Lest We Forget: The 16 June 1976 Soweto Uprising and the International Day of the African Child

Professor Themba Maseko, Head of the Wits School of Governance, contributed to our Faculty of Commerce, Law and Management's newsletter dedicated to the 50th anniversary of the 1976 youth uprising. 

Read his personal account of this historic period in South Africa's history:

What began as a peaceful march by thousands of schoolchildren from across Soweto soon descended into violence as heavily armed police confronted the students in the dusty streets of the township. I was a 12-year-old boy in Grade 7 at Belle Higher Primary School in Phiri, Soweto. Like many township schools at the time, ours was severely under-resourced. Classrooms held more than 50 learners. We had no electricity, no library, no textbooks and no sports grounds. The 1976 school year began like any other, until rumours spread that the apartheid government intended replacing English with Afrikaans as the medium of instruction. That changed when teachers arrived in our classrooms and began teaching lessons in Afrikaans. I hated it immediately. The policy had been imposed on us without consultation with parents, teachers or communities. It was clear that the apartheid government intended to use language as yet another tool of oppression and control.
 

“What is the point of teaching the Bantu child mathematics when there is no place for him above the level of certain forms of labour?”

 Students at Belle Primary rejected the language policy. By March 1976, we had already begun participating in class boycotts. The South African Students’ Organisation (SASO) soon launched a nationwide campaign against Afrikaans. That morning, peaceful processions of students marched from every corner of Soweto towards Orlando Stadium. Riot police intercepted us before we could arrive. I was among a large group of students gathered outside Orlando West Junior Secondary School on Vilakazi Street. Thousands of young people filled the streets, singing freedom songs and chanting “Senzeni na?” — “What have we done?” A heavily armed police contingent surrounded us. One police officer used a loudhailer to declare our gathering illegal and ordered us to disperse within three minutes. But we continued singing. The police did not wait for the three minutes to expire. Teargas canisters were fired into the crowd. Chaos erupted. Students scattered in every direction. Moments later came rubber bullets, then live ammunition. I heard screams. I saw children my own age collapsing to the ground. Blood stained the streets. The sound of gunfire seemed endless. Terrified, I ran into a nearby church for shelter. My lungs burned from the teargas and the air inside was thick with the smell of blood and fear. Many students never made it home that day.

This was the same area where Hector Pieterson and countless other young people were shot and killed for protesting against an unjust language policy. By the end of that horrific day, more than 500 people — mostly students and youth — had been killed. Thousands more were injured and hospitalised. The Soweto Uprising reignited resistance across South Africa and inspired a generation to continue the struggle against apartheid.

Against all odds, I completed matric in 1982. In 1983, I applied to study law at Wits University. Although I met the academic requirements, I was denied admission because black students required special ministerial permission to attend so-called “white universities”. My application was rejected simply because I was black. I instead enrolled to study law at the University of Zululand. Life there was difficult. I had no accommodation and spent nights sleeping on couches in student residences and television lounges. Eventually, a fellow student from Soweto secretly allowed several of us to sleep on the floor of his room. Like many black students at the time, we struggled constantly with fees, food, textbooks and basic necessities. Following political violence between supporters of the UDF and Inkatha in 1983, I reapplied to Wits and was finally admitted to study law the following year. Becoming a Wits student changed my life.

Coming from Soweto, Wits felt like another world. The university had sports facilities, laboratories, libraries and resources beyond anything I had previously experienced. But I soon realised that black students at Wits still faced enormous challenges. Because of the Group Areas Act, black students were barred from living in surrounding white suburbs near Wits University. Many of us travelled long distances by overcrowded trains from Soweto every single day simply to attend lectures. When I eventually secured accommodation at Glen Thomas Residence, it was the first time in my life that I had my own room. Back home in Soweto, our small house was overcrowded, shared by my parents, siblings and extended family. Having a quiet place to study felt almost unimaginable. But even residence life reflected the cruelty and inequalities of apartheid South Africa. Before Glen Thomas Residence was opened to accommodate black students, many of us survived however we could. Some students slept in television lounges, on friends’ floors or secretly shared already overcrowded rooms. We lived with constant uncertainty, financial hardship and fear. Glen Thomas later became more than just a residence — it became a place of resistance and solidarity. Police frequently raided the residence during periods of student protest, dragging students from their rooms in the middle of the night, arresting activists and treating young black students like criminals simply for demanding equality, dignity and freedom. Yet despite the intimidation, students continued organising, protesting and supporting one another.

In those difficult years, solidarity became our survival. I joined the Black Students Society (BSS), which fought tirelessly for the rights and welfare of black students on campus. The BSS successfully pressured the university to provide accommodation and academic support for disadvantaged students. One important victory was the creation of the Academic Support Programme (ASP), which helped students who had been failed by the apartheid education system adapt to university life. Today, Wits is vastly different from the institution it was fifty years ago. The number of black students and black academics has grown significantly. Graduation ceremonies now reflect the diversity and brilliance of South Africa. Yet serious challenges remain. Student debt, inadequate accommodation and financial exclusion continue to burden many students. Even so, I remain hopeful. As an academic and Head of School, I am proud to witness students from every race and background graduating together and contributing meaningfully to South Africa and the world. The spirit of 16 June 1976 lives on in every young person who pursues education despite hardship, inequality and injustice. The sacrifices of Hector Pieterson and the countless students who died during the Soweto Uprising were not in vain. Their courage planted the seeds of freedom we continue to nurture today. As we commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Soweto Uprising, may today’s youth honour that legacy through education, discipline, courage and service to humanity.