Tuesday, October 1.--Village whole morning; barber (at last); came
back wiser and sadder man; can safely stow away comb and brush for a
month; two packets of candles by piece of luck. Grand dinner; roast
mutton, rice, mealies, and canned quinces. May I never forget that
dish of gravy!
Found goods from Champion had arrived; life again; pickles, jam,
"domel simmel" (golden syrup), cheese, and few pounds butter.
Supper sumptuous; good spirits.
Went through hospital wards.
Young Joubert (20) dying; visited him twice; quite ready; waiting to
be taken; found mother at bedside.
Old Mr. Plessis pleurisy; great agony; restless; fretful; fearful;
fear the worst; wonder if prepared to die?
Straight to convalescent tent; reproaches; "Ach, minheer, het min dan
ver ons vergeet?" (O, sir, have you then forgotten us?); Psalm 103.
Mrs. V.d.W. very, very bad; greatly comforted; beseeched me to come
again.
In old ward also; some very sick; Mrs. Griesel, Mrs. De W., Mrs.
Steyn, Engelbrecht--all very low.
Feel more and more to neglect hospital would be criminal.
Then still two other women's wards, where had to read and pray and
speak word all round; and finally the children's ward; girlie very
bad.
After rounds (seven wards) felt like king; happy; weary, yet withal
happy.
And our camp? Total neglect. But will I ever here roll me snugly in
my blankets with the satisfaction that all the sick and suffering
have been visited?
There have died up to September in our camp over 500. Appalling!
Only one buried this afternoon (Mr. Becker); died in hospital.
* * * * *
Thursday, October 3.--No diary yesterday; listless to-day also; hot;
oppressive days; one just longs for day to end. Towards evening
(sunset) usually nice and cool, and wind goes down.
What shall I write about? Diary becoming monotonous; too great a
sameness. Hospitals; visits; sick; dying; funerals; morose topic;
oppressive.
Boer khaki in camp to-day. Result of visit, about a dozen have joined
forces of the English. Wonder if a worm wouldn't have more
self-respect! Such characters make themselves despicable and
contemptible in eyes of the English themselves. To us it brings
deep-down humiliation. Can a man sink so low? Enough.
Two night ago some women and children cleared off--"for," said they,
"lest we starve here."
Can a man (let alone a woman--breathe not of a child) remain healthy
and strong on bread, meat (miserable half-pound), coffee, and
condensed milk? And so, when a sickness comes there is nothing to
fall back upon--no resistance. And with a wasted constitution who can
battle against fever, pneumonia, and other things?
And for those that grimly struggle through, there is nothing
wherewith to nourish and strengthen; no real milk; no eggs; wine; no
delicacies such as convalescents should be tempted with. About as
saddening sight as one can dream of is a peep into the children's
ward--poor wasted, withered little innocents!
Mr. Otto buried eight this afternoon.
* * * * *
Friday, October 4.--Let me have a clean blank page for to-night in
honour of my new home! Here I sit in glorious solitude, actually in a
room! Four walls, four naked walls, but walls withal--stare down upon
me with their muddy countenances, and I have an idea that they smile
upon me in affection--four muddy brown smiles!
And so my ideal has been realised; and I am proud possessor of a
house. Really word "house"[61] seems too inadequate, too
insignificant wherewith to name it.
(Later)--Short joy; rudely awakened to sorrows of life; mother just
gone by weeping bitterly; went out and took her home to her tent;
daughter dying in hospital; Ferreira (admitted yesterday, fever).
This morning still conscious when I spoke to her, and when we read
and prayed together. And now?
Have just returned hospital; father there; girl evidently dying;
fever 105; quite unconscious; strong, strapping girl of nineteen;
knelt by bed and prayed; nothing impossible with God; while there is
life there is hope.
Will postpone description of house till another occasion; under this
cloud one's ink gets cloggy and one's pen listless.
Spent morning in hospital, and after--little visiting.
Funerals, five children; "Laat de kinderen" (Suffer the little
children). Mother fainted at grave; great consternation.
Large laager troops close by.
