'I want my son to know the truth'

Odirile began his journey at the school his mother attended that morning

Kedibone Losaba was an 11-year-old school pupil when she took part in a protest 1976 which became known as the Soweto uprising.

The students took to the streets of the township, angered by a new regulation that they be taught in Afrikaans, and she was standing just 20m away when 12-year-old Hector Pieterson was shot.

The daughter of a domestic servant, Mrs Losaba is now a successful optometrist, living in the affluent Johannesburg suburb of Waverley.

This week, on the anniversary of the uprising, she returned with her son Odirile to the scene of the shooting, to reflect on how the events of that day have transformed her life, and his.

On Tuesday, I took my son Odirile to relive the events I witnessed more than 30 years ago.

The reason? I went to an event at his school, where the pupils were being taught about 16 June, 1976.

My son goes to a private school. He is one of the fortunate ones.

But I was a little disturbed by what they were presenting. It was quite superficial.

It's important for our children to know what we had to go through Kedibone Losaba

I felt like jumping on the stage and correcting them.

But I could not, for I have never bothered to relate the story to my son.

So I decided to take him to relive what happened. I wanted to give my son the whole picture - what happened and why.

It's important for our children to understand the history. To realise what we took part in and the liberation we had to go through.

A stitch in time

We started at the wall of my old school, at Nka-Thuto, in Dube village.

AT THE SCENE Odirile Losaba, age nine, Soweto It was really interesting for me to know what happened. I saw where Hector Pieterson was educated - and where he got shot. The story was a lot different from the one in school. My teacher didn't really explain much of what happened. My mum knew more about it and what really happened that day. She knew what started everything.

I remember that morning in 1976, I was sitting in my standard four class, wearing my green school uniform, and busy with my sewing.

Mine was a milk jug cover, in turquoise blue.

Suddenly there was this big man who shouted: "Get out, get out, there are no classes."

Confused as I was, I packed my sewing quickly and put it in my green camouflage backpack bag, and joined a huge number of older students.

We marched from Vocational and Nka-Thuto up Mncube Drive and joined other students from White City, Naledi area, down on Mahalefele Road.

With my petite body and innocence, I walked down along the pavement with the intention that when I reached Masike shops, A1 Dry cleaners, I would take a turn and go home.

For whatever reason I did not.

Instead, I proceeded with the students, who were singing their hearts out. Even though I did not know any of the songs.

As I reached Belle Primary school, just few metres away, by Uncle Tom's Hall, there were two green police vans blocking the road.

An older student was going into Belle to do what they did at Nka-Thuto.

Gun shots

Suddenly, I heard a few bangs.

I was maybe 20m-25m away when the gun shots were fired.

It was the first time for me to hear a gun shot. I was a little bit scared. I was shocked.

I was hyperventilating, but I didn't cry - I wanted to be strong for my boy Kedibone Losaba

I didn't run. I had no clue of what was happening. But I saw the action.

Then, there it was - three innocent pupils all being carried to Phomolong Clinic. I could see people carrying the students who had been killed.

When Odi and I reached that spot on Tuesday, I became very emotional.

In fact, I was overwhelmed. I was hyperventilating. But I didn't cry. I wanted to be strong, for my boy.

Odirile stands at the spot where Hector Pieterson was shot

Little did we realise that today, we would be looking at this day as historic.

Curiosity kept me for a while around that area, waiting to see what was next.

All hell

At around 1300, all hell broke out.

I saw a helicopter flying low. Around Phefeni station, the Coca Cola truck was already getting looted.

He produced his firearm... Big mistake Kedibone Losaba

At Vilakazi, next to Khumalo shops, a Chappies van was in flames.

Realising what was happening, I tried to find my way home. On my way, I saw a white van with green curtains on the side, driven by a white man.

As he was trying to drive through the students, he panicked and swerved his car, screeching the tires along the short street that is facing Phomolong Clinic gate.

He produced his firearm. Big mistake.

The image of Hector Pieterson became symbolic of the struggle

He was pulled out of his car and beaten with everything you could think of.

My last straw was when one student took a pike and hit him on the head and put him in the dustbin with ashes.

I could not stand this anymore. I ran home. Already, a sneezing powder that was used by the police in the helicopter was all over us.

I found my grandmother panicking at the gate with a big chain and a lock waiting for us all to come back home so that she can lock her gates that police do not have access to us.

Rewriting history

The day is important to me because that was when the youth, the students of Soweto, decided to take it upon themselves to say "No! We will not be taught in Afrikaans."

Because our teachers could not speak it. So how can they educate us, in a language they do not speak?

I feel strongly that we need to educate our kids, so that they are able to give their peers correct and informed knowledge about our history.

The impact on Odi was overwhelming Kedibone Losaba

Our history is written by white people and half the time it is distorted.

That's why as parents, my husband and I both take our children to Soweto, to see where we grew up, and to understand where they came from.

Because what they see now is not what the world was all about in the previous years.

The type of education these kids have is totally different from ours.

Some 500 died in three weeks of nationwide protests

When I was young there were no private schools for poor black people at that time.

And even if there were, my mother was a domestic servant. She wouldn't have been able to afford to pay for private education.

Now I live in Waverley, in Johannesburg. I'm a successful entrepreneur.

My daughter is studying to be an architect; my son doesn't even consider himself black.

You have to remind them - to bring them back.

At the end of our trip, I took Odi up to the Hector Pieterson memorial museum, in Orlando West.

The impact on Odi was overwhelming - now he's got the real picture of what was happening and he intends to sit down and write it.

We also took pictures, so he can present it to the school.

Anything is possible

Over the years my view of 1976 has changed and so have my circumstances.

But I'm not taking my success for granted because I had to work five times more to get here.

Even now we still have to fight for certain things.

But today, if you have vision and you have focus and a dream of what it is you want to become, it is possible.

All you have to do is read and study.

But had it not been for 1976, we would not be where we are today.

That was the starting point.

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