EXTRACT | The day Hani cried

While negotiations — known colloquially as talks about talks — were going on in the Transvaal between the [FW] De Klerk government and the ANC, Hani was having sleepless nights in the Transkei. He was waiting for the outcome of one particular issue. And then one morning, on August 6 1990, there was an ANC press conference where the suspension of the armed struggle was announced. He saw it on television.

Hani cried! He was with Mzwandile Vena, TT Matanzima and Derrick Mgwebi, his TDF [Transkei Defence Force] comrades, and Khotso Liphapang Matli, the MK guerrilla he had kept close contact with over the years.

He broke down and cried.

Vena says, “It was the first time I saw Comrade Chris cry! He was angry or heartbroken or both because the armed struggle was suspended without him being consulted. These were decisions taken by the leadership phaya eRhawutini — over there in Johannesburg — and he was not part of them. And yet he was the chief of staff of uMkhonto we Sizwe, the armed wing of the ANC.”

Vena says the most painful thing to Hani, and to his fellow soldiers as well, was that he was learning of this for the first time on television. None of his comrades paid him the courtesy of talking with him about it before it was announced to the public. No-one thought he was worth being put in the loop.

“It was very frustrating to him,” says Vena. “What was he going to tell his soldiers? He had continued to send people for training. What was he going to say they had been training for?”

Limpho [Hani’s wife] was still based in Lesotho during this time, working in Maseru. Once a fortnight she would drive to Mthatha with the kids to see Chris. She happened to be in Mthatha on the day of the announcement of the suspension of the armed struggle. She says she had never seen her husband that livid. He was so angry that he cried and stammered when he tried to talk. It was only late in the afternoon that he was able to utter something.

“I have to be the messenger,” he said. “The cadres will be upset, but I must calm them down.”

It was to regain the moral high ground that Slovo suggested it was time the ANC suspended the armed struggle

Limpho says she never understood why her husband had to be exiled in the Transkei in the first place, why the ANC never lifted a finger when De Klerk withdrew his indemnity, why for the ANC it was just business as usual, and why they never even issued a statement condemning the withdrawal of indemnity. Instead, they facilitated his departure and tried to make what Limpho considered a second exile bearable — as if they welcomed his being at the periphery of decision-making in Johannesburg.

“The kids and I asked Chris these questions, but he never answered them,” says Limpho. “He just kept quiet. He was like that. He was too loyal to the ANC. He protected the ANC even when it was hurting him or working against his interests.”

Though the TDF soldiers had never seen Hani cry before, some of his MK soldiers had seen him cry. He was man enough to cry, as we saw in that instance narrated by Oyama Mabandla when his comrades from Lesotho arrived in Lusaka after that massacre and Hani was telling them how frustrated he was because Lusaka had become a difficult place. He complained that his comrades in the leadership seemed to have given up on fighting apartheid and had grown comfortable and fat in exile.

Hani wore his heart on his sleeve.

Even more than the decision itself, Mac Maharaj agrees that Hani’s main gripe was that he was not consulted at all. He wanted to know the reasons for the decision and for his being sidelined when it was made. He was in charge of MK operations. He was entitled to be consulted at the very least, and to have a say in the matter.

“Their excuse was that he was away in the Transkei,” says Maharaj. “They couldn’t communicate with him by phone because the enemy would hear.”

To me this is utter nonsense. The ANC and MK always found a way to communicate among cadres who were in distant cities in different countries whenever it was necessary. They were able to communicate with Hani from their headquarters in Lusaka when he was in Lesotho, many countries away. Sometimes they used human couriers in their communications among such diverse nations as the UK, Tanzania, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Swaziland, Botswana, Angola, Lesotho and South Africa itself. The distance between Johannesburg and Mthatha is 880km or 12 hours driving within legal speed limits, taking into account traffic, road conditions and necessary stops for rest or fuel. This was such an important matter it was worth the drive. Hani was blindsided. He was therefore correct to feel that he was being purposely sidelined to cut him off from his source of power — the military.

Matli says, “I was amongst those people guarding Chris in the Transkei. I remember, for instance, the morning the news broke that the ANC had suspended the armed struggle. Chris didn’t know anything, he was not consulted. But Chris did not say that to the media. Later that day we held a meeting in Mthatha where Chris said we could not publicly distance ourselves from the decision that had been taken by our leadership even if it was taken in his absence. However, in accepting the decision we must be tactical about it. Soon the reporters would be there wanting to know his position, he said. He was going to tell them that he aligned with the decision to suspend the armed struggle, but South Africa must understand that it was only a temporary decision … it was not forever."

