The Boer in Peace and War by Arthur M. Mann
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Arthur M. Mann >> The Boer in Peace and War
'Have you finished?'
'Yes,' he replied in the 'lands taal'; 'but surely you are in a very
great hurry. I will pay you well for the food and shelter.'
'That's nothing,' continued the vrouw in a business-like tone; 'I only
want the tablecloth so that I can get the bed made.'
CHAPTER VIII
The Boer is a pious person, who prays to God when he wants rain, and
forgets to pray when his mealie crop proves a success. Unlike other
people, he does not believe in thanksgiving when he shells one hundred
bags of mealies where he only expected twenty. He has no 'harvest
home.' He simply stores his mealies until such time as he can bring
them to town and obtain the best possible price. But let the rain stop
away too long and the sun wither up his crops, and he is a very
different man. In every Boer house there is a large Bible, and that
Bible is systematically read and re-read when the fates are unkind.
The very low class Boer is, of course, unable to read his Bible, but
he takes it over to his nearest neighbour, whose education may not
have been neglected to the same extent.
[Illustration: BOERS OUTSPANNED FOR NACHTMAAL.]
The Boer journeys to town once every three months with his family in
order to attend Divine Service. These occasions are known as
Nachtmaal. He brings his waggon with him, and outspans on some open
space within the town. When he cannot arrange for a room or rooms
gratis, he sleeps in his tent waggon. He very seldom goes to a hotel,
unless this course is absolutely necessary. If he does go to a hotel,
he engages a room only, and dines alongside his waggon or else he goes
to his particular storekeeper and indulges in sardines and sweet
biscuits He is great on sardines, and his only regret perhaps, is that
the tin is not edible also.
A Dutch Nachtmaal in the olden days was a sight quite equal to any
Lord Mayor's show. The costumes were unique; but in the present day
the womenfolk in particular have learned to ape the English, and the
colours are therefore less conspicuous. Formerly the young ladies wore
short dresses of many colours, and the display of white stockings was
very general. The men appeared in black felt hats with huge brims,
and frock-coats (most of them bordering on green) were the order of
the day. Veldschoens of home manufacture were never wanting, but in
these latter days veldschoens are regarded with contempt.
The man who probably suffers most at Nachtmaal-time is the organist,
for organs are now regarded as indispensable. An organist is usually a
man of a sensitive nature, and on such occasions his ideas of good
music are apt to be completely demoralized. Nevertheless, he gets
along as best he can, and even if he happens to be dragging a
congregation numbering three hundred voices seven whole notes behind
his instrument, he continues to suffer nobly and silently.
The services commence at 7 a.m., and continue throughout the day until
9.30 p.m. Baptisms occupy a few hours during the afternoon, and the
most common names for youthful burghers are Gert, Barend, Paul, Piet,
and such like. The Boers do not believe in departing from the
time-honoured names of their forefathers. Piet suggests the immortal
name of Piet Retief, and Paul--well, there is Oom Paul.
Before the marriage ceremony can be performed in a Dutch Reformed
Church, the minister must satisfy himself that the contracting parties
have previously been confirmed. Great preparation for the confirmation
is engaged in by the young people a week before Nachtmaal Sunday, on
which day, in presence of the whole congregation, they are received
into the bosom of the Church.
The Boer is very conscientious in the matter of religion. For
instance, should he be on bad terms with any of his friends or
relations, he will not attend Divine Service. He argues that a man who
is not at peace with his fellow-men cannot hope for reconciliation
with his God until the difference has been amicably settled.
It may be observed that the order of service in a Dutch Church is very
similar to that in vogue in a country church in Scotland. The minutest
details have much in common, but perhaps I had better not enlarge
upon such a coincidence. Before each service the menfolk linger in
front of the church door, with their hands stuck deep down in their
pockets and the inevitable pipe between their teeth. They talk about
almost everything except religion--the crops, their petty difficulties
with Kaffirs, the last hailstorm and the havoc it worked, and so on.
The Boers never enter into theological arguments. Each and all place
implicit faith in the Scriptural teachings, and they take for granted
everything from the beginning to the end of their Bibles. Consequently
the teachings of Scripture are not very firmly impressed on their
minds.
