TESTIMONY_GIVER:
  I am Mananki Siphe.  I live in Orange Free State, Thumahole.  I am Stompie Siphe's mother.  Stompie was my first-born, and we lived in a very poor family.  Until standard two I have been struggling to raise him.  He met his fate in standard two.  In 1985 the police took him.  They took him to Parys Police Station.  It was suspected that they robbed the bottle store.  Until in 1986 I saw the police coming to him in large numbers.  On entering they said, "Where is stompie?"  I said to them, "He is not here."  They said, "Take him out.  He is here.  We don't know is he a child or is he a person.  Why do you let him go into politics?"  On the 9th of July in 1986 it was very early in the morning.  Stompie was from the shop to buy bread.  They met him.  It was the Special Branch Police.  They said to me Stompie must get warm clothing, and they left with him.  Stompie was detained in many prisons.  He had been to Sasol, to Leeuhof, Heilbron, he went to Koppies, and he was in Potchefstroom.  On the 26th of May in 1987 Stompie came back from Potchefstroom.  In 1987 on the 25th of June that was the first time I see Stompie.  He left Thumahole.  He was being chased by the police and he decided to run away.  He went to Johannesburg because he was running away from the police.  He was in Johannesburg and he came back.  There was a Comrade, Master Nakede who passed away.  Stompie had to come for his funeral.  And in 1988 he was arrested and he was sent to Koppies.  When he went back to Koppies - he went back to Johannesburg.  In 1988 on the 1st of December Stompie appeared in court in connection with the burning of municipal cars.  We used to call them the green beans at that time.  Stompie went to Johannesburg.  I was searching for him.  I wanted to see him on the 1st of December.  I was asking his friends, "Have you seen Stompie?"  I was so afraid to go to the police because he didn't like the police at all.  On the 12th of January 1989 there was supposed to be the next hearing for Stompie, but he never pitched up.  There was another lawyer at Parys who asked me am I Stompie's mother.  I said yes, I am.  While listening to him the lawyer told me that Stompie was dead.  I was puzzled.  Contrary to that Stompie's friends did not tell me that he was dead, they said he is alive.  As time went on I met people and they said to me, "Are you freely moving here?  Don't you know your son is dead?"  I wasn't sure whether Stompie was dead or not.  I was a woman fighting for the human rights.  I couldn't feel anything that Stompie might be dead.  One woman told me that I should go to one of Stompie's friends and ask him where is Stompie.  I went to see him and I only got his father.  His father said to me, "They are all lying.  Stompie is still alive."  Stompie used to ride a BMX bicycle.  He said to me, "He only has a small bruise on his leg."  I stayed in 1989, expecting something to happen.  Sometimes I would go to town, and that is where I received the news that Stompie is dead.  I fell into the water, and that gave me an indication that he is dead.  But nobody from the organisation who came to tell me the truth.  In 1989 on the 30th of January two ministers from Johannesburg Methodist Church arrived.  It was Bishop Peter Storey with Paul Verin.  They told me that they are seeing me in connection with Stompie.  They said it was on the 29th of December in 1988 when Stompie was taken from the Methodist Church together with his friends.  They were taken to Mrs Winnie Mandela's house.  They said to me they don't know, they are still searching for Stompie, they don't know whether is he alive or is he dead.  And they told me that his friends told them that his brain was leaking.  I stayed at home, expecting something to happen, but they said to me, "If the police arrive and they want to give you help about Stompie, you have to agree with them, because they are the only people who can help you."  On the 13th of February the police came to me.  On their arrival they asked me - they said,"Is he Moeketse?"  I said, "No, he is Moeketse."  They said to me, "We will come tomorrow and fetch you so "that we can go to Johannesburg."  On the 13th of February 1989 they took me and we went to Brixton.  We went to Diepkloof Mortuary.  That's where I identified Stompie.  His body was decomposed, but your son is your son.  I was fighting for my rights.  There were signs that really indicated to me that it was Stompie.  After having been killed he was thrown into the river between New Canada and Soweto.  You couldn't even identify him.  I looked at Stompie because I am his mother.  I had a deep look at him.  I saw the first sign.  I said, "I know my son.  He doesn't have hair at the back."  His eyes were gouged, and I said, "This is Stompie."  The time Gotso(?) House was bombed Stompie was involved during those times.  He had a scar on his eye.  I looked at him at the nose, and he had a birth mark.  I looked at his chest and I could see a scar, because he fought with another boy in Thumahole.  And I looked at his left hand.  It was identical to mine.  I looked at his thighs.  Stompie was very fit, just like his mother.  I looked at his private parts, and my sister just winked her eye.  His left leg is similar to mine.  Underneath the left leg there was a birth mark as well.  And they asked me, "How much does Stompie weigh?"  I said, "No, the police would know that."  They asked me, "Was he short or was he tall?"  I said, "He was very short."  But because he had been thrown into the water like a dog that's why he's stretched.  They brought his clothes.  I said, "I can see these clothes."  There are two things that I realised as well that indicated to me that proved to me that it was Stompie.  His white hat was there.  I looked at his shoes, a new pair of running shoes.  I said, "Yes, they are Stompie's."  I said, "He used to wear size "four."  We went back to Parys together with SB van der Merwe with Richard Malambo.  We went back to Thumahole.  On their way they were telling me that they don't believe it is Stompie.  The next day they fetched me, they said Dr Koornhof and Joubert indicated that it is not Stompie.  I had to go back to Johannesburg.  I was supposed to fight for the rights of my son.  I went back to Johannesburg.  They asked me many questions.  "Was Stompie suffering from anything?"  I said, "Yes, he had tonsils.  He had epilepsy, but when he was five years he was healed."  They said, "Did he have any problem with his eyes?"  I said, "No, when he was released from Koppies Prison he already had this problem with his eyes.  He had the eye problem because he got it from the prison in Koppies."  They said to me, "We don't believe it is Stompie."  He was very young, he didn't have an identity document.  He was 14 years.  They said to me, "Do you think we should believe you that it is Stompie?"  I said to them, "Yes, you have to."  They came back and they gave me hands.  They said, "He is your son.  We could identify him through his fingerprints."  They said they will help me to bury Stompie.  I said to them, "No, I will first speak to my family.  I won't take law into my hands," because Stompie was falling under a certain organisation.  We went to Parys.  I told them that my family doesn't agree with their help, because you wouldn't say anything in those days because of apartheid.  Even the mother of the child you wouldn't speak anything in front of the police because you'd think that they would harass you.  There was a mortuary called Bosman Mortuary.  I went to that mortuary together with Sergeant Nel.  I told the owner, Mr Msipidi, that they should go and fetch Stompie from Johannesburg.  They said no, they can't help me in any way because my family will help me.  On the last day, it was a Friday, the reporters came to me.  They said to me, "Stompie is alive.  He is in Botswana."  They said Mrs Mandela told them that Stompie is alive, he is in Botswana.  I said to them, "I am not bearing a zombie, I am bearing my son.  I know his birth marks.  I raised him from childhood.  Nobody will ever tell me anything about my child.  We went to the mortuary to see him for the last time.  He was decomposed, he had a bad smell.  We couldn't bring him to the house.  Together with my family and my father we went to see him and he was the real Stompie.  But Mr Msipidi said to us, "This is not Stompie."  He said he appointed one member of his staff to take a very good look at Stompie, and he said that day there were many people from Stompie's organisation.  They were spreading the rumour that Stompie was an informer.  I spent so many years raising Stompie.  I have spent so many time talking to Stompie, and after that I was told that he was an informer.  On Saturday - the very same night people from overseas came.  They asked me, "Do you remember in 1987 when Stompie was released from prison we came to see you at 241?"  I said to them, "Yes, I remember."  They said, "Remember the police were just after us.  They didn't want us to speak to Stompie?"  I said, "Yes."  They showed me a picture, a photo of Stompie, together with his friend Gili Nyatela, and they said to me, "The owner of the mortuary says the person who died is not Stompie."  I said, "Those are news to me.  The person that I am going to bury tomorrow is my son."  We went to the church.  Something happened that really hurt me.  The same person, the owner of the mortuary, said, "I took a look at this child and I discovered it was not Stompie.  I called a member of my staff and he also said it is not Stompie."  Reverend Mabuza stood up and he said, "I am here to bury Stompie Siphe.  I don't care whether is he Stompie or not, but I am here to bury a 14-year-old child, Stompie."  One reverend stood up and he said, "I don't know Stompie as much as he had been portrayed here.  I know him.  He was a very friendly person."  Reverend Pulverain(?) said, "I lost a very deep friend.  I lost a real friend."  Saturday night I never slept.  The same organisation - we know that Jesus Christ had been betrayed by one of his disciples  There was a rumour Saturday night that I should be happy that Stompie is alive.  They toyi-toyied outside my house.  Isabella Siphe stopped me from going out.  Sunday morning they arrived again.  They were crying.  They said, "Mrs Siphe, that is not Stompie.  We were told that that person didn't have teeth."  I just kept quiet.  My grandmother tried to chase them, because she said to them, "Listen, if you keep on insisting that the person we buried is not Stompie we will call the police," and they kept quiet.  Monday morning another woman came and she said to me, "You buried a very wrong person."  And she said, "You will receive a call on Tuesday from Botswana.  Stompie will tell you that he is going to send you money."  I was so desperate, and I left the woman, I went home.