Remembering Theresa Solomon: A legacy of courage and strength

Errol April, former Mitchell’s Plain anti-Apartheid student activist

I was a learner at Beacon Hill in 1986 when I was arrested for the first time, during which the “racist dogs” of Apartheid investigated charges of subversion with intent against me for my role at school in the unfolding political chaos in our country.

Soon after my arrest and release I was taken to a house in Woodlands where I met the most interesting, loving, and caring married couple in all my life. In Theresa and Marcus Solomon’s house, I soon learnt about values and vision.

Before long I became attached to Theresa. She became more than a colleague to many of us. Friday nights we would gather for political discussions and debates, games and even partying a bit.

Some nights, based on inefficient scramming from the racist dogs, we would tune into Radio Freedom and listen to the revolutionary voices of leaders such as OR Tambo and Chris Hani.

Theresa became a mentor. With my active involvement next to her side, I soon learnt through observing her actions in her community, how to serve.

Serving the hunger, I saw how this woman cared for her people.

She wrote thousands of letters requesting big businesses in and outside South Africa to help feed the needy, poor and meek, including the aged, children, the destitute, and parents of those who were detained and imprisoned.

As a young Christian, this lesson drew me nearer to her, as she had the same attributes found in the lessons of Christ.

Eventually when the racist dogs caught up with me, I was charged and on trial for more than a year for terrorism, arms and ammunition, furthering the aims of a banned organisation and more.

This lady of valour attended each hearing until my sentencing. I was served with banning and restriction orders. I could leave home and be back at a certain time of the day. She taught me how to manoeuvre as she had served many such orders and detentions, more than some of us collectively have served.

The front door to her Woodlands house was physically and timeously kicked opened by Apartheid bullies in their search for me.

At one stage I was working at the Woodlands People’s Centre. The last time her house door was kicked open, it lost its integrity as a door, and she gave instruction to have it mounted as a personal monument where I worked.

All visitors to the centre learnt about this door and its rich history. On it was posters, flyers, stickers and even buttons with slogans against Apartheid and its tyranny.

Theresa received a phone call on her birthday from me every year, early in the morning, long before her first cup of coffee.

Even at these intervals, she taught me how to be compassionate and to care. I remember phoning her from Tel Aviv, Israel, a few days before her birthday one year. It was around 3am.

I was still a bit disoriented from the time differences and instead of rebuking me, she briefed me about the killing of Amy Biehl, an American exchange student to Gugulethu and the bombing of a church in Kenilworth. She was disturbed by these actions even though it was politically motivated.

This year, some of us as her children, aim to celebrate her life differently, in remembrance of her dedication to the struggle for a better life.

I am honoured to have spent six days with her towards the last week of her life. Quality time to say goodbye and farewell to my comrade and my mentor, who was an internationalist, a revolutionary, a mother to many including her only biological child.

Your legacy will live on. I am because of you. Show love and compassion, dedication and complete the task. These are lessons that I carry with me until today.

She is respected by millions around the world. To those whose lives she has impacted, she cannot die, her name will live forever.

Long live Theresa Solomon.