ORANIA — Hundreds of white South Africans sit beneath a large tent and make clear where they see their future. Not in the United States, despite President Donald Trump’s offer of asylum. But right here, in their town of Orania, in the heartland of central South Africa.
At the foot of a hill, residents gather to celebrate an old Boer victory over the British in the Boer Wars. They sing a hymn. “God calls us together in honor of his great name,” they proclaim. “A free people has risen on the road to Orania.”
For the latest news & views from every corner of the world, Worldcrunch Today is the only truly international newsletter. Sign up here.
At first glance, it looks like any other rural farming town. Three thousand residents, a single main street, quiet shops. But Orania has been a political flashpoint since it was founded in 1991. Only “Boers” are allowed to live here: descendants of white settlers from the Netherlands, France, and Germany who once colonized South Africa.
This makes them an ideal target for Trump’s narrative of white people being oppressed by modern liberalism and anti-discrimination laws. U.S. officials said last month they’re developing a plan to resettle disadvantaged white minorities in South Africa who face “unjust racial discrimination.”
Trump’s offer has been a hot topic here ever since. Especially for Joost Strydom, 32, the town’s go-to PR man. His phone rings far more than usual these days. “We’re grateful to Trump for mentioning us as a people and giving us some recognition,” Strydom says.
Strydom says there are currently 142 race-based laws in place, and whites face “systematic” disadvantages in job hiring. The number of schools teaching in the Afrikaans language is shrinking. A regulation that came into effect in January has made it easier for the government to expropriate land from white farmers.
I belong in Orania
It is unclear how many white South Africans actually feel disadvantaged. In the last survey of its kind, conducted in 2019, only 12% of the five million white South Africans said they felt discriminated against. On average, they earn several times more than black citizens and are less likely to be unemployed. However, it’s possible that public opinion has shifted since the government passed a series of controversial laws.
If their children move to the U.S., they’ll lose touch with Boer culture
In Orania, skepticism runs higher. But Strydom does not know anyone who plans to move to the U.S. “My ancestors were in South Africa a hundred years before the United States even gained independence,” he says. “I belong here in Orania. I don’t want to be a refugee.”
Older residents especially worry that if their children move to the U.S., they’ll lose touch with Boer culture. One local says that young white South Africans have been going to the U.S. for years as seasonal workers. “It’ll be easier for them now.”
“No comment”
The U.S. Embassy in Pretoria had “no comment” on the number of applicants. As for resettlement plans, “implementation details” are still being worked out. For now, that’s not something people can base any serious life decisions on.
In Orania, they prefer to do things their own way. During apartheid, the town’s founders bought the abandoned settlement from the state. In the early years, even other Boers ridiculed those who moved there. A newspaper cartoon from the time mocked Orania as a desert wasteland, with the first settlers depicted as lost souls.
But the town has been growing by 10% a year. As outdated as some of the views may be, the residents are forward-thinking on other fronts. They won a court battle to be officially recognized as a municipality and now collect their own local taxes.
Even Julius Malema, who sings “Kill the Boer” at rallies, was greeted with smiles.
They are investing in solar panels and aiming to free themselves from the crumbling national power company, Eskom. They’ve even launched their own currency, the “Ora,” to promote local commerce.
Recently, delegations of black leaders from the Eastern Cape have come seeking advice on land reform. In their region, profitable land belongs to the state. The local chiefs are allowed to manage it, but cannot develop it. Even the country’s most notorious left-wing firebrand was surprised when he came to visit. Julius Malema, who sings “Kill the Boer” at rallies, expected to be stopped at gunpoint. Instead, he was greeted with smiles.
Nothing to do with racism?
Strydom says people like Malema are often disarmed by simple facts. “In Orania, not a single toilet is cleaned by black workers,” he says. The town sees the exploitation of black labor as one of apartheid’s gravest sins. Orania may be the only place in South Africa where white residents pump gas and bag groceries.
But anyone wanting to stay more than four weeks has to apply for the “right to be a resident” and appear before a citizens’ committee. Applicants are asked about their Afrikaans language skills, religious beliefs, and their views on traditional family roles. Strydom insists it has nothing to do with racism.
“We don’t do DNA tests here,” he says. Orania, he explains, is about shared heritage. Which, by definition, means descendants of the white settlers.
You could spend a while on Orania’s main street without seeing anyone with dark skin. After an hour, a delivery driver pulls up. “Everything’s fine,” he says. “People are friendly to me.” A farmworker who drives in to do some shopping says the same. Still, they are not welcome as neighbors.
No Mandela photos
So Orania remains a symbol of the country’s painful past. Just ask the black gas station attendant in the nearby town. “We have white people living among us and we welcome them,” he says angrily. “But do you think I would be welcome in Orania? Of course not.”
“To many, he is still a hero”
One reason for his resentment is the corner house on a nearby street. It once belonged to the widow of Prime Minister Hendrik Verwoerd. Today, it houses a museum dedicated to Verwoerd, the man who ruthlessly enforced racial segregation laws in the 1950s and 1960s and is widely seen as the “architect of apartheid.” A museum guide unlocks the door.
Yes, he admits, Verwoerd was a divisive figure. “But to many, he is still a hero.” The guide then starts spinning a version of history that blames the British for institutionalized racism.
Nelson Mandela once sat in that very living room. In 1995, he visited Verwoerd’s widow. They drank tea and ate traditional Boer pastries called Koeksisters. It was one of Mandela’s gestures of reconciliation with the former oppressors. But you’ll find no photos of that meeting in the museum.
