Non-fiction Award
Criteria: The winner should demonstrate the illumination of truthfulness, especially those forms of it that are new, delicate, unfashionable and fly in the face of power; compassion; elegance of writing; and intellectual and moral integrity.
We asked Lebogang Seale, author of One Hundred Years of Dispossession: My Family’s Quest to Reclaim Our Land (Jacana Media) some questions about the book which is shortlisted for the non-fiction award
Drawing on your subtitle My Family’s Quest to Reclaim Our Land, how would you describe “home”?
Home is more than a place of abode or a mere settlement, especially from an African perspective. It is a place where we feel that we truly belong — a destination for reunion and restoration. The quest to reclaim our land has to do with our yearning for a return to our spiritual home, an emotional space that reminds us of our earliest and most intimate experiences. There’s always something inherently sacred about that home, because physical structures and features such as mountains, hills, rivers and trees hold such a deep spiritual and symbolic meaning. Ever wondered why in many African communities, the meaning of land is often described in terms of the umbilical cords of newborn children? We are so bound to land that if we get uprooted from it, it is akin to being cut off from your nourishing roots. It gives us that rootedness, without which we feel lost. It is part of our inner self, the source of our identity, our dignity and our sanctity. It is central to our culture, our customs and sacred rites.
Unlike the majority of titles on birth rights to land, your book veers away from the theoretical: please elaborate on how you went about encapsulating the personal/your lived experience in relation to reclaiming your land.
When I set out to write this book, I knew that there had been a proliferation of books on land reform in South Africa in recent years. However, many tend to dwell a lot on the policies and reviewing the legislation set in place to address the issue, although there are also a few that are written from personal experience. That meant I had to think carefully to come up with something different. Fortunately, I knew that my family and its wider community’s experiences of living and working on white men’s farms could offer a unique and compelling story. So I weaved those lived experiences into the relevant legislations to illuminate broader issues about land reform. Additionally, to make the story more compelling, I interviewed white farmers who now occupy our land. Their views gave the book a particular dimension that makes the story intriguing. All this has brought the story closer to home, making it relatable and palatable.
In Chapter 7, “Staking a claim to our ancestral land”, you write the following: “... farming has changed a lot … it has become a science, a high-tech practice that uses sophisticated methods in a globalised world. Perhaps we can venture into partnerships with the farmers we lease the land to, to ensure … a transfer of skills. Once we are satisfied we have people … who are competent in farming, we can take over the land in phases. Gradually.” What other viable solutions to reclaiming land do you propose?
In the absence of the above, the only viable way left is for the land to be returned to its rightful way. Of course, there is a general perception that a transfer of land to its rightful owners will lead to a disruption of food security and scare off investors, leading to a Zimbabwe-like tragedy. Such views are because of the shambolic way the government is handling land reform. For instance, the government has a poor record in post-settlement support for communities that have had their land returned. Land restitution was introduced without first putting in place support mechanisms for resettled communities. There are way too many obstacles that land claimants must overcome when they have to move back to their ancestral land and re-establish themselves in the agricultural sector. The reality is that many claimants simply do not have faith in the land restitution commission or the government.
What impression do you want readers to take away with them after reading the book?
The inordinate delays to resolve the land question has not only created scepticism and cynicism about the issue, but also it has created resentment among some sections of the society. So I believe a book like mine will help people see land restitution differently, in terms of how the issue signifies the betrayal of the democratic ideal in South Africa. Clearly we cannot as a nation claim that there has been redress and justice in South Africa without restitution and equitable land redistribution. A judicious and expeditious resolution of the land question has to be the veritable starting point towards fostering reconciliation and social cohesion.
In what way do you think the book “illuminates truthfulness”?
The book is a story of land reform from below — told through the voices of people who have shared their darkest moments of dispossession and their struggles in reclaiming their ancestral land. From their voices, issues of betrayal — that theme that is so commonplace in most of post-colonial Africa — emerge. Real-life stories of never-ending, broken promises by a government that appears to have adopted a hands-off, tone-deaf approach to a constitutional imperative permeate the book. Ultimately, the book lays bare the truth about South Africa’s land reform — a promise that offers very little, if any, substantive and meaningful redress to victims of dispossession struggling to reconstruct their disrupted livelihoods. The book is compelling in exposing a government oscillating between the extremes — devoid of direction, focus and purpose.
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.