Sizwe was two years older than Nomsa. He and Sandile went to school in the township. During the day they had been involved in a demonstration, together with children from other primary and secondary schools in the township. They marched through the streets, singing old liberation songs and others they had composed themselves, to protest against the enforcement of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in certain subjects throughout African schools. The students planned to converge at the township’s largest soccer stadium to voice their opposition to the scheme.

The police met them in the streets, before they could reach the stadium, and asked them through loudspeakers to disperse. They told the students that in terms of the Riotous Assemblies Act, which the children had never heard about, they were breaking the law by staging a protest march without obtaining permission from the police first.

‘You are here. Give us your permission then,’ someone in the crowd shouted. And the chant caught on, ‘Give us your permission then.’

‘Legalise dagga!’ someone else shouted. There was loud laughter but no one took up the shout.

The police then used teargas to try and disperse the students. Far from scattering about in a disorganised fashion, the students soon developed a technique for containing the teargas. Armed with cloths and buckets of water requisitioned from nearby houses, they covered their canisters with wet cloths as soon as they hit the ground.

In this way many of the canisters were prevented from exploding. Thus, unable to break the march the police resorted to shooting. At first they aimed above the heads of the crowd, but as the students surged forward resolutely they fired at their front ranks. Some students retaliated by throwing stones at the police. In the ensuing scuffle a few people were injured, including some police and onlookers, and several children were shot dead.

Incensed by the police action the students ran riot.

‘Amandla! Power!’ they shouted, with clenched fists raised in the air.

‘We’ll burn down all their buildings … Away with the abominable System!’

Working in groups which struck their targets almost simultaneously, the students acted too fast for the police who had come out in large numbers, leaving the police station virtually deserted. While the police were engaged in trying to contain the disturbances which flared up at various strategic points in the township, a group of specially deployed students caught an unsuspecting skeleton staff at the police station itself and set the buildings on fire. Elsewhere, they burnt down the municipality offices and other buildings associated with the township’s administration board, like the post offices, beer halls and the fire department. Some schools and libraries were also burnt down.

There were many whites whose daily business brought them to the township. These included employees of the board, commercial travellers and people working for voluntary agencies which operated in the township. Many delivery vans bearing the names of white companies were stopped in the streets, overturned and set on fire. Buses received the same treatment. In many cases their black drivers and conductors scuttled into houses; then retired to their homes or their favourite shebeens to drink the bus company’s earnings. Some whites caught in this were killed, among them a doctor who ran a voluntary medical scheme for children in the township. His body was found in a rubbish bin. Another superintendent in one of the administration board’s offices who was watching the battle between the police and the students unaware of any reason why anyone should wish to harm, was also killed.

A dangerous spirit, such as Sipho and Johannes Venter experienced in driving through the township, still gripped the streets.

‘Sing then,’ Sipho said to his children.

‘Just a moment, please, l’m coming,’ Daphne shouted.

‘Start it, Sizwe,’ Nomsa said.

‘Sing!’ Sipho said.

Sizwe and Sandile started simultaneously, on different keys.

Nomsa joined in, adding to the discord:

Mhla sibuyayo! Mhla sibuyayo!

Mhla sibuyayo! Mhla sibuyayo!

Kuzokhal’ uVorster,

Kubaleke uKruger …

‘No, no, no, not that one!’ Sipho said.

The children fell silent.

‘Come on, sing!’ Sipho said.

‘Siculeni manje?’ Nomsa asked.

‘Just sing, anything. Now go’:

‘Rock of ages cleft for me,

Let me hide…’

‘Asiyazi leyo,’ Nomsa said.

‘Okay, if you don’t know that one, sing something you know then,’ Sipho said.

Sizwe suggested they should sing ‘Amabhunu ayizinja’.

‘Not that one either, not that one. Can’t you sing anything without dragging in Boers? Okay, just go on talking then. Louder … Louder, I say!’

The knocking continued.

‘I’m coming,’ Daphne said.

‘It’s okay, Mr. Venter,’ Sipho said. ‘Just follow me and do as I say. This side, please.’