Chapter 2
One woman just giving her last breath when I entered to pray for her; lamentation. Roaring lion, because of the crowd of inquisitives; stood at doorway and addressed them; said I was ashamed of their conduct; boiled over. Simply will not stand such things; and yet such things are inevitable with a camp of 650[21] tents all crowded together; with hundreds swarming all over, and countless children. Am going to put a stop to children visiting morgue tents[22]; should not be allowed; will see Superintendent to-morrow.
91 very bad.
I usually make a last round after the day's work to take Benger's Food and beef tea, etc., to urgent cases. When I got to 268, found she had died soon after my visit.
Have written to Issie and Mr. Robertson.
Wonder how long my things will last, and what I shall do after that.
Dead tired.
* * * * *
Friday, August 30.--Village; morning visits.
Found 91 died in night.
Dropped in to speak few words to old woman in 25; don't think she will last very long.
79; boy sick; relapse; Van der Berg; baby died yesterday
Mrs. Castelan lies sick in 76; husband Bloemfontein Camp; three children sick; also daughter just out of hospital (1-1/4 months).
Called in at 217; Du Preez; very nice, clean people; daughter very sick; pneumonia; found her very much distressed, and that because the thought of being buried without coffin was so repulsive; "Net sous een beest" (just like an animal). We must not anticipate God!
Am much distressed that 383, who was getting well so nicely, and who smiled when I looked in yesterday, has died.
Mother died few weeks ago, and sister few days ago.
Near the coalfields[23] I was called to see Mrs. Van der Walt; 191; heart bad; most desperately anxious to be taken "home," and quite ready too; wonder if she will live through the night!
When a person decides and is determined to die, the chances at recovery are very poor indeed.
Mr. Otto called and asked me to take prayer meeting 2 p.m. "En Samuel bad den Heere" (And Samuel prayed unto the Lord).
Then came the inevitable funerals, ten, among others Annie Botha. Oh, the sorrow of it! the sorrow of it! Nothing is more regular than that dreary procession every afternoon at four o'clock.
Several in blankets; "Ik ben verstomd, ik deed mynen mond niet open, want gij hebt het gedaan" (I was dumb, I opened not my mouth because thou didst it).
Met old Tollie's[24] brother; rejoiced.
Found sick orphan girl I visited first day; much better.
Nice dinner; nice supper; "vet schaapie en vet ou bokkie" (fat lamb, fat little goat), which we bought.
Wonder what I would have done were the Van As's not here; so happy with them; everyone always so cheerful[25].
At tea called to pray with dying little girl; went immediately, and found tent full of weeping and wailing women; the little girl was in death's throes; short prayer, and when I finished her spirit had fled; mother frantic; hard, very hard to know how best to comfort. A woman is a wonderful network of cross-wires, and when these wires get unstrung or entangled, the result is most distressing. In presence of such, one feels hopelessly lost, and all one can do is to--walk away. And yet, for downright, dogged perseverance--for silent, struggling endurance--for quiet, patient suffering--commend me to a woman. What would become of Man without the Woman!
* * * * *
Saturday, August 31.--Glum; just returned from dying boy, Herklaas; young, strong; father Ceylon; visited him yesterday; said he did not want to die because his father was away, and he had to care for the mother. Touched late last night, and found him very bad; went down again with doctor[26]; this morning he was better, but this afternoon worse, and now (10 p.m.) I find him dying. I am very, very down-hearted to-night, and am tempted to think that, after all, God--No! I won't write it, because I believe this is a temptation of Satan! But oh! we did pray so fervently that God should spare his life; he is still so young and so strong. Found some more inquisitive onlookers. Some folks will put themselves to endless inconvenience to be able to witness a deathbed. They revel in it. I am vexed in my soul, and feel as though I could knock down everyone of them.
Funerals twice to-day.
This morning I buried seven; "Het wordt snellijk afgesneden" (For it is soon cut off).
This afternoon Mr. Becker buried six.
There were twenty corpses in morgue tents this morning.
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:
[Footnote 1: Mr. Van As and Mr. Fourie laid out the floor for my tent, and encircled it with a 9-inch wall.]
[Footnote 2: Each tent was numbered.]
[Footnote 3: Not real church elders; each, however, had a block of tents under his care.]
[Footnote 4: Stream between Camp and village; it only had running water, though, after rain.]
[Footnote 5: Mr. Van As's eldest daughter.]
[Footnote 6: Sannie Otto was the bosom friend of Sarah van As. Sarah has since died.]
[Footnote 7: My father was for many years minister at Colesberg, and my uncle again at Fauresmith.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 9: Pieter de Lint, an old College friend.]
[Footnote 10: Our Hymnary is divided into Psalms and Evangelical hymns (Psalmen en Gezangen).]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 13: Van Huysteens. The mother was shot while they were fleeing before the English. There was a babe of five months.]
[Footnote 14: As a pigeon feeds its young.]
[Footnote 15: Where I have often camped out.]
[Footnote 16: College chum.]
[Footnote 17: The twelfth was probably in hospital.]
[Footnote 18: When removing the dead from a certain section of the Camp, the bearers had to pass my tent.]
[Footnote 19: She was a probationer.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 21: This number soon grew to 800.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 23: A ration of coal was sometimes served out.]
[Footnote 24: Another old College chum.]
[Footnote 25: The Van As's received my ration (which was same as theirs), and I took all my meals with them.]
[Footnote 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 assurance that a Good and Merciful God 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 circumstances. 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 God 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.
Visited 239, Ignatius, with malignant growth on arm; must soon die.
Took doctor to see 36; young girl suddenly sick; great misery there; bad ventilation; four others measles.
Funerals this afternoon (about nine); "Hetgeen gij zaait wordt niet levend tenzij dat het gestorven is" (That which thou sowest is not quickened except it die).
Visited hospital to-day, and mean to go regularly each day.
* * * * *
Tuesday, September 3.--Went to Superintendent first thing to-day; reasonable[29]; long talk; reconciled; thank God.
Found boy in 34 very, very bad; this afternoon stopped bearers on way to morgue tents, and learnt that they were carrying him away; poor little fellow; he suffered so very much!
In 35 there is also great sickness.
27; Mrs. Taljaard; very sick baby; also sick boy; husband commando.
Hospital; read and prayed in the three wards; glad I went; some very seriously ill; so sorry to hear that Miss Hendriks died this morning; she was very bad; spoke to her yesterday, and prayed with her; she enquired restlessly, time after time, "Is dit nog nie vijf uur nie?" (Is it not yet five o'clock?). At five this morning she passed away.
The men's ward quite full; all ages; all were so glad to have me read and pray.
541; Mrs. Steyn; two children gone; very sore; glad I went.
500; Mrs. Schoeman; eight children; two sick; husband Ceylon.
503; Mrs. Robertson; baby dead; two boys sick; husband fighting.
In 418 great misery; Mrs. Herbst ill and three sick children.
In 322 called in to pray for dying baby.
Very busy afternoon; always stopped on way and called in.
Neglected 475.
The poor little mites! the horrid, cruel pneumonia! and there seems to be no saving them when once the pneumonia, grips them.
Mr. Becker took funerals, seventeen; several in blankets.
And so we go forth day by day; the dread whistle; the regular tramp of the bearers to morgue tents, and the slowly winding procession every afternoon.
Called hurriedly to hospital twice; dying girl just brought in; could understand.
Hysterical girl Martie[30], swearing and cursing all round; each nurse in particular, and the whole lot generally.
Old Mrs. Van Zyl, 492, evidently dying.
Called to enquire after old Mrs. Oosthuizen; found she had died soon after last visit.
Pleasant evening; stories of my travels; in Italy once more.
* * * * *
Wednesday, September 4.--My visits to hospital I love.
That one girl such a sad case; fever and most terrible headache; they say it is sunstroke.
Hysterical girl quiet.
Filth and stench in some tents almost unbearable.
Nos. 34 and 35 very bad; ventilated tent myself; some folks built that way, and sickness becomes their trench behind which they shelter. But I will persist in maintaining that no matter the sickness, no matter the distress and poverty, cleanliness is a possibility anywhere[31]. But what an opportunity for the careless to degenerate!
