Deadly blast still reverberates in people's memories
There's nothing in the Londoner Bar to indicate that it was once the scene of a notorious Struggle-era attack. But locals who remember the Magoo's bombing |have mixed feelings about how far South Africa has come since that fateful day 25 years ago, writes Sinegugu Ndlovu
Asterix and Obelix cartoons above the bar counter grab your attention as you enter. While you might be fooled into thinking this is a hangout where you might get away with bad behaviour, a sign behind the barman strictly prohibits swearing.
Within spitting distance of the sea on Durban's beachfront, the sun-drenched pub in the Parade Hotel has a relaxed vibe; it is the perfect spot to enjoy a drink in peace.
You would hardly think the Londoner Bar, formerly called Magoo's, is where three women died and at least 69 people were injured by the infamous car bomb placed by Robert McBride on June 14, 1986.
Tourists who have stayed in the hotel and written about their travel experiences online are seemingly oblivious to the history.
There is no sign commemorating those who died in the bombing, and visitors appear more concerned about the state of their accommodation and the crime rate in the area.
One of the patrons at the Londoner Bar yesterday, Kenyan holiday-maker Tom Kiptanni, was also unaware of the bombing 25 years ago.
Another patron, who only wanted to be known as Fritz, said he remembered that fateful day. Although he was not a regular at Magoo's 25 years ago, he's among the regulars now. He said he believed things had changed for the better in South Africa and "we've moved forward".
Fellow patron Jabulani Dlamini, who moved to Durban from Mpumalanga more than two years ago, said he had heard of the bombing for the first time yesterday.
On how far we had come as a nation since then, he said: "We still have problems.
There is still a lot of hatred and mistrust between us black and white South Africans."
He blamed politicians, who he said were "not helping the situation". "There's a difference between hate speech and teaching people about the past. Politicians must learn better ways of teaching us about the past," he said.
"I don't think black and white people will ever fully trust each other, because no one will forget what the one did to the other. We will learn to accommodate and tolerate each other, but no more than that."
The bomb was placed in a blue Cortina outside Magoo's Bar and the Why Not restaurant (now a Soukop Property Group office), which McBride believed was frequented by soldiers and policemen. But it was civilians who were killed and injured.
Stephen Jiran, whose now deceased father owned Magoo's, remembers the attack.
Now a director of the Londoner, he said he was still saddened by the bombing. "It happened at night and I remember going down there in the morning with my father," he said.
"I didn't go inside because there was danger tape but you could see the damage. I saw all the windows had been blown out, there was a lot of glass everywhere,"
Jiran disputes that the bar was a hangout for soldiers and police. "I can remember going there as a teen one night. We didn't see any military presence. That might have been the defence (during Mcbride's trial), but 99.9 percent of people there were civilians. It's very sad that someone decided to kill other people. No matter the circumstance, I wouldn't recommend it. It's a good thing that Durban has changed. It is a multiracial city and a great tourist destination," he said.
Umgeni Heights resident Ian Lindsay, 51, who owned Garfunkels Restaurant behind Magoo's, said he had to close down as a result.
"Magoo's was at the corner and my restaurant was behind it. There was a dry wall between the two," he said.
"The blast shattered everything that was glass in my restaurant. The lights, windows - everything was destroyed. I went to dinner with my wife on the night of the bombing. It was the first time I had taken a day off. When I got home, my parents said I must go there."
Lindsay said the bombing destroyed his business, which had been one of the most popular places in Durban at the time. After the bombing, no one wanted to go back there.
"The owner (of the hotel) didn't want to fix the windows. The whole hotel wasn't fixed for six months because he wasn't covered insurance-wise. It wiped me out financially; I had to look for a job as a hotel manager," he said.
"I had invested everything in that business. Of course I'm still angry. I was never able to get back to the standard I was in back then."
25 years after the bloodbath, the bitterness lingers
Bronwyn Fourie
If it had not started raining on the night of June 14, 1986, or if the Magoo's car bomb had exploded a few minutes earlier, the fatalities and casualties would probably have been more.
So says 79-year-old Brian Newby-Fraser, as he sadly recalls the events of that fateful night 25 years ago on the Durban beachfront.
Still bearing the physical and mental scars, Newby-Fraser tells how a group of young people lounging around outside the bar in the vicinity of a blue Cortina had only 10 or 15 minutes earlier taken refuge from the rain.
"There was even a guy, who I think was the young Asian newspaper seller, leaning against the car. A man, who I believe was McBride, shouted at him to get off."
The bitterness associated with the bombing is still there a quarter of a century later.
"Apartheid was already on its way out, and at that pub there was no political bias. It was mainly sporting youngsters who were there, and it wasn't the sort of place where people drank too much and became unruly, or spoke about political issues or made racial remarks. So what happened was just too terrible."
A then 54-year-old Newby-Fraser found himself at Magoo's that evening with a companion after watching the rugby match between Natal and the Free State.
"We were seated by the doorway into a passage way, and had a large column behind us. I sat with my back to it. I had just finished my beer when the bomb went off and I immediately said 'that's a bomb.'"
