Monty Naicker: charming hero of the struggle

Time is a great dispenser of justice. Though its wheels grind slowly, it eventually reaches its true destiny and takes its rightful place in history. At long last, the good deeds of Dr Monty Naicker, leader of the Natal Indian Congress have been acknowledged by his country. Despite the politicking between parties in favour of and against the idea of renaming streets after old political stalwarts, the general consensus of acknowledging great men and women who have contributed to the struggle for freedom cannot be disputed.

Last week, Dr Kreesen Naicker received the City of Durban scroll from Mayor Obed Mlaba on behalf of his father, the late Mr Mogambary (Monty) Naicker. Had he been alive today, Monty Naicker would have shied away from such publicity. Instead, he would have preferred to have been at home laughing and joking with close friends, over a drink or two. In many respects, Uncle Monty, as we all knew him, was a very unpretentious man who enjoyed the pleasures of simple things in life. A freshly cooked hot curry, a good book, a game of snooker, parties, the “thirukuthu” or six foot male folk dance, the company of young folk, but most of all he loved bragging about his son Kreesen, in a jovial way. It was his way of coping with the harshness of the struggle.

According to his friend, the late Dr K Goonam, who studied with him in Edinburgh, whenever he arrived at a party, the sedateness of the atmosphere would disappear and there would be a sudden livening up of young and old. Looking around the room he would sidle up to the shyest old aunt and make some unexpected comment like, “Is your husband good to you?” His remark would sound odd in Tamil, as the language does not lend itself to frivolous banter. Then, as the music started playing, he would lift her off her feet and whirl her on to the dance floor, guiding her to keep rhythm with him, and whispering in her ear “Now your husband will be good to you.” Monty Naicker loved singing Tamil songs, interspersed with a creative smattering of Zulu.

His repertoire consisted of no more than a few lines from three or four songs which he learnt at vernacular school. His personal friends were drawn both from the movement and the larger community. My father considered himself to be one of his closest friends, and together with others they established the famous Bellair club, partly to cushion themselves from the indignity of being constantly refused admission to hotels and restaurants and other public places. They purchased a rambling cottage on two acres of land and, there in between going to prison, directing political campaigns, and practicing medicine on a social welfare basis, he relaxed – dancing and playing bridge. The Naickers were very hospitable, and their home was the scene of many happy parties where the guests would mingle with the likes of Alan Paton, Chief Albert Luthuli, Dr Yusuf Dadoo, the Meers and other stalwarts in the movement.

Everyone loved him, even the security police who squatted outside his watching his movements every hour of the day, taking down the number plates of his visitor’s cars. He spent much of his life in prison, but each time he came out his spirit was never crushed. He would jocularly raise the leg of his trouser pants and show us his wounds, which he received from doing hard labour. For him, going in and out of prison became a routine, as did his confrontation with the authorities. To our amusement he would claim that at least he was assured of a honeymoon each time he cam out of prison!

His beautiful wife, Marie, graciously bore her hardship with uncomplaining dignity. I recall at the time that the story went that she had been raised by white nannies in De Aar, and knew no Tamil, except for the few swear words which she inadvertently learnt from her husband’s equally limited repertoire. But always resplendent in saris, she carried herself with great dignity throughout the 40 – odd years of her husband’s political struggles for the cause.

As a political activist, Monty Naicker cut another picture. He was principled, unswerving and fearless, a fighter to the bitter end. When, as a young man in the 1930s, he formed the nationalist wing of the Congress movement, few in South Africa were thinking of a non-racial democratic future. Within a sort space of time he was able to mobilize the Indian community politically, and South Africa saw the return of the Gandhian spirit. Under the banner of the non – European united front, Mr Naicker brought radical Indians, Africans and coloureds together. The post  war era brought Monty into conflict with Jan Smuts, who had helped to draft the United Nations Charter, but was not prepared to extend the principles of the charter to black South Africans in his own country. He led the passive resistance movement, in which over 2000 registers were imprisoned.

Dr Naicker also played a crucial role in placing racism on the international agenda. He realized that unless South Africa’s racial practices were brought to the attention of the world, they would remain unpunished. Later, under the presidency of Albert Luthuli, that alliance began the bitter struggle against the government, eventually leading to the banning of the ANC, PAC and SACP.

Monty Naicker was among the many brave men and women who were banned, and his voice of reason and understanding was muffled for 14 long years.

Yet he remained a symbol of hope for all those dedicated to a non – racial democracy in South Africa. Surely we will all agree that his memory must live on in our midst. Viva Monty Naicker Avenue, Boulevard, Highway!

Dr.Devi Rajab, a leading South African journalist can be reached at: rajab@cybertek.co.za