A serialisation of a fascinating new book by Cape Town missionary and author Ashley Cloete about love across the colour divide in the apartheid era. Each week we will publish a new chapter. YOU CAN ORDER THE E-BOOK VERISION AT https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1144423 or https://
In far-away Berlin, the members of the church brass band were all set to welcome the new Vikar [curate] from South Africa the next morning, on the 1st of April. When they received the news that I had broken my ankle, everybody thought that it was an April fool’s joke.
They soon learnt that this was not the case; I had indeed broken my ankle, just a few hours before my scheduled departure. A few weeks later the West Berlin Moravian congregation enjoyed the privilege of an inaugural sermon with a difference: I walked to the pulpit with my leg still in a plaster cast!
At a German Moravian pastors’ conference in May 1974, I shared the room with Eckhard Buchholz, a missionary from the Transkei in South Africa. Unlike so many other people, he was not sceptical at all about the fact that the South African government intended to grant independence to a ‘homeland’. Transkei was one of the enclaves by means of which the apartheid regime attempted to reduce the numbers of ‘Blacks’ in the so called ‘White South Africa’. Eckhard challenged me to come and work in the Transkei after the commencement of independence of the ‘homeland’, expected to follow in 1976. He was confident that Transkei would not take over the racist prohibition of mixed marriages. I gladly accepted the challenge, encouraging him to send me audio cassettes so that I could start learning Xhosa. And so I did.
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I was quite determined to return to the African continent as soon as possible. Taking for granted that Rosemarie wanted to be a missionary one day, I expected that she would join me as my wife to the Transkei. During her visit to West Berlin soon thereafter, I casually communicated my intention to return to Southern Africa. I was completely taken by surprise to hear that she was not at all ready to follow me back to ‘Africa’.
Neither of us was prepared for this turn of events. What could we do now? On the issue of our future abode, we seemed to be miles apart – both figuratively as well as literally! In our utter despair, we cried to God for help! We loved each other so dearly. We didn’t want to part, yet this was a matter we had to agree upon. We knew that it had to be sorted out immediately. We loved each other far too much.
In complete desperation we prayed together, asking God to guide us through His Word. Divine intervention seemed to be the only possibility for saving our union. Both of us knew that it would not be the ‘proper’ way to handle Scripture, but we decided to seek God’s will by prayerfully opening the Bible at random. When the Word of God fell open at the verse where Ruth said to Naomi, “I shall go where you go,” we were filled with awe and thankfulness. We were elated as we sensed that this was God’s special word for us. We could go into the unknown future together, and that’s what both of us dearly longed for!
Had we discussed the issue further, we would have encountered a big problem; both of us interpreted the Bible verse in our own way. I trusted that this meant Rosemarie would join me in going back to Africa. She thought that I would now stay in Europe at least a couple of years. Thankfully, we didn’t pursue the matter further. For that moment, parting was not an issue any more. We were overjoyed at this confirmation that we would be serving the Lord together, wherever He would lead us!
In September 1974 I was back in southern Germany. In the tiny village of Bad Boll, at the headquarters of the European continental province of the Moravian Church, I joined the Predigerseminar [preachers’ seminary] to be prepared for ordination. With three other Vikare [curates] I was now studying there, in preparation for independent pastoral service.
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I expected to work in Germany for three years or so at the maximum, and then return to South Africa – more specifically the Transkei – with my future wife Rosemarie. But with time, it became clear to Rosemarie and myself that living together in Southern Africa was not quite ‘on’ yet for us as a married couple. We really wanted Rosemarie to get acquainted with my country and, if at all possible, get to know my family. For the third time, but with increased hope, Rosemarie applied for a visa to enter South Africa. Along with the application she sent an explanatory letter, mentioning the fact that I was now living in Germany. We reasoned that a major obstacle to a visa should have been eliminated because of this. The Moravian Church Board in South Africa cooperated optimally once again. Rosemarie was invited to come and work as a volunteer at the Elim Home for children with severe disabilities for a period of two months. She would thus be serving on the same mission station where my parents lived. Theoretically, my darling and my parents would thus be able to get to know each other well over this time.
At the same time, we also started to make plans and preparations to get married after Rosemarie’s return from South Africa in May the following year. We were quite encouraged when we were informed that the Special Branch (of the police) had left a message in Elim: Rosemarie and I could come to South Africa together, on condition that we would not alert the press. At that point in time we had no intention whatsoever of going to South Africa as a couple. Therefore it really took us by surprise when instead of the requested two months, Rosemarie received a visa for only two weeks. A ticket for two weeks would have been much more expensive.
We were grateful nonetheless that she managed to get a visa at last! That was progress in our eyes. And hadn’t the Special Branch given us an idea? The thought of spending our honeymoon in South Africa was so enticing! We decided to bring forward our original wedding date, to be in South Africa for the Easter holidays. We were not going to passively accept whatever the South African government decided on our behalf, so we went ahead to book flights with Luxavia, the cheapest travel option at that time.
The activism which had taken hold of me ever since my return from Europe in 1970 and which had been substantially fed during my seminary days, was fuelled anew. I had no idea about the stress I caused for my darling when I prompted her to write the following letter:
Gündelbach, 10th December, 1974
Dear Mr Consul,
I thank you very much for granting me a visa. Thus far I have not been able to use it, because I have learnt that the cheaper flights are only applicable from 19 days [stay in South Africa].