When the organ begins to peal forth the voluntary, the worshippers
troop into their seats. During the choral part of the service the
congregation remain seated, and they rise when the minister prays. The
elderly gentlemen very promptly go to sleep when the text is given
out, and they lean back in their respective corners with the full
assurance that they will not be disturbed for at least an hour.
Occasionally they may be gently aroused by their wives or children,
whose supply of sweets has been exhausted. By the way, every Boer in
the country has one particular weakness, and that is a desire after
sweets. The young men recklessly walk into a store whenever they come
to town, and devote a portion of their capital to the purchase of
'Dutch mottoes,' to which the ladies are very partial. The elderly men
are not so particular in this respect.
When the benediction is about to be pronounced, there is a general
scramble after hats, and the last Amen has scarcely been uttered when
there is a rush for the doors. It seems to amount to a sort of
competition as to who will be first in the street.
It may be interesting to pause for a moment and look at the
collections. The poorer classes besiege the stores on Saturday with
anxious inquiries for 'stickeys,' i.e., threepenny-pieces. To a poor
man with a large family of church-goers this matter of church
collections is a serious business unless he can get four mites out of
a shilling, as coppers are not used in the Transvaal; but I have
known men of good standing inquire as eagerly for the despised
threepenny-piece. When special collections are called for, in aid of a
new organ fund, for instance, the results are rather surprising. In
one instance the combined special collections on a Nachtmaal Sunday
amounted to a little over L500, with a congregation of only 400. This
points to the fact that there is money enough in the country, and it
only requires a church collection to prove it.
It is to be regretted that the Boer does not devote a little more
attention to the education of his children. If there happens to be a
school anywhere near his farm, he does not mind taking advantage of
this with a view to 'teaching the young idea how to shoot'; but
perhaps he takes too literal a view of this adage. His chief care is
to see that his boys are taught to shoot straight, and he does not
attach so much importance as he might to the three R's. The Boer who
can afford such luxuries engages a tutor for his children, but tutors
are mostly of the English persuasion. They have not yet learned to
appreciate the language of the country, and this constitutes a serious
barrier. Again, one does not expect much of a country school, and the
majority of the men who preside over these institutions in the Dutch
Republics are there simply because they can obtain no more lucrative
an occupation. A number of Free State farmers invariably 'trek' to
Natal with their families and stock during the winter months, and this
affords an opportunity for placing the children at more advanced
schools; but then again the objection is serious--the masters are
English.
[Illustration: BLOEMFONTEIN.]
In the town of Bloemfontein, Orange Free State, where the Volksraad
thunders forth its mighty convictions, there is a model Young Ladies'
College. It seems that one day recently the members of the Raad found
themselves in want of debatable motions, and it fell to the lot of one
of their number to save the situation. That member directed the
attention of his brethren to a certain question affecting the proper
conduct of the Young Ladies' College aforesaid. It had come to his
knowledge that the Principal of the College had granted, to certain
of the pupils who desired it, permission to pray to Almighty God in
the English language. The member forcibly contended that this
lamentable state of affairs should not exist, but that every pupil in
the College should be compelled to pray to God in the language of the
country! A general discussion followed, but it was ultimately allowed
that this matter did not come within the jurisdiction of that Raad.
CHAPTER IX
Every town has its Landdrost, and every town has its Landdrost's
clerk. Usually the clerk does all the work, and the Landdrost, in his
capacity of chief magistrate, passes all the sentences and issues all
the instructions. But, then, Landdrosts, as a rule, are very agreeable
people, possibly because they are educated and intelligent men, and
have nothing in common with the Boer.
I have one particular Landdrost in my mind as I write. He was a dear
old man, but he was dead against Kaffirs and natives generally. His
father had been killed by Kaffirs, and this fact probably rankled in
his bosom and ruled his judgments to a great extent. When he wanted to
show a little bit of leniency, as, for instance, after an
extraordinarily good breakfast, he would bind the culprit over to
serve in his own kitchen for a period of one year without
remuneration. But he never did get a native to serve the full time,
because the native preferred to break the law once more and go to
'tronk' instead. Hard work was not in his line.