Speaking from his Morningside home, he said he was struck by a mirror and a piece of his lip was cut off and his ear was "shredded pretty badly".
"I think dropping my head saved my life. The glass from the window sliced into the lady next to me. There was just blood everywhere."
A second explosion then occurred, which Newby-Smith said was from the car's petrol tank. His friend, Mary Haffen, picked him up and threw him outside.
"I have never seen so much blood in my life. They were laying people out on the island, and the Free State rugby team doctor was helping attend to them."
Newby-Smith recalls a humorous moment amid the chaos and horror.
"The chap who sewed me up was going to sew my lip together near my nose, I would have had a harelip.
"But another doctor came and stopped him, saying that I needed a skin graft and plastic surgery, which I had two weeks later by taking skin from my hip.
"The first doctor then apologised to me and said he was actually a gynaecologist."
Newby-Smith says his only grief now is that Robert McBride "still walks around doing terrible things".
He believes the bombing turned many young white people, who before that had no real political convictions, into racists, and that the incident caused a "great deal" of resentment.
"It was a young crowd there. I think the three girls who were killed had just come back from playing squash... The target was ill-chosen.
"If he (McBride) had driven a kilometre or two down the road, he could have put the bomb outside Natal Command."
Newby-Smith carried on with his life after the bombing as best he could, treating his injuries, taking painkillers and running an industrial painting company.
Although he and his companion that evening remained close friends, he never remarried. She died about 15 months ago.
Newby-Smith says he does not have anything too positive to say about South Africa today.
"I read the papers every day, and am concerned about what the future holds. Should Mike Sutcliffe stay (on as city manager) or go, and will Mr Shaik have his handicap reduced on the golf course?
"Look, South Africa is still a very nice country to live in, but you have to be very circumspect about it… We have also lost a lot of people from this country due to things that have happened, like the bombing. But I am too old to go anywhere. I keep busy doing bits and pieces on my house.
"All I want to say is that here I am, one old fart who lives on despite what McBride did."
Blast victim took many years to let go of the anger and resentment
Bronwyn Fourie
Staring out of the Why Not restaurant window with her freshly made Irish coffee, 33-year-old Lorraine de la Rosa watched as a man "fiddled in his car".
It was a Saturday night. June 14, 1986. Unbeknown to her it was Robert McBride, the mastermind behind the infamous car bomb. A short while later it would tear through Why Not and the neighbouring Magoo's Bar, killing three people, injuring dozens more, and blowing off her stomach.
"It was close to 10pm. We had all been to rugby, and there was always a nice atmosphere… I was looking out of the window, watching the man, and then saw another car quickly pull off. The man then ran away from the car and not long after that, as I was about to take a sip of my Irish coffee, the bomb went off."
Immediately after the explosion there was dead silence and then the screams of fear.
She ran out of the restaurant, collapsing near the Edward Hotel.
"Army guys who arrived to assist asked me what was wrong. I said that I did not know. But I was bleeding, and when they lifted my shirt, they saw that my stomach had been blown away."
After three operations, including plastic surgery reconstruction on her stomach, and seven months in hospital, De La Rosa was finally discharged from hospital.
She returned to her Wild Coast restaurant and coffee shop, only to find that the business had collapsed during her absence.
It would take a Truth and Reconciliation Commission hearing, and many years of resentment and fear before De La Rosa would be able to put the incident behind her.
"We went through hell with the TRC," she said.
"It was very emotional and we had to hear a lot of terrible things from both sides. We met Robert McBride and got to shake his hand. But he was not a remorseful person. He said to me that when the guys put on their uniforms, they were the enemy. But back then going to army was compulsory. Our young men had no choice."
De La Rosa sighs: "I can't believe it's been 25 years… I don't think that man has any remorse. I think he's a violent person."
Through the TRC, De La Rosa said she learned a lot about what the National Party government and the ANC were doing, adding that the NP was "just as cruel".
"It made me see things differently. But my anger for Robert McBride is still there, and I cannot believe that he got away with murder."
De La Rosa was also in the Wild Coast Sun Casino in April 1986, where a bomb exploded in the men's toilets, killing two people and resulting in her ears being badly cut.
She says she has let go of all the negativity around the bombings, but it took her many years to do so.
"If someone threw something behind me, I used to just about go off of my head. It was like that for about 10 years before I could let it go."
Although many people ask why the Magoo's Bar and Why Not bombing holds such bitterness for so many people, De La Rosa believes it was because it was the first major bomb aimed at a civilian target.
She said she had lost touch with other victims, including her close friend Helen Kearney, the Why Not barmaid.
De La Rosa said that during the years following the explosion, she never let the incident prevent her from enjoying life. She believed the R30 000 paid out to the victims was not enough, and that the government should look into assisting those who were injured far worse than she was.
McBride stood up for the underdog
His contribution to the struggle made him one of the people whose freedom from prison was negotiated by Nelson Mandela, writes Gomolemo Mokae
"What brought you and Robert McBride together?" is a question I have often faced from folks aware of my previous incarnation as spokesman for the black consciousness orientated Azanian People's Organisation (Azapo). I guess McBride himself has faced such questions from his comrades in the ANC.
The first McBride I got to know was Robert's mother, Doris. I was a medical student at the University of Natal (now University of Kwa-Zulu Natal: Nelson Mandela School of Medicine), and I was also a freelance journalist for a number of newspapers and magazines. One of the articles I wrote was a human interest story about a lady who had a son on death row who was handed three death sentences, and a husband on Robben Island. The son (Robert) was at Pretoria Central Prison's death row and the father (Derrick) was on Robben Island.
Robert had been sentenced to death for, among other military actions against the apartheid regime, having been found guilty of planting a bomb in a popular Durban night spot, also frequented by security forces personnel (according to former barmaid, Helen Kearny, at the TRC). On the other hand Derrick, together with his son Robert and other ANC comrades, had taken part in a spectacular operation to free fellow ANC comrade Gordon Webster from Edendale hospital while under police guard.
Indeed, the Edendale rescue mission had been the strong hook that got me into the McBride story. Here was a family of the oppressed giving up father, son and mother to the struggle for our liberation. Doris was fully aware and supportive of the actions of Derrick and Robert. Doris, under the added pressure of constant police surveillance and detention of herself and daughters Gwyneth and Bonnie, actually suffered a stroke during this period.
Pace magazine, under the editorship of the late Force Khashane, gave me free rein to document the story. I also saw a movie somewhere in the McBride story.
To that end, on the strength of having written and produced three dramas for television (Gaabo Motho, The Secret in my Bosom and Lisenethini - It's a Goal!), I procured funds from the then film desk of the Department of Arts and Culture to research a film on the McBride project. I was privileged to be granted an interview with Tata Nelson Mandela on the role of Robert McBride in our struggle.
"McBride was one of those who risked his life during one of the most difficult periods of our history," he said.
"He was in the forefront. So much so, you remember, that they were sentenced to death. And of course, the death sentence we made illegal. But then, he, and the two others (Mthetheleli Mncube and Mzondeleli Nondula), their sentence was commuted."
In the same interview, Mandela went on to relate how he put his foot down during the negotiations for a free South Africa, so that McBride, Mncube and Nondula should be released.
"I did not want our people to think that, because they are in jail, we have forgotten about them", the statement explained.
"Or that we must have no connections with them. I wanted to go to jail for them to know that we think of them. And, they had done work, and we're going to make sure that they come out.
"That was the reason of going there" (Robert McBride a Coloured Life: G Mokae).
As I indicated earlier on, Robert McBride and I come from different ideological schools in so far as the South African Struggle is concerned.
As a black consciousness exponent it has always been my contention that the reason why a section of white South Africa finds it hard to forgive McBride is because some of his actions led to the loss of white lives.
In our heart of hearts, are we saying the thousands of black victims of apartheid and casualties of bombs planted by guerrillas of the liberation movements are meaningless?
Students of South African politics would know that, because of the bomb he had planted at the Magoos/Why Not bar, Robert McBride became someone a section of our community loved to hate.
So much so that, when the "winds of change" were blowing over our country and political prisoners were being released, there was some resistance in some|quarters to Robert McBride being released. In response to this resistance and as a precondition for the resumption of negotiations, after the collapse of Codesa I, Mandela insisted on the release of McBride: "So I said, 'Get me De Klerk'. So I spoke to De Klerk and I said, 'Look, this meeting is not taking place until you release these three'.
"He says, 'Look, we're prepared to increase the number of ANC people in jail who must be released'.
"I say, 'I welcome that. But that increase must include McBride and the two others'."
While on death row, Robert McBride was also "at the forefront" of the fight against injustice. He collaborated with other death row inmates like Sibusiso "Mantolo" Masuku to make sure that an inmate had exhausted his options to the full extent of the law before he was executed.
Together with Aubrey Lekwane, Paula Leyden, Shucks Sefanyetso and Bryan Currin from the Lawyers for Human Rights, they formed a team which opposed the death penalty and made it unworkable.
This team was pivotal in exposing apartheid death squads by getting Almond Nofomela, a death row inmate, to confess to his role|in a range of hit squad activities|including the brutal murder of|human rights lawyer, Griffiths|Mxenge.
One would have thought that the last place for someone who had beaten death sentences would be defending communities from brutal attacks by apartheid forces and their surrogates in the East Rand. But lo and behold!
What remains imprinted in my mind is the image of McBride protecting ANC leaders, Joe Slovo and Cyril Ramaphosa from Inkatha gunmen in Katlehong, East Rand.
In fact this has been a trajectory of McBride's life - he has consistently exhibited selflessness and commitment in the struggle for freedom. In my interactions with him and his family, I have always been left with the impression of an intensely loyal person who has always been willing to stand up for the underdog.
That's the very epitome of the freedom fighter.
Gomolemo Mokae is a medical doctor, writer and political commentator. He is the author of Robert McBride's biography A Coloured Life.