Managed to get bedstead for Mrs. Van Zyl; fear she won't last long.
I wonder what the safest policy would be when two women pour out their griefs into your ear at the same time. When they simultaneously tell you all about their departed cherubs? Some people selfish in their sorrow. Took little camphor brandy Mrs. Niemand's; tent full lamenting womenfolk; and the helpless babe casting her black eyes from one to another. Some people will insist on anticipating the Almighty (the child is dead, though).
Saw a child to-day the very image of a mouse; two months' illness; large ears; black eyes; thin, bony hands; huddled together.
Very busy afternoon.
Funerals at 4 p.m.; eighteen corpses; "En God zal alle tranen van hunne oogen afwisschen" (And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes).
How can one's heart remain hard? Can one be unmoved when you see weeping, stricken mothers kneeling in anguish beside their infants' graves?
Love, after all, is the greatest and most mysterious of all things.
Explain it that a mother can cling to a helpless, idiotic, deformed boy for fourteen years, and feed him mouth to mouth! Explain that a mother can sit up night and day, day and night, with a sick child! Look at those deep-set eyes, sorrow-sunken, their care-wornness, and tell me what is this Love that endureth all things!
Two things have I learnt during these fourteen days which till now to me were "all fancy"--the meaning of Love and the thing called Religion.
* * * * *
Thursday, September 5th.--Tent overhauled; floor rubbed and "smeered" (coated); very miserable, windy day; dust; dirt; towards evening cold south winds; fear it will work havoc with the children to-night.
Hospitals; so sorry about Miss Snyman; quite delirious to-day; wonder if she will live.
Hysterical one[32] quite tame; "Ach, minheer zijn hand is tog zoo koud; ik wens, minheer, wil die heele dag mij kop hou" ("Ah, sir, your hand is so very cold, I wish you would hold it to my head the whole day").
Found things cleaner at 35; still great misery.
Fear old Mrs. Van Zyl will die.
The De Wets (526) sad way; so many sick; one daughter dead; two children in hospital; this afternoon baby died.
Neglected to go to Mrs. Niemand--poor little mother!
De Lintz in great misery; gnashing teeth girlie[33] weaker.
Some people selfish in their sorrow; but I don't suppose a man can fathom the love a mother bears her child!
Near Church (!) great misery; sick mother (husband Bloemfontein) and four sick children; all helplessly ill; no one to help; and water has to be carried and wood fetched and chopped.
Milk supply has been stopped in Camp; this causes great distress.
What sorrows one is to find tent upon tent with sick children and no nourishing or invalid food; not even milk.
Wonder if there can be suffering greater than what some folk endure here.
Mr. Becker funerals; four, I believe, only (!).
Eight died since yesterday afternoon; may a change come speedily.
* * * * *
Friday, September 6.--Handicapped with a horrible cold, which won't go away; throat hoarse; unpleasant day, very; wind, dust.
Daily routine: Hospital; visits; dinner; visits; funerals; visits; supper; bed.
Nine buried this afternoon; "Heere gij zijt ons een Toevlucht van Geslacht tot Geslacht" (Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations); dreary business.
There have died during one month (August) about 230 people.
A new doctor has come, and now I hope things will grow brighter.
Miss Snyman in hospital little better.
Sad case this evening; found mother at bedside[34] of sick child; she has lost two already this week, and this one is the last; husband died Green Point. The sorrow of it! May God spare that child's life.
Hear from Mr. Becker that the old Tante[35] beyond the Camp, with sick mother and sick children, has broken down. What on earth will become of them?
Some here unconsciously overdo it, and overtax their own strength in their grim fights with Angel of Death. A sort of superhuman power sustains them for a time, and then--the collapse!
But there sings the kettle![36]
* * * * *
Saturday, September 7.--To-morrow is Sunday, and my sermons? O, the recklessness of it! I had determined to set aside this afternoon for preparation.
Morning very busy.
Mrs. Mentz' child dead.
Hospitals; hysterical girl very bad; fear she won't pull through; others betterish; except the fever one; very weak.
