And then the unforgettable phrase: “You never regarded me, Dawid.” The deepest longing of the Afrikaner— to be regarded, by his community, his country, himself. To regard or disregard, probably the origin of endless destructiveness in South Africa.

“For us Afrikaans was a deed of rescue. You wanted to use it as well as you could to rescue yourself and other Afrikaners from poverty and misery. Teachers saw to it that we mastered scientific and classical Afrikaans. We had to learn Afrikaans poems and Bible verses off by heart, and so pure sentence structure and vocabulary were bedded in us. Anglicisms were like cursing. You delighted in storytellers who could play with language. They were heard again and again and their stories retold so often that the unique expressions were extended to everybody.”

A victim has no stake in a future (as many Afrikaaners feel now), but a proud loser does. He wants to build. He wants to arrange a dispensation for his people. But when Afrikaners identify as victims, they become useless to society.

One morning Breyten spoke to us: “You need nobody’s permission to join the struggle. Guilt feelings and self-flagellation are self-indulgent sentiments, but understanding of responsibilities gets you moving. It is in walking that you learn how to walk. Watch out for the exultation of the camel-hair shirt. Clean out the cellars, watch out for the corruption of suffering, of self-pity. Don’t go and sell yourselves as brave warriors. To be against apartheid is not heroic, it’s normal.”

We are on our way to Kroonstad for Christmas and as always are surprised how far one can see across South African landscapes. How stretched out, how hopelessly beautiful the country is. And the deep power with which the land remains itself against all onslaughts. We drive in shifts, and the nearer we get to the Free State, the lighter we become.