In the dynamic and complex landscape of SA, where history is both a living entity and a contested terrain, the renaming of geographical features has emerged as a powerful tool for transformation and decolonisation.
While some may see this as a mere exercise in semantics and a superficial change that ignores socioeconomic, systemic and structural imbalances and inequalities, renaming can also be a profound act of reclaiming heritage, identity and narrative.
The concept of naming places and the significance attributed to it is deeply ingrained in human history.
It is intertwined with the very essence of human attachment to specific regions of the earth, dating back to the earliest notions of home and territorial belonging.
Throughout history, communities have invested their collective thoughts, values and emotions into the landscapes they inhabit, creating a sense of belonging and identity.
As Adrian Koopman suggests in his book Zulu Names, the primary purpose of place names, regardless of cultural or linguistic context, is to provide identification and guidance in locating specific areas.
Furthermore, place names play a crucial role in preserving cultural heritage, serving as a link to the traditions and histories of a particular region.
In 1939, SA established the National Names Authority, later known as the National Place Names Committee, to standardise names of cities, towns, and other locales.
However, the scope and membership was limited to whites only.
In 1998, the South African Geographical Names Council (SAGNC) replaced the NPNC, tasked with standardising geographical names and transforming the toponymic landscape.
Through the alteration of names that carry the weight of colonialism and apartheid, South Africans began rewriting their story, one signboard at a time.
To understand the significance of this endeavour, we must first confront the distorted narrative that has long permeated the SA society.
Colonialism and apartheid were not just systems of legislated racism; they were cultural and hegemonic projects aimed at erasing and distorting the history, identity and heritage of black South Africans.
The history taught in schools perpetuated the myth of Africa as a barren land devoid of culture and development before colonisation, and Africans as lesser human beings.
At the same time, Europe and whiteness were portrayed as civilisation, humanity and progress.
For centuries, white South Africans were indoctrinated with a sense of entitlement, viewing themselves as the benefactors of a supposedly savage land in need of civilisation.
During this time, black people were subjugated and dehumanised through Eurocentric lies and epistemic violence.
Spearheaded by the SAGNC, the initiative to rename some of the country’s geographical locations seeks to redress historical injustices by restoring indigenous names and narratives.
Since its establishment in 1998, the SAGNC has overseen the changing of more than 1,500 geographical names, spanning towns, villages, rivers and mountains.
The renaming of places and national monuments is a crucial step towards the decolonisation of SA spaces.
Decolonisation, as Ngugi wa Thiong’o contends, involves shifting away from the dominance of the Western world in Africa’s self-perception and global positioning, aiming to reorient intellectual and cultural focus back to Africa.
Driving through provinces such as the Eastern Cape, one can witness the tangible impact of this decolonial project.
Towns once named after European figures now bear names that reflect their pre-colonial heritage.
Kwa Maqoma, Gqeberha, Makhanda, Qonce — these names resonate with history, invoking curiosity and pride in the minds of the majority of South Africans.
These are not merely symbolic gestures but tangible reclamations of space and memory.
Central to this process is the recognition of language as a site of resistance.
Indigenous knowledge systems, embedded within languages and cultural traditions, serve as counter-hegemonic tools against colonial erasure.
Renowned scholar Tat’ uPitika Ntuli emphasises the importance of language in shaping world views and identities.
The adoption of the coloniser’s language was not just a linguistic shift, but a surrender of agency and self-expression.
By reclaiming indigenous languages and narratives, South Africans are asserting their right to self-determination.
Geographic name changes are more than symbolic gestures; they are acts of reparations and visual redress.
By correcting inaccuracies and restoring indigenous names, SA is confronting the legacies of white supremacy, colonialism and apartheid that persist in the very fabric of society.
As the decolonial scholar Maldonado-Torres argues, coloniality survives colonialism, manifesting in cultural patterns, self-image and even the names of places we inhabit.
Decolonisation, therefore, is an ongoing process of unearthing buried histories and reimagining futures.
In renaming its spaces, SA is not simply changing words on a map and on the signposts; it is rewriting the narrative of its past, present and future.
By reclaiming indigenous names and narratives, the country is asserting its right to self-determination and challenging the entrenched structures of coloniality.
As the landscape transforms, so, too, does the collective consciousness, forging a path towards a more inclusive and decolonised society.
Awethu Fatyela is an employee of the department of sport, recreation, arts & culture. She previously worked as a transformation communication officer at Stellenbosch University’s transformation office. Before this role, Fatyela worked as a researcher for the EFF in parliament. She has written academic papers and a book chapter and presented extensively at international academic conferences about student activism, Eurocentrism, and decolonisation of knowledge in SA.
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