Kasrils – the story of a Jewish boy from Yeoville

JORDAN MOSHE

In his newly published memoir, however, Kasrils brings to light the early years of his life, cataloguing a childhood lived in thriving Jewish Yeoville.

In conversation with acclaimed author and journalist Mark Gevisser, Kasrils launched his most recent book, Catching Tadpoles, at Exclusive Books in Hyde Park last week. The pair tried to get to the heart of an identity formed in the ‘40s and ’50s.

“We all know of this man as armed and dangerous, the Red Pimpernel, and a great freedom fighter,” said Gevisser. “He is somebody who has always been at the barricades when it comes to fighting for freedom and justice.

“This book gives us another Ronnie. The little boy known as Ronelah to his beloved bobba, Clara. A leader of an intrepid gang called the Zorro gang as a Yeoville boykie. A young bohemian who had an affair with Miriam Makeba: This is what Catching Tadpoles is about.” 

Kasrils shared his experiences as a young Jewish boy growing up in the Johannesburg of the mid-20th century, bringing up the names of people familiar to many. These include famed Jewish jockey Cocky Feldman; his horse, Danny Boy; and the horse’s trainer, Jumbo Goldstein, the great-uncle of Chief Rabbi Dr Warren Goldstein.

Kasrils explained that people like Feldman were crucial to Jewish life when he was growing up.

“In the 1940s, he was a champion jockey, and that meant the entire Jewish community was inspired by his feats. His slogan in the community was ‘Ride ‘em, Cocky. Give him more with the shtick.’ He was someone we could feel proud about, especially coming after what had happened in Europe and the anti-Semitic sentiment we had been so used to.”

Of his family home, Kasrils said that he grew up with parents Isidore and Rene in a flat in Yeoville, a home in which much happened, including poker evenings and clobyosh tournaments.

“They weren’t devout Jews,” said Kasrils of his parents. “There was a pretence at a kosher kitchen.  We didn’t have bacon, but we had most other things. My grandfather and father went to shul only on Yom Kippur to atone for their sins.”

His father was a commercial traveller who sold sweets for the family of David Pratt, a personality who would achieve notoriety for shooting Hendrik Verwoerd. Kasrils said that his father worked at the low-end of the market, selling sweets in poor-white areas and townships. His then 10-year-old son would often accompany him on sales trips, carrying his bag of samples.

Said Kasrils: “I travelled with him, and we’d go along old Main Reef Road and be popping in to Greek, Lebanese and mainly Muslim shops closer to the townships.

“My father would sit with these men, and the little boy would watch them and feel an inexplicable warm, rosy feeling. Only later could I understand it was because my father showed them respect. It was a feeling that my father accepted people and was accepted, and was totally different to the rest of his crowd.”

These lessons would leave a lasting impression on Kasrils as he grew up, shaping his perspective on apartheid South Africa and its wrongs. Isidore took an interest in his son’s foray into politics (Kasrils learned only later that he was a socialist at heart) and believed that anyone who worked hard deserved just rewards.

His mother, too, provided him with a political education. By way of an anecdote, Kasrils explained: “My mother provided one of the first major turning points of my life. She once took me downtown to the Rissik street bioscope, and when we got off the tram, suddenly I felt her yanking my arm. I could hear screaming and cursing. We rushed across the road, there were four young hoodlums with knuckledusters beating an African man mercilessly. They were killing this man, and blood was spewing everywhere. My mother rushed me into Anstey’s department store, ordered water with sugar for us both, and calmed me down.”

That night, Kasrils was disturbed, and wet his bed. His mother opened the discussion with him a few days later.

“She saw I was unhappy, and asked if it was because of what had happened. I said yes, and asked her if this was the way Jews were treated in Germany. Her eyes looked into mine, and she thought carefully.

“Ronald. Our people and others were being thrown into concentration camps and into gas chambers,” she said. “That’s not happening here, but my boy, it starts like this when people can be attacked and beaten in the streets. Ronald, don’t be like them. Be kind.” 

Other influences on Kasrils included the Sacks sisters, three girls of Russian origin whose mantelpiece bore Stalin’s portrait, and who taught young Ronnie how to dance and about what was going on in the world in 1948. Kasrils’ high-school history teacher, Teddy Gordon, would also contribute to his consciousness, introducing him to the French Revolution and its belief in liberty and equality.

Said Kasrils:  “He opened my mind up. South Africa in the ‘50s was relevant to what he was teaching. It changed me.”

Cumulatively, these forces would engender a personality who joined the ANC and went further than many other white or Jewish activists had gone in the wake of the Sharpeville massacre in 1960. “This man went beyond being horrified,” said Gevisser. “He became a revolutionary and a freedom fighter.”

Kasrils concluded by reflecting on the writing process as a journey of self-discovery. “There’s something about writing a memoir. You discover new things you never noticed about yourself. As I look back, more emerges.

“I moved from just prattling and wringing my hands. There are those who are prepared to get involved and undergo a metamorphosis, so convinced are they that things are wrong. I was an action person, and so I chose it for myself.”