Letter from a farmer’s wife
For quite some time I have struggled with the idea of writing this letter – should I or shouldn’t I? Would I be stirring, getting bad feedback and criticism in return? Be that as it may, I am convinced I am not the only woman in South Africa feeling this way. I know this, numerous documentaries and videos have driven me to tears for no other reason than my complete understanding of the plight of the female character.
I am married to a chicken farmer. Our son is eight months old and we stay on a farm.
A farm. Growing up on a farm was something we all wished for. Raising children on a farm even more so. With the ability to play for hours outside, only to go home when you are hungry. Today, as it is, living on a farm is no longer moonlight and roses. We are familiar with the views and perspectives held by men, but I want to share, as a farmer’s wife, what it is like living currently on a farm in South Africa.
I do not consider myself a “boervrou” (female farmer) since I do not know what it takes to farm on a daily basis. Although I do not deserve to be called a female farmer I am proud to be called “a farmer’s wife”.
All women and mothers have fears of their own. But we share a common fear – the fear for our own lives, and the lives of our husbands and children. As a farmer’s wife you know the gratitude of waking up in the morning, spared overnight from eight armed men raping your little girl or burning your little boy with boiling water. You know what it feels like to see your husband’s face in the morning, knowing that you have survived another night.