The fact that one of a group of juvenile detainees was her sister’s murderer did not stop Patricia de Lille from fighting for their rights Marianne Merten Pan-Africanist Congress MP Patricia de Lille entrenched her reputation as one of South Africa’s more principled politicians this week when she came to the rescue of juveniles from Pollsmoor prison – a group of youths that included her sister’s rapist and murderer. It was six weeks ago, during her first visit to the disease-ridden, overcrowded jail cells, that De Lille recognised the teenager she had last seen a year earlier in court before he was given a 20-year jail sentence.
“When I saw him I had to make a quick decision. I need to be strong,” says De Lille. “We all need to work for a better society.”
This week the Cape High Court ordered juveniles be provided with adequate health care to treat prevalent skin infections, sexually transmitted diseases and gastro- intestinal problems. Unsentenced children under 18 are being transferred out of the prison, leaving 206 others incarcerated. De Lille said the fight was to improve conditions – which was always part of the struggle – so that youngsters are not released as hardened criminals scarred by the inhumane conditions in jail. “When you’ve lost someone so close to you – she was my baby sister – the pain is very close to you. You live with it,” De Lille says, explaining her mother’s initial angry reaction. “She’s [her sister] blessed. She is with my father. It’s time to move on.” Of the 20 messages on her parliamentary voicemail, 19 congratulated her for this breakthrough. And this weekend she travels to Johannesburg’s notorious Diepkloof jail to try to bring relief there. Over the years De Lille has become known as a firebrand who courts controversy, someone who does not mince her words and who will take the side of the underdog in any situation. Neither does she shy from a good fight, be it winning the fight in the highest court of the country against Parliament’s decision to suspend her for claiming five African National Congress officials were apartheid spies; intervening on behalf of participants in clinical trials to test an HIV/Aids drug; or standing shoulder to shoulder with landless people in the rain to fight evictions on the Cape Flats. Born into a family of seven siblings in the barren Karoo town of Beaufort West on the N2 highway, De Lille knows what it means to grow up with limited means. Every Christmas one child would receive a new pair of shoes. Once her school principal father wanted to cheer her up because it was not her turn. He painted the old pair of shoes to renew them, but ran out of paint on the second shoe. De Lille refused to go to midnight mass in this footwear. Instead she and her father listened to the sermon from the car parked outside a church window. “Growing up in a big family meant you learned how to fight, to get what you want,” she said. The experience as an Africanist trade unionist has sharpened her understanding of bread-and-butter issues. Her outspoken involvement has helped the PAC make inroads into traditionally coloured communities, especially in the Western Cape. In the run-up to last year’s elections, De Lille tirelessly toured the hinterlands and dorpies to mobilise support for the party. On one of these trips she was involved in a car accident and seriously hurt her ankle. For months visits to the physiotherapist became part of her jam- packed diary. De Lille’s cellphone rings almost non- stop: from party political matters to the business of the six parliamentary committees she sits on; from individuals seeking help or wanting to reveal corruption, to a friendly chat with the politician affectionately known as Pat.
Earlier this year it was she whom several woman parliamentary employees turned to with complaints of rape and sexual harassment against a senior official. He has since been fired and six women have laid criminal charges against him. Corruption is De Lille’s pet subject. Whenever possible she pulls from her “pink file” letters and documents sent to her to pass on to those who may help. >From sober business suits to colourful African caftans or a PAC tracksuit, De Lille is comfortable in all. Some years ago her hairstyle was criticised as that of a Mitchells Plain, Cape Flats, housewife. Now it is in hundreds of tiny plaits. Every morning De Lille gets out of bed, thinking of the two Aids babies she is sponsoring at Nazareth House. One of the two is currently receiving the treatment of an immune system booster made from the African potato. Cape Town’s Anglican Archbishop Njongonkulu Ndungane is her spiritual guide, confesses De Lille. “Whenever I feel threatened, I turn to him.”