In the early morning hours, Smith came once again with bucketful of ice-cold water and poured it over my body before he untied me from the pole and ordered me to sit on the ground. I remained handcuffed and chained by the legs.
As he made me sit, he started punching me on the head with fists and kicked me all over the body with his military boots, saying he wanted me to die, because I was wasting his time.
My body was stiff, dry and cold like a stone and at one time I could not lift my legs, as my whole body was badly swollen. That kind of harsh treatment had strengthened my resolve to die with my secrets at the hands of my enemy.
My entire body felt like it was on fire. My life was valueless compared to what I was protecting, my supporting network and other clandestine activities I was involved in since the first day I crossed the border into Namibia.
At around 07h00, Smith took me into the torture chamber for further interrogation by Du Plessis. On Du Plessis’s instruction, Smith tied me to a steel chair. Thereafter Du Plessis poured cold water on me before he started asking me his usual questions.
This time, he warned me that he would kill me if I continued telling the same ‘shit’. Later, Du Plessis and Smith left the room for a while, leaving me alone still tied to the chair. He came back with the two white sergeants to continue torturing me. Without saying a word, they took up their positions waiting for further instructions from Du Plessis. This time I was not blindfolded.
Later he told me that he was no longer prepared to listen to the ‘shit’ I had been telling him. He continued telling me that he was a soldier who took an oath to kill his enemy, hence would not waste his time asking me the same questions repeatedly. Moments later, he asked me whether I was a Christian or a communist.
I said I am a Christian. Again, he asked me whether I wanted to go to heaven or hell when I die. I said I want to go to heaven.
Du Plessis then ordered the two soldiers to move closer to me in order to kill me. Du Plessis later asked me to tell him where I had hidden my weapons, the names of the people who had been giving me food and other assistance and why I blew up the electricity poles. Without formerly agreeing that I was a ‘terrorist’, I told Du Plessis that I did not have a gun, as I left it with the comrades who escorted me into Namibia.
As the soldiers continued with their beatings, I howled in pain with screams that pierced the wintry skies. While I was in excruciating agony, Du Plessis laughed in amusement and urged my tormentors on, shouting, “beat him, beat him” until I grew numb to the pain and stopped screaming.
“You terrorist bastard, I told you that I’m a murderer, but you think I’m joking,” Du Plessis screamed in a fit of rage. He then asked whether I knew Mbulunganga, Zulu, Dimo and Kafindeko, to which I responded in the affirmative. All these were senior commanders in PLAN.
Du Plessis continued telling me that I was a ‘terrorist’ and his enemy who deserved to die. He said, “I am giving you the last chance to answer my questions correctly.” He then repeated his old questions from a small paper. I responded with the same answers I had given before.
Unsatisfied with what I told him, Du Plessis ordered my tormentors to put me down on the ground on my back, cover my head with a cloth and pour water. I felt as if I was drowning because I could hardly breathe. In fact, I was breathing in the water until I fell unconscious again.
Later I found myself lying on a board in one of the tents, covered with a heavy blanket. One soldier was sitting at the entrance of the tent with a firearm in his hand. I was so weak I could not move my arms. I lay in that tent until sunset.
Smith brought me some milk and two slices of bread. He told me to eat, but I refused. Later he called the woman who had treated me the last time I was in hospital. When the woman came, she started feeding me with her hands – forcing me to swallow the bread and milk.
I ended up vomiting for almost 30 minutes. After vomiting, I felt better, but very hungry and weak to say the least. In the evening, Smith again took me to the poles for my usual vigil.
He tied me to the pole, as he usually did before he started pouring cold water on me. He again reminded me that he would kill me if I continued to be uncooperative. Smith urged me to tell the truth, because they were tired of listening to my ‘shit’.
That night Smith visited me twice, mainly to check whether I was still alive or not and to pour more cold water over my body. As usual, he came back once again around 04h00 to untie me and make me sit on the ground, apparently to rest. This was the time I used to sleep before my torturer, Du Plessis, arrived at about 07h00 to continue his interrogation.
On day three, Du Plessis only arrived at around 11h00, accompanied by a well-dressed white man who was a bit polite to me. This man walked directly to me and greeted me in English before checking my swollen body with wounds all over. He later asked how I felt before he urged me to cooperate with the authority.
While standing there, he called Du Plessis to take me into one of the tents for further questioning by him. I could hear this white man complaining in Afrikaans why I was beaten up like that. Again, before Du Plessis left the tent, he warned me to tell the truth, because he was apparently not satisfied with what I told him previously. Du Plessis left me alone without anyone guarding me as they normally did. However, I was still in chains and handcuffs.
The white man only came back an hour later. He was wearing a black suit and white shoes. Mr Dice accompanied him to assist with translation in case I could not follow well. Before he opened his briefcase, he once again asked whether I needed treatment, as apparently I looked very weak. I only nodded my head instead of answering him. This man later told me that I was a prisoner of war, hence I needed to answer all the questions that he would ask me correctly.
He then took a list of questions almost similar to the ones asked by Du Plessis and the rest of his group. He wanted to know my personal details, where I was born, when I joined SWAPO, my training background, my battle experience, how many people I killed since I joined SWAPO and who they were, who were my commanders, the areas where I operated in and my current mission in Namibia.
He asked for the names of the people who had been helping me with accommodation and food, which areas I visited since I came into the country and how I used to move from one area to another.
He wanted to know where I hid my weapons, where PLAN fighters used to hide and who gave them food, whether I was the one who blew up the electricity poles, where I hid mines and other explosives, and how I used to travel back to Angola and other auxiliary questions.
These were the main questions I had gone through before. It appeared he was using a list of questions compiled earlier on, as these were the same questions Du Plessis and other interrogators had asked me.
After tactically answering all the questions just as I had answered them previously, he looked disappointedly into my eyes. Suddenly, he stood up, saying no wonder I was beaten up like that. Since he did not believe in beating war prisoners, he started waging psychological warfare, threatening me with death and untold suffering ahead if I continued giving unsatisfactory answers.
Later, he started burning my arms with cigarettes and twisting my arms and ears aggressively. Suddenly all politeness disappeared. Before he left, he tore up his notes, saying he could not carry lies. He also promised that he would come back to deal with me, but that was actually his last visit.
Smith later brought me some food: cooked vegetables, two slices of brown bread and a cup of milk, and warned me that they would get the truth out of me later.
* The book is available at the Book Den near Polytechnic of Namibia in Windhoek, Etunda Filling Station in Otavi, Omuthiya Filling Station, Okapana Filling Station in Ondangwa, Highway Filling Station (Selector) Ongwediva, Spar Shop Ongwediva, Book of Namibia in Ondangwa, Oshakati and Outapi, Hosea Kutako International Airport and at Bush War Publication in Durban, South Africa.