– You’d better go out, Lodewyk. Because you won’t like the packing. Go up to Kirstenbosch and look at the flowers that bring you such peace. I never want to see you again. I never want the children to see you again. You can come back at five. We’ll be gone.
When Mr. Prinsloo came back from Kirstenbosch they had gone. The house was empty. It had been emptied just as had his life, of his wife and his children and his job and what, for better or for worse, he had regarded as his happiness. In twenty minutes, less maybe, the two black-suited men had destroyed his world. The colour photographs of his three children, and of his wife’s parents, had been taken away. The wedding photograph had been slashed to pieces, and these were strewn over the floor. There was only one photograph remaining on the walls, and that was of his own father and mother, of the white man who had married a coloured woman, and whose children had all passed as white, until today.
The coloured woman who worked for him came to him full of perturbation.
– Meneer, what’s happened? Why have they all gone?
Why should she not be told? Was he any better than she? Was he not returning to her and her people?
– Maria, they’ve gone because I’ve lost my job. I’ve lost this house too. It’s because I’m a coloured man.
– Those two men?
– Yes.
– Meneer, I knew they were bringing evil.
She broke out with sudden vehemence, she, the docile, patient Maria.
– May God strike them down! May God strike them all down, meneer. They are wicked men. Didn’t they make us, meneer? And this is what they do to their own children. May God strike them down!
Petronella Margaretha Prinsloo is with her mother, weeping and reviling. And her mother also is weeping and reviling. And the children are weeping and lost, for who knows what will happen to them? They gather round their mother, who draws them into her protective embrace. She will protect them against the cruelty of the world, against the cruelty of the coloured man who fathered them. She has not yet fully realised that her children are coloured too.
– You were walking four abreast over this bridge?
– Yes.
– And this black man was walking towards you from the other side of the bridge?
– Yes.
– And when you reached him you threw him over?
– Yes.
– Did you know if he could swim?
– No.
– Why did you throw him over?
– He would not give way.
– When you walked four abreast over the bridge, was there any room to pass you?
– No.
– Then how could he give way?
– I repeat my question. How could he give way?
– We were on the bridge first. He should not have come on to the bridge. He should have waited. He could see there was no room to pass.
– There were four of you abreast. If one of you had given way, he could have passed.
– In our district we do not give way to kaffirs. They know it well. This man knew it well. He was insolent. He knew when he came onto the bridge that there was no room to pass.
– When you threw him over, he was heard to cry out, I can’t swim, I can’t swim. Did you hear that?
– He cried out something.
– But you did not hear what it was. Perhaps you did not care what it was.
– We did not hear what it was.
– So you threw him over?
– Yes. He would not give way. He knew he had to give way.
– Did you realise that if he had drowned you four young men would be facing a charge of murder?
– No.
– You were lucky that he was rescued by a fisherman under the bridge. If he had, not been, you would have been charged with murder.
– We did not think of murdering him. We threw him over because he would not give way.
– Have you anything further to say in your defence?
– No.
– Your worship, that closes the case for the prosecution.
– The four accused will stand up.
– I find you, number one, number two, number three and number four accused, guilty of assault with intent to commit grievous bodily harm. I accept your own evidence that you all helped to lift your victim up so that he could be thrown off the bridge. You are a disgrace to white South Africa, and I can find no extenuating or mitigating circumstances. You appear to have some perverted sense of patriotism, and imagine that actions of this kind contribute to the maintenance of Christian civilisation. You claim to be patriots, but such actions do your country incalculable harm, especially in the dangerous days through which we are now living. You claim also to be Christians, yet you showed no consideration for the rights of your victim to use the bridge, and no concern for the possibility that your action might lead to his death. I sentence each of you to one year’s imprisonment, and so seriously do I regard your offence that I shall not suspend any portion of your sentence.
Many of the white residents of Soetrivier and district are up in arms over the action of the visiting magistrate in sentencing four of the young men of the region to one year’s imprisonment each for throwing an African man off the footbridge that crosses the Soetrivier. The men alleged that the African would not give way to them, and that they therefore threw him off the bridge. The magistrate in passing sentence said that the four young men were a disgrace to white South Africa. An angry crowd gathered outside the court building, and police escorted the magistrate to his car.
A spokesman for the protesting residents said that they were scandalised by the severity of the sentence.
‘It is a terrible thing to brand four young men as criminals because of a boyish prank. We have decided to send a deputation to the Minister of Justice, asking not only for a suspension of the sentence, but also for the removal of the magistrate to some safer area.’
The white bourgeoisie is getting itself all worked up because a white judge has kissed the feet of a black woman in a church in Bochabela. Half of the bourgeoisie is disgusted, and the other half thinks that a bit of kissing wipes out the scandals of the pass laws and the rape of the blackspots and perhaps indeed lengthens the life of white supremacy.
New Guard does not indulge in attacks on the so-called independent judiciary, but will certainly not encourage white people to entertain the delusion that what happened in Bochabela is a solution to something, or that it is an indication of the way ‘things are moving’. The episode is totally meaningless and irrelevant, and it shows once more how unrelated to our realities are the bourgeois values of goodwill and sporadic benevolence in our South African situation.
The aspirations of the people of South Africa were given unforgettable expression in the clauses of the Freedom Charter. They concerned themselves with government, land, rights, wealth, industry, education, freedom of movement. They made no mention of the washing or kissing of people’s feet. The Congress of the People would have exploded into incredulous laughter had anyone proposed the inclusion of such fatuities.
New Guard has one final thing to say about the farce at Bochabela. It was an example of white condescension at its very worst. The Holy Church of Zion should be ashamed of itself for staging such a demeaning spectacle. Mrs. Martha Fortuin should never have lent herself to this act of extreme hypocrisy. The wages that she earns probably amount to three or four per cent of the judge’s salary. Such gross inequalities are not removed by any amount of washing or kissing.
In this country of masters and servants, the masters think they can expiate their guilt by assuming the mock role of servants. In a society of equals it would be impossible to stage such a travesty.
– New Guard, 8 April 1958.
It has always been an essential part of the tradition of the Afrikaner to respect people in positions of authority. This applies especially to judges, and most of all to the justices of the Appeal Court in Bloemfontein. It goes without saying that a judge must be
have in such a way as to retain this respect. Judges therefore keep out of the limelight. Their province is the courtroom, not the marketplace.
Therefore when an Acting Chief Justice, Judge J. C. Olivier, attracts to himself nation-wide attention because of his actions in a black church in Bochabela, he cannot expect to be immune from criticism.
There is no theological objection to a re-enactment of Christ’s washing of the disciples’ feet. Christ said specifically that his disciples should follow his example. While such ceremonies are not part of the Calvinist tradition, we cannot make theological objections if non-Calvinist churches perform them. That is not the ground of our criticism.
In the first place the judge’s action at Bochabela ran counter to the racial policies of the Government, and conflicted with the spirit if not with the letter of Clause 29(c) of the Native Laws Amendment Act of 1957. Mixed worship is not compatible with racial separation, and racial separation is the mandate that was given to the Government in 1948, and renewed even more strongly in 1953.
However, the judge’s action went further than a tacit repudiation of the philosophy of racial separation. To the washing of the feet he added a further highly sentimental and in our view extremely objectionable element, namely he kissed the feet of the black woman after he had washed them. Whether it was known beforehand or not that the press would be present is not the question. What we do know is that an embellishment of this kind is repugnant to most white Christian opinion, and certainly to most Afrikaner Christian opinion. The performance was melodramatic and tasteless.
We have the utmost sympathy with the judges of South Africa in the distress they must feel at this departure from their tradition of dignity and decorum. May such a thing never happen again.
— Noordelig, Pretoria, 8 April 1958
DECLARED UNDESIRABLE
The following list of publications declared undesirable is published in the Government Gazette of 11 April 1958.
New Guard, 8 April 1958 — New Guard Press, Cape Town
Hot Pants in Honolulu — Marcia Dimaggio — San Diego Publishers, Calif., U.S.A.
Black Passion — Charles Transom — Phoenix Press, Chicago, Ill., U.S.A.
59 Ways to Do It — B. J. Narayadu — Sutra Publishers, Calcutta, India
Die Dominee en die Garage — Chrissie van Schoor — Voorloperpers, Cape Town
Weg met Sensuur! — Andries Brinkman — Voorloperpers, Cape Town
Adventures of the Black Girl in Her Search for God — George Bernard Shaw — World Books
Bonjour Tristesse — Françoise Sagan — Albin Michel, Paris
. . . I think your reaction to the Bochabela incident is over-sentimental, and if I may say so without offending you, my dearest aunt, more likely to come from a woman than a man, and more likely to come from an older woman than a younger. The fact that you have known the family since the judge was a small boy, and that they brought the young woman Martha with them when they came to stay with you at Weltevreden, has also, I think, affected your judgement. I think the whole affair lamentable, and my Minister shares my opinion.
That puts it mildly. In fact he is black with anger. And so is Dr. Hendrik. They regard the judge’s action as a challenge to themselves. They also regard it as the judge’s calculated reaction to the decision of Dominee van Rooyen not to allow the Bosman funeral service to be held in the big Kerk. And that means of course a direct rejection of Clause 29(c) of the Native Laws Amendment Act.
Dr. Hendrik has made it known to my Minister, in a very proper way of course, that it would be very objectionable to him if Judge Olivier were made Chief Justice. I hear that Dr. Hendrik has also made his views known to the Prime Minister. But he need not have worried. The Minister spoke to me with something approaching venom, and this increased as he proceeded.
‘Van Onselen, the man from Bloemfontein, or perhaps I should say, the man from Bochabela, has now crossed the Rubicon. He first put his foot into the water in March 1952, when the Appeal Court struck down our Separate Representation of Voters Act. If you want to know the exact day, Van Onselen, it was 20 March. He went in further when the Appeal Court struck down our High Court of Parliament Act in November of that same year. If you want to know the exact date, it was 14 November. You can’t teach me any history about the six old men of Bloemfontein.’