* * * * *
Sunday, October 6.--No diary yesterday; spent morning at river[62];
hour's walk; small party, seven; persuaded Mr. Fourie to join; wife
betterish.
Forgot for the while there was such a thing as a camp, and in the
beauties, rugged and rude, of Nature able to enjoy life once more and
banish thoughts of sickness, hospitals, deaths, funerals, etc. The
grand old river!
Returned early with Mr. F. and did few hours' visiting.
To-day most busy and tiring day, as all Sundays are.
Service at ten and again at three.
Funerals at 5 p.m., four; after, prayer meeting.
Luckily (!) weather threatening, so announced there would be no
meeting to-night; thankful in my soul.
And now the gentle drops making music on my roof; really it is too
grand; one feels like living again to be in room where you can stand
upright all over.
Miss Ferreira died last night; buried this afternoon; "Zalig zijn de
dooden die in den Heere sterven" (Blessed are the dead which die in
the Lord); large crowd at cemetery.
But to think that so young and so strong a person should so suddenly
be called away; "Levende gaan zij de eeuwigheid binnen" (literally,
Living they enter eternity).
Miss Van Tonder very, very low in hospital; cannot bear thought of
her perhaps dying; it will be too, too sad; so young, so good, so
patient. God only knows!
Yesterday eight buried; mostly children.
Let me rather fill pipe; get into bed, and listen to soothing rain
without.
* * * * *
Tuesday, October 8.--Getting lazy with diary; effects of comforts of
house, no doubt. Just copied Dr. M.'s list of patients; total 150;
mostly in new camp; wonder how on earth am to find time to visit
these tents; and this is but one of the three doctors' lists! So
one's time is just made up with visits to sick, and for other work
there is no opportunity. One gets "daarom" (literally, therefore) a
bit hopeless with the amount of work. O for a few more to help!
Hospital runs away with whole morning; and positively cannot neglect
that work, and then come the funerals every other day.
Buried four children this afternoon; one girlie I often visited; "En
zij brachten kinderkens tot Jezus" (And they brought children to
Jesus).
One cannot help smiling sometimes in midst of death; the comic
element will crop up everywhere and the sublime verges on the
ridiculous. Old Mrs. Griesel, delirious, "Ach, minheer, en moet ik
nou sterve en dit zonder eers een glas karren melk to kry?" (O, sir,
and must I die now, and that without one glass of buttermilk?);
wonder, wonder how many will get well in that fatal ward. Give Miss
Van Tonder up, also Mrs. Steyn and Mrs. Griesel--but!
Four children struggling with Death just now; among these a tiny
little girl three years--the dearest, sweetest, little cherub
imaginable. It knocks one over completely to see mother kneeling
silently by bedside. There is pathetic element in the utter
helplessness of human love. How hard to witness suffering with a
breaking heart and to be--helpless!
Our new hospital matron arrived; let us hope for better things
now.[63]
Found old Englishman (Hockins) in hospital; chat and prayer in
English; my first in camp.
Big load of boards arrived this morning; now there will be coffin
material again for a short season.[64]
To-morrow afternoon is service, and nothing ready yet.
* * * * *
Thursday, October 10.--Sad and gloomy day.
Early visit hospital, and on entering fatal ward saw the two empty
places--Mrs. Griesel and Miss Van Tonder. O, the sorrow, the bitter
sorrow, of it! Went to morgue tents and saw her again in death who
had suffered so long and patiently these last few weeks. Rest after
weariness--sweet rest at last. But where, O where, are our prayers?
May God save me from sin of unbelief and doubt during these days!
"Nie pijn nie, Minheer L., maar net zoo gedaan" (No, no pain, Mr. L.,
but only so weary). Thus, when I asked her on my last visit if she
had any pain.
That tent too much for me now, and could not enter there to-day. God
forgive my neglect!
Three others (children) also dead hospital.
Went late last evening to tents in "infected area"; found three
children all very bad, and one boy struggling in Death's throes; poor
little chap; he is gone since, and we buried him this afternoon.
Thirteen coffins; so sad, so painfully sad. May I never forget the
weeping crowd around the open graves!
"En God zal alle tranen van hunne oogen afwisschen" (And God shall
wipe away all tears from their eyes); sang, "Voor eeuwig met den
Heere" (For ever with the Lord). And now, where are these dead? What
would I not give to have short minute's talk with that good young
girl! What would she tell me? We read together so often, prayed so
often, spoke about enternal things so often. And now! What now? How
good and wise of God to withhold from our knowledge some certain
things.
Our life here on earth must be one of Faith and Hope.
Feel so horribly low this evening.
Visits in camp, before hospital; again before funerals; also after
funerals; but making no headway; hundreds of sick all about, and
hundreds who can never be visited.
Great concern yesterday; officials want now to remove my tent[65],
and I positively cannot do without same; and with all this worry had
to prepare afternoon service; sudden inspiration and wonderful grace
to boot; "Komt herwaarts tot mij alien" (Come unto me all ye that
labour).
Service of great comfort to own heart.
Saw Superintendent this morning; inflexible; I am powerless because I
was given the roof.
One has to stoop greatly during these days.
It hurts, it humiliates, it chafes; and one needs extra grace.
* * * * *
Saturday Night, October 12.--Saw most distressing case yesterday;
Mrs. Herbst, 398; bare and empty tent; one bundle of things; one
small bundle wood; few cooking utensils, and on the floor a bed
(!)--couple bags as mattress and a few blankets. And there sat the
mother with hands clasped round her knee and a little girl beside
her; "En het jij dan nie ander goed nie?" (And have you no other
goods?) "Nee, Minheer, dit is al wat ik bezit; hulle het alles van
mij weggeneem" (No, sir, this is all I possess; they took everything
from me).
"En waar is die ander kindje?" (And where is the other little one?)
"Minheer, hij is gister begrave" (Sir, he was buried yesterday).
Alone and cast-away; no friends; poverty-stricken. Such sights enough
to make one's heart freeze within.
Called at hospital again before afternoon visits to find out tent
number of Nellie van Tonder's parents; no one could tell; so came
away determined to find tent all same; passed doctor; "Hullo, Padre,
forgot to tell you of very bad case 715; afraid you won't find child
alive though;" so hurried away to 715; and actually there found
myself in very tent I wanted to visit. But I was too late for the
child. Carried him away ten minutes before I came. Such is life!
"When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions."
Instead of having to comfort and cheer in their loss of loving
daughter, had to pray God for grace to bear a new and grievous burden
of grief.
(Later)--Just returned hospital; a little girl moaning most pitiably,
so I went to see what was matter; admitted this afternoon.
Inflammation of stomach; fearful pain; such a dear, sweet little
thing (can hear her moaning just now). Talked to her this afternoon,
and asked her if she knew Who had made her sick? "Ja, Oom" (Yes,
uncle). "Wie dan, my kind?" (Who then, my child?) "Khaki Oom" (khaki
uncle). Collapse on my part.
Six coffins this afternoon; "Heere, maak mij bekend mijne einde"
(Lord, make me to know mine end); great crowd; painful delay; one
grave too short; had to sing three long verses while it was being
lengthened.
Talk of day--Doctor got knocked down in camp this afternoon. Have not
seen him whole afternoon; offending party marched to gaol; wonder
what the issue will be!
* * * * *
Sunday, October 13.--Glorious eventide. What grander than to sit
still at perfect rest after burden of a long and heavy day! What a
day to look back upon! I tremble when I think of what I am compelled
out of sheer compulsion to venture. Service this morning; "Deze zijn
het die uit de groote verdrukking komen" (These are they which come
out of great tribulation). This afternoon, "Hoe zou ik u overgeven, O
Efraim? U overleveren, O Israel?" (How shall I give thee up, Ephraim.
How shall I deliver thee, Israel?)
"Scant and small the booty proved"--more's the pity!
When will I find time to prepare myself decently?
Anyhow, comfort myself with thought that if hearers knew (and no
doubt they do) how pressed I am for time, they will deal gently with
my scanty productions. For myself, whole subject very unsatisfactory
and unsatisfying.