He is dead now, poor man! but he was a regular type of a Landdrost. He
lived a very quiet life, and the brunt of the work fell to the lot of
the ever-willing and conscientious clerk, which arrangement allowed
the Landdrost sufficient leisure to attend to a somewhat large garden.
There were fruit trees in that garden which in the fruit season
incited every boy in town to deeds of valour, the said deeds
consisting in being able to carry away as much fruit as possible
without being caught in the act. For the Landdrost exercised a
watchful eye over that fruit. It was currently reported, however, that
his was the first garden to be literally left desolate before the
season had far advanced, and it was usually his misfortune to be
deprived of his fruit just after he had retired for the night, after
having prowled about with an empty gun in his hand from sunset till
late in the evening. It was even reported that one evening, after the
old man had retired as usual, a certain person who had a strong
predilection for other people's fruit approached the Landdrost's
garden with a handcart and a lantern, and assisted himself freely
before taking his departure.
In conclusion, and as an illustration of the moral tendencies of young
Boers generally, I shall now quote a little scene which was written
some time ago for another purpose.
In a mealie-field close to a certain farm, which shall be nameless, a
curious scene was being witnessed by a very stout Dutch lady. She was
standing at the edge of the field. Above her head myriads of locusts
floated in a darkening mass. The mealie stalks were only a foot or so
high, but the locusts knew that they were green, and therefore good to
eat, so they hovered around. The mealies were in rows, and between
these rows galloped half-a-dozen horses carrying half-a-dozen very raw
natives. The latter were making such a hideous noise, that it seemed
to point to remarkable staying powers on the part of the locusts,
inasmuch as they still persisted in trying to gain a footing. But the
Kaffirs cantered their steeds faster, and the noise waxed more
hideous, and the fat vrouw continued to urge them to renewed and
increased effort. Round the edges of the patch four or five Kaffir
women walked, each at a different point, and each in possession of a
five-gallon empty paraffin tin and a stick, with which to strengthen
and augment the noisy defence. The locusts were reinforced every
minute, and they made repeated and determined efforts to sample the
young mealies, but the horsemen and the paraffin tins were too much
for them.
A small white boy was standing near the fat lady, watching the
proceedings with a critical eye. His dress was very primitive, and his
home-made veldschoens were very large, but he was a healthy-looking
boy.
'Ma,' he said at length, looking up into the fat lady's face, 'I see
something.'
This was rather a peculiar remark to make, because undoubtedly he must
see something, not being blind.
'Yes,' returned his 'ma,' without taking her eyes off the mealie
patch, 'what do you see, son?'
'I won't tell you, ma.'
'Ma' paid no particular attention to this decision on the part of her
small son, but he continued to look into his 'ma's' face as if
uncertain about something.
'Ma, I won't tell you what I see,' he continued, coming up closer to
the stout lady and catching hold of her hand.
'Why won't you tell me, son?' asked 'ma,' looking down affectionately
upon the white head of her boy.
'Not until you promise me something, ma.'
'Well, what must I promise you?'
The boy hesitated for a minute before replying. He had apparently
grave doubts as to whether 'ma' would concede even if he did ask her.
'Ma, I want to shoot Witbooi with my gun.'
Witbooi was a Kaffir umfaan, who had no particular liking for his
young Baas.
'I can't promise you that until your pa comes home, Gert,' said his
'ma,' patting him lovingly on the head, and at the same time lending
her critical eye to the mealie business.
The boy left his mother's side and walked away a few yards, evidently
disgusted with unsympathetic 'mas.' Then, apparently changing his
mind, he ran towards her again, and clung to her dress, meantime
looking up in her face.
'I'll tell you, ma--I'll tell you,' he said laughingly.
'That's a good boy,' said 'ma,' again patting him on the head.
'I see waggons coming; that's it!' exclaimed the boy, running away
playfully, and observing with evident satisfaction the look of
surprise on his mother's face, as if it atoned somewhat for the
disappointment regarding the fate of Witbooi.
Billing and Sons, Printers, Guildford