The Castle of Good Hope, situated in Cape Town’s bustling central business district (CBD), is the oldest existing colonial building in South Africa and is considered the best-preserved example of a 17th-century architectural structure in the entire world, according to the landmark’s website. With its history dating as far back as the 1600s, the Castle, as it is commonly referred to, still echoes the legacies of key historical figures. But in recent years, it has also brought to light the stories of the people who were once meant to remain only as ghosts of the Castle.
The Castle’s Dutch name is “Kasteel de Goede Hoop”. It is a bastion fort built in the 17th century. PHOTO: Callan Riddles
Walking through the entrance of the Castle, the sounds of the constant honking of taxis as they congest the streets of Cape Town’s CBD, and the drilling sounds of construction close by, seem to fade away as the historical landmark demands all attention.
The Castle has been built to last. Made of massive chunks of rock and slate, the Castle stands tall and well preserved among the modern architecture of the buzzing city center, clinging to centuries of history within its walls. The surrounding fort’s walls are high enough to shield the public from seeing what lies inside, with canons placed strategically around the top of the fort to provide some clue.
The Castle’s history and ties to Stellenbosch
According to the Castle’s official website, the Castle was the meeting place of the Cape’s governors during the late 1600s. It contained a church, bakery, various workshops, living quarters, shops, and cells, among other facilities.
The Castle links to the origins of Stellenbosch through the remaining influences of Simon van der Stel. His legacy still lingers within the Castle through the Van der Stel Garden in the courtyard; the Van der Stel gate (the main gate to the Castle, which is unlocked during the Castle’s Key Ceremony most days of the week) and also Van der Stel’s room within the Castle, confirms Sonwabile Maxebengula who is the Heritage, Culture and Education Officer at the Castle.
“Simon van der Stel worked up through the ranks under the guidance of his father and he then became a governor of the Cape,” says Maxebengula.
He explains that the Castle was built between 1666 and 1679, and when it was completed, Van der Stel wanted to explore outside of the Castle.
“You read in history books that he then founded Stellenbosch,” says Maxebengula.
Even after Stellenbosch was founded, they were not independent, with the magistrate remaining at the Castle, explains Maxebengula. It was only in the later 1600s that they became independent, he says.
It was also during the late 1600s that Adam Tas arrived at the Castle. At the time, his family was poor, says Maxebengula. Although he married a woman who brought him wealth and fame, Maxebengula says it is believed that when he saw the Khoi people with huge herds of cattle, he thought less of them. This is believed to later have spurred the formation of the Brotherhood, or ‘Broederbond’ in Stellenbosch, who later became the architects of Apartheid, says Maxebengula.
The Castle’s website confirms that part of the castle was used as a prison during the Second Boer War (1899–1902) and the former cells and torture chambers remain to this day.
The torture chambers and prison cells were small, dungeon-like rooms, which, when closed, let little to no light in the room. Prisoners could spend months or even years in these cells. PHOTO: Callan Riddles 
There are many etchings on the doors made by the prisoners, including one which reads “In this place, a man has been, five months and more without a crime.” PHOTO: Callan Riddles 
A prison cell. PHOTO: Callan Riddles
Once in the castle, prisoners were already guilty, says Shamir Robertson, a tour guide at the Castle.
“If they were even just suspected of their crime, there was punishment,” he says, who adds that even if put on trial, they were always found guilty.
Punishments at the Castle included dismemberment, dragging through the Castle attached to a horse, piercings with a stake at the gallows, whippings and beatings, and long periods of isolation in the prison cells, says Maxebengula.
Transformation at the Castle
The current chief executive officer of the Castle control board, Calvyn Gilfellan, now occupies the offices that were once reserved for the colonial governors of the Castle.
“This, for centuries, was the seat of all political power in the country,” says Gilfellan.
Gilfellan adds that the offices also once served as the head offices for the South African Army in the Western Cape, during the 1900s.
“So, when they first offered me these offices, I said: no man, every morning I must walk in here and see all the commanding officers’ pictures here. So, the first things I had to remove were those pictures,” says Gilfellan.
