The land reform issue makes me feel radical

The "New Year" is a tender infant of 55 days old. Yes, only 55.

Yet globally, we can all boast of disastrous political conditions and developments in our respective landscapes. Developments that are inextricably linked to heritage, ancestry and land redistributions as a mechanism for reparations. How, you may wonder?

Let’s walk through it – but first, some context. In the last couple of weeks, media and social media has been abuzz with the utterances of US President Donald Trump suggesting a white genocide and oppression of the Boer race in SA, our land. Subsequently, there were announcements to cut ties and funding to SA while offering refuge to Afrikaners who allegedly live in constant and continuous fear of further persecution that threatens their safety and livelihoods.

Now I think it is only fair to categorically denounce the propaganda spread by AfriForum, which seems to be the primary source for Trump’s misinformation about SA's political landscape. Fortunately, we have political leaders who can be quite solid at times, and they have categorically denounced the false claims, while some are directly responding to a bully (Trump) with strength. President Cyril Ramaphosa, in his state of the nation speech, assured local and international audiences that: “We are, as South Africans, a resilient people, and we will not be bullied.”

I mean, say what you want, but Tatu’Cupcake came through as the nation's patriarch in that moment. The discussion on land redistribution is a painful one for thousands of black  families whose grandparents, aunts and uncles were forcibly removed from their ancestral homes, forced into migrant labour and allocated “matchbox houses”.

Their land was re-appropriated to white Afrikaners while black migrants shared two-bedroomed houses, often housing more than five people. Many of those who found themselves in a newly migrant status and environment had to part ways with more than just land, but their livestock and their actual livelihoods. For many, the land had been in their families for generations and often housed the bones of their forefathers.

Today, some of those lands are commercial farms, game reserves and luxury estates. Literally, people’s ancestral homes ... their connection to the earth through birthright, carrying spiritual ties definitive of who they are. Just downright shockingly unimaginable, right? I saw a Tweet some time ago in response to a news article that covered the leasing of an airport in Bhisho to a foreign national leader and his family.

Twitter user Nkululeko Mhlaba (@mhlabaNkululeko) shared his family’s painful history: “My maternal grandfather was removed by the apartheid government from this land to build the airport, which forced him to become a migrant worker in Port Elizabeth (Gqeberha). Our family claim has been pending for 20 years, and they ask us to resubmit certified documents every two years. Most of our aunts and uncles have passed away. What an injustice.”

The even more astounding thing for me as a nearly-born-free is the volume, in numbers, of people with similar stories and histories. A personal account from Face of Africa states: (@masoso.langa): "At home, we have to ask the son of a white man who took our grandfather's home farm from him to visit our family's graves. He only allows us two visits a year.”

I think stories like this re-radicalise me to the core. I mean, grave sites are a sacred resting place for the physical forms of the spirits of the undead. Imagine having to reduce every fibre of your being to seek permission from actual land thieves to be able to pay your respects at family grave sites.

That sounds horrendous and I am unequivocally apologetic to the family that must go through that. To leave you on a more positive note, I want to remind you that we are a new democracy with much to figure out. If you believe in a fair and equitable SA, I think it is prudent to not be denialist of our history, while seeking for reparations where possible – regardless of your race.

And yes, this is my wishful way of hoping that the Afrikaners themselves would jump on the equality bandwagon and push for property to be returned to its rightful owners (laugh at me, with me). Land redistribution is a great first step in the direction of justice and it is my hope that those families seeking resolution can finally be given justice.