My fiancé and I have now decided to undertake the trip after our marriage. We would like to spend four weeks in South Africa. Could you please extend the visa to four weeks? If this is not possible, we would like to hear it soon, so that we can apply timely for visas to other neighbouring countries within the 19-45 days tariff. I want to make it clear, however, that we would rather spend the full four weeks in South Africa.
Yours in high esteem,
Rosemarie Göbel.
Although the Consulate in Munich was notified fairly promptly by Pretoria to give Rosemarie a conditional visa to enter the country without me, the details were unclear. Plagued by the uncertainty of whether the visa would be extended or not, Rosemarie decided to phone the South African Consulate in Munich directly for clarification. The lady on the other side of the telephone line was very impolite in her dealings, deeming it necessary to point out to Rosemarie very crudely that her fiancé should know the South African laws.
This phone call led to an adventurous but nerve-wracking correspondence with the authorities in Pretoria, which unfortunately didn’t bring about the desired result. In the end we felt compelled to get clarity by undertaking the 200 kilometer drive to Munich to see if we could get the matter sorted out. We did this in February 1975, about a month before our proposed new wedding date. At the Consulate in Munich we discovered that Pretoria had already notified the Consulate in January that Rosemarie had been allocated a visa for four weeks, albeit under the condition that she would “not travel to South Africa accompanied by [her] future husband.” The lady at the Consulate warned us not to try and circumvent this condition.
Unwittingly, she gave us an idea. Initially I didn’t see any problem with the condition, I was so elated that Rosemarie had received a visa at last to visit my home country! In her Renault R4 on our way back from Munich, my darling had an apt but vexing rhetorical question for me: “What sort of honeymoon is that?” She wasn’t prepared to go to my heimat [fatherland] alone any more. All the arrangements for our wedding had more or less been finalised by this time. Rosemarie’s question hit me by surprise and I had no answer ready! With a fearful heart I agreed to travel separately. We would thus defy the warning of the Consulate official. We knew that I could be arrested. The prospect of spending my honeymoon in prison was not so enticing, but I agreed to take the risk.
To ensure that our plans would not be wrecked at Jan Smuts Airport, Johannesburg, I became untruthful. I gave the impression in my correspondence to my parents and friends that Rosemarie would come alone. I felt that the risk would be too great to inform anybody of our intention to circumvent the condition of the visa. It would have been quite easy for the government to send one (or both) of us back with the next flight or to lock me up as I still possessed a South African passport.
We altered our traveling plans, cancelling the booking with Luxavia and booked instead on two separate flights to comply with the condition of the visa. The new 19-75 day tariff had a distinct advantage which was of special interest to us. One could change any booking from one international airline to another free of charge. We would be able to take advantage of the fact that the condition of Rosemarie’s visa said nothing about leaving the country together.
Our friend and confidant from my seminary days, Reverend Henning Schlimm, had just returned from South Africa with his family. He was due to take up a post as minister of the Moravian Church in Königsfeld (Black Forest), where I had resumed my stay in Germany, and where I had broken my ankle. It seemed almost obvious that we should marry there and ask Henning to perform the ceremony.
Unfortunately we could not consider marrying from Rosemarie’s parental home, although her mother had participated fully in all the preparations. I had not met her father again since that day soon after my arrival in November 1973, after which Rosemarie had to leave her parental home. Nevertheless, we kept on praying, hoping that a miracle might still happen and that Papa Göbel would change his mind to attend our wedding.
Rosemarie wrote a loving letter to her father, apologising for the hurts caused by our relationship and pleading with him to attend our wedding. Sadly, he was not to be swayed to come to Königsfeld. We were under the impression that he was stubbornly sticking to his guns. He did not see his way clear to attend the wedding, having made plans to visit an uncle that day. We were grateful that he gave his wife full freedom to act in line with her own convictions.
On Thursday the 20th March 1975 (two days before the church ceremony), we became husband and wife legally in Rosemarie’s home town, Mühlacker. We deemed it a special blessing that her mother agreed to serve as witness, along with Elke Maier, who had such a big part in the run-up to this moment.
Nonetheless, a bit of a cloud hung over the proceedings because my parents and family were not represented and Papa Göbel had no liberty as yet to participate.
On the Saturday, the stage was set for our church wedding ceremony. I was quite content with the simplicity which the German wedding custom allows. The German custom does not prescribe bridesmaids and best men, or special clothing for the flower girls and page boys. That suited our pocket perfectly in the light of our honeymoon plans.
The wintry conditions in Königsfeld could not mar our joy. Virtually until the last minute we were busy with preparations and chores like removing ice from the windows of our wedding ‘limousine’, Rosemarie’s little Renault R4. I also assisted with the boiling of eggs for the reception.
The Königsfeld church choir rose to the occasion with a splendid performance of ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s desiring’, giving the service a festive touch. The highlight of the church ceremony was undoubtedly the sermon. Our friend and mentor Reverend Henning Schlimm understood magnificently to intertwine parts of the thorny road up to our marriage with the biblical verse that we had requested him to speak on. Many a tear was shed; we were overawed by God’s goodness and grace. Hadn’t we experienced through the years clearly enough how He bore us on His wings? Our hearts were filled with gratitude and joy towards the mighty God whom we would serve together, joined in marriage.
Despite the indescribable joy we experienced that day at finally uniting in marriage, and the sense of gratitude towards God for his favour on us, there were still those two issues hanging over us. For one, Rosemarie’s father did not attend the joyous celebration and had not given our marriage his official blessing. And then, the laws in South Africa were still against us. What would happen on our honeymoon? Was trouble awaiting us? Would I get arrested? Would we be caught out together?
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