By Dianne Tipping-Woods

It presides over Pretoria with glowering permanence. For many visitors to the city, it is one of the first major landmarks they will see. This is because a) it’s huge and set upon a hill above the city and b) it’s a mandatory stop on all the major tours. Judging by the comments in the guestbook, many people take it as just that – groups from the Netherlands, France, Japan, Scandanavia and the US all comment about the spectacular architecture, the magnificent friezes, and the pride with which this monument is obviously maintained. It is worth a visit, even although on a recent trip there, I wasn’t sure what I would find…
 
At the gate of the nature reserve that is home to the Voortrekker  Monument, I jokingly ask the cashier what the (nominal) entrance fee is for. “It’s to maintain our rich cultural heritage,” she said, apparently unaware of the irony of a young black lady saying this when prior to 1994, it’s doubtful she would have been allowed, or wanted to, visit the monument at all. Isn’t it wonderful that today she can say this? The part I question is whether she can really mean it - or perhaps what she means. Has the meaning of the monument has changed since 1994? Perhaps like all symbols, what it signifies shifts, depending on your perspective…
 
Let me take a few steps back. The monument honours the Voortrekkers who left the Cape between 1835 and 1854 in search of a land where they could be autonomous and live freely according to their ideals. The merits of their ideals aside, the Voortrekkers, among whom I can number many of my ancestors, certainly undertook an incredible adventure. They were determined and courageous in the face of many hardships that it’s hard for any South African to fully appreciate today. The Great Trek is integral to how many South Africans understand themselves and is hugely important in this country’s history. This journey is undeniably part of the rich heritage of our country.
 
It’s the monument to the trek more than the trek itself that makes me question the cashier’s comments for a moment. Let me explain. Designed by Gerard Moerdijk, the monument was intended to “stand for a thousand years to describe the history and the meaning of the Great Trek to its descendants.” Considering that building on the monument began in 1937, more than a hundred years after the first Ox Wagons set off on their journey, I can’t help but feel that even more than funding a building, those responsible for the monument were constructing a symbol of Afrikaner Nationalist ambition.
 
The monument says more about South Africa in the 1930’s perhaps than in the 1830’s. At this time in South Africa, Malan, who officially opened the monument, built his political appeal by stressing the particular sufferings of the Afrikaner people. Their economic problems had become especially evident during the depression.  To deal with this, the Volkskas (People’s Bank) was founded in 1934; and exclusively Afrikaner trade unions, which espoused a Christian-National ethic, were established at the same time. Malan and his allies also drew attention to the past sufferings of the Afrikaner people by organising a commemorative reenactment in1938 of the Great Trek, culminating in a festival held in Pretoria on December 16, the exact day on which, 100 years earlier, the Zulu had been defeated at the Battle of Blood River. In the mid-1930s, the United Party government introduced legislation to remove Africans from the common voters’ roll in the Cape, to limit them to electing white representatives to Parliament, and to create a Natives Representative Council that had advisory powers only (Representation of Natives Act [No. 12] of 1936). In some ways, this, and the apartheid regime that followed, is also what the monument commemorates, perhaps more than the Great Trek itself.
 
Exploring the monument, I admire the skill with which is it crafted even as I question the spirit in which it was built. The ambivalence is strangely at odds with the monument’s sturdy and imposing form. The symbolic ‘wagon laager’ around the base of the monument seems decorative more than protectionist now. There are children playing in the beautiful gardens and a smattering of tourists. A Japanese tour group is posing for pictures. Inside, the high domed hall of the monument is bathed in golden light from yellow Belgium glass in the windows. The light gives the marble friezes (92 metres long and 2.3 metres high), a buttery softness. The Cenotaph is the central focus of the monument. The empty tomb is the symbolic resting place of all those who died in the Great Trek. The architecture and cool silence is unsettling, but the view from the top of the monument is inspiring.
 
This view contextualises the monument in a different way. It is woven into the contemporary landscape. While the legacy of the 1830’s and the 1930’s lingers, future visitors to the monument may discuss the legacy’s of the 2030’s. A whole new era. A whole new history. A whole new perspective.  For the monument to remain it’s inevitable that its meaning must change. And we change this meaning - a fact that I’m reminded of as, on the way out, I wave to the proud cashier – and unperturbed by the past, she waves back. We’re still trekking-and we don’t even need to leave the city.
 
What to do at the Voortrekker Monument
 
On your visit you can arrange a guided tour of the monument, take a horse ride, explore the nature reserve on foot or on a bike, enjoy the restaurant fare, sneak in some birding, visit the museum and new heritage centre  on the site, visit Fort Schanskop…The monument has a comprehensive website where you can read about all this and more.

Take a long some critical perspective and an open mind. And if you’re interested in South Africa history, be sure to visit the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg and Robben Island in the Western Cape.