Marikana. PETER DUKES ALEXANDER

we are still oppressed and abused.’

      The bloodshed, cruelty and sorrow of the massacre could have led to the collapse of the strike. That is what Lonmin, the police and NUM had expected. But it was not to be. Somehow, surviving leaders managed to rally the workers and stiffen their resolve to win the fight. This must have taken great courage and determination. Eventually, the company did agree to talk to the workers. Having done so, it conceded large increases in pay (22 per cent for RDOs) plus a R2,000 return-to-work bonus.59When this was announced on 18 September, it was greeted by the workers as a victory, as indeed it was. The scale of this achievement was soon reflected in a massive wave of unprotected strikes, led by rank-and-file committees, which spread from platinum mining, into gold, and on to other minerals, with ripples extending further into other South African industries. 34 workers were murdered by the police on the battlefield at Marikana, but they did not die in vain.

      3

      Background interviews

      Undertaken by Thapelo Lekgowa and Peter Alexander

      Joseph Mathunjwa, President, Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union

      Joseph Muthunjwa: I was born in 1965. I am from the family of priesthood under the Salvation Army. The relatives of my mother were located around Johannesburg, Witbank, Ermelo. Some were mineworkers. After my high school I came to Witbank looking for a job. I couldn’t go to further education, my father was not getting paid enough to assist. I started working in construction around Witbank, close to the mines. Then I went to Tweefontein Colliery. I was not long there. Then I went to Douglas Colliery. I was working in a laboratory and later in the materials department, but these were not regarded as white-collar jobs, because within the very same departments those jobs were also classified for coloureds, Indians and whites. We were under categories 3 to 8 in those days, but they were on higher categories.

      Interviewer: Do you remember the 1987 strike? As I recall one of the issues in Witbank was about workers wanting to make the hostels family hostels.

      JM: I remember that one. It lasted for a month. I think it was a combination of many things, not really hostels per se. It was called by NUM.

      Interviewer: From then, through to when AMCU was formed, it was 13 years or something like that, do you have strong memories of work in that period?

      JM: I think from ’86 my presence at work was felt because I didn’t wait to join a union to express how I see things. Firstly, when I realised that we were confined in the hostel, [with] no transport for black workers to take them to the locations [townships], to stay with their families, I was the first black person who jumped into a white [only] bus in 1986, forcing my way to the location. Subsequent to that I was the first black person to enter into a white recreation club within the mine. That led me to many troubles with mine management. I was the first person at Douglas who led a campaign [for] workers to have houses outside the mine premises. So I led many campaigns. That was ’86, ’86. NUM was there, but it was not really, what can I say, more instrumental about living outside the mine. It was more focused on disciplinary hearing[s], but not this global approach on social issues.

      Interviewer: How did you organise?

      JM: I would go to the meetings, and people would hear about myself. Then I would go to the general managers’ office. All things started when I boarded the white transport by force. Then the managers had very much interest. ‘Who is this guy?’ They said: ‘There’s the union’. I said, the union does not address these issues. Then they asked: ‘What other issues?’ Then I made a list of those issues, and I started a campaign for those issues.

      Interviewer: Are there things you remember during the 1990s?

      JM: I still remember, there was a Comrade Mbotho, from Pondoland, who passed on, from Pondoland. He was very strong. He was like a chairman of NUM at Van Dyk’s Drift. He was a very strong Mpondo man. I remember he organised a big boycott of using those horse-trailer buses, for transporting you from hostel to shaft. How can I explain this? You have the head of the truck which has a link and it pulls like a bus, but semi bus. You cannot see where you are going, you are just inside, like you are transporting horses, race horses. He [the manager] changed the buses to give proper buses to the workers.

      Interviewer: Later on you were expelled from NUM, so at some stage you must have joined?

      JM: Yes. The workers were aware that there is this young man working in the mine and they said: ‘You have to be part of NUM in order [to fight for] all the issues that are affecting workers.’ Then I joined NUM, and the management didn’t like the manner in which things were raised, and I was transferred... When they saw that I was attending most of the meetings [and] becoming more influential to the workers, they sent me to one of the stores. It’s called Redundant Store, where all items that are no longer in use will be parked there. It was like a Robben Island of some sort. You cannot be among the workers; you cannot attend meetings. To attend meetings I had to travel more than 20 kilometres, [and] when you get there the meeting is finished. But nevertheless being part of the NUM, I was elected as a shaft steward. Then I represented workers. I still remember when there was a fatal underground [accident], and the worker died in a very mysterious way, then we were called in. That was my first experience. They [the attorney for the company] wanted us to sign some documents, a prepared document. I said: ‘Why should we sign this document?’ They said: ‘No, it’s about the person [who] passed on [so that] we all cover ourselves.’ I said: ‘Why should we cover ourselves as shaft stewards, when we are not working in that area?’ So I defied. Most of the shaft stewards signed those documents.

      Interviewer: Were you a shaft steward just for your department, or on the mine itself? How were you organised as an NUM branch?

      JM: For the department, on the surface. You’ve got your branch executive and your shaft steward council. One branch covers one colliery.

      Interviewer: And then workers would take their grievance to this shaft steward?

      JM: Yes, to the shaft steward. And then shaft steward to the council, because we do have our ‘during-the-week meetings’, [collecting] all the grievances from different department[s]. Then we go to the mass meeting. We tell them what’s happening; then we formulate an agenda to meet with management.

      Interviewer: And these days is there complete separation between AMCU and NUM on each of the mines, or are there places where they come together, as shaft stewards perhaps?

      JM: We are completely separate. NUM will have their shaft steward council and AMCU will have its own. And the only [place] where we meet together, it’s where we are dealing with issues like health and safety, employment equity and all those forums, because those are the legislated forums, which don’t define a union. But where we are the majority, so AMCU will run the show; in as much [as] NUM is the majority, then they will run the show.

      Interviewer: Let’s go back to your NUM days.