In October 2015, the District Six Museum partnered with the Steve Biko Foundation to organise a symposium entitled- ‘Memory in a time of freedom’. Denis Goldberg was invited to be the keynote speaker on the opening day of the 3-day event.

Today, as we mourn the passing of this wonderfully principled stalwart, committed to the arts, to young people and most importantly to a life of integrity, I would like to share the text of his talk which was presented at the District Six Museum Homecoming Centre on 23 October 2015.



Denis Goldberg at D6M Homecoming Centre. Photographer: Yazeed Kamaldien

For a symposium at the District Six Museum on 23 October 2015

By Denis Goldberg (Rivonia Trial No. 3 Accused)

It is over twenty years since the apartheid state with its policies and practices of racism by law was brought to an end. The consequences of that system which the United Nations declared to be a crime against humanity persist in South Africa and indeed throughout Africa which experienced colonial rule, and eventually nominal independence under neocolonial domination.

That the present generation of young people is generally unaware of the nature of our history and its effects on their parents and grandparents is a reality. Recognising this National Ministry of Tertiary Education has created a National Institute of History and Social Sciences. I notice too that the ruling party has recently decided that the Ministry of Basic Education to prepare for history to be a compulsory subject up to Grade 12 and not only up to Grade 10 as at present.

Many people say that we should know our history so that we should know where we have come from and thus know where we are going in the development of our society and our nation. It is however more important to stress that we have to decide where we are going and how we are to get there in reconstructing our society.

We do not start with a blank slate. Our past, our history, has written much that influences how we think and how we feel. It is also clear that our history has left us divided into various groups based on the past racial discrimination and related social class positions so that it not so easy to ensure a unified approach to the fundamental issues of a society in a state of constant accelerated change.

We have a whole fleet of museums, places of memory of a time of “unfreedom,” a time of people being oppressed and people who were oppressors as well as those who collaborated with the oppressor and those who opposed their own group of oppressors.

Shortly after liberation the National Department of Arts and Culture published a massive volume listing “all” the museums in the country. Of course there were museums to the life of the dominant group, some state or local government owned and financed, and also many privately endowed museums.

There were museums such as the large art galleries in the major cities that reflected the artistic values of the colonial era seldom showing the works of artists from the ranks of the historically oppressed. Some went abroad to develop their talents and achieve recognition.

Many of these galleries and museums are consciously changing their exhibitions both permanent and special to reflect the attitudes, talents and abilities of a whole spread of emergent artists working in a wide range of media and of all classes and ethnicities. That in itself is a liberatory influence on the minds of people and important in restoring the dignity of our people.

But especially significant for our topic today is the range of museums dedicated to showing the nature and details of the oppression under apartheid, but also museums dedicated to showing what forces there were in the struggle to end apartheid.

The Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg and the District Six Museum in Cape Town are examples of those that show the nature of the mass oppression.

The Red Location Museum in the Nelson Mandela Metropole (Port Elizabeth) records the lives of tens of thousands of migrant workers living in a barracks without their families.

The Robben Island Museum shows what Ahmed Kathrada who was imprisoned there after the Rivonia Trial calls “the triumph of the human spirit over adversity.”

The Liliesleaf Museum presents the coming together of political leaders and activists who worked together to plan the means to overthrow the apartheid system.

Freedom Park in Tshwane (Pretoria) shows what apartheid was like and records great moments in the liberation of our country. It also reflects in its architecture a clearly African style of monumental buildings. There are walls recording the names of those who took part in the struggle for freedom and have died during the struggle and since 1994. Interestingly the names of soldiers of all colours who fought to overthrow the Nazi armies of World War 2 and thus defended the possibility of achieving a democratic state are also recorded.   Freedom Park is strategically sited on a koppie opposite the Voortrekker Monument to racial conquest and oppression,

Then there are other museums such as the Mandela Museums at the Nelson Mandela Foundation in Johannesburg, at Qunu and Mtata, the Stephen Bantu Biko Centre at Ginsberg, Kingwilliamstown and other museums.

I must add that the blind hero worship of our heroes does us a disservice and takes away the true greatness of for example Nelson Mandela. In his case the narrative in the popular media is that a person revered as Saint Madiba single handedly presented us with freedom with his own bare hands. Furthermore it seems as though he had time in prison to reflect and that he found the right attitude of friendliness and the right words to persuade the last apartheid presidents, Botha and de Klerk to release him and set us all free. But the real greatness of Mandela is his membership of an organization with a long history of principled positions on the nature of our future democratic, non-racist, non-sexist state and society. His style of collective leadership was striking especially with his brother in arms OR Tambo who led the leading liberation movement for thirty years of exile until the dawn of freedom when he passed away from a massive stroke.

Mandela and Tambo both showed remarkable analytical abilities to find new strategic and tactical responses to the ever changing conditions of our struggle and that is the real measure of their qualities. Their ability to mobilize tens of thousands of people in South Africa, in the front line states and in the anti apartheid solidarity movements in many countries was the key to success. It was not the work of an individual. Think of the more than 130 activists hanged under the security laws; of the more than a thousand people tortured to death or simply “disappeared” at the hands of the security forces; think of the tens of thousands of years of imprisonment of activists sentenced in the apartheid courts or simply held in detention without trial; and think of the thousands of activists who lived under appalling conditions in exile in many countries in Africa training and retraining and always posing a threat to the apartheid forces,  and of course we remember the heroic battles against superior forces of our armed liberation fighters. In the end there were as many as 2 million activists in the United Democratic Front inside South Africa as well as underground activists. It is these vast numbers who defeated the apartheid regime. Idolizing Mandela as THE SAVIOR demobilizes our people who together in organized formations are the real force for transformation. This, for me, is the key memory to bear in mind in our time of freedom.

I believe during his life Stephen Bantu Biko’s determination to achieve freedom for his people led him to an interpretation of Black Consciousness that is summed up in the expression: “To be free one must believe that one can be free.” That is, he rejected the racist view of the dominant white group that black people were incapable of being free. In asserting his equality he was accused of an inverted racism but like the intellectuals who formed the ANC Youth league in the 1940s he and many others with him came to recognize the common humanity of all people.

There are many other symbols of memory: The Biko Monument outside the Town Hall in Buffalo City; the Robert Sobukwe House on Robben Island; The Hector Peterson Memorial in Soweto representing the hundreds of school students killed by the apartheid forces during the uprising against the imposition of more apartheid regulation of education in 1976.

