The Dolphin Unit: A Legacy of Resistance in Apartheid South Africa

IOL News

18 hours ago

(From left) The Dolphin Unit's Iqbal Shaikh, Mohamed Ismail, Aboobaker Ismail and ANC veteran Mac Maharaj at the TRC hearings on May 7, 1998.
Image: Supplied
For over three decades, the remarkable story of Umkhonto we Sizwe's Special Operations Unit has remained largely untold. Formed under the direct command of ANC president Oliver Tambo and senior ANC and SACP leader Joe Slovo, this elite unit executed some of the most daring and high-profile attacks against the apartheid state in the 1980s. In this groundbreaking book by ANC and SACP activist Yunus Carrim, the history of Special Ops is brought to life through the voices of its surviving participants. This is an account of the Dolphin Unit that conducted some of MK's most successful military operations
Neighbours and friends
With 35 operations between 1982 and 1988 and a role in the ANC's Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK's) ordnance division from then until 1993, the Dolphin Unit was one of the longest-surviving and most successful MK units. Initially made up of Iqbal Shaikh and Mohamed Ismail, it became a one-person unit of Shaikh from 1985.
Born in 1958, Shaikh was raised in Vrededorp, Johannesburg. He came from 'a typical apolitical trading family. When all the clan gathered at Granny's kitchen table, political conversations were avoided. If a topic had political undertones, the elders would shrug it off, citing how important the family business was and almost always referring to the atrocities that could befall us if the blacks took over. The Durban 1949 race riots inevitably came up, followed by the Uganda story, where Amin expelled the Indians.
'At Grandpa's two busy dress shops, where we kids came daily to meet our parents after school, we knew to greet any white customer as Goeie môre, Baas or Meisie and never to take offence at the Ja, coolie reply.'
Shaikh's stepfather had a dairy delivery business.
'When I reached the gate of the houses, the incessant barking of dogs, followed by the little white kids 'Ma, die melkkoelie is hier [Mother, the milk-coolie is here].
'We often complained to Papa about why we should address these dirty, bare-footed, little white kids with respect, whilst they called us 'coolie'. Papa would urge us to ignore them and remind us how important white customers were.'
From fifteen onwards, Shaik got involved in fights, joined a gang, truanted, left school at sixteen, and found an administrative job.
Vrededorp had a tradition of Congress activities. Underground ANC activist Ahmed Timol's death in detention impacted Shaikh. And when the 1976 Soweto uprising erupted, Shaikh was upset at the brutality of white policemen.
He moved to Durban to live with an aunt and go back to school.
At the M L Sultan Technical College, he was propelled into a student leader position. It was around the food and other conditions at the residences. Later, the sectarian and class divisions among and between Muslim, Hindi-speaking and Tamil-speaking Hindu students. His interventions helped to encourage more contact between students across the divides.
When the 1980 student boycott fizzled out, Shaikh felt that the Natal Indian Congress and the parents' moderation contributed to this. Disappointed, he quit college.
He returned to Johannesburg and linked up with 'Chacha' – Mohamed Ismail. Shaikh's family lived near his family. They used to play 'cowboys and crooks, hide and seek, and more'.
Born in 1953, Chacha 'could see the injustice, police brutality, whites beating up black people walking in the street, and nothing happened. Mozambique became independent, and the political climate was changing. It was necessary as a Muslim and self-styled socialist to become politically active against apartheid.'
Through Prema Naidoo and others, he became politically active in the Transvaal Indian Congress.
Former ANC Member of Parliament Yunus Carrim narrates the untold stories of the ANC's MK Special Operations Unit.
Image: Supplied
Joining MK's Special Ops
Shaikh threw himself into civic and political struggles in Lenasia. There was constant tension between the Black Consciousness (BC) and Congress activists. The militancy of BC activists suited Shaikh's temperament and brand of politics. But he finally opted for the 'Congressites', influenced by the politics in the Naidoo household.
He increasingly felt that 'this mass politics is not for me. I want to go to the next level. It was convenient to be in mass politics and not the armed struggle because that was a harder option.'
So, he approached Chacha to link him to the ANC. Chacha's brother, Aboobaker Ismail, had joined MK and would at times meet their parents in Swaziland. In September 1981, Chacha took Shaikh with them.
In a hotel room, Ismail (MK: Rashid) ran a tap, switched on the television and asked them to sit away from the window. This was their first lesson in underground activity. They were trained then and on subsequent trips on urban guerrilla warfare, including the use of limpet mines and pistols.
