By Norm Dixon
JOHANNESBURG — At 9.50am on Sunday, April 24, central Johannesburg was rocked by a massive car bomb aimed at the African National Congress's national and regional headquarters. The blast was clearly audible from Green Left Weekly's base in Brixton more than five kilometres away.
It was the first of a rash of bomb attacks on polling booths, ANC offices and places where black people gather. By the dawn of April 26, the first day of South Africa's long-anticipated democratic election, the lives of 21 people had been lost and hundreds had been injured. The bombers' clear intention was to frighten people from voting, but the attacks instead strengthened the resolve of this country's oppressed majority to vote for the first time in their lives.
The scene of the devastating blast on the corner of Bree and Von Wielliegh Streets, almost exactly between the ANC buildings that lie two blocks apart, was shocking. The force of the blast — estimated to have been caused by over 90kg of explosives packed into a parked car — had destroyed a row of shops, left a two-metre crater in the road and shattered windows for a radius of two blocks and to a height of 15 storeys. It was a miracle that only nine people were killed that morning. Had the blast gone off at that time on a busy Monday morning, hundreds would have died.
The brutality and cowardice of this outrage was all the more apparent at the ANC's regional offices, Lancet Hall, just a couple of hours after the blast. After I negotiated the coils of vicious razor wire, then convinced stony-faced members of the SADF and police that I really was a reporter on my way to an ANC press conference in the now windowless building, I walked to the corner of Jeppe and Von Wielliegh Streets to survey the scene.
Before me, seemingly unnoticed by anybody else, lay a bloodied section of a trouser leg, torn off below the knee. A little further away was a ripped and bloodstained sandshoe. Whether the victim who once belonged to these is alive or dead, I'll never know. I entered Lancet Hall angry.
My anger increased, together with shock and sadness, when Tokyo Sexwale, the ANC's PWV premier candidate, announced that among the dead was Susan Keane. Keane was the ANC's general secretary for the Johannesburg sub-region and was likely to be elected to the PWV provincial parliament. A town planner, she was a key leader in the ANC alliance's moves to democratise local government. Just the weekend before, I had listened to her at an ANC concert in the northern suburb of Zoo Lake.
Later I learned that one of those killed was a woman fruit seller who I passed several times as I visited Shell House.
If anyone else among the swarms of journalists, photographers and camera operators who converged on Lancet Hall shared my anger and sadness, it was less than obvious. They laughed, bickered and bragged. Many had arrived just the day before and would be gone the day after the election results are official. When the ANC delegation arrived they fought each other for the best spots.
One particularly odious reporter for one the US TV networks informed me that it was good the bomb had gone off. Buthelezi's agreement to take part in the election meant there was less "news" (read blood and guts) to report. Now interest would revive.
Sexwale, looking worn out, said, "Without a shadow of doubt, this is an attack on the democratisation process. We have been listening to a number of very shrill and wild voices threatening all types of conflict to undermine the democratisation process which is due to commence in earnest in less than 48 hours. The election is going to go on."
On Monday, another massive bomb exploded in Germiston, east of Johannesburg. A bomb larger than the Johannesburg blast went off at a taxi rank that serves black commuters, opposite the local COSATU office. Ten people died. The human dimension to this atrocity was made tangible by the story that appeared in the Johannesburg Star. Taxi driver Philemon Ndlovu was killed in the bombing. Just three days earlier his partner, Priscilla Khumalo, gave birth to a baby girl. Like millions of other South Africans, Philemon and Priscilla were optimistic for the future, so optimistic they named their newborn child Nkululeko — Freedom.
COSATU spokesperson Neil Coleman described the blasts as "part of a national plan to paralyse COSATU and the ANC in the run-up to the elections". Those responsible, he said, were right-wing elements intent on destabilising the elections. "The question must be asked who would have the capability, the coordination and the knowledge to be able to plan these sorts of acts. We are extremely worried that there are still elements inside the security forces, who have in the past been behind the Third Force, who may have been involved."
That same day, two people were killed near Pretoria when a bomb was tossed into cafe for black people. A taxi rank in Randfontein was bombed. Polling stations were bombed or set alight on the east Rand, in the northern Transvaal, the western Transvaal and the Eastern Cape. Power lines were downed in the eastern Transvaal.
Black South Africans have suffered much pain in the struggle to win democracy, and bombs are not going to stop them now. Speaking from his hospital bed, Zola Msenti, who survived the Johannesburg blast, said the following day, "Bombs or no bombs, I am going to vote. This thing is encouraging me." Leonard Mabungu, who daily uses the Germiston taxi rank, said he too would vote. "No one can stop us ... They can plant bombs. But they can't kill us all."
Nelson Mandela, on April 26, urged South Africans to stand together. "Let us send a message loud and clear: we will not let a handful of killers steal our democracy. Our surest way to stop them, and to bring peace, is to cast our vote. Let us vote in such overwhelming numbers that we show everyone how much we love our country, how much we love our people, how much we love peace, how much we love life itself. We will show the world that we are determined to stand up against the violence, determined to vote for a better life for all."
Millions of people heeded Mandela's call.
On April 26, I returned to Lancet Hall to pick up some ANC posters. I asked the young ANC activist who helped me if he was in the building when the bomb went off. "Yes", he said, "but I was back in here the next day". "Weren't you afraid to come back in?", I asked. "Agh, bombs", he answered dismissively.
Police have arrested 32 AWB commandos in connection with the explosions in Johannesburg, Germiston and Pretoria and also a bombing at Johannesburg's Jan Smuts Airport.