Autobiography of Robert Kadailie
[Some time in late June or early July 1909] I decided that the only thing to do now is to go to Rhodesia.
All this time my friend was with me. 8 of us all Tonga fellows we left Blantyre for the Rhodesia via Tete.
We walk[ed] the whole day, about 6 O’Clock we arrived at Chikwawa. There at Chikwawa there is a river we must cross and we have to cross at [the] Boma (police camp).
The police refused that we cross the river, asking us if we can produce permit[s] or passes for Rhodesia. This we failed to produce, and we were ordered to return to Blantyre.
We had what is called a conference of what we must do, to go back to cross the river. But how we are going to cross it[?]
We went to a village, lower or down [the river, and] we asked the police [for permission] to sleep, this was given to us.
The police knew that there is no other place for us to cross except by the bridge which was by the camp.
Next morning we asked the native[s] to help us with their canoe. They also refused fearing that if the police heard that they let us cross in their canoe or boat they will be arrested.
This river which is know[n] as [the] Shire River is infested with croc[s]. Many natives in this place are being killed by the croc[s].
We asked one another what must we do, to go back to Blantyre or to go on to Rhodesia[?] We must go.
Here you must observe that in Nyasaland there is no tribe braver than [the] Tonga tribe. Even the Government of that country depend most[ly] on [the] Tonga tribe.
There is no office in Nyasaland without a Mtonga man there, kapetao[s] in every sphere of work in Nyasaland.
So in that morning we decided to cross the river croc[s] be damned. Our people are praying for us at home.
We took off our clothes, to swim the river together, and believe me we cross the river without any of us killed or caught by Mr Crocodile.
[On the] other side we sing Chitonga hymn[s]. The native[s] of that place could not believe they ask how did you cross the river[?] [There are] so many crocs.
Then we start to walk. It was July month and the month of July is a very hot month. [We follow] the river and stream all day, [and] from the river there to the next village we have to walk the whole day. We were so thirsty that most of us could not walk.
6 O’Clock we reach the next village. There the people wish us kindly and gave us the place to sleep. On the 10th we left this village.
When [it was] about 12 O’Clock some fellows in the company start to drink some UCHEMA. This is the water the native[s] of that country drink. It comes out of a bark of a tree fall[s] in a cup then [you] drink it. Within 10 minutes a man is [so] drunk that he can hardly walk, even Scotch Whisky is not so strong as this water. (7) 5 out of 7 get drunk. They slept the whole of that afternoon.
About 5 O’Clock we start to walk to [the] next village, arriving there [at] 7 pm. To my surprise at this village I find a wife of a man of our village at home. She welcome[s] us so nicely that we stayed two days at this place, and from here to PEA border is only 6 miles.
The morning of 13th we left this place going toward Tete, the capital of PEA. At about 12 O’Clock we arrive at the border, and about 5 O’Clock we came to a big village.
Here we met 4 white men. These white men were recruiting African[s] for certain mines in S. Rhodesia. ([They] had also 4 African women as their wives.) They asked us if we can speak English.
Out of 7 of us, only two could speak and understand English and they chose us two, myself and a fellow Jacob from Chituka Village, him as a cook, myself as a recruiting agent. I went again to Blantyre.
There I got [a] lot of Ngoni. When I came with them to Chikwawa, I could not cross the river with them. The Police refused. I met these policemen at Blantyre. I explain[ed] the position to them, they told me that the Govt. of Nyasaland won’t want them to pay £40 (forty) to enable them to recruit the people. This they couldn’t pay.
I have to return again to the PEA with about a dozen men of my tribe whom I smuggled through the Nyasaland border to PEA. From there they were sent to a certain mine in S. Rhodesia. I doubt if they ever went to that mine. We asked our employer to pay us the wages due to us. This they couldn’t pay, and we found out that they got no money. That day we decided to leave them and ran away.
This we did on the night of August 15th 1909. We left there without no provision[s]. We slept on [arrival at the] next village. We left next morning about 5 am. We walk[ed] the whole day [with] no food, going to Tete. 6 O’Clock we stop on a village. There we slept. Following day we again walk the whole day. 4.30 pm we arrived at Tete.
We cross Zambezi River to the other side where the town is situated, where I hope to meet a kinsman of mine, one Wilson Kayitandane. That was the 17th of August. There I remain, looking for work.
Mr Kayitandane ask[s] me to proceed to a place higher up the Zambezi river, about two days journey, to work there as a storekeeper of the Mandala Store (ALC). I could not accept the position because I was very young to go and work among the people I does [not] know of.
As rumour has it, the people there, some of them were savage [and] believe[d] too much in witchcraft. Then I met some of the fellows who come with us from Blantyre and left us with those four Europeans.
This fellow has signed with Mr Skinner the recruiter for the Transvaal mines. [see note] We also join the this contract of a years service. We had a big fight at Tete with Wangona from Mtengula.
[note: SANA GNLB 220 274/15 Tax: British Central African Natives (1915-1920) “We were all recruited by Mr Skinner [also comes up in Robert Kadalie’s autobiography] for work on the Witwatersrand. We came in contact with him near Blantyre as we were on our way to Rhodesia in search of work. From Blantyre he took us to Shiromo, and then on to Chindi where he handed us over to another European. From Chindi we proceeded by boat to Delgoa Bay. Immediatley on our arrival at Delgoa Bay we were entrained for Forodela where we were asked to hand over our BNP passes. We refused to hand them over. We were approached twice for our passes with the same result. Portuguese passes were then handed to us which we accepted not knowing what they were as we had never been in Portuguese territory previously. The reason we did not hand over our BNP travelling passes was because Mr Skinner had warned us explicitly not to do so. We arrived in Johannesburg six years ago and have had the sum of £1 deducted from our wage six times…We look to the British Government to request the Portuguese authorities to refund us these amounts.’ 19/05/1915. [go back to BS Krishnamurthy, ‘Land and Labour in Nyasaland, 1891-1914’, PhD thesis, University of London, 1964.]
After stay[ing] in the barrack[s] of three weeks, we left in a river steamer for Chinde. Arriving at Chinde after 4 or 5 days, there we left again for Beira, where we were transferred to a big steamer known as Africa Listen. After a day and [a] half we reached Delagoa bay, from there we were put on a train. It was my first time to ride in the train.
We came off at Fortes. There we stayed a week and [a] half. We entrain for Johannesburg. I was selected [from] among 500 to contract on as a[n] office boy. After a stay in WNLA we were sent to various mines. I was sent to a certain mine there to work in [the] time office. I only work[ed] there a month.
One morning, when I came to work, as I slept to [at?] my uncle[’s] that morning, a mine police got hold of me when entering at the gate. When asking the reason he march[ed] me to the mine shaft. I dressed in tip-top treat that morning. There to my surprise I was told that I am going to work down below, no office office work for me, what with all my nice clothes.
I bolted, in those days I could run, and dance like a Kalule. Nearly 40 people, Europeans, mine boys, police [pursued me]. I run toward the place where my uncle work[s]. Here there was some people run after me on [a] b[ic]ycle, the[y] caught me a mile from the shaft.
I was carried and thrown in the skip. Down I went. There I was give[n] to a Scotchman.
If you look at this miner you’ll thin[k] that he was one of those saint[s] which we read about in the Bible, among the son of Benjamin.
He was the bully of [the] mine, other white men fear him, even [the] shift-boss[es] when they came [in]to his sight or quarter[s], first they must look for him before they do anything otherwise there will be trouble.
To this man I was sent to work with. He asked me if I [had] ever handle[d a] drill hammer. I says, ‘no sir.’ ‘To hell with you don’t call me sir you must say boss. If I hear you call me sir again I’ll give sjamboks.’
Well I was given a hammer drill, and put me to a certain place to drill. I drilled until two O’Clock. I could never even drill a foot in that (sol[i]d) hard rock. Mind you in this ma[i]n (site), or sight as it is called in the mine, there were more than 40 workers from Nyasaland or (BCA) as it was in those days.
Knock off time the boss must come and examine the hole. If a man drilled say 3 ft he will be given a ticket marked loafer. From 4 to 6 ft you got your ticket, that means you got the 2/- which is mark[ed] in the ticket. When you get loafer that mean[s] that you have work[ed] all that day for nothing. So it goes in the mine[s].