This is not a comprehensive list of course. They are simply examples of the kinds of institutions of memory that exist. We can add that streets named after leaders and activists are also reminders of what freedom cost in the way of effort and sacrifice. I am sure that most people do not notice the names nor ask who the people were.

To these examples we need to add the National Archive in Pretoria, the archives held by the South African History Archive (SAHA) at Wits University; the documentation made available through South African History Online (SAHO); papers held at various universities including the ANC Archives at the University of Fort Hare. I am sure there are many other archives. We need to have them coordinated at least through online catalogues which should eventually be combined.

The memoirs, autobiographies and biographies of those who took part in making the history of our country are a collective source of memory of a multiplicity of people and groups who have been liberators and oppressors and those who swung with the wind in our intense political history. And of course there are the standard history books used in educational institutions from which we can glean an understanding of the attitudes of the past.

What we lack is a sense of our history so that young people today cannot grasp, for example, the intensity of the conditions during the four years of negotiations from 1990 to 1994. People were being murdered on a daily basis as the apartheid forces tried to turn the clock back. During those four years 10000 and 12000 people were murdered as they tried to stop the process of a negotiated settlement of the key political element of those times: the political representation of all our people in all the elected and appointed institutions of government so that the aspirations set out in the Freedom Charter and now enshrined in our Constitution could be achieved.

We lack also the histories of certain aspects of our lives: for example education and where we were in 1994 with 14 Departments of Education with totally different norms of service and employment based on race and geographical/spatial distribution. Similarly I do not know of easily accessible histories of medical care and health care provision. If we had those two histories we would see that we have indeed come a long way in only twenty-something years.

My own contribution to the processes of memory in a time of Freedom is my autobiography The Mission: A life for Freedom in South Africa; and indirectly a commemorative volume called Denis Goldberg Freedom Fighter and Humanist written for my 80th birthday by a large number of friends and comrades I worked with. But on a less personal note, I spend a lot of time delivering talks in schools and universities and to interested adult groups here at home, to foreign visitors, and internationally.

A mobile exhibition entitled The Third World in the Second World War researched and widely published in Germany has, at my request, been translated into English. After years of endeavour we have now been promised the funds to have it produced in English here in South Africa with the intention of exhibiting it in various venues across the country and eventually throughout Africa. Why? Because it reveals what is forgotten in the received narrative of those times: namely the huge contribution made for instance by Africa and Africans to defeating the Nazi forces in Europe and in Japan. Did you know that more soldiers from the third world countries and colonies fought in the Second World War than soldiers from all the European countries combined? Did you know of the enormous sacrifices of forced labour to provide foodstuff and raw material made by the Third World? The exhibition is about restoring the dignity of the African people and people from South East Asia and the Far East who liberated Europe and our whole world from fascist oppression.

We need to know our history. More important is that we should make our history, or better still histories, known to all our people so that we understand the roots of our society and what we have to deal with. We have to find ways of doing so. Exhibitions, yes. But we need sponsored visits by young people in large numbers by the coach load. But only those who live nearby will see them. Therefore mobile exhibitions that can be set up near to where they live are necessary. Television short topics broadcast live streamed to schools must be looked at. A lot can be told in 10 minutes. The topics need to be repeated in new ways, constantly. We need to think of virtual exhibitions that can be made available on memory devices such as DVDs and flash drives.


I want to thank the District Six Museum and the Stephen Biko Centre for co-hosting this symposium and for inviting me to address you today.

Vacancy: District Six Museum Director

Do you want to be part of a cutting edge heritage institution? Would you like to join a dynamic and creative staff team who are committed to telling the story of forced removals in Cape Town and South Africa, and exploring contemporary legacies? If you are passionate about these issues and if you have the following skills, you should consider coming to work for the District Six Museum.

A. Purpose of job

  1. To provide strategic leadership to the organization in consultation with the Board
  2. To manage the execution of the Board’s decisions, especially strategy implementation
  3. To lead and manage the organisation’s progression toward sustainability

B. Key responsibilities

  1.  Organisational management and leadership
  • Resource mobilisation
  • Liaise with donors
  • Exercise financial oversight
  • Liaise with the Finance Manager to ensure effective financial administration
  • Oversee the drafting of budgets, funding proposals, financial and activity reports
  • Facilitate the conceptualisation, development and implementation of the organisation’s strategy to achieve it’s vision
  • Manage the activities of the Board of Trustees including its communication needs, ensuring Board participation in the organisation and assisting in its development
  • Ensure the organisation is legally compliant
  • Ensure that organisational planning, monitoring and assessment is routinised
  • Participate in local and international conferences and other knowledge-making forums where costs can be covered

2.       Operational management

  • Fundraise to support the implementation of the operational plan
  • Recommend policies to the Trust for effective operations
  • Alert Trust to issues that are potentially strategic or problematic in terms of achieving the organisation’s goals
  • Oversee the general operations of the Museum including staff performance together with the Operations Manager

3. Programme implementation

  •  Supervise and mentor programme staff in achieving their deadlines and project activities
  • Ensure completion of tasks to achieve programme goals
  • Recruit and orientate new programme staff with the relevant Programme Manager

 C.  Education and experience required


Relevant 3-year degree or equivalent
A post-graduate qualification or equivalent would be an advantage
5 years experience in a job which has similar levels of responsibility


Knowledge of participatory democracy and the South African political context Experience in donor management, strategy development and financial management
Knowledge of the non-profit, heritage and human rights sectors

Critical Dimensions

  • Demonstrated commitment to Museum’s values
  • Leadership skills
  • Fundraising ability
  • Interpersonal skills
  • Political acumen
  • Project management experience
  • Organising ability
  • Valid driver’s licence

D. Application process

Send your application with two written references and a covering letter which indicates date of availability and required notice period in current job, if applicable.                  Email to  District Six Operations Manager, Ms Nicky Ewers,

Closing date: Friday 24 January 2020

‘Proudly South African: Dullah, Essa, Us’

On Saturday 6 July 2019, a full-house at the District Six Museum gathered to pay tribute to two legal icons who both had a historic connection to District Six during the course of their lives.

Chair of the Museum board of trustees Judge Siraj Desai, spoke of the unflagging commitment of both late Minister Dullah Omar and Judge Essa Moosa to issues of social justice and transformation both under Apartheid and in the new democratic South Africa. They were active and engaged until the end.

Their portraits in the upper gallery of the Museum were unfurled by family members, and they now look down on us together with others such as Cissie Gool, Clements Kadalie, Naz Ebrahim and John Gomez.

DSC_0173DSC_0179Dr Allan Boesak was the guest speaker, and his words enthralled and inspired the attentive audience.

The full text of his speech follows below.


District Six Museum

July 6, 2019


Honourable Judge Siraj Desai and the Board of the District Six Museum,

Family of Essa and Dullah, Friends, Brothers and Sisters:

What a privilege and honour to join you today in rejoicing in the life and work of two such remarkable and outstanding South Africans, in life friends to all of us gathered here this afternoon: Dullah Omar and Essa Moosa. And what an entirely proper, and absolutely well-deserved gesture from the District Six Museum. Thank you!

As a rallying cry, the words “Proudly South African” have, it seems, lost their glitter; for too many of us perhaps, it is now the meaningless slogan of an airline that has become a perpetual problem rather than a proud symbol. It is, for too many, something we sneer at on the airplane when the food comes, or when our flight is so late it made us miss something important at home. It does not help if I tell those compatriots that flying on any United States airline is infinitely worse. They can always find another reason for their irritations.

For those South Africans, “Proudly South African” is a bitter-sweet joke in light of the incomprehensible levels of corruption at our parastatal enterprises, government departments and state entities, offering us no succour at all during the ongoing, mind-numbing days of the Zondo Commission and its shocking revelations. The mere word “Bosassa”, every time it is uttered, has been stripping us of too much of our rightful pride, it seems. More than just a symbol of corruption, or an indication of internal cannibalism, we now know how cankerous, how endemic it is to our entire body politic.

I think it is better to not mention the word “cricket.”

But today, in this place where sacred memories are kept and honoured, and where hopes for the future are nurtured, we are honouring two persons who rightly and righteously have given meaning to the cry, “Proudly South African.” For what is it that makes a people great? What does it mean when we are able to stand and fight for what we believe in, to be mown down but not blown away by the forces of evil? What is it when we struggle and fall, and stand up to fight again, to cry through our tears, “the struggle continues?” What does it mean when we are able to grab history by the scruff of the neck, wrenching it from the hands of the powerful and the mighty, turning it around, placing it with confidence in the hands of the people, and see justice triumph? To me, that is what it means to be proudly South African.

And it all comes together in the lives of these two friends and comrades. For me, both in personal terms and as comrades in the struggle, they personified and defined what should be unabashedly striven for and held up as the gold standard for our lives and the life of the nation: patriotism undefiled by cynicism, comradeship elevated by companionship, friendship purified by fire, political commitment leavened by personal integrity, love for our people girded by love of compassionate justice. That is what it means to be “proudly South African.”

When these two men died, we felt deeply, tragically, and radically diminished. How shall we become whole again, we asked; how shall we continue without them, where will we find someone to replace them? And looking back over our most recent past, we realize with a sense of shock that these were not idle questions, asked in a moment of deep sorrow and loss. These are some of the most relevant and urgent questions facing us today.

Essa and Dullah, separately and together, were such a large, commanding presence in our struggle for liberation, in the life of the nation, and in the lives of the countless people who found in them a comrade, a counsellor, a friend, a source of strength, and a brother. In ways we have known for as long as we have known them, and in ways we are only now discovering since their passing, and are sure to discover in the years ahead, Dullah and Essa have deepened and elevated our struggle, gave sense to what we were doing, and why we were doing it, provided direction and guidance, helped us discover the deepest purpose of our lives. Both of them taught us not only to know that we are in a struggle, but why we are in that struggle.

Essa Moosa and Dullah Omar were extraordinary human beings in their own time. They are even more so today. Some people say they live for the struggle. That is something we all understand and respect. They say they are driven by passion for the struggle and that passion is exclusive, single-minded, and one-dimensional. In that passion the ends are all – means do not matter. In that passion all attention is focused on what is sometimes called the “end-game”. Pain, sacrifice, even death, are not wilfully ignored or trivialised, but rather reduced to historical determination, political inevitabilities, unavoidable outcomes. Loss is calculated to serve the greater good, and therefore could be turned into possible gain. For the struggle.

But in some incredibly moving, and convincing way, Dullah Omar and Essa Moosa, each in their own way, were not like that. Not only were they – in practical, political, strategic ways – at the heart of our struggle; without them, it always seemed to me, the struggle would not have had a heart. Essa and Dullah were entirely inside the struggle, but for them the struggle was not merely about goals and ends; not simply about tactics and strategies; outcomes and calculations. For Essa and Dullah, the struggle was always about the people – their plight and their pain, their fights and losses, their hopes and dreams, their rights, their aspirations. They never turned the people’s sacrifices into slogans or the people’s dreams into political commodities. They counted the tears of the mothers, they gathered the fears of the fathers and the cries of the children in the greatness of their hearts, and this made these two comrades into the formidable foes of injustice we all knew. Essa Moosa and Dullah Omar clothed their passion for the struggle in the combative compassion for the people.

That is extraordinary.

The struggle made no sense without the people – this they knew; it had no meaning and no future if it did not carry, and cherished within it the hopes of the people. They believed that without compassion the struggle had no heart. Their love for the struggle was unthinkable without their love for the people.

That is extraordinary.

Over the years, thousands came to them for help not just because the people knew they would find help, but because the people knew they were loved. Thousands did not find it strange or unbecoming to call upon them day and night; not because they could pay them, but because they knew they were loved. And because they knew that, parents knew they could trust them with the lives of their children, and young people knew they could trust them with their dreams. To all the human rights they fought for, they added one more: the people’s right to trust their leaders, and they knew that trust had to be earned. So they set the example.

Thinking of our recent history, and looking at global politics and what is strutting around on the world stage, we now understand better just how extraordinary that is.

For Dullah and Essa, the struggle was not simply about what the people needed; instead, they asked what the people deserved. They knew that if we worked merely with the people’s needs, we make them dependent on the powerful who first caused that need and then determined how that need should be responded to. That, as Adam Small put it, would have made the struggle a form of begging. If we asked what the people deserved however, we honour their lives and their sacrifices, we honour their aspirations and their humanity, we honour what a just and merciful God meant for them to have, namely a life of freedom, justice and fulfilment; and choices. In that way we also honour their dignity and their agency.

Essa and Dullah truly ubuntified our struggle.

In my long relationship with both men, I saw them become genuinely distressed when they saw wrongs they could not right; an injustice they could not fight or change; an indignity they could not rectify. How we need such noble distress today. Noble, because it is a distress not about themselves but about others, the vulnerable, defenceless, powerless others. Today we are more likely to find distress about some form of entitlement not being satisfied, about greed uncovered too soon, about self-interest too prematurely thwarted, or about power exposed as abuse.

