Founded on January 8, 1912 in Bloemfontein as the South African Native National Congress, the African National Congress (ANC) was formed to advocate for the rights of black South Africans. When the National Party government came to power in 1948, the ANC’s central purpose became to oppose the new government’s policy of institutionalized apartheid.  

The ANC was banned by the South African government between April 1960 – shortly after the Sharpeville massacre – and February 1990. The ANC was forced into exile by increasing state repression, which saw many of its leaders imprisoned on Robben Island. Headquartered in Lusaka, Zambia, the exiled ANC dedicated much of its attention to a campaign of sabotage and guerrilla warfare against the apartheid state, carried out under its military wing, uMkhonto we Sizwe. It finally rose to power in 1994 with the election of Nelson Mandela as president. 

During those years of war, a young Terrence Tryon was one of its leaders and in this exclusive, first ever interview with VBTC journalist Brenda Daniel, he spoke of those turbulent years, his time in an oppressive apartheid prison and his hopes for the fledgling nation of Vanuatu.   

 As he moves into his seventies, Terrence Tryon is now certain that war is futile. 

“But don’t write that,” he tells me with a broad smile. 

The one-time ANC intelligence supremo, who has avoided the media like bats avoid light, is talking candidly about the very real African war against apartheid.  

The one-time zealot who was a leading figure in the strategy that gave the ANC global appeal and support that led to ultimate victory has matured like a good South African red wine. 

“It’s a terrible thing, war, it’s the most idiotic thing… no one is a winner in war,” he reflected as we talked at a friend’s home in Johannesburg on a quiet Sunday afternoon recently.  

“You mustn’t put that in, ‘cause when you are young you stick, you know,’’ he said laughing at the memory. 

Terrence grew up in a small village near Durban in what he called a ‘South African family’ – a mixture of all races. 

“European, African, Indian, so as I’m growing up, I realised that the laws of the country have forced my family to disintegrate,’’ he said. 

“Aunties, uncles belonged to the one group, and the others belonged to the other group and when you are young in South Africa, you go to church a lot and the church tells you that God believes in everyone and we are all equal. 

“But it’s actually not true when it comes to the politics and it devastated me.’’ 

He explained that one grandfather was a Scot who married an Indian woman and the other married a Zulu woman. 

“But in the community I grew up in, we got on quite well … it was nice, it was wonderful, but the separation of my family was terrible,’’ he said. 

“My one uncle was the mayor of a white town and his brother married an African woman so they couldn’t meet each other because white people did not want anyone to know they had relatives on the other side of the fence.’’ 

Terrence was at university when the Mozambique war of independence ended in 1974 and student activists were arrested at a related rally and he was asked to look after their office. 

“So I left my studies to run the South Africans’ students’ office which was started by Steve Biko and they had a philosophy called black consciousness which basically said black was just as good as white,’’ he said.  

“It was very important too at the time, because what happens in these divided communities, people lose their self-worth and that’s a great issue. 

“It became a very important movement and you get involved in that and of course, what happens, you end up being arrested.’’ 

He explained that he put out a student publication that had copied a paper and figures from a government gazette, which was an official document. talking about salaries. 

“And I ended up going to jail for that… in solitary confinement for three months in a tiny cell with a little bucket in the corner and I slept on the floor,’’ he recalled. 

“You were allowed to go the shower once a day and then you were being interrogated, but I was lucky I was not beaten.’’ 

After his release, Terrence returned to the student’s office and was arrested again. 

“Immediately after Steve Biko’s funeral in 1977, there was lot of support for justice in South Africa and for the first time at the funeral, I saw not only students but parents and old people coming to the funeral and participating, and I knew than that the tide had turned and that government was in trouble.’’ 

Terrence Tryon: Lessons from the ANC to Empower Vanuatu’s Future

After the funeral of legendary anti-apartheid activist Steve Biko, the SA government banned all anti-apartheid organizations in October 1977 and about 80 activists were arrested. 

Terrence Tryon was among those swept up in a new law proclaiming them a threat to society. 

“I spent 14 months in jail without any court appearances and after that time, I was taken in handcuffs about 600 kilometres from Jo’burg to Durban to my home,’’ he said. 

“I get a banning order for five years – you can only be with two people in a room, you can never write anything, say anything and you are restricted to an area which was about five square kilometres around your home. 

“I had to report every Monday to the police station before 11 o’clock, and of course, they had people monitoring me.’’ 

He said his family was glad to have him home in November 1978 and were very proud of him. 

“Then about six months into my banning order, I get a message from the ANC asking me to come and join them in Swaziland,’’ he said. 

“The ANC had mostly older people who did not know the communities well, so they asked me to help build up the ANC capacity. 

“I had got married in the meantime and my wife was pregnant and I said I must see my child, so I’ll come three months after the birth. 

Terrence left the country in December 1979 and joined the ANC. 

His role for the ANC in Swaziland was building the political organisation and its illegal underground. 

“I went for training in East Germany, but we didn’t do too much military stuff, our main thing was trying to get the communities organised and create a strong underground network of people also involved in the struggle,’’ he said. 

“Our finances came a lot from the Nordic countries, Cuba and Russia did our training and then the ANC was big in exile.’’ 

Terrence spent about six years doing this work, building the organisation, rarely returning to South Africa where he risked prison and even death. 

“About four people that I worked with were actually executed because they put bombs somewhere or stuff like that,’’ he said in a matter-of-fact tone. 

By 1988, he was the ANC’s representative in Angola and he closed the military camps and moved the people. 

“And then began the long haul of negotiations to 1994, and I was involved with meetings of members of the SA government including the Foreign Minister,’’ he said.  

When the announcement of Mandela’s release came through, Terrence said ‘the bloody fellas fired shots in the air all night, they were so happy, so relieved, as was I too’. 

“I worked in Mandela’s government; they asked me to work in intelligence, so I started a group that would focus on national, organised crime.’’ 

He created a team that included former enemies who were well trained and skilled at their art. 

“And it worked well, the police were very happy but the ANC were not happy and by 2000 I was out of a job with the government,’’ he said. 

“It was very traumatic for me, but greed is a thing that happens all over the world and it’s a different struggle to deal with greedy politicians.’’ 

Terrence was then asked to sit on a governmental integrity commission. 

“I was supposed to say this one is not allowed and this one is allowed but they never listened for two years, so I resigned,’’ he said. 

“I was angry and frustrated for a long time, but now I know what to do next and that would be to organise the local communities to demand better from the politicians. 

“You’ve got to start from the beginning again, in another direction.’’ 

He said even in young republics like Vanuatu, there is so much opportunity. 

“And the people must find another way and the important thing is for people to work together, but politicians’ main objective is to see how much they can get and it’s the same everywhere. 

“With good government and good education then the sky’s the limit.’’