A man who would not bend

In the dying days of apartheid a group of youths decided to rename their neighbourhood after a struggle hero as a form of defiance against the oppressive system.

They could have chosen the name of any of the famous icons who had returned from Robben Island or exile. Instead, they went for a local name.

Clarence Lucky Payi had become something of a legend to many of the youngsters in KwaMashu township's Section D.

Hanged on September 9 1986, along with his comrade, Sipho Xulu, and Amanzimtoti bomber Andrew Zondo, Payi - who had grown up in the area - seemed the most appropriate choice.

Having decided on the name, the activists approached the local community committee that "ran" the area to have the renaming formalised.

Many of these activists were too young to have known the circumstances that led to Payi being sent to the gallows.

All they knew was that he was a former uMkhonto we Sizwe soldier who had been hanged for furthering the aims of the banned ANC.

They did not know that, in 1984, Payi and Xulu, acting on the orders of a rogue MK commander, had assassinated ANC underground operative Ben Langa on false allegations that he was a police informer.

Among the members of the committee who listened to the youngsters as they argued their case at a meeting at John Langalibalele Dube High School, was Pius Nkonzo Langa, chairman of the community committee.

Though the mention of Payi's name, the man who had brought about his brother Ben' s death, must have reopened painful wounds for Langa, he didn't show it.

Not once did he object as the majority of the committee agreed to the name.

It was only months later, when a newly returned exile related the tragic circumstances of Ben's death, that the youths realised the pain they must have caused Langa and his family.

According to those who visited Langa to apologise, he accepted the apology graciously, saying he understood that they had meant no harm.

It was during this period that the group of youths learned about Langa's principled opposition to the death penalty. He was by then a highly respected human-rights lawyer.

Even though the men at the receiving end of the apartheid government's capital punishment policy were the killers of his brother, Langa - in his capacity as president of the National Association of Democratic Lawyers - led public campaigns to have the death penalty abolished.

Years later, as a Constitutional Court judge in a democratic South Africa, he made a ruling against capital punishment.

"The test of our commitment to a culture of rights lies in our ability to respect the rights not only of the weakest, but also of the worst among us," he wrote.

"Implicit in the provisions and tone of the constitution are values of a more mature society, which relies on moral persuasion rather than force; on example rather than coercion.

"Those who are inclined to kill need to be told why it is wrong.

"The reason, surely, must be the principle that the value of human life is inestimable, and it is a value that the state must uphold by example."

At the memorial service for Pius Langa on Monday, his long-time friend and fellow human-rights activist Justice Selby Baqwa spoke of a difficult period in the late 1980s when lawyers who defended anti-apartheid activists became the targets of vigilante attacks.

To protect their homes, Baqwa said, residents in the area in which he and Langa lived formed themselves into a neighbourhood watch.

Most of those on night patrol would arrive with an assortment of weapons. But not Langa.

"He would not even bring a stick," said Baqwa.

Much has been said about Langa's immense contribution to the justice system, and much more will be said about this humble man.

His rise from poverty to become chief justice should be an inspiration to our generation and to the generations to come.

Langa firmly believed in social justice and valued the judiciary's independence.

It was on Langa's watch that Constitutional Court judges publicly opposed Cape J udge President John Hlophe's alleged attempt to influence a court to rule in favour of ANC president Jacob Zuma in his corruption case.

Langa's younger brother, Mandla, a renowned author, once told journalist Sabelo Ndlangisa that his latest book - The Lost Colours of the Chameleon - was inspired by a conversation he once had with the judge about the justice system.

In this conversation, Langa spoke of a minister in an unnamed country who once proudly said to him that, in that country, judges took their cue from government.

When Langa asked the minister what would happen if the minister himself fell out of favour with his party bosses and needed the courts to act as an arbiter in their conflict, the minister laughed off the notion.

As fate would have it, Langa told his brother, the minister did find himself at the receiving end of injustice as he fought with the ruling party a year later.

By telling this story, Langa was demonstrating the importance of always keeping power in check because it is always open to abuse by those who wield it.

In an era in which too many former struggle heroes are embroiled in one scandal or another, Langa was a shining example of what it means to be a true servant of one's people.

We should learn from him.