- This text contains the pejorative term “Hottentot” that readers may find offensive. This term is quoted in its original historical context.
On the onoma (authority) of onoma (names): South African toponymic changes, exceptionalism and the fallacy of the colonial-indigenous binary
I cannot die in the place I was born. This is not a Heraclitean statement, but rather a Hanekomian one. After all, it was after the renaming of my place of birth in 2021 that Derek Hanekom tweeted: “We don’t need a Port Elizabeth or East London in South Africa.” Around the same time, I applied to study at the University of Oxford for the first time – the place where I am currently pursuing my doctorate. If South Africa does not need a Port Elizabeth, I suppose it also does not need a Port Elizabethan. The reignited name change debate of the past couple of weeks has also reignited this sense of cynicism in me – here, where I write and think on and with South Africa from afar.
Two recent contributions to this debate in particular, published here on LitNet, call out to me to respond. Both deal with questions of history and identity, rather than economics or politics – to the extent that either of these two domains can be decoupled from the first two. In many ways, history and identity are always at the heart of discussions of name changes. It cannot be otherwise. However, the fact that identity is foundational does not mean it should be determinative. And in what follows, I probe the epistemic assumptions implicit, and in some ways explicit, in the two contributions. The one assumption relates to South African exceptionalism, and the other to the colonial-indigenous binary.
First, Sihle Khumalo (2026) suggests that the name “South Africa” is empty and devoid of meaning, due to its supposedly referencing only a “geographical location”. This points to a lack of awareness of toponymy in general. While he references a number of countries which have had name changes – such as Namibia, which was previously known as South West Africa, and Burkina Faso, which was once called the Republic of Upper Volta – he does not mention those countries whose names reflect a different history. Australia, for example, is derived from Terra Australis Incognita (Empty Southern Land), and as such the name means “Southern”. But Australia is, one could argue, a former colonial outpost like South Africa. So, let’s turn towards one of our erstwhile colonisers – the Dutch, whose country is named The Netherlands. It reflects the country’s relation to neighbouring regions, as having large areas that are under sea level. Although its name is not directional, it still references geography. But the most interesting example is the Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste. Not only is Leste Portuguese for “east” – which is why it is also popularly known in English as East-Timor – but Timor is itself derived from timur, meaning “east” in Malay. The Republic of Timor-Leste is twice named after its geographical location: East-East. The suggestion that South Africa is somehow unique or exceptional relative to its name being a “geographical location” – and which consequently demands an equally exceptional form of action – is unfounded.
Second, Mphuthumi Ntabeni’s (2026) reading of place names through the binary of colonialism versus indigeneity obfuscates much more than it reveals. It implicitly assumes that identity remains fixed over time, with no meaningful change taking place relative to it. But more insidiously, his reading presupposes that names reflect a history of conquest, with conquest itself being a binary phenomenon. There is one group of people (the indigenous) who have been subjected to violent invasion by another (the colonisers) – and, selah, place names reflect this. If we look closely at one of these “new” names, the fallacy of this reasoning becomes apparent.
When I first read the name “Xamdeboo”, which has replaced “Aberdeen”, I thought it strange that the South African Geographical Names Council would have approved it. According to the Council’s handbook, “(n)ames that have already been approved for other places in South Africa” and “(n)ames of which the spelling or pronunciation is so close to that of an existing name that confusion might result” should be avoided. “Xamdeboo” is extremely close to “Camdeboo”, which is, of course, a common name for the kontrei (region) generally and forms part of the name of a national park that surrounds Robert Sobukwe Town (Graaff-Reinet) specifically. Further, the name Camdeboo National Park is itself a post-apartheid change from the earlier “Karoo National Park”. But let’s not get bogged down in the details and what it might reflect of the Council’s inner workings. Governmental departments and agencies follow their own rhyme and reason – if any at all.
I’m more interested in the messiness of history and intergroup contact that this name reflects. The earliest written definition known to me can be found in John Barrow’s An account of travels into the interior of southern Africa:
Two farm-houses only were passed on the first day’s journey, which was in the division called Camdeboo, a Hottentot word, signifying green elevations, applying to the projecting buttresses which support the Snowy mountains, and which are mostly covered with verdure. (Barrow 1801:115; emphasis in the original)
Barrow was writing in a time before the standardisation of click consonants in Roman script. When writing in or on Khoesan languages, we now use the International Phonetic Alphabet’s consonants, including “|”, “||” and “!”. By contrast, we use “c”, “x” and “q” when writing in or on Nguni languages. This means that the pronunciation of Camdeboo is difficult to ascertain from Barrow’s writing alone. His “c” cannot readily be interpreted as the dental click consonant – as we might today if we were to assume it to be written in standard Xhosa, for example. Luckily, we have other, more linguistically sensitive sources we can compare with Barrow’s writing.
In !ora (also known as Kora or Koranna, among other names), a moribund Khoe language which was once spoken across South Africa, but particularly along the coast and in the arid interior, the word for “green” is !kam. This has a cognate in other Khoe languages, including Khoekhoegowab, where the word is !am. Considering that !ora is most probably the Khoe language which Barrow was referring to when he wrote about Camdeboo, we can assume that “!kam” would have been the accurate pronunciation of the first syllable in the name. This also resonates with the Xhosa name “Qamdobowa”. The “q” is the same click as “!”.
