benefit of Borashea, “because in the mine compound life is difficult and very lonely.”
Of course, men joined the group for a combination of reasons. WL, as stated above, joined for personal security, but also “because I was attracted to their life. They lived a bold life in Gauteng. When I saw Basotho putting on their blankets I became attracted and decided to join them in order to be like them.” Pride caused TC to become Lerashea: “I was working at Buffel [Buffelsfontein mine] and Marashea from Gauteng were coming here for stokvels. They would sometimes provoke me, saying that I was not a man, so I joined to show them that I was also a man like themselves. I had been to initiation school and I had learned molamu and I did not want to be mocked by other men.” A long-serving Matsieng veteran viewed membership as an effective strategy to thwart personal enemies: “When I worked [at St. Helena] as a miner there was a troublesome supervisor who undermined me. He even demanded bribes from people. And there was a Shangaan cook at the kitchen who gave me bones instead of meat, and I decided to join Marashea because of those two people so that I could get revenge against them” (PK). For LT, affiliation with the Marashea offered the best prospect of survival. “I was forced to join because I lost my job. I had no money to return home and there was nobody to assist me to get home.” The Marashea became more commercially oriented as the numbers of malofa increased over the years and many members joined for primarily economic reasons. KI, on the contrary, viewed membership as the fulfillment of a long-standing dream: “When I came out of initiation school I was interested in the people called Marashea in South Africa. I wanted to go to the mines so that I could join them. When I arrived there I visited Thabong, where I met Marashea. Since I was already interested I decided to join immediately. . . . I told myself when I was growing up that I would undergo initiation and thereafter go to the mines and join the Marashea.” Mineworkers sometimes commented on the social life available as a result of membership. “The good things about being Lerashea were to have security and a place where one can enjoy himself because on the mines life is too lonely for those who stay in the compound” (KI).
Large numbers of Basotho women have migrated to the urban and mining centers of South Africa since at least the early 1900s. Bonner, Tshidiso Maloka, and Judy Gay all assert that widows and abandoned wives made up the largest proportion of female migrants from the early years of the century to the 1970s.20 These women left Lesotho for a variety of reasons, including ill treatment by in-laws, the search for husbands who failed to send remittances, and desperate economic circumstances. Oral evidence indicates that these motivations, especially the economic imperative, continue to be the prime factors driving women to leave Lesotho. While it has become more difficult for Basotho women to migrate legally to South Africa since 1963, large numbers have continued to undertake the journey.21 Farm areas near the mines have long been the destination of homeland women whose options were severely constrained by influx regulations. Since the relaxation and eventual abolition of influx control in the 1980s, former homeland residents have poured into informal settlements throughout South Africa.
Female 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