All of you have known these two comrades. All of you at some time or another, have marvelled at their humility. Fortunately, that is a quality shared by some others we know as well. But I have discovered that even their humility was unique: it was not a humility that paralyses, because it feeds on false modesty and unacknowledged fears. It never extinguished the quiet fires of outrage against injustice. It showed itself in the gentle audacity of hope; in the unassuming persistence that might shall not prevail, in the insistent determination that the voiceless shall be heard, the powerless shall find strength, that justice shall triumph.

Their humility did not stifle or smother their righteous anger against oppression. Rather than make them slink into the safe corners of silence, it made them raise hell. It also made them raise pertinent, important, and inescapable questions.



I thought about this as I was reading that great African American scholar, activist, and Pan-Africanist, W.E.B. DuBois. In 1957, six years before his death, in The Ordeal of Mansart, Book One of his still fascinating three-part work, The Black Frame Trilogy, W.E.B. DuBois posed a series of questions that, already challenging in the struggles of his day, would become increasingly so for the times that followed; ours included.

“How shall integrity face oppression?” he asked. “What shall honesty do in the face of deception? Decency in the face of insult, self-defense before blows? How shall [courage] and accomplishment meet despising, detraction, and lies? What shall virtue do to meet brute force?”

These are questions, we are discovering, that were not only pertinent to the situation in the United States, from where DuBois was writing and where Dr Martin Luther King Jr. and the black masses of America answered them so magnificently in the Civil Rights struggle. DuBois’ voice has been, and is still calling to us, everywhere, in every generation. Even if we did not consciously think about DuBois, (as much as we did about Franz Fanon, for example), these were the very same questions our generation were faced with, and were called upon to answer. They have grown in urgency, these words; became immortal words that challenge the very core of our being, the decisions we make about the most urgent matters in life, the way we face the global struggles for justice, freedom, equality and dignity in our day. Indeed, they determine the way we embrace our humanity, for how we respond will tell us what kind of human beings we are, the depth of our commitment to a humane, just, and peaceable world. Dullah Omar and Essa Moosa not only heard these questions, they asked them of us and of themselves, and they answered them, each in their own way, for generations to follow.

The world of imperial domination in which we live today, in the words of Helmut Gollwitzer, pastor of the Confessing Church and resister against the Nazi’s and speaking of his own times, is a world “shaken by deadly convulsions.” Let’s think about this for a moment. The combined wealth of the world’s richest 1% overtook that of the other 99% in 2016. More than half of the wealth in the world was then in the hands of just 62 individuals, more than is owned by the entire 3.5 billion of the world’s population. But this is what Oxfam said in 2016. That is now old news. The year 2017 had scarcely started and we had to revise our statistics. In January 2017 Oxfam reported that the situation was much worse: just 8 white men own as much wealth as half the world’s population. One in nine people do not have enough to eat and more than 1 billion people live on less than $1.25 a day.

This year Oxfam reported that in 2018 billionaire fortunes grew by $2.5 billion a day while the 3.8 billion of the poorest half of humanity saw their wealth decline by 11%. New billionaires were created every two days between 2017 and 2018, while every day 1000 people die because of lack of access to basic, affordable health care. And just last month AfriAsia Bank reported that 3,000 of South Africa’s riches billionaires live in the Paarl, Stellenbosch Franschhoek triangle, amidst some of our country’s worst poverty. And South Africa is today the most unequal society on earth. Essa and Dullah would have been outraged.

In January 2017 the United States and the world witnessed a spectacle many were convinced they would never see, and all over the world misogynists and homophobes of every stripe, creed and colour; white supremacists and unashamed racists from New Nazi’s in Europe to revived apartheid defenders in South Africa and new apartheid creators in Israel arise emboldened. Predatory capitalists, worshippers of money and destroyers of the Earth have rejuvenated joy; war mongers and the makers of drones, cluster bombs, barrel bombs, land mines and all kinds of deadly chemical weapons rejoice in the temples of profiteering as they see their fortunes and stocks rise even higher this year.

This is a world shaken by deadly convulsions.

I am not even speaking of the death toll of hundreds of thousands in the terrifying, endless wars in Syria, Yemen, Iraq, Afghanistan and at least three other Muslim countries caused by an unquenchable thirst for oil, hunger for power and senseless Islamophobia; of the millions of refugees from North Africa, Syria and other war-torn and economically devastated places. Neither am I speaking of the more than 10,000 refugee children who have gone missing on the borders of European countries or even inside those countries where the hostile systems put in place there have exacerbated their refugee situation and buried their plight under mountains of xenophobic hate disguised as bureaucratic red tape, and drowned their calls for compassion in the battle cries of a renewed, racist, European Christian nationalism.

In the context of the ongoing struggles for freedom, justice and peace – in Africa and the Middle East (think of the incredibly brave young people of Sudan); of LGBTQI persons and women under serious physical, political, and spiritual attack; of indigenous communities to preserve or regain a way of life that would be life-giving to all of creation, or Palestinians who in their struggles for justice, freedom and dignity have become the measure of our sense of moral and political responsibility at this point in our history; of those peacemakers  who have the courage to stand up against the greed and callousness of warmongers, whether they are in corporate board rooms or political chambers, in scientific laboratories or presidential offices – our mortal enemy is still the lack of integrity, decency, honesty and courage in our politics and in the workings of our societies.


There is much to critique about the policies of our government, the failure to execute properly those quite excellent policies we do have, and the tragic ways in which our democratic experiment has lost its way. Those who have followed my work, not only in the apartheid years but since 1994, will know my strong feelings about justice and injustice, about the widening, scandalous, and dangerous gap between rich and poor – one of the greatest challenges this country is facing, and still seems to be ignoring – about the failure of the rightful redistribution of land, wealth and power. My concerns about the uncritical, unwise haste with which we embraced neo-liberal capitalism have deepened. So has my distress at our captured reconciliation process, our hijacked revolution and our crippled transformation. And as responsible citizens we should engage in robust, honest public discourse and action on these and other crucial matters.

But one of the things I am both grateful for and proud of is some of the wise choices we have made in foreign policy, and central to them all is our unwavering demand and support for Palestinian freedom, Palestinian self-determination, Palestinian dignity, and the Palestinian right of return. And we have been upfront, honest and clear about this matter from the beginning of this new era.

