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Steve Biko Steve Biko was born on 18 December 1946 just months before the racist National Party, which introduced apartheid in South Africa, came to power. His father died when he was four and his mother worked as a domestic servant for white families in King William's Town in Cape Province. He became involved in politics while studying medicine at Natal University and was one of the founders (and first president) of the all-black South African Students' Organisation (SASO) in 1969. He travelled to different black campuses to spread ideas about establishing black solidarity and to get black students 'accepted on their own terms as an integral part of the South African community'. Many of his basic ideas were similar to those developed in the US Black Power movement, and emphasised pride, self-respect, and the ability to achieve political and social justice on black people's own terms. His encouragement of black self-reliance and his support for black institutions made him a popular figure, and, in 1972, he gave up his studies to become honorary president of the Black People's Convention (BPC), a coalition of over 70 black groups. SASO had decided to form this body since both the main parties supported by black South Africans - the African National Congress and the Pan-African Congress - had been banned. But the BPC was not trying to compete with the ANC and PAC. 'There will be one movement of revolt against the system of injustice', Biko said. The BPC wanted to unite blacks with the aim of freeing them from 'psychological and physical oppression' and it intended to 'popularise and implement the philosophy of Black Consciousness and black solidarity'. It also believed in trying to create a society which was based on social, judicial and economic equality. Biko explained Black Consciousness: 'The black man is a defeated being who finds it very difficult to lift himself up by his bootstrings. He is alienated - alienated from himself, from his friends, and from society in general. He is made to live all the time concerned with matters of existence: "What shall I eat tomorrow?" We felt that we must attempt to defeat and break this kind of attitude and to instil once more a sense of human dignity within the black man. So what we did was to design various types of programmes, present these to the black community with an obvious illustration that these are done by black people for the sole purpose of uplifting the black community.' Biko and his group were put under government bans which severely restricted their movements and their freedom of speech and association. They were frequently imprisoned. When Biko died in prison, the government claimed it was because he had gone on hunger strike. Few believed this and there was outrage across the world. (This was partly because of publicity from a well-known white South African journalist, Donald Woods, who had known Biko well, and had himself gone into exile in Britain.) It emerged at Biko's inquest that he had been held in a cell for 20 days, naked, deprived of exercise, unable to communicate with anyone, half-starved and beaten. Doctors were amongst those officers who tried to cover up the way he had died. Those who beat him to death have now been named and forced to appear before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.DEDAN KIMATHI Field Marshal Dedan Kimathi Waciuri was the head of the Mau Mau, a militant group that waged a guerrilla war against the British colonial government in Kenya. Kenya's independence from British rule is largely attributed to the spirited fight the Mau Mau put up under the stewardship of Dedan Kimathi. The Mau Mau began as the Land and Freedom Army, a militant Kikuyu army out to reclaim their land that had been stripped from them by the colonialists. As its influence and membership widened it became a major threat to the colonialists. The Mau Mau movement sprung from Central kenya, home of the populous Kikuyu community. The movement, eventhough heavily Kikuyu, enjoyed nationwide support as it forced the colonialists to pay attention to Kenyan demands. The Mau Mau was outlawed in 1952, amid rising tensions in the Kenya political scene. The banning also saw a massive round-up of Kenyan political leaders, including Kenya's first President, Jomo Kenyatta. On February 18, 1957, Dedan Kimathi was executed by the colonialists at the notorious Kamiti Maximum Prison, where his remains are still believed to be buried in an unmarked grave. This has been a very contentious issue among Kenyans, and indeed other prominent African nationalists like President Nelson Mandela, who believe that Kimathi is a legendary figure and should be accorded a state burial with full rights. Such requests have fallen on deaf ears for reasons nobody can/or will ever comprehend. In fact, on President Mandela's last visit to Kenya in 1990, he almost caused a major embarrassment to President Moi's administration when he inquired about the whereabouts of Kimathi's widow. Of course this does not mean that most Kenyans are blood-thirsty fellows who endorse violence as a means of resolving issues. Its simply an admiration most of them hold towards Kimathi , a poor fellow, who mastered the courage to take up arms and fight injustices perpetrated by a seemingly undefeatable power

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation. Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity. But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition. In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children. It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. *We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: "For Whites Only."* We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹ I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends. And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today! I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today! I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."² This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning: My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, From every mountainside, let freedom ring! And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. But not only that: Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia. Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring. And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!³ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Text within asterisks was added on 3/31/06. Credit Randy Mayeux for bringing the omissions to my attention. ¹ Amos 5:24 (rendered precisely in The American Standard Version of the Holy Bible) ² Isaiah 40:4-5 (King James Version of the Holy Bible). Quotation marks are excluded from part of this moment in the text because King's rendering of Isaiah 40:4 does not precisely follow the KJV version from which he quotes (e.g., "hill" and "mountain" are reversed in the KJV). King's rendering of Isaiah 40:5, however, is precisely quoted from the KJV. ³ At: http://www.negrospirituals.com/news-song/free_at_last_from.htm Video Source: Linked directly to: http://www.earthstation1.com/ Also in this database: Martin Luther King, Jr: A Time to Break Silence External Link: http://www.mlkmemorial.org/ External Link: http://www.thekingcenter.org/ Copyright Status: Text, Audio = Restricted, seek permission. Images & Video = Uncertain. Copyright inquiries and permission requests may be directed to: