It was late at night on 10 December 1987 when prison officers had woken Mzolisi Dyasi in his cell in South Africa's Eastern Cape province.

He remembers the bumpy drive to a hospital morgue where he was asked to identify the bodies of his pregnant girlfriend, his cousin and a fellow anti-apartheid fighter.

In response, he had dropped to one knee, raised his fist in the air, and attempted to shout "amandla!" ("power" in Zulu), in an act of defiance.

But the word caught in his throat as he was "totally broken", Mr Dyasi tells the BBC, recalling the sight of his loved ones under the cold, bright lights.

Four decades on, Mr Dyasi sleeps with the lights on to ward off memories of the physical and mental torture he suffered during his four years in prison.

He says that he struggled to build a life for himself in the society he fought for as an underground operative for uMkhonto we Sizwe, the armed wing of the-then banned African National Congress (ANC).

The ANC led the struggle against the racist system of apartheid, which ended in 1994 with the party's rise to power in South Africa's first multi-racial election.

A Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), which was co-chaired by the internationally renowned cleric Archbishop Desmond Tutu, was established to uncover the atrocities committed by the apartheid regime, and a state reparations fund was set up to assist some of the victims.

But much of that money has largely gone unspent.

Mr Dyasi was among about 17,000 people who received a one-off payment of 30,000 rand ($3,900; £2,400 at the time) from it in 2003, but he says that has done very little to help him.

He had wanted to complete his university education but has still not paid for courses he took in 1997.

Now in his 60s, he suffers from chronic health issues and finds it difficult to afford medication on the special pension he receives for veterans who participated in the struggle for freedom and democracy.

Professor Tshepo Madlingozi - a member of South Africa's Human Rights Commission who spoke to the BBC in his personal capacity - says the effects of apartheid continue to be devastating.

"It was not only about the killing of people, the disappearance of people, it was about locking people into intergenerational impoverishment."

He says that despite the progress made over the past 30 years, many of the "born-free generation" - South Africans born after 1994 - have inherited the cycle.

The reparations fund has about $110m untouched, with no clarity on why this is the case.

"What is the money being used for? Is the money still there?" Prof Madlingozi commented.

The government did not respond to a BBC request for comment.

Lawyer Howard Varney has spent much of his career representing victims of apartheid-era crimes and says that the story of reparations in South Africa is one of "deep betrayal" for the families affected.

He is currently representing a group of victims' families and survivors who are suing the South African government for $1.9m over what they say is its failure to adequately handle cases of political crimes that were highlighted by the now-disbanded TRC for further investigations and prosecutions.

Brian Mphahlele was polite and soft-spoken; he would pause before responding to a question, as if waiting for his thoughts to pool in his mind.

He suffered from memory loss, just one aspect of the lasting impact of the physical and psychological torture he had undergone at Cape Town's notorious Pollsmoor Prison.

Mr Mphahlele told the BBC that the 30,000 rand pay-out, which he had received for the violations he endured during his 10 years in prison, was an insult.

"It went through my fingers. It went through everybody's fingers, it was so little," the 68-year-old said on the phone last year from his nephew's home in Langa township in Cape Town, where he lived.

He felt that a more substantial payment would have enabled him to buy his own home and described his frustration at his life in Langa, where he ate at a soup kitchen three times a week.

Since he spoke to the BBC, Mr Mphahlele has died, his hope of a more comfortable life unfulfilled.

Prof Madlingozi says that South Africa became the "poster child" of racial reconciliation following the end of apartheid, and inspired the world in many ways.

"But we have also unintentionally given a wrong message, which is that a crime against humanity can be committed without consequence," he says.

Though he feels things can still be turned around.

"South Africa has an opportunity 30 years into democracy to show that you can make mistakes and fix those mistakes."

Mr Dyasi still remembers the sense of freedom and optimism he felt when he left prison in 1990 after South Africa's last white ruler FW de Klerk unbanned the ANC and other liberation movements, paving the way for anti-apartheid icon Nelson Mandela to become the first black president four years later.

But Mr Dyasi says he does not feel proud of who he is today, and his disappointment is felt by many who fought alongside him and their families.

"We don't want to be millionaires," he says. "But if the government could just look at the healthcare of these people, if it could look after their livelihood, involve them in the economic system of the country."

"There were children that were orphaned by the struggle. Some children wanted to go to school but they still can't. Some people are homeless.

"And some people would say, 'You were in prison, you were shot at. But what is it that you can show for it?'"