When my boss came to examine the hole[s], I must be there as an interpreter because none of these men from Nyasaland could speak English, even Zulu language.
Well to tell the truth, at Tete none of us gave Mr Skinner our own names. Mine was Isaac for that matter. My father was Makuzi.
‘Isaac,’ called my boss. ‘Yes boss.’ ‘Come here, ask this fellow why he only drilled only 3 ft.’ ‘Well boss he says that he can’t drill more than that. The rock is very hard for him.’ ‘Tell him to go to HELL and tell him him I am going to give sjamboks if [this] goes on’,
10, 5 so on. He had a terrible sjambok if he hit a man himself. It is terrible unless otherwise his boss boy heat you or sjambok you.
Now he comes to my own side, [and] put[s] his ruling stick in the hole. ‘Great Scott,’ he will exclaim, ‘what this not even a foot for [the] whole [of] this day.’ Trying to explain to him and beg him without success [a] sjambok given by Jim his boss boy. It went on day after day until one day the stone hit me between the line in my back.
I was sent to hospital and those boys who were working in that sight, all got [a] kicking for letting a stone escape from their working place. I stayed in hospital only one week. The wound was not healed, yet when I was sent back in the mine needed you, there [was] no interpreter.
I went back alas I could do nothing, yet I was forced to work. I can’t refuse because I am just like a slave. This mine paid so much for me to Mr Skinner far away in PEA, the fellow eating my sweat.
I decided to bolt. It is no use. So young to work in the mine hard even Sunday I work like that. I made preparation.
There were plenty [of my] countrymen somewhere in a town known as Maraisburg. One Saturday I wear three shirts, [a] coat and trousers, the rest I smuggle in the gate like [I] am going to the shop. I took [a] train.
I was received by my people and on Monday I start work in the mine as a ticket collector. Before that month was finish[ed], Nov[ember] 1909, someone wrote or went to the Company Manager and told him where I was. The result, [on] Sunday coming to the compound a native police from that mine was waiting for me at the gate.
He brought a letter from the Compound Manager of that mine where I ran away from. My present CM told him if, as they said, that the said Isaac is working in this mine wait at the gate and you’ll see him when he comes in from underground. So he waited for me. I was nearly caught.
Thank [my] luck[y] star[s] I had one of my countrymen [who] pull[ed] me away just in front of this police boy. Murmuring in my own lingo, ‘don’t you see that police[man] from your ex mine[?]’ So I run to the married quarter until 8 O’Clock. This fellow is gone.
After that the CM ask[s] him, ‘well did you see Isaac[?] No[?] Well tell your boss that this man is not working here in this mine.' I laugh to my own name.
Well, this informer wrote again to that Compound Manager, [telling him] that although his police boy failed to find me, I am there for certain. He even suggested to this CM to send the police early on Sunday and search the rooms of the Blantyre[s], as we were known.
This they did the second month. My luck[y] star was again with me. That Saturday I took [a] special pass to Joburg, [and] luck[il]y I left Saturday. Early Sunday morning the[y] search[ed] all our rooms. ‘No Isaac.’
The[y] arrested Akimaleck, he [had] run away from [the] Pass Office the Nyasa police boy knew him, from Tete, so he was taken, instead of me. The Compound Manager was not please[d]. ‘I want Isaac. Dead or alive bring him to me.’
When I return[ed] from Joburg my people told me about the raid, and they warn[ed] me that one day my lucky star may desert me. The best way is that I should leave the mine since I was not under contract. I agree.
Before I went, this is what happened. Akimaleck wanted to gain his freedom, [and] told [the] CM that although I was not arrested that I was not present that Sunday. If [t]he Compound Manager gave[/permitted] it police (mine), he will go with them, to that mine, he is going to lead them down to the Jew Store known as [the] Kaffir Eating Houses.
He will go to the Compound and intice me to come with him to the store. There the police will arrest me. This suggestion pleases the CM.
On a certain day in December/January 1910, he came with four police boys. He left them as arranged, came to the compound [and] explain[ed] to us his mission. Dozen[s] of our people, including Akimaleck himself, armed [themselves] with sticks. He in front went to the police telling them that they must go to the group, I am among them. They advance. This they shall never forget to their dying days.
My people gave them such a good thrashing that each one went back with two or three holes in his head and blood running in their uniform. The[y] run towards Maraisburg township where they must catch [a] train to Germiston. The[y] went even without Akimaleck. He also was never caught. After that I left the mine.
I stayed with my cousin in Nancefield Location. Feb March no work. April I got [a] job as a house boy, washing, waiter etc. 7 Gentlemen with only a house keeper. I was there three weeks. The work was too much for me, [e]specially [the] washing [and] waiting at the table.
If the housekeeper don’t come to examine the table, the spoon will be in place of knife, and when I bring food I put the plate any side suits me. For that reason I was paid off within three weeks. May + June no work.
July I start work on Modder B Mine as [a] distributor of ration[s] in the compound under Mr Snell, Assistant Compound Manager. He was a good gentleman, only the Compound Manager was a bad fellow. We were three Nyasaland chaps in the compound. We had dear Edward from Blantyre, Tom from Usiska and myself.
I worked there [for] three month[s], when King Edward died I was there just before that big star.
One day or one afternoon, I distribute[d] bread, meat, vegetable[s and] fish from[/for] various body including hospital [staff, and] the head clerk, he must get [a] 5 penny or two pence loaf of bread, every afternoon.
I went to take this bread to his house, down to the location. This fellow has a wife. On my way down I met the Compound Manager. He stopped me and at [the] same time asked me where I am going with bread. I told him to Edward[’s] house.
‘Oh I see,’ he went [on] his way, myself to Edward[’s] house. About 10 O’Clock [the] next morning the messenger came to say that I was wanted by the Compound Manager. On entering his office I saw a mountain[/mounted] police[man], his horse one of the boys got him by the bridle outside.
My boss, also Mr Snell, was there to my surprise. I hear the police man say, ‘Is this the boy who stole bread[?]’ This police man although police who care[s] two pence for an African, asked my name and where I came from, and how I stole bread. ‘Where was I taking the bread[?]’ I explain to him everything. Edward was called as a witness.
That lucky star of mine again came to my rescue. For [the] first time in my life, I say, a police man acted as a magistrate, when I finish [he] was [rational?] this what he says.
Mr [Curness?] that was the compound manager’s name. ‘I am afraid,’ said the man of [the] law, ‘I cannot arrest this boy for this offence. He may get four month[s] for nothing. It is better for you to pay him off, [and] also give [him] his pass.' He rose from his chair [getting] on his horse back off he went.
Outside the office there were more than 100 mine boys. When they saw me, believe me, the CM felt so small, the whole crowd shout ‘Hurrah.’ I was very nice to every one in the compound as far as food was concerned because everything was in my hand (eatable).
Tom my friend, hearing that I am leaving, he also tender[ed] his resignation. He was paid off. Away we went to [the] Pass Office. My boss Mr Snell was very sorry for me. A month after this incident I went to Witbank with one of Chituka man, Arthur Chimbaza. [see note]
[note: In 1919, Anderson Chimbaza was a founder of the Nyasaland Native National Congress (NNNC) in Johannesburg. This is possibly the same man, or a relative.]
We went to X mine, [a] coal mine, where one of my kinsmen was both head clerk and head man combine[d]. His name Tamali Kalala of [the] same village as myself. This fellow was my mother[’s] play mate when they were children and he left me home when I was 10 years of age. He was very pleased to see me and welcome[d] me as one of his kinsmen.
We stayed there two days and he gave us nice work after with him in [the] office. Myself, he gave me a job to watch the mine boys where they came out to see that their ticket is signed by the boss.
Otherwise I must send them back, those [who] their ticket is not signed. I work nearly two weeks at this mine. Here I must explain the boys when they go down they go by the skip and when they come by this pit.
A house was built named this pit, here I must wait and examine the boys’ ticket[s]. Now at that time [the] Transvaal was very cold, and a [gilly?] is lighted in this small house and the house became very hot indeed. This were the cause of my getting [the] sack by my kinsman.
You will hear this [gilly] made me so sleepy the result was that the boy[s] sung me [to] sleep so they began to come out without their ticket signed. This went on for for a week, and the head clerk, [t]he said kinsman of mine, found out in the compound that many boys, their ticket is not signed.
