By Xola Skosana
From those who have traversed across the country and those who have come from distant lands, welcome to the Black space, the liberated zone we call the Kilombo.
To those who are at the cold face of white arrogance in the Cape Colony, those who endure second or third class citizenship and called refugees from time to time, welcome to this silent hour of mourning.
Many others who wished and desired to be with us at this historic moment of the commemoration of June 16 1976, the 40th Anniversary, your spirits can be felt all over this auditorium.
We gather in these silent hours of the morning of June 17 2016 when the noise of jubilation has subsided. A few hours ago black bodies filled stadiums and twerked in memory of the dead. They have finally and given in to exhaustion, after a long day of alcohol consumption and political party revelry.
For a few hours they were numbed to the fact that they are conquered and landless and that colonial languages are still used as mediums of instruction in South Africa.
Now that the songs of festivity have finally subsided, we can begin to hear in the distance and in different homes and different villages the bitter cries of mothers whose children, riddled with bullets, laid dead in state motuaries.
It’s in these silent hours that the screams of children whose brothers and sisters did not come home, pierced the African skys until they couldn’t cry anymore.
Little did they know that whites were baying for blood, that more than 900 more black bodies within a few weeks would be sacrificed at the altar of white supremacy and the preservation of white privilege.
It is the violent death of the class of 1976 that entrenched the permanent mis-education of the Black child.
Today at UCT and UJ, at UWC and KZN University, at Stellenbosch and Rhodes University, at NMMU and Wits, the modem slave is kept compliant and obedient through the rules of civility and by notions of peace and prosperity drummed up in his ears by teachers and preachers of our time.
The colonial languages for which the class of 76 died to obliterate, still rule supremely. Let the silence of the night in this night vigil bring you to this stark reality, Blacks have nothing to celebrate for the deaths of 1976.
Go back to the drawing board, the enemy is alive and kicking, and it plays on both sides of the political game. Like a chameleon it changes it’s colors and lures the ideologically gullible into its ranks.
It is more fearcer and dangerous yet more subtle and modest than ever before.
Just in case you have forgotten, the enemy is white supremacy and the preservation of white privilege in all its disguises. It is made concrete in every white body including the one you sit next to at church or in the lecture.
Welcome to Way of Life Kilombo, a village for the run-away slaves. But don’t run forever, go back and make the master pay for all his sins and the sins of his father and the sins of his great great father.
Let the class of 2016 take from where the class of 76 left off. Do not be dissuaded and discouraged by deregistrations, suspensions and expulsions. Take this battle to all spaces of privilege.
Make your aoth, draw the lines of dermacation this day and take the struggle for total emancipation from white power to its logical conclusion.
Take back the Land and Free the People!
Peace to the Africans! War to the Enemy!