25 March 1900, Silwerfontein, Orange Free State
Dear Wolf,
Bloemfontein has fallen, and we hear reports of the Khakis moving south. I never dreamt the Free State would be breached, nor that the outcome of this awful war would be in doubt. We are most shaken by this news.
On the farm, things seem to remain the same. I feel like I’m repeating myself about lessons and horses and work. I apologise if the entries have become short, but it is truly a reflection of our wartime life here. We may not leave the homestead unaccompanied, and there is no one to accompany us. So here we are.
April 1900
We keep hearing news of our wonderful Commander-in-Chief, General De Wet. Have you met him? His victories give us hope that we might prevail against the Khaki storm.
Lizzie asks about you every day: ‘Tell me stories about Wolf, Rachel. Tell me about when you were little.’ I’m afraid I told her about your stealing Pa’s peach brandy and it nearly blowing the top of your head off! If Ma overheard, she hasn’t said anything, but I think you’re safe from a scolding. She would give anything to see you. As would I.
Late May 1900
We have lost Winburg and Kroonstad this month. How much closer can they come? We have heard that Roberts has ‘annexed’ the Orange Free State for the Queen, and changed its name to Orange River Colony. Ha! As if he has control of the whole republic because he has a few towns occupied! It is so obvious he doesn’t understand us. We have our farms and the veld under our feet still. President Steyn’s government is now mobile, but his lead is still the one we follow. I take comfort knowing that you and Pa are on your horses, riding where the British cannot march, invisible because they don’t know where to look.
June 1900
We received word from Tannie Elsie this week. She is disheartened but not broken by the British occupation of Johannesburg and Pretoria. The Transvaal government and President Kruger left the city in good time, so people can take comfort that all is not lost, though their capital has been. She remains in her house for the moment. She has the shop to run, and no doubt will continue to do well. The Khakis are likely to enjoy her tobacco and cigarettes as much as the burghers did!
August 1900
The war has come to our doorstep. First Bethlehem fell, and then we began to see burghers – hundreds and hundreds of them – coming over the hills and down the roads. And you were amongst them! I cannot describe our joy when you and Pa rode through the gate. I know it wasn’t for long, and that you needed to get into position on the Nek, but that single day was most precious to me. I’m sorry Lizzie was scared of you; I tried to tell her it was you and Pa, but you both looked so different. So hard and tall and thin. And too serious to match her memories of you.
The past month has been nightmarish. When you left, we had to steel ourselves not to weep openly, though I wanted to more than anything. Ma said it would upset you and you would need to focus and be in control. This leaving was the worst. Especially with what followed.
We guessed you would be guarding Naauwpoort Nek to stop the Khakis breaking through into the Basin. We have always felt so safe here in our valley, surrounded by mountains. Now the war had come to our boundary. We knew you were up there on the hillside protecting us. But then the bombardment on Naauwpoort Nek began and we could hear the guns from the house. I have never heard the like, and hope I never will again. Like staccato thunder, those guns boomed, and all we could do was sit in the house and pray for your safety. At two o’clock it became quiet and we continued to sit, not knowing who had won or who was dead.
When Pa came riding through the gate alone, I saw Ma’s knees buckle, though she held the doorframe for support. He scaled the steps in one stride and pulled her into his arms. I had never seen them display affection, but this was a different day. He whispered fiercely into her neck and then looked over her weeping shoulder to where I was standing, hoping I looked stronger than I felt. ‘He’s fine, Rachel. He’s fine,’ were the sweetest words in my ears. Pa had come to say goodbye before you both left quickly for the Golden Gate Pass. He said he planned to escape the Basin. All the passes had fallen, and everyone left was trapped. He said he had lost faith in General Prinsloo and was going to make a run for it. He didn’t know where you and he were going, but he hoped to join General De Wet. He grasped Ma’s arms, holding her firm, his eyes worried, and said, ‘Aletta, hulle kom.’
5 November 1900, Silwerfontein, Orange Free State (my small defiance)
Dear Wolf,
Life has changed dramatically in the district. We are all on edge. There has been much British movement through the valley since General Prinsloo’s surrender at Brandwater Basin. We have been told we have to inform the British authorities of any ‘enemy’ presence on our farms. If we don’t, they will assume we are supporting the commandos and we will be punished. Already, the Van Rooyens’ farmhouse has been burnt down. Tannie Grietjie and her children are hiding in a cave in the cliffs.
We are seeing more and more Boer families on the road, women with their children packed into wagons heading for who knows where. There is nowhere to go, and they can only wander the veld, hoping to return to their homes eventually. Ma says they’re crazy. It’s dangerous in the veld now. Soldiers are everywhere, and the commandos have to move fast. Even if they wanted to, they could not let their families travel with them. There are rumours the British are making camps for the refugees where they can be fed. Ma says it’s a trick, that they’ll be kept prisoner there.
Silwerfontein has been lucky so far. They have left us alone. We’ve had the odd soldier looking for food, but they have been no threat, and Ma packs them a parcel of bread and tells them she thinks our menfolk have been taken prisoner already. That you and Pa are probably in Cape Town. They nod apologetically, grateful for her kindness. She watches them ride away with her fingers crossed behind her back.
The vegetable garden has done well this season, and our pantry is full. We are careful, keeping the animals close. Maybe we’ll be able to ride out the war like this. Quiet and circumspect.
I miss you, Wolf, but I don’t want you to come home. It is too risky – for you and for us.
February 1901, Silwerfontein, Orange Free State
Dear Wolf,
I’ve hidden in the fort we made in the hedge. Ma is looking for me to start the week’s washing. Kristina is looking for me to walk with her to the orchard. I just need a little time to write to you without being disturbed. You’ll be able to imagine the scene exactly. It’s a hot day (it’s why Ma wants to get the washing done and hung out) and my hideout here in the shade is delicious.
The farm continues as usual. Not much to report, except Oupa Jakob returned from the neighbours worried. Oom Steyn said more farms are being burnt. He said the British aren’t even waiting for an argument or proof that we are ‘colluding’ with the commandos. That they are just burning indiscriminately now. Ma said that Oom Steyn has always been full of gloom and we can’t believe everything he says. Anyway, I think that th
The sentence ended abruptly. Underneath, a heavy double line had been drawn across the page. Below the line, Rachel continued in pencil. The writing became much harder to read, scrawled and more desperate.