We Are Fighting the World. Gary Kynoch
and experience. Given their perilous lifestyle, Marashea valued members who had proven themselves in difficult situations. A 1950s Matsekha commander, Maliehe Khoeli, explained that when a killing was planned he depended on seasoned veterans. Even if they were arrested these men would not divulge information to the police, whereas a youth would probably inform on his comrades if tortured.12
Elderly Marashea usually returned to Lesotho when they left the gangs. In such circumstances veterans received transport money and perhaps a little extra. “There is no big sum—at his farewell he gets something, but not enough for him to live on at home. However, we are responsible for his funeral like any other Lerashea” (KI). BM explains that “The old Lerashea is advised to go home, but if he does not want to go back home we do not force him, especially those Marashea who joined a long time ago who abandoned their families in Lesotho and do not have a home to go to.” Those who stayed were not expected to contribute as warriors. “He is not required to go to the fights because he would get killed” (DS). Instead, they acted as advisors for fights and for dealings with the authorities. Retired fighters also fulfilled other functions: “When Lerashea is old he stays looking after the women. He is given a simple job and he must make sure the [kidnapped] women do not escape” (DG). Probably more women than men remained in South Africa, because Marashea women are considered outcasts and prostitutes by many people in Lesotho. Men typically maintained families in Lesotho and returned to them when they retired. Fewer women enjoyed that option and many became estranged from their families. “If a woman is old she stays until she dies or her man dies—the old women are always selling joala [beer]. Others become lingaka [traditional doctors; sing., ngaka] giving moriana [traditional medicine], to Marashea. When the men go to fights and meetings she prepares her moriana to make them strong” (‘Mè RB).
GEOGRAPHY
The Marashea has settled in a variety of areas and environments during its fifty years of existence. Since the formation of the gangs, members have resided in the mining compounds. On the Rand in the 1950s, “Marashea groups tended to congregate in the less regulated parts of urban locations,”13 like Newclare and the “Asiatic” (Indian) section of Benoni as well as various informal settlements. As Soweto was divided into different ethnic enclaves, Marashea became concentrated in the “Sotho” sections—Phiri, Naledi, Tladi, Molapo, and Moletsane. On the East Rand, Benoni, Springs, and Germiston were Matsekha areas. At least one faction of Marashea lived in a white area, sharing the servants’ quarters inhabited by their linyatsi (lovers or concubines; sing., nyatsi). In the 1960s PL, along with a number of men from his group, operated out of the Johannesburg suburb of Booysens. “We were living in the whites’ houses. Our linyatsi were working in the whites’ homes, so we were living there. When the owner of the house asked the woman when I go to work, she told him that I work at night, whereas really I did not work at all” (Lesotho, 24 May 1998). This group of Matsieng drew the majority of its members from nearby Crown Mines and held its meetings in a forest that separated the town from the mine or traveled to Phiri for larger gatherings. Veterans’ reports, along with documentary evidence, indicate that Russian gangs operated in and around both Bloemfontein and Pretoria in the late 1940s and 1950s, but these groups were not sustained. The Bloemfontein gangs are said to have consisted largely of railway workers, while the Russians operating in the Pretoria area worked in industry and were directly connected to some of the Johannesburg gangs.14
With the opening of mines in the far West Rand and Free State, Marashea groups established informal settlements adjacent to the mines and resided in townships such as Khutsong and Thabong.15 Squatter groups typically rented land from white farmers and formed independent settlements. Although these camps might occasionally be raided by the police, there was less police pressure than in urban areas and fewer pass problems for illegal migrants. Some Marashea groups leased the land, some paid per dwelling, and others worked out liquor kickback and protection agreements with the farmers. In 1998 and 1999, I visited three camps in the Free State and one near Carletonville in which the Marashea constituted the ultimate authority.
As foreign migrants, Marashea who lacked the proper documents were vulnerable to deportation. The adoption of harsher pass control measures, particularly the imposition of a single standard reference book, the “dompass,” in 1952, caused considerable hardship for some Marashea groups on the Rand. Johannes Rantoa reported, “At the time of Jan Smuts we had no problems but when the dompass was introduced we had a difficult time. We had to fix the whole thing in Lesotho; as such we had our number reduced. Some of us were arrested and others could not return to South Africa. . . . this was one of the reasons the group disintegrated” (21 May 1987, Bonner transcript). The 1963 Aliens Control Act was a further blow to the urban-based gangs. However, some Marashea men, by virtue of their birth in South Africa or their duration of employment on the Rand, retained the right to reside in Johannesburg. This cohort, along with the continuing trickle of Basotho who migrated to the Rand and eluded the authorities, ensured the survival of the urban Marashea into the 1990s.
For Marashea in the mining areas, pass and border controls became simply one more obstacle with which to contend and did not significantly weaken the organization. ‘Mè TF, who was active in the Free State in the 1970s and 1980s, was deported several times but always returned. “We were arrested at Christmas because the South African government wanted everyone to go back to their home, so they would deport us to the border posts. But we would not stay in Lesotho, we would just go back again by trespassing.” Active Marashea illegally residing in South Africa experience no real difficulties. A Free State informal settlement resident explains: ‘Sometimes the police come here and deport us to Lesotho. At Christmas in 1997 they came and I was one of those deported. They dropped us at Ficksburg bridge and we crossed and then came back. A taxi took us here the same day” (TC). CN takes advantage of lax border controls to avoid the inconvenience of deportation: “I renew my temporary permit every month because I go home [to Lesotho] almost every month. If I do not go home, I give my passport to a taxi driver I know to renew it.”
Lesotho is considered neutral territory by Marashea, and instances of conflict between rival groups have been rare. “We don’t fight in Lesotho. It only happens here [South Africa] where Marashea belongs. If I went to Thabong [Free State Township] now they would kill me, but if we meet in Lesotho, nothing will happen” (CN). The Marashea’s original purpose was to protect migrant Basotho, so the gangs filled a need that did not exist in Lesotho. Much of the internecine fighting in the mining areas was caused by competition over territory and markets. There are no mines in Lesotho and little if any money to be made, so the Marashea have operated exclusively in South Africa. Many veterans echoed TT’s claim that “Borashea was a thing of South Africa; there was no need for such a group in Lesotho.” For many years now Marashea groups have returned to Lesotho for funerals, feasts, and meetings. The Malunga Hotel on the outskirts of Maseru was a popular meeting place for the Russians.
Other than occasional skirmishes between rival groups on holiday or at a funeral, Marashea are active in Lesotho only in the sense that they can be hired to intimidate people and resolve disputes. Interested parties travel to South Africa and contract men to do this type of work for them. “The Marashea are doing nothing [in Lesotho], but if I want to attack someone in Lesotho I can go to South Africa and hire Marashea who will come back and kill him. There are no Marashea in Lesotho but you can invite them if there is a problem” (SM). A detective in the Royal Lesotho Mounted Police confirmed that Marashea are sometimes hired for the purposes of intimidation and assassination. According to him, Marashea are most visible at their funerals, where they invariably display and discharge illegal firearms. The police choose to overlook these activities rather than confront large groups of well-armed Marashea (Detective M, Maseru, 20 April 1998). Although some prominent veterans who retire to Lesotho maintain contact with their former groups, act as mediators and advisors, and still consider themselves Marashea, the bulk of retired members seem to share KI’s assessment of their status: “Those who live in Lesotho after leaving Marashea are no longer regarded as Marashea. Like in my case, I don’t regard myself as Lerashea. . . . my being Lerashea ended when I left South Africa.”
JOINING THE MARASHEA
Like virtually every aspect of Borashea, the process of joining the group was profoundly gendered. Men chose