A FEW metres from where we were, we came across fresh footprints of the South African soldiers. It was at that moment that I understood why we were ordered to stop. Then as we moved forward, we came across an open space. “Run, run!” shouted a fighter nearby.
After crossing the open space, the fighters later told us that we had crossed into Angola. The open space was the borderline between Angola and the then South West Africa. After walking for about two kilometres into Angola, we could see freedom fighters hugging each other and laughing jovially. Some of them even began singing revolutionary songs.
Suddenly one fighter started firing into the air, prompting some of us to run for cover. This was the sound of an AK-47 rifle and none of us was familiar with the sound.
That was a frightening moment to many of us. Again, the Commander fired two shots in the southern direction, prompting laughter from other fighters. We were not comfortable at all, as this was our first time to hear the sound of an AK-47.
Although all of us were extremely exhausted and very hungry, the majority of us felt lucky to have crossed the border without the enemy soldiers shooting at us. It was also at that moment when I held high the fighting spirit of those freedom fighters.
Personally, I came to believe that the fighters were actually ‘cooked’ human beings, hence, they were not normal like us.
The question that bothered me then was whether we would act like them to become a fighter of incomparable and impeccable standard. It was also at that juncture that I mentally concluded that there was no way that these fighters could be killed by the ‘Boers’, as they were of exceptionally high standard compared to the ‘Boers’.
As we walked northwards, some of the civilians grew so tired and hungry that they were walking with difficulty. Some youngsters collapsed due to hunger, thirst and exhaustion, prompting the fighters to give them water and food rations.
We arrived at one village where we got enough water for everyone to drink. It was also at this unnamed village where we were given food. Though it was not sufficient to feed everybody, most children got enough to eat.
Later in the evening, we were all invited to assemble at an open space. There the Commander welcomed us to Angola saying that the majority of us would become PLAN fighters, while the young ones would be sent to school to further their education. The Commander also told us that we would be provided with water to bath and that villagers had slaughtered an ox for us. He urged us to relax, as there was little chance that the ‘Boers’ would follow us into Angola. However, he warned us not to walk around unaccompanied by either the fighters or other group members.
While waiting for the meat to be prepared, jovial fighters were entertaining us with freedom songs. The songs revived the spirit and morale of the exhausted people to the extent that we even joined the singing fighters. Some of the fighters were interacting with us while others were providing security at a distance from the group.
Some of the singing fighters took off their shirts and boots and at that time I took the opportunity to get closer to them mainly to establish if their bodies were similar to those of ordinary human beings. After supper and listening to the revolutionary songs, I felt energised and closer to achieving my dream of becoming a revolutionary fighter.
Fighters surrounded us while we slept. Some of them kept on patrolling around us, probably trying to identify those who might wish to flee back home. After watching the movements of the fighters throughout, I came to the conclusion that the fighters never slept at all mainly because they were ‘cooked’ human beings.
Early in the morning, at around 05h00, the fighters woke us up and asked us to prepare for the journey. By that time, however, the majority of us were already awake ready to proceed. Suddenly, we heard “nakayee!’’ (Let us go). We were ordered to line up in two columns and unlike before, this time everyone was allowed to choose a position in the queues.
From there on, we walked in the north-eastern direction. As we continued with our journey, the fighters were singing revolutionary songs. I remember at some stage on that journey asking one fighter if I could carry his RPK machine gun.
The fighter passed the gun to me without hesitation, though he had removed the magazine and bullets. The machine gun was very heavy so I found it difficult to carry for a long time, though I did not show it. When I got hold of the machine gun, many people in the queue tried to touch the gun, simply to have a feel of it. As we proceeded, the fighter requested me to hand him back the machine gun and praised me for my enthusiasm, and promised to recommend me to the Commander so that I could be given the same gun.
Around 12:00, we arrived at the first Commanding Post, which looked like a temporary base with no proper infrastructure such as houses or huts apart from trenches dug around the positions. The base was set up deep in the jungle and we were simply asked to sit around under big trees. We spent half the day in that camp without eating anything, not even drinking water.
However, before sunset, we were ordered to form small groups of about 10 people. Later, we were led to a place where we found food consisting mainly of thick yellow maize-meal porridge without relish served in half-cut drums.
The porridge had an ugly taste, as if fuel had been poured over it. Since we were very hungry, some of us tried to eat.
Some of the people who ate the porridge started vomiting while others refused to try. This was the worst porridge I had ever tasted since I was born. The question that arose in my mind was whether this was the same type of food eaten by the freedom fighters or was it solely prepared that way for us – probably as part of the ‘cooking’ process. We left the food almost untouched. None of us was prepared to take more of the porridge anymore although we were extremely hungry.
When the fighters realised that none of us was willing to eat the porridge, they urged us to eat the porridge because that was the only food available.
The fighters encouraged us to prepare ourselves for tough times ahead, as they had been waiting to receive better food but the truck had broken down on the way.
Before sunset that day, we were all called to gather at an open space where the Camp Commander, known by his nom de guerre as Comrade Mundilo, briefed us about SWAPO, how one was expected to behave – neither fighting nor insulting another person was allowed. Similarly, stealing and indiscipline would not be tolerated in the regular members of SWAPO. Furthermore, the Commander warned that anyone found trying to run away would be dealt with severely.
He urged any among us who had been sent by the South African colonial government to spy on SWAPO to come forward and declare their mission immediately because if they waited to be pointed out later, they would be severely punished.