In Cape Town the Dutch planted hedges to keep out ‘the other’ South Africans, the migrating Khoikhoi. The stories of how the settlers headed inland on oxcarts, with hopes and (religious) zeal, still live on in the stories by the village storytellers. In towns betraying the colonial past, she meets black inhabitants who don’t care that the Dutch place-name will soon disappear and impoverished whites that nobody cares for anymore. Is there room for ‘The white tribe of Africa’ as president Jacob Zuma calls it?