December 3, 1963

From that awkward torturous sleep, we were woken up at 4 am by the commotion the warders made. The familiar cling and clang of keys against the bars somehow seemed magnified that morning. ‘Umthetho wasejele!’

In pairs, we formed a neat row and sleepily followed the direction the warders indicated. Outside, it was a warm summer morning, the sun already casting a silvery gleam that was busy chasing away the last of the dark of night. But, up there the predawn sky still sported the moon and the stars – things I had almost forgotten existed.

Like a desert traveller, I inhaled deeply, my heart soaring with undiluted pleasure. Surprised, I smiled, thrilled I could still experience the joy of simple nature. Beyond the prison walls, birds chirped and chirruped, busy communicating among themselves from the trees. Dawn, beautiful dawn! The sweet smell of the justwatered grass and soil of the prison's immaculately manicured grounds added to the sense of wholesomeness. Suddenly, I thought of my first sweetheart, Mamodipane or Papai. I was apprehended just when I had finally reached the end of my confusing puberty and was experimenting with the mysteries and pleasures of adult life. As I thought of her that morning, I didn't realise, didn't know, that I would never see her again.

My thoughts were broken by the serving of breakfast. Even on that special day, there was nothing special about our food. We got the same old motoho. The only difference was that, this time, the motoho was still warm. But so we would not be carried away, it was still served in the same small rusty metallic bowls and still made slightly palatable by that frugal spoonful of brown sugar sprinkled on top.

We gulped it down. But my stomach growled for more food. Fat chance of that!

Soon after our introduction to Leeuwkop Prison, I had resolved to banish fear for I understood that unless I did that I would never survive those damp dark walls.

Within an hour, like cattle, we were herded into the police vans. To send us off the Commanding Officer of the prison addressed us. He told us that we were leaving his presence and heading for Robben Island.