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...
.
Thanks for the wonderful tribute about one who was truly one of us. "Death be not proud". May his soul rest in peace 🙏🕊️.
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