Yankee Girls in Zulu Land

by Louise Vescelius Sheldon

From here our heavy baggage was sent on by ox-wagon, as sixty pounds is allowed to each passenger on the coach, all over that amount costing thirty-five cents a pound.

The next morning at five o’clock the coach which was to carry us to the fields drew up to the door of the hotel. It proved to be one of the original coaches which had been used to cross our American Continent, and had been pushed by the iron horse from our Western prairies and imported by the enterprising Cobb and Co, well known both there and in Australia. It was found to be admirably adapted for the rough South African roads.

Eight handsome horses were inspanned, and two Malay drivers, one to handle the long whip, were seated on the box; our luggage was fastened on behind with reins. When the fifteen passengers, including ourselves, were seated, with a wild eldritch shriek from the driver, a yell from his assistant and a crack of his whip, which sounded like a rifle shot, the Kafir boy who held the leaders sprang aside, the eight horses leaped forward into the air, then tore away, plunging to this side and then the other, shaving the corner with the hind wheel which made the crazy old coach lurch like a ship in a gale, and broke into a wild gallop, soon leaving Beaufort West far behind.

For some time after leaving the town our way lay over a long level plain reaching on all sides far into the distance; the curtains were soon lowered to keep us from being stifled by the penetrating, choking, powdery sand.

The horses had started off as if fully determined to make Kimberley before nightfall, but had now settled down into a good swinging trot, jolting us from side to side, one moment banging our heads against the sides of the coach, the next throwing us violently against our neighbours, until attempts to get into a comfortable position were given up as hopeless. The journey up country was a gradual ascent, for the interior of South Africa is a succession of elevated plateaus, rising from the sea in terraces, marked by mountain chains, until the plateaus culminate in the vast plains of the Orange Free State and the Transvaal, which are some 6,000 feet above the sea. In climbing a steep hill the male passengers were often unceremoniously ordered out of the vehicle by the half-caste driver and compelled to walk to the summit.

Our experience of farmhouse meals, which were taken en route, was anything but agreeable, but it taught the lesson never to travel through such a country again, no matter how short the journey, without carrying a hamper, even if it cost a shilling a pound for extra luggage.

At one of these resting-places where we changed horses, we paid one dollar for a cup of coffee and a sour sandwich. At times there was absolutely nothing to eat; then again a palatable dinner would be ready, but on such dirty linen and served with gravy so full of flies that it was impossible to eat it.

None of the other passengers seemed to have learned the lesson of bringing hampers of food with them, although most of them had passed over the same road many times. With all the discomforts of travelling the people of Africa are great travellers, two or three hundred miles by coach or cart being considered no great journey.

Very little life or attempt at cultivation was to be seen on the road Occasionally we came across a herd of cattle grazing, and the sheep seemed to have learned to eat stones, so little of anything else was there for them to feed upon. The open country is universally designated by the Dutch word “Veldt” translatable as “open field,” which it is in the best or the worst sense of the term.

At seven in the evening we arrived at a farmhouse, completely tired out with the continual bumping and jolting we had been subjected to all day, and felt strongly tempted to remain there for the next coach to pass through, but finding we should have to remain a week, preferred to take the jolting to remaining seven long, hot days in that spot. At daybreak next morning the loud banging at the door, and the notes of the driver’s bugle outside, warned us that the coach was ready to start; it seemed that five minutes had not elapsed since we fell asleep, we were so tired.