He was surprised because he knew that there is no other place where the boys can come out. He asked me [and] I told him that I know no one to come by the pit without his ticket signed.
One afternoon, he came himself to the pit there. On entering the house he found me fast asleep. He didn’t wake me. [He] just sat there watching the boys. I don’t [know] how long I slept.
When I open[ed] my eyes I got [the] shock of my life to see the head [clerk] is there. Yes I thought. He exclaim[ed], ‘there is something fishy at the pit.’ He called one fellow from the compound and put him to watch at the pit I went with him to the compound. There he ordered me to pack my things and go that same day.
I protest[ed], ‘you my own kinsman, you cannot do such a thing to me.’ ‘Yes you are my kinsman, I welcomed you and gave you a nice job and that job you abused and this company is not family company. I must do my duty, therefore you [have] got to go today. I don’t want to see you here again.’
I cry like a child. He showed no pity. I was very sorry to leave because a certain Coloured lady was teaching me Afrikaner (Dutch language). I left.
I arrived at Witbank Station. I meet one Matthew, also from home, working with [the] Inspector of [the] Railways. Next day, I got a job with 7 Scottish railway carpenters to cook for them. I had no experience in cooking, [but] I know a bit of it, so I tackle the job.
[After] 2 weeks with them, one afternoon I went to the station to visit Matthew, when I reached the house I saw the gun pointed towards me by my friend[’s] boss. Then another gentleman stop[ped] him and got the gun from him. All this time I thought he was playing, when I was three yards from him he asked me where is my friend.
I told him that this is [the] third day since last I saw him here. "He took me inside the house. There were 4 beds in the three rooms of the house. Not a single sheet or blanket is kept in the house. Matthews has taken or stole[n] everything in the house," together with some of his boss’ personal belonging[s].
I knew Matthew [w]as a biggest thief among my people. No body knew where he went. So his boss warn[ed] me not to come near his house. That week finish[ed,] the second week it start[ed] to rain. It rain[ed] all that night. Next morning I went to my work to cook [but] the stove was full of water. I tried to light fire not with success until 7 O’Clock, the time these bosses of mine must eat.
They came to their tent where the[y] eat their food [and] they waited in [the] rain. No breakfast came, one of them came to [the] kitchen, found me still trying to light fire. I think the chap was very hungry. He asked me, ‘where is the breakfast[?]’ I pointed to the stove. And the next thing I saw was only the star[s], and I knew no more. The blow he gave me nearly killed me.
When I awake I was wet with water. The other gentleman, a Mr Reid, pulled me to revive me. And this gentleman was very kind to me. He spoke to me words of comfort like a father to his son. He went to his tent and came out with my pass and my wages, and tell me to go. ‘Before worse misfortune,’ he tell me. I pack.
Next day I got another job with the secretary of Witbank Colliery. A very good boss, only the madam was just like a cat. At this place I [was] suppose[d] to take over the place of a Zulu cook. But the Zulu did not leave. I left the place before he went. This is what happened.
My work was at that time to make juice early in the morning, put [on] porridge water and cook the said porridge. 7.30 I must give the cat its meal, [a] nice meal too. 8 O’Clock serve the Mr Boss breakfast. 8.30 breakfast for us boys, composed of meal[ie] meal porridge, nothing more, and the native girl and the cat eat [a] nice breakfast and dinner and supper.
Dinner was compose[d of] pap with meat. We eat meat only on Friday from the compound. I told the mistress that I don’t eat pap at home, I eat rice. ‘Well that is the food I gave to my boys, you can buy yourself rice.’ I keep quiet.
One morning after I finish two weeks the boss got ill, and he was very bad indeed. I really felt very sorry for him. Yet one morning when I came to [the] kitchen to make or light [a] fire, the blessed cat came, as was the case every morning. Just when he see[s] that you are in the kitchen lighting fire, he will come, ‘mew mew’, just to say, ‘where is my food cook[?]’
That morning I got very angry with [the] cat. My patience began to fade away. I cannot eat meat. [The] cat can eat nice meat, yet he has no soul and he got no name in heaven. I waited till the oven was very very hot, I open it and feel the heat. I called the cat, and take him [and] put him in the oven. I cannot describe here, but that cat has his fright. ‘Mew mew mew’ in the oven.
I heard the mistress, ‘what’s the matter with the cat Robert[?]’ When she was near the kitchen door I open the oven [and] out came the cat. Heaven he couldn’t see where the door was.
‘Robert what [is] the matter with [the] cat[?]’ ‘I don’t know madam, [the] cat [is] mad today.’ At last the cat find[s] the door, out went Mr Cat, and I never saw him again in the kitchen till I left the place.
I only work there 3 weeks, why I left this is what happened. The boss was now [a] little better. One morning the girl took the slop bucket, and the boss wanted to use it. The mistress came to me. I told her I don’t know where it is. I had not seen it oh that was enough.
The mistress swore at me and took the broom [to] hit me. [I] caught the broom and when she saw the broom in my hand she scream[ed] and ran towards her husband[’s] room. I came to the kitchen, she wanted to call the police. I don’t know whether her husband stopped her.
Shortly after this incident I saw the girl with [I can’t read this word] or slop bucket. I took the girl by the throat and gave her [a] good hiding, because I said to her she committed the sin and I got a broom nearly on my head. The scream, the mistress never came to her rescue, and I got hold of her by the arm [and] dragg[ed] her to her mistress.
‘Robert what [is] the matter with you and the girl[?]’ I said to her, ‘no use for you madam to ask, I told [you] she got the bucket and [you] hit me with the broom.’ ‘Alright Robert please leave her.’ So I left her.
She like the cat never came across my way till the day I left. Poor cat she was so frighting[/ened] of me that she ran right on top of a tree in the garden.
When the boss was up one morning before breakfast, he called me to his room. This is what he said to me. ‘Madam said that she don’t want you to work anymore here because after [all] her cook is not going to leave. Yes Robert while I was sick I heard everything of what took place between you and madam. You know yourself, [the] woman [has] got [a] short temper. But the husband must also respect them. Now I am having to do what she says. But I am going to pay you all the money although you have worked here only 3 weeks and here is your reference 3 months good boy.’ I was amazed to read it said ‘thank God bless you for your WISE COUNCIL.’
I left Witbank November 1910. I got a job at State Mine, working in Mr [Chocky?] the Compound Manager. Here also I only work[ed for] 3 weeks and [then] I was transferred to General Office for this reason.
One afternoon the milk boy came with milk and I must boil the milk. I put it on [the] stove [and] the Mrs called me. I told here that I am watching [the] milk. ‘Never mind milk I will look after it myself. You go and wash baby napkins.’ I obeyed and went. I was not amused at [the] site when the whole milk boil out and there was not a single milk left in the pot.
Here started the trouble. The mistress came to me with outstretch[ed] hand, ‘what you mean why you let the milk boil all out of the pot[?]’ ‘What you mean didn’t you tell me to wash this blinking napkins, which is a woman job[?]’ ‘You cheeky, I will come and tell the big boss.’ ‘All right you can please yourself madam.’ ‘The boss will send you to jail.’ ‘OK madam.’
Supper time the boss instead of sending me to [court?] asked me if I can read and write. I said yes. ‘Tomorrow report yourself to my office, pack all your things from the room.’ Next morning I came to his office. He gave me a letter to the secretary General Office, there I was given messenger job. I only work there the month[s] of December January. I run away.
For this reason on Christmas, at another mine, I won many prizes for running, including a little pig. Believe me pig[s] can run. They put lots of grease on her body, yet I caught [her] a mile from the starting place.
This is the reason of my running away. While waiting for the letter outside the office I again fall asleep. This went on for a long time. One day the secretary called me. No answer. He came out to see what [had] become of me. He find[s] me fast asleep. Sack and send back to the Compound Office.
There the CM want[s] to send me down the mine. I refused and I told [him] to pay me off. This he refused, even to send me back to his kitchen. Also [someone]’s request was rejected by him. ‘Well,’ I said to him, ‘I am not going down below. One thing I am going to do is run away.’
‘You can run away. I will find you or [in] other words I will send police in your track’. I sold my b[ic]ycle. I went away to Johannesburg. One week in Joburg. I left for Kimberley.
January 1911 I went to work in Bultfontein mine. In that mine I met one of my father[’s] cousin[s] Ezekiel Chiguza and I stay[ed] with him in [the] same house. We used to get our pay fortnightly. He told me that whenever I received my pay I must hand it over to him for safe keeping.