MK operatives created a hidden compartment in a Peugeot for them to transport weapons in.
On their first attempt, as Shaikh and Chacha got to the border, it was 'very tense, we had sweaty palms, but you had to keep your composure. There was silence at the border, each with his thoughts. When we were barely three minutes over the border into South Africa, we erupted spontaneously into emotional yelling and handshakes. Perhaps the best high five in all my life!'
They would bury the weapons in dead letter boxes (DLBs), mainly in Lenasia.
'It was backbreaking work. We weren't used to manual work. The gardeners did that. Now we had to dig up hard ground in the dark of the Highveld winter. It's work fraught with difficulties, sometimes more dangerous than hitting the target.'
The Dolphin Unit
Called the Dolphin Unit, they started with low-level targets in December 1982, and with experience, took on bigger targets. These included police and army offices, railway lines, electricity pylons, government buildings, the Ciskei consulate, big businesses that fired workers, a fuel depot and more*.
On 10 October 1983, President PW Botha was to address a Kruger Day gathering in the Warmbaths civic centre. The unit decided to hit the civic centre and a fuel depot about a kilometre away.
'The night before the operation, on their dry run, an aggressive white man blocked a café entrance and shouted at Chacha, 'Koelie, wat doen jy hier [Coolie, what are you doing here]?'
'We passively passed by and bought our snacks for the road home. Walking back. I told Chacha you should have replied, 'Baas, ek doen niks vanaand, maar ek kom weer môre [Boss, I'm not doing anything tonight, but I'll be back tomorrow].' We laughed and returned home.'
The fuel depot was damaged at about 02:20, but the limpet at the civic centre was discovered and defused.
Shaikh said, 'The regime claimed that highly trained terrorists [laughter] were involved and planned to annihilate the cream of society.'
In late 1986, Shaikh and Chacha went to East Germany for training.
On landing, the pilot announced their names and asked them to disembark. 'What's this about? I was scared there might be [apartheid] security branch guys among the passengers.'
An East German government official came onto the plane and took them away in a Mercedes, followed by a military vehicle. 'It's everything we've seen in the movies. We were very surprised …'
They were trained for three months. Shaikh observed 'all the little contradictions we'd heard about in Soviet-style communism. It was demoralising.'
He later said that their 'special advantage was our mobility as Indians. We were less visible as MK operatives and less detectable than our African cadres.'
In crossing the South African border, 'we would weaponise our ethnicity. We used apartheid racial profiling to our advantage. By neat business attire, briefcase with brochures, bank notes, samples of a commodity, politeness at all times, and half a dozen samoosas ready on hand, nobody suspected. This was no passport to freedom, but it helped.'
While helping out in the family takeaway business, it was easy for Shaikh to reconnoitre targets in the city centre. 'I often wore a toppie and kurta to disguise what I was doing. I was almost rubbing shoulders in the passageways with people linked to my targets, who would never think that I could be in MK.'
He could plant limpet bombs inside buildings during work hours to go off at night, when there was nobody around.
In communicating with Rashid over the phone, they would use coded words in Gujarati.
Being part of a gang as a teenager and a streetfighter, as well as his instinct for challenging authority, contributed to Shaikh's success as a guerrilla. His temperament also drew him to the armed struggle. His impatience with mass struggles, the endless speech-making of leaders, the trade-offs and the failure to get more results more quickly all steered him into the armed struggle. His faith in the armed struggle drove him to be results-driven. He certainly had an adventurous, daring spirit.
Shaikh's long association with Rashid and Chacha as neighbours and a shared cultural background made for a level of trust.
'Igs [Shaikh] had that X-factor,' says Farouk Farista, who worked with him in ordnance
'To have the ability to do what he did and survive takes a remarkable human being. And he did it on his own, which requires an incredible amount of tenacity.
'He thought through every single thing with incredible detail. He never took blind chances. He knew how to play it, and he was very smart about not exposing himself and not blowing his trumpet and taking credit.'
Shaikh doesn't have a sense of entitlement. After 1994, he retreated from politics. He didn't seek a post in the state.
I never felt owed. I didn't want anything because I did the bombings. I had no qualifications. I'm just an ordinary Fietas guy who got into the situation.
* The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL, Independent Media or The African.