This afternoon a column struck camp half a mile north of our Camp.
To-morrow is Sunday; I am quite unprepared, and must hold two services.
Walked through Camp this evening (10 p.m.); found several women busy round fire; all to warm "pap" (poultice) for sick children. Pneumonia is playing havoc.
Better stop; feeling tootoo to-night; and besides, my two letters have again been returned by the Censor, and I am too cross for anything.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Mr. Van As and Mr. Fourie laid out the floor for my tent, and encircled it with a 9-inch wall.
[2] Each tent was numbered.
[3] Not real church elders; each, however, had a block of tents under his care.
[4] Stream between Camp and village; it only had running water, though, after rain.
[5] Mr. Van As"s eldest daughter.
[6] Sannie Otto was the bosom friend of Sarah van As. Sarah has since died.
[7] My father was for many years minister at Colesberg, and my uncle again at Fauresmith.
[8] Some friends at Durbanville subscribed about 20, with which I had bought some invalid food, to take down with me from Cape Town (beef tea, Benger"s Food, jelly, arrowroot, dozen bottles of port). While visiting the sick I noted down the most distressing cases, and after the day"s work I made a final round to these tents with some of this invalid food.
[9] Pieter de Lint, an old College friend.
[10] Our Hymnary is divided into Psalms and Evangelical hymns (Psalmen en Gezangen).
[11] I decided to note down always in diary my text for the address at the gravesides. Our people expect the pastor to give an address before reading the Burial Service.
[12] What with water to be carried, rations to be fetched, wood to be brought and chopped, food to be cooked (in the open), bread to be baked, washing to be done (not to speak of the menial sanitary duties), it was indeed hard for a mother (herself perhaps weak), with a number of sick children, to keep her tent clean.
[13] Van Huysteens. The mother was shot while they were fleeing before the English. There was a babe of five months.
[14] As a pigeon feeds its young.
[15] Where I have often camped out.
[16] College chum.
[17] The twelfth was probably in hospital.
[18] When removing the dead from a certain section of the Camp, the bearers had to pa.s.s my tent.
[19] She was a probationer.
[20] The women, brandishing the meat ration on high, literally laid siege to the official tent. The meat supplied was miserably lean, quite unfit for consumption. I myself wouldn"t have given it to a dog. When thrown against a wall, for instance, it would stick. Throughout the Camp it was dubbed "vrekvlys" (a man dies, an animal "vreks"-vlys is meat). The flour given was good, for the bread was usually excellent.
[21] This number soon grew to 800.
[22] There were three such tents about 100 yards beyond the hospital; they were the most dilapidated tents in the whole Camp, always open; they were occasionally blown down.
[23] A ration of coal was sometimes served out.
[24] Another old College chum.
[25] The Van As"s received my ration (which was same as theirs), and I took all my meals with them.
[26] This doctor, a most capable man, was always most friendly to me. I had learnt to humour him, and he was ever willing to accompany me, even at night, to desperate cases. He was, however, almost as universally detested as he was feared, and ultimately was knocked down by an irate husband.
CHAP. II.
Sunday, September 1.-Recklessness; preached twice to-day without any preparation; "sommer uit die vuis uit" (literally, straight from the fist); simply compelled to; very unpleasant day; wind and dust; made services very short; fifty-five minutes.
In afternoon a large crowd of young people.
Mr. Otto took funerals for me this morning (eleven buried).
This afternoon Mr. Becker buried six.
About fourteen have died since last night.
It is pitiable to see the innocent little children and babies suffering and struggling against the accursed pneumonia; and there seems no hope when once they get it. Poor little mites!
A census taken lately gives 683 as the number of sick. Milk ration[27] has been stopped since yesterday; new sorrow. Our Camp a veritable valley of desolation. For the very essence of sorrow and misery, come here! For weeping, wailing mothers, come here! For broken hearts, come here! For desperate misery and hopelessness, come here! What would become of us if we had not our Religion to fall back upon! What, if we had not the a.s.surance that a Good and Merciful G.o.d reigns above! What if there was no Love! What, if there was no hope of the Resurrection and Life Everlasting! What, if there is nothing beyond the Grave!
The nights here are so awful, and one yearns for day; and then the fearfulness of being awakened repeatedly in the night by the tramp of those who carry away the dead to the morgue tents. I woke last night in such a way, and knew that they were bearing young Herklaas away. One grows a bit pessimistic under the circ.u.mstances. Despite my services, I had to visit several sick-mostly dying children, with weeping mothers. It is so hard to pray, and so very wearying. And then, to comfort and cheer, when your own heart is lead within.
In the hospital there are many sick; am neglecting the hospital, and my conscience hurts, but am going regularly from to-morrow; must find time somewhere.
Mrs. De Lint"s children are all sick; baby very bad; poor woman; am so sorry for her; Peter away in Ceylon.
Those deep rings round the eyes, which one sees all about, bear testimony to nights of watching and of anguish in the heart. May G.o.d take pity!
Monday, September 2.-Bitter day, the bitterest I have yet had; Superintendent furious because of my last letters[28]. The worst is I see that I am altogether misunderstood, and that I am suspected now of interfering and working against the Superintendent. And yet this is not so, for I would go to-morrow if I knew I was at all hostile to the authorities. I fear I have been indiscreet in what I wrote; shall have straight talk to-morrow, and ask Superintendent to let me resign if I have not his confidence; there must be no suspicion, otherwise I cannot stay. This matter is a load upon my heart.
Busy day; new tents 63, 552a, 50, 40, all with sick children except 552, where young man is very sick.
Called to hospital; Mrs. Retief dying; prayer; expired just after. Hurried to 34, but found I was just too late; Mrs. Ackerman just died.
156; very sad case; mother, Mrs. Joubert, died this morning, and when I came I found three helpless little ones all alone, and sick too; father in Bloemfontein Camp; the grandmother will provide, I understand.
Had short conversation with Mr. Branders, Superintendent Sunday School, and decided to exhort parents to send children to school.
395; Mrs. Botha very ill; twenty-eight days in bed; advise removal hospital; this afternoon doctor called and said she was dying; she leaves a baby.
Went to few cases with doctor; very interesting; get on well with him.