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house in Paarl South. Lizzie went to the Bethesda school at first, but then came the 50's and the pass laws.
"We could no longer go to the Coloured schools," she remembers. An African school was started for the farm children and I attended this until the end of Std 6.
"My mother, Angeline, only worked in season at the Jones factory (later Langeberg and now Tiger Foods) and WP Tobacco, leaving a winter season without any income.
"I was in Std 5 when I started working on the farms. My mother didn't like this - I was the youngest and she didn't want me to work," she says with a nostalgic smile.
"But my mother was very involved in the politics of the day. Sometimes I went with her to the meetings under the big tree in Tennant Street in Huguenot."
Then in 1956 people started burning their passes.
The government started to move Xhosa people to the newly established Langabuya area. As a result they lost their house in Paarl South and her mother was detained.
Lizzie was only 16. Eventually she and another woman stayed in empty pig sties nearby, until her mother wa released, after which they lived with relatives.
"We couldn't go to Langabuya, as my mother still had no pass. There was no money to go to school and she started working part-time at Langeberg.
"Without a pass I couldn't work full time," but with a twinkle in her eye she recalls Miss Opie, the supervisor, who wasn't very mindful and let her work without checking for a pass.
"Then I fell in love with Joseph Zantsi, the father of my children.
In 1956 she had her first child and soon afterwards they were married according to tribal custom.
Then a supervisor at Langeberg demanded to see her pass.
""You know the pass laws brought much sorrow to us. I had to work, we were poor and my husband had lost his job."
Lizzie and her aunt went to the Bantu Administration offices, where she was issued with a temporary pass.
The only work her husband could find was driving taxis for his brother in Worcester. This was the beginning of the end of their marriage.
"I went to Worcester when I could, but my husband didn't visit me regularly and in the end he found a girlfriend..."
"Then I lost my pass and was caught," she tells of her first encounter with the law.
"I didn't have money for the fine and had to wait in the cells for a court appearance the following day. My son of 16 months was with me."
Lizzie told the magistrate that she had grown up in Paarl and had no other place to live. He gave instruction that a pass be issued to her, and she returned to work at the canning factory.
Soon she became a member of the seasonal workers' committee, along with the well-known Rocky Mafikeng and Frank Marquard.
In 1979 she was appointed as union official by the Food & Allied Workers Union (Fawu).
Lizzie was politically active and thus no stranger to jail.
The second time she was arrested was during demonstrations against increases in the bread price in 1981.
"We gathered in Jan van Riebeeck Drive at Banana House to protest, but the police waited just around the corner.
"When I heard that, I knew we were going to get a hiding and end up in jail - and we did."
In the ensuing court case Lizzie told the judge that working people couldn't afford the rising bread price: "Bread is a staple food. These prices are killing the people."
The rent campaign followed in 1983. The community in Mbekweni was up in arms over the rent and basic service increases, planned for 1 September 1983.
They decided to march to the housing office in Drommedaris Street and hand over a memorandum. Here they met up with another group of protestors from the canning factory who had walked from Paarl.
"There were police with batons and dogs at the gate. They gave us three minutes to disperse. I put my hand up to talk, but before I could say a word, they had called the vans.
"I was so afraid of the dogs that I advised all the protestors, to get in - 171 of us!"
There were so many people detained that some had to be held at Pollsmoor prison.
She was once again detained in Pollsmoor for two months in 1986, after a funeral vigil at the home of a victim. It was here that she received the sad news that her son, Ntemi (19), had been shot and killed by Azapo.
The night of 26 December 1986 I couldn't sleep. The whole night I was tense and overwrought. I felt like screaming," she says with tears in her eyes.
Following an outcry from the Union and other organisations, she was released on 1 January 1987, the day before the funeral.
"The oppression got worse when the government declared a state of emergency."
More and more youths were arrested and when she tried to intervene, she was detained once again. She had to appear in court on 17 July and her family and friends felt she had to flee.
Lizzie went underground and worked in Johannesburg under an assumed name, Gladys. She lived with friends in Krugersdorp where she was eventually caught and took to John Vorster Square.
"I was so afraid, because this is where my friend and colleague, Dr Niel Aggett, had been murdered."
She was brought back to Paarl for trial where she was detained in the police cells for a month.
"I slept so badly on those coarse blankets," she recalls.
Lizzie remained involved with the youth, helping them wherever she could. She went to Lusaka regularly and on these occasions made contact with many of the young refugees.
"Many parents were angry with me, like the time the bar burnt down while I sat in the evening service. No-one wanted to believe that I had nothing to do with it.
In the mean time all of them had liquor for Christmas. They didn't like our hard struggle."
Lizzie provided many of the youths with money, or got them help from other sources.
"They would come and ask for money, not giving me details of their activities. Everyone was afraid that someone would spill the beans under torture by the security police."
Lizzie's involvement with the youth didn't have a happy ending.
"It is sad that when the young people came back, none of them remembered me..."
Then democracy came in 1994 and Lizzie became involved in government politics.
She was a member of the Paarl Transitional Council that was in power from 1994 until the first local elections in 1995.
However, she didn't complete her term: "I had to choose between the Transitional Council and the Union for financial reasons."
At that stage the Union's salary was much higher than councillors' remuneration and she decided to resign.
In 1999 she returned to politics, when she was elected as member of the Provincial Parlement for the ANC, a position she occupied until the recent election.
And the future?
"I am a community worker at heart and will continue to work for the people as long as possible."
Lizzie also plans to spend time with her three living children and five grandchildren |