11/07/2014 Witness


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Welcome to Witness, our look back at history as told by the people who


were there. I'm in the very heart of London at the British library, which


is home to hundreds and hundreds of years of priceless manuscripts and


archive material. This month, we talked to a South African woman,


who, as a schoolgirl, organised an uprising. A survivor of a Second


World War massacre. And a footballer who scored the winning goal in a


World Cup. But first to China. It is 25 years since the massacre in


Tiananmen Square. This young man was just one of thousands who


demonstrated, protesting in the centre of Beijing, when the military


moved in. Nobody knows how many people were killed, injured or


arrested in the crackdown of June, 1989. He was just 18. Tiananmen


Square is designed to fit at least a couple of million people. It was


bumper`to`bumper full. You could feel at the time that something was


going on. You could see millions of ordinary citizens of Beijing


blocking army lorries from coming in. 10,000 Chinese troops have tried


to seize control of the centre of the king tonight `` Beijing tonight.


Their demands were for democracy, free press and an end to corruption.


It was the last year of my high school studies. Me and five others


of my classmates. We said, we are going, and we walked out. On the 4th


of June, Central television started to broadcast this ominous message


repeatedly for quite a few hours. Those citizens, please return to


your homes. The army and security forces are coming in to clear the


city centre. If you disobey this order, you will be responsible for


all of the consequences. Most people decided to stay where they were and


are then things started to unravel. I could hear this boom, boom, boom.


You could hear those sounds. And then you start to see people


bleeding, being carried to various hospitals around you, people crying


and shouting. I felt numb. It was beyond anybody's comprehension. You


focus your mind. You are trying to get to a place of safety. For a


moment, it could be behind a dumpster, a rubbish bin. I


eventually got home. My mother was worried sick and she locked the


doors and my brother and I were still pumped. We should find a


kitchen knife or something and go out and do something. She said, you


guys, don't be stupid. You cannot affect any change at this moment.


Nothing. News reader: In the daylight hours, more violence. A


sudden and steady volley from the troops. I remember sitting on the


sofa in the living room, hearing all of the scale is going on around us.


On the second day, while you could still hear sporadic firing, nobody


dared venture too far away. You sort of poke your head out. First out of


the alleyway and then the secondary road and then trying to see whatever


is going on. The first thing was littered worlds burned`out army


trucks. I even sought to armoured personnel carriers burned`out from


inside. Tangled bicycles that had been driven over by heavy vehicles.


I felt an utter sense of desperation and despair. I did not feel there


was a future. My father was in Canada. He was unable to apply for a


family reunion user for my mother and my brother and I, so I was very


fortunate at the time to leave. I'm taking you to the World Cup,


now. Not this year's World Cup but the 160 years ago and the man who


scored the winning goal. `` but the one that was 60 years ago. Back


then, he was a 23`year`old winger from Uruguay. Now, he is 87 but he


is still known as the man who made Brazil cry. TRANSLATION: I played


for Uruguay at the Maracana Stadium in 1950. We were the underdogs.


Brazil had been winning their matches by four, five, six goals.


The Brazilian papers had special editions ready with the headline:


Brazil! Champions of the world! They had built the huge Maracana Stadium


especially because they thought they would win the World Cup. We got


there three hours early because it was so full. When the Brazilian team


went out, they brought the house down. Their fans were already


jumping up and down with joy and if Brazil had one, it would have been a


carnival. `` if the deal had won the World Cup, it would have been a


carnival. I was just thinking about winning. I never like to lose a


football match. We knew that Brazil would press hard at the start but we


were ready for that. And we managed to keep it at 0`0 until half`time


will stop but then, Brazil got the ball to their forward. He shot and


our goalkeeper dived but he could not reach it. Then our captain


said, lads, we have got to go for it! We started to attack, attack,


attack! I passed the ball to my team`mate. He took a shot and put it


in the net. It was 1`1! Luckily, with 11 minutes to go, I got the


ball on the wing. And I went straight towards the goal. The


keeper left a little gap in the goal, so I had a split second to


decide whether to pass or shoot. I shot and it went to the left of the


keeper. He could not stop it and that was our second goal. It was


very beautiful, very exciting. It was the best goal I ever scored. The


stadium went cold. The fans stopped cheering and there was an enormous


silence. The Brazilian players went cold themselves. They did not look


like a team who needed to get a goal back. It stayed at 2`1. The referee


blew the whistle and we went mad with joy. We did a lap of honour and


we saw the Brazilians go off crying. Then we looked at the stands


and all of the fans were weeping. They had thought they were already


world champions but everything had gone wrong for them. Three people


have silenced the Maracana Stadium. The Pope, Frank Sinatra and me. It


was a heavy blow for Brazil and it still hurts them to this day. One


time, I went to Brazil and there was this young girl of 23 or 24 at


passport control, so I gave her my IDE. She asked if I was the man from


the Maracana Stadium. I said, yes, but that was a long time ago. She


said no, no, it still hurts us here. It seems Brazilians pass this


pain from generation to generation. We cannot show you a photograph of


our next witness in 1976 because the police raided her family's home and


took all of the photographs. She was a schoolgirl in Soweto when the


apartheid South African government decided that black schoolchildren


should be taught in Afrikaans. She helped organise what became known as


the Soweto uprising. I was 19 years old in a ladies high school, my


final year. Both of us had taken Afrikaans as a language but to take


it as a medium of instruction meant that every subject would then have


to be changed into Afrikaans, which we did not speak and our teachers


did not speak and essentially meant that we would fail by forcing us to


speak a language that was foreign to us and also was a language we


resented and hated as it represented everything that was meant to pull us


down. The 16th of June, when we heard at school on the day, we took


over the assembly. We were all going to converge and march to the


stadium. We then gave instructions and reminded each other of the rules


of the game. We were peaceful, we were not seeking confrontation in


any way. And when we marched, make sure that we are responsible for


somebody else, so you are holding somebody else's hand all the time.


