Preview Africa Will Always Break Your Heart

Africa Will Always Break Your Heart by

Gert Hugo Just Done Productions Publishing Durban 2007

ISBN-10 ISBN-13

1-920169-32-6 978-920169-32-9

© Gert Cornelius Hugo 2007 First edition, first printing 2007 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be performed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission. Automatic permission is given in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Text © 2007 by Gert Cornelius Hugo Typography by John Dovey Cover Photo: Markku Vesikko © 2006 Cover design by Roger Set in 12pt Century Schoolbook Published by Just Done Productions www.justdone.co.za Cluster Box 2131 Everton 3625

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“The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who in times of great moral crisis maintain their neutrality.” Dante Alighieri

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In memory of my Mother, a remarkable and beautiful woman who lived life on her own terms and took her pleasures where she found them. Her passing has left an eternal emptiness in my soul.

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This book is dedicated to the following people:

To Sune and Lisbeth, my parents-in-law. By embracing me into their family they have taught me gentleness and consideration for others. They are truly genuine, honest and tender souls. To my wife, my ‘Liewe Heksie’, together with whom all things in life seem possible. To Charlene and Francois. No parent could ever hope for better children.

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Acknowledgements I am grateful to a vast group of friends who embarked on this journey together with me. They have sat through countless hours of reading snippets I posted on the web and I really value their opinions and support. Thank you for allowing me to bore you to tears. Specific mention should be made of Stumpy who made the publication a reality. You are very dear to us. To Elma Pollard for her guidance and advice. To Kippies who undertook to market the book. To Maxwell, Charlie Denny, Studabaker, Yogi, Indie, Happy Chap and Snowflake — your input is valued and treasured. To Monchy — hang in there my friend. Your brave outlook on life is a lesson to us all. We will still go fishing. To Slugsquat, Reesjim and a special thanks to Roger who came up with the design for the cover. Liam. Thank you for the line. The “great” does apply. You are all truly great friends and I can ask for no better. Thank You. To Stef, Ilse, Arusha and Bodhi. Your hospitality and friendship once again ignited the flickering flame in my soul. Thank you so much for your kindness. To Braam Botha. My friend and a much talented artist. Start to believe in yourself as we all do. You are worth more than your weight in gold. Thanks to Peter Stiff, a great author and good friend, who allowed me to use material already published in ‘Warfare by Other Means’ the second vi

of his books in a trilogy about South African Special Forces. Last but not least my thank goes to the makers of good South African red wine. Without it the telling of this tale would have been a dreary affair.

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About the Author Gerrie Hugo was born and grew up in South Africa during the years of Apartheid. He fought for this cause and turned against it when he came to his senses. He is still alive, much to the chagrin, disgust and astonishment of his enemies, and now happily resides in Stockholm with his wife and children. He is of the firm belief that most people overrate their own importance and consequently refuses to take himself too serious. He loves his family, cooking, music, chatting to friends in cyberspace and sending pot-plants to the great nursery in the sky. They do not want to grow for him and he thinks it has something to do with not watering them. He’s particularly fond of Swedish summer fashions and is open to anyone suggesting to him that there are better to be found somewhere else in the world. He would emigrate there in a flash. His pet hates are: politicians, religious freaks, psycho-analysts, snobs and little know-it-alls. He believes that the aforesaid and their kind should be shot on sight or at least ignored as it would make for a better society and planet as a whole. His opinions on Bush will remain untold. viii

He does have his serious moments and they all relate to Africa. A continent he loves deeply and hopes will astound him by healing itself one day. He unfortunately believes that the chances of him falling pregnant are slightly better than this happening in the short term. He definitely believes in luck as he has no other explanation for the fact that he’s still alive as well as the success and well-being of his enemies. Africa will Always break your heart is his first book.

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Preface In Africa lies my beginning. It will also be my end. This is my confession and apology. Read it and be horrified, but read it with an open mind — ask yourself this; would you have turned out any differently and acted in any other way than I did, given the same set of circumstances? Narrated in my second language the vernacular serves to illustrate how Afrikaners expressed themselves in English. I use the terminology as we did at the time. Black people are referred to as ‘kaffers’ and coloured people as ‘hotnots’. This does not reflect my attitude today. It is how we thought and spoke in the old South Africa. Crude expressions also reflect my mindset of the past and are not part of my current language, God forbid. My wife would kill me. If any offence is taken kindly take the time to read this book from cover to cover before passing judgement. I believe that the truth should be told. And I apologise for our way of talking, acting and living during this time. Prior to meeting my present wife I have never shared the full extent of my background with any of the persons that established a relationship with me. Getting involved with me does not reflect any bad judgement on their behalf. It was solely due to the fact that I was selective with the truth. In this case ‘guilt by association’ does not apply and I do apologise to the ones who feel that I have smeared their names and reputations in the process. In relating this story I have destroyed the chance of any form of reconciliation with some members of x

