We were now about ready for our first visit to Sophiatown. The Harts picked us up and cautioned us generally to be careful about going to Sophiatown. They said their licence plates had been marked down while going to parties there. This really worried me. I was afraid that somehow we would be noticed, and then the first suspicious act would have taken place, and the film would never be completed. Finally we arrived at Bloke [Modisane] in one piece. It was a small party, this would go without saying in Sophiatown because the houses were seldom more than one small room, sometimes two or three. There were ourselves, Bloke and his wife, the Harts and Hazel Futa, a very attractive girl, and her boyfriend Nimrod. Hazel had a provocative face, she was gay and vivacious as well as attractive; she didn’t have the dignity and appeal that I would want for the main woman in my film, but I was sure I would have a part for her somewhere.
The food and drink were good. Local food, from what I’ve sampled, is somewhat simple. This was actually curry and Africans in the city seemed to be turning to curry from the Indians. There was lots of music, and pretty soon people began to pile in. No invitations were necessary. This is typical of an African party, people just seemed to come in from all over, and this of course is something quite different from our way of life. There are no telephones in the villages and no invitation is necessary. People just come and go as they please. Pretty soon the room was filled with people, and there was the dancing and gaiety of a typical African party. I still wasn’t quite used to the situation, particularly since I was afraid of the police and it was my first acquaintance with Sophiatown.
Bloke and Lewis [Nkosi] from that time on used to come to dinner at our house very frequently. It was always very enjoyable having them and conversation was interesting and exciting, about the situation in South Africa, always tainted by the fear of the neighbours, that they might see Bloke and Lewis coming to our flat and object and complain to the police.
Lewis was an excellent reporter who had a lot of courage. Not only was that necessary for his job, but he showed it against every form of racism that he encountered. He went up to Zeerust at the time of the disturbance there and questioned some of the people, and he and another journalist were locked up in a hut by the chieftain and severely beaten. He stuck his neck out on several occasions like this. One time, reporting a court case, he refused to sit in the African section, and had an altercation with the judge, and believe me, in South Africa that takes a bit of courage to do.
Every day the Johannesburg press carried headlines about the coming national elections. The Africans were depressed because everyone thought Strijdom and his misanthropic crew would win again. The African National Congress proclaimed a stay-at-home, a unique political device, both as a protest and a show of strength against elections in which they had no vote.
Excitement reached a climax the afternoon before the elections. I was with Lewis at that time and he asked me if I would drive him home. I didn’t understand the danger this involved. I agreed willingly, but as we drove on towards Sophiatown I realised the consequences of this action. Lewis gaily mentioned that the police were already active in Sophiatown. He treated the matter as if it was a lark, but I could sense that he was nervous. I wanted to back out, but I didn’t want Lewis to think that I was running out on him. I began to get extremely uneasy as we approached Sophiatown. With great trepidation I drove through the streets, keeping an eye out for the police. Finally we arrived at his digs, and with a sense of relief I turned around immediately and drove back. I was annoyed at Lewis for leading me into such a vulnerable situation. Completing the film would be a weapon against apartheid and if this action was a test, a lark, or just thoughtlessness, he had exposed me to an unnecessary and dangerous risk. To be stopped and questioned by the police would have been disastrous for me.
The next day the phone rang. It was Lewis: “Man, it’s really hot out here; the police are raising hell … they are going into the houses and pulling people out and beating them in the streets.” I was shocked and angered by this ruthlessness and arrogance.
I was extremely touched that Lewis had called. With each incident I witnessed, I became more deeply involved in the African cause. Since Lewis had looked to me for a small measure of moral support, it appeared that he considered me a friend.
It might have been a little foolhardy on my part to invite Africans to our flat rather than meeting them someplace else, since it exposed me to some danger and could jeopardise the film, which was far more important to the African cause than whether we met them at our house or not. Although it was not illegal for them to come, it was something that was so uncustomary and against the habits of South Africans that it would have caused a great deal of resentment among the neighbours.
I was by now a frequent visitor to Sophiatown, and we had constant bull sessions at which Lewis and Bloke and Morris Hugh, whose father was European and his mother was an African, talked about their feelings towards society and life in general in South Africa. In many ways they were very bitter and I myself began to be affected by their feelings. I found myself so involved with their attitudes that I would sometimes get into a fury about the situation that existed there. It was easy to do, it was so absurd. Sometimes we would drive along and see the most hair-raising sights, suddenly a policeman would be pulling an African off the sidewalk and beating him for no reason. I remember one particular Sunday when Lewis was particularly upset, although he covered it up with laughter. James Ambrose Brown, a well-known writer, had written in an editorial in one of the South African newspapers: “The Africans are cruel to animals, they have no kindness towards them.” It was really quite an absurd article, considering the situation in South Africa and the treatment of Africans by whites. Lewis couldn’t seem to get over this, and he kept talking about it over and over again.
It was a Sunday afternoon and we were drinking a bit. Lewis got a big high and started making a parody on the article, saying: “Africans should be kinder to animals, they should treat cockroaches better and bedbugs too,” and so on. It was quite amusing and he had us all laughing very much.
What struck me, though, was that at the same time there seemed to be a tremendous excitement and enjoyment of life despite all these hardships.
There was an almost magical quality about Sophiatown, filled with music and dancing. There was hardly any night that life wasn’t full of interest and every house was open to any neighbour who cared to drop in and chat. I don’t think that anyone who has ever visited can fail to be caught up in this spirit.