Monday, 16 November 2020
Early this morning, before the normalcy of the week began, I logged onto Facebook to find a video tribute by Selvan Naidoo; a video that brought a lump to my throat and a mistiness to my eyes. It was a video that marked the arrival of our forbearers, the first Indian people of Indenture in South Africa.
On 12 October 1860, the SS Truro set sail from Madras in India, bound for Port Natal (now Durban). Men, women and children were crammed into cabins below the deck; some aboard by choice, others by deceit.
A month and few days later, on 16 November 1860, 342 Indian nationals disembarked on foreign shores, followed 10 days later by a further 317 people aboard the SS Belvedere (which had sailed from Calcutta). These foreign shores were to become their home for at least another 5 years (as that was the duration of their “contracts”); these shores went on to become, for many, their home and legacy for generations to come!
“Indentured Labourers” …the words itself fills me with a myriad number of emotions; a bit of anger (I’m human!), much sadness, but above all, a feeling of immense pride. Reading through articles and books, one will be horrified at some of the atrocities inflicted upon the “labourers” (I really read that as slaves!). “People of indenture” or “indentured labourers” was just a euphemism for slavery!
Some never made it off the ships. Cholera and dysentery claimed them. The ones who disembarked, in apprehension, fear and maybe with a dash of hope, were subjected to hard labour, beatings, verbal abuse and rape.
They toiled from sunrise to sunset in the harsh summer sun, in the wind and in the rain. Green stalks of luscious sucrose soon swayed in the stifling coastal heat. With their hands – with their blood, sweat and tears - they turned the once barren land into a goldmine for the colonial masters. Time passed. More people of indenture were brought to work the lands. More sweat rolling off foreheads and backs. More green stalks. More goldmines for the greedy colonialists!
My forebearers arrived on the later ships. My Mum’s grandfather, Gobind Mohunsing, arrived in 1874, 101 years before I was even born! He was 12 years old and legend has it that he had been tricked into boarding the ship! The promise of sweets and mithai was too great for a babe of 12 to resist.
My Dad’s grandfather, Hansraj Chhangur, arrived when he was 2 years old, with his parents, Chhangur and Tulsia Dindayal in 1891 aboard the SS Pongola.
Lest we forget…in 160 short years, the Indian people have created a legacy that is nothing short of spectacular. Every facet of our country, of our economy, has a piece of indenture sewn into its fabric; Despite all their hardships, from the ashes they rose; their sheer tenacity rivalling no other. They went on to build schools, to build places of worship, to become freedom fighters. They became community stalwarts, educators, lawyers, medical professionals, tradesmen, farmers, law enforcers, musicians, authors, dramatists...the list goes on. We are because they were.
Today I put my palms together and I thank them…their sacrifices will never be in vain.
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