BRAM: Veels geluk liewe maatjie

Omdat jy verjaar

Mag die … [hesitates before he replaces ‘Here’ with ‘rooi vlag']

Jou seen

En nog baie jare spaar.

BRAM [talking now]: Liewe maatjie … Liewe Molly … Liewe Molly, you are the best maatjie I ever had.

You made me the man I am. Without you I wouldn't have been where I am. I would probably never have led the life I did. I would have been sitting on the stoep of the Johannesburg Country Club drinking gin and tonic along with all the other scared whites. But with you at my side that was never an option.

Dear Molly, at six the cell doors open. We report for roll call. After roll call it is breakfast – mieliepap and lekker volgraanbrood baked by our fellow prisoners; ‘coffee’ – 75% burnt mielies and chicory and 6% coffee. Then we sew post bags or work in the garden.

The post bags break my heart. You know how much I love writing letters. I prefer gardening. The smells remind me of Beaumont Street and the farm. At noon they serve us samp, potatoes and a weak excuse for a piece of meat and, after Jock Strachan gave that information to the Rand Daily Mail about the conditions of political prisoners, peanut butter three times a day. At 4 pm they lock us up … first the gate, then the door. I am on my own for 14 hours.

BRAM: 6 am doors open … roll call. After roll call, mieliepap … volgraan bread baked by our fellow prisoners; ‘coffee’, 75% mielies, 6% coffee grounds. Post bags, gardening. The post bags break my heart. You know how much I like writing letters. Gardening is better.