South Africa-based journalist Kate Steinke is a graduate of Stellenbosch University. She comments occasionally on current affairsYou have a good education and a valuable trade. But you live in South Africa, and you are white. As a result, you can’t get a job — and you have no income. Worse, if you’re a farmer in a remote location, you may share the fate of thousands of others: murdered on your land by roving gangs. The risk is constant. And yet, for many, the violence is only one part of a deeper crisis.Their plight is not a secret. When U.S. President Donald Trump met with South African President Cyril Ramaphosa, Trump raised concerns about “white genocide.” Ramaphosa — unsurprisingly — dismissed the claim. But white South Africans who are not victims of violence often face a different kind of struggle: economic despair and social marginalization. In fact more than 400,000 white South Africans now live in what is classified as extreme poverty, surviving on less than R600 — about US$28 — per month. And while that number is staggering, it remains largely ignored by both the South African government, whose race-based policies helped create the situation, and international media. .Many of the poorest now live in one of more than 420 informal settlements, some in makeshift housing on private land. The earliest of these camps emerged in 1996, just two years after the end of apartheid. Most residents prefer to stay quiet, fearing retribution or eviction, which makes reliable information scarce..But one woman has chosen to speak out.Leigh du Preez, a former housewife who herself fell into poverty after her husband was laid off, founded the South African Family Relief Project (SAFRP) in 2017. Operating from a modest two-hectare farm in Gauteng near Pretoria, her initiative provides a measure of safety, shelter and stability for more than two dozen destitute white South Africans.Among the residents are people with solid skills and trades: a teacher, a nurse, a flight engineer, an artisan. Most say they lost employment opportunities to Black South Africans under Broad-Based Black Economic Empowerment (B-BBEE) policies.“They go to interview after interview,” says du Preez. “The employer might not say it’s a BEE position, but it is. There’s just no hope.”.Because white South Africans are not considered “previously disadvantaged,” SAFRP receives no government funding or municipal services. The farm relies on gas and fire for cooking, solar panels for lighting and charging phones, and occasional donations from individuals and local farmers. Residents grow vegetables, bake their own bread, and raise chickens and ducks.New arrivals are given a year to get back on their feet, though exceptions are made for the elderly and those suffering from trauma. Drugs and alcohol are banned to prevent theft or violence. Residents are encouraged to attend counselling, build skills and — as difficult as it is — to seek employment. Some have launched small businesses or found jobs on nearby farms..The program’s success is best seen in the stories of those who’ve rebuilt their lives against the odds.One such case is Martie van Rooyen. Addicted to drugs since the age of 16, Martie found herself living on the street in 2022. Her family intervened, and she volunteered to move onto the SAFRP farm. A year later, she was sober and employed, finding work with a local fencing company. She has also since reconciled with her children, and says that without Leigh and the SAFRP community, she would not have recovered..Another success story is that of Bianca Van Der Walt. In 2021, her husband lost his job, and her first child died to medical malpractice. After enduring severe financial hardship, Bianca and her husband were advised to approach Du Preez, who helped the couple through therapy and with job searching. With assistance, Bianca’s husband found work and they now live in the Free State, with two children..Not all challenges are personal or economic — some are physical. Security is an ongoing concern. Du Preez keeps the camp’s location undisclosed, following arson attempts and threats from nearby black communities. In one incident, a fire set by local township residents nearly destroyed part of the property. In Munsieville, tensions escalated when residents wrongly believed the white squatters had electricity — in fact, they were using car batteries and LED lights.While journalists from France and Mexico have visited, South African media coverage remains scant. Meanwhile, President Ramaphosa has added fuel to the fire with inflammatory remarks, once comparing whites to frogs being slowly boiled — a metaphor some interpret as a threat of gradual elimination. .South Africa president signs land expropriation bill into law.He has also refused to condemn the chant, “Kill the Boer, kill the farmer,” as hate speech — even when challenged by Trump. Though the slogan originated during the anti-apartheid struggle more than 30 years ago, its use today by the Economic Freedom Fighters Party is widely regarded as incitement to violence.This is not the “Rainbow Nation” envisioned by Nelson Mandela..Du Preez sees a cautionary tale in neighbouring Zimbabwe (formerly Rhodesia,) where the expulsion of white farmers led to agricultural collapse and widespread hunger.“We’re really, really in trouble,” she says. “We’re sitting ducks. Either you flee with what you have, or you stay — knowing your day is gonna come.”Despite the risks, du Preez is determined to keep going. Her most urgent needs include a new fence — the existing one has been repeatedly cut and patched — as well as a generator and steady food donations.At first glance, the plight of white squatters in South Africa may seem far removed from life in Canada. Yet some observers draw parallels with indigenous reserves: both are communities shaped by race-based policy, burdened by poverty, poor infrastructure and exclusion from opportunity..MORGAN: The Indian reserve system must be phased out.Marginalized for different reasons, they share bleak outcomes — and the silence of governments that should protect them. South Africa-based journalist Kate Steinke is a graduate of Stellenbosch University. She comments occasionally on current affairs.
