Got bedstead for 631; three little children dangerously ill; and all
three "deurgele" (bedsores); "Mammie, mammie, mij boutjes is zoo
zeer" ("Mother, mother, my legs are so sore").
The misery there is heartrending; hard ground; cold and wet as well.
Poor little mites; and nourishment?
Second visit. Found mother down too; terrible pain. What will happen
now, I wonder!
Called in to 620; old Mrs. Roux; sick; prayer; asked me to come
again.
Wish I could press a button and summon papa to do the praying part
for me!
Number of deaths so far (according to Mr. Becker's funeral lists)
about 420.
Since I've been here (25 days), we have buried about 300. Appalling
figures!
This afternoon (Mr. Becker), funerals eight.
* * * * *
Monday, September 16.--Flood.
Our Camp one sheet of water and mud; furrow too small for the rush of
water; great inundations; many tents flooded; great misery; and how
about the cooking business? Everything to be done outside (we are
among the few privileged with a kitchen). Women have to wade through
water and mud; wet wood; raining continually. Just picture the scene!
Came to one tent; in front of door one mass clay and mud; inside
awful; and yet there lay a girl very dangerously sick, and another
also down.
425, Mrs. Booysen; skeleton; completely flooded; everything wet; and
the floor! Yesterday they got her a bedstead; till now she had to lie
on the floor; sick daughter; wonder where she will sleep. Floor?
Impossible.
In another tent rain leaked through; water all over.
Another matter which tells of fresh misery. The sanitary sheds and
screens are all some distance out of the camp. Imagine the
painfulness of affairs on days like this, when one hardly dares put
head out of doors.
Overheard conversation between old man and doctor:
You, what do you want here? Go away from this ---- tent! Voetzak,
voetzak! Get away from this ---- tent!" This was to an old man. It
makes one's blood boil. There is no real--no, not a particle
of--sympathy.
In 631, wife told me doctor (another) came past, and she, meaning
that he was looking for her tent (third morning already and he had
not yet come), attempted to direct him. "You go to ----!" was all she
got; and she has three little ones in very precarious state.
Visited in New Camp; several sick there.
652, sick wife and child. (Nice biltongs[48] hanging up; but for all
my hints, got nothing!)
631, Kotze; doppers; two girls measles; prayer; repeated Psalm.
518, little child (mother dead two days ago) died this after noon.
Found another very sick girlie, 532, Venter; took orange wine,
arrowroot, milk; but I doubt whether she'll "make it"; too far gone.
Talk with Mrs. Steyn, who has lost three children; such a good little
woman; while there an old Tante came, evidently to tell all her tale
of woe, so I cleared.
Funerals ten, all children.
Meant to have spoken on "Heere, maak mij bekend mijne einde" (Lord,
make me to know mine end), but on discovery at graveyard that all
were children, spoke on "The Reaper and the Flowers."
Miss Snyman in hospital, moaning awfully just now; just been there;
poor girl; and she disturbs all the others.
Spruit nicely down; Mr. Becker not come; can't get across evidently.
Visits to hospital. In women's ward "beterschap"; little Betty and
Miss Taljaard much better; wonder if!
Read to them about Jairus' daughter; but the other Betty "wasn't
there no more" to hear.
Pancakes; five easily.
* * * * *
Tuesday, September 17.--Fine, glorious day; people all busy airing
and drying things; life again.
69, old Mr. Theunissen, very weak; old man; old wife; floor. Hard
luck; "Ach, Minheer, ik het zoo gewens dat mij zoon mij ooge moet toe
druk, en nou is hij in Ceylon, en ik voel dat ik nie langmeer hier
zal wees nie" ("O sir, I did so wish that my son should close my
eyes, and now he is in Ceylon, and I feel that I won't be here much
longer").
Saw Mr. Mentz being led home to tent (from hospital) by Mr. Booysen;
anxiety; knows nothing about daughter's death, and his wife lies ill
in bed. What's to be done? Mr. Mentz (one month in hospital) still
very weak. Brought him to the Van As's for some tea while I planned
how best to act. Decide to break news to him just before he arrives
at tent; very painful task indeed. Caught the two up just before tent
door, and told him to stop a minute. Now God help me and him!--Thank
God, it is over! Rude, cruel awakening! O the sorrow, the sorrow of
it! Prayed with family, and left with heavy, leaden heart.
