It was the first day in May, Labour Day in South Africa, and a new Zulu trade union was to be inaugurated. The Zulus were committed to working out means for peaceful change in South Africa. Much fear had been expressed, however, and police were standing by, because an existing Black trade union, which supported violent change, was holding a rally at a venue within walking distance of the Zulu meeting. Supporters of the two groups had clashed violently in the past.
That afternoon I could see part of the proceedings from our balcony. Eighty thousand Zulus were assembled in the nearby rugby stadium, and the sight was awesome. As I watched, my heart yearned for peace.
Later, I asked a friend, a Zulu woman, the
meaning of the words that had trailed behind
the aircraft.
