Winchester lost one of its best-known figures this week - Frank Williams, one of the original Dongas Tribe, and better known as Frank the busker. I never knew him personally, but he was one of Winchester's real characters. Frank was one of the original Twyford Down road protesters in the 90s. They became known as the Dongas Tribe, and I'll explain a little more about the protest further down.
Over the years, the rest of the Dongas Tribe moved on but Frank stayed on in Winchester, living in his well-known bender at the base of St. Catherine's Hill for years. He'd walk into town and busk with his accordion with his two dogs, one which had three legs. They were a well-known little trio. Lots of folk were really fond of Frank - he was an intelligent guy and interesting to talk to.
As you can imagine, the council weren't too enamoured with Frank and the location of his bender next to a local beauty spot. They said they owned the land and fought to evict him. Frank put up a very good fight and refused to budge, trying instead to claim squatter's rights - for those outside of the UK, that means attempting to legally claim the land as his own, something people can do here in the UK if they have occupied land or property for twelve years without a break.
Frank almost won the land when the council actually had rather a lot of trouble providing the proof of their ownership. In the end though, they found it at the eleventh hour and he was finally evicted. He continued with his bender-living and stayed for years nestled over the other side of the hill, fighting for the right to stay when he needed to. I don't think he had an easy life by any means, and I get the impression it may not have been the rose-tinted romantic view of living on the land as such, but he stood his ground, stayed put and tended the small garden he'd made in the earth. Hearing the news that he's died this week is very sad. I'm glad that he got to live out his years in the bender he was so determined to keep. He was 74. He'll be missed by many in Winchester. Rest in peace Frank.
A little bit of background about the Twyford Down protest
Part of the M3 motorway was planned to go through a deep cutting at Twyford Down, just outside of Winchester (that's in southern Britain for any overseas readers).
The land it would destroy was full of wildlife, including rare butterflies and full of archaeology. Many people opposed it, both by trying to fight it legally and then by direct action. The irony was that this was some of the most protected landscape in Britain.
The land is criss-crossed with deep ditches which are the remains of ancient holloways and drovers' tracks leading into Winchester. These became known as the Dongas, from the Matabele word for "gully" and the protesters became known as the Dongas Tribe.
The Dongas protested with a passion that was, perhaps, a bit of a shock to the system. They camped out on the land through a bitter winter, threw themselves in front of bulldozers, got beaten up by security guards, and were imprisoned. Eventually, the powers won but the protesters had made the job a whole lot more difficult.
The Twyford Down protest was part of a larger anti-road movement in the UK during the 1990s which challenged the government's road-building program on environmental grounds. More protests followed a few years later at Newbury where a bypass was planned. It was a larger protest than Twyford Down, and it benefitted from some of the experience gained there. It was national news. The protesters lived in the trees, and built tunnels beneath the ground to stop the work. Eventually, again, the work was completed, but the cost and timescale had both spiralled.
Though both the Twyford Down and Newbury bypass protests were beaten, and the works were eventually finished, the bigger impact was broadly one of success. The huge road-building program was massively scaled back with many planned new roads being cancelled or at least put on hold.
You can see photos from the protest here. The video below, edited down from a longer documentary, gives a taste of it too. It's mad to think that was over 30 years ago now. Even now, it's something that divides local opinion.
The Ballad of Twyford Down
A Tribute to the Donga Tribe
Listen to me, come gather round
To hear the tale of Twyford Down.
Not dragons, Kings or Knights of Old,
But New Age heroes, brave and bold
Who for our Land are fighting still
Behind the ancient, sacred hill.
In cheerless, dull and concrete times
Grey-faced people drew the lines
And planned the roads to serve the car,
Routes to take them near and far,
Their all-important motive, speed
To ancient beauty paid no heed.
And so the townsfolk all were told
They had no choice, and land was sold.
They argued, cried and shook their fists,
Wrote letters, signed their names on lists
But pleas and protests proved in vain.
The soulless system wins again.
Behind the town’s St. Catherine’s Hill
Where Twyford’s downland lies so still
Mysterious ancient trackways meet
Worn deep by our ancestral feet.
And in this magic place so fair
Lived butterflies and orchids rare.
Now as the time was drawing near
Mechanical monsters, mindless fear
Served by faceless yellow men
Gathered there in strength – but then
From the land a power flowed
Inspired a people to fight the road.
The Dongas fought hard and long
Against the shameful, savage wrong
Being wreaked on this most precious place.
Against huge odds they turned to face
Society’s great machine gone mad,
Progress to nowhere, power gone bad.
Kicked and punched and dragged through dirt,
Assaulted, arrested, assailed and hurt,
The defiant warriors valiantly still
Defend their camp behind the hill
Where shadow travellers no longer can
Haunt an unspoilt ancient land.
The rhythm of the land is in their dance
To wake us from our imprisoning trance.
The power of the land inspired their cry;
“Aruga aruga” the machines must die.
They’ve learned to live with spirits freed
Away from “civilized” degrading greed.
But the tribe was beaten back
Rare turf and plantlife stuffed in sacks.
Behind the brutal razor wires
The yellow army guards its fires.
A nightmare landscape paves the way
For a monstrous motorway.
The struggle isn’t over yet.
The spirit in the Dongas met
Has meant that hope will never die,
The land lives on if you and I
Can hear the call and rally round
To fight the battle of Twyford Down.
By Jo Peacock , December 1992
After the motorway was finally opened a stone was erected overlooking it, inscribed with the names of those responsible for "ravaging" the land. Today, the stone lays on the ground, smashed into pieces.
Below is a recording of some of the music of the Dongas Tribe. I don't think Frank was involved with this. Pretty sure I read somewhere that this was recorded after they'd moved on from Winchester. It's good listening though. Enjoy :-)
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