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Robert Moffat by David J. Deane

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Still farther north, beyond Damaraland is Ovampoland, occupied by the
Missionary Society of Finland. Seven ordained Missionaries and three
Christian artisans were equipped and despatched to work in this region,
at the suggestion of the Rhenish Society. Their enterprise is of
comparatively recent date and results cannot yet be tabulated. The
influence for good exerted will, however, doubtless yield fruit
by-and-by.

The missions of the Berlin Society stretch from the eastern portion of
Cape Colony to the Transvaal, and embrace also the Orange Free State and
the Diamond Fields. They have over 7000 converts, and a large number of
children under instruction in various schools.

Basutoland, to the east of the Orange Free State, is cared for by the
French Evangelical Missionary Society, who commenced work in South
Africa in 1829. Their first missionaries were appointed to the
Bahurutse, then tributary to Moselekatse, but being repulsed through the
jealousy of that potentate they settled at Motito, and finally accepted
an invitation from Moshesh, chief of the Basutos, to work among that
people. The mission has fourteen principal stations and sixty-six
out-stations, with about 20,000 adherents, of whom about 3500 are Church
members.

In 1835 six missionaries, appointed by the American Board of Foreign
Missions, arrived from the United States to labour in South Africa.
Three proceeded to Natal and settled near Durban. The other three
journeyed to Moselekatse at Mosega. Their mission was however broken up
through the incursions of the Boers, and they were compelled to flee to
Natal. For some years the mission there was much harassed through war,
but it is now firmly established and is doing excellent work of a
religious and educational character, having a number of well-instructed
native pastors and teachers, besides the staff of European missionaries.
In 1886 the Board reports having in connection with this mission seven
stations and seventeen out-stations, and 886 Church members.

The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel commenced its missions in
South Africa in 1838. Its work is divided between the Colonists and the
natives, and is carried on in Cape Colony and Natal; its dioceses
stretching round the coast much in the same manner as the Wesleyan
stations.

Besides those already mentioned, there are at work now in South Africa
the Norwegian Missionary Society, labouring in Natal and Zululand; the
Hermannsburg Mission, founded by Pastor Harms, whose operations are
carried on in Natal, Zululand, and the Transvaal; and the Swiss society,
The Mission of the Free Church of the Canton de Vaud, whose efforts are
directed to a tribe inhabiting a country between Delagoa Bay and
Sofala.[B]

[B]: [Many of the facts contained in this review of Mission work in South
Africa have been gleaned from "South Africa," by the Rev. James Sibree,
F.R.G.S.]

Thus the missionary cause has grown, notwithstanding the many
difficulties it has had to contend with, and now the sound of the Gospel
is heard throughout the land. From the southernmost part of what was the
"Dark Continent," but which is now termed by some the "Twilight
Continent," and which we trust may soon be blessed with the full light
of Christianity, there stretches away a series of mission stations right
to the Zambesi; and there joining hands with the system of Central
African missions the glad tidings of salvation are wafted onward to the
great lake, the Victoria Nyanza, in the north; eastward to the coast;
and, in the west, made known to thousands by means of the various
organisations now doing such excellent work on the Congo River.

In a central position, amidst the tribes of South Africa, Kuruman, the
scene of Robert Moffat's trials and triumphs, stands to-day, surrounded
by a number of native towns and villages, where native teachers, trained
in the Moffat Institute, are located, and native Churches have been
formed,--a beacon shedding its glorious rays around, dispelling the
darkness, and bringing the heathen to the knowledge of the Saviour,
Jesus Christ.




THE END.






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We do not know the women's names, but their voices are quite distinct. All are pregnant. But while the first woman awaits the birth of her baby with a moon-like serenity, the other two are not so lucky. One, whose previous pregnancies have failed to go to term, is experiencing a heartbreaking late miscarriage; the other is a young student whose accidental pregnancy will end in her child being put up for adoption.

Sylvia Plath's only play was never intended for the stage, being broadcast instead on BBC radio in August 1962. Less than six months later, Plath killed herself, but not before the burst of astonishing creative energy that produced her extraordinary, terrifying Ariel poems.

Anyone who knows Plath's poetry will see the connection between Three Women and Plath's subsequent poems, particularly in the way she talks about the agony of childbirth, the rush of love for this tiny alien being, and both the wonder and wounded rawness of motherhood. It is a beautiful piece, full of startling imagery that draws you in through the sheer intensity of its femaleness, and because it so precisely articulates the emotions that are often thought but seldom voiced by women - certainly not in the early 1960s - about men, motherhood and our relationship to our bodies.

It's been 20 years since there has been an attempt at a professional stage version and - in a theatre world that happily accepts the poetic offerings of Sarah Kane and Debbie Tucker Green, or the staged possibilities of The Waves, one of Plath's own inspirations for the piece, I see no reason why it shouldn't be brought to life. Sadly, it doesn't breathe here, in a production by Robert Shaw that is clearly a labour of love, but which never finds a way to give the internal a physical reality. Plath's poetry, like most babies, is more robust than it appears - and won't break if treated with a little less reverence and considerably more grit.

Instead, what we are offered is tinkling piano music, mournful mood lighting, an innocuous pale setting, as well as three perfectly good but indisputably ladylike performances that capture none of the wounded redness of Plath's poetry, and do her the disservice of making her sound bleached and somewhat prissy. It's a pity. What might have been a wonder ends up a mere curiosity.

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