He being [the] elderman, I thought [to] myself, he is wise. I start to give him all my money I earn. So much to keep, so much to buy food. I gave him my money for the space of 4 months.
One day I went to a Msutu man he was a tailor. I wanted [him] to teach me how to make suits etc. He agreed providing that I paid him £5. ‘OK,’ I said, ‘I will bring the money.’
I went to my father[’s] cousin. I ask him to give [me] £5 out of my money and I explain the reason of my wanting it. ‘Oh no you cant spend such a lot of money for that kind of work.’
I told him I want to learn it so that I also can make money for myself. ‘And beside,’ I said to [him], ‘it is my own money I am asking [for].’
‘NO. I can’t give you the money today, tomorrow OK,’ and it went on for the whole week. When one of the men in the house asked what it is that I am asking Ezekiel, I explained to him.
‘What you was giving you to pay to him[?] Well if it is so you don’t expect to get it back. Don’t you know that Ezekiel is a gambler[?] He’s in this compound over 5 years, never go[es] out. He gamble[s] all his money out every night and he never win[s] so your money is gone the same way. This [is] why he can’t give it to you.’
When I heard that I was very angry. I asked him. He couldn’t answer me. So much of my money he had spent. What could I do to fight him[? It] is impossible and he is [an] elder men and a cousin of my father. What to do[?] I move from that house to another one. No money, no earning[s]. I start to work again I save for five months. I went out. I stayed four months outside.
I went in the mine again, not [the] same one of [course]. No this time [Daitospan?]. I work two months there. December 1911 I got sick in the mine, and I was sent out so that I can go to [the] big hospital. I stayed in Kimberley till June of 1912.
I went to Free State to another Diamond mine known as Robert Victor mine. There I got a nice job job, to clean the rooms of unmarried miners, before 9 O’Clock I am finish[ed]. For the whole day I am doing nothing. There for the first time in my life I got sick. I mean [a] real illness. I nearly went to my maker.
June of 1912, one night I was speaking with some of my friends, about 12 O’Clock midnight. I bade them good night. I went to sleep. When I opened my eyes I found myself in hospital, it was 3.30 in the afternoon. Early in the morning some one find[s] me in my room half dying.
He went to report [it] and I was carried on [a] stretcher to the hospital with a temperature of 105. I was just like one who has lost his senses. I linger in that hospotal fighting death for the whole month.
When I was better I wanted to get away from that place as soon as possible. I left the following morning on ox wagon to Bloemfontein. The wagon runs [the] whole of that day and [the] whole night. Next morning about 3 O’Clock we reached Bloemfontein. I didn’t stay in B/. I left that very evening for Joburg.
In Joburg I meet a friend of mine James Love Banda working in Nourse Mine.[see note] After a month stay in Joburg I got a job as a housekeeper, looking after Nyasaland native[s].
[note: Writing to his son Alexander in 1944, Clements described James Love Banda as his ‘cousin’ who fought in Belgium during WWI. Donald Fraser recalled that he met both men at the Cape Town docks in 1920 at the start of his book, New Africa. Clements Kadalie to Alexander Kadalie, 31/03/1943 and 19/04/1944, UWC Alexander Kadalie Papers."
[Three pages are missing from the original manuscript at this point]
This same day, it was at supper time I laid the table, the boss sit and I brought in soup. I waited in [the] kitchen for nearly 20 minutes without a call, even to ring the bell at last 24 minutes elapse. I heard the bell, when I enter the dinning room I saw that the soup is never touched.
I was surprise[d]. He asked me if I [had] ever wait[ed] on table before. I said yes. ‘Look on this table if everything is OK[?]’ I look round I could see nothing, to me it looks like everything is in order.
At last I observe that [the] soup spoon is not on [the] table. ‘I am sorry sir, I forgot [the] soup spoon.’ Going towards the kitchen to fetch the spoon, I got a hard blow I fell right in [the] kitchen. Back with [the] spoon put on table, before I turn towards [the] kitchen, I get boots behind me.
One week after this trouble I was told by the boss that on Sunday there will be dinner. Mr So-and-So is coming, all Scotchmen farmers. Well I made nice dinner. The guest[s] enjoy[ed] it. And I heard one gentleman asking my boss Mr Yate, ‘who is this girl I always see here at your place nicely dressed[?]’ ‘Oh yes, you mean the girl you see here[? She] is my cook’s wife.’
But the girl dress very good. She got [a] nice dress one day, I saw, with a nice coat. Even I [can] never afford to buy one for my Mrs. ‘How much do you pay your cook Mr Yate[?]’ ‘I paid him £5.’ After that the conversation dropped.
On Monday I went to a certain farm where I always fetch vegetable[s]. This farmer was also at this dinner. He called me in his office, to my surprise to see the Bible open.
‘Well your name is Robert, where is your country[?]’ I said, ‘Nyasaland.’ ‘Oh I see. Lots of Scottish missionar[ies?]’ I said, ‘yes.’ ‘Well do you believe that there is God in heaven[?]’ I said yes.
‘Did you ever read ten commandments[?]’ ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Do you know it said that you mustn’t tell lies[?]’ I said, ‘yes.’ ‘Well I am going to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth, hide nothing, but tell me the truth. Tell [me] whose wife is that by the place you work[?] I mean the girl I see there every day.’ ‘That girl sir is my mistress, my boss’ wife in another word.’ ‘Oh I see. Thank [you].’
I said to him, ‘please don’t tell him otherwise he is going to hit me.’ Then I left for Mafekin[g]. I stayed there a month. I again came to Joburg. Christmas of 1914 I spend in Joburg. I work in Durban Roodeport with my cousin Titus, son of Gulu. One night a X[h]osa boy came to our place, asking [for a] place to sleep. My cousin refused.
I told my cousin, ‘we must give the boy place.’ This we did. Next morning we left for work leaving him in the room. On our return my jacket [has] dis[a]pear[ed]. We trace the boy through the police. He was arrested and sentenced to 1 month hard labour.
I left that place, and from there I went to [the] Pass Office to sign on as transport worker. Feb 1915 we left Joburg for Cape Town. At Observatory Camp we work very hard. No Saturday off, nor Sunday. We left the military with my chum James Love Banda. Here in Cape Town 1915, we couldn’t find work for many months. We roam the street[s] of CT in search of work.
One day I got a job at [Jambreskloor?] as a house boy. The treatment was bad. I left, and I got another job in Adderley Street with George Findlay.[see note]
[note: George Findlay was a prominent South African lawyer who Clements Kadalie hired for numerous ICU cases over the course of the 1920s. These included Clements’ personal defence when charged under the 1927 Native Administration Act in May 1928, and the defence of the Onderstepoort Laboratory workers, also in 1928. My Life and the ICU, pp. 170; 176. When he was interviewed by the historian Sylvia Neame in 1969, Findlay asserted that Clements, as a populist, was not popular amongst other Malawians or the majority of educated Africans in general – a view perhaps informed by Robert’s personal opinions. Sylvia Neame interview with George Findlay, 16/08/1969, WITS Sylvia Neame Papers.]
There I work up to 1918, when my brother Clements came to Cape Town to work so that we can go home together.[see note]
[note: Clements Kadalie recalls that on his arrival in Cape Town, “My elder brother Robert Victor Kadalie welcomed me at the station. When we reached his house at the top of Waterkant Street, my brother’s wife [Lillie], a Coloured woman, said to him after she had shaken hands with me, ‘Look here, Robert, there is something in this boy and you will see.’ Quietly I pondered her remarks.” C. Kadalie, My Life and the ICU, p.36. Joe Paulsen, the first president of the ICU, lived at 98 Waterkant Street, whilst Professor James Thaele lived at 115 Waterkant Street. After the collapse of the ICU in 1929, a core of the original Cape Town ICU continued to meet at ‘89 Waterkant Street’ – possibly Joe Paulsen’s home.
