Beloved broom seller a WWII veteran
Never judge a book by its cover.
Few people are aware that the elderly broom seller of Knysna, ‘Oupa Besem’ is one of only several thousand black South African soldiers who were sent off to fight in the Second World War, and managed against all odds to survive and return home.
After all these years, Matshete Siebert Tubatsi (95) of Joodsekamp, still remembers the three years he spent in Taiwan as a prisoner during those terrible years of WW II, which lasted six years, from 1939 until 1944.
“Every day we buried fellow-prisoners. Most were shot while trying to escape or got sick and died,” Tubatsi still recalls the suffering he managed to survive. “I missed home so much, especially my mother. I would cry and want to go back home to my family. One thing that hurt me most was being beaten for nothing. We were not allowed to even complain; if you did you’d get beaten with a sjambok.”
Born in Limpopo, Tubatsi had a wonderful childhood, going to school and enjoying Mopani worms, mushrooms, fried locusts and pap. His father was a well-known traditional healer in the area.
Tubatsi remembers an incident of a mentally disturbed young man who was running away from home when Tubatsi’s father saw him in the distance. “He took a stick and pointed it in the direction of the young man and called him to come back, without raising his voice. The young man came back immediately and he healed him.”
He also remembers how people used to bring them goats and sheep as thank you gifts after his father had helped them.
“We had meat almost every day at home,” he chuckles at the fond memory. He tells intriguing stories about his father as local healer.
“My father used to go to the river for three days. We would watch him get in the water and sink. After three days he would come out with herbs. My mother, on the other side, took care of us and made sure we attended school.”
His father’s first wife, with whom he had seven children, passed away and he married his second wife, from whom Tubatsi was born as one of eight children from the second marriage.
“There were so many of us,” sighsTubatsi remembering the old times, “All in all there was 15 of us.”
In 1935 Tubatsi dropped out of school after passing Standard 7 (Grade 9) and went to work at a farm for 50c per month. Five years later, in July 1940, he decided to join the army in Tzaneen and they moved to Pretoria.
“My army number was 1194 – I will never forget it as long as I live,” he nods gravely. “In November that year they moved us to Boksburg where we stayed until April 1941. After that we were sent for a training course in Rietfontein Number 11 in Springs.”
The corps spent three weeks there and he was made a captain with two straps, Tubatsi gestures towards his shoulder.
“We went back to Number 11 and I was made sergeant and I was so happy. I was very innocent and had no idea what the future held for us all. ”
In August their company set out for Durban and during their third month there, he remembers that a ship came to take them to war.
“We knew that we were going to war, but we didn’t know how to fight or really understand what it was all about. All we knew was that we wanted to keep the Germans away from our country.
My uncle was also on the ship. Three days into the journey he became very sick and passed on – we dropped him in the ocean,” Tubatsi lets out a long pensive sigh.
“During this trip we played games just to pass time. My favourite game was Morabaraba, which is similar to chess. That was the only game I enjoyed. Most played dominoes. We had fun. Little did we know of what was yet to come. . . ”
According to Tubatsi they were dropped in Switzerland. Two weeks into their training, on a Sunday, the Germans came to their camp and arrested them.
“They made us strip and took our brand new uniforms of which we were very proud and they gave us torn uniforms. Then they took us to another country. A place of much pain. A place I want to forget, but I cannot. Ever.”
It turns out the captured black South African soldiers were taken to Taiwan where they were to spent the next three years in torment. Very few would survive.
“In Taiwan we were treated like slaves, like we were worth nothing,” Tubatsi shudders as he stares out in front of him, his eyes momentarily clouded. “They used to make us pull a wagon like cows – downhill to fetch sand. I was relatively easy when we went down, but going up with wet sand was hell. The weight was almost unbearable. We strained and felt as if our backs would surely snap, but one mistake, one movement out of line and we were severely beaten up.”
He hesitates before continuing his story.
“If you were not ‘ingespan’ to the wagon, you had to polish the major’s shoes and take him to the toilet. You also had to undress him and once he’s done, you had to wipe his behind. You had to do all this with a gun barrel against your scalp.”
He recalls how he was beaten up once, not knowing what he had done wrong.
“I cried. I wanted to go home. I missed my mother.”
They were not allowed to talk back or walk around freely, especially during the week.
“All we ate was spaghetti. Meat was sent for us every Friday, but we had to give it to the guards and bribe them so that they don’t beat us.”
He remembers being grateful that his life became easier after he was assigned the job of ‘bedman’.
“I had to make the officers’ beds. This was a lot easier than the other jobs I did.”
In 1944, General Montgomery and the 8th Army rescued them and sent them back to South Africa.
“It all seemed like a dream. Like it didn’t really happen at all. The war, or that they came to rescue us and that we would be going home. The few of us remaining were very quiet. We were too afraid to wake up and find out that we were still tied up in that concentration camp. We didn’t cry, but we wiped our faces because they were wet when we caught the first glimpse of the continent.”
In 1973 Tubatsi moved to Kareedouw with his second wife, after his first wife had died.
“One day I was going to church in Humansdorp and at a garage I met a man who later became my best friend and brother, Jama Mkatise.” Mkatise lived in Knysna, and after visiting him, Tubasti fell in love with the area and moved here with his family.
His wife as well as two of his five children have since passed away.
Tubatsi now lives with his granddaughter and still goes to the forest himself to cut the reeds from which he makes his brooms.
“When I’m not selling brooms in town, I like to spend my time reading the Bible or visiting with my best friend Mkatise, but memories of the past still often haunt me.”
(‘Oupa Besem’, whose body has taken many beatings, is in need of a new, sturdy double bed to replace his old one. If anyone has one that they would like to donate, kindly contact the Knysna-Plett Herald.)
ARTICLE: ANOESCHKA VON MECK & NWABISA NCUDWANA