CRYSTAL DICKS: RIP TO THE ONE WHO LOVED SWAZIS BEFORE THEY KNEW THEY DESERVED IT
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I first encountered Comrade Crystal Dicks during my time at the University of KwaZulu-Natal, when I was helping to coordinate a KZN chapter of the Swaziland National Union of Students (SNUS) across institutions of higher learning in South Africa’s southeast. It was around the time of the economic collapse of 2011, and many of us in the diaspora were struggling to understand the political and economic decay gripping our homeland.
We formed the Swaziland Diaspora Platform, where Swazis studying and working in South Africa —from UKZN and DUT to Mangosuthu University and the surrounding townships — met to reflect on our country’s politics and future. It was in this context that I first met Crystal, initially online, when she was brought in to help finalise a publication that would become one of the most powerful educational tools of our movement: the Swaziland Popular Educator's Network (SPEN).
SPEN was envisioned as a toolkit for activists in the democratic struggle. It was meant to help activists understand Swaziland through a working-class lens. It tackled themes of gender, international solidarity, community organising, and the political economy of our country. Crystal gave the manual structure, depth, and coherence. She anchored our ideas in real-world examples, linking Swaziland’s struggle to liberation movements across the world.
In her hands, SPEN became not just a manual, but a living document of resistance. It became a reflection of her intellect, discipline, and revolutionary spirit. To me SPEN is by far her greatest contribution to the people of eSwatini. Later, we met in Johannesburg. By then I had dropped out of university (because of fees of course), weighed down by disappointment and shame. I felt like a failure, but Crystal’s compassion and humanity revived me.
She opened her home and her heart. I lived with her, witnessed her highs and lows, and was embraced by her warmth. Her home became a haven for exiles, a space for Swazi activists to gather, debate, and dream. It was filled with laughter, music, and political fire. Her courage was legendary. I remember vividly one of our most daring acts together. The King had called Sibaya around 2012 and Crystal happened to be in eSwatini. We decided to do the unthinkable and attend Sibaya and distribute pamphlets calling for democracy right at the belly of the beast.
The night before, we tried to recruit comrades, but most were too afraid, save for one brave soul. The following day we travelled to Ludzidzini with her little daughter, who was only about two years old then, and a car full of pamphlets. We slipped past heavy security and entered the cattle byre, placing pamphlets where the wind could scatter them. But the wind had other plans. It blew the pamphlets into the air before we had even left. Suddenly, the place was swarming with police and soldiers searching every car.
As we approached the gate, Crystal — quick-thinking as ever — pinched her daughter, who began to cry hysterically. We pretended we were rushing her to hospital. The soldiers, seeing a distraught mother who didn’t speak siSwati and assuming she was a tourist, waved us through. The next day, the media reported about the mysterious pamphlets at Sibaya. We felt like heroes. That was Crystal; brave, strategic, and fearless. She carried her ideals not just in her head, but in her bones.
Her compassion was just as remarkable. When the late trade unionist Vincent Ncongwane was hospitalised in Johannesburg, Crystal was among his most regular visitors. She often took us along, showing by example what solidarity truly meant. Vincent never forgot her kindness. I never forgot too that for our comrades Crystal was teaching us to be there at their lowest. Beyond politics, she was a connector of souls. She once introduced me to someone who became my girlfriend and to this day, there are comrades i know who are married because of Crystal’s gift for bringing people together.
That was Crystal at her element. Her house was always open for meetings, political schools, and even celebrations. I remember after the ANC’s Siyanqoba rally in 2007, she hosted one of the most memorable after-parties, attended by leading figures in COSATU and the broader progressive movement. It was through her that I met Phindile Kunene and Dr Themba Masondo, activists from SASCO and the ANCYL, with whom I had some of the most enriching political discussions of my life.
To this day I still defer to Phindi's social media posts to make sense of SA politics. I must also confess: I wasn’t always a perfect friend. Twice, I messed up her first car, once by giving someone a lift who accidentally spilled paint on her back seat, and another time when I crashed and broke her window. Yet, even after all that, she still lent me her car. She’d fill up the tank herself and insist I use it to visit my mother or attend meetings in eSwatini. When I was struggling financially in Johannesburg, Crystal paid my rent, bought me food, and ensured I never went without. She was everything to me. A mentor, sister, and friend. She shaped my politics, modelled my sense of justice, and deepened my internationalism.
She taught me to see the world through the lens of solidarity be it Palestine, Western Sahara, and Cuba, to Venezuela and other struggles of the Global South. Even her daughter’s name, Hanin, was a statement of that internationalism — an Arabic word meaning “longing for home.” It was symbolic, because for Crystal, eSwatini was not yet the home it needed to be — but she longed for its freedom for her daughter. She abhorred materialism with all her might. I remember once she hosted a strategy session at her house, and Swazi comrades arrived in flashy, top-of-the-range cars.
She was visibly upset, questioning why leaders of the oppressed drove vehicles that outshone even South African trade unionists. To her, humility was a revolutionary act. She was disgusted by how some comrades had turned politics into a playground for greed and gluttony. We learnt from her humility and compassion. She loved to laugh — a deep, generous laugh that filled every room. She often invited us to her political education sessions in the labour movement, where she was a fearless voice against misogyny and injustice.
Her feminism was unapologetic, her convictions unshakeable. She stood her ground against powerful men and institutions, never allowing herself to be silenced. Crystal Dicks lived her politics not as a performance, but as a daily practice of compassion, justice, and love. She gave everything she had to the movement and expected nothing in return. She loved Swazis before we knew we deserved love. She married our struggle and made extra ordinary sacrifices.
We hurt her, we disappointed her and we let let her down but she never lost hope on the future of our nation. Her passing leaves an unfillable void. But her spirit endures in every political school, every act of defiance, every comrade she touched, and every soul she inspired. Rest in power, Comrade Crystal Dicks. Your love was your politics. Your politics was your life. And your life remains our greatest lesson.