Why is there so much sorrow and bitterness in this life?
Last week, when his wife visited him in hospital, he gave her half an
orange to give his Nellie, and on another occasion a biscuit--and all
the while his girlie was under the cold, dark sod.
Visited Van den Heever, 68. Also 626, 631, 624, 70, 74.
Went with trembling heart to 532; "Waar is die kind?" ("Where is the
child?"). "Nee, Minheer, zij is vannach om een uur dood" ("Sir, she
died last night at one o'clock").
Found the Van Zyls, 499, and the Robertsons, 503, had also lost
babies during last few days.
424, Hasebroek; sick child; baby died yesterday.
482, Hetts; little daughter very sick; wonder if! Such a sweet little
thing.
Getting sick to death of doctor; such a terrible amount of brag and
big talk, always about himself; always dread his calls; can never get
so far as to return; a regular thorn in the flesh.
Visits to hospital.
Mr. Van der Merwe still very bad; men's ward full of boys; some very
bad.
Martie Snyman recognised me to-day, and asked me to pray for her;
mother there too.
Mr. Becker funerals; six.
* * * * *
Wednesday, September 18.--Bitterly cold night; frost; glorious day.
Regular holiday; did precious little "leeraarts" (pastoral) work
to-day; grand clean up; fine bookcase of big box; grand!
Baby[49] comes regularly now to clean up.
Tent very close to-day; hot weather; contemplating building house;
busy with estimates to-day; will need about 3,500 bricks; such
edifice will be real boon when hot weather sets in.
Our kitchen is palatial, and the admiration of the whole camp, and I
guess hundreds have cast envious eyes upon it. And yet within it is
but 4 feet by 7 feet, its height is 5 feet 10 inches; but it has a
pitch roof, with coffee tins beaten out to serve for zinc. It is
built of good, raw brick, and the walls are 4 inches thick, plus two
more inches of substantial clay plaster. It has a window without
panes, and a doorless doorway, and yet a marvellous structure both in
workmanship and usefulness. Total cost about £3. Let me not forget
its chimney--made of a half-sheet of zinc, and beaten into a cone
(1s.). Now with my mind's eye I see the structure sparkling in the
gentle moonbeams. A thing of beauty is a joy for ever. Enough!
Rigged up church again; little nearer in, and this afternoon three of
us went and put everything geometrically straight--poles, pegs,
ropes, etc.--to prevent second collapse. We are going to sink heavy
stones into the ground as anchors, and the whole structure we are
going to make rigid with wire ropes. This all to be done on the
morrow. It is going to serve as school; good!
There must be some two thousand children here, and yet I doubt if
fifty go to school; pity; children run loose, absolutely neglected.
Too much sickness about; fear the deterioration.
Funerals this afternoon five; all children; "Heere, maak mij bekend
mijne einde" (Lord, make me to know mine end). May those graveside
addresses bear fruit!
Called to 104, Hugo's; great sorrow; baby died this morning; poor
mother; talk about tears rolling down! Let me not think on it!
179, Roelvert's baby; convulsions after measles; also dying.
A mother's heart: the most delicate, mysterious, profound piece of
architecture in creation. Let a man not attempt to fathom its depths;
there are mazes which he can never pass through; and there are
recesses (illuminated, I guess) which he can just barely know of, let
alone enter.
* * * * *
Thursday, September 19.--Two women cleared last night; burghers
evidently in near neighbourhood. There are always numbers of women
who go to hills to collect wood, and for long, weary distances they
carry their loads of oven wood, like so many Kaffir girls. It hurts
to watch them return.
Camp continually getting bigger; there must be some 800 tents now,
and quite 5,000 souls.
Feel bad at thought of so many thousands whom it is impossible to
reach just now, because of the sickness all about.
I have been here just a month, and have, during that time, done
nothing but visit sick and dying.
Hospital, too, grown larger; five big marquee tents; began visit
there this morning; disturbed by arriving patients and doctor.
Found Martie Snyman dying; dead a quarter of an hour after. We
gathered round her bedside and committed her spirit into God's safe
keeping; poor child! she had such a time of suffering; mostly always
delirious; and her mother! Let me not think of it!
Many new arrivals in women's wards; some dangerously ill.