Recently, I have been revisiting the now-famous conversation between President Nelson Mandela and American TV host Ted Koppel, at Koppel’s Town Hall meeting with Mr. Mandela in 1990 in New York City. On the question of Palestine, on which the discussion lingered, Mr. Mandela was clear and laid down a few fundamentals, applicable to much more than the Palestinian issue, and which have continued to guide our government on these matters. I will mention only two. First, and right off the bat, he touched on the wide expectation in the United States and other powerful countries, that when they make a decision for themselves, they expect all other countries to unquestioningly follow suit. “The one thing which some countries always get wrong,” Madiba said to him, in words that got some of the loudest applause of the evening, “is that they think that their enemies are our enemies. [But] our attitude to that country is determined by that country’s attitude to our struggle.” That means that we are guided by principles of justice, freedom, dignity and solidarity. No matter what your attitude is to these things: for us, they are inestimable values, cardinal to our politics and central to our existence as a dignified people. That also means that we are as committed to the liberation of Palestine as we are to the liberation of South Africa.

Secondly, Madiba made clear, in words that remind me so much of Dullah’s insistence that principles matter, “For anybody who changes their principles depending on whom they are speaking with, that is not a person who can be a leader of their nation.” Those are words our political leaders should earnestly take to heart. When Ted Koppel, eloquent and clever TV host, just sat there looking at him, clearly not used to such a demonstration of the true meaning of leadership, global politics and the power of the powerless, Madiba smiled and said: “I don’t know if I have paralysed you …” It brought the house down.

But the wit of Nelson Mandela, the stupefication of his famous host, the laughter and applause from the audience must not distract our attention from the valuable lessons Madiba was teaching the world; lessons which he hoped would continue to be embraced by South Africa, its government and its people. Fundamentally, Mandela was warning against the wet-finger-in-the-wind politics so prevalent now across the world. In the times in which we live some things have become distressingly clear and even more distressingly common: diplomacy has been replaced by blackmail, negotiations by threats, the politics of decency and integrity by the politics of expediency and vulgarity. What Mandela hoped our country would sustain, and what our government would practice, not incidentally but as a matter of principle, is the real art of diplomacy: the diplomacy of solidarity, decency, honesty, and integrity, guided by principled leadership.

But this is true not only for Palestine. This is true for what has become known as the policies of regime-change that have been intensified so much over the last twenty years or so, and that continue to have such disastrous consequences across the world. These are policies that, as a friend of mine has once put it, have been the epitome of “catastrophic success”: Afghanistan and Iraq, Libya and Somalia, Honduras and Guatemala, and now Venezuela. And increasingly, what has been started in Iran in 1953 by the US and the UK, we see now once again threatening Iran in 2019.

When no fewer than sixty countries, including those in the European Union, jumped when Mr. Trump cracked the whip on his actions against Venezuela, South Africa was one of those who remained firm, steadfastly standing by what Madiba had taught us. Now that the hasty embrace of Juan Guaido has become so toxic, and those countries are looking for ways to make a retreat, South Africa, in this regard, and 40,000 Venezuelan deaths later, has nothing to be ashamed of. That is the diplomacy of integrity, decency, and solidarity. And that should make us proudly South African.

Essa and Dullah would have rejoiced. And like me, they would hope that the current initiatives on Venezuela in Oslo would not turn out to be another useless Oslo Peace Accord that has brought nothing but further disaster for occupied Palestine, even while we know that that particular political vulgarity known as “The Deal of the Century” is even worse. When in 1994, South Africa announced that our foreign policy would be based on human rights and include recognition of the principles of Ubuntu, there were those who scoffed, accusing us of a kind of African naïvité, out of place in the harsh realities of this world.

They may now think they were right, but not because we were wrong. And look where that mindless cynicism has taken the world: foreign policies characterised by bullying instead of respectful negotiation; forceful capitulation instead of common understanding; submission instead of equal partnership; reckless lawlessness instead of respect for international law. Rabid ethnic and religious nationalism instead of inclusive global security, and xenophobic rage instead of an understanding of our common humanity. Imperialist expansionism instead of peaceful co-existence; destructive, unbridled neo-liberal capitalist exploitation instead of planetary security; internationalised thuggery instead of the promotion and protection of human rights, and nationalistic vanity instead of global servanthood. It is a form of international political vandalism.

Our world, in the grip of frightening imperial arrogance and hubris, is a world in terrible upheaval. In this world, Du Bois’ questions and Madiba’s wisdom call to us with a fierce urgency that is inescapable and inescapably personal: in the face of lies and deceit, of insult and brute force, of despising and detraction: where is our integrity and honesty? What does it mean to be decent and courageous? In other words, what does it mean to be truly human? Neither Mandela, nor Du Bois will let go of us.


Du Bois had lived his life in times that were no less times of terrible upheaval than ours today. He had been fighting for justice, freedom and equality for African-Americans all his life. It was life’s bitter experience, and life’s infinite founts of wisdom gained by the oppressed, not philosophical idleness that prompted these questions. He wrote these words in 1957, but recall the times: racial injustice, mindless oppression, endless humiliation, systemic discrimination, lynchings and gratuitous violence of a viciousness that stuns the mind. It is time for us to return to those questions, to imprint Mandela’s wisdom on our hearts and minds, as Essa and Dullah tried to do.

Essa and Dullah are no longer with us. But the struggle for justice, equality, dignity and genuine freedom is far from over. We are facing old, ongoing, and new challenges. Apartheid, they tell us, is gone, but apartheid is everywhere. Reconciliation has been realised, they tell us, but reconciliation without repentance that is the restoration of justice and dignity is nothing more than political pietism, an empty clanging cymbal, a worthless slogan. The culture of corruption, the mindless self-indulgence of the rich and powerful, the self-destructive politics of instant gratification, delusion, and deception we now call state capture is simply the symptom of the deeper sickness that is the disdain for the poor, the deeper insult that is the betrayal of the trust of our people, the deeper malady that is the contempt for our sacrifices and our hopes. We have so much work to do still. Perhaps, one fervently hopes, the “new dawn” President Ramaphosa has promised will take us closer to those goals for which so many have struggled, sacrificed and died.

It is said that no one is indispensable. And in the long curve of life and the cycles of endings and new beginnings, I suppose that is true. But I believe it is only true if there is no example to follow, no life to emulate, no star to guide, no legacy to honour. So in the long run we may find that Dullah and Essa too, are not indispensable. But what remains truer than this is the fact that they are and always will be unforgettable. What they have been is what they will always be in our hearts, and what they have done will always guide us toward what it is that we should do, as long as this struggle continues.