Calvyn Gilfellan (left) and Sonwabile Maxebengula (right) holding one of the portraits a commanding officer, which Gilfellan removed from his offices. PHOTO: Callan Riddles
He says that one of the officers who was pictured on the wall has since been alleged to have sexually assaulted “so-called coloured boys”, and Gilfellan did not want to have to see his image. This was the beginning of transformation at the Castle.
Gilfellan has now replaced the portraits of the commanding officers with symbolic historical figures of South African history.
“They are literally the seeds of the Dutch planted 350 years ago, [the product of] the mixing of the Dutch with indigenous people, including Namibia, parts of Botswana and South Africa,” Gilfellan says.
The portraits of the commanding officers have been replaced with mixed-race historical figures, descended from Dutch and native people. PHOTO: Callan Riddles
The transformation has spread through the rest of the Castle too.
“If you look at the main courtyard, you’ll see there are four statues in front of the space which arguably symbolises the strength of colonial power,” says Gilfellan.
The four statues he is referring to are situated in the middle of the courtyard of the Castle, the first place the eye is drawn when entering the fortress. The statues are in front of the De Kat Balcony, held up by six pillars and fashioned in traditional Dutch design.
Gilfellan says the office behind the statues were used by the colonial governors to hold council meetings and they would announce their important decisions and decrees from the balcony.
“What we’ve selected to do is counter the power represented in that space. We’ve put the statues of four prominent figures who fought colonial rule,” says Gilfellan. “We’ve included one Khoi, one Zulu, one Hlubi and one Pedi leader, [although] there were many others who resisted colonialism,” says Gilfellan.
Statues, from left to right, of King Cetshwayo, a formidable Zulu king who fought against colonial rule and was imprisoned at the Castle in 1879; Nommoa Doman Goringhaiqua, a leader of a small group of warriors who fought against invading European colonialists in the first Khoi-Dutch war in 1659; King Langalibalele, leader of the AmaHlubi who was imprisoned in the Castle in 1874 for treason and rebellion; and King Sekhukhune of the BaPedi, a leader also imprisoned in the Castle in 1879. Maxebengula says that their stories were not recorded for many years but kept alive through their people telling their stories. PHOTO: Callan Riddles
Transformation echoes in the museums and exhibits spread throughout the Castle. These displays include details and artefacts of the Zulu and Khoi settlements, soldiers, weapons and how they fought in wars, such as the Anglo-Zulu war and the Khoisan wars of resistance against the Dutch.
In December 2018, the Castle also launched their Centre for Memory, Healing and Learning, which their website mentions is sponsored by the military veterans’ department, and is “flanked by a torture chamber and jail cells where kings and chiefs were incarcerated”.
The centre, which was previously named the Adam Tas Hall, houses state-of-the-art conferencing technology, which Maxebengula says was an investment made to last for years to come, as opposed to spending the funds on something temporary, like an event.
“17th-century building, with 21st-century technology,” remarks Maxebengula.
The Castle’s Centre for Memory, Healing and Learning. PHOTO: Callan Riddles
Telling history, warts and all
You must consider how to strike the balance between the instances when human rights need to be at the core of the decision, and when to preserve heritage, Gilfellan says.
In the instances where they choose transformation, Gilfellan says that those are the moments when they choose to correct a previous false sense of history that is skewed, incomplete and full of fear and exclusion.
Dr Chet Fransch, a history lecturer at Stellenbosch University, adds that, in the past, there has been a lack supporting archival evidence for colonised groups, which has led to this skewed sense of history.
“Most colonial agents, and people responsible for documenting narratives on colonised groups, were not interested in the welfare of these groups, nor their achievements,” says Fransch.
“Their concern was primarily on how to subjugate groups and earmarking those who were not complying. Their accounts, therefore, are largely dismissive and condescending,” he adds.
History needs to be told warts and all.
Calvyn Gilfellan
Gilfellan says that when it comes to transformation, with every change, as well as with everything that remains as is, contestation always follows.
“But history needs to be told warts and all,” says Gilfellan.