South Africa’s freedom was forged in sacrifice, not comfort. It was won by young men and women who answered the call to resist injustice when the cost was imprisonment, exile, or death. Among them is Mr Tukwana David Feni, a former Robben Island inmate (Prison Number:100/63) who was arrested in Paarl in the Western Cape and spent twelve years behind bars from 1963 to 1975 for daring to believe that freedom should come in his lifetime. Today, in a cruel twist of history, that same freedom appears to be eluding him. He is partially blind and confined at a village in eQonce, formerly King William’s Town.
As a young man in the early 1960s, Mr Feni heeded the rallying call of the Pan Africanist Congress (PAC) under the powerful slogan “inkululeko ngoku” (freedom now). It was a demand born of urgency and defiance, rejecting gradualism in favour of immediate liberation from apartheid oppression. For his commitment to that cause, Mr Feni paid dearly. He was arrested, convicted, and sentenced to Robben Island, joining the ranks of political prisoners whose suffering laid the foundations of democratic South Africa.
Yet today, more than 30 years into democracy and 15 years after the establishment of the Department of Military Veterans, Mr Feni is still not registered on the national military veteran’s database. This administrative exclusion has profound consequences in that, without registration, he cannot access the benefits guaranteed under Section 5 of the Military Veterans Act, which benefits are intended to ensure healthcare, housing support, and social relief for those who sacrificed for the country’s freedom.
For an elderly former political prisoner, this is not a technical oversight, it is a denial of dignity.
After years of trying to regularise his status, Mr Feni’s latest attempt has been met with a shocking demand. The Department of Military Veterans has instructed him to attend a verification interview, seemingly oblivious to his advanced age, declining health, his unemployment status and the fact that Robben Island prison records exist and clearly confirm his status as a political prisoner. These are official historical records, not contested memories or informal claims. To ignore them is to disregard both history and humanity.
This demand reflects more than bureaucratic insensitivity, it exposes a systemic failure within the Department of Military Veterans, an institution that has, over the years, shown a consistent inability to decisively improve the lives of military veterans. Repeated reports of unprocessed applications, inaccessible benefits, and veterans living in poverty stand in stark contrast to the lofty promises made at election time and on national commemorative days.
The indictment, however, does not stop at the department’s doors. Political accountability rests squarely with the Ministry of Defence and Military Veterans (Minister Angie Motshekga, Deputy Ministers Bantu Holomisa and Richard Hlophe), which has failed to exercise effective oversight and ensure that policies are implemented in a manner consistent with constitutional values. When elderly veterans are subjected to rigid, dehumanising processes, it signals a leadership failure that goes beyond administration and into the realm of moral neglect.
More troubling still is the silence of Mr Feni’s own political home. The Pan Africanist Congress, which once inspired young people to risk everything for liberation, has remained conspicuously quiet. Equally silent is the Azanian People’s Liberation Army Military Veterans Association (APLAMVA), established precisely to safeguard the interests of veterans like Mr Feni. Their inaction renders them complicit in this injustice and raises uncomfortable questions about whom these structures truly serve.
South Africa often proclaims that it honours its heroes. Streets are renamed, speeches delivered, and wreaths laid. But honour without action is hollow. True recognition lies in ensuring that veterans are treated with respect, compassion, and fairness while they are still alive to experience it.
Mr Feni is not asking for special treatment. He is asking for recognition already supported by historical fact, and for access to benefits enshrined in law. His case is a mirror held up to the nation, reflecting a disturbing reality, that those who gave everything for freedom can still be forgotten by the state they helped create.
If South Africa cannot find it within itself to honour Mr Feni, it risks betraying not only one man, but an entire generation that believed against all odds that “inkululeko ngoku” was worth any sacrifice.
Lt Col (Rtd) Baliwinile Kwankwa (SA Army Int C) is a former Director at the Department of Military Veterans and a former member of the Azanian People’s Liberation Army, and writes in his personal capacity.
