Our daughter Lyndi at twenty three was tall and dark and young and lovely. She was at the Heidelberg Tavern, Observatory, Cape Town on the evening of 30 December 1993. She was completing the last six months of a Civil Engineering degree and was spending time with university friends discussing the new year. A year of great promise for her and for her beloved country South Africa, since the first ‘free and fair’ democratic elections were scheduled for April 1994.

A hail of AK 47 gunfire ended her life and dreams. She had no time to debate the reasons for the PAC (Pan Africanist Congress) wanting ‘Whites’ to suffer as ‘Blacks’ had suffered under Apartheid. She had often wept at the inequity, injustices and discrimination against Blacks which she had encountered through the media and in her short ‘real life’ experiences.

As parents we struggled to come to terms with our loss, and who might have done this nightmarish thing. Had Lyndi been targeted or was it a random act? Why the Heidelberg? when it was known to be a student ‘hang-out’ with a multicultural patronage. Why should this have happened to our family? Was God sending us a direct message? How could we respond appropriately to an invisible perpetrator? It was a time of deep agony for my husband, myself and our son Anthony.

As time went by the newspapers pieced together the information for us, linking the Heidelberg massacre to the St James Church killings in the preceding July and a further link was made to Apla (Azanian peoples liberation army) the military wing of the PAC, although this was initially denied by that organisation.

The criminal trial in December 1994 returned us to the scene of the crime, with a viewing of the police video showing Lyndi’s beautiful body lying twisted and bloody on the tavern floor with two other young women. The agony returned, yet with it empathy for the three young defendants (Humphrey Gqomfa, Vuyisile Brian Madasi and Zola Mabala), Xhosa speaking men whose stoic faces betrayed nothing except flashes of anger and eyes that appeared bewildered and sometimes sad. They refused to enter the witness stand which I interpreted as a dilemma about revealing who had masterminded the operation. The evidence against them was overwhelming and they were sentenced to long prison terms. During the trial I sent them a message through the Court Translator saying that “I forgave them if they were guilty or felt guilty”.

In retrospect I acknowledge that I was comfortable forgiving them, at that point, because as a Christian I had the role-model before me of Christ forgiving his murderers, yet at the same time depending on the law to avenge my loss. In the Western World we seem to have handed our right to revenge over to the law. Perhaps that is why we feel cheated when the law does not deal ‘justly’ with criminals and give them what we perceive to be their just deserts. At that time I remember feeling some confusion about the issue of forgiveness in relation to the role of the law.

At the TRC (Truth and Reconciliation Commission) Hearing (October 1997 – January 1998) the issues of forgiveness and revenge were again raised in my thinking. I reinforced that my forgiveness was still valid and that their request for amnesty would not be opposed by me. I understood that they would likely be granted amnesty. This time their testimony was given freely and with plenty of vociferous support from their ‘significant others’. They emphasised that their crime had been politically motivated and furthermore, the crime had been committed within the extended time period granted by the State for consideration of amnesty. They did also add that they were sorry although this was not a criterion required for the granting of amnesty, nor was their sorrow apparent from their now happy faces.

My sense at that time was that the potential for peace in SA rested squarely on amnesty for perpetrators on both sides of the political spectrum, Freedom Fighters and the Apartheid State military. Although it seemed unfair for killers to go free, the possibility of civil war seemed like an even poorer option. Personally I had not felt responsible for the perpetration of GHRV (gross human rights violations) on either side, and thus had a sense of political manipulation, this sense occurs often. Politics was a field which I neither understood, nor wished to participate in, in any way. However I do now have a sense of guilt for not finding out more and attempting to do something about it, during Apartheid.

The three young men asked to speak to me at the conclusion of the Hearings. They thanked me and said that they would take the message of forgiveness and hope to their communities and to their graves, whether they received amnesty or not. I was touched by their response and listened to the hurt and pain which may have caused their acts of violence targeted at ‘white’ people. They said that since the elections they were no longer angry with ‘Whites’ and that their ancestors had told them that violence was no longer necessary. However they would welcome counselling, particularly with us as survivors in order for true reconciliation to take place. I found that an extremely insightful possibility. Following the TRC Hearings I met with Archbishop Tutu in order to find out if counselling was available for perpetrators as it had been offered to us as survivors. Unfortunately this was not so, however the leaders of the political parties at the time gave me to believe that they were interested in bringing about such counselling for the members of their parties who had been involved with GHRVs. To my knowledge this has not taken place up to the present. Amnesty was granted to the perpetrators of the Heidelberg massacre in August 1998.

As I have grappled with the meaning of forgiveness and how it relates to the law and to reconciliation I have discovered some interesting concepts and have put them together in an eclectic definition of forgiveness. This is not meant to be a final word, but rather a dynamic and deepening understanding which resonates with my personal experience. I share this definition in order to hear if anyone else has had a similar experience.

Emotions may still be very impassioned at the point of forgiveness, but somewhere previously experienced generosity of spirit which has proffered forgiveness to the offended, invokes empathy for the offender and makes it a cognitive choice to respond creatively. In giving up ones justifiable right to revenge, and in communicating this to the offender empathy and acceptance become evident and the offender’s humanity is restored (self worth restored and guilt reduced), whether he/she responds positively or immediately or not at all. In restoring another’s humanity, ones own (offended’s) humanity is also restored and with it, the potential for emotional healing; restored self worth and a sense of peace. There may always be sadness about the violation of ones human rights, the unfairness of the way one was treated, but potentially hate, fear and anger which seem to be the instigators/triggers of revenge can be assuaged.

The process may commence by the offender apologising or attempting to compensate as required in the Jewish tradition,or by punishment as in the Islamic tradition, in which case empathy may then be evoked by the offender, thus setting the process in motion. The Christian understanding differs markedly in that the principled decision to give up ones justifiable right to revenge, has been modelled by Jesus Christ on the cross “Father forgive them for they know not what they do” and may occur as the impetus to the process. This forgiveness consciously works towards reconciliation in the case of former friendship, and conciliation where the offender was previously unknown or not a friend.

Reconciliation/conciliation depend on the response of the offender to forgiveness, and then again on whether the offended wishes to deepen the connection and communication. My present sense about the legal aspect of dealing with offenders, is that the law remain a guardian and protector of society and should not be confused with personal forgiveness. However in bringing justice to bear it should be in restorative ways, through paying back to the community a debt, rather than by punitive measures which tend to dehumanise further. This may be difficult and costly, but may be the only way to model the protection of human rights – rather than perpetuate human rights violation.

In October 2002 I met Letlapa Mphahlele, the former Commander of Apla (Azanian peoples liberation army), the military wing of the PAC. He invited me to his home-coming ceremony in Seleteng (Limpopo Province) and asked me to speak at the occasion. I apologised to his people for the shame and humiliation which my ancestors had brought on them through slavery, colonialism and apartheid. I made the link between shame, humiliation and violence and that they can teach us to dance to the rhythm of Africa by sharing what we are feeling, particularly fear of each other, anger or sadness. Vulnerable feelings when expressed to each other have the potential to establish lasting bonds and may overcome the violence and corruption which oppresses us all at the moment. Domination and war have done nothing for us in the short or long term.. Letlapa responded by thanking me for coming to his ceremony which he saw as an act of courage and a demonstration that the war is over. However he intoned that conciliation does not happen in a day and that the poverty and landlessness of his people needs to be corrected before conciliation can be thought accomplished.

As a result of this meeting we are committed to working together to further conciliation in South Africa through the Lyndi Fourie Foundation . Support of any kind would be welcomed and very much appreciated, see the Mission Statement link and select which project you would like to support. This experience has profoundly affected my life. As the tenth anniversary of Lyndi’s death approaches I have taken early retirement from my 18 years as a Physiotherapy Lecturer at the University of Cape Town in order to devote what is left of my working years to promote in every way possible an understanding of the ‘other’ in South Africa. This includes the tragedy of the Anglo-Boer war and its unreconciled aftermath, where we are still shadow-boxing the ghosts of the past. What a privilege to experience conciliation of this magnitude and as a result to work for the restoration of justice, peace, and conciliation for us all, the peoples of South Africa.

Ginn Fourie