Five prominent Western Cape activists including Trevor Manuel, former United Democratic Front secretary and the longest-serving detainee in the region – were released from prison yesterday. Manuel, who was held for just under two years, is the first national leader of the UDF to be released for many months. Coming not long before the October elections, his release was a major surprise, especially since his detention order was renewed less than a month ago when the State of Emergency was repromulgated.
However, the "freedom" given to the five was limited: all were served with restriction orders which bar them from working for the UDF and its affiliates, confine them to magistrate districts and place them under house arrest at night. In terms of the orders, none of those released may attend meetings where the government is criticised; nor may they, call [or a boycott of the pendingmunicipal elections. Manuel, 32, the UDF's Western Cape secretary and former member of the national executive, has also been barred from giving press interviews and having anything to do with com piling publications.
Released were:
- Cape Youth Congress president Whitey Mzonke Jacobs, 27, after 360 days in Paul's Victor Verster Prison. He may not leave the Wynberg magisterial district and is confined to his Guguletu home between 7pm and 5am; UDF Western Cape executive member Mountain Qumbela, after 188 days in Pollsmoor, and the UDF's publicity secretary in the region, Hilda Ndude, who was detained on June 2 this year. Both are confined to their magisterial district and under house arrest at night.
- UDF Western Cape treasurer and Call of Islam executive member Ebrahim Rassool, after more than 400 days in Pollsmoor. He is confined to the Athlone magisterial district and his Gatesvillehome by night.
However, the UDF leadership remains severely depleted. Of its head office staff, two (Terror Lekota and Popo Molefe) are on trial, two (Mohammad Valli and Murphy Morobe who replaced Lekota and Molefe) are in detention, and two (Azhar Cachalia and Manuel) are now restricted. Its two presidents, Albertina Sisulu and Archie Gumede are also restricted. Only the national chairperson, Curnick Ndlovu, is free, although he has been in hiding for over two years. Of its other national executive members, the Reverend Arnold Stofile is serving a prison sentence in the Ciskei, at least three others (Jomo Khasu, Henry Fazzie and Edgar Ngoyi) are in detention and two are restricted (Zollie Mafindi and Christmas Tinto). The remaining members, Derrick Swartz and Titus Mofolo, are both deep in hiding.
Yesterday, a beaming Manuel, 32, walked out of Victor Verster Prison holding his two-year-old son, Govan, in his arms. The child was only a few weeks old when Manuel was detained on August 15 1986. He had physical contact with his father only once during his detention, at the end of last year on a psychiatrist's recommendation.
Jacobs, the father of a 14-month old daughter, held her in his arms for the first time yesterday. Notice of Manuel, Jacobs and Rassool's release was given to their lawyers on Tuesday, just as they were gearing to launch a supreme court up plication for an interdict restraining Minister of Law and Order Adriaan Vlok from further extending their detention.
Family members said Manuel was relieved to be freed but unhappy at being denied access to a vital force in his life – the struggle – and at having to leave fellow detainees behind. He was particularly concerned that long detained New Nation editor Zwelakhe Sisulu had been admitted to hospital for depression, they said. He could understand it happening as – unlike convicted criminals – detainees never knew when they would be freed, if ever. The restrictions meant that in a sense, his detention continued – he may not leave the Cape Town magisterial district and must be in his Mailtland home from 6pm to 5am – but his resolve had been strengthened, they said.
Manuel arrived at his mother's Kensington home to a banner saying "Viva Trevor Welcome Home". Waiting for him in the street stood his mother, sisters – his father died 19 years ago – and nephews. When his mother, Philma, saw her son unfold his long frame from the car which brought him from Paarl she started weeping. "Don't cry," he told her. "You're supposed to be smiling." Cradling his child in his arms, he first thanked neighbours for supporting of his family. He was in high spirits, seemed unfazed by his incarceration, teasing children about school and their report cards. There were jubilant reunions with other activists who started arriving, crowding his living room.
This article originally appeared in the Weekly Mail.
