Knoflokskraal is a small farming community in South Africa’s Elgin Valley where mostly Khoisan people have settled to reclaim their ancestral land. Since 2020, they’ve turned wild bushland into fields of crops and homes, striving to live independently despite facing tough challenges like water shortages and government restrictions. The settlers work hard to build a future rooted in their history and culture, showing strong hope and resilience even when the odds are against them. Their story is about more than just land—it’s about identity, survival, and the dream of belonging.
Knoflokskraal is a settlement in South Africa’s Elgin Valley, founded in 2020 by mostly Khoisan settlers aiming to reclaim ancestral land through farming. It symbolizes struggles over land rights, self-sufficiency, and indigenous identity amid government containment and resource challenges.
Beneath the looming presence of the Hottentots Holland Mountains, Knoflokskraal stretches across 1,800 hectares, weaving together landscapes and aspirations. The settlement’s sprawling fields and makeshift homes represent much more than just a place to live—they channel generations of hope and hard-fought identity. The story unfolding here is not just about a piece of land, but about the continuous struggle to belong, to reclaim, and to thrive in the face of adversity in South Africa.
The community of Knoflokskraal took shape in 2020, a year that sent shockwaves across the world and quietly transformed local realities. Against the backdrop of global crisis, a group—many of them Khoisan—set out to anchor themselves on land that resonated with ancestral significance. Their journey was intentional and measured, born from both the ache of historical loss and the urgent demands of modern survival. As small farmer Benjamin September recalls, Knoflokskraal was once simply wild bushland. Yet, he and others glimpsed fertile ground for renewal and staked their future on transforming a barren landscape.
For September and fellow settlers, the move from nearby Grabouw into Knoflokskraal represented a leap toward self-reliance through agriculture. Over time, their aspirations manifested in orderly rows of crops, the sounds of livestock, and the rhythms of daily rural life. Julius Maree, who leads the Knoflokskraal Emerging Farmers, emphasizes that farming—not merely housing—was their guiding purpose. “We came to farm… Our main goal is to be self-sustaining,” he insists. Their efforts recall global back-to-the-land movements, but here, the settlers draw especially from indigenous traditions, seeking not escapism but restoration and dignity.
The Knoflokskraal experiment quickly collided with the complexities of land ownership and government authority. The Department of Public Works and Infrastructure (DPWI) legally controls the area, and labeled the settlers as illegal occupants. Early on, the authorities issued a containment order, designed to freeze the community’s growth by prohibiting new arrivals, new building, and further expansion. Yet the reality on the ground told a different story. New families continued to arrive, and new structures—ranging from sturdy brick to patched-together wood and metal—began to dot the landscape. The government’s limited capacity to enforce its decrees highlighted the familiar disconnect between official policy and lived experience, a tension that has long defined South Africa’s land debates.
Initially, plans for the area envisioned a future under the Department of Forestry, Fisheries and the Environment (DFFE), with forest development on the horizon. The prospect of eviction loomed large. However, in 2022, then-Minister Barbara Creecy shifted management back to Public Works, muddying the waters rather than clarifying them. The bureaucratic reshuffle failed to resolve the uncertainties that governed daily life for Knoflokskraal’s residents. Instead, it reflected the shifting priorities of the state and reinforced the community’s sense of marginalization.
Basic resources—especially water and sanitation—remain in critically short supply. In May 2023, frustration spilled onto the N2 highway, where residents demanded not just the lifting of the containment order, but also reliable infrastructure. The challenge of daily survival intensified as drought set in and unpaid municipal bills cut off water pumps, leaving vegetable gardens to wither. While Theewaterskloof municipality delivers water to two communal 5,000-litre tanks each day, it does so as an act of compassion, not duty. Officials argue that their strained budgets simply cannot extend to cover an ever-expanding, unofficial settlement. The daily sight of residents queuing for water or carrying it from the river is a stark reminder of both their resilience and the precariousness of life in Knoflokskraal.
Yet in spite of these hardships, the community has cultivated a spirit of ingenuity and endurance. Some households have installed solar panels and inverters, while others rely on septic tanks to manage waste. Informal businesses—ranging from a restaurant and a plant nursery to a woodworking shop and a small gas refill station—have sprung up and become essential to daily life. On weekends, a market springs to life, humming with trade and laughter, as neighbors gather to share goods and stories.
For many, Knoflokskraal offers not just subsistence, but also sanctuary. Some settlers have retired here, drawn by the promise of a quieter life and a deeper connection to the land. Others divide their time between Knoflokskraal and the outside world, leaving their homes shuttered in their absence. The once-untamed bush has evolved into a patchwork of cultivated plots and thriving micro-enterprises, each one a testament to human determination.