But what about what appears to be the second morpheme: deboo? Here, it becomes much more interesting. If we are to follow Barrow’s definition – which has been proven to be at least half correct if we consider the accuracy of cam meaning “green” – then deboo would translate as “elevations”. There is, however, no !ora word known to me that even remotely sounds like deboo with this meaning. In Menán du Plessis’s (2018) magisterial study of !ora, the words ǃurib and !ares are given as equivalents for “hill”. This is the closest we appear to get, and it does not give us any insight. However, in Peter Raper’s (2020) equally important study of the Old Cape Khoe dialectal language, he identifies a word from a different family, namely |xam: dhabu, which could be pronounced as “deboo”, and which means “covering”. This relates to Barrow’s depiction of the Camdeboo mountains as being “covered in verdure”, ie, they are green-covered. “Camdeboo” can therefore be described as a compound name comprising !ora and |xam morphemes: !kam + dhabu.
This is notable not because it goes against the seemingly simplistic notion that “Camdeboo” is purely a Khoe word, but rather that the !oranna and the |xam were not historically on good terms. In the Bleek and Lloyd archive, which is primarily a collection of folklore, personal testimonies and social history on and from the |xam, the !oranna are frequently referenced, but not in a flattering way. In one of these references, |hanǂkass’o relayed what he had heard from his mother, |xabbi-an:
When |kannan went to seek food, she was digging there. She espied people, a commando.
She returned home. She came to tell people.
She exclaimed, “People are standing upon the vlei! You must make ready so that we can escape.”
A man said, “The children of ostriches are always eating on Kuammata’s vlei.”
|kannan exclaimed, “They are real people! You must make ready so that we can escape.”
The man contradicted |kannan. He said that |kannan was speaking falsely, “It is the children of ostriches that are always eating on Kuammata’s vlei.”
…
And the sun set, while |kannan was pleading there, telling the people that they should allow them to go. … The people said she was deceiving them. … They slept, while the Korannas attacked them. The Korannas shot them, shot the people; ran in among the people, so that they could shoot them.
…
The old man who had contradicted |kannan exclaimed, “I ought to have agreed with |kannan; for |kannan spoke truly.”
…
She ran away, ran fleetly away. The Korannas could not overtake her. She ran, ran, ran, ran. They could not catch her; she was not a little fleet.
…
All the people were slaughtered, slaughtered behind her, those people whom she vainly advised, they were those who were slaughtered. The Korannas killed them, while |kannan was the one who lived, alone lived. (|hanǂkass’o 2000:121-2)
In a previous piece where I engage with this narrative, I note the following:
I will not claim this to be history. Whether this text exhibits more of a moralistic slant by warning against the hubris of those unwilling to listen and learn and is pure fiction, or is a factual account of an attack on a |xam band cannot be gleaned from the archive. Despite this, the signification of the !ora as a potential danger to the |xam cannot be missed. We do know from the historical record that violent and destructive conflicts between the |xam and !ora did occur, often to the detriment of the |xam. (Staphorst 2021:73)
When I hear the word “Camdeboo”, I hear the hyphen in !kam-dhabu. And when I hear the hyphen, I hear |kannan running away, running fleetly away. And when I hear |kannan running away, I see the Camdeboo vlakte as |kowa-dhabu. In |xam, |kowa can mean red; it can mean shot; it can mean thirsty. As Breyten Breytenbach (1976:67) wrote: “die land vra water en hy kry bloed” (this land asking for water is given blood) (1994:98). At least, that is partly what I hear and see.
“Xamdeboo” appears to be a form of linguistic violence by twisting the name “Camdeboo” even further from its prior pronunciation – not at all dissimilar to the concern about the relationship between “Nahoon” and “Nxarhuni” that Ntabeni raises. But to regard the name change as a simplistic and pure act of restitution in the face of European colonisation makes me see red; it makes me thirst. We don’t know what violence, what conquest, what inter-“indigenous” strife lies behind the compound name !kam-dhabu. To assume it speaks of a glorious past and the reclamation of an “indigenous identity” is not only unfounded, but offensively naïve.
This is the truth of all names. Because to name is to claim. To name is to conquer. To name is to colonise.
Bibliography
|hanǂkass’o. 2000. The escape of |kannan from the Koranna commando. In JD Lewis-Williams (ed), Stories that float from afar: Ancestral folklore of the San of southern Africa. Cape Town: David Philip, pp 121-2.
Barrow, J. 1801. An account of travels into the interior of southern Africa. London: T Cadell Jr and W Davies.
Breytenbach, B. 1980. A season in paradise. New York: Harvest.
Du Plessis, M. 2018. Kora: A lost Khoisan language of the early Cape and the Gariep. Pretoria: Unisa Press.
Khumalo, S. 2026. Name changes – the “circus” is back in town. LitNet, 13 February. https://www.litnet.co.za/name-changes-the-circus-is-back-in-town/
Lasarus, BB (Breytenbach, B). 1976. ’n Seisoen in die paradys. Johannesburg: Perskor.
Ntabeni, M. 2026. Reclaiming indigenous identity in the Eastern Cape. LitNet, 12 February. https://www.litnet.co.za/reclaiming-indigenous-identity-in-the-eastern-cape/
Raper, PE. 2020. Voices past and present: A comparison of old Cape dialectal, bushman and Khoikhoi words. Bloemfontein: SunBonani Scholar.
Staphorst, L. 2021. |hu|huŋaŋ |ne e: ǂkakǝn au hi |enni |emm (Europeans are those who talk with the tip of their tongue): Colonialesque knowledge, attuned thinking and the bloody body of scholarship known as bushman studies. Southern African Humanities 34 59-82.