On Groenewald – Donald Woods in NYT in 1983:

‘In November 1975 Mr. Breytenbach began his solitary confinement in Pretoria's maximum security section - a confinement interrupted only by three bizarre events. After repeated petitioning by Afrikaner writers such as Andre Brink, Mr. Breytenbach was allowed to see a new edition of his work. The prison authorities interpreted this literally, however - he was allowed to see the volume but not read it. On another day Mr. Breytenbach was removed from his cell by the senior security police officer, Colonel Broodryk, and taken to the latter's home. The colonel, who admired Mr. Breytenbach's writing, walked with him in the garden and introduced him to his two daughters, who asked for and received his autograph. Colonel Broodryk later allowed Mr. Breytenbach to write a book of poetry in prison and, without consulting the author, arranged for the printers to dedicate the volume to himself.
The most bizarre incident began when a warder broke all the rules of the prison to whisper into Mr. Breytenbach's cell that he was a secret ally named Groenewald, who wished to help the prisoner escape and was prepared to smuggle letters and messages to friends outside. It was such a crude attempt to win his trust that Mr. Breytenbach made his responses sound absurdly naive or indistinct, guessing, correctly, that he was being tape-recorded by Groenewald. Mr. Breytenbach played along, accepting writing materials and sending out several letters to Yolande and others, hoping some might get through as part of the official campaign to win his trust, and he verbally led Groenewald into ever wilder realms of speculation about sabotage targets.’

Read the article here.

It can help to run into a colonel who is also a lover of literature. Especially when the colonel has two daughters who appreciate literature as well.
We are here in the territory of Heinrich Heine.

‘Give me that love/ which won't rot between fingers,’ Breytenbach wrote.

But these days we should be happy with love that rots between fingers. Rotten love is also love.