It was a great spectacle, my dear aunt. The Minister had now risen to his full height of six foot six, and he was spitting out sentences like a machine gun spitting out bullets. Do you remember he once took a sjambok into Parliament when he made a speech about corporal punishment? Well, I was glad he hadn’t brought it to the Palace of Justice because I’m sure I would have got a taste of it. And it’s a good thing the Acting Chief Justice wasn’t there, because he would have got more than a taste.
‘Van Onselen, we soon settled the hash of the six old men. We appointed five more judges of Appeal. Then we enlarged the Senate so that we could get the two-thirds majority. Then in 1956, on 27 February, Van Onselen, we revalidated the Separate Representation of Voters Act. The old men knew they were beaten, except one, the man from Bochabela. The court dismissed an appeal against the Act by ten to one. Ten judges recognised the legality of the enlarged Senate. But Mr. Justice Olivier decided that the motive behind the enlargement was to circumvent the entrenched clauses. That’s not law, Van Onselen. Call it what you like, call it morality if you like, but it’s not law. Now don’t forget this man from Bochabela was next in line for the chief-justiceship. So I sent him a message, Van Onselen, no, don’t get excited, it was only a telepathic message, and it said, One more step, Mr. Justice Olivier, and your great career is ended.’
You may remember, dear aunt, that my Minister once spent some time in Hollywood, preparing for a film career. Now I could understand it. He can act like a man possessed. I think he forgot that I was there at all, except that he kept on addressing me by name.
‘Well, his great career is ended now, and tomorrow he will know that he won’t become our Chief Justice. That’s because, when he enacted this farce in Bochabela, he reached the other side of the Rubicon, Van Onselen. He reached the other side of the Rubicon two thousand and seven years after Julius Caesar, who crossed it in January, 49 B.C. The actual day of the month I don’t remember, but our Acting Chief Justice crossed it on 3 April 1958. Caesar crossed it to victory, but Olivier crossed it to oblivion. Now remember, Van Onselen, if you mention that man’s name again in my hearing, that’s the end of you.’
Well, dear aunt, that’s the end of the story of Bochabela. By the way, Judge Olivier did one good thing. He wrote to Mrs. Fischer after the death of her son. She asked me if she should write to him about the kissing of the feet, which she seemed to think meritorious. I said no.
Respected Judge
I am a young Indian woman from Durban, and I am in New York for an operation. Although my parents are with me, I am very homesick, and I wept with joy to read in the New York Times the story of Bochabela. I wept with joy because it made me proud to be a South African, and that isn’t always easy in New York. You did a wonderful thing, judge. I know how difficult it is for a white person.
With much respect
Yours sincerely
Prem Bodasingh
Dear Jan Christiaan
I am remembering today the solemn young boy who used to come to stay at Weltevreden. I was a newly married young woman, and I used to tease him about his solemnity. I did not know then that he would become a great judge.
Well, I have just read about his visit to the church in Bochabela, and of how he washed and kissed the feet of Martha Fortuin, who also came with the family to Weltevreden. Jan Christiaan, can a person sob with joy? Yes, a person can, because I sobbed with joy. My heart contained joy and grief simultaneously.
There is so much grief in our land that when one suddenly encounters joy it sets one to weeping. I grieve most about our own people. When I read about the Bosman funeral, and about the fate of this humble railway clerk Prinsloo, my
heart could break. What has happened to us? I hear that Dr. Hendrik is to be our next Prime Minister, and I tremble at the thought and pray to God that He should not let it happen. This is a strange opinion to come from a woman who has been a member of the party for forty years. I joined it when I married Koos, and I am glad he is not alive to see what has happened to us. I was proud of the party, and General Hertzog was my idol. Do you think that he would have allowed these devils to hound poor Lodewyk Prinsloo out of his job and to drive his wife and children from him? The party was God’s instrument to raise the Afrikaner from the dust and ashes of the English war, and to give him back his pride and his country, but now it has become the instrument of the Devil to treat others just as the English treated us.
It was kind of you in your busy life to write to Alida Fischer. There’s another grief for you. After her son’s death she came to Weltevreden, and her pleasure in the birds and the trees and the mountains and the sound of the little waterfall at night made me see my old home with new eyes. She came to me at the instance of my dear stick-in-the-mud nephew, Gabriel van Onselen, who lives for table tennis and the Department of Justice, and who, I much regret to say, cannot wait for Dr. Hendrik to become Prime Minister. Alida Fischer calls him Archangel Gabriel, because his true self came out of its shell when her son was arrested. I must say he disliked her son intensely, but when the trouble came he went at once to the rescue. I should explain that her son was promoted over Gabriel’s head, although Gabriel was at least ten years his senior, and one does not recover from such a blow easily. The trouble is that Gabriel is not a Broederbonder. I suppose they have never thought it worthwhile to have him.
It would not surprise me if Gabriel gave up his selfish flat and went to live at Mrs. Fischer’s. He has been a blessing to her but so has she been to him. The truth is he has got his mother back again, and there could not be a better arrangement.