Farewell, Comrade Bra Squire, a larger-than-life figure in our memories: LITERALLY OR OTHERWISE

It’s not the reality of Cde Squire's passing that makes us feel this way. It is the lens we are going to use to get to grips with life without him that we should contend with. A literally larger-than-life individual who had one of the most stable and rarest internal loci of control has left us. The thief that death is has struck again. 

Reading the notice with his picture on it made me feel like I could ask him, "O ya kae grootman, re sa go nyaka hierso." In that moment, I also heard him say, "My Bla, mfanakithi, comrade lucky, ere ko khutsa, mmele ga o sa kgona." The dialogue with him without him, and the solace of the private conversations we had, made me agree with his unfair expectation for me to say, vaya ncah my grootman. 

 

The news of his passing brought to bear the truism that death shows us what is buried in us, the living. In his absence, his life will be known by those who never had the privilege of simply hearing him say 'heita bla' as a way of saying 'I see you,' sawubona. The soprano-cum-alto, yet hoarse but not baritone voice and laugh is to be heard no more. He is now of the world beyond ours. If death is not the end of life, he now dwells in the afterlife with all its obligations. 

 

A reader of classics that he was, if he were to have an opportunity to wake up to bid us farewell, he would have quoted Charles Dickens and said, comrades,  "never close your lips to those whom you have already opened your heart"; please remember the people we have given our lives for. He disappeared from several social media platforms where many met and learned from him; there is now a dearth of content.

 

In Comrade Squire, we learnt that humanity's ultimate purpose is not so much to help us die as it is to free up as much life as possible until we do pass on. In him, we found both the length and the depth of his beautiful, soulful life. He is now a lingering melody of a song we listened to for the most time we've had together. He is part of a permanence we will now call our history and background. 

 

He was a warrior for the social and economic justice he fought for, inspiring pride and admiration in those who knew his dedication, even if he never saw it fully realised.

 

Entombed in the annals of the anti-apartheid struggle history and narratives, being one of the unsung heroes behind the creation of the greatest political coalition against apartheid, the United Democratic Front, only truthful pens will have the courage to record him. History has no blank pages.

 

A former unionist, a public service commissioner, a senior bureaucrat, a political education facilitator, a civic leader, an underground operative of the true uMkhonto we Sizwe, and a brother, father, and husband to the end, he will be missed. 

 

He was a leader of our people. The type that does not appear on organisational charts. The one that maintained the broad…deep base of authentic relationships with all strata of society. He led through the relationships he had with those in ranks and positions. He was a minister through ministers, a Premier through premiers, and dare I say, a President through presidents. His influence reached beyond what we can imagine.

 

He chiselled several young men and women into leadership roles. He had a penchant for talent. To him, those with rough edges were an opportunity to be polished. Amid unsavoury stories about Mamelodi, he is a good story to tell about Mamelodi and South Africa. 

 

THE HEALTH SYSTEM FAILED HIM

 

Whilst death is to many a moment, to us who knew what Bra Squire was going through at the hands of our health system, it was a frustrating and urgent reminder of the systemic failures that threaten us all.

 

In its true nature, death is about something failing in our bodies, leading to the entire system shutting down as the inability of our immune system spreads the message to the whole body: "we can't". To him, it was the health system, including its celebrated insurance dimension, that said, “we can't”.

 

As a function of the health system, death is about the health insurance and health care system failing the sick, especially the resource-vulnerable. The system has no respect for your history; it treats you according to set algorithms. As your private medical insurance dries out, you are left to the public health system, whose capability has failed many, including Comrade Squire. 

 

As we pass on, it reveals to us what is buried in the living we leave behind. It tells us about the reality of death as it shares secrets of what happened to those who passed on and were in our control to manage, and arguably could have extended many a life. Had the health system been better, this life would still have had energy for more.

 

HAMBA KAHLE

 

With a heavy heart, we say "heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard heart". It is now a dust-to-dust affair.

With Comrade Squire, it was (always) the best of times, (sometimes) the worst of times, (forever) the age of wisdom, (rarely) the age of foolishness, (argumentatively) the epoch of belief, (humorously) the epoch of incredulity, (ceaselessly) the season of light, (reluctantly) the season of darkness, (repeatedly) the spring of hope. Now that he is gone, it will be the winter of despair."

Metaphorically and literally, a baobab has fallen; the reverberation is louder, the pain bittersweet, and our loss profound. To the family, be comforted, for he remains in our hearts forever.

 

Lala ngoxolo BIG MAN. Hamba Kahle Mkhonto we Sizwe. Sharp Bra Squire, I will dearly miss your courage and thoughts.

uZimu a ni tjhudubaze, Mtungwa...

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