CINA

We were told there was going to be change at our school, that we would do maths and geography in Afrikaans. We were surprised, and the teachers weren't pleased about it. That winter in 1976 we thought, let's see what the first term is like. We did the first term tests, and they were disastrous.

The African National Congress and Pan- Africanist Congress were banned at the time but sometimes we would discuss the issue together and eventually they told us there would be a demonstration on June 16. Obviously everyone was thrilled.

The night before, we were so anxious, trying to come up with some banners that would have a big impact. We didn't have many, though "to hell with Afrikaans" was one example. We didn't want to tell our parents.

The day itself started normally, there was no sign of anything. Every day there would be an assembly, and we would be there singing and praying. While we were praying I saw students from Morris Isaacson high school.

I was excited but because we were praying I had to restrain myself. They were singing and chanting, they put us in the mood. Soon we threw our books down and got out our placards. Everyone was waving and singing in the streets of Soweto.

Our leader told us that the police were around the school and emphasised that we weren't to provoke them, otherwise the mission would not be fulfilled. As I was having a discussion with my friends, "bang", there was a shot. We had never thought there would be violence and we ran amok in confusion, hiding ourselves in nearby houses. Later on, when it was calm, we sneaked out again. It was like hide and seek - as soon as we heard shots, we'd hide and then when it calmed down, we came out.

I told my brother to stay next to me while I figured out how we could get home. While I was talking to him there was another shot. We ran back into hiding. When I emerged, Hector wasn't there. I said to myself maybe, because he is young, he is still hiding. The best thing to do, I thought, was to wait there, where I was talking to him, so that when he emerges, he will find me. Meanwhile, students were gathering at a scene. I wanted to go and see but couldn't because I was still waiting for Hector. But when I looked closer, I saw him there with the crowd, as if he was fetching something from them, because he was very tall. I was anxious. I could see the body frame and then I saw blood coming from his mouth. I tried to let them know that this was my brother: I have been waiting for him, can't you see he is hurt? We ran to the clinic, but we could see he was finished.

There and then I understood he was dead.

I tell myself now that I have forgiven but I won't forget. It's a part of me I cannot run away from, but I want to move forward in life. I always say those who died did not die in vain. Obviously there are going to be a few hiccups before we get there, but we are now in a process and I am hoping for the best. If we come together as we did in 1976, singing one song, South Africa will be the best country.

Trevor Ngwane, 47
Organiser of the Soweto Electricity Crisis Committee

On June 16 1976, I was still in school in KwaZulu Natal and the protest was a big thing. There was no television at that time, but we heard about it from newspapers. It was frontpage news, and it influenced our own school because a few months later we had some strikes. We had certain grievances as students; we got expelled, went home, had to reapply, so it touched us, it touched me.

Some of the things that the children of 1976 died for and made sacrifices for have not been fulfilled. For example, our education system still leaves a lot to be desired. We have a two-tier education system - private schools and public schools - which is in a bad state.

So you find parents spending money, bussing children into town to get a better education. Universities and colleges are also expensive. Those issues that inspired the students to fight have not been addressed.

In my opinion, anything is better than apartheid. But in socio-economic terms, the situation for the majority of people has worsened. Unemployment, for example, has risen above 40%, which is very high. At the height of apartheid there was almost full employment! Also, when we got our independence in 1994, we had a housing backlog of about a million houses. We had to build a million units. Today our backlog is 3.5 million, which means more people are short of a place to sleep. Ordinary people say, although perhaps to offend the government, that it was better under apartheid. Of course it couldn't have been, but if you compare what we are fighting for, our ideals, and what we are receiving, then certainly we are getting a very raw deal.

In socio-economic terms to compare the black population now and in 1976 - are they worse off? What proportion is better/worse off? I think that is the real issue, as there is a lot of inequality now. Ten per cent are professionals who are OK, maybe another 20% have jobs perhaps in the retail sector, but according to government statistics, 30% of families don't have any kind of income. Research about five years ago showed that the average family income in Soweto is about 1,250 rand (£100), which is pathetic. What's happening is what's occurring in broader South African society; a few are getting the benefits and a few are optimistic, a few see opportunities and can make use of the new openings, but the majority are stuck, even paralysed - they don't know how to find a way out. That's the real problem.

I believe this is a period we have to go through in South Africa. I am certainly optimistic. People don't only learn from books or political speeches and church sermons, they also learn from their own experiences. Slowly but surely people are realising they have to stand up and organise themselves for things to get better. But this isn't an automatic response. People can become xenophobic, blaming Mozambicans, but from what I've seen and from the campaigns that we've fought, I am optimistic

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Andrew Lekalakala, 51
Teacher at Morris Isaacson school, where pupils gathered on June 16

On June 16, I was in the fifth form. We had meetings at night with other schools talking about how to protest. We met here at this school. Since the arrests of the ANC leaders, the atmosphere wasn't quite normal and we were afraid of being arrested. I wasn't one of the leaders, I was just told what to do.

We decided to march to the police station, to complain about Afrikaans. Then we would march to Pretoria. Morris Isaacson was the meeting place. Many schools met there; our aim was to march to Orlando Stadium.

We were going to show these white people that we could also fight. We went to meet our leaders at Morris Isaacson - they were advising us on what moves to make. They used the term "black power" very strongly, and we sang the slogan. We sang songs insulting the then prime minister (John Vorster): "Vorster's wife doesn't bear children, when she bears children, she bears mice. When Mandela's wife bears children, she bears comrades."

Unfortunately, when we arrived at Orlando, the police stopped us. I think someone told the police we were marching to Orlando Stadium, and when we arrived they were already there. They blocked us there, and that was where Hector Peterson was shot. We saw many bodies.

We ran from Orlando back to Mufulo with police behind us. There was tear gas everywhere. From that day, there was no peace in Soweto. The next day, we burnt everything that belonged to the apartheid government and we didn't attend school all year. This spread from Soweto up to Cape Town, all over South Africa.

We wanted to leave the country but some of our parents refused. We all wanted to join MK (Umkhonto we Sizwe - the armed wing of the ANC) and fight back. Most of our friends crossed, but some - like me - remained here. We struggled, we never stopped until 1994. We even stopped women going to clinics to get contraceptives because we wanted them to bear more children, we wanted more soldiers, no more abortions. We wanted to replace those that were being killed.

In 1979 when Morris Isaacson re-opened, I started to teach there. We had a different calendar from the whites, but we were told when the whites opened, we would open and when they closed we would close. Usually we'd close before June 16, and when we were supposed to open we were told to wait for the whites, so their holidays were longer.

Many pupils now don't take the anniversary seriously, they can't believe something like this happened. Only a few ask questions about it. Most don't care about it, they just go to the festival. Because our students now get everything free, they don't really utilise the opportunities they are given by the government. Under apartheid we were given two opportunities, either become a teacher or a policeman - no other professions.

If you look at our library, it is empty. The government is slow to provide funds but there has been a little bit of change. We are still not up to the standards of the whites. There are children who live in Soweto yet go to white schools and they do so because of resources. It's not because they teach better than us - they have computers, televisions, everything. We want the government to see that our schools are the same as the whites'. I give it five years for everything. (The Guardian, 6.16)

Please read more here:

Inequality still burdens South Africa 30 years after landmark revolt

About the background of the uprising(Wikipedia)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soweto_Riots

The following pics were made by the S. African photographer Peter Magubane at the day of the uprising: