natalia 34 (2004) complete

ii

THE NATAL SOCIETY OFFICE BEARERS

President S.N. Roberts Vice-Presidents T.B. Frost Professor A.M. Kaniki Trustees M.J.C. Daly J.M. Deane S.N. Roberts Secretary P.C.G McKenzie

COUNCIL Elected Members S.N. Roberts (Chairman) P. Croeser M.J.C. Daly J.M. Deane Mrs M. Msomi Ms N. Naidoo A.L. Singh Ms P.A. Stabbins Mrs S.S. Wallis

EDITORIAL COMMITTEE OF NATALIA Editor M.H. Steele Dr W.H. Bizley M.H. Comrie J.M. Deane T.B. Frost Professor W.R. Guest Professor A. Koopman Mrs S.P.M. Spencer Dr S. Vietzen

Natalia 34 (2004) Copyright © Natal Society Foundation 2010

NataliaJournal of The Natal Society

No. 34 (December 2004)

Published by Natal Society Foundation Trust P.O. Box 11093, Dorpspruit 3206, South Africa

SA ISSN 0085-3674

Cover PictureThe cover photograph complements two articles – the one on Durban and that about the trek ox. It was taken near ‘Darby’s Corner’ (W.H. Darby traded in the 1870s and early 1880s on the corner of West and Field Streets, where the ABC Shoe Shop was in later years).

The only building it has been possible to identify is the first store of Messrs Payne Bros (on Erf 17 Block D, more or less where the OK Bazaars was later built). It is the flat-facaded building beyond the second double-storeyed building visible west of Field Street.

iv

EditorialContinuity and DiscontinuityDoes a community’s sense of the past stretch back seamlessly over time or are there definite moments to which people can point as marking a distinct beginning or ending? Like its predecessors, this issue of The Natal Society’s journal seeks to chronicle important aspects of the life and development of the people of this province. Yet even as one says that, one is struck by the reality that what is today the province of KwaZulu-Natal was once a kingdom, then a Voortrekker republic, then a British colony and then a constituent province of first the Union and subsequently the Republic of South Africa. Even within this latter existence there is the huge distinction between what is now KwaZulu-Natal under a democratic constitutional dispensation and the racially divided entities which existed between 1961 and 1994 as Natal and KwaZulu. Each of these changes suggests a moment of discontinuity and then of re-creating a sense of connectiveness with the previous reality.

Sharon Dell’s article in this volume describes the essentially political and legalistic processes which have led to the formation of the new University of KwaZulu-Natal, complete with new management structure, symbols and regalia. Perhaps there are those who look at the fusion of the former Universities of Durban-Westville and Natal largely as a matter of fulfilling current political imperatives and do not see the powerful symbol-ism between uniting the former (Indian) university college on Salisbury island in Durban harbour with the (white) Howard College on the Durban Berea. The new UKZN goes a long way to re-establishing continuity in higher education between black, white and Indian communities in the province after the division and discontinuity that marked the apartheid years. The Indian community’s sense of these hurts and struggles is captured in Uma Dhupelia-Mestrie’s book which is also reviewed in this volume.

There are two other articles which relate particularly to changes over time insofar as they concern Durban, both the city and the harbour. Nigel Hughes’s Paintings of the Bay of Natal, reviewed in this issue, describes the changes from ‘pristine’ man-grove forest to economic powerhouse, while Adrian Koopman reminds us that names themselves are a valuable signpost to our sense of past. Durban is now a part of the eThekweni Metropolitan municipality, but both the English and the Zulu names are themselves just two of the vast variety of names given by the people who have lived in this cosmopolitan African city and seaport and who, by naming, capture their sense of belonging to a wider community.

The settler continuity prevailed in Natal from 1842 to 1994, and the articles on the trek ox and the development of the Allerton Laboratory as a centre of research in veterinary science both point to this sense of the province as an entity which required to be won back from nature before being launched on a path of economic development. Bill Bizley

v

evokes the slow pace, the dust, sweat and camaraderie of those who drove the trek oxen from the port to the interior with their precious cargoes. Brian Davies reminds us of the work of four dedicated men – two English, one German and one Swiss – in bringing the new veterinary science to bear on the unprecedented disaster of the rinderpest.

It is perhaps also worth commenting on the current discontinuity which still prevails in the province of KwaZulu-Natal. The year 1994 marked for many a radical break with the past, signifying a new beginning in which all could claim equal rights of citizenship without distinction of race or creed. This meant seeing the past as in many ways discon-nected from the present and the future, but the disparate urges both to recreate the past of the Zulu Kingdom and the need to accommodate a new democratic dispensation have not to date been resolved in a unifying provincial constitution. A political stalemate still exists and the provincial constitution will perhaps have to wait a few more years before it can become an expression of a common vision of what the people of this province see as their future. The symbolism of past and future also imbues the recently unveiled statue to Chief Albert Luthuli (as described by Moray Comrie in this volume) and sug-gests that just such a common vision may not be that far away.

Similarly, the Natal Society and this journal Natalia will be looking for a new relevance and new missions which connect them both to the past where white English speakers were politically and economically dominant in the province, and to the future where a black political majority creates a new sense of community within a multi-cultural polity governed by a Bill of Rights for all individuals. Institutions which were at home in the continuity of the past now have to explore new ways of re-connecting with the post-1994 reality. Jewel Koopman gives important pointers in this direction by describ-ing the location of book collections of the Natal Society in the University’s Alan Paton Centre and Struggle Archives. Such a combination of forces provides an institutional framework in which both the past and the present can be connected in a new and vibrant institution of scholarship dedicated to serving all the people of KwaZulu-Natal.

MARK STEELE

2 William Hursthouse’s Pietermaritzburg Journal

Natalia 34 (2004), S. Spencer pp. 2 – 16

William Hursthouse’s Pietermaritzburg Journal

1 November 1847 – 27 January 1848William Hursthouse (b. 8 May 1821, Wisbech, Cambridgeshire – d. 21 May 1849, Cape Town), was the son of Charles Hursthouse and Mary Jecks, and brother of Sarah, the wife of Dr William Stanger (1811–1854), Natal’s Surveyor-General. William and his sister Anne (1824–1900), left England in June 1845 to join the Stangers, who themselves had come to Natal only in March of that year. Stanger, previously in the Cape Roads Department, had secured the Natal post through application. Athough Natal had been proclaimed a British colony in May 1843, only in December 1845 was it annexed as a district of the Cape Colony, and a formal administration set up. Most of the senior officials, including the lieutenant-governor, arrived later in December. Natal became a colony in its own right in 1856.

With his education and connections Hursthouse obtained a government post. From about July 1846 he became the clerk responsible for the minutes of the Executive Council,

Dr Stanger’s sketch of his residence on Erf 2 Longmarket Street (presumably the house in the centre of the picture). Fort Napier is visible on the hill between the two dwellings.

Source: Lantern vol. XXIII(3) March 1974


3William Hursthouse’s Pietermaritzburg Journal

and in about March 1848 was appointed Chief Clerk in the Colonial Office. In July he was also given the post of Acting Clerk, and later Clerk to the newly-established Leg-islative Council. (This was not an elected body. Initially it consisted of the Secretary to Government, the Surveyor-General and the Public Prosecutor, and its brief was to draft ordinances and to ensure that the officer administering the Government was adhering to Her Majesty’s instructions.)

It is possible Hursthouse came to Natal because of ill-health. Twice in the letter he records short periods of illness. Reading between the lines, it would seem that he did not give himself time to recover fully, in order not to miss interesting expeditions. By February 1849 he was so unwell that he requested three months’ leave to visit Cape Town, and sailed three days later. He died of consumption in May.

Hursthouse was on the committee of the Natal Reading Society (until June 1846 known as the Pietermaritzburg Reading Room), the forerunner of the Natal Society, which was established in 1851. It appears that some time in 1847 Hursthouse became secretary, and was still in this position when he left Natal. At the 1849 AGM, held in September, tribute was paid to his contribution to the society – he had ‘been unwearied in his exertions for its welfare, and but for his zealous advocacy, it is possible that your Committee would have been induced, from the insufficient funds at their disposal, to resign their responsibilities and propose … the dissolution of the Society. Mr Hursthouse, however, always pointed to the cheering side; and the institution … still exists to lament the loss of one of its warmest and most efficient supporters’1.

The journal takes the form of a letter to his sister, and is obviously a synopsis of a fuller work. It has kindly been made available by Mr John Barrett of 11 Newgate Road, Southgate, London, a Stanger descendant. It is an important document because, as far as this editor knows, it is the earliest journal of daily life in Pietermaritzburg in existence. Many years later, however, two of Hursthouse’s friends, John Bird and J.W. Shepstone, left accounts of Pietermaritzburg in the second half of the 1840s.

From the letter one has an insight into the social life of Natal’s official élite. With the exception of the Dunns and the Ottos, all the Stanger/Hursthouse associates were either government servants or officers of the garrison. However, at this time, there were few English people in Pietermaritzburg of similar social standing. Only in 1849, with the commencement of organised emigration from the United Kingdom, did the situation change. It appears that even their dining habits differed from the general pattern, which was then for the main meal to be taken in the middle of the day. In William and Anne’s circle, ‘dinner’ was the evening meal, as opposed to ‘early dinner’, a rarely-taken mid-day repast. Also, ‘tea’ was normally an evening event, obviously much in favour at the time. Frequently William and Anne and friends were ‘taking tea’ at one another’s houses, often with games and/or music as entertainment.

Unfortunately there are few references to Hursthouse’s work – possibly because he thought his family would not find this part of his life interesting.

HURSTHOUSE LETTER 27 January, 1848PM Burg. January 27/Wed. ½ past 11 P.M. Late hours you will say to begin to write to you but I am so busy in the daytime. First, dear M[ary] I must thank you for your long Journal of August by V.V’s2 parcel. I got it last week by the ‘Rosebud’ – I must most strongly protest against any letters from me being sent out or read to others than the


family. They are not meant for general perusal nor are they fitted for it – This you will attend to – You complain of my not being minute enough – I should have feared, I was too much so – and now for my journal.November 2/47 – Wrote yesterday to H & M3 by ‘Gem’ – Showery – Afternoon with S[arah] and A[nne] went to the M[oodie]s4. Dr S[tanger] went down to the Bay5 – Minna6 took tea here – Music &c. for now the Dr is out we dine at 4 or as soon as I get home.3 Afternoon rode with the M[oodie]s and Mr Gibb7 – Evening took tea there.4 Showery – Minna and Mr G[ibb] at tea here.5 A[nne] rode with the M[oodie]s and Mr S[hepstone]8 to the Umgeni Water Falls9 – the little M[oodie]s spent the day here. They had a pleasant ride – Eveng A[nne] dined at the M[oodie]s’ I went to tea.6 Showery – Afternoon walked with A[nne], the M[oodie]s & Mr Harding10 – M[inna] took tea here.7 Sunday Morning with A[nne] to church – Afternoon walked with the M[oodie]s. Eveng Rain – Wesley S[hepstone]11 took tea here.8 A[nne] with S[arah] & the M[oodie]s called on Mrs Cloete12 & Mrs Otto13 – I took an early tea (before dinner – a common custom here) with Marquard14– Eveng Minna dined here – Dunbar15 came to tea with his flute so we had some pretty duets. He accompanied A[nne] on the piano with the Cornopean16 which I like very much.9 Rode before breakfast. Mrs Shepstone17, Miss Otto18, Minna, Dunbar & Donald M[oodie]19 dined here early – Afterwards we all walked to see Mr Shepstone’s new house20 next the Colonel’21 which is now building. We took tea in the garden – very pleasant after the intensely hot day.10 A great contrast from yesterday so nice & cool – with A[nne] and the M[oodie]s went to Col. Boys’ Garden – a very good one for this place – Eveng Minna and Dunbar here.11 – Fine. With A[nne] & Mr G[ibb] rode first to the Band & then on the Road to the Bay – pleasant day & pleasant ride – evening after dinner walked – bright moonlight.12 With A[nne] M[inna], Mr G[ibb] walked up to the Valley & home by old Retief’s garden22, & on our way home called on Mrs Shaw23. Took tea at the M[oodie]s’ & played our usual Rubber.13 Very hot – rode before breakfast. Dunbar’s birthday – We were to have gone to the M[oodie]s’ – a party – but heavy rain prevented us much to our disappointment.14 Sunday – Morng to Church – Mail by ‘Gem’ arrived – no letter for me – Dr S[tanger] came home from the Bay – Afternoon with A[nne] & Martha Lindley24 to chapel.17 Jane Dunn25, who came on Sunday with Mrs D[unn]26 came to stay here – I had not seen her since her father’s dreadful death – Rode flower-collecting with the M[oodie]s & got some beautiful things. With A[nne] and Jane took tea at the M[oodie]s’.18 Rode to the Band with A[nne] the M[oodie]s and Mr G[ibb]. Evening with A[nne] & Jane at the M[oodie]s’.19 Mrs Dunn came to stay some days here. Anne & Jane spent the day at the M[oodie]s’ – Went to tea – Mr G[ibb] – Wesley S[hepstone] there. Danced Quadrilles as A[nne] had


2123

13

22

79

26

3132

DR CHURCH

BE

RG

PIE

TER

MA

RIT

Z

CH

UR

CH

LON

GM

AR

KE

T

LOO

P

BU

RG

ER

WEST ST

CHAPEL ST

COMMERCIAL RD

PINE STREET

Erfs

1–5

Erfs

6–1

5E

rfs 1

6–25

Erfs

26–

35

MA

RK

ET

SQ

UA

RE

BE

RG

ST

erfs

PIE

TER

MA

RIT

Z S

T er

fs

CH

UR

CH

ST

erfs

LON

GM

AR

KE

T S

T er

fs

LOO

P S

T er

fs

BU

RG

ER

ST

erfs

A section of Pietermaritzburg illustrating the positions of the erfs mentioned in the Notes. Erf 79 Burger Street has also been indicated because it might have been where the Moodies were living at the time. They were certainly on this erf by the end of 1852,

and it was in their ownership for some years thereafter. (Adapted from Alexander Mair’s 1869 map of Pietermaritzburg)


lent them her piano for Dunbar’s party last week to which we could not go. Reading a very pretty book called ‘Laneton Parsonage’ by Miss Sewell.21 Sunday Morng to Church. Afternoon after chapel walked to the Mess Garden27 with our usual party – more or less of the M[oodie]s & Mr G[ibb]. Eveng Mr M[oodie]28 took tea here.22 Rode before breakfast. Very hot. Afternoon called on Dr Best29 who is now quartered here. Evening dined at the Shaws’. Anne & Jane Dunn spent the day here. Very hot. To day [sic] arrived Mr Robinson’s30 box (of whom we have heard nothing) I need not tell you with what pleasure we had in opening it. Its contents were eagerly examined. I am considered a most lucky man to get two such beautiful pictures. Really I never heard of such extacies [sic] as the sight of them caused & still cause to most people.23 Had a holiday & rode to Swartkops31 to Pretorius’ Waterfall32 with some of the M[oodies], Mr G[ibb] & Wesley S[hepstone]. Had a be(Anne & Jane)autiful [sic] ride through a lovely country – Mr M[oodie] came to meet us. Evening we dined at the M[oodie]s’ – Music then home very tired.24 With the M[oodie]s walked – Called on Mrs Roos33 a very nice Dutch woman to see her garden for Mrs M[oodie] and I take great garden huntings. Both of us were moved to envy at seeing a Canterbury Bell in flower – As usual got some slips &c. – Dined at the M[oodie]s’ – the Miss Cloetes34 dined there – Jane Dunn came to tea – Music – Played at draughts with Henry Cloete35 – Bright moonlight & had a pleasant walk home with them. Wrote to Father to go by the ‘Gem’.25 The Dunns left for Sea View taking Martha Lindley home36. We shall miss her very much – such a nice little girl & leaving Jane at her Aunt’s Mrs de Villiers37 – Evening took tea with Mr Hertzhog [sic]38.26 Attended Library Committee Meeting39 & ordered our first batch of Books – then walked with the Cloetes. Eveng dined at the M[oodie]s’ – Music & Whist.27 Rain more or less. In the middle of the night George M[oodie]40 alarmed his family by knocking them up. He had ridden in from Blue Krans41 with despatches from the Magistrate42 about the Boers & Zulus43– had lost his way, swam over rivers (deep and swollen with heavy rain) 7 times & got in as you may suppose half dead with fatigue – He is now in that part with Mr Bird learning to survey. All the Town in alarm. Afternoon called on the Shaws – none of the others went out.28 Sunday Morning & Aft to chapel or church which ever you may call it. Our only Minister at present is Wesleyan (Mr Richards)44 a very good active man – Now however a Bishop45 is come we shall of course get a chaplain – Jane Dunn came to stay here.29 Rode before breakfast & Afternoon rode again with A[nne] & the M[oodie]s.30 Rode early with Wesley. Rumour that Panda46 is coming down with the Boers & 60, 000 men. None of us of course believe it but the town is in a great uproar.Dec.1 Rode early with Wesley & again in the afternoon rode with large party of M[oodie]s – Mr Gibb, Wesley, Jane Dunn &c.Dec. 2 This morning a Party of Cape Mounted Rifles marched to Bushman’s River47 to protect the people more – afternoon went to Govt House48 where the Band played – A[nne] rode with the M[oodies]. Minna, George [and] Wesley S[hepstone] dined here.


Dec. 3 Rode early. Gardened & walked.Dec. 4 Gardened – then walked with the M[oodie]s.Dec. 5 Sunday Morning to church – afternoon walked – George, Minna & Mr G[ibb] came to tea.Dec. 6 Very hot (when I say hot I really mean so). Called on the C[loete]s – then we walked to the Mess Garden. With A[nne] & Jane at tea at the M[oodie]s’ – Mr G[ibb] & Henry Cloete there – played at draughts.Dec. 7 Very hot again – Bathed with the M[oodie]s, C[loete]s & Wesley.Dec 8 Cool – afternoon cold. Dr S[tanger] dined at Mess.Dec. 9 With the Cloetes and Miss Wests49 walked up the Camp Hill50 to hear the Band but to the young ladies’ disgust no Band came – Evg. I took tea at the M[oodie]s’ – Mr G[ibb] there – Jane Dunn left the Stangers’.Dec. 10 Very hot. Bathed. With A[nne] & Wesley S[hepstone] dined at the M[oodie]s’ early (5) which you will think late – Tremendous Rain. All of us went to Government House to a party. Most of us rode – S[arah] was not well enough to go – Very pleasant Night – As usual 3 Rooms open. We danced in the Dining Room. The Drawing Room for those to chose to stay in it & in the Library were refreshments – tea, coffee, punch &c. the whole evening & on the large round dining table eatables. So there was no actual supper, but people ate & drank all the evening. Plenty of Dancing, Singing & Laughter. Home as you may suppose late & up to our knees in mud.Dec.11 Showery – took a long walk with A[nne]. Minna & Mr G[ibb] who dined here afterwards.Dec. 12 Sunday Mail by ‘Flora’ arrived no letter for me but in V.Voorst’s parcel I got

House on the Longmarket Street frontage of Erfs 31 and 32 Loop Street facing the Market Square. It was rented by Lt-Governor Martin West who resided there from 1846 until his death (1849). This photograph was taken when it was the Prince of Wales Hotel (i.e. sometime between the mid-1860s to the late 1880s). At time of demolition it was John & Salter’s Bottle Store. Archbell Street and the government’s Natalia Building now encompass the site. Source: Barbara Buchanan’s Pioneer days in Natal (1934).


2 from you & Father. With Anne & the Dr to church – Mr Henry Piers51 (Ordnance) dined here early – Afternoon with A[nne] & Minna to church – then took long walk up the valley & home past the Camp52 & the Colonel’s53 with them & Mr G[ibb]. Eveng I took tea with him in his quarters which are distinct from the Barracks & are thus I think the best in the place – Rain at night the most alarming reports of attacks &c. still agitate the Town.Dec.13 Very poorly. Took cold last night in walking through the wet grass from Mr G[ibb]’s. Afternoon walked – Evening with A[nne] went to the Cloetes’54 – Nominally a children’s party. Their drawing room is the largest in the place – Quadrilles. All the young M[oodie]s – Miss Wests – Capt. Parish55, Lieuts. Coxon56, Burrell57 & Gibb – Mr Shiel58 and Wesley S[hepstone] made up the large party (the Cloetes are 12 in number) so altogether it was a large party – I felt too poorly to stay so came home quite early as Anne slept at the M[oodie]s’.Dec. 14 Went to Office but obliged to come home & go to bed.Dec.15–16–17 Still too poorly to go out – My 2 Doctors (Mensies [sic]59 & Stanger) were good enough to get me well on Saturday.18 when I rode out for a little.20 Well. Went to Office – Afternoon went to the hill behind the Camp where 1200 Kafirs* were dancing their war dance all in full war costume – composed of cow-skin, beads, ostrich feathers, red clay and assegais – It was a very wonderful sight – and would have amused you when you had once got over your fright. Everyone was there to see them – the S[tanger]s and Anne rode – When we came home with the S[tanger]s called on the Shaws – Mr Chiappini60 who came in the ‘Rosebud’ was there – he brought up Van Voorst’s Parcel with him with your long Journal & Father’s note. His grandfather was the last Doge of Venice.Dec. 21 Dull day. With a large party as usual made up with the C[loetes] the M[oodie]s & the Miss Wests took a long walk to Pistorius’s House61 just beyond the Town – Then we went up town to see 2 young lions which are going to Cape Town – very fine creatures – then borrowed from Miss C[loete] a beautiful book called ’The Old Man’s Home’ by Revd W. Adams – then home, dined & took tea at the M[oodie]s’. Anne dined there as did Mr Bird and Mr Gibb.22nd with Anne Minna & George M[oodie] called at Government House & at Major Cooper’s62 – Eveng with the Dr dined at Mess with Dr Mensies [sic] – A large party & one of the pleasantest I have been at there.Dec. 24 – Mr Field63 who is up from the Bay dined here early – Then went to Band – very dull & cold. Afterwards with Capt. Parish went to the Camp & through the stables for part of the 45th have lately been mounted – We are in great want of Cavalry here indeed of all Troops – then called on Dr Mensies [sic] then back to the Shaws & then home where S[arah] gave an evening party – the M[oodie]s – Shepstones64 – Wesley – Field – Jane Dunn – Mr Bird and Mr Gibb made the party – music in the Drawing Room – Whist in the Dining Room. Being Christmas Eve S[arah] gave us supper – Mince pies, Preserves – Candied Fruits & Cake & Wine – Walked home with them for nearly all went the same way – Home late to Bed.* This was the word used by Hursthouse – it was in general use at the time, and had no derogatory connotation.

It is of course unacceptable usage today.


Christmas Day Dull as usual. With A[nne] went to church – Afternoon the Dr and S[arah] rode. We walked with some of the M[oodie]s & G[ibb] & got wet through. Evening dined and soon after to bed.Dec. 26 – Sunday – Morng to church – Afternoon walked – Evg G[ibb] & Minna came to tea.31 Fine – With Anne rode pleasant day. Great preparations going on for the journey to Mr Allison’s65 Missionary Station tomorrow – Dined & went to bed before 12 & so ends my Journal for the year 1847, which seems to me to have passed dreadfully quickly.Saturday January 1 1848 – Up very early & had breakfast. Soon after S[arah], Alice, Harry Lilly & Talerta66 set off in the Wagon – I rode with them as far as Camp Drift67 & walked back – Dr S[tanger] & Warner68 followed on horseback leaving A[nne] & I alone for the 2nd time only since we have been here – Mr & Mrs M[oodie] soon followed riding. A Holiday – Morning went up town & to the M[oodie]s’ – the Dutch make a complete holiday of this & amuse themselves with continually firing off Guns. With A[nne] had some lunch & then with the M[oodie]s & Mr Bird walked to the Cloetes’ – Very hot walk – There we found the Miss Wests – soon after we all walked down to the river, & sitting low down on the bank had tea & cake & passed a very pleasant hour or two – Home at dusk – Evng we went to the M[oodie]s’ – the Cloetes, Jane Dunn & Mr Gibb there. A merry evening – Round Games, Singing &c. Home late.Jan. 2 Sunday morng with A[nne] to Church. Dreadfully hot & feeling very poorly I never remember having so bad a headache. Took medicine, went to bed and on the morrow.Jan. 3 rose much better. Great preparings for our long talked of Expedition to Table Mountain69 – Mr & Mrs M[oodie] returned from the Allisons’ delighted with all they saw there. We got home from M[oodie]s’ late, had tea & went to bed very tired.

Although of a later period, this shows Table Mountain in relation to Pietermaritzburg – the latter being below the trees on the skyline on the right of the picture. Source: A.F. Hattersley’s More Annals of Natal (1936).


Jan 4th – Up at sunrise fine day – About 9 started with 3 Wagons for the Mountain – Most of the party rode, but George, Lolotte70, Jane Dunn and I went in the first wagon to the Martens’ Farm71 where we outspanned. Here the riding party joined us. About 4 we inspanned – I then joined the riders & after a hot & fatiguing journey we reached a beautiful place just under the Mountain. On one side it reared its huge height – on the other were more distant hills and below us was a beautifully wooded valley with the Umgeni winding through – close to ran a little stream, which falling over the Rocks made a natural shower bath, which was in constant use – Our tents & Marquee (4) & three wagons made a very respectable encampment – We were all dreadfully tired & very glad of some tea which I made on the grass – although we had 3 English servants & plenty of Kafirs yet we had a great deal to do & after a hasty dinner in the Marquee which was both dining-drawing & sleeping room we soon separated for the night – Our party I must tell you consisted of 7 M[oodie]s, Anne, Miss72, Evelyn73 and Graham Cloete74, Jane Dunn, Lieut. Gordon75, Mr Bird, Mr Gibb & myself. I slept in the Marquee which is large & comfortable.Jany 5 Up early – washed at the Rocks. Very hot. After breakfast books & gossip had been discussed it was settled we should go up the Mountain which is only accessible one way – some rode (all the ladies who went) I walked with George76 and Mr Bird – It was a hard pull as you had to crawl up & it was very hot – However we were all glad to have got up. We could see P.M. Burg very distinctly – Got to the Tents again about 3. We then amused ourselves till dinner time – some read, some sketched – a few worked. One great source of amusement was detaching pieces of the rock & letting them fall over the precipice. They made a tremendous noise. The scene from the Tents was really most lovely – About dusk Dunbar77 from the town – Dined & had a merry evening – singing – playing at games &c. – Went to bed late.Jany 6 – Cool day – Up early & bathed. Showery. All but I went down to the Valley below to the Banana Grove – As I did not feel quite well I staid [sic] at home & lying down on the grass read the ‘Essays of Elia’ – a very nice book – When they came home, in spite of the rain the ladies bathed. Mr M[oodie] & Donald78 also joined us now – Dinner & a merry evening finished the day.Jan.7 – Morning Rain so we had to sit in the Marquee – Working – Reading, singing & talking much. After lunch it cleared up & a party rode down in the valley beneath to the beautiful Umgeni – I with George & Evelyn walked in the same direction – very tired when we got home – I saw an Accacia [sic] Father would have given much to see – bright red & yellow. I never saw it before – More Bathing followed – then dinner & a still more merry & noisy evening as it was our last – Late to bed.Jany 8 – Up early & bathed. Very hot – About 11 – the Wagons started for home – the Riding Party following – At Martens’ farm where we outspanned & where Mr Bird’s wagon was overturned luckily with no damage, we staid [sic] some time – drank claret & tea, ate boiled mealies79, peaches & prickly pears which I had never tasted before. I rode in with the others through a new & beautiful way and we all got home about 6 – 14 in number on horseback, having all of us I am sure enjoyed ourselves much. We found all at home, they having come home on Wednesday – S[arah] delighted with the Allisons and her journey & we delighted with ours.


Jany 9 Sunday – Very hot Morning to church. Afternoon walked. Evening took tea at the M[oodie]s’ – Charles Piers80 there. Mr & Mrs M[oodie] & Mr Bird took tea at S[arah]’s.Jany 10 – Intensely hot. Rode before breakfast – Afternoon walked with the M[oodie]s – Eveng Mr G[ibb] dined here. Tempest, of which we have had a few this year.Jany 11 – Very hot. Rode and bathed early – Called on the Cloetes with Anne. Evening George M[oodie] dined here.Jany 12 – Rode and bathed early – The last 4 have hereto been the hottest of 4 successive days I remember – Afternoon walked as far as the heat would allow me – Eveng at home reading a foolish book by Albert Smith called ‘Mr Ledbury’.Jany 13 – Cool & showery – Rode & bathed early – Rumours of attacks growing louder every day. The Troops from Bushman’s River Recalled & other steps are being taken81. Afternoon rode again with A[nne] and the M[oodie]s – Mr Bird, Mr Gibb, the Colonel & Lieut. Gordon joined us – the former is such a funny old man!Jany 14 – The Burgher [sic] Force ordered to be enrolled – Eveng took tea at the M[oodie]s’ –Whist.Jany 15 – Rode early –The troops came in – Morning enrolled myself in the Burgher [sic] Force – Lunched with Mr Bird – Walked by the River with the Cloetes, Miss Wests and some of the M[oodie]s. Dined at the M[oodie]s’ – Mr Gibb there.Jany 16 Sunday – Morning to Church – Very hot – Afternoon showery, Walked with A[nne] & the M[oodie]s to the Garden82 – Minna & Mr G[ibb] took tea here – I staid [sic] to tea at the M[oodie]s’.Jany 17 – Rode & bathed early – Rode again with A[nn] ,the M[oodie]s, Mr Gibb & Mr Harding who is our Chief Commandant of the Burghers [sic] – Mr G[ibb] dined here.Jany 18 – Breakfast at Mr Hertzhog’s[sic] – then with Wesley & the M[oodie]s Rode to the Market Place where all the Burghers [sic] were met. Mr Harding made us a speech on Loyalty our Duties &c &c & then we proceeded to elect 4 Commandants Mr Howell83,

This is the successor to the bridge mentioned in the Journal, but the topography would be much the same as it would have appeared in 1847–8. In the middle distance is the town, with ‘the Camp’ (Fort Napier) on the low hill towards the left. Source: A.F. Hattersley’s Pietermaritzburg Panorama (1938).


Mr Landman84, Mr Ogle85 Mr Otto86 & then the Burghers [sic] enrolled themselves under the man each liked best. We – under Mr Otto – S[arah] spent the day at the M[oodie]s’ as did the 2 Miss Cloetes. Afternoon walked to the Bridge87 – Evng Dr S[tanger] dined at the M[oodie]s’ – so Alice [sic]88 and I had our coffee together.Jany 19 – Showery Afternoon with Minna, Jane Dunn, Anne [sic] & Mr G[ibb] went to the Mess Garden – then to the Shepstones’ to tea, in their new house close to the Colonel’s & near us. Alice Shepstone’s Birthday89 – A very merry evening – playing at round games &c. & making as you may suppose a great noise – the Dr & S[arah] rode out in the afternoon. S[arah] on the Dr’s great horse.Jany 20 – No Band to our regret . The 2 Miss Cloetes90, Jane Dunn & Minna spent the day here – Afternoon walked – Evening some people to tea – Mr Gibb, Lt. Coxon, Mr Bird, Wesley, most of the M[oodie]s – Henry Cloete, Henry & Charles Piers made a large party for our small rooms. The piano this time was moved into the Drawing Room – Refreshments were served in the back hall, & this arrangement was very good – We had a very merry evening – Music – Round Games both quiet and noisy ones, songs &c. Mr Coxon went into raptures at seeing your last 2 heads as indeed everyone does who sees them.Jany 21 – Mail by ‘Rosebud’ arrived – In your September parcel your journal of August 19 & H’s91 welcome notes of August 29 – also a letter for S[arah] and Anne. Afternoon showery – Eveng with Anne dined at the M[oodie]s’ – Mr Gibb there – played a rubber.Jany 22 Showery Mr M[oodie]’s 3 youngest sons came on ‘Rosebud’ from school92 & for whom it was necessary to send a Wagon – so Anne, Minna & George were to go down for them & I got leave much to my joy to go too. Had an early dinner at Mr Hertzhog’s [sic]. Got leave from Commandant Otto to absent myself from the General Muster & about 5 off we started in great glee not caring a bit about the Rain – the Jolting in the Wagon &c. on our journey of 110 miles93 – We outspanned at Uys Doorns94, had tea & luckily G[eorge] and I found another wagon there in which we slept & so we were spared the trouble of pitching our Tent.Jany 23 Up at daybreak had breakfast & about 8 started – a beautiful morning. We had got about an hour on our way, when lo and behold – we met a wagon with 3 boys in it, who soon proved to be Benny, John Bell & Duncan Moodie95. Was it not a sell? Nothing however remained but to turn back. At Uys Doorns we again outspanned & had tiffin & got home about 5. Found all in a state of great excitement – the ‘Douglas’ had just arrived with 60 men of the 45th on Board & Sir Harry Smith96 was reported to have proclaimed peace on the Frontier & to be on his way overland to Natal – All were rejoiced at it – Eveng Mr G[ibb] took tea here. They were of course surprised to see us back so soon.Jany 24 Morning Rode – Eveng walked with Mr M[oodie] & Mr Cloete to the Bridge – Dined at the M[oodie]s’ & played a rubber.25th Morng rode early & bathed. Afternoon the Dr and S[arah] rode – I walked with Anne for a wander alone – Evng took tea with Mr Cameron (45th)97 who has recently become our neighbour – Minna, George & Mr Gibb took tea here.Jany 26 – Afternoon the Dr & S[arah] rode – We walked.


NOTES 1. Natal Witness quoted in U.E.M. Judd’s ‘The origins of the Natal Society, Chapter 3, 1847–1849’, Natalia 4,

Dec. 1974 pp.55–60. 2. See entry for 20 Dec. 1847. 3. Presumably his sisters Hannah Stephenson Smith and Mary Hursthouse. 4. The Moodies – family of Donald Moodie (1794–1861), Natal’s Secretary to Government. 5. i.e. Durban. 6. Catherine Jemima (Minna) Moodie (1826–1860). In 1850 she married Lt (later Capt.) William Howard

Jesse, RE (c.1821–1855), who died in the Battle of Sebastopol. 7. Lt Charles John Gibb, RE, joined the Army in December 1839, arriving in the Cape Colony in August

1841. He came to Natal with the1842 British expedition under Capt. Smith of the 27th Regiment to subject the Boers to British authority. Gibb and his RE men laid out the fort in which the British were besieged for a month before being relieved by a British force from the Cape. Gibb also designed and supervised the erection of the fort at Pietermaritzburg (Fort Napier). He was in command of the RE in Natal until his departure for the Cape in March 1848.

8. Presumably Theophilus Shepstone (1817–1893), Diplomatic Agent to the Native Tribes, rather than his younger brother John Wesley Shepstone (1827–1916), because Hursthouse and the latter were friends, and he refers to him throughout as Wesley or Wesley S.

9. Umgeni waterfalls – either what is now known as the Howick Falls, or the Albert Falls further downstream.

10.Walter Harding (c.1810–1874), then Crown Prosecutor and Resident Magistrate for Pietermaritzburg. Later Natal’s first Chief Justice.

11. John Wesley Shepstone, then a Zulu interpreter in the Government service.12. Christina Helen Graham (died 1871), wife of Henry Cloete (1792–1870), Recorder of the District Court

(i.e. Natal’ s one and only judge). She was the sister of Col. John Graham after whom Grahamstown is named.

13. Elsje Elizabeth Moller (1820–1900) (born Erasmus), second wife of Petrus Albertus Otto (1810–1890), a prominent farmer and landowner. Otto’s Bluff outside Pietermaritzburg takes its name from this family.

14. Johann David Marquard (1819–1880), assistant clerk in the Commissariat Department. He was later Pietermaritzburg’s first Government Teacher, from July 1849 until he returned to the Cape in October 1853.

Jany 27 Morning rode with Wesley S[hepstone] – Afternoon went to the Band – afterwards rode with Anne, Wesley & George M[oodie] – Eveng went to see Dunbar M[oodie] who is unwell – Henry Cloete and Wesley there – Had tea & then went into George’s Room & played a rubber.January 28 Morning Rode – Afternoon went to Library Committee Meeting – Then walked with the M[oodie]s & Cloetes – Evening at home busy writing this to you.January 29 – Morning Rode – Afternoon walked – Evening still writing this horrid long letter to you – Anne and I often laugh at your saying we lead so gay & pleasant a life but we think that yours at Beccles98 must also be most pleasant. Your descriptions of the Garden – the River99, Lowestoft98 & Norwich all appear charming to us – By the By you complain of Anne particularly never writing & say very untruly and absurdly – that she has forgotten Beccles – is engrossed with her new friends here &c. – My dear Mary – you are all wrong – she does write, though you may not get the letters & I am sure she will never forget her home. But about letters why do not we complain of you & say we never hear from you, & yet I am sure you all write often – the fact is the letters get lost & when you come to think of the distance &c – one wonders more are not missing – but seriously dear M[ary] do not accuse A[nne] again of such faults for she is not guilty of them.With love to allyours everWH


He was also secretary of the Pietermaritzburg Reading Room/ Natal Reading Society before Hursthouse. When the latter went to Cape Town, Marquard acted in his stead, and after William’s death, continued to do so until the society’s next AGM, when he was appointed secretary once more. He retained this position until he left Natal.

15. William James Dunbar Moodie (1827–1903), the eldest Moodie son. When Hursthouse left Natal on sick leave Dunbar acted for him, and after his death succeeded to his offices. Later a Natal Resident Magistrate.

16. i.e. cornet.17. Theophilus’ wife Maria Palmer (1815–1893).18. As ‘Miss Otto’ would, according to custom, have been the eldest daughter (the others having the appellation

‘Miss’ before their Christian names), one presumes this would have been Gertruida Jacomina Margaretha (1830–1851), who in 1849 married Jacobus Christiaan Zeederberg.

19. Donald Hugh Menzies Moodie (1830–1911).20. Theophilus Shepstone’s property was Erfs 2 and 3 Burger Street. The house stood on Erf 3.21. Lt-Col. Edmond French Boys, 45th Regiment, commanding officer of the troops in Natal. When Lt-Governor

Martin West died in July 1849 he administered the Natal government until the arrival of Lt-Governor B.C.C. Pine in April 1850. Boys’ property was on Erf 1 Burger Street.

22. The widow of Piet Retief (1780–1838), Magdalena Johanna Greyling (born de Wet), was granted Erf 22 Church Street by the Voortrekker government. Part of her house still exists as No. 225 Church Street, until very recently the premises of the legal firm, Hathorn, Cameron & Co. The premises of Edgars Stores Ltd (219 Church Street) partially encompass the site of the rest of the house, which fronted on to Church Street. The erf would have gone through to Pietermaritz Street. Each erf was about an acre and a half in extent, so the garden would have been large. William’s reference to ‘old Retief’ is puzzling – possibly he knew a Mrs Retief lived there and was unaware that she was a widow.

23. Wife of Capt. Henry John Shaw, 45th Regiment.24. Martha Jane (1838–1921), second child of the Revd Daniel Lindley, missionary of the American Board

of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, and his wife Lucy. She went to America in 1855 to complete her education, returning to her father’s mission station at Inanda in 1863. In later years she was much involved with the Inanda Seminary.

25. Matilda Jane Dunn (born c.1829), daughter of Robert Newton Dunn (1796–1847) of Sea View, Durban, a Cape 1820 Settler who came to Natal c.1837. He had died on 5 September 1847 at Congella between Durban and Sea View, having been thrown from his horse, and perhaps trampled by an elephant (this latter fate is sometimes ascribed to him, but up until now no contemporary source has been found confirming this. The words ‘dreadful death’ could, perhaps validate this cause of death).

26. Ann Harold Biggar (1802–1851), second child of Alexander Harvey Biggar (1781–1838), 1820 Settler who came to Natal in 1836, and his wife Mary Straton.

27. Presumably ‘Armstrong’s Garden’, named after the 45th Regiment lieutenant W.C. Armstrong, and situated below Fort Napier in the region at the end of present Havelock Road (an extension of Pietermaritz Street). This was on the Townlands, separated from Ordnance land by the furrow carrying the town’s water supply from the present Botanical Gardens area. Its Townlands site was to become a major source of dispute between the citizens and the military.

28. i.e. Donald Moodie.29. Dr Thomas Best (c.1817–1881), Assistant-Surgeon, 45th Regiment.30. Unidentified.31. Zwaartkop, a prominent hill west of Pietermaritzburg.32. Probably today’s Gordon Falls at Edendale. Edendale, previously the farm Welverdient, then belonged to

the Voortrekker leader A.W.J. Pretorius (see Natalia 32 pp.43–7 for more on these falls).33. Maria Elisabeth Fürstenberg, wife of Francois Roos (1781–1853).34. The Misses Cloete – presumably Catherine Maria (c.1826–1852) later wife of Army Surgeon George

Waterloo Pennington Sparrow, and Charlotte Sophia (born c.1829), who married Capt. H.W. Parish (see Note 54).

35. Henry Daniel Cloete (born 1829).36. To the Inanda Mission Station, north of Durban.37. Mrs Dunn’s sister Mary de Villiers (born c.1804), wife of John George de Villiers (born c.1793), an attorney

in Pietermaritzburg.38. Dr Stanger’s clerk, D.W. Hertzog.39. i.e. the Natal Reading Society.40. George Pigot Moodie (1829–1891), the second Moodie son, later Surveyor-General of the Transvaal, and

a gold-mining pioneer.


41. Blaauwkrantz – i.e. the area near the river of that name in northern Natal.42. John Bird (1815–1896), who besides his surveying duties, was acting as magistrate in the northern district.

Later Resident Magistrate, Pietermaritzburg, 1859–1876, then Colonial Treasurer, 1876–1878, and Acting Judge of the Native High Court 1879. At the request of the Natal Society, and with a government grant, he compiled the Annals of Natal (1880–1885).

43. This was at the time of the Klip River ‘Rebellion’, when the Boers in the area bounded by the Drakensberg, the Tugela and the Umzinyati (Buffalo) rivers (the latter, in this region, being the border between the Colony and the Zulu kingdom), set up their own government. They considered the Natal authorities were not acting on their behalf against Zulu refugees who were crossing the border in significant numbers.

44. Revd John Richards (1811–1898). By arrangement with the Dutch Reformed congregation, services were held in their church, the only one in the town.

45. Robert Gray (1809–1872) had been consecrated Bishop of Cape Town in June 1847, but arrived in his new see only in February 1848.

46. Mpande, King of the Zulus. The dissatisfied Klip River Boers maintained that the land they were occupying belonged to King Mpande, and had agreed to pay him 1 000 rix-dollars for the right of occupation, hence the fear in the public mind of collusion between the king and the Boers.

47. Bushman’s river – the river which passes through the present town of Estcourt.48. Government House was on Erfs 31 and 32 Loop Street, facing the Market Square. It was rented in 1846

from Jacobus Nicolaas Boshof (1818–1881) by the Lt-Governor Martin Thomas West (c.1804–1849).49. Martin West had three daughters, Isabella Caroline, Charlotte Maria and Albinia Clarissa.50. Camp Hill i.e. the hill on which Fort Napier is situated.51. Henry Piers, brother of Charles Piers, surveyor (see Note 79).52. Fort Napier.53. i.e Erf 1 Burger Street.54. Recorder Cloete’s home was on Erf 26 Burger Street, on the corner of Loop Street and Commercial Road.

The house was in later years known at The Oaks private hotel.55. Henry Woodbine Parish (born 1821), in 1849 married Charlotte Sophia Cloete. In later years Parish

commanded the 45th Regiment in the 1868 Ethiopian Expedition, and by 1880 was the Lt-Colonel of the Brigade Depot at Devizes, Wiltshire.

56. George Stacpole Coxon, 45th Regiment, later owner of Lt-Col. Boys’ home on Erf 1 Burger Street.57. George Burrell, 45th Regiment.58. Charles H. Shiel, Deputy Assistant Commissary-General in Natal.59. Dr Duncan Menzies, the 45h Regiment’s Surgeon in Natal.60. Edward Lorenzo Chiappini, of the Cape Town mercantile firm A.Chiappini & Co., which also owned land

in Natal. Son of Florentine-born Antonio Baldazar Melchior Casper Chiappini (1777–1860) and Cape-born Johanna Magdalena Heugh who were married in 1804. Edward’s Italian grandfather was Lorenzo (or Thommas) Chiappini, whereas the Encyclopaedia Britannica (1910–11 edition) names the Doge who abdicated in 1797, in the face of defeat by Napoleon, as Ludovico Manin.

61. Friedrich Heinrich Pistorius (1789–c.1862) and his son Carl Wilhelm Heinrich (1819–1909) had a brick- and tile-yard at the foot of Pietermaritzburg’s Town Hill. Friedrich seems to have lived at or near the brick-yard, while by the end of 1852, Carl was resident on Erf 13 Berg Street. With Pietermaritzburg’s small population in 1847, either location could possibly be considered as ‘just beyond the Town’.

62. Henry Cooper, 45th Regiment, who took over as Commandant at Natal when Col. Boys left in June 1853, and as Administrator of the Government during the interregnum March 1855 to October 1856 between the departure of Lt-Governor B.C.C. Pine and the arrival of Lt-Governor John Scott.

63. William Swan Field (1821–1865), Natal’s Collector of Customs and, at this time, also Magistrate at Durban.

64. Theophilus and Maria.65. Revd James Allison (1805–1875) had established the Indaleni Mission Station early in 1847. In 1850 the

J.C. Byrne & Co. settler village of Beaulieu (later renamed Richmond) was established nearby.66. Alice and Harry were the Stanger children. Presumably Lilly and Talerta were family servants.67. Camp Drift (or Camp’s Drift, as it is now known) is the crossing of the Msunduzi river below Fort

Napier.68. William Warner (1827–1911), Dr Stanger’s personal servant.69. A flat-topped mountain to the east of Pietermaritzburg.70. G.P. Moodie and Charlotte Mary (Lolotte) Moodie (1832–1888), later wife of Revd James Green

(1821–1906), Dean of Pietermaritzburg.71. Doorn Hoek, the farm of Jan Thomas Martens (1800–1877).


72. The eldest Cloete girl appears to have been Catherine Maria.73. John Evelyn Gordon Cloete (1834–1909).74. Robert Graham Cloete (1838–1882).75. Lt Stephen Bilton Gordon, 45th Regiment, later while still in the army, to become Lt-Governor B.C.C.

Pine’s private secretary.76. G.P. Moodie.77. W.J.D. Moodie.78. D.H.M. Moodie.79. i.e. maize.80. Charles Piers, government surveyor, had come to Natal from the Cape Colony in Mar. 1845.81. In February 1848 a larger force was despatched under Major Cooper, consisting of 140 men of the 45th

(including Capt. Parish’s mounted infantry), a Cape Mounted Rifles detachment, and one of the RA, with two guns. A fort was erected where the town of Estcourt now stands.

82. Presumably the Mess Garden.83. James Michiel Gristock Howell (1810–1872), Pietermaritzburg attorney. In 1849 was appointed lieutenant

of the Natal Native Police.84. Presumably Karel Pieter Landman (1796–1875), one of the Boer leaders.85. Henry Ogle (c.1800–1860), one of the original party of hunter/traders who came to Natal in 1824.86. P.A.R. Otto.87. This, Pietermaritzburg’s second bridge, was completed towards the end of 1847 with a 50% subsidy from

the Government. It was known as the Jargal Bridge after the Pietermaritzburg merchant, Hypolite Jargal, who contributed almost half the privately-raised funds. It crossed the Msunduzi more or less where the Victoria Bridge now stands. It was washed away in April1848.

88. Presumably a mistake for Anne.89. This was Alice Shepstone’s second birthday!90. The Misses Cloete – presumably Catherine and Charlotte.91. Presumably Hannah Stephenson Smith.92. From school in the Cape.93. i.e. the total mileage for the expedition.94. Uys Doorns, in the present Ashburton district, was the first stopping-point on the road from Pietermaritzburg

to Durban.95. Benjamin Charles Moodie (1833–1858), John Bell Moodie (1836–1876) and Duncan Campbell Francis

Moodie (1838–1891).96. Sir Harry Smith (1787–1860), Governor of the Cape and High Commissioner, came to Natal to try and

dissuade the dissatisfied Boers from leaving Natal for the interior.97. Charles Duncan Cameron (died 1870) 45th Regiment. Entered the army in May 1846. Cameron seems

to have left the 45th early, as in December 1851 he was appointed Assistant Magistrate in Klip River Division. By June 1852 he had left Natal, and possibly South Africa. He is next encountered in 1853 as a member of staff of Sir W. Fenwick Williams, HM’s Commissioner with the Turkish Army, and while so engaged, carrying the local rank of captain. It appears that he was in prolonged siege of the Turkish fortress of Kars during the Crimean War. Kars capitulated to the Russians in November 1855. Special service to Trebisond on the Black Sea followed until September 1856. He later became a British Vice-Consul in the Black Sea region, first at Redout Kaleh (1858), then at Poti (1859). In November 1861 he left the area to take up the position of British Consul in Abyssinia, arriving in January 1862. Not long after, the King of Abyssinia, Theodore, became displeased with the British Government and Cameron himself, and in January 1864 imprisoned him and his suite. They were briefly released in August 1865, but en route to the coast and freedom, were apprehended once more. Until June 1866 captivity was bearable, but then they were imprisoned in the fort at Magdala, where they were subjected to hunger and cold and, for a time, were kept in chains. In July 1867 the British Government decided to send a force from India (totalling in all 32 000) under Sir Robert Napier. Included in the force was the 45th Regiment commanded by Cameron’s former fellow officer Henry Woodbine Parish (see Note 54). The captives were liberated on 11 April, and Magdala was stormed and taken two days later. Cameron returned to England in July, and was pensioned in the following December. He died in Geneva less than eighteen months later.

98. Towns in Suffolk, near the boundary between Norfolk and Suffolk.99. The Waveney river, which forms the border between these two counties.

SHELAGH O’BYRNE SPENCER

17From the very beginning to the very end

Natalia 34 (2004), Mark Coghlan pp. 17 – 49

From the very beginning to the very end

John Bertram Nicholson’s Natal Carbineer Anglo-Boer War Diary and Letters:

Part Two*: 3 October 1900–27 July 1901

In the first week of October 1900 the Natal Volunteer regiments were released from service on the proviso that 300 men continue service in a combined contingent known as the Volunteer Composite Regiment (VCR). John Bertram Nicholson was among the Natal Carbineers who volunteered for this further service. This segment of the diary opens with Nicholson stationed at De Jager’s Drift, a strategic drift over the upper Mzinyathi (Buffalo) River on the wagon roads between Dundee and Vryheid, and ends with a stint at Nqutu in Zululand. Most of the action that follows takes place in and between these two towns, often in isolated outposts. Nicholson’s duties during this period were dominated by convoy escort duty and endless patrols.

His astute commentary covers a multitude of issues, from the often grim and arduous conditions, to the failings of the officers and the destruction and hardship caused by the scorched-earth strategy pursued by the British in an attempt to batter the Boers into submission. Amidst the often grinding drudgery of the guerrilla war of containment in northern Natal, several highlights do nevertheless emerge. On 14 December 1900, for example, the VCR engaged Boer burghers at Scheeper’s Nek, outside Vryheid, and lost two men killed, one of them Peter Comrie, an acquaintance of Nicholson’s from Richmond.

(Nicholson’s Volunteer Composite Regiment CV)Regimental number: 205

Ex-corps and rank: Natal Carbineers, trooperEnrolment VCR: 1 October 1900

Squadron: 2ndDischarge: 31 July 1902, disbandment of Regiment

*Part One appeared in Natalia no. 33


18 From the very beginning to the very end

Wednesday 3 October 1900De Jager’s Drift. A convoy went back today to Blood River at dawn, and on the way the force with it blew up three Dutch houses near the scene of the fight [of 1 October]. All present say it was a very sad scene indeed as the women and children were turned out and only allowed bed clothes, and then everything went sky high. (This is Nicholson’s first comment on the contentious scorched-earth policy of the British military, that was to dominate the irregular campaign from this point to the end of the war. Bear in mind that he himself was a farmer, and would also have been mindful of Boer depredations in the Natal midlands in October and November 1899.)

Thursday 4 October 1900Dundee. We packed up everything in camp and shifted camp to behind the Native church. Everything was in a muddle. No officers anywhere and we did not even know our own units, so we were pretty wild with the officers. (Nicholson displays a distinctly jaundiced and almost insubordinate attitude towards his officers. In their defence, though, it must be noted that the transition period of Volunteer demobilisation and establishment of the VCR was a confused one.)

Saturday 6 October 1900Dundee. We came out today after one of the most awful mix-ups I ever saw. First, we were to be ready to march at 12 a.m. [noon], then 1 p.m. and 2 p.m. Then at last we left at 3 p.m., after sitting an hour in our saddles and the officers trying to square up the squadrons a bit – just like them to leave everything to the last. (Nicholson on officers again.) Also, men fell in for equipment at 1 p.m., were marched up, and never got it.

I was never so pleased to leave a camp as this one, owing to all the confusion. We were also told to strike tents and pack all kits. We did the kits, and then, when we had taken

The diarist (kneeling at extreme left) and companions enjoying a meal produced from the crude field mess facilities.


them away from the tents and were just about to strike them, the order was cancelled. One minute it was ‘saddle up!’, [the] next, ‘don’t saddle up!’ We reached De Jager’s at 5 p.m. We were not halted to say goodbye to our comrades (those proceeding to Piet-ermaritzburg for demobilisation), but just rode through their lines while they cheered.

Tuesday 9 October 1900De Jager’s Drift. A convoy of empties (wagons) came in today from Blood River for supplies. About 80 of us went out to meet them. I was on the left flank of scouts going out, and on our way home we formed a rearguard along with our troop. This plan of meeting halfway is the best so the escort is stronger here in the middle than anywhere else.

Sunday 14 October 1900De Jager’s Drift. I was on picquet last night. Just after we got to our post, which was in a donga, we took our horses down into it as ordered and then took our post up above them. In going down to make his bed, one of our chaps slipped and scared the horses, and they stampeded back to camp with Montgomery (JWV Montgomery, promoted to lieutenant on 1 October 1900) and I in full cry after them in the dark, and nearly breaking our necks running after them. We found them in camp looking at some forage which they could not eat owing to their nose-bags being on.

Sunday 21 October 1900De Jager’s Drift. Our troop was roused at 4.30 a.m. and marched to Gregory’s Nek to meet a convoy there from Dundee. We scouted all the way there and halted at Gregory’s where we took over from the regulars. On our way back Tom Hackland and I were sent to a kopje overlooking the Buffalo to watch till the convoy had all come over Gregory’s Nek. We then joined the troop and marched into camp along with the wagons. We are having hard work now.

Tuesday 23 October 1900De Jager’s Drift. We left at 6 a.m. for Vant’s Drift. There were four of us in all. It appears the Boers have been reported near here so we had to go and find out about it. None of us knew the road and no-one knew the distance, which was quite 25 miles (40km), a great deal too much for a patrol to do in a day.

Some of the country was very rough and rocky, and it took us until 3 p.m. to get there, with a halt of only one hour between. We off-saddled and rested an hour and then set off home which we reached at 8.30 p.m., tired out and having lost our way once or twice in the dongas and trees near Doornberg, and [we] also got among wire fences and railway cuttings. Our mates thought we had been captured and were beginning to feel uneasy about us. We heard nothing of any Boers down there, but they could not have been very far off, as it afterwards turned out.

Wednesday 24 October 1900De Jager’s Drift. We had a day off duty today. In the afternoon a wild storm came on … . It started to rain and Montgomery said, ‘Get under cover’. Just as they reached the tents a tremendous flash came down and struck Meyer’s tent, tearing it up and striking [Troopers] Stokely and Meyer senseless.

Meyer came out of the tent quite safely, with only a few cuts on his body. I was 15 paces off … and I got a severe shock in my right shoulder. Nearly everyone in camp


felt the shock. Stokely’s boot and one leg of his trousers were ripped clean off, but he came to in a few minutes, as also did Meyer, but both suffered a lot of pain and are to go to Dundee hospital.

Thursday 25 October 1900De Jager’s Drift. The day passed off quietly till 10 a.m., when we suddenly received orders to pack our saddles and get ready to march at 12 a.m. (noon). It is rumoured that some Boers have crossed the Buffalo at Vant’s Drift, on their way to destroy the (railway) line at Waschbank. We left, marched along skirting the Doornberg in a southerly direction. The main body halted just under one of the spurs of the Doornberg.

Friday 26 October 1900Laffne’s Drift. Yesterday’s move of our troop scouting was a blind to put the Boers off. Last night the horse-guards heard explosions, which turned out to be Boers destroying the line near Waschbank. We reached Vant’s Drift at 5.30 a.m.

Wednesday 31 October 1900Dundee. We all moved off at 1 p.m. for Brandon’s Pass. Our troop and one troop BMR [took] the left flank and the roughest country. We reached the foot of Brandon’s Pass at dark, horses falling out the whole way with exhaustion. We ascended about four miles (6,4 km) of heavy riding and reached where the column had to meet us, only to find that they had moved on to goodness knows where. After hunting till 9.30 p.m. they were found and we all reached them an hour later, dead tired.

Thursday 1 November 1900Vicinity of Brandon’s Pass. Last night some fool burnt (H) Urquhart’s house, which was unoccupied. He is an Englishman and he has two sons in the Natal Carbineers. (The incident caused a row that reached the office of the Colonial Secretary.) We moved off this morn at 7.30 a.m. over very rough country to Normandien, right under the berg.

Friday 2 November 1900Normandien. The day dawned in a pouring rain and for some time we didn’t move off. At 9.00 a.m., however, the OC decided to go on and we left for Dundee in torrents of rain. We marched along slowly and reached Van Rensburg’s house at 12.30 p.m., wet through and miserable. Halted here about two hours and [a] half, dried our things, and got down what little grub we had. At 2.30 p.m. we saddled up and moved again in the rain, there being no lull in the weather. When we got near the railway-line we saw a train coming, so Major McKenzie made us gallop for all we were worth and we came within 100 yards of the line as it passed.

It was the mail-train, and I think we gave them a fright as we did not see many faces just when it passed by. We reached Dundee at 5.30 p.m., wet, muddy, hungry and miser-able, but we had a good change as there was a house and hot coffee and food ready for us. We were very pleased to get it, I can assure you.

Saturday 3 November 1900Dundee. Passed off very quietly indeed, rather a contrast to last year when I was dodging shells etc. near Bester’s (on the outskirts of Ladysmith), and when one struck very near my horse.


Friday 9 November 1900De Jager’s Drift. We left on patrol at 5.30 a.m. this morn, for the same place as last time we went out. Sergeant Haine went with us and we had a very long ride, going to large numbers of houses to examine passes etc. We saw a lot of Dutch women in houses, whom we spoke to in Kaffir*, which was very amusing to hear.

At 2.30 a Native scout came in and reported 200 Boers were coming down to attack us, so we all saddled up and moved out to scout, leaving one man to guard our rear. We completely scouted the country and found no trace of them. At dusk we turned homewards and reached there at 9.30 p.m., tired out and hungry, as were also our horses, which had now been out all day. The Native scout did not get many blessings for warning us falsely.Monday 12 November 1900Dundee. This morn I waited till 8 a.m. for my leave and then gave up hope. Suddenly at 10 a.m. a telegram came to give G Newlands and I leave to go to Dundee and get leave. Since then I have been thinking of joining as a quick change actor in a theatre, as the way my clothes went off and clean one on was a marvel. I smashed my padlock off my kitbag as I had left my key. The lieutenant, however, said we would never catch the train, so we spent nearly an hour arguing as to whether we would risk it. We then decided to try, and left at 12.45 p.m. after a hurried meal. We rode at a terrible pace. The ride is the fastest that I [have] ever done. We reached Dundee in 2¾ hours, distant 20 to 25 miles (32,2 to 40,2 km). We galloped up to [the] Brigade office, jumped off our horses, and got our passes for seven days leave scribbled out.