Farming remains at the heart of the settlement’s vision, though it presents formidable hurdles. Julius Maree speaks candidly about the need for sheer willpower: “It’s endurance. Some have given up. You must have the willpower.” Maree’s own journey from the overcrowded and unsafe environment of Grabouw to Knoflokskraal was both a personal gamble and a statement of faith. Like many others, he dreams of retiring on this land, yet the lack of a regular water supply threatens to derail hopes for genuine self-sufficiency. Without water, even the most carefully tended crops and ambitious plans struggle to survive.
Knoflokskraal also stands out for its approach to security and social cohesion. Unlike many informal settlements that wrestle with high crime rates, residents here report relatively little criminal activity. Dawid de Wee, president of the Khoi Aboriginal Party, takes pride in this achievement, and plans are underway to establish a neighborhood watch in partnership with the Grabouw Community Police Forum. This shared sense of purpose, rooted in land reclamation and collective ambition, strengthens bonds among neighbors and sets Knoflokskraal apart from more troubled communities.
The debate over the settlement’s legitimacy remains unresolved. Some outsiders label residents as “land invaders,” but many, like Mortimer Beckett, reject this descriptor. For Beckett, the claim to Knoflokskraal rests on deep historical ties—“This is our land. History says so.” His outlook resonates with the broader South African pursuit of restitution and recognition. However, Beckett remains clear-eyed about the community’s vulnerabilities: the absence of waste removal and sewage could quickly turn health concerns into crises. He notes that the land could become “paradise,” but for now, “it’s a desert.” This ongoing tension between promise and deprivation pervades daily existence in the settlement.
Official responses remain uncertain. Public Works spokesperson Lennox Mabaso notes that the department continues to “look at all of its options,” while security patrols persist but fall short of containing the settlement’s growth. The containment order remains in place, a bureaucratic tool that seeks to freeze progress, even as pressing needs propel the community forward.
Knoflokskraal occupies a unique and unsettled place in the South African imagination. It echoes the spirit of past land occupations that defined social movements of the 1970s and 1980s—those driven by dispossession, necessity, and the search for belonging. Unlike earlier movements focused solely on shelter, however, Knoflokskraal centers on farming, the renewal of indigenous identity, and the pursuit of a viable future on reclaimed soil.
Walking the fields of Knoflokskraal at dawn, one encounters the mingled scents of wood smoke and earth, the steady hum of neighbors at work, and the persistent hope etched into every row of crops. The path ahead brims with uncertainty, shaped by the dreams and determination of its people, the indifference of bureaucracy, and the unpredictability of nature. Yet, each day brings new efforts, weaving another chapter into South Africa’s ongoing search for justice, belonging, and the meaning of home.
Knoflokskraal is a small farming settlement in South Africa’s Elgin Valley, founded in 2020 primarily by Khoisan people aiming to reclaim their ancestral land. Unlike many informal settlements focused on shelter alone, Knoflokskraal’s purpose is rooted in farming and self-sufficiency. The community strives to restore indigenous identity, cultivate the land, and build a future connected to their history and culture.
The settlers confront numerous difficulties including legal disputes over land ownership, a containment order by the Department of Public Works and Infrastructure (DPWI) that restricts growth, critical shortages of water and sanitation, and limited government support. Drought conditions and unpaid municipal bills have further exacerbated water scarcity. Despite these hardships, the community demonstrates resilience and ingenuity to survive and grow.
Farming is at the heart of Knoflokskraal’s economy, with settlers cultivating crops and raising livestock on the once wild bushland. Beyond agriculture, small informal businesses such as a restaurant, plant nursery, woodworking shop, and gas refill station have emerged, providing livelihoods and fostering social interaction. Weekly markets serve as communal spaces for trade and connection, strengthening social cohesion.
The land is legally controlled by the DPWI, which labels the settlers as illegal occupants and has issued containment orders forbidding expansion and new construction. Management of the area has shifted between government departments, creating uncertainty. Although security patrols and containment measures are in place, enforcement is limited. The government has not provided formal infrastructure services, treating water deliveries as acts of compassion rather than obligation.
Unlike many informal settlements with high crime rates, Knoflokskraal reports relatively low criminal activity. Plans to establish a neighborhood watch in collaboration with the Grabouw Community Police Forum aim to further enhance safety and solidarity. The shared purpose of land reclamation and cultural restoration fosters strong social bonds, helping to maintain order and collective resilience.
Knoflokskraal symbolizes the ongoing struggle for land restitution, indigenous recognition, and self-determination in South Africa. It recalls earlier land occupations but distinguishes itself by focusing on farming and cultural revival rather than mere shelter. The settlement embodies deep historical claims of the Khoisan people and reflects the complex tensions between marginalized communities and state bureaucracy—offering a living example of hope, endurance, and the quest for belonging in post-apartheid South Africa.
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