Maggie Jooste

Maggie: My Life in the Camp


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can still remember the verses and the tune.

      The Ice Maiden then appeared between snow-covered rocks, with her long, light hair and her retinue all in white. The prince and the other prisoners, still bound up, were brought in, and when they were released, the two of us embraced.

      The last act took place in the palace with the wedding of the prince and princess and their coronation. James was an attendant and carried in my golden crown on a silver cushion. Then the people sang:

      Hail, Royal Pair, now in wedlock bound.

      May with your steps go great good luck

      And many more the coming round.

      Miss Van Niekerk later made a blouse for herself from the material of my train.

      For the same concert I had prepared a long piece for recitation. This was “Elisa’s Flight” from Uncle Tom’s Cabin.1 While I recited, the history of the slaves was shown in tableaux.

      *

      We were a very happy family in our big, well-built house. Mother had a young white girl in the house to help her. I can well remember the furniture and the big, soft carpet in the sitting room. The long, cream-coloured side curtains on the tall windows hung to the floor, and their sides were drawn up with elegant sashes with long tassels. On the harmonium stood pretty porcelain ornaments, and there were also objects decorated with gold on a round table.

      Father had a flourishing wagon-making business. This was the time of coaches and carriages, landaus,2 spiders,3 carts, ploughs and farming implements, all of which required maintenance and repairs. The wheels especially had to be banded with iron, and the many horses had to be shod. Father was a first-class farrier and so had an excellent income and he could provide his family and big household with everything they needed.

      Mother had a lovely soft nature. She gave much of her time to church work and was for us children a true model of piety, virtue and self-sacrificing love. She had 12 children to look after but still attended, and led, all the prayer meetings of the women’s associations. She was strong and healthy, and with great zeal and vigour she helped at the bazaars, led prayer meetings and taught at Sunday School. Later I heard that she had been a Sunday School teacher for 21 years.

      She was exceptionally skilled at needlework, and made all our clothes herself, even suits for the menfolk. And so she taught her three daughters as they grew up to cook, bake, carry out the housework and, in addition, do all their needlework. Today, at 76, I still do a lot of sewing. I am the last surviving daughter out of seven. Of my five brothers, only Cornelis, James and Eddie are still with us as I write.

      So we lived in peace and happiness until that unforgettable September of 1899.

      PART II

      23 June 1900 – our nightmare begins

      Chapter 1

      The war arrives on our doorstep

      This is not a history of the Anglo-Boer War. So much has already been written about that tragedy and I was then too young to realise how serious it all was. Now after 62 years I cannot tell the story in its proper sequence, so I must write as I remember.

      With the outbreak of the war on 11 October 1899 all burgers of the Transvaal were called up. Heidelberg was on the main railway line to Natal and so our commando left for there to stop the enemy from invading our country. Everybody thought that the war would soon be over and no one dreamt that it would last for nearly three years until May 1902.

      I can vaguely remember that now and then some of our men came home for various reasons and later returned to the front. Cornelis was at this time working in Pretoria as a telegraphist attached to President Kruger’s staff. Gert was under age for conscription but he nevertheless joined up with the Heidelberg Commando on 6 February 1900. There was no one more eager to fight than he.

      He and many of the young men of Heidelberg were under the command of General Piet Cronjé. When a few weeks later, on 21 February, Cronjé surrendered to the English, we didn’t know whether Gert was among the 4 0004 fighting Boers who were taken prisoner. It was a fearful time for our poor mother – Father was in constant danger, Cornelis was busy with responsible war-work, and Gert, her favourite child, was a prisoner. She couldn’t find out whether he was maybe wounded or perhaps already killed, as no news came through. And, moreover, at this time she was expecting her eleventh child. The baby, a girl, was born on 6 March. Father took leave of absence to come home and arrived in time for her christening. She was named Gertina Hendrieka after her brother as we did not know whether Gert had survived the fighting. Later a telegram was received at Heidelberg, saying: “We are prisoners of war.” This was followed by a list of names among which was that of Gert Jooste. So his life had been spared and we received the news with much thankfulness.

      Later the prisoners were sent to St Helena5 and held there. He was now far away but at least he spent the rest of the war years without having to face the kind of troubles and disasters that struck our parents and us children. On St Helena, they lived in tents, and were at least sheltered, clothed and fed (however plainly) and could also receive some schooling.

      Gert returned to South Africa only on 14 September 1902, some months after the conclusion of peace, landing in Durban. He then made his way to the Howick camp where we were being held. What a joy it was for us to be together once more. Only Father was still being held on the island of Bermuda6 where he had been sent as a prisoner of war. We were not allowed to return to Heidelberg as Father would not accept that we had lost the struggle.7 He arrived in Heidelberg on 1 October and we could only leave Howick for home on the 26th of the month.

      *

      The enemy pressed ever deeper into the Orange Free State from the Cape Colony and also from the Natal side. Then the dreadful day of 23 June 1900 dawned for us.

      Throughout the previous nine months we had stayed by ourselves in the house without any form of income. There was also no one to help Mother. She was all alone with us six children – me (then 14), James, Robert, Dolly, Hettie and Gerrie. We didn’t go to school and there were no servants, and so we all had to do our best to help Mother.

      In the meantime, heavy fighting took place in Natal and the Free State. We constantly received news of burgers from our town who had been wounded or killed in battle.

      Cornelis was still attached to President Kruger’s staff as a telegraphist until just before the enemy broke through to Heidelberg. When Pretoria fell, he went with the president to Machadodorp (in present-day Mpumalanga). Before President Kruger left for Europe, Cornelis and perhaps some other officers as well were given a large sum of money which had to be paid out to the officers in the field.

      As a telegraphist, Cornelis had to operate a heliograph8 during the war. He was then 18 years of age. Like a spy, he had to search out high-lying places from where he could observe the enemy. Then he would flash his signals to the commandos to indicate in which direction the Boers should move. In those arduous years in the veld we could share with our men only in thought, and be with them in spirit, for we never had a single word from them.

      I remember well the morning of 23 June 1900 when we heard the cannons firing near the town. Lord Methuen, with an overwhelming force of ten thousand men, was camped at Nigel, only a short distance away, and had threatened to bombard Heidelberg if we did not surrender. The previous night had been spent by the women in preparing whatever food was available for the men who were setting out to face the enemy. We accompanied Father and Cornelis and other brave soldiers a good distance along the road out of town. Then came the moment for parting, and little did we know that we would not see each other again for more than two years.

      Then we saw the Khakis9 like a tawny-coloured stream flowing past our home en route to the house of Mr FDJ Wepenaar, the magistrate. He and a number of burgers had chosen to betray their country rather than resist and to lay down their