Steve Biko

9. A life still to be ‘dug out’

143 9 A life still to be ‘dug out’ Barney Pityana was still in prison on 12 September, the day Biko died, and was not told of his death. That night he had a dream. He dreamt that he had ‘this enormous discussion with Steve where he was saying, more or less, “I am leaving. You must look after my children”, and I saying,“You know it’s not my business to look after your children – you must do something responsible.”’ Biko went on, insisting in a friendly sort of way, until Pityana reluctantly agreed that, all right, if he had to go somewhere, he, Barney, would look after his children. The next day Pityana was allowed to have a shower, something not allowed before, and ‘this white boy was reading the paper and I managed to see in his paper a statement by Kruger. I would otherwise never have known and then suddenly this sort of funny discussion I was having in the middle of the night came back. I was in a very very lonely state in that cell. I was absolutely distraught, angry – much 144 more, [I was] almost suicidal.’ ‘It was the fire – the fire went out.’Ramphele looked out of the window as she spoke. ‘When Thenjiwe phoned me on 13 September I was in hospital. When I heard, everything went dead. I literally wondered if I could walk across that room, if I could survive physically. Everything was dead.’ Mamphela Ramphele was banished, isolated in Lenyenye, far in the north, in hospital, trying to save the life of her unborn child – Biko’s child. Biko’s funeral took place on 25 September at the King William’s Town stadium. Oxen drew the coffin until it was lifted and held shoulder-high by his comrades, an impulsive gesture which was to become the hallmark of the many funerals of comrades to come. The only visible presence of the State was one lone soldier seen on a tower high above the crowd. Otherwise the police were not present. But, as Mafika Gwala explains, they were present elsewhere: ‘Most Natalians missed [Steve’s funeral], the result of police action in turning the cars and buses carrying mourners back on the Transkeian borders … [but] I did not miss the symbolism that such burial carried … Those who have attended the funerals of all those who have died in detention must have gone to these funerals with an inner understanding that a scratch on a black man is a scratch on every black man. And that death in 145 detention at one centre is death in detention all over the country … When we heard that Steve was dead many of us must have said, deep down in our minds, if the time must come, let it begin now.’ Biko knew that it had already begun. The youth of Soweto, of Natal, of the Eastern Cape, of Langa, Nyanga and Guguletu in the Western Cape – the youth of the whole country – had understood that. As Biko explained, ‘The dramatic thing about the bravery of these youths is that they have now discovered, or accepted, what everybody knows: that the bond between life and death is absolute. You are either alive and proud or you are dead, and when you’re dead you can’t care anyway. And your method of death can itself be a politicising thing; so you die in the riots. For a hell of a lot of them, in fact, there’s really nothing to lose – almost literally; given the kind of situations that they come from. So if you can overcome personal fear for death, which is a highly irrational thing, you know, then you’re on your way.’ Biko’s mother understood this too.‘In truth he was not my child. He was the son of the people. I have come to understand that I must comfort myself and accept that truth: that this child was not my child. Moreover, there are many children of other people who have gone before Steve. When a battle is fought, not all the soldiers come back home. It is God’s will in which this 146 whole thing happened. After such a long time bube ubomi bakhe busombiwa [his life is still being dug out]. Accepting that, I have a humble view of myself as a person from whom he comes.’ Biko foresaw his death in the...