the family that I grew up in and together with. To them the truth should have been remained buried. I do not share this opinion and my reasons are clearly spelled out in the chapter ‘Fifty not out and that’s only the first innings.’ One cannot tell the truth and then have some people claiming that it’s not the whole truth. I will not do that. This story is my truth. The hardest part of this journey was bouncing off my efforts at writing with certain members of my family. They do not acknowledge or recognise themselves the way I experienced them. But this is the truth as I perceived it, experienced it and remember it.1 Dialogues have not been artificially re-created but written the way I remember them or remember them being related to me. In some cases the names or initials have been changed to protect the identity of the innocent. It has been said that all fiction is based on fact. It is thus conversely easy to assume that all fact will be tainted with fiction. With that in mind I am hesitant to call my story an autobiography. It is just my story. Let the reader decide. I ask for no more.

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I do not feel that I have suffered as a child. I believe my parents did their best for us. I do not blame the generation of before and take full responsibility for my actions. I also do not see my family as dysfunctional. I just tell it the way it was.

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Contents Acknowledgements............................................ .............vi About the Author................................................ ...........viii Preface...................................................................... .......x Contents........................................................................ .xii Introduction.......................................... .........................13

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F

Introduction

ifteen years ago I took the death-defying decision to speak out about what I believed to be wrong. As a serving Senior Officer in the military I did an about face and began exposing atrocities committed by the military in the name of Apartheid. It was the year 1991 and three years before the African National Congress (ANC) won the first democratic elections ever to be held in South Africa. Personally my timing could not have been worse to take to the public platform. The old guard was still in power and with them the hardcore militants. I exposed these militants and very soon learnt that a price was put on my head in retaliation, as a warning to others and of course, to shut me up. The individuals I exposed were ruthless ‘securocrats’ that were known to commit murder in the name of their cause. I took the threat on my life very seriously and lived on the run until a few years after the elections. I worked with journalists and continued to expose atrocities. At one stage I became part of a witness protection program. They did not know what I had in store for them. A documentary called ‘Gerrie and Louise’ was made about our lives, a film that won an Emmy Award in 1997. I lost my pension as well as a promising career and now live in Sweden — a very long way from my roots. Journalists once asked me, off the record, why I, as an intelligent human being, fell for the lies of Apartheid. I was stunned for an answer. I tried to 13

make light of it by saying that it was fashionable at the time. I got quoted but out of context — a nasty habit practiced by many a journalist. My dislike for some journalists were not unfounded, something that will become quite apparent. But this question has nagged me ever since as there is no simple answer. Parts of the decision to write this book sprung from that very question. Why were intelligent, civilised people so keen to follow the politicians and in my case do the dirty work of the powers that designed and implemented one of the biggest crimes against humanity in modern history? This is a story about my life and my middle-class Afrikaans speaking family. What it was like for me to grow up in and live the Apartheid Dream. It will try to convey how ordinary white people got caught up in a political nightmare and how they became as much victims of a sick system as the black people in South Africa who suffered immense hardship under this rule. It covers a period of fifty years and is a no holds barred account of my life and that of my family. How our innocence got moulded into hate. It will shock and many people will not agree with the views expressed. A lot of individuals living or dead will be insulted to their core. It is not a story about good table manners. Another reason for writing my blunt version is because none of my former comrades-in-arms, who also fought for Apartheid, are willing to do so. Some of them have indeed already written their accounts. Their tales are mostly attempts to justify their actions and activities. And, in most cases they still believe that they were wronged in being exposed. 14

They will maintain that they were involved in a war and were only following orders. We were the executioners of a political doctrine that is classified as a crime against humanity. But in defending this system and arrogantly refusing to distance themselves from it they became criminals. As they never got prosecuted for their crimes it made them immune to the changes in South Africa. In refusing to change their views they cause racism to be alive and well in South Africa. There are still a lot of people out there that should count their blessings and be thankful that they never got prosecuted to the full letter of the law. As they count their fat pension-funds they should be grateful to us that sacrificed ours to expose them. Had we left it a bit later they might have all been dead in retaliation of the ‘Black Peril’ that we oppressed with a vengeance. I am proud that I took to the public platform and exposed the atrocities that I knew about. And as for you who kept quiet because your generals told you to, consider yourselves as unfinished business.

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