originally published in Le Monde Diplomatique, October 2013 I stood on the side of a street with a new name. Van der Walt has become Lillian Ngoyi; a veldkornet erased for a comrade. Sleek busses drone by. A taxi double-parks without couth. Dark-green shade-cloth ripples up and down in puffs of air over scaffolding twenty stories high. Below, pedestrians politely side-step each other. The Soil’s song Inkomo, clogs the intersection. Winter hurries everyone up just a little bit. Inner city Pretoria has a pleasant human press about it at home time. Office-workers, soldiers and shoppers scurry past fruit and vegetable stalls, past take-aways, weave and dread salons, curtain and linen shops, mini-meds and stores selling ‘fashion’ in the form of Italian shoes or light-wood furniture.