[miningmx.com] – “JA! Vavi! This one is sharp my bro!’ a man remarked
excitedly in Setswana as throngs of striking mineworkers marched from Freedom Park
towards the football field at the nearby Impala Number 8 Shaft on Thursday.
“Hhayi! This one inkunzi [bull] bhuti! He knows how to fight,’ says another.
But earlier that same afternoon, they had marched out of the venue in protest after
their man, Cosatu’s General Secretary Zwelinzima Vavi, failed to arrive. At the time, it
looked as if all hell was going to break loose among the 7,000-strong crowd.
On Wednesday, word spread like teargas fumes that Vavi would visit Shaft 8 after he
had made a similar address to workers at another part of the troubled platinum fields
the previous day.
The spirits of the striking workers appeared immediately lifted. To some, it seemed
as if Vavi would bring a solution. Such was the spirit among them on Thursday
morning that to a few it appeared as if the man was bringing with him the very
R9,000 salaries they were fighting for.
By 3pm, the field was packed with chanting and toyi-toying workers who became
agitated with each passing minute.
When other officials tried to address them, they went mad. They left the field and
it was feared they would create havoc where they gathered on the outskirts of
Freedom Park.
An hour later, it took one man to persuade them to return.
That man was born on a farm in Hanover, Northern Cape, the 10th of 12 children to a
father who was a mineworker and a mother who was a domestic worker.
The priest who baptised him apparently guessed his birthday – December 20, 1962. A
former child labourer, he began performing unpaid chores on the farm where he
was born at the age of five.
Vavi arrived to an empty stadium in an Audi sedan, worried union officials and armed
riot police on edge.
After a brief chat with other union leaders, he hopped on to an armoured police
vehicle to meet the workers.
They erupted into loud cheering and whistling as Vavi, in a black Nehru shirt
embroidered with gold, emerged from the police vehicle.
“Vavi! Vavi! Vavi!’ they chanted.
A man in a red T-shirt leaped forward, close to tears. His name was Nceba Gcelu
(31). He handed Vavi his payslip reflecting the R3,000 he took home.
“We are dying underground! Why should we die for R3,000?’ he said to the towering
figure of Vavi, who calmly took the document and assured him such matters would be
looked into.
A few lines from Vavi got the workers charging down to the stadium again. A
demoralised group just moments earlier, the workers had transformed into a
boisterous crowd of almost 7,000, powering westwards towards the setting sun to
hear him speak.
Their powerful singing seemed to bring on a cool breeze, which swept over the rich
land where poor workers dig up precious metal for a miserable R3,000 a month.
Before Vavi’s arrival, they sang about taking up arms against mine management.
After that, they celebrated the power of the workers.
“Ngawethu!’ they roared like thunder when Vavi greeted them with the black power
salute. Then they fell silent, spellbound for almost an hour, by Vavi speaking in
isiXhosa, a comrade translating into Setswana.
Now and then they cheered and applauded as Vavi urged them to continue fighting for
their rights.
He said he was disappointed with the poor showing of National Union of Mineworkers
shop stewards and that, like them, he was once a mineworker earning just R300 a
month.
All went well until Vavi urged them to return to work the following day and avoid
weakening their cause with an illegal strike, or being forced to return to work on the
employers’ terms, in dribs and drabs, driven by the reality of unemployment.
Even Vavi, the hero, failed to make them understand.
A group of workers, calling themselves the interim workers committee responded,
saying they were not going back unless their demands for a raise were met – R9,000
or nothing.
Their heads silhouetted against the fading evening light, they cheered as Vavi said he
would not abandon them simply because they disagreed with him. He didn’t expect to
be applauded each time he opened his mouth.
As the workers dispersed, I asked Vavi if their demand for R9,000 was justified.
“If they lend you their tools for just a day, and you go down a mine shaft and drill
and break rocks, you will agree that in fact these workers do not deserve R9,000 but
R100,000,’ he replied, before a police motorcade whisked him away.
– City Press