What counts is what we do in the moment that we are alive, and that is what makes us indispensable. Indispensable for the moment in which we live, for no one can do for us what we have to do for ourselves. No one can make us believe about ourselves what we know to be untrue, so no one can tell us we cannot be strong, we cannot be courageous, we cannot be faithful to our cause, to our people, and to our God. No one can make us forget that as long as there is pain and suffering, rejection and exclusion, injustice and violence inflicted upon the vulnerable, there is something to fight for. And no one can make us forget what we are called to do, in this moment of our times, and that makes us indispensable. This is what joins indispensability to unforgettability.

So in times of our greatest distress, of our deepest disappointments, of our darkest bewilderments, when we feel the helplessness of our own dispensability, we remember Essa and Dullah, and let them inspire us, remind us of who they were and what we have pledged ourselves to be. That is what makes them unforgettable and indispensable. What makes them unforgettable and indispensable is that they remind us that we too, can be as indispensable and we will be as unforgettable.

In these ongoing struggles, we must, as Charles Villa-Vicencio called them, “the restless presence” in the life of the nation. We must not make the imperfect our yardstick, nor the mediocre our consolation. We must not measure our progress by the comfort of the rich, but by the character of the justice we do to the poor and vulnerable. Judgement on our walk to our God-ordained destiny as a people must not be taken from the privileged and pampered circles of the powerful, but from the powerless, the voiceless and the vulnerable. The authority with which we rule in this country must not be derived from the approval of the mighty and the boastful, but must rest upon the hopes of the poor, the ones of unimpressive proportions, in whom the living God has invested the hope for life, and where our hope for life is to be found.

That is what it means to be proudly South African.

Allan Boesak

‘EDUCATION MATTERS’: Supper Club with Lyrice Trussel

Thursday 23 May, 18h30 at the District Six Museum Homecoming Centre promises to be an evening of thoughtful conversation and great food!

Strong views on education and other matters that are important to our country on a macro-level, and to her community on a micro-level, is what characterises  our May Supper Club guest, Lyrice Trussel. lyrice-trussel-static

Educator, subject advisor, curriculum specialist and outspoken practitioner, Lyrice’s contributions to the broad education debates come from her consistently practicing what she preaches for more than three decades.

Join the District Six Museum Supper Club movement, which is geared towards developing our collective listening and problem-solving skills. Where we are able to explore new and different views respectfully, in a positive environment. Let’s listen, let’s talk, let’s break bread and remain engaged in matters that affect us all and that can make a difference to the quality of our evolving and sometimes flailing transformation.

For those observing Ramadaan, a quiet place for breaking fast at Iftar will be made available before the start of Supper Club. Dates will also be provided.


Thursday 23 May 2019

18h00 – 20h30

District Six Museum Homecoming Centre

15 Buitenkant Street

Bookings / enquiries: Matthew Nissen: 021 4667200 /





FRANK TALK Dialogue: ‘The Importance of Addressing the Land Issue Urgently’

Join the District Six Museum and the Steve Biko Foundation in this round-table discussion on Thursday 9 May from 6.00 – 8.30pm- one day after the country’s sixth national democratic elections. The venue for this discussion will be the District Six Museum’s Homecoming Centre, 15A Buitenkant Street, Cape

Twenty five years into democracy, the land question remains a burning issue in the South African political landscape.

Following a motion raised by the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) last year in Parliament for Section 25 of the Constitution to be amended to allow the expropriation of land without compensation for equal redistribution, President Cyril Ramaphosa committed to land expropriation without compensation, provided it doesn’t undermine the economy and impact on food production and security.

Since the end of Apartheid in 1994, the ANC has followed a “willing-seller, willing-buyer” model whereby the government buys white-owned farms for redistribution to Black people. However, this approach has failed and delayed the process of equally redistributing land in South Africa. The majority of South Africans continue to express their disquiet about the slowness and the resulting triple challenge of poverty, unemployment and inequality. The government has since scrapped this policy and introduced the land expropriation bill to fast-track the process of land redistribution.

The land question remains largely a contentious issue in South African politics. While some argue for a fast-tracking of the process of redistributing land, others argue that the acceleration of land redistribution needs to balance the urgency of social redress with sustainable land usage and food security. However, there is no argument that a way has to be found to redistribute and to restitute the land to those who were forcibly dispossessed of it.

The proposed FrankTalk dialogue will closely examine why it is imperative for the nation to address the land issue with urgency.


Freedom Day at District Six MuseumEMPATHEATRE

with Empatheater presenting BOXES

Saturday 27 April 2019: 11h00


BOXES, a one-act play

Devised and written by Neil Coppen (Olive Schreiner Award for Drama 2019; Standard Bank Young Artist for Drama 2011)

Co-written by Ameera Conrad (The Fall) in collaboration with journalist Daneel Knoetze (GroundUp)

Performed by Quanita Adams (Binnelanders; At her Feet)& Mark Elderkin (Tali’s Wedding Diary; Shakespeare in Love)

Produced by Empatheatre Ltd.

 BOXES is a thirty minute social-justice theatre project devised by award-winning theatre-makers Neil Coppen and Ameera Conrad, journalist Daneel Knoetze and performers Quanita Adams and Mark Elderkin. The project draws from a range of research-based, verbatim and documentary theatre methodologies to explore a myriad of perspectives and insights into urban land justice issues occurring across the City of Cape Town.

The play’s central narrative focuses around a young Cape Town couple: Kaye (Quanita Adams) and Lawrence (Mark Elderkin) who have recently moved to the inner-city and find their preparations for a house-warming dinner derailed when Lawrence announces that he has accepted a job offer to design a state-of-the art residential development in lower Woodstock. When it is discovered that local residents will be evicted from their neighbourhood to make room for the development, Kaye begins to probe the repercussions of her partner’s latest venture. As Kaye and Lawrence battle it out, we learn of Kaye’s interactions with her Aunt Sumaya in the Bo Kaap, who due to rising rates is having to sell up her family home and has been inspired to return to her activist roots.
As Kaye and Lawrence attempt to arrive at some sort of a resolve before the arrival of their dinner guests, audiences encounter a myriad of characters including property developers, politicians, residents and whistle-blowers whose lives are impacted, for better or worse, by the gentrification trends sweeping across the city and suburbs.

