Jacob Dlamini's Askari: A Stody of Collaboration and Betrayal in the Anti-Apartheid Struggle (Jacana 2014) is a deeply moving account of Askaris, the name given to traitors in the anti-apartheid struggle. Through the theme of betrayal, the book presents a moving but disturbing account of the last decade of bloody conflict between the apartheid state and a rising and popular anti-apartheid movement. The book offer much more than an account of historical events.
Dlamini's narrative is woven around the place of loyalty and betrayal within armed groups that fought to shape the future of the country. Focusing on the story of Glory Sedibe and others, Dlamini returns repeatedly to what betrayal means to collaborators and their handlers. The collaborators in this book are victims, but never lose their agency. Some collaborators are pushed to the brink through days, weeks and even months of physical and psychological torture, others break down at the first sign of pain. Sedibe's story is shrouded by lies and half-truths, which makes it a particularly interesting account of victimhood and agency.
Reading this book reminds me that trust and betrayal stand at the heart of a society. Dlamini's book teases and pushes the implications of this fundamental ethic in the lives of the Askaris, and in society in general. For the Askaris, betrayal means the end of a meaningful life. Dlamini book portrays the inevitable descent into further betrayal, violence and alcoholism.
But the book challenged me to think about the trust and betrayal as the ground on which any collective stand. No two persons can enter a relationship without trust or the prospect of trust. When trust is rejected as a result of extreme individualism, racial bigotry or repeated broken promises, one inevitably looks into an abyss. Perhaps the Askaris symbolise the broken trust that haunts our societies.
No doubt, Dlamini gives an account of those who refused to collaborate. Inevitably, they lives were cut short by a network of apartheid death squads that continue to roam our streets. But their lives should not be forgotten, for their bravery but also for their refusal to betray trust.
Sadly, according to Dlamini, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission failed to bring out the truth and workings of collaboration and their handlers. People like de Kock and Nofomela only revealed half-truths, sufficient to hastily thread a new narrative of a rainbow nation focused on the future.
Dlamini's narrative is woven around the place of loyalty and betrayal within armed groups that fought to shape the future of the country. Focusing on the story of Glory Sedibe and others, Dlamini returns repeatedly to what betrayal means to collaborators and their handlers. The collaborators in this book are victims, but never lose their agency. Some collaborators are pushed to the brink through days, weeks and even months of physical and psychological torture, others break down at the first sign of pain. Sedibe's story is shrouded by lies and half-truths, which makes it a particularly interesting account of victimhood and agency.
Reading this book reminds me that trust and betrayal stand at the heart of a society. Dlamini's book teases and pushes the implications of this fundamental ethic in the lives of the Askaris, and in society in general. For the Askaris, betrayal means the end of a meaningful life. Dlamini book portrays the inevitable descent into further betrayal, violence and alcoholism.
But the book challenged me to think about the trust and betrayal as the ground on which any collective stand. No two persons can enter a relationship without trust or the prospect of trust. When trust is rejected as a result of extreme individualism, racial bigotry or repeated broken promises, one inevitably looks into an abyss. Perhaps the Askaris symbolise the broken trust that haunts our societies.
No doubt, Dlamini gives an account of those who refused to collaborate. Inevitably, they lives were cut short by a network of apartheid death squads that continue to roam our streets. But their lives should not be forgotten, for their bravery but also for their refusal to betray trust.
Sadly, according to Dlamini, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission failed to bring out the truth and workings of collaboration and their handlers. People like de Kock and Nofomela only revealed half-truths, sufficient to hastily thread a new narrative of a rainbow nation focused on the future.
