His brother, who was hoping for a better salary, was shot by the police in Marikana, in the worst massacre in South Africa since the end of apartheid: ten years later, Nolufefe Noki is still awaiting an explanation.
Nicknamed “the man with the green blanket”, which he wore wrapped around his shoulders, Mgcineni “Mambush” Noki, 30 at the time, had become a figure in the protest of thousands of miners. He enthusiastically encouraged, his fist raised, his fellow strikers.
Until August 16, 2012. “We don’t know what happened,” says her sister, a slender 42-year-old woman with a raspy voice, in her house in Mqanduli, in the east of the country.
She just knows that the police came and “many were killed.”
Thirty-four, to be exact. And 78 wounded, in a chaos of dust and tear gas. A drama that has deeply marked the young South African democracy.
Since then, a handful of police officers have appeared but none have been convicted, according to the prosecution. Half of the compensation claims filed have been settled, Attorney General Fhedzisani Pandelani said on Wednesday, deeming it “regrettable” that these procedures have taken so long.
An official inquiry has questioned ‘police tactics’ that day, recommending prosecution several years ago against those responsible for the bloodbath near the platinum mine, more than an hour’s drive away. northwest of Johannesburg.
Abandoned tomb
For the survivors and the families of the victims, the memory of the events is intact.
“I don’t want to talk about any more of this. I still have so much trouble”, breathes Nolufefe Noki, boots on his feet, in the small vegetable garden behind his traditional round house.
Much of the mining workforce comes from remote areas like this. The women stay in the country with the children, the men hire more than a thousand kilometers away.
Mambush sent the equivalent of 150 euros per month to his family. In 2012, he returned to the country in a coffin.
“I was told that I couldn’t see the body, that it was too damaged,” said her sister, looking lost. His tomb, in the middle of the hills, is covered with weeds. No one has the heart to maintain it.
Mzoxolo Magidiwana, a striking miner, escaped with nine gunshot wounds and a pay rise following the massacre. Today he lives in a workers’ hostel near the hill where the police fired.
“The government doesn’t care about us,” said the burly 34-year-old. “It’s been ten years now, our lives should have gotten better. On the contrary, everything got worse”.
– Mourning impossible –
Even before the massacre, ten people had died in clashes on the sidelines of the strike.
Aisha Fundi’s husband, Hassan, a security guard, was killed by strikers. As part of the repairs, she was offered a job at the mine, which she considers very inadequate.
“Me and my children want justice,” says this 49-year-old mother of two boys, who would at least like to know who killed her husband.
His fear is that his assassins are still working in the mine. She may meet them without knowing it.
Victims and families are stuck in their mourning. “There has been no justice,” says sociologist Trevor Ngwane, and the “Marikana” region remains traumatised.
We are still facing “an open grave”, political commentator Onkgopotse Tabane said this week during an event organized by the AMCU, the country’s main mining union.