Over the course of four short scenes, Boxes probes the legacy of apartheid spatial planning and forced removals, examining notions of ‘development’ and ‘progress’, by interrogating the question: Who is really benefitting from all this so-called progress?

The play forms part of a wider Open Society Foundation project which connects South African investigative journalists with theatre makers and artists. The project encourage creatives to interpret the work of investigative journalists with the hope that alternative dissemination strategies would enable these narratives to reach wider audiences in the lead up to the 2019 South African elections.

Boxes is an appropriate contribution on this day marking the country’s hard-won freedoms. The commemoration of Freedom Day is a reminder that there is much to celebrate, and as much to re-commit to each year as we move further and further away from that glorious day on 27 April 1994. On that day all South Africans went to the polls as equals for the first time.

In this year, 25 years later, the gains of the freedom struggle seem distant; some would even say that they have been destroyed. It is more important than ever to raise our collective awareness about the value of strengthening the solidarity of citizens across all sectors, so as to be empowered to defend our freedoms.

As part of the broad District Six community, we should think about:

  • What is the state of freedom in our country? To what extent do YOU feel free?
  • What has helped YOU to express and exercise your freedom?
  • What do we need to do to ensure that the hard-won freedoms are guaranteed for ourselves and future generations?
  • What role does REMEMBERING the past play in the protection of our freedoms?


 VENUE: District Six Museum Homecoming Centre


 ADDRESS: 15 Buitenkant Street

 TIME: 11h00, performance of BOXES starting at 12h00

  ENQUIRIES: 021 4667200

* * *

About the Theatre Company

The play is produced by Empatheatre, a Durban-based company founded by Neil Coppen, Mpume Mthombeni and Dylan McGarry. Empatheatre has been responsible for launching several social-justice theatrical projects over the last decade including Soil & Ash (focusing on rural communities facing pressure from coal-mining companies), Ulwembu (street-level drug addiction and harm reduction advocacy), The Last Country (female migration stories), Boxes (homelessness and urban land justice inequalities in the city of Cape Town) and Lalela ulwandle (an international  theatre project supporting sustainable transformative governance of the oceans). More recently the Empatheatre team has been invited to work internationally in New York, St Louis, Toronto, Fiji, Ghana and Namibia.






Artist Haroon Gunn-Salie initiated an intervention to take down area signs indicating ‘Zonnebloem’



‘Zonnebloem’ area sign replaced with sign indicating ‘District Six’

Replacing the name ‘District Six’ with the name ‘Zonnebloem’ after displacing the people and bulldozing their homes, represented a final step in erasing the memory of the area under Apartheid. The official name on the map remains as Zonnebloem, and as an area name it remains closely associated with that Apartheid erasure. Claiming the right to return residentially, reclaiming social spaces, street names and ultimately the name of the area, are all components of the process of holistic restitution and restorative justice.

Acting on the expressed desire of the former residents of District Six, particularly those who are members of the Seven Steps Club, the District Six Museum has made an application to the Provincial Government’s Geographic and Place Names Committee to have the historic name reinstated. In order for this to be considered, we need to demonstrate that there is substantial public support for this, and to this end the Museum has initiated a campaign aimed at testing whether its understanding of such opinion is correct. Opportunities for expressing themselves will also be created for those who do not support this initiative, so as to understand what their concerns are.

Most of the campaign will take place during April and May of this year, and will consist of:

  • Door-to-door canvassing, particularly in the District Six area
  • Letters to the newspaper, as well as articles and press releases
  • Press releases to radio stations
  • Letters to businesses, organisations and institutions such as schools and clinics, to solicit their support
  • Letters in support of this initiative can also be signed in the Museum’s bookshop and coffee shop

For more information about the campaign, to make suggestions or to offer support, please email Matthew Nissen at or call him on 021 4667200.



2019_03_28-SUPPER CLUB WITH KHARNITA MOHAMED2019 Theme: ‘Finding Voices’

With its origin story firmly located in the practice of oral narratives, the District Six Museum is often described as an entity which ‘gives voice’ to people who have been rendered voiceless. Most times the people being referred to are those who have been displaced under Apartheid.

While acknowledging the affirmation that might be intended by that perspective, we self-identify somewhat differently, always believing that people have voices and express themselves regardless of whether organisations such as the District Six Museum exist or not. We see ourselves more on the level of creating opportunities for listening, and offering platforms for the existing voices of people to be heard, amplified and supported. It seeks out stories that are already in circulation, in order to strengthen its own understandings of what it means to be a platform for multiple and even discordant voices.

The difference might seem trite and subtle, but it is an important one which keeps us from speaking on behalf of people and usurping their voices. Hence, this 2019 theme signals our conscious attempt to actively find different voices.

The District Six Museum Supper Club is entering its fifth year of existence. It flowed from an exploration of the many ways in which ‘homecoming’ could be practically interpreted in actualising the intention of the Homecoming Centre. The common symbolism of community and sharing inherent in the idea of tables is referenced here: round-tables, ‘sitting around the table together’, the long-table concept, combined with the Cape Town practice of ‘gooi ‘n tafel’. This literally, means ‘throw a table’ (as in ‘throw a party’) and is particularly familiar to people from District Six and the Bo Kaap. It references the tables that were laid out by families  for Christmas Choirs, Malay Choirs and Minstrels during the Christmas and New Year holiday period.  Laden with seasonal fruit like watermelon as well as pastries and cakes, the tafels were decidedly celebratory, signalling the culmination of the year-long preparation of rehearsals, voice-training and costume-making.

Tables are thus evocative symbols for the District Six community representing coming together, sharing, arguing, breaking bread and storytelling around a common space. Tables also reference the intimate family rituals around food, work and religion that were performed in District Six homes before destruction, on a daily basis.

The District Six Museum’s Supper Club concept emerged from a desire to create opportunities for conversations of all kinds: enlightening, entertaining, philosophical, lyrical, visual or performative. It is intended to bring people together who might ordinarily not have met, and also create opportunities for friends to meet up with each other. It aims to contribute to a culture which encourages the expression of different points of view in a space which is contained and supportive.

Past Supper Club storytellers have been very diverse. They have included Diana Ferrus, Prof Njabulo Ndebele, Ernestine Deane, Terry Fortune, Basil Appollis, Trevor Jones, Auriol Hayes, George Hallett, Tina Schouw, Jitsvinger and Fatima Dike and Prof Saths Cooper, amongst others.