So, it was very quiet. It was a cold day but you do not feel the cold


when you have such a big mission. As we marched, we began to hear word


that the police and then not only the police, actually there were


people from the Army... And in no time, Soweto was surrounded by the


Army. The first hour of the march, we had tear gas. We were beginning


to get scared. Then we began to hear the sound of the guns and it is a


horrible sound. It is the most horrible sound. Police were shooting


anything that was wearing a school uniform. It was like target


shooting. And we ducked and we would hide in the house of Soweto. Those


who were driving around in vehicles already had messages that two people


had died. And, scared as we were, somehow there was a readiness to


die. Certainly, that is the price that any of us would be willing to


pay. I was angry. I have never been so angry. I was ready to do


anything. I'm not surprised so many young people left and took up arms.


I was not sad. If I cried, I cried out of frustration and eight deep


anger. They took away our childhood. I think about my naivete that I


started with on that day. It ended that night. We ended that day


without these held a high. It felt good that I could still in the face


of such adversity hold my fist up and say power and get a response. To


us. Everyone knows that when you are a


teenager, you define ourselves by the clothes you wear and the music


you listen to. In the 1960s in Britain, many were either a mod or a


broker. In 1965, this man saw himself as a mod. The whole mod


theme started around 1958 or the 60s. Rock 'n roll and jazz reached


the UK and send people in slightly different directions. On one hand,


you had rockers following the American influence of rock and roll


and on the other you have modernists who followed modern jazz. The way


you dressed was an identifier. We so rockers as being greasy and


uneducated. There was always animosity. I remember once, a car


full of rockers cut me off on my scooter and I had to stop. They gave


me some wax and some cakes and laughed and jumped in their car and


drove off `` whacks and kicks. We grew up feeling oppressed by rockers


and I think that is what was behind the explosion of violence that took


place on 1964 over the bank holiday weekend. Even on the way down, we


were aware that there were more scooters going down and when we got


to the beach, there were many more of us than usual, more scooters than


usual and we were notably outnumbering the rockers. Somebody


had the idea of throwing a deck chair off onto the rockers below


them, that is probably where it first took off. The mods seemed to


break off in little groups and went off looking for trouble. Sporadic


fights broke up coming smashing windows and destruction. I seem to


recall many people being trapped on the beach. Brighton Beach is a mass


of stones. A policeman came out and kicked me on the ear. I guess I


could've been called a coward at the time because I did not start running


at police or anything. I paid good money for my outfits and I was not


going to risk getting them dirty. I felt at the time, isn't this great?


There are so many of us now, I can finally walk down the street where I


live and not worry about getting attacked by some greasy haired guy


in a leather jacket and his mates. Jeff Dexter who is quite a famous


early mod said, " When you are a mod, you are a mod all the way, from


your first mohair suit to win your hair turns grey". I have grey hair


now so I suppose I can say that is true. `` when. Half a century on and


still proud to be a mod. And why not? Let's go now to


Czechoslovakia. It is 1942, halfway through the Second World War. This


girl was 16 years old and a schoolgirl when her village was


singled out for reprisals by the Nazi occupiers after a high`profile


assassination. They filmed the uprising to use as propaganda and


the footage survived and is in the national archives in


Czechoslovakia. She takes us back to the 10th of June, 1942. TRANSLATION:


The Germans came to our house at 3:30am. They looked quite normal and


said, leave everything just as it is, you will just be taken for two


days to the school. But my father had been in World War I and knew


something was wrong and said God willing we should meet again, do not


forget God. I said, what are you talking about? We will be back in


two days. Attention, here is an official announcement. Your


refutable evidence has come to liked that this village aided and abetted


a. `` assassins. We have been occupied by the German army. The man


in charge was hard, awful. Our government in exile in England,


including the president decided that something must be done. They decided


to carry out an assassination. The funeral was on the 4th of June. At


the funeral, Hitler said that the people of Czechoslovakia should be


punished and that this sort of thing should not be tolerated and they


came up with an idea. To wipe out a village. They started shooting the


men at 7:00am. They brought in a cameraman from Prague so they could


show the world what they had done. They made a film with the village


already in flames. The church in blown up `` being. Then they


flattened it to the ground. 173 men were executed. There were around 300


of us, women and children. They called us into one of the classrooms


at the school. We went in and they wrote our names in the register. An


officer talked with me and wanted to put me with the children but looked


again at my date of birth and that saved my life. I was put with the


women and not the children. This is the biggest tragedy of the whole


story. On the 3rd of July, it let them ride home. `` they. The cards


were stamped with the date coming the 5th of July but by that time,


the children were already dead. They massacred 82 children. We women were


sent on a slow train and arrived on the 14th of June at the


concentration camp. The whole three years I hope that I would see my


father again and that we would once again be a whole family. When I came


home, it was as much of a shock as when I had arrived at the camp. I


should have been glad that there was freedom and that the war was over


but how could I be glad when my father was dead? I returned to a


funeral, not a celebration that our Republic was free again. What an


extraordinary experience hearing that story. That is all from Witness


for this month, next month we will be bringing you the story of a boat


full of environmental activists that was sunk by French secret agents.


You can see all of these films at our website at the following link.


From the, for now, thanks for joining us `` from me. Hello. Well,


after a night with more thunderstorms across the country, we


are still going to be left with a lot of heat and humidity. They


continue to push their way northwards across the UK, producing


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