We Are Fighting the World. Gary Kynoch

migrants seeking formal-sector employment generally lacked the qualifications to compete for the more prestigious positions open to women, such as nursing and teaching, and were largely confined to factory and cleaning work, but even these positions were closed to foreign migrants after 1963. Consequently, seasonal agricultural labor was virtually the only legal employment available to Basotho women in South Africa.²² Bonner states that by the late 1920s Basotho women dominated the brewing business on the Rand,²³ and the opening of the Free State mines in the 1950s ensured that large numbers of female migrants continued to rely on brewing for their livelihood. Many of these women fell under the dominion of the Marashea.

      Some women did not choose to become Marashea, rather they were kidnapped and coerced into becoming members. Perhaps the majority of women joined voluntarily, but for reasons that often differed from those of male Marashea. These women usually linked up with men who were Lerashea and automatically became part of the group. “My cousin was Lerashea and he stayed with us in the house and I became a friend of Marashea. My cousin was from the Matsieng group. They were dancing in the third house from this one and I met Tsotsi—he proposed and I agreed” (‘Mè RW). Others joined out of desperation: “You are just there [with the Marashea] because you do not have anywhere to stay and you are not even allowed to stay in South Africa. So you just stay there and sell joala” (‘Mè TF). Some women accepted proposals without knowing the man was Lerashea. Once they discovered his identity it was too late to leave the group (‘Mè FD).²⁴ Marashea men frequented the railway stations and taxi ranks to scout for women who had just arrived in the locations. These women often had no place to stay and were susceptible to offers of accommodation (DG).

      Women who joined without being attached to a particular man most often cited the need for protection from criminals and the law as their primary motivation. Independent women were vulnerable to criminal predation, police harassment, and deportation, and association with the Marashea afforded a degree of protection. For example, the men of Marashea ensured that customers honored their debts and women were not robbed, a significant benefit in the crime-plagued townships and informal settlements. Newspaper reports from the Rand confirm oral evidence that criminals and even African municipal police who interfered with Marashea women were subject to retribution. In Dobsonville (Soweto) a gang of seven tsotsis who allegedly molested a female Lerashea was chased into a house by avenging Marashea. “When the gang of seven ignored a challenge to fight it out, the raiders removed the iron roofing, poured petrol inside, and set the house alight. Overcome by smoke, the gang ran out to be thrashed by the Russians. All of them landed in hospital.”²⁵ On the East Rand in 1967 four African police also ended up in hospital following a fight with the Russians resulting from their arrest of female Marashea.²⁶ The hazards of life as an illegal migrant convinced ‘Mè ID to join the Marashea in Carletonville in the 1980s. “In South Africa we were staying illegally because we did not have work permits or residence permits, so I felt afraid. That’s why I joined the Marashea, because Marashea were not deported at all.” Additionally, the group usually paid the fines of women arrested for brewing and other minor offenses.

      Although some women were impressed with the reputation of Marashea, admired their fine clothing, and enjoyed the dances and concerts, it seems that most joined simply because their male partner was Lerashea or as a measure of last resort. ‘Mè ID summarizes the plight of the latter group: “Women still leave Lesotho but it is unusual for a woman to leave knowing or intending to join Marashea. I think for most it is like it was for me. They intend to find jobs but it is very difficult, and then the easiest thing to do is to join the Marashea.”

      ORGANIZATIONAL STRUCTURES

      The Marashea has consisted of dozens of separate groups in the course of its history. These groups have operated largely independently of each other and have been differentiated by composition, leadership, relations with white authorities, size, and the environments in which they carved out a niche. A 1950s group in the urban township of Newclare would necessarily be quite different from a 1990s gang presiding over an informal settlement in the rural Free State. The Marashea has never been a monolithic entity; however, it remains a society linked by national origin, a distinct culture, and a common history. Borashea continues to be recognized as a Sesotho organization. Sesotho culture has played a key role in the identity of the Marashea—language, dress, and some social customs emanated from Lesotho, as did the divide that separated the two main factions. Marashea groups dispersed throughout the Free State and Gauteng have come together for general meetings, celebrations, and funerals and have assisted each other in times of conflict, both with rival factions and outsiders. And, while each group had its own particular character, oral testimony indicates that there was (and remains) a common organizational culture governing hierarchies, rules, and discipline, albeit one that adapted to circumstances and change over time.

      The different groups of Marashea have varied widely in size. A cohort of at least twenty to thirty men was required for a group to be formed, but groups have been much larger and Marashea battles on the Rand sometimes involved several hundred combatants. The key determinants seem to have been the number of Basotho in a given area and proximity to the mines that sustained the groups. An influential morena could attract followers from a large area and establish control over several smaller groups. Solomon Hlalele was one such leader. He commanded the allegiance of most, if not all, Matsieng groups on the Rand in the early 1950s before he was jailed and deported to Lesotho. Other famous marena from both Matsieng and Molapo have established powerful networks in the years since. BM estimates that he rules approximately two hundred male Marashea and more than a thousand women. According to KB, the size and strength of each group was largely dependent on the quality of the morena. Without proper leadership, groups disintegrated. “The strength of Marashea differs from place to place depending on how they organize themselves, especially the morena’s ability to organize them. Another factor is their number, which is also determined by the number of Basotho in the area. If the morena is good many Marashea will join, but if he is not favored many will run away or resign.”

      With a single exception, all informants reported that leaders were elected by the male Marashea. BM is the exception to the electoral rule. He claims he was appointed by his predecessor, who was preparing to retire.

      I was called to Klerksdorp by Ntate Mokhemele, who was morena of the Klerksdorp region, which covers the Free State and Orkney and Klerksdorp. He said he looked all over the area but he could not find a leader among his people who could take his position as he was old and intended to retire. He found me to be the only one who could take his position. He called all marena under him and asked them to elect someone to take his position, but he rejected all their candidates and chose me as the general morena. He called me to Klerksdorp to take his position. He called me together with sixteen men—I was the seventeenth—to take his position as morena of the whole Free State and Klerksdorp. These men became my council and advisors.

      In most cases it seems as if the morena was elected by all the men in the group. In larger groups, senior members sometimes arrived at a decision among themselves, but their decision needed to be confirmed by popular consensus. When Lenkoane, a powerful Matsieng leader in 1960s Soweto, was assassinated in 1963, PL reports that he was chosen morena of the group by the senior strata. “We had lost our brave leader. We had big men like ‘Mako’ Thabane, Menchele, and Nape and an old man whose name I forget. We sat down to discuss who was going to be morena and they appointed me and all Marashea approved this appointment.” The morena usually designated a committee of advisors, including a secretary, a treasurer, and a second-in-command. Each group also had whistle blowers who functioned as sentries and directed fights through different whistle signals. Marena were selected from these senior positions. KI explains: “Morena appoints wise men whom he trusts to work with him as his advisors. When morena dies we call them and put them in front and say, ‘Which one can we put on the seat of morena?’ If the majority agrees on one man, we install him as morena. We make a big feast, we eat and drink joala and dance all sorts of dances.”

      Leaders were elected wholly on the basis of merit. Accomplished strategists and powerful fighters became commanders; royal connections and noble bloodlines in Lesotho carried no weight in the Marashea. HL discusses the qualities that groups looked for and the manner in which marena were expected to rule: “You cannot be morena if you are