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\"This book of approximately 300 letters provides access to the voice of Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe via the single most poignant resource that exists: his prison letters. Not only do these letters evince Sobukwe's storytelling abilities, they convey the complexity of a man who defied easy categorisation. More than this: they are testimony to both the desolate conditions of his imprisonment and to Sobukwe's unbending commitment to the cause of African liberation. The memory of Sobukwe, inspirational political leader and first President of the Pan Africanist Congress, has been consistently marginalized in histories of the liberation struggle. Given Sobukwe's antagonistic relations both to white liberalism and the African National Congress, it is unsurprising that he has been subjected to a 'consensus of forgetting'. This collection of letters brings Sobukwe's voice back to the fore\"--Back cover.

This book, comprising approximately 300 letters, provides access to the voice of Robert Sobukwe via the single most poignant resource of Sobukwe’s voice that exists: his prison letters. Not only do the letters evince Sobukwe’s storytelling abilities, they convey the complexity of a man who defied easy categorization. More than this: they are testimony both to the desolate conditions of his imprisonment and to Sobukwe’s unbending commitment to the cause of African liberation. The memory of Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe, inspirational political leader and first President of the Pan-Africanist Congress, has been sadly neglected in post-apartheid South Africa. In 1960, Sobukwe led the Anti-Pass Protests, which culminated in the Sharpeville Massacre, which proved a crucial turning point in the eventual demise of apartheid. Nevertheless, Sobukwe – a man once thought to hold greater promise for the liberation of South Africa than even Nelson Mandela – has been consistently marginalised in histories of the liberation struggle. Jailed for nine years, including a six-year period of near complete solitary confinement on Robben Island, Sobukwe was silenced throughout his life, a condition that has been extended into the post-apartheid present, so much so that we can say that Sobukwe was better known during rather than after apartheid. Given Sobukwe’s antagonistic relations both to white liberalism and to the African National Congress (whom he felt had betrayed the principles of African Nationalism), it is unsurprising that he has been subjected to a ‘consensus of forgetting’. With the changing political climate of recent years, the decline of the African National Congress’s hegemonic hold on power, the re-emergence of Black Consciousness and Africanist political discourse, the growth of student protests, Sobukwe is being looked to once again. Robert Sobukwe, the founder and first leader of the Pan Africanist Congress (PAC), was silenced throughout his life, a condition which has been extended into the post-apartheid present. This book, comprising approximately 300 letters, provides access to his words via the single most poignant resource of Sobukwe’s own voice that exists: his prison letters. Not only do the letters evince Sobukwe’s storytelling abilities, they convey the complexity of a man who defied easy categorisation. More than this: they are testimony both to the desolate conditions of his imprisonment and to Sobukwe’s unbending commitment to the cause of African liberation. Although jailed for nine years, including a six-year period of near complete solitary confinement on Robben Island, Sobukwe was better known during rather than after apartheid. Given his antagonistic views to both white liberalism and the African National Congress (ANC) it is unsurprising that he has been subjected to a ‘consensus of forgetting’. With the changing political climate of recent years, the decline of the ANC’s hegemonic hold on power, the re-emergence of Black Consciousness and Africanist political discourse and the growth of student protests, Sobukwe is being looked to as a leader once again.

This book examines the impact of the global justice movement, as seen from the southern hemisphere. Drawing upon a collective survey from the 2011 World Social Forum in Dakar, the essays explore a number of methodological issues pertaining to the study of transnational mobilizations.

On a freezing winter's night, a few hours before dawn on May 12, 1969, South African security police stormed the Soweto home of Winnie Madikizela-Mandela, activist and wife of the imprisoned Nelson Mandela, and arrested her in the presence of her two young daughters, then aged nine and ten. Rounded up in a group of other antiapartheid activists under Section 6 of the Terrorism Act, designed for the security police to hold and interrogate people for as long as they wanted, she was taken away. She had no idea where they were taking her or what would happen to her children. For Winnie Mandela, this was the start of 491 days of detention and two trials. Forty-one years after Winnie Mandela's release on September 14, 1970, Greta Soggot, the widow of one of the defense attorneys from the 1969–70 trials, handed her a stack of papers that included a journal and notes she had written while in detention, most of the time in solitary confinement. Their reappearance brought back to Winnie vivid and horrifying memories and uncovered for the rest of us a unique and personal slice of South Africa's history. 491 Days: Prisoner Number 1323/69 shares with the world Winnie Mandela's moving and compelling journal along with some of the letters written between several affected parties at the time, including Winnie and Nelson Mandela, himself then a prisoner on Robben Island for nearly seven years. Readers will gain insight into the brutality she experienced and her depths of despair, as well as her resilience and defiance under extreme pressure. This young wife and mother emerged after 491 days in detention unbowed and determined to continue the struggle for freedom.

This article draws on a speech made at the Ruth First Symposium in London in June 2012. It describes Ruth First's role as a writer, political organiser and mobiliser of the freedom struggle within and without South Africa, drawing attention to her intellectual contribution and underscoring the importance of her Maputo years, with their broader significance. It discusses the personal tensions that many had with her, but points out that there was always a political issue at stake in these disagreements. It stresses her role as a scholar-activist, and following Brecht suggests that her assassination was an attempt by the assassins to 'sleep more comfortably'. It then draws powerfully on a letter from Rusty Bernstein to pose the question of what First would have made of the contemporary situation in South Africa, where the 'Empire of Capital' is still dominant.

Zulu Love Letter expands the repertoire of films often labeled \"““Truth and Reconciliation films\"”” in its portrayal of Thandeka Khumalo, a political activist, journalist, and mother. Her painful journey recognizes the moral ambivalence of a victim who has to learn to forgive herself for a past for which she holds herself responsible. With its frequent temporal shifts, highly subjective point of view, and self-conscious narration, the film employs a \"““modernist\"”” representational style that intends to represent the trauma of the past and its post-traumatic resonance in the present. Such a visual landscape, however, also challenges the audience's ability (and willingness) to engage with a character whose testimony already threatens their sense of moral order and human compassion. In this article, I examine the aesthetic and ethical challenges of rendering personal pain accessible to an audience often far removed from the experience of the victim.

Excerpts from letters that Nelson Mandela wrote to his wife Winnie Mandela while imprisoned in South Africa are presented.