Shoulder to shoulder, the Afrikaner teenagers sing as one. Tears well up in their eyes as their right hands clutch their chests. “On a mountain in the night we lie in the darkness and wait,” they boom. “In the mud and blood I lie cold, grain bag and rain cling to me. And my house and my farm burned to ashes, so that they could catch us. But those flames and that fire burn now deep, deep within me. De la Rey, De la Rey. Will you come to lead the Boers?”
On the long wooden tables in front of the boys are the remnants of lunch. Bobotie, a local dish of baked mince and egg; fragrant yellow rice; milk tart. The ritual university meal ends with a tolling bell, a short prayer and the scraping of a hundred chairs on parquet floor as the students head to their afternoon classes. More...
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