In the months before going into exile
IN the days after the uprising, two armed CID policemen were employed to follow me. Their plans were to find me alone, interrogate me and then shoot me on the pretence that I was running away from them. OPO members volunteered to guard me 24 hours a day, even in my house. That protection saved me.
We also learned from a worker employed by the Lutheran Church that there was a meeting at Pastor Diel’s house attended by the Chief of the CID, the Commander of Police, the Chief Native Commissioner and other officials. The meeting was called, with their puppets such as Ananias Shipena, who were members of the Old Location Advisory Board, to plan how to deal with the situation in the Old Location. Shipena told his bosses that if they wanted politics to stop in South West Africa, they must first remove this young man, Sam Nujoma.
“He is everywhere, he organises the people and is very effective. He must be removed.”
Again I was in danger of being deported to the north, where like Comrade Ya Toivo, I would have been placed in detention at Chief Kambonde’s residence at Okaloko. But I found a lawyer to defend me, and once again they failed to arrest and deport me, as they had also failed to do the previous August.
On 15 December 1959, I was served with a deportation order, as was Bathlomeus Shimbama. I was accused of inciting violence and hatred against the whites and of being an undesirable person in the Police Zone.
Employers had already been warned not to employ Sam Nujoma as he was considered to be a dangerous person for the future of white people in the country. My lawyer, Lucian Goldblat of the lawfirm Block and Co., told me that he could do little to defend me as a black person in court, since the law of this country did not recognise a black person as a human being.
Thus a black person could not be tried in accordance with the law. I was his client, so he did appear for me on 30 December 1959. The magistrate simply said, “Your case has been withdrawn.”
I left the court only to be re-arrested on the same charge. I was taken again to the police station and had to pay bail of 10 pounds. On 10 January 1960 I appeared again and again the case was withdrawn. I was served with deportation orders for a third time.
From 27 to 31 December 1959, Chief Kutako’s house, mine and others were surrounded by the police and searched for documents.
They first came to my house before dawn, waking us up and frightening our small children. My wife’s young sister, who was staying with us, bravely went out as if to fetch water from the common tap, taking my papers with them to Aaron Hamutenya to hide.
So the police got nothing from my house. Elsewhere, letters from Michael Scott and Kerina, as well as petitions to the UN – which were anathema to the Boers – were taken, some of which came to be used by police in the Court of Inquiry, which began on 11 January 1960. I was among many people who had been rounded up and accused of organising the uprising. OPO hired the law company of Tambo and Mandela in Johannesburg.
As we had told the UN, when Oliver Tambo flew to Windhoek he was held up at the Eros Airport by Native Commissioner Blignaut, because the magistrate did not want to be confronted by a black lawyer, and Tambo was deported back to South Africa the next day.
We brought food to him at the airport. Later on, advocate van Niekerk was sent from Johanneburg to defend us. He was an effective lawyer.
He squashed the case after a very lengthy trial. Now in February 1960, the case had already cost us 125 pounds, a very great deal of money at that time.
We realised that we were spending too much money and getting nowhere, so it was decided that I had to get out of the country, to reinforce Kozonguizi, Kerina and the Reverend Michael Scott in their petitioning at the UN.
The decision was taken by both OPO and the Herero Chief’s Council, and OPO provided me with 500 pound sterling to cover the expenses of my journey to New York. We knew this would be a hazardous and roundabout affair, as I had no passport.
I was technically still on trial and I would have to jump bail and travel through countries that were still British colonies. At the time it was decided I would leave for New York, we still trusted that the UN would assist us to achieve freedom.
I had already spoken for OPO by petitioning in writing, together in a broad front with Chief Samuel Witbooi of the Namas, Chief Hosea Kutako and the Herero Chief’s Council. Now I should petition at the UN itself.
My objective was to achieve the removal of the South African colonial administration, and the placement of South West Africa under the United Nations trusteeship system, so that while under UN trusteeship our preparation for self-determination and independence could be achieved.
We took it for granted that our petitions would be effective and that the UN would assist us towards self-determination and genuine independence.
However, much disappointment and frustration were to follow. I said goodbye to my wife and small children, whom OPO had undertaken to support during what we thought would be my one or two year absence. I had a final meeting with Chief Hosea Kutako on 26 February 1960.
We had been meeting very frequently before that, so at the end he merely gave me his blessings and told me that I must be prepared to be away for a very long time and if necessary not to come back until South West Africa had won genuine freedom and independence.
Chief Hosea Kutako was right, for the two years I thought I would be absent stretched in the end to 29 years before I was able to come back and play my leadership role in ensuring the creation of a free and independent Namibia.
I commenced my long journey on the morning of 29 February 1960. I was driven from Windhoek Old Location to Gobabis by Johannes Karuaihe, who was going to Otjinene and Epukiro.
From Gobabis we then continued after midnight to the border between South West Africa and British Bechuanaland Protectorate. I was given a lift in the truck, driven by a man named Stanley, who was originally from South West Africa, but was then living in Bechuanaland. Around midnight, Stanley dropped me near Kanaindo, about 20 km from the border post. I went on foot until I had to crawl under the border fence into the British Bechuanaland Protectorate.
Thus on 1 March 1960, I found myself for the fist time beyond the reach of our South African oppressors.
Ahead of me were many British colonial territories to pass through, before reaching Dar-es-Salaam in Tanganyika, which was then still one year away from independence.