divide. In fact, one report traces the formal establishment of the Marashea to conflict between mineworkers and residents of Benoni location. According to this account, Basotho living in Benoni formed the original Russian gang in 1947 to prevent Basotho miners from visiting resident women.32 The testimony of a Molapo member active in Johannesburg during the 1950s indicates that in some groups little love was lost between location residents and mineworkers. PG1, who worked in the Johannesburg general post office and lived in Moroka, explains that the relationship between Russian mineworkers and township Russians “was not friendly because those people living in the mines, they were after the women. Now they have to be fucked up by [township Russians].” Presumably because of this antipathy, there were “not more than ten” mineworkers in PG1’s group, which, he reports, numbered in the hundreds. Before a 1960 battle between resident Russians and invading mineworkers, the Russians from the mines visited Naledi and left a note declaring, “Their home-boy Basothos of the township were women,”33 and vowed to return the following day. Forewarned, the local Marashea repelled the attack, killing at least two of the invaders. It is likely that such conflicts erupted on the Rand before the mid-1960s because township Russians could more readily find employment and were not as financially dependent on their mining compatriots. It is also possible that it was relatively easy for mineworkers, who had access to numerous locations throughout the Rand, to find women who were not resident in Russian-controlled areas and thus had less of a need for formal links with township Marashea. However, even in this environment, internecine conflict was characterized by clashes between Matsieng and Matsekha groups that incorporated both township dwellers and mineworkers.
In spite of the ferocity of the fighting between rival Marashea factions, veterans draw a clear distinction between these conflicts and the battles Marashea fought with outsiders. There was a definite recreational aspect to early internecine battles as groups fought for bragging rights as Basotho. When veterans recount fights with rival groups, they describe rousing encounters. Before the battle the women would encourage the men by singing their praises and celebrations followed victories. During the week when Matsekha and Matsieng worked side by side in the mines and factories they would discuss previous battles, speak admiringly of brave and accomplished fighters, and predict victory in upcoming conflicts. “The fighting was good,” claims DB, a Matsieng veteran of the 1950s. “Although it was tough, we did not regret it because it was our choice and we enjoyed fighting.” NT, who also fought as a member of Matsieng in the 1950s, reminisced, “We were happy to fight because it was a sort of play; at that time we were not killing. When we beat you with melamu and you fell, we would leave you and chase your friends. We fought on Saturdays and Sundays; during the week we went to work because all of us were working. It was nice because it was like when Basotho boys play melamu at home.”
Guy and Thabane have discussed this phenomenon as it applied to the Rand conflicts of the 1950s:
Internecine fighting amongst the Ma-Rashea could possibly so weaken them that they could no longer effectively fulfill their function as defenders of the Basotho. It might leave them open to destruction by other groups—criminal or ethnic—or by the coercive arm of the state. Thus, deadly and violent as these confrontations were, there were certain devices that the Basotho factions adopted which limited the ultimate outcome—devices which they could use because there were certain assumptions that they as Basotho, could share, and which they could not share with other groups.34
Thus, in the course of a battle when a man was wounded and helpless, his opponent might stand over him to ensure he was not killed. On some occasions defeated opponents were released after being beaten and forced to relinquish their valuables. HM, a 1950s veteran, explains: “We even showed mercy to other Marashea in a fight. We would just take your clothes and send you to your morena; we would not kill you.” ML, a 1970s veteran, describes much the same practice: “When we chase one and catch him, we kill him. But if he is well dressed in smart clothes, wearing a blanket like this one, we take the blanket and send him away and say, ‘Go!’ so that tomorrow when one of us is caught during a fight, his clothing will be taken but he will not be killed.”
In the heat of battle men were sometimes struck down and mercilessly killed—there were no guarantees of protection. However, in the early years the different groups generally adhered to a moral code that when violated could result in severe consequences. Mamalinyane, who led a 1950s group of Marashea, mainly composed of Hlubi, was targeted for assassination by a combined Matsieng-Molapo force precisely because he broke the rules of the time. “In those days marena were not supposed to be killed. If morena was captured he would be taken to lekhotla and asked about his group. When he answered those questions, he was supposed to be released, not killed, and then his group would go and fight back. But Mamalinyane killed morena Bifa from QwaQwa in Masakeng. He stabbed him with a spear, and Marashea from Molapo and Matsieng joined to attack Mamalinyane” (NT). Mamalinyane was killed in his house in 1956, reportedly stabbed in the same way he killed Bifa (multiple interviews).
When the Marashea began in the 1940s and 1950s, most combatants used melamu, battle axes, or swords and it was relatively easy to limit hand-to-hand conflicts. As firearms became more prevalent, it was difficult to control the fights and the practice of sparing fallen enemies, as well as the tendency to prearrange battles, gradually died out. BM, who has more than thirty years of experience as Lerashea, gives his perspective on these changes:
The fight between Marashea started a long time ago, around the 1940s. I do not know how it started but we are told many stories about it. It was like a game when one person hits another—the rule was that if he falls down he should not be hit again, rather you would just take his blanket. After the blanket is taken the owner would want to claim it back by fighting. It would be an ongoing fight. There were notices from the attacking group to the other group in order to make them prepared for the fight. Somebody would be given a letter telling morena of the other group that on such and such a day we will come and fight over our blankets, which you captured last time. He would be given a drink as we are drinking now and they would reply and say, okay, we shall be waiting for you, or we will not be in a position to fight because of a funeral or stokvel or anything. But these days things have changed. If there is a fight, it is a fight, not a game. If we were to send someone to Thabong now, they would kill him; he would never come back.
The proliferation of firearms was partially responsible for eroding the practice of ritualistic combat governed by a recognizable set of rules. A second factor has been the increasing commercialization of the Marashea. Instead of fighting for recreation and bragging rights, Marashea in the last thirty years have battled for control of lucrative transport routes and liquor distribution networks. Rather than the prearranged, set-piece battles of former days, hit-and-run raids using taxis are the method of choice in recent years. However, battles between Marashea groups are still viewed in a different light than fights with non-Basotho, as truces and agreements are more easily negotiated.
As transport became more readily available in the 1970s and 1980s, Marashea groups began to accompany the bodies of fallen members to their home villages in Lesotho, where they conducted funeral ceremonies. Before this practice, funerals in South Africa often erupted in violence when groups attempted to prevent rivals from burying their dead.35 “It was difficult to bury Lerashea because when we were taking the body to the cemetery the other group would come and start a fight at the funeral. If they defeated us, before they buried the body they would break the coffin and sometimes even pour petrol on the body and burn it” (HM). Funeral conflicts could also be prearranged. NN, a Matsekha veteran, explains, “If Lerashea died in a fight, before he was buried we would invite the Matsieng group and fight with melamu before the burial began” (20 May 1998). Less often, fights have occurred at funerals in Lesotho when one group follows a rival back home to disrupt the proceedings. In 1996 members of a rogue Matsieng group attacked Matsekha during a funeral service near the university town of Roma, killing several people.36
Impromptu battles also took place, especially on trains, when groups met on the way to dances and other celebrations. With a near constant state of warfare between rivals,
