Hoisted with their own petard

During the 1980s South Africa became an increasingly angry country. The government of the day and the movements that were pitted against it in an armed, political, social and economic  confrontation, progressively ratcheted up the intensity of their respective campaigns. By the middle of the decade a low intensity war had transformed into a no holds barred outburst of unfettered violence.

On a frenetic Friday afternoon in the bustling capital, Pretoria, at 16h30 on the 20th March 1983, as people were making their way home, doing last minute shopping, catching buses, taxis and trains, a seminal moment erupted. In Church Street a massive blast ushered in a hitherto unseen level of horror as a car bomb exploded prematurely outside Nedbank Square – the two bombers as well as some South African Air Force staff and ordinary civil society (whose only role in the conflict was their presence at the wrong time and place) were blown to oblivion. Carnage akin to 911 in New York , although on a lesser scale, ushered in an era of gratuitous violence from which no-one was shielded.

Prior to the Church street bombing, there had been limited assaults on civilians. Landmines on farm roads in the border regions had occurred over some time, but the attacks had involved families and friends of farmers. These were quite localised, though no less reprehensible in that civilians were the targets. Bombs had exploded in cities from time to time, usually targeting state property and employees. John Harris, a school teacher and activist, had in the 1960s killed a civilian in a bomb left at Park Station in Johannesburg – and was executed for having planted the killer device. Somehow, though, the Church Street bombing ushered in an era of bombings at fast food outlets and family restaurants. Retaliation by the State with cross-border raids into neighbouring territories (in which their nemesis, the banned anti-apartheid movements were based) took place. From these territories many of the actions had been planned and launched. These raids also often resulted in death and injury to civilians who were either caught in the cross fire or were killed because of faulty “intelligence”. The collateral damage caused by both sides was horrendous as non-combatants were felled in their wake.

It was in this environment of anger, retribution and “over-kill” that ordinary people had to traverse the terrain of heated conflict and a war engulfing them. Many were affected only because they lived in these fraught times and because their citizenship alone inevitably determined that it was impossible to be a-political. Just living in South Africa was tantamount to taking a political stance and carrying out a political act. 

In the late 80s (and sadly even the early 90s after the process of achieving a political settlement to the South African dilemma) ordinary people, going about their daily lives, had to face the reality of an angry country at war with itself. A child entering a fast food outlet was just as likely to become a victim of the insane aggression as a soldier guarding state premises or women boarding township trains to head into the city where they worked. In the cauldron of violence played out night after night on television news screens world-wide, were stabbings, shootings and, arguably the most horrific of all, necklacings (fuel filled tyres lit around bodies of people thought to be collaborating with the organs of the state). One such horror was perpetrated against a young 24 year old mother, Maki Skosana, who was FALSELY accused of being a police informer. Beaten, kicked, stoned and disrobed, she was set alight and her contorting body in the throes of death was flashed across television screens, uncensored, for a world-wide audience. The innocent victim seemed to increase the anger and hatred that fueled the grotesque violence that passed harsh judgement on the sorry state of the human condition.

A family enters a fast food restaurant in central Cape Town to celebrate a young child’s birthday. An old lady is seated on her own near the street facing window pane. Some school children are enjoying a quick milkshake at a table for six. Near the service hatch two young men are engaged in deep conversation. The restaurant is buzzing with the happy sounds of youngsters enjoying a social outing. 

Unbeknownst to staff and patrons alike, the two young men are discussing the priming of a device which will change their lives forever. They are no suicide bombers. Their firm intention is to ensure the placement of their timer controlled limpet mine – attaching it to the metal leg of their cubicle table. They are focused on their mission and plan to set the timer, pay and exit the restaurant. 

The bill presented, the two busy themselves with the finishing touches to their mission. A careless finger touches an errant wire in the now primed device. An almighty flash precedes a deafening eardrum bursting thud. An arm hurtles past the old lady. A shock wave explodes the window pane and shards of flying glass slice through the air and the children at the table for six. Blood and flesh drips from the ceiling – stalactites in this cave of horrors. The one bomber has been shredded beyond recognition, the other, limbless, lies writhing in his final death throes. The celebrating family is missing a mother and child who are lying in a pool of blood on the floor. The rest are catatonic with shock.

The bombers – hoisted with their own petard.

Another retributive raid into a neighbouring territory obliterates the wrong house. Children and an entirely innocent family are reeling from their loss. They, too, are hapless victims of a war in which both sides are convinced of the merits of their campaign. Both invoke God on their behalf as they confidently declare they are fighting for a just cause.

From this follows a spiral of ever more brutal barbarity. The shocking ordinariness of the people who perpetrate the deeds described and who prosecute the wars which continue to rage in our world, is frightening. Any of us – all of us- have the propensity to execute evil acts. 

Charles de Gaulle hit the mark when he declared: “The better I get to know men, the more I find myself loving dogs.” 

© Paul M Haupt