Immediately after service; funerals; Mr. Becker unable; seven or
eight, all children; huge crowd; splendid opportunity; "Gij dwaas
hetgeen gij zaait wordt niet levend tenzij dat het gestorven is"
(Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die).
There is a Reaper whose name is Death,
Who with his sickle keen,
Cuts the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.
After funerals, girls' prayer meeting.
Last and best of all--Service of Song, evening. Now what on earth can
be more beautiful than our meeting this evening? Such a crowd, and
such singing! Ten minutes, John iii., 16. And now the day is over.
And the sick? And the hospital? All neglected; too pitiable to
contemplate. And Mrs. Grobelaar dying; when, two days ago, visited
her, said as I drew napkin from face, "Ach Minheer L., het min. dan
vir mij vergeet?" (O, Mr. L., have you then forgotten me?); she was
delirious most of day, but when I spoke to her she was quite
conscious. And how inwardly thankful when I prayed with her; poor
mother; her days on earth are numbered; both lungs gone.
Little babe, Van Huyssteen, also dead this morning (mother shot on
their flight by English; babe pined away out of sheer lack of
nourishment).
* * * * *
Wednesday, October 16.--Getting lazy with diary; mindful of old Mark
Twain.
Hear woman's voice calling "Ambulance! Ambulance! Ambulance! in 172
moet een meisje weggedra wordt" (Ambulance! in 172 a little girl has
to be removed). Here go the bearers!
172 is just thirty yards from 177, where I take meals, and next to
171 old Mrs. Van Straten, whom I regularly visit, and yet I know
absolutely nothing of this girl's sickness nor her death till this
very minute. Enough to make one discouraged.
Of Monday's work can't remember much except that I found the "summum"
of misery and distress in 678, Pelser's; whole family down measles;
poverty; filth; baby ill at breast (died yesterday, buried this
afternoon); sent food, but made her promise faithfully that children
would be washed to-day.
What horrible thing is dirt! Surely one of greatest gifts is to be
able to appreciate the "clean."
Funerals again Monday; "Zalig zijn de dooden die in den Heere
sterven" (Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord); so many children
again.
Visit old Mr. Du Toit on way home.
Now am I positively dead![66] "Mijnheer, min. moet mij tog een ding
beloove; om als de oorlog verbij is, die preek van min. te laat druk
enz enz, Om te doen gedenken" (Sir, you must promise me one thing, to
publish your sermon on 'To bring to remembrance' when the war is
over).
"Kan jij nou meer!"[67] Really now, after all there is nothing like a
good, long, square ear-to-ear grin in this world!
Shall I deny, though, that there is just a wee drop of cheer and
comfort, huge as the joke is!
Yesterday fellow who knocked down doctor returned; fined £5; and
since Saturday no one to do his lines[68].
Found 597 very bad; young girl (Kruger); wants to die.
245, Mrs. Du Preez; great pain; died last night, buried this
afternoon.
Two little children remain behind; saddening.
Buried six this afternoon; "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). Saw motherless boy and girl weeping at grave
(Mrs. Oliver, 107, 62, 50).
In 62 the thinnest, skeletonest babe ever seen. How old and withered
up these little mites become!
Asked Dr. M. visit 262, and try and get her admitted to hospital.
Next morning actually--I repeat actually[69]--I found her there. Am
wonderfully thankful; now the old grandmother can take her rest; poor
old soul; so faithful; so willing, and so gentle always. One can
understand better such sayings as "Faithful unto Death" when you
watch those around sickbeds here in camp.
Found in 167 young mother (babe); arm very bad; no friends; alone;
Mrs. Van Staden took mercy on her when she arrived ten days ago; all
relatives in Norval's Pont Camp. How could she get well here!
Got doctor yesterday to give her note to headquarters, and this
afternoon, after repeated visits, at length succeeded in getting her
off to Norval's Pont; poor little soul; may she now find rest for her
weary, fainting heart. (Feel rather satisfied with myself when I
think of her (Mrs. Van Wyk) and Mrs. Grobbelaar!)
Saw this afternoon most marvellous "en aandoenlijk" (touching) thing
in camp.
