Dipping our banners for May Brutus

It is a time of sadness for the friends and admirers of struggle veteran May Brutus. She was a fighter with legendary courage. She died suddenly in London on Saturday at Barnet General Hospital.

Those who knew May will remember a feisty, outspoken and awe-inspiring figure, speaking her mind on racism and injustice wherever she found it. The apartheid regime never banned or jailed May, but she confronted their brutal agents when she visited her late husband Dennis after he was shot in Johannesburg; again when he was imprisoned on Robben Island in 1964, and continuously when he was under house arrest in Shell Street, Port Elizabeth after his release from jail.

Dennis had been shot, was being given oxygen in intensive care, but he was under close guard of security police. Seeing the brazen policemen smoking beside his bed, she chided them and drove them outside the hospital, leaving no room for argument.

Port Elizabeth had a crew of particularly vicious special branch, and they got to know that May was a force who refused entry on their missions of looking for banned material. And she scolded them, saying they should think about their behaviour. Their clumsy arrogance was shocking for children learning and they should show respect rather than barging in and wrecking harmless lives.

The home that May kept in Port Elizabeth sheltered fugitives from the Special Branch, at one stage former President Nelson Mandela took refuge there, whilst mobilizing and campaigning for the resistance movement. Her ready meals, produced few resources sustained late night meetings with the likes of Govan Mbeki, Walter Sisulu, MN Pather.

May followed Dennis into exile in 1966, packing up and shipping a household and seven children would have daunted many, but she set about ensuring that nothing would get in the way of building a better life. Dennis worked tirelessly in his campaigns for the cultural and sporting isolation of white South Africa, and that required the solid stalwart support of May. Joining the local branch of the African National Congress, she fearlessly confronted the conduct of colleagues who dared to underestimate the role of wives and mothers in fundraising and nurturing the social fabric of South Africans in exile in London.

Based at Canon Collins House in London, May played a major part in the “letter” campaign. Countless families whose breadwinner was awaiting trial or in detention or banned and without income all received correspondences from “distant relatives” who were in fact providing support and the means to put food on the table to the needy.If ever you visited Canon Collins House, May was there, larger than life, and keeping everyone on their toes.

May’s house in London remained a source of refuge to your people, from South Africa, but also Australia, New Zealand, Poland, Nigeria, and even Kosovo. Delicious cakes, legendary curries and all sorts of treats flowed from her kitchen throughout the years. Notwithstanding this, May also accompanied Dennis on many of his travels around the world and stood resolutely by him, even when he defied the directives of the liberation movement when his instincts told him to do so.

May was invited to the Presidential Guest House for the memorable reunion of exiles.Her exploits don’t appear in books, but loom large in the memories of those who now pen their memoirs of those dark struggle days.

May started work at the age of fifteen, when her father died; and having lost her own mother at an early age. She worked hard throughout her life, and her children feel blessed to have had her care and comfort in their growing years. She will be terribly missed.

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