In 1919 I engage a girl [Lillie], the same year I married her, but the relationship between me and my brother became bad.[see note]
[note: Clements Kadalie asserted that in late 1920, the “excitement of the docks victory had hardly subsided when the so-called friends of the Natives began to plan my expulsion from South Africa. At this time relations between my elder brother, Robert Victor Kadalie, and myself were strained. It was alleged that at the time he was approached to supply the authorities with information regarding my birthplace…This deportation agony was borne alone. I was a single man in my early twenties. My own brother had foresaken me for he was now pleased that my political activities were over.” C. Kadalie, My Life and the ICU, pp.45-47. HD Tyamzashe also believed that Robert compromised Clements’ residence in South Africa. Tyamzashe wrote that in late 1920, “Nobody would have known that he [Clements] was a prohibited immigrant had it not been that his elder brother, Robert Kadalie, [who] had a small case of some sort in which he disclosed his nationality. Without much ado the authorities issued orders for the deportation of Clements Kadalie, but he had already become a force to be reckoned with in political circles…” HD Tyamzashe, Summarised History of the ICU.
That same year of my marri[age] we part. He wish[ed] to stay at his own place.[see note]
[note: Clements Kadalie went to live with Bennet Ncwana and an ‘Isaacs’ at 6 Morris Street.]
My child Mary was born 13 September 1919. Again a boy born July 9th 1921, Stanley was his name. Again a girl Alice, she was born 31 May 1923. Still with George Findlay. Another girl Molly was born 1925, then again another Lettie was born 1928. And again another daughter Rachel was born May 1929.
All this time we was staying at No. 4 Assurance Lane, Cape Town. And at that time there came a new manager at Findlay. This man always quarrel[ed] with [me], simply because I was a brother of Kadalie. One day I got fed up. I told him to pay me off. He did so and I left Findlay after 13 years with that firm.
I left Findlay. Also I moved from Assurance Lane to [Vasco?]. There I stayed a few days. I went on July 1929 to Port Elizabeth to be a secretary of [the Independent] ICU. Here I must state that when I left Cape Town, I was promised by the committee of the [Independent] ICU that first I can come myself, leave my wife and children in CT and it won’t be long before I send for them. I [was] suppose[d] to go to East London there to be a branch secretary.
This was arrangement with my brother Clements. But it please[d Joel] Magade, the Provincial Secretary, to use my name in PE [Port Elizabeth], where there was only [a] committee [and] no paying members.
I am [a] Kadalie, [and] he think[s that] if the people of PE hear that Kadalie[’s] brother is here they will come by number to join the ICU, here, where he made mistake as far as PE people were concern[ed].
He, Magade, forgot that the people [in] PE had wounds which never healed until this day. They lost [a] lot of money through [the] ICU there. [They] were promised land which they never got. To this place I went, leaving my family in Cape Town. Before I left Cape Town, I asked Magade to send me some money to leave it with my wife.
The promise [was] that as soon [as] I reached PE he will give [me] the money, and I will send it from there [at] once. The train fare was for 3rd Class, and 3rd class I travelled. I arrived at PE station [and] no one was there to welcome me. So I went to my cousin James B[lackwell] Fuka, the son of Chief Fuka.
[That] afternoon I took bus to Korsten where [the] ICU office was. I met Magade [and] the first thing I asked after hand shake was, ‘[where is] the money as I want to send it that same afternoon.’ ‘You’ll get it tomorrow,’ was what he says.
Believe me or not I never got that money. For the half of that July month I got nothing in wages. I sent to my wife now and then 10/- or 15/-, some of this money was given to me by my friends. For food, breakfast and dinner, I eat at my cousin Blackwell Fuka[‘s] at Castle Hill.
August finish[ed]. No members, no money come in the office. When I address[ed] meetings, people put hard question[s], which I was unable to understand because I was not in [the] ICU in its heydays.
Some people came to the meeting[s] with a threatening attitude. ‘Where is our money [that] went to your brother, and [which James] Dip[p]a collected for to buy land[?]’ One woman say[s] ‘I subscribed £20 pounds, and I got nothing.’[see note]
[note: James Dippa was Provincial Secretary for the ICU in Eastern Province, but was dismissed when it emerged he had stolen considerable sums of ICU donations]
Oh I can’t describe here ever[y one of the] insults I got from the people of PE. I just wish I had money to go back to Cape Town. I wire to Clements at Johannesburg where the head quarters was, compose[d of] three people, Clements, Tyamzashe, [and] Maduna.
End of October, Clements came. Yes, when the meeting was called that afternoon [on] that well know[n] hill, there were more than 500 people. Haratio Mbele was a chairman. Clements spoke for an hour. He spoke without interruption.
Some women in the meeting cry, but not [a] single fellow ask[s] any question as the[y] do if we address a meeting. After 3 weeks stay I told Clements that there two things for me to do now, [either] be disgard[ed] or to be sent to East London.
Clements promised to go with me to East London. But the women members of ICU beg[ged] Clements not to take me away, because there is no secretary and they don’t like Magade the PE [secretary], and they promise me many things which they never do nor fullfill. I remain in PE.
CK went alone to East London what made me to agree to remain I really don’t [know] to this day. December I wrote to my wife to come to PE before Dingaans’ Day. I waited she never came. There was no letter from her. Christmas came. No wife. We are now preparing for the ICU conference [set] to take place at East London on January 5.
My wife at CT sent no letter to me up to 1st January, so I thought that she doesn’t want to come to PE. 3 January I left for EL. She also left Cape Town for Port Elizabeth. Her wire probably reached PE on 4th January.
Probably the person whom she sent to wire me did so in [the] afternoon on the 3rd January. If the wire was sent in the morning on the 3rd, I could [have] see[n] the wire before I left and I could [have] made preparations for her. Fate decided otherwise.
I left with no thought of my wife, thinking she’s still in CT. 8 O’Clock [when] we left Port Elizabeth she was probably travelling toward Montague. I reached East London, [and] she reach[ed] PE two day[s] after my departure to EL.
[As there was] no one to receive her at Station, she came to [the] ICU office. None of [the] ICU women members knew of her coming. Someone found her at the office, [and] went to tell one [the] woman member[s]. She came to fetch her to her house. The conference took nearly a week. All this time I know not that my wife she’s in PE. I even sent her money to Cape Town.
The following week, [the] East London branch of [the] ICU declare[d a] strike.[see note] Second week in EL, the strike is now in full swing. Third week, a wire from my wife that she’s in PE. Mind you she was there almost 2(1/2) weeks in PE before she wired to me. I got her wire and I told her to go to my cousin [Fuka] until I come after the end of [the] strike.
[note: Around this point, the South African Police opened a file on Robert, labelling him ‘Native Agitator No. 489’. GNLB 401 55/1 Native Unrest (1932-1935).]
That same week I receive a wire from my wife, all [the] members of [the] strike committee were arrested including myself. We was put on trial after a preparatory examination. Clements [and] Maduna £100 bail. Mnika, Tyamzashe, Mkwambe, Darrington [also known as DDT Mqayi], Magade, Fetsha and myself our bail was £50.[see note]
[note: Clements asserted in his autobiography that he “pleaded for the release of my brother, Robert Victor Kadalie, who was not a member of the strike committee, but it was pointed out that Robert had affixed his own name to the list of the strike committee, which was found in our offices, and as such the police held that he accepted responsibility for all the actions of the strike committee.” My Life and the ICU, p.189.]
I was [a] week and [a] half in jail. When I instructed the committee to send money to my wife, so that she can come to East London, that now was February month. She did send send her train fare, she left Port Elizabeth for E London. The very day her train steamed toward EL we were ordered to be remove[d] to Grahamstown, our trains meet[ing] in the way. I without knowing that my wife is in that train, just past me by, likewise my wife.
On her arrival at East London she was told that we have been transferred to Grahamstown [in] February. Clements, Tyamashe, Darrington, Mnika, Mkwambe, Magade were released on bail. Three of us was left namely Maduna, Fetsha + myself. Each [had] to go to his prospective branch or place, those from East London must go there, Joburg to Joburg, Transkei to Transkei. The whole of March finish we were still there. 1st of April we were released.
I went to PE, Fetsha EL, Maduna Johannesburg. There at PE I hire a room, buy few furniture, etc, now instruct my wife to come back to PE, because I can’t go to East London, not until after [the] trial. If anyone is found in EL he will be arrested. After two weeks, she came with 2 children Lettie and Rachel (Tsapsi). The three she left in Cape Town, nameley Mary, Stanley and Alice they were staying with her cousin [Autamo?] Thus Jan, Feb + March we never meet, beside Aug, Spt, Oct, Nov, Dec of 1929 our separation was 8(1/2) months. This was due to my wife[’s] foolishness. She failed to come as instructed [again] and again. She now wrote that she is coming either that Dec or Jan. Again she should wire earl[ier]. I also told her that I was going to EL for [the ICU] conference.