Blindsiding him with the suspension of the armed struggle would bring him down from the moral high ground he had usurped as a result of unbanning the liberation movement and releasing the political prisoners

Maharaj outlined to me how the decision to suspend the armed struggle was reached. He says Joe Slovo, the MK chief of staff before Hani, was actually the one who proposed at the NEC [national executive council] meeting in July 1990 that the ANC should surprise the enemy by unilaterally suspending the armed struggle. Thabo Mbeki and Maharaj himself agreed with the suggestion.

He did not say this, but I surmise that the surprise element must have been the reason Hani was not consulted. Obviously Hani would have objected, and loudly too. It would have reached the media before the ANC negotiators presented their “surprise” to the National Party at their next meeting, and that would have upset the advantage of any concessions from the opposite side.

Oliver Tambo was already ill, so he was not at that meeting.

“FW de Klerk was riding the crest of the wave both in South Africa and internationally,” says Maharaj. “Blindsiding him with the suspension of the armed struggle would bring him down from the moral high ground he had usurped as a result of unbanning the liberation movement and releasing the political prisoners.”

It was to regain the moral high ground that Slovo suggested it was time the ANC suspended the armed struggle.

“The moment he said this, a whole lot of hands went up to oppose the proposal,” says Maharaj. “Madiba [Nelson Mandela’s clan-name] realised that there would be chaos. From the chair he said: ‘Hey, hold on, hold on, calm down, everybody. This is not a matter we can debate like this.’”

He proposed that during tea-break a group of comrades should draft a proposal, and named Joe Slovo, Thabo Mbeki, Ronnie Kasrils and Mac Maharaj as the drafters of the proposal.

“Madiba was shrewd,” says Maharaj. “He picked people, one who was seen as a dove, and others who were seen as hawks. These four were important people who commanded a lot of respect.”

The proposal was drafted.

“The proposal said we needed to push the regime into formal negotiations,” says Maharaj. “The regime was delaying the process. We needed to force the pace and to regain the moral high ground. So, as a surprise move we offered the suspension of the armed struggle.”

Maharaj claims the matter was put to Hani in the Transkei, including the viewpoints that were presented by NEC members on both sides of the issue. But Hani was focused on regrouping MK, using the shelter of the Transkei. This meant that only the suggestion of the suspension of the armed struggle was put to him, and the talking points of his comrades. Perhaps that was why he was having sleepless nights: he knew that his comrades were mulling over the matter in his absence.

The TDF soldiers guarding him insist he didn’t have an inkling the suspension of the armed struggle was on the agenda at all. Be that as it may, the man was aggrieved in any case.

I was annoyed. I was marooned in the Transkei when the decision to suspend the armed struggle was taken

Maharaj was arrested on July 25 for his Operation Vula underground work. Therefore, when the meeting between De Klerk’s government and the ANC took place on August 6, and the media announced the ANC had suspended the armed struggle, Maharaj was in jail.

It was those media reports that upset Hani so much.

Maharaj says there were rumours as a result that Hani and Winnie Madikizela-Mandela were so fed up that they were planning to form their own political party. But Maharaj stresses that he never heard with his own ears Hani or Mrs Mandela articulating a wish to form a party. The rumours were a manifestation of the hawks’ feeling of powerlessness, he added.

Hani himself expressed his feelings about the suspension of the armed struggle — especially about not being consulted before that decision was made.

“I want to be honest,” he said in an interview. “I was annoyed. I was marooned in the Transkei when the decision to suspend the armed struggle was taken. My indemnity had been withdrawn. I spent more than 27 years in MK. I spent that part of my life in an armed struggle against the regime. I was angry and bitter that this decision was taken without comprehensive consultation. That was my immediate gut feeling. I didn’t sleep when our delegation was locked with De Klerk negotiating. I was waiting for the outcome. And then there was that press conference early in the morning announcing the suspension of military activities …"

He went on to mention that he had seen comrades dying both inside the country and outside. He knew the names and the faces. He knew how these young people put aside everything in their lives to concentrate on the fight against white domination.

“I said to myself probably this was the right decision,” he continued, “but why was there no widespread consultation with those who were actually involved in the physical side of the armed struggle?”

Despite all his misgivings and his anger, Hani was a disciplined soldier and a disciplined member of the movement. He therefore undertook to understand that decision because it was a fait accompli. He would then explain to his soldiers that it was a necessary decision in order to maintain the momentum of negotiations.

“I was ready to be reined in to explain to other comrades, and that I did. In a movement as big as ours sometimes you’ve got to subject your own strong personal views and accept the views of the majority in the leadership.”

When journalists came, he redefined the ANC decision thus: “The suspension of the armed struggle merely means MK members will remain in their trenches waiting for orders from the ANC. Military training will intensify, and MK’s overall numbers will increase.”