Our horses we gave to a friend who was orderly, not even off-saddled, and then ran all the whole way to the station, got our concession tickets signed, and into the train just in time, and only because a red-taped officer could not let us know earlier than 10 a.m. with an instrument to telephone within just a foot of his nose. (Nicholson venting his spleen against the officer class once again.) My word, I could swipe some of the big bugs out of office. We had tea at Ladysmith tonight. There were seven of us in a car-riage, one being a Dutch woman, so we had a lively time of it altogether, as she could not understand English and made us laugh.Tuesday 13 November 1900Train: Dundee–Pietermarizburg. Reached PMB at 4 a.m. Left for Richmond at 6.50 a.m. We arrived there at 9.20 a.m. and had a great reception. Sports all day which went off fairly well indeed. At 6 p.m. I went home and changed my clothes into blue and white uniform, and also had a bathe in the Illovo [River], and then went into Richmond to the dance [that] commenced at 9.30 p.m. and went on till 4.30 a.m. with a great dash. I danced 24 out of 30 dances which was not bad as I had very little sleep the night before. At the luncheon earlier, and also at the thanksgiving service (for the safe return of the demobilised Volunteers. Receptions of this sort were held throughout the Colony during October and November), Sir Albert Hime (the prime minister of Natal) gave us an address, and at the banquet our officer and members also spoke.Monday 19 November 1900Richmond. Went and saw Hammonds and Newlands this morn and left for the front this afternoon by the 3.15 p.m. train. George Newlands also went up. Caught 10.20 p.m. Mail up for Dundee in PMB. Troop taking census and stock rolls, as all Dutch women etc are * This was the word used by Nicholson – it was in general use at the time, and had no derogatory connotation.

It is of course unacceptable usage today.


being moved into Dundee, a very good move as they are nothing but spies and rebels. (This was a hard, but by no means unusual, opinion on the part of colonial troops about internment of Boer civilians as part of the incipient British scorched-earth policy.)

Tuesday 20 November 1900Dundee. Arrived at Dundee at 9.20 a.m. and reported ourselves at the Brigade office at 10 a.m. As our horses were away on patrol (a shame), we were told to wait till next day when a wagon would go out and we could ride with it, as our horses would be back by then. There is a lot of dissatisfaction in the Regiment. Many resigning and some being fined or discharged for good. (This state of affairs was symptomatic of the adverse response to the low-key war of attrition being waged in northern Natal at this time, and the frequent periods of inactivity that characterised this period of the war.)

Friday 23 November 1900Helpmekaar. We left this morn on a long patrol to Rorke’s Drift. It is very rough country down there. We saw the scene of the great battle of Rorke’s Drift (22–23 January 1879 during the Anglo-Zulu War). How our fellows held out is a mystery to me, as the ground is so suitable for the Zulu’s advance. Had the Zulu attacked by day, they would have taken the place, but owing to the night they never really knew their own strength.

Thursday 13 December 1900De Jager’s Drift. The convoy went through safely to Blood River, no Boers being seen. Meanwhile our troop was sent, with two signallers, to occupy Bemba’s Kop, commanding all the country around and near Scheeper’s Nek. Soon after we got there, we saw some mounted men riding about near Scheeper’s Nek. However, they turned out to be two of our scouts (Native), and when brought here reported 10 or 12 Boers who had chased them away, but did not fire. I believe we shall have some warm work tomorrow.

VCR troopers pose in the Dundee-Vryheid post-cart.


Friday 14 December 1900De Jager’s Drift. We were roused at 3.30 a.m. this morn. It was a dull and damp morning with slight drizzle, and also a bit chilly. (14 December 1900 was to turn into probably the single most eventful day in the Volunteer Composite Regiment operations in northern Natal, and one of the few occasions on which the elusive Boers were brought to battle, and casualties, Corporal Peter Comrie and Trooper George McKellar, sustained.) At 4 a.m. I was sent to the outlying picquets to see if all was clear, and also to tell them not to come in until sent for.

I arrived at Bemba’s Kop just after the column left camp. We then mounted and left the hill for the flats. We gradually extended in half-sections over the flat and marched towards Scheeper’s Nek. A mist came down with a smart drizzle and it looked bad for us in the scouting line, as we would have had to ride right into the Boers before seeing them. After some hard riding we arrived just behind the VCR, which we were told to support.

Suddenly the report of a cannon was heard and kept up at a fair rate on our right. This turned out to be the 67th Battery shelling the kopje overlooking the Nek. A good strong force of Boers was seen there and it was believed some execution was done among them, as some were seen to fall. Closer to us, however, nearly all the scouts were suddenly ordered to gallop and converge on a piece of rising ground on our right.

At a tremendous gallop they arrived there and dismounted without linking horses, [and] rushed for the kopje where they got just in time to greet some Boers with a volley which emptied some saddles. A hot fire went on but at last the Boers retired. Meanwhile, as soon as the scouts converged on the ground where the first fight took place, our troop galloped away to the left and headed for some rising ground with a low ridge of stones. Arrived there, we halted close up to the kopje, and Lieutenant Montgomery then gal-loped on and joined Captain McKay (David Watt Mackay from Estcourt, who had been severely wounded at Colenso in December 1899, and went on to command the Natal Carbineers from 1911 to 1920) who had just gone on top with four of his men, who were in the scouting line. No sooner did the little party show itself when ‘ping ping’, the sharp snap of the Mauser was heard, and our comrades retired.

Our officers led us back slowly and then we faced round and dismounted. We then linked horses, and leaving three men in charge of the horses, and also the pack man, we advanced in skirmishing order. As we advanced over the hill nothing was to be seen, just a few feet further on a bullet suddenly rang out just above us. As the ground was too open we were ordered to retire.

As we fell back, I happened to look up, and just below us [saw] about 10 or 12 Boers in full gallop after some loose horses of ours which had come down from the other fight. I at once fired, as also did some others, but there was a bit of uncertainty as to who they were among some of the men. However, our fire stopped them, killing one of their horses and knocking a man off, but just then the Boers behind us opened a hot fire and we had to face round and fire at them. The Boers who had been galloping after the horses thus got away, taking two of our horses with them.

A heavy fire then commenced on us which we replied to as hard as we could. On the right flank which was held by Corporal Comrie and myself and the two Lewises, also Lieutenant Household, the firing was terrible. In a few minutes, just after Corporal Comrie said, ‘I have hit one of their horses’, he received a bullet while he was in the act


of aiming. It struck in the higher region of the stomach just under the heart, and came out in his left ribs, showing that it was a flank shot.

Poor Mr Comrie. I shouted to the officer, Mr Montgomery, that he (Comrie) was wounded. When Corporal Comrie heard me, he said, ‘Do not trouble about me, Jack, go on’, so I went on firing. Sergeant Household managed to move Peter (Comrie) to an easier position, but these were his last words and he was unconscious in a minute or two and died just as Mr Montgomery ran round from the left flank. He suffered no pain as, when he spoke to me, it was in his natural voice, and he never moved or groaned after his fall, as I would have heard him, being only two feet from him on his left. Thus died a true and brave man, mourned by all in the regiment. The only comfort is that no man can die a nobler death than this. However, his Richmond comrades shall miss him.

Meanwhile the fire grew hotter than ever and I shouted to some of our chaps, and said to give us a hand as the Boers are advancing to outflank us. In standing up to fire, as we could not see otherwise, a bullet passed between my arm and body, cutting my sleeve on one side and my bandolier on my body side. It was a marvellous escape, and I can only thank God for his mercy to me. Meanwhile one or two men had run up in reply to my call, and in standing up to fire, poor young McKellar received a bullet from the right in his head and fell. Death was instantaneous. Poor fellow, he was such a nice young chap and will be missed by us all. This was two feet off me on my left. Just after this, I believe, a shot was fired right along our line of fire from the right flank, and now for some minutes the fight looked bad for us, and we were warned by Captain McKay that we might have to stand to our horses at any moment. However, Lieutenant Montgomery steadied us and we set our teeth to do or die.

We advanced along our right, and this, coupled with our steady stand, dismayed the Boers who began to retreat. We then advanced very carefully indeed, but no sooner did we get to the far ridge when a volley of shots was fired at us from some stones a good distance away, and we had to retire, there being no cover at all. We again advanced, but could get no further and had to retire, the bullets ‘ping ping’ all around us. We had gone back halfway, but here we stopped as the BMI Maxim came up and we had to support it. It, however, did no good as they could not advance far enough, the fire being too hot. Soon, however, the Royal Field Artillery came into action on the scene of the first fight, and the Boers did a bunk, we helping them on a volley or two. Thus

A page from Nicholson’s notebook entry for 14 December 1900, the day

his Richmond friend, Peter Comrie, was killed at Scheeper’s Nek.


ended our fight and it was the warmest corner I have ever been in. Had we given it all we should have been massacred. It was owing to the example set by Mr Comrie that we made such a stand.

Owing to the distance from Vryheid and the fact that the weather was not clear, it was decided to bury our comrades where they fell, eight men being told off to dig a grave. I was among them. The rest [were] ordered to camp on Scheeper’s Nek in case they were wanted. We dug one grave, as there were only two spades, and the ground was hard and stony, for our comrades and the Boer, Potgieter. We then solemnly placed the bodies in the grave and the Last Rites were performed by