I think I may be a victim of identity theft

In the past, there were easy markers of identity that I'm struggling ever more to find these days.


Growing up in Krugersdorp in the old Transvaal, I was very fortunate that my parents loved the sea and tookus on holiday to the Natal South Coast at least three times a year. Those were the days when number plates on cars indicated the town of registration. They were black plates with white lettering. The number plate on my dad’s Ranger was TK 25022. Number plates of vehicles registered in Johannesburg all started with TJ. It was always fascinating to see other TK cars in Margate. Many conversations were struck up with strangers just because of their car’s registration number.…

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Growing up in Krugersdorp in the old Transvaal, I was very fortunate that my parents loved the sea and took
us on holiday to the Natal South Coast at least three times a year.

Those were the days when number plates on cars indicated the town of registration. They were black plates with white lettering. The number plate on my dad’s Ranger was TK 25022.

Number plates of vehicles registered in Johannesburg all started with TJ.

It was always fascinating to see other TK cars in Margate. Many conversations were struck up with strangers just because of their car’s registration number. The TK meant we shared a hometown. It was a building block in our identity.

Those introductions would often lead to the one question I still get asked: Am I related to some famous or infamous individual with whom I share a surname.

Fact is, all the Toeriens are related, if the information in the family tree is accurate. Apparently, we are all descendants of an illiterate Swedish immigrant.

Having a not-too-common surname has always been a rather solid identity building block. At school, Afrikaans was another identity builder. The biggest humiliation was losing a rugby match against an English school.

And when we went on a rugby tour to the Free State, we played against plaasjapies in towns like Bothaville and Steynsrus – their biggest humiliation losing against us “softies” from the city.

Growing up, there were hundreds, if not thousands, of little things that all contributed to creating and shaping our individual and collective identities.

Today, my number plate only shows that I live somewhere in Gauteng and, when I’m in Cape Town, I have no desire to introduce myself to anybody who drives a car with a GP plate.

My services account proves that I no longer live in Krugersdorp, but in Mogale City. Both the primary and high schools I attended have become dual-medium schools.

I still have my surname but share it with people I am not related to.

I think I may be a victim of identity theft.

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