Mamphela Ramphele: A Passion for Freedom. Mamphela Ramphele
students from Messina. We were assaulted with shouts of mesela (tails), to indicate that we were the last to come into the institution. It was also my first train ride. I had occasionally seen the passenger train pull off from Mara Station on its way to or from Pietersburg, but had never been on it until January 1962. The novelty of the experiences unfolding around me proved overwhelming. My heart was pounding in my tiny chest all the way. What an introduction to leaving home!
The same insecurity and sense of impending doom pervaded our arrival at Bethesda. No effort was made by either the school or fellow students to put us at ease, and make us feel welcome. Any senior student could order a mosela to run errands or engage in demeaning acts at any time. This ‘treatment’ lasted for about one and a half weeks, ending on the night of a belated welcome concert given by the school in the main hall. The last lap on this gruelling initiation track was running as fast as our frightened legs could carry us to our room immediately after the concert. Here we were at last free. That week and a half were the longest in my adolescent life. I cried myself to sleep during those first nights.
Mathabatha, my elder brother, who attended the same school at the time, was my only source of support and continuity with the protective family life I had left behind. He took the risk of breaking the rules during my first week at boarding school to check on me and to reassure me – an offence punishable by expulsion. He came to stand outside our classroom window before the classes started, and caught the attention of a fellow student, who then called me to the window. The minute I saw him I burst out crying. I had never felt so far from my family before, and I was miserable. He just stood there and comforted me.
Networks of support were critical in this environment. Homegirls were the most important people, particularly in the first few months of boarding school life, before one had made friends with girls from other parts of the country. Homegirls protected one from gross abuse during initiation, even though they could not completely shield one from the humiliation of the entire process. One of my homegirls was assigned to keep watch over me and to intervene where appropriate. Sometimes serious fights broke out between seniors about the reasonableness of the ‘treatment’ meted out to a particular mosela. Those unfortunate enough to be outside this protective network were often grossly abused.
Networks of support were also vital in enabling you to survive the inadequacy of even the few essentials that were supplied. The school provided an iron spring bed with a coir mattress for each student. There were dormitories ranging from four beds each for seniors, to ones with twenty beds or so. There were neither lockers nor desks. You had to bring your own blankets, pillows and linen. Our personal effects were held in locked tin trunks kept in the locker room adjacent to each dormitory, and supervised by a prefect.
We had to rely heavily on our own resources to supplement the inadequate food supplied in the boarding school. From home at the beginning of term we brought scones, chicken, rusks, tinned food, dried meat and vegetables, biscuits, and a variety of preserved food. The resourcefulness of your family was severely tested. Homegirl groups, varying in size from two to ten, often shared their provisions, as well as the occasional food parcel sent from home. In addition we bought provisions from the store at Kalkbank once a week.
My brother and I had to learn to make do with one pound ten shillings each per quarter, which our father sent us as pocket money. It was barely enough to cover basic necessities, including toiletries. Mashadi, my elder sister, who was then working as an assistant in a fish and chips shop in Soweto, played an important part in rescuing me from total despair. I used to jump for joy each time I received a parcel from her, because I knew that there would be treats: biscuits, sweets, tinned beef and fish, toiletries and, occasionally, a pair of stockings or a handkerchief. You really learned to appreciate such small tokens of love from your family.
The custom of sharing had its drawbacks. There were wide differences among students in the quality of provisions brought from home, the regularity and amount of pocket money, and the number of parcels sent from home during term. Tensions also developed around the amount of communal food each devoured. Small eaters were at a decided disadvantage. There was also difficulty in catering for different tastes. Some people with less delicate palates ate whatever came their way, and thus paid little attention to the needs of others in preparing food.
Survival is a stronger force than the fear of offending others. After the first year of sharing with about eight homegirls, I took the plunge. I felt that having complete control over my supplies would enable me to budget better, and spread my resources over a longer period. I had also learned to bake biscuits, and my mother loaded me with provisions, which used to last me until just before the end of term. My severe weight loss during the first year also prompted more regular pocket money and food parcels from home.
I had suffered a lot during the first year from near-starvation. As I could not bring myself to eat what I considered food unfit for human consumption, I often had to survive from Monday to Friday drinking only cocoa at supper time, with sugar water during the day. My small frame took severe punishment, but my will not to be reduced to an animal kept me going. So when I decided to eat alone, homegirls were dismayed but let me go. Thereafter I occasionally shared some food with them, but it stopped being an obligation.
Bethesda Normal College was like an island of Protestant morality in the Bushveld. The location of boarding schools in remote rural areas had its benefits and drawbacks. The isolated and barren rural setting offered few cultural, intellectual and leisure opportunities. Some adults, however, felt that it was an appropriate environment for taming restless adolescents. The fewer the ‘distractions’ from the learning process, or so it was felt, the better the outcome. The majority of these schools also obliged by laying down rigid rules enforced by autocratic matrons or boarding masters. Bethesda was no exception.
Most of the male students spent their weekends loitering near the school and in the village of Rita. Some of the younger ones were responsible for looking after the herd of cattle which the school relied upon for its meat supply. Fridays and Mondays were slaughter days. The beasts were usually shot by one of the teachers, and the older male students were responsible for skinning, cutting up the meat, and storing it away. The meat was kept in large bath tubs for a day or two without any refrigeration – with predictable consequences in summer.
Female students were under stricter rules. You could only go to the Kalkbank shopping centre if you had permission from the head prefect, who had to be given a list of potential shoppers by midweek for the Saturday morning outing. Numbers were strictly controlled – not more than twenty at a time were allowed. A prefect had to accompany the shoppers. The four-kilometre walk was quite hard for younger, frailer persons like me, but it was fun and a welcome change from the dull surroundings of the boarding house.
Sundays were strictly observed as days of compulsory worship. A morning service was held at the local Dutch Reformed church conducted in Afrikaans with Northern Sotho interpretation for the local villagers. Racial segregation was entrenched in both the entrance points and the seating – after all, it was God’s law to keep blacks and whites apart, and one had to be even stricter in His house in this regard. Men and women also sat separately, presumably to reduce the temptation of being attracted to someone of the opposite sex. We had to be protected from ourselves.
Activities organised by the Student Christian Movement (SCM) and Mokgatlo wa Ba Bacha (MBB) dominated Sunday afternoons and evenings. Varying degrees of charismatic religiosity were in evidence particularly among female students. These tendencies were encouraged by the school authorities, who saw religion as the cornerstone of good behaviour. I found some solace in the various religious activities, particularly the singing, which was a major part of them, and I became a full member of the MBB.
In spite of this gloomy picture, the school had its warm and enjoyable sides too. We developed close friendships among ourselves. I became friendly with a group of three girls in my class: Moloko Laka (a homegirl) with a tall beautiful body, dry wit and a stutter, Mphika Molokoane (from Musina, then still Messina) who was the shortest of the foursome, with a perfect baby face, gentle nature and softly spoken manner, and Greta Mogooane (from Natalspruit, on the East Rand), to whom I was closest. Greta’s attributes stood out as gentleness, neatness and generosity of spirit. She was also physically attractive and petite. She did not keep the unwritten rule that prevailed among