A woman's wanderings and trials during the Anglo-Boer War

by Jacoba Elizabeth De la Rey

Now we waited to hear in what direction they were moving. The following day it began to rain very hard. I had no wood to make a fire. We were standing there on a barren rise, looking out to see which way we should have to go, and here and there I saw an ant-heap burning. I said to the boy,[5] “Set one on fire for us, and put on the ‘kastrol’[6] and let us try to get something ready to eat.” I had a large green sailcloth, and out of this I made a screen, so that there was lots of room to keep dry in, and very soon I had plenty of company round me. That helped to make the time pass, but as for eating or drinking, we could do neither. It took a very long time before the ant-hill began to burn. I thought, “If only the ‘khakis’ would wait till our food could be cooked!” We got on so slowly with the ant-hill, the “pap” would not boil. Simson was doing all he could to make the fire burn up—we were all very hungry. At last there was some good soup ready, and we had friends with us to help us eat it, so that we began to enjoy ourselves. We had just finished when there came the order, “inspan.” Very quickly we got ready, and away we went once more. That evening we had to drive on till very late. It grew so dark that we could scarcely see anything, and yet we could not make a halt. My boy asked what he should do, as he could not tell whether he were on the right path or not. My oxen toiled on slowly, and I said that we had better stick to the path and go on. We could not outspan, as I had no idea where we were, and we did not even know now if we were still on the path that the people in the waggons had taken. On we went, and at last, late in the night, came to the waggons. All was silent; everyone was fast asleep. I had nothing that I could give the children to eat; and the first thing I wanted to do was to milk the cows. We waited a little, but no cows came up. We had gone one way and they the other; we could not get to them that night. I told the boy to take an ox-yoke and chop it up for firewood, so as to be able to get some water boiled and make tea. After we had had tea I went to sleep. The Kaffirs started out very early in the morning to look for the cows. The boy had been very good; he had looked after them the whole night, and he now came up to us with all the animals. The calves were close to the waggons, and the Kaffirs set to work at once to milk the cows. How glad the children were to be able to come to the pailful of milk!

[5] A Kaffir, Simson.

[6] Kastrol, from the French casserole = pot or deep pan.

It was a finer day; it had left off raining. We were now in the neighbourhood of Schweizer-Renecke.

Then came General De la Rey to my waggons with the news that all the Generals were to go the following week to Klerksdorp. I had a great many people with me just then—General De Wet and many others.

On Monday, after we had spent a peaceful Sunday all together, the Generals started for Klerksdorp. I went to a place not very far from Schweizer-Renecke, for the troops were stationed in great force at Rooiwal, and were also scattered about at many other places.

Here were a great many “treks” of women and children, who were also very much afraid of the troops. Our commandoes were not very far away, so that I could easily hear if the “khakis” were coming. I thought that if only they would let me stay quietly till the Generals had left them I should be happy. But we kept on hearing of more and more troops advancing. I said, “How can that be? I thought that while the Generals were with them there would be peace for the time.” But no; it grew worse. I had a great many people and cattle with me, so that we kept ourselves well informed as to what the “khakis” were doing.

We hardly knew now where next to go: the blockhouses were hemming us in on every side—we had to be on the watch the whole time. Suddenly we saw some horsemen come dashing on, and they called out to us, “Here are the ‘khakis.’”

It was a dreadful commotion. Everyone was saddling and harnessing. My oxen were not there, and I had no man with me to help. There were many people, but they had to see to their own safety. “Ah!” I thought, “if only my oxen would come!”

I did not want to be taken prisoner now after having escaped so many times, especially when we were, perhaps, nearly at the end of the terrible war. If only I could get off this time!