Storytellers are invited to share their stories in whichever  way they wish, and guests attending the session are invited to listen and to later engage in conversations with the storyteller and with each other. Conversations continue over supper and dessert. Hopefully friendships and engagements will continue beyond the evening.

The 2019 iteration of the Supper Club series  is called ‘Finding Voices.’

March Supper Club

Date:                  Thursday 28 March 2019

Time:                 18h00 – 20h30

Cost:                   R 150

                             (payments can be made by EFT, Quicket, cash or credit car)

Bookings:         Email Matthew Nissen-

                             Call: Chantal Delilie – -21 4667200

Guest:                Kharnita Mohamed

Kharnita Mohamed lectures in Social Anthropology at the University of Cape Town and is working on a PhD in Women’s and Gender Studies at the University of the Western Cape. She has an MA in Anthropology from the University of Chicago. Raised on the Cape Flats, she is frequently confounded by the contradictions of post-Apartheid South Africa. She has written her first novel, ‘Called to Song’.

Interactive discussion (2): the South Africa we all want to live in

Paarl Dialogue



Members of the public, especially those involved in non-governmental and community organisations, are invited to the Library at Paarl Boys High, Paarl, on Thursday 14 March 2019 to discuss what they would want in a future South Africa.

The event, hosted by Radio KC, the Community Chest of the Western Cape, the District Six Museum and the One City, Many Cultures Project, follows a similar discussion at the District Six Homecoming Centre in February where it was decided to broaden the discussion to towns around the Western Cape.

The discussion, facilitated by media expert Ryland Fisher and Bonita Bennett, director of the District Six Museum, will reverse the traditional trend of panel discussions. The discussion will start with inputs from the floor and invited respondents in the audience will be allowed to comment at the end. This is to ensure that more people are able to participate in the discussion within the limited time allocated.

“We started with a discussion on the role of NGOs in an election year and followed this up with a discussion on the South Africa we all want to live in. It became clear that we needed to take this discussion outside of the Cape Town metropolitan area,” said Community Chest CEO Lorenzo Davids.

The District Six Museum’s Bennett added: “We want to know from a range of people what are the issues we want government to deal with. How do we interact with government in a way that will help them achieve a more equitable society? How do we fix the many things that are wrong in our country so that we can all look forward to a better and more positive future? What do we want the country we live in to look like?

“We will bring together a group of people who are interested in taking forward the vision of a more equitable society irrespective of political affiliation. Our aim is not to point fingers at anyone but to help in the search for solutions.”

Radio KC Chairperson, Dr. Harlan Cloete said that the discussions were important to ensure proper democracy in our country. “Our democracy is incomplete, and these conversations will give effect to participatory democracy. We will make a concerted effort to ensure that the young people, who are the future, attend.”

Fisher said that after all the dialogues – the final one will be in June, after the elections – the organisers intend to draw up a report that will be circulated to senior politicians and municipalities throughout South Africa to give them an idea of the views of ordinary South Africans.

The Paarl dialogue will be the second in the “South Africa We Want” series. It will be followed by one in Stellenbosch on Tuesday 19 March.

Lights snacks will be served before and after the discussion. For catering purposes, RSVP to

The event details in summary:

Event: Interactive discussion on the South Africa we all want to live in

Hosted by: Radio KC, District Six Museum, the Community Chest of the Western Cape and One City, Many Cultures Project

When: Thursday 14 March 2019

Where: Library, Paarl Boys High, Paarl

Time: 5.30pm for 6pm until 8pm

For more information, contact Ryland Fisher ( or 082 800 5326), Bonita Bennett ( or 021 466 7200) or Lorenzo Davids ( or 021 487 1500)

Interactive Discussion The South Africa we all want to live in

Interactive Discussion Social Media Post_19 Feb .png

Members of the public, especially those involved in non-governmental and community organisations, are invited to the District Six Homecoming Centre next Tuesday night (19 February 2019) to discuss what they would want in a future South Africa.

The event, hosted by Community Chest, the District Six Museum and the One City Many Cultures Project, follows on a recent discussion about the role of NGOs in an election year where it was clear that there was a need for a broader, more interactive discussion.

The discussion, facilitated by media expert Ryland Fisher and Bonita Bennett, director of the District Six Museum, will reverse the traditional trend of panel discussions. The discussion will start with inputs from the floor and invited respondents in the audience will be allowed to comment at the end. This is to ensure that more people are able to participate in the discussion within the limited time allocated.

“After the success of our previous panel discussion, held in January and where we explored the role of NGOs in an election year, it was decided that we needed to broaden the topic to look at what we want from the government that we will elect in a few months’ time,” said Community Chest CEO Lorenzo Davids.

Bennett added: “We want to know from ordinary people what are the issues we want government to deal with. How do we interact with government in a way that will help them achieve a more equitable society? How do we fix the many things that are wrong in our country so that we can all look forward to a better and more positive future? What do we want the country we live in to look like?

“We will bring together a group of people who are interested in taking forward the vision of a more equitable society irrespective of political affiliation. Our aim is not to point fingers at anyone but to help in the search for solutions.”

Fisher said that at the end of all the dialogues – the final one will be after the elections – the organisers intend to draw up a report that will be circulated to senior politicians and municipalities throughout South Africa to give them an idea of the views of ordinary South Africans.

Details of the other dialogues, which will be held at venues across Cape Town and the Western Cape, will be announced at the event.

For catering purposes, RSVP to

Celebrating Alex La Guma

20 February 1925 – 11 October 1985


Alex La Guma was one of South Africa’s greatest writers of the 21st century. Born in Roger Street in District Six, this community became the setting for his first book, A Walk in the Night, which he wrote in 1962. In the next few years he also wrote And a Threefold Cord, The Stone Country, The Fog at the Season’s End, and Time of the Butcherbird. He was also an important political figure, and spent large chunks of time wither banned, under house arrest in prison and finally in exile. He was living  with his wife Blanche in Cuba as chief representative of the African National Congress in the Caribbean at the time of his death in October 1985.

Had he lived, Alex La Guma would have celebrated his 94th birthday on 20 February 2019. District Six Museum together with Friends of Cuba, invite you to a launch event on Wednesday 20 February 2019, starting at 18h00, at which we will share some ideas about the commemorative programme for the year. His good friend and legal counsel Judge Albie Sachs will be the guest speaker for the evening, and we will listen to a selection of readings from his works.

Please RSVP by Monday 18 February for catering purposes, by calling 021 4667200 or emailing

Please note that this event will take the place of the Museum’s Supper Club event for February.