By Gillian Schutte
On August 17, 2024, a horrific incident at the Onvervaght farm in Limpopo, South Africa, laid bare the enduring devaluation of Black lives, particularly those of Black women. Mariah Makgato, a mother of four, and Lucia Ndlovu, a Zimbabwean national, accompanied by a male companion, entered the farm to collect soon-to-expire goods that had been dumped on the farm to be consumed by pigs. What transpired next was a brutal metaphor for the expendability of Black lives in a society still grappling with its violent past and an unfulfilled promise of equality.
The two women were shot by the farmer, Zachariah Johannes Olivier, and his supervisor, Adriaan Rudolph De Wet, while scavenging for food meant for animals. The surviving male companion managed to crawl to the road for help, but Mariah and Lucia did not survive. Their bodies were then thrown into a pigsty, where they were partially consumed by the very pigs they had sought sustenance alongside. The grotesque irony of this act—the transformation of human bodies into food for pigs—underscores the harsh reality that in a society marked by racial and gender hierarchies, the lives of poor Black people, particularly women, are rendered disposable both in life and in death.
Within the framework of Critical Race Theory (CRT), which argues that racism is not aberrational but deeply entrenched in the social, economic, and political fabric of society, this incident is deeply symbolic of the ongoing marginalisation of Black women. CRT posits that systemic racism is not merely a collection of individual prejudices but a pervasive structure shaping all aspects of society. The fate of these women, reduced to objects of violence and then discarded as waste, reveals how deeply these intersecting oppressions—race, gender, and class—are meshed into the fabric of South African life.
In "Ain’t I a Woman?", Sojourner Truth, former slave and advocate for abolition, civil and women's rights in the nineteenth century, questioned the inherent dehumanisation and disregard for Black women’s lives in America. This gruesome event mirrors that question in contemporary South Africa, where the devaluation of Black women persists, largely unchallenged by those in power. The use of pigs in this narrative—both as consumers of discarded food and the bodies of the women—serves as a potent psychoanalytic symbol. The pigs become agents of consumption in a system where Black bodies are seen as resources to be exploited, degraded, or discarded, reinforcing a hierarchy that privileges whiteness and masculinity over Blackness and femininity.
The Hypocrisy of Silence
Another chilling aspect of this South African horror story is the silence from political entities like the Democratic Alliance (DA) and Afriforum, who are often vocal about farm murders when the victims are white. This selective moral outrage aligns with historical racial hierarchies in South Africa and reveals a terrible hypocrisy that extends to women's organisations and Chapter 9 institutions. Their apparent lack of vocal outrage and organised protests to demand justice for the murder of these vulnerable women further entrenches the idea that the lives of poor Black women are less valuable, highlighting a disturbing complicity in maintaining systemic inequality.
This silence is a powerful reminder that advocacy often operates within the bounds of what is politically and financially expedient. The broader focus of society on celebrity culture and superficial discourses—phenomena that garner far more attention than the brutal murder of two Black women—reflects a society increasingly distracted from meaningful engagement with human rights abuses. It is capitalism in its most grotesque form: a spectacle-driven culture that numbs and deflects, allowing structural violence to continue unchallenged.
This further exposes the commodification of women's rights through annual programmes like Women’s Month and 16 days of activism, which, while publicly celebrated through sometimes loud and lavish events, amount to little more than lip service, failing to address the systemic inequalities and violence that continue to marginalise poor Black women. These symbolic gestures create the illusion of progress while leaving the harsh realities of everyday oppression untouched and unchanged.
A Call for Accountability and Justice
The murders of Mariah Makgato and Lucia Ndlovu are more than just isolated incidents; they are a microcosm of a society still deeply divided by race, gender, and class. This tragic event must force a reckoning with the unfinished revolution of the African National Congress (ANC), which has failed to deliver on its promises of equality and justice. It also calls into question the role of NGOs, the media, and the general public—actors who have too often allowed themselves to be silenced by a lack of funding or fear of political reprisal.
Furthermore, with the establishment of a new Government of National Unity, and the placement of racist white men in positions of power, there is every indication that the situation will only deteriorate further. This configuration suggests a future where the structural violence against Black bodies, particularly Black women, could deepen, with inequality being perpetuated rather than dismantled.
To reverse this trend, there is an urgent need for political change—a call to vote for an African party that genuinely values African lives and cherishes its women. Until such a party comes to power, one committed to social justice and the dismantling of entrenched racial hierarchies, Black women will continue to bear the brunt of the violence, their lives deemed less worthy of protection or concern.
The Unfinished Revolution
In this context, "Ain’t I a Woman?" is not just a historical question but a contemporary indictment. Until we confront the intersecting oppressions that diminish Black women's lives, until we challenge a system that values property and privilege over people, we will remain trapped in a cycle of dehumanisation and violence. The horror of this incident demands not just justice for the victims but a profound transformation of our social, political, and economic structures. Only then can South Africa truly answer the call for humanity and equality for all its citizens.
* Gillian Schutte is a film-maker, and a well-known social justice and race-justice activist and public intellectual.
** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.