In men's ward, old Mr. Petersen dying; quite conscious; waiting on God; Ps. 23.
Another youth also very bad.
Arrangements upset; funerals this morning (seven); had to rush to overtake procession; Ps. 39, "Handbreed" (an hand-breadth).
Found I was burying Mrs. De Lint's infant and also "she of the gnashing teeth."
Sorrowing mothers; I always hurry away when the first sod falls with its horrible thud; it unstrings the chords of one's being, and the best thing is to depart.
Spent afternoon in; at five, went to few tents.
Old Tante yonder; the great collapse; very sorrowful; faithful unto death. Weeks of toil; untiring efforts with sick daughter and her three sick children; poor; helpless; no one to assist save little Billy, who herself is sick. And now--now the daughter is better, the three children on the way to recovery, and the faithful old grandmother? Nunc demittis. She has lain there like a log since yesterday without nourishment; took beef tea; kind neighbour brought broth; made her sit up, and she gulped down the food; will try and get her removed to hospital to-morrow.
Visited Mrs. Naude of yesterday; anguish; the last child died this morning; husband gone; three children gone; alone. Made fool of myself. O, the pity of it all!
Long visit from Doctor; desperate; at wit's end; and with a sermon hanging upon my mind.
* * * * *
Sunday, September 8.--Most awful day of wind and dust. May I never see such another.
Church (!); open air; clouds of dust; people just simply buried in dust; could scarcely read; whole service forty-five minutes.
During sermon compelled to turn round and shut eyes; saw on opening them that my black hat had changed to my brown one.
Met wailing women on return; Mrs. Lubbe; news of husband's death; shot in war; frantic; visited this evening; hopeless. What could I do? frantic despair; cruel anguish unconsolable. Grief makes one unreasonable. I think one should fight against grief and not collapse so readily; and yet--and yet!
Funerals five; old Mr. Petersen; large crowd; availed myself of opportunity; "Alleen wiens namen opgeschreven zijn in het Boek des Levens des Lams" (But they which are written in the Lamb's Book of Life).
May God not let His word return to Him void; read also Psalm 25, which I read to old Mr. Petersen just before he died.
Accompanied Mrs. Mentz to see husband in hospital; youngest child dead; father knows not; in fear and trembling lest she should tell. He gave her half an orange to give the little girl (buried already); I must tell him of child's death to-morrow; bitter task.
Disappointed about hospital; could not go through thoroughly; some there who won't pull through, I'm afraid.
On way home from funerals called in to pray for dying children; found I was too late at the first tent; much grief and wailing; second tent; baby dying.
Neglected to go to old mother beyond; wonder if!
This evening two girls came to ask for candle; great misery no light; gave half a candle; visited this evening Van der Walt; sorrowful; three children ill; saw my candle burning. What if I had not been able to give! Other sick children; sent brandy and Benger's food.
Mr. Becker service afternoon; same old dust.
Heard there were some of the Ladies' Commission present; good! May God bless their work and give them His Spirit in their work. May they see all.
Nice singing at our Church this evening; Miss Dussels; new doctor sick; "ipperkonders" gave him cocoa.
Weinanda dead; thank God! another burden of suffering ended.
Woman I prayed with in hospital this afternoon, dead this evening.
Girlie (35) Ackerman also dying.
Mrs. De Wet called me to her bedside (hospital), and asked me to pray that she might sleep. May God's angels guard over those hospital tents this night.
* * * * *
Monday, September 9.--Ladies' Commission; one of them, Dr. Jane Waterston. Glorious rain. How nice it will be to sleep with the soothing music of falling showers.
Our new kitchen getting on famously. What a comfort it will be when finished. It takes 800 bricks to build a kitchen here, and few there be that possess such a luxury. Spent half an hour in kitchen of hospital after visits; delighted with the sight of walls again; more determined than ever to go and do likewise. Am sure won't need more than 3,000 bricks to build a regular palace, and won't it be glorious! Besides, one does not know in the least, how long we are still to remain here, and even were it only a month longer it would be worth while.
Doctor gave up 71; went and found woman dead; child very sick; found Mr. Becker there.