May month I went back to Grahamstown for the trial. We were tried by Mr Justice Gutche. Often in that court, the case was postponed for a week. I went bac to my wife in Port Elizabeth. Again the case came before the judge, we had as our defender Adv. Will Stuart and many people, African, in Grahamstown were good to us. Nearly [every] night [we] were invited there and here. Also [by] church people, including Rev Stuart of [the] English church, who in turn let every one of us chose a book, which we like[d].
Our advocate fight a very hard to save us. There were many European[s] in that court. Mostly from the colleges. The case came to an end with the judge postpon[ing] again for two days for the decision.
The last day, that night we prayed as we [have] never pray[ed] before. So was the morning of [the] verdict. The court was crowded that morning. When his Lordship enter[ed] the court, everything was quiet. Police were ready to fetch or to take us down below. The judge began from the last one, not from the head, which was Clements, Maduna, Tyamzashe and so on. Fetsha was the last one in the roll, I came second last. The judge started with Fetsha so and so. ‘I find him not guilty. R Kadalie not guilty. Darrington not guilty. Mnika not guilty. Mkwambi not guilty. Magade not guilty. Tyamzashe not guilty. Maduna not guilty. Clements Kadalie I find him not guilty on this + that count and guilty on one count: 3 months or £25 pound fined.’ This money was paid there and then. That end[ed] the famous strike of East London.
That day the police could not look in our faces. They were ashamed, because they have failed. We slept at Grahamstown. Next morning we all left Grahamstown for East London by big bus. Clements, Maduna + Tyamzashe left by private taxi. The[y] reached East London about 3 O’Clock, our bus reached East London 7 O’Clock. The whole of East London came to welcome us, singing and dancing away for the whole night.
I stayed at East London one week. I left for Port Elizabeth. While in PE many of my friends warned me to leave [the] ICU and return to my former job. When we parted with my brother, we arranged that when he came to EL, as he is going to remove head office from Joburg to EL, and I shall come again to East London to (start) to open a shop and a barber, I agreed. I stayed at PE without looking for work, yet I had a hard time. One day a CID came to my house asking me if I [have] got children in Cape Town. I said yes. The man who is looking after your children says that he is not going to look after them any longer because I don’t help him for their maintenance, etc. ‘Now look here Robert, I am a CID but I [have] got a father here in PE who has a big store and if you like I will tell him to give you a work there so that you can send for your children. I have gone through your record. Although you was arrested with your brother, you are not so bad as him, you only started to join him now all these years you were working in Cape Town. Thin[k] of your children.’ When my wife heard she was very pleased, and told me to agree to the Detective Griffin proposal. No my heart was not in PE but to EL, where I saw the vision of a shop, [and] she the wife help[ing] me to run it. I refuse the nice offer of [the] CID man. It was the devil as you will learn by [the] by.
July month [1930] Clements send me £2 as my train fare. I told my wife that I am going to East London to start [a] business, and I shall send for her as soon as possible. I reached EL. Clements did not come to the station, but he sent a car to fetch me. I came to his house for [the] first time, [and] I met his new wife Eva. I was surprise[d] to see that she is not a Coloured woman, but really European.
[According to page numbering in the original manuscript, ten pages are missing here, but this may be an error in numbering.]
As stated, that I thought it was the devil or (SATAN) who [made] me not accept the offer the detective offered me. Likewise it was the same devil who intice[d] me to join [the] ICU, because, as I have stated on [the] other page, [of] what our relationship between me and my brother Clements was. We never had what is commonly known as brotherhood love. The fellow was, I don’t know what to term him, I can[’t] find a word. When his ICU had money he never want[ed] me to join him, although many of his friend[s] told [me] to do so. Many hundreds of pounds he spent, but he never gave or sent his mother[’s] son anything. I did not care because I had a good job, even, I cared nothing of the said ICU.
In 1929 when I left G Findlay’s. I wrote to him that he can now see that the white people hate him, and I have been dismissed simply because he is my brother. I think, out of shame, he offered me the secretary job in [the] ICU, not because he wanted to. You can even see [that] when I wrote to him in 1929, that [is] why I am sent to PE instead of East London where the branch is rich. He says nothing. He himself knew that [the] PE branch cannot pay even [a] 10/- salary.
I am coming to my story. While in EL, I asked my younger brother, after a week[‘s] stay, for money to start [a] barber shop, money to buy tools, glass, chains etc. ‘Wait, wait.’ And I waited. That July month finish[ed]. August I waited. All this time my brother, his wages were every collection on Sunday meeting, [which all] goes to him. Sometimes, morning meeting collect 6 pounds, £6 [which] goes to him. Afternoon 6 to 7 pounds, sometimes all this money goes to his pocket. Not a single penny is given to me. I ask, ‘what the people give to me, which I use to send my wife[?]’ Every branch, he got what was known as ‘capitation fees’ for HO, 5/- in the £. These he used to take more than 30 to 40 pounds a week. Yet he would not give me the money he promised me, to come to EL to open a store.
I beg him to give me £4 [so] that I could send [money] to Cape Town, so that my children should come to PE to their mother. No not Clements. What can I do[?] I made up a plan. I typed a letter addressed to [the] branch chairman of Kingwilliamstown. He has a rubber stamp of his name, ‘yours faithfully, C Kadalie’. [I] instructed the chairman ‘to help my brother Robert with anything which he deem[ed] fit to raise money for him, so that he can send for his children who are in CT.’
I came to KWT give Bovana the letter. The fellow call[s] upon members of that town to [a] social, to play for money [in order] to help Comrade Robert Kadalie, the brother of the chief. Before that social, about 3.30 pm, I address[ed] a big meeting at the Market Square. I spoke nicely that evening of [the] social. Also I address[ed] the members. The result was that [at] 4 O’Clock the chairman announce[d] that we have raise[d] for Comrade Kadalie the sum of five pound and ten shillings, £5 10/-. Hurrah. The money was handed to me. Some members help me privately. I come back to EL. I wired the money to [the] station master, Cape Town and [an]other wire to my wife[’s] cousin, where the children were. Then I came to EL.
I also inform my wife, when I came to EL. I told Clement what the people of KWT did to me. He was angry with me and the chairman. I told him in plain English that, ‘He has fulfil[ed] his vengeance, that today I am struggling. If he did not [think] of call[ing me] to his accursed ICU I should be better of[f] in Cape Town.’ I was hot, and if you talk too much you will know what will result. ‘Just now I will do to you the same [as] I did to your PS [Provincial Secretary, Magade] for decoying me to PE. [He] left me there to starve when he ran to EL.’ He knew that I gave Magade a terrible thrashing. I said to him the same blood of Akafunda which [spilt?] that day, of Magade[’s], it [will] again start unless you shut your mouth. I will close this same door as I did to Magade. None of your officers will come to your rescue.
Beside [this] I spoke [of so] many things, that I think I start from the day he was two years of age to that day. [I] told him what kind [of] a man he is. ‘Even Satan in hell is better. Some times he has pity on his brother angel[s] (THE SATAN), if they have gone to God’s side,’ etc. That very day I demand[ed] from him ten pounds so that I can go back to CT. He couldn’t give [it to me], so I left him.
A week after this incident, my children reached PE and they find the same good members of [the] ICU were good to me, they find a room for me so that I can call my wife + children. They put two [collections together?] they in themself. So I sent [a] fare to my wife [and] she came. Alas, when my brother heard it he was very angry. He met me and ask[ed] me what I meant by bringing [my] family here as I [had] got no job to provide [for] them. ‘Yes,’ I said to him, ‘you are happy because your wife and son are with you, and mine are far [a]way with the people whom they know not. It is better for them that we starve together here.’ Then I told him that mother[’s] prophecy came true, when she told [us] many years ago, that we quarrelled daily in the house, ‘when we grew, we shall never love one another, no[r] help one another. You deceived me, about [the] business venture. Where is it now?’