Mrs. Jacobs, 721; little daughter was shot through stomach on their
flight from English, some three weeks ago, and the child lay 'twixt
life and death for days; now she is quite well again; too wonderful
for words; "Minheer, kijk hier!" (Sir, look here), and the mother
unrolled a little flannel vest before my eyes. The front part had two
cruel, ugly holes, one an inch, other almost two in length; the whole
was as though dipped in blood. Let me be dumb--words would be wicked!
"Ja, minheer, die hempie zal ik bewaar als die grootste schat op
aarde, en aan mij kinders en kinds-kinders vermaak" (Yes, sir, this
little vest I shall cherish as the greatest treasure I have on earth,
and shall bequeath it to my children and children's children).
Splendid meeting this evening; hearty singing; Joh. iii., 16, last
Sunday; to-night "Een iegelijk" (Whosoever).
Service this afternoon; "De Heere is mijn herder" (The Lord is my
shepherd).
Glad to be able to go through hospital again.
Good news; quantity of things arrived this afternoon. At last!
* * * * *
Friday Night.--"Joy cometh in the morning," so it is written, and yet
it was grief and disappointment which came yesterday morning. One
case goods missing; and the very one which belongs to me personally.
After all these weeks of waiting--hard, hard luck! Never mind! Read
few days ago of remedy for "lowness of spirit," "neerslagtigheid"
(down-heartedness), "Think of the burdens of some individual you
know." Excellent! Now let me think of the sorrows of that unhappy
little mother, Mrs. Van Wyk, 167. When last wrote, she had left; but
yesterday morning she was sent back; papers not in order; and on
inquiries at office to-day was told point-blank (with a snub in the
bargain) that she could no more think of going. Such a life; had not
the heart to bear the news, for I heard she has been crying all
day--poor little castaway. Is there no pity? Feel like Kit Kennedy.
Would there were a bag of chaff somewhere near which I could pummel
soundly for half an hour, just to let off steam; just to pummel
something, seeing one cannot pummel somebody; it might ease the
strain.
Why, this innocent creature, with bandaged arm and suckling at
breast, she couldn't hurt a fly if she tried; and yet, and yet all
this worry, all this endless trouble and disappointment, just to get
her from here to her mother in Norval's Pont--and now? Let me not
think on it! She will eat her heart away in sorrow, and no doubt soon
will be at rest in a bit room six feet by three.
In hospital yesterday, found young girl (20), Henning's, dying;
enteric; so young; so strong; in flower of life; it seems too awful,
too contrary, "Levend zij den dood in" (Living they enter eternity);
and others again, little infants, will struggle and battle for life
for weeks and weeks, regular "Kannie doods" (Cannot dies, literally).
Great mystery!
Mother at bedside; told me she said she was going to Jesus; "Ma, jij
het nou ver mij twintig jaar ge had en nou wil die Heere vir mij he"
(Mother, you have had me twenty years, and now the Lord wants me);
quite unconscious when we prayed; poor mother, the helplessness,
utter helplessness of Love!
In other ward Mrs. Du Toit and Mrs. Grobbelaar very, very bad; saw
the worst, and prayed for them--and the end? End is this:--that this
afternoon we buried these three, and sang over open graves, "Ik
geloof een eeuw'ge leven" (I believe in life everlasting), "Ik ga
heen om u plaats te bereiden" (I go to prepare a place for you).
I often marvel that never yet been at loss for suitable text to talk
about at graves. In beginning I used to have half-hour's quiet
before funerals to meditate; now my meditation comes off as we slowly
wind to the sacred acre; and yet there has always been "sufficient"
and "according to the need."
Visited old Mrs. Dussels, mother of Mrs. Grobelaar--"zoo tevreden,
zoo stil, zoo olijmoedig, door God's genade" (So content, so quiet,
so glad, through God's grace).
Village to-day; jam; autoharp tuned; roses; treat for supper;
"rooster koek (scones) and grape jam.
After supper called to sick old man; old Mr. Hennings very, very
weak; words of cheer; prayer; wonder if I shall ever see him alive
again; don't think it; tent 8.
N.B.--So all my brag of last day "nul en van geene waarde" (null and
void).
Mrs. Grobelaar, dead and buried.