PRETORIA, South Africa - As a shaft of sunlight filtered through an opening in the ceiling of the Voortrekker Monument yesterday, two men put their lips to rams' horns and blew, pulling deep, sad notes out of the air.
It was noon on the Day of the Vow, the most sacred moment of the year for members of South Africa's white tribe, the Afrikaners.
Each year at this granite monument set on a hill outside Pretoria, Afrikaners come to commemorate what they believe was a divinely inspired victory in the Battle of Blood River on Dec. 16, 1838, when 470 pioneer ancestors - with the advantage of guns - defeated 10,000 Zulu warriors.
The monument is designed so that at precisely noon on the anniversary of the battle, sunlight beams through a hole in the roof to an empty tomb 200 feet below that is meant to recall the sacrifices of the Afrikaner pioneers. The tomb is engraved with the Afrikaans words: Ons vir jou, Suid-Afrika ("We for thee, South Africa").
It is a deeply spiritual event for these descendants of Dutch settlers who led South Africa's apartheid government, one that many believe reaffirms their role as God's chosen people and their connection to Africa.
But this year's celebration of the 164th anniversary of the Battle of Blood River comes as Afrikaners are voicing feelings of alienation and discontent. The ray of sunlight this year fell on a country that has been rocked in recent months by a series of bombings organized, police say, by right-wing Afrikaner groups seeking to overthrow the black-led government.
The first incident occurred shortly after midnight Oct. 30, when nine bombs exploded in Soweto, a black township outside Johannesburg, killing one person and damaging a mosque and railway lines.
In November, bombs exploded at a police station near Cape Town, an airport outside Johannesburg and a bridge in KwaZulu Natal province. No one was hurt, but the blasts underscored the threat posed by right-wing groups. Police have arrested more than 30 people tied to extremist groups and are seeking other suspects.
As young and old gathered in the monument's marble-walled hall yesterday for a morning of prayer and hymns, most condemned the bombings, considering them the work of a small number of radical Afrikaners. But many said they understood the frustration that may have motivated the bombers.
"I don't support the bombers, but they were trying to send a message," said Johannes Van Niekerk, a machinist from Boksburg. "They didn't want to hurt anyone. They just want the government to come to the table and talk to them. We have to get the black government to remember we are here."
Eight years after the end of white-minority rule, Afrikaners, who make up the majority of South Africa's 4.5 million whites, are still economically better off than most black South Africans. But like many Afrikaners, Van Niekerk complains that his culture, people and language are under threat by the new government.
Afrikaans, the official language of the apartheid government, is being heard less often in schools, businesses and government offices and courts. Afrikaans is so out of style, Van Niekerk says, that he is sometimes afraid to speak it at work or when shopping.
Afrikaners say they feel discriminated against in the workplace by government affirmative-action programs to uplift black South Africans. They are also demanding that the government do more to control crime in the countryside, where hundreds of Afrikaners have been murdered in attacks on their farms.
"We are worried that increasing disaffection and alienation among Afrikaners may lead to further violence and instability," warned members of the Group of 63, an Afrikaner intellectual group, in a letter written to President Thabo Mbeki after the bombings in Soweto.
The government denies that it has forgotten the Afrikaners. Mbeki has met recently with Afrikaner political leaders, and his ruling African National Congress has forged a coalition with the New National Party, the successor to the National Party that ran apartheid South Africa.
But during yesterday's celebration, it was clear that many Afrikaners feel lost in the country they once ruled. Although Afrikaners still refer to Dec. 16 as the Day of the Vow, the new government renamed the public holiday the Day of Reconciliation in an effort to heal the country's deep racial divide.
Men and women attending the celebration came dressed in period costumes to recall the Great Trek, the covered wagon journey made by Afrikaners from the Western Cape deep into the African mainland to flee British control.
A man in a wide-brimmed hat who looked as if he had walked out of the Battle of Blood River paraded around the monument grounds carrying an apartheid-era flag over his shoulder.
Two men stood near the top of the monument blowing ram's horns as a call to Afrikaners to remember their vow to God. Many young Afrikaners spend the Day of the Vow at shopping malls instead of visiting the monument, the men complained.
But that wasn't true for Jean Paul Botes, 19, of Roodeport, who said after the ceremony that he felt recommitted to the ideals of the old South Africa.
"If they don't want to hear, let them feel," Botes said in support of the attacks against the government. "We're coming back. Afrikaners are here to stay."
Not so long ago, such ideas would have been heard regularly here. During the height of apartheid, the Voortrekker Monument was a powerful symbol of Afrikaner nationalism and was used to advance the government's racist agenda.
But since 1994, organizers have cleaned up the event, steering clear of any political statements during the ceremony and keeping right-wing groups far away. Much to the dismay of many Afrikaners, former President Nelson Mandela was invited to unveil a statue of a Boer War hero at the monument this year. Yesterday, others were unhappy to see the new South African flag displayed prominently at the front of the great hall.
Many may not have been pleased either by the message of the pastor. Standing before some 2,000 Afrikaners, Andries Breytenbach, a local pastor, questioned Afrikaners' place as God's chosen people who could, in effect, do no wrong. Under apartheid, such teachings were used by the government to justify Afrikaners' privileged position above the black majority.
Breytenback warned that God would be by their side only so long as they obeyed his teachings.
"There is a strange belief among some Afrikaners - and those who are planting bombs - that God is on their side, that their cause is God's cause. That is not the living God," said Breytenbach later.
His sermon over, the congregation waited eagerly to see the sun's ray. At noon, it came, throwing a small circle of light on the words that Afrikaners hold dear. It would have been hard to convince many Afrikaners that it wasn't shining down from heaven.
"God kept his promise. There were no clouds today," said Van Niekerk as he left, moved by the experience. "It makes my heart weak. It touches me. I want to go tell everyone to be here next year."