1930 finish[ed] with me struggling in that East London, some days starving, while food got rotten [at] my brother[’s] house. My own children cannot go to their uncle[’s] house because he will not receive them as an uncle. [In] August 1931 a boy was born to us, and he was called Clements simply because the room we occupy was lacking. So he Clements came and find that my wife was about to deliver the child, [and] order[ed] her to be removed to his house. There my boy was born. Hence his name, Clements. But alas, she was only two weeks there. When he start to complain, so we have to go back to our old place. A very small place it was.
I was [so] tired with my brother[’s] unkindness that I went to look for work in the Railways.[see note] There, when I told them who I am, the foreman or the man who engage[s] boys says, ‘this time do you think we can give [a] job here in the railway to you [?] A year is not finish yet, or otherwise do you want me to lose my job for your sake[?] The Railways Authority have not forgotten the strike you and your brother had last year. And you came today to ask [for] work here. What a cheeky. Get out.’
[note: In part, Robert instigated the demise of the Independent ICU, and emergence of the United ICU. In September 1931 Robert Kadalie was made the Organising Secretary of Kingwilliams Town. According to Tyamzashe, Robert messed up and the Provincial Secretary, Magade, demanded his dismissal. As a result, Clements Kadalie ‘called’ to a Provincial Conference at Port Elizabeth - which he then refused to attend because the committee wanted to remove both the Kadalie brothers. Clements Kadalie was in Port Elizabeth, but he refused to address the conference audience, and instead addressed a public meeting. The Provincial Conference then dismissed him. As a result, the Independent ICU split, with more than 90% of the members following Clements Kadalie in what was now called the United ICU. Mpolongwane was made the President, as Gumede had become indifferent to the ICU cause. Tyamzashe, Summarised History of the ICU.]
Well what can I do[?] I went to a gentleman a Mr Wilson who is a member of [the Institute of] Race Relation[s]. He gave me a letter to the foreman of [the] Union Castle line. I get up [at] 5 O’Clock am that morning. [I] found the said foreman [and] gave him my letter. To my surprise the fellow just says to me, ‘go to Hell. I got enough of your Kadalie fellow[s]. I just wish I had a gun and blow your brain out of your head. Get out.’ There was many Natives some of them member[s] of [the] ICU, I came back and explain[ed] to my wife. I said to the wife, ‘I am sorry I never listen[ed] to you in Cape Town, when you stopped me not to go to PE to join my brother. Again in PE when Detective Griffin offered me a job, I was obs[ti]nate when you told me to go and work.’ To give courage to me, she says ‘I am all these years with [you] Robert. I shall do my best to help you I shall go and work, or do some business.’ True to her word, she start[ed] to make fancy pillow cases, charge 2/6 to 3/- and so on. This helps a bit.
No I want to do some work. I went to Wilson + to [the] Sweet Company. Here one of [the] Wilson[s] was a witness on the strike case. To this very man I must go. He recognised me. ‘When[/well] Kadalie what [can] I do for you[?]’ I gave him my testimony and [say] ‘I am a new comer to [the] ICU you can even see my references.’ ‘No I am sorry Kadalie, the directors will go for me.’ I said, ‘you are the boss in this place Mr Wilson.’
‘Yes, I am the boss. But I am not the only boss. We are three brothers. I am junior. There [is] the senior. You can go to him and ask him, Mr Douglas Wilson.’
I went to this man. Also he was sympathetic, but he also thought that I am as his brother, so I left him. I went home [at] the end of 1931. [1931] ends, I was still struggling. 1932 came, I was given work in [the] ICU as [an] organiser. Every week I am out in the reserve organising meetings opening branches. Wherever I open [a] new branch, whatever the money for contributions there were, I had no power to do with it as I like. It was in committee hands. I have to record [a] certain amount for each meeting. But if the ‘chief’ came every penny in that branch will be taken away and I got nothing.[see note] Although I protest, ‘that is not right for him to take every branch[’s] money’, my brother will not listen. In some cases, the people, as members when they heard that this branch money is taken away to E London by Clements they stop paying their tickets. So it went on. 1933 came. I was still organiser secretary in that year. One day I was going to town when a native police[man] came and tell me that the Sgt. want[ed] to see me. I went to [the] Police Station. ‘Well Robert have [you] ever paid any poll tax[?] I warn you to appeal before the court on Monday. Failing which you will be arrested.’
[note: Clements Kadalie was widely known within the Independent ICU as ‘chief’.]
On Monday I went to the court. The magistrate was absolutely hostile, since my name was Kadalie. ‘You have never paid poll tax. All these years. I ordered you to pay the 8 years [I] fined you £3 or three months jail.’ I asked if I can pay this money in instalment[s]. ‘Nothing of that sort you have to pay everything cash.’ I went to jail. I stayed 4 days. Clements came and fetch[ed] me, or otherwise he paid everything.
In 1934 I was given [a] job in [the] ICU office as a branch secretary. At 10/- a week I worked in that capacity until April 1937. I bank[ed the] ICU money nearly every week. Still, my wages remain[ed] 10/- a week. 1934 another son was born to us. We called him Johnnie. Again in 1936 another child, a girl, this we called Eleanor. 1937 I resigned [from the] ICU [and] I went to Port Elizabeth to see [to] work there for 5 months in PE. [There is] no work to find, [so] I came back to East London. I found my wife has opened a fruit stall at [the] Indian market. It was not a successful venture. Many people will not buy by [from] our store. ‘Yes, at last, the Kadalie[s] want to have our money by selling fruit and vegetable to us.’ [In] 1938, at last, I was given work in the railways. I work nicely. That now was [the] first work which I know that if I work all 6 days, I am going to get my £14/-.
After a month I PTO for my wife and 5 children to visit Kimberley. They stayed there 1 month. My elder daughter was left behind and she [was] sent her uncle Foster at Vereeniging. She stayed there till December when I went to fetch her. I also went there [at the] end of October. I return[ed] to East London [in] December 1938.
For the first [time] since 1909 that I met my younger brother Foster Kadalie. My nephew Clement Banda the son of my first sister Mary was born in 1913. It was the first time [for him] to see me. 1939 February 9th a son was again born to us. As[/at] these[/this] time we now had 9 children, 4 boys and five girls. As I could see that our relationship between me and my brother had become so bad, that I decided to leave EL and return to my former place. That is Cape Town.
All this [time] I was still working with [the] SA Railway[s]. I had a good job that of working with [the] fruit inspector, and I was what we must call [the] office boy[’]s fruit juicer, and [the] boss boy each time. The year 1939, that was the year I decided to leave with all my family. August month I got [a] free pass for my wife and 6 children. I have [to] pay half for Alice the bigger daughter and the elder left by car. Thus my family came to Cape Town before me. In fact I was left with elder boy. And we also left East London October 20 1939.
In Cape Town, of course after 10 years absen[ce] every[thing] is change[d]. Two weeks before we reached Cape Town, my wife found a house at Park Rd Wynberg. November month finish my doing anything. My first work was with Standard Building Society. I started first of December 1939. I worked there until Feb 19th 1940. I was again out of [a] job [for] nearly three months. I found another one with [Egnip?] Ltd. I work there with my son Stanley. I work there only two months. I left to go and work with Boston House. With Boston House I work only 3 weeks, because the work which we was work with the other day disappear, and the blame was put on me. I protested, the result was [the] sack for me.
I went to work with Shell & Co. The work there was very heavy for me. The boss could see it. And I told him that I cannot [do] the work. So I was given a week[’s] notice. After that I stayed [a] long time without work, although I look[ed] for it. Luck deserted me. So one day I was very tired going from that and this building. At last I thought to approach W Harper + Co. I was lucky, the boss gave me work as a[n] office boy. That was February 1941. And this was defining of my sorrow and hardship, as you will hear in the following paragraph.
It was a blessing, because now we can eat good food as other people. The struggle of my poor wife is near as an end. She was buying meat and we sell it to other people round about. Some time [she] go[es] and sell[s] vegetable[s]. She was very lucky. Also our elder son got a job somewhere in Seapoint, earning his wages weekly. Each week he give to his mother £1. So we have good income in the house, until sometime in July month when my wife start to complain that there is a lump on her breast. She did not take much notice with it. I told her to go to [the] hospital. There, the doctor told her to stay in hospital for a little time. She probably refused.
She came to tell me that the doctor told her to stay in hospital for six months. But it was not so. She went on with her selling until December. Meanwhile my son start to get sick so, that on November, he left work to come home. I could not make all his sickness. Although the doctor said that he has TB the first he came to us for first time to sleep home. He complain[ed] that he can’t sleep in the house of room since he brought a friend to work. The boss let him sleep in the room alone so that night he come home 12 O’Clock pm. ‘I came to sleep here mother, [but] I want to sleep in that hotel again.’ The boy had a good job in that hotel, he use[d] to make plenty [of] money. That week he slept [at] home. The following [week] we didn’t see him again until his mother went to see what is the matter with him. There she learn from the boss that the doctor say he has [had an] attack of TB.
He was sent home. It was funny TB. The boy scream[ed] every night. He can’t go in the yard himself if is not dark, [so] one of his sister must accompany him. Sleeping time he can’t sleep far from our bed, and every night the same. I went to the Malay doctors, African doctor, white - no one could help the boy. I spend some money for those doctors. None of them could help my son. That was November and December 1941.
Again the same month, that is November 1941, I received a letter from my mother[’s] home to say that I must come home. She has been badly assaulted by Kawele. I write to her that I cannot leave just now because both wife and son are sick.
January the lump my wife had on her breast became very bad [and] gave her much pain. I sent her again to hospital. There they told her to bring the husband next morning. I went with her there. I have to signed certain paper, for [an] operation. This I did, and after I left here there. That was January 1942. Before I received a wire from S. Rhodesia that my mother passed away at home on January 4th 1942. She was not long in hospital when our 10th baby was born. And we called her name Dianah. That was February, this baby was to [be] give[n] to a woman to look after it while her mother was still in hospital. This woman did not look well after the baby, and it died beginning of March. The mother [was] sick in hospital, the elder son sick at home, and that same month the baby died. The other boy 3(1/2) years got sick, so the mother has to come out with a very small lump on [her] breast.
She came out from the hospital with another sickness called yellow gander, which made everything in a person[’s] body yellow. She was not long in the house when our son Leslie died, that was in April. This time the elder son also became bad. He also passed away June month, follow[ing] one after another, like it was Mpekeska. Before the elder boy died he called his mother and tell his mother that she also she’s called but not now. Note: Eleven months elapse, the mother also died. So my elder boy died, three children follow their grandmother whom they never seen. Now I have to struggle with my wife. I went with here and there, where we heard that there doctor or a person who knows the remedy.
When last I went with her to the hospital, they told me that they can do nothing. They never told me that she got cancer. This they told me that they can send her to Cornard’s Home. I refused, telling whatever sickness she got I will look after her. This I said, I had a nice boss, who was sympathetic with me and give me ever[y] assistance. Two weeks after my boy[’s] death, I also fell sick with stomach for 5 weeks I was in the house. I went back to work very tired. I used to weigh 170lbs when I were back to work I weighed only 130lbs.
I worked all that year 1942, nursing my wife. The breast by now was bad. December 1942 she went to bed for good. She fought with death until April. her sickness was [a] painful one, night and day no sleep she [would] cry. The pain was hard to bear. But she fight on. Her body was half eaten up, I was wonder to see that she can speak with us both, some night try to comfort her children, try to talk with [them] in even [her] dying words. I many days I was absent from my work, the result was [that for] many week I got half pass.
On April there passed away a young, courage[ous] and kind woman.
Of my dear wife and our darling mother, Lily, passed away on 16th April 1943. A wonderful mother, woman and aid. One who was better God never made. A wonderful worker; so loyal and true. One in a million that mother, was you. Just in your judgement, Always right. Honest and liberal. Ever upright. Loved by your friends and all whom you knew.
Our wonderful mother, that mother was you. Sadly missed by her husband, sons and daughter.
So died a wife and a mother. (She) her passing has been a crashing blow to me, for 24 years we had a happy life. She was a wife and at [the] same time a helper to me. Although not so educated, her wisdom was beyond praise. She had a host of friends, and these friends love her so dearly. many of them missed her today.
My spirit seems to die with her. (I) since she left me I seem to have no soul left with me, the courage and power I had seems to [have] deserted from me, and I am today without [a] mother. In truth she was a real mother to me.
PSALM 23.VI To End Chapter
The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want; He maketh me to the dawn in green pastures; leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the path of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me thy rod and thy staff comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of (my) mine enemies; thous anointed my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever (Amen).
Those [who] will read the bio of mine will understand that it is [a] hard blow to a man after 24 years [of] happy life wife, a wife and daily companion, when one is taken away from one another. It [is a] hard blow to the one who is left. As I can see in myself, my peace is finish in me. I mean those I had when my dear wife was with me. Here I wish to close the narrative of my house next chapter is my journey to Joburg.
Before my wife died I was working with the firm W Harper Builder. The boss of this firm helped me nicely while my house has so many sickness. Mr Harper died before my wife. After the death of my wife I asked [for] leave to go to Johannesburg to visit my sister MARY whom I never seen for 33 years. I arrived Johburg Jul 16. I met my sister at Vereening by Foster my young brother. I went there with my 3 young children leaving 4 in Cape Town. I stayed with my sister 3 months. I again left Joburg for Francistown to meet or visit one James Banda. While there I wanted to visit Bulawayo. But Mr Beaton Longwe stopped me, saying that he was coming to Francistown where his wife was.[see note]
[note: John William Longwe, or JB Longwe, was another founder of the NNNC. Again this could be the same person, or a relative.]
I met Mr Beaton Longwe at Francistown we had a good talk for two days. I stayed 2 weeks with Mr James Banda. 1st October 1943 (I again) I came back to Cape Town. The following week I got a job with the firm of Wier of Woodstock also builders. I was not long with this firm. I only worked with them three month[s]. Here I must state that, so foolish, I had been, like other men when their dear wife passed away they wait a longer time before they look to a second partner. In my case it was not so. I propose[d] to another woman much younger than myself. Friends of mine warned me that the woman I want[ed], she is brainless, and that I must not not take her. Even my four girls also told me not to take her. I never listen[ed] to either [of them and] the result was that the uncle of the woman asked me to pay certain Lobola (dowery). I paid in the year 1944 the sum of seven pounds, £7. The rest to be paid after, [some] of which is never paid. From 1944 to Nov 1945 I never work.[see note] I stayed home all this time, while this woman was still with her mother. She became pregnant and had [a] still born baby. This was in 1944. Again 1945 she also had [another] still born baby. [At the] end of 1945 I start[ed] to stay with her in one room, and became my [repentent?] wife, to this day.
[note: Robert was, however, actively involved in chiefly politics in colonial Nyasaland. Clements told his son Alex in 1944, “Robert wrote this week sending me a newspaper cutting giving a report of [the] coronation ceremony in Nyasaland in our own home. Our grandfather, who was the chief that gave permission to the Scottish Missionaries to settle, died many years ago. Another man about Robert’s age or younger was called from Southern Rhodesia to Nyasaland to be crowned as chief. The crowning ceremony is a little similar to the civilised standard. The report in the paper is very interesting.” Clements Kadalie to Alexander Kadalie, 18/10/1944, UWC Alexander Kadailie Papers.]
As I was told that the women, she’s [brainless?] it happened to be so. I suffered a lot, yet I never complain[ed]. [In] 1946 my 5[th] daughter, Rachel, passed away, having 4 daughters and two boys. In the same year the woman which is my [repentent?] wife born a baby child. He is named Charles. Of the year 1944 December I again visited my young brother Foster for three weeks. I had a holiday from the firm of Lewis Construction (Building). I continue with this firm. 1947 Dec I visit East London, to my brother Clements Kadalie. I was nicely by himself + his wife. Nothing important took place in 1948 of which I can write here. 1949 also came
This is the names and date of children born from my first wife, Lillie Kadalie
Mary Kadalie Born 13 September 1919
Stanley Robert Kadalie Born 9th July 1921
Alice Kadalie Born 31st May 1923
Molly Francis Kadalie Born (deceased) 1925
Lettie Kadalie Born 5th Feb 1928
Rachel (Bapsi) Kadalie Born 5th February 1929
Clement Kadalie (JNR) Born 9th August
Children from my second wife, [Anna Windvogue?]
2 died born between 1944 to 1945
Charles Windvogue Born 3rd April 1947
Robert Windvogue Born 19 September 1949
Alice Windvogue Born 27 March 1953
Muriel Flolinah Windvogue Born 27 May 1955
