A land dispute with its roots in the days of King Cetshwayo is before the high court in KwaZulu-Natal
Niki Moore
‘I don’t like being called coloured,” says Pat Dunn emphatically. “I am a human being first and a South African second.”
Dunn is embroiled in a land claim dispute that takes up every waking minute of her day and every ounce of her energy.
Her great-grandfather was John Dunn, a trader who obtained the rare honour of being made a chief by Zulu King Cetshwayo. Because of his services to the king before the battle of Isandlwana, he was given a chieftainship over a huge chunk of Zululand. He returned the compliment by taking 48 Zulu wives and established his homestead at Mangete.
With Dunn’s lineage, a personality best described as “diminutive Patricia de Lille” and a burning ambition to see justice prevail, the area around Mangete is hot indeed.
The Mangete land claim started off fairly simply. In 1996 the Macambini community, led by chief Inkosi Khayelihle Mathaba, wanted land restored which they claim had been forcefully taken away from them in 1976.
But the land had already been restored, to its “rightful owners” the descendants of the Dunn family, who had fought an 83-year battle with the government to get the title deeds to the land that was theirs by right of inheritance.
Mathaba’s great-grandfather was Lokothwayo Ga-Macimbi, a Tsonga traveller who met John Dunn while hunting and became his cook. History has been kind to Mathaba, who is now the chief of the Macambini area and is claiming all of it as land for his people.
It’s not only from the Dunns that Mathaba wants land. In 1992 the N2 highway was built through his tribal lands. Despite the fact that he had 30?000ha of land, he told the roads department that he had nowhere to settle the families who had lost their land to the road. The department bought four farms from the Dunns to resettle those displaced by the road. Instead, Mathaba settled his family on the farms and now claims that he personally paid for them.
The approximately 40 people who were removed to make way for the road have disappeared. “We believe some of those people were told to squat on Dunn land,” says Pat Dunn.
Since 1995, when squatters first moved on to the Dunn properties, the issue has become so muddied with personalities and agendas that it is almost impossible to get to the crux of the dispute. Approximately 1 000 squatters have now built houses among the sugar cane.
The Dunns are powerless to do anything, as they say they have been told by the government that removing squatters is a legal process and the landowner’s responsibility. The case got as far as the high court, where Mathaba changed his defence to a land claim and invoked the moratorium on forced removals. Other attempts to remove the squatters have resulted in retaliation: cane has been burnt, householders attacked and homes burgled.
“And these people are not even the claimants!” says an indignant Dunn. “These are opportunists. They are being led by one Lesley Sibiya, who is a professional squatter. He has several wives and several homes and claims to be from several areas. One is Darnell, where he claims to have ancestors’ graves, and one is in Mangete.”
Last week, an angry crowd blockaded the N2 outside Mangete. The reason for their disgruntlement is confused: according to police representative Bala Naidoo, they were a group of land claimants who were angry with the lack of progress and communication and were demanding an audience with the land claims commissioner.
Dunn disputes this: “There was not one claimant among them. They were opportunists who are squatting.” It later emerged these were indeed squatters who had heard a rumour that they were about to be removed.
Both the squatters and the Dunns have been talking about “Zimbabwe-style” land invasions incendiary talk that is far from the truth, but has served to heighten tension to combustion point. Mathaba has removed himself from the violence and threats of invasion. “I have distanced myself from these people. I cannot allow any people to make threats.”
Darkening the glass even more is the opinion of the regional land claims commissioner, Thabi Shange. “I would like to resolve this matter out of court,” she declares. “Perhaps we can reach some sort of compromise and the people can share.”
This view leaves Dunn apoplectic. “What does she mean, we can share? We are already involved in enforced sharing these people have invaded our land, burnt our cane and taken over our fields. It doesn’t work. We fought long and hard to get ownership of our property. This matter is in court and that’s where we want to keep it, so that it can be resolved for once and for all.”
Dunn is not a “privileged white” and this is not a conflict between the previously oppressed and their oppressors. Both of these communities suffered oppression under the previous government. Disenfranchised and classified as coloured, the Dunns fought for 83 years to claim land given to their ancestors.
According to Dunn, justice was done when the land was given back to John Dunn’s descendants. She is afraid that under the new, democratic government, this justice will be undone.
“I am a mother of three children and five grandchildren. We want a peaceful solution so that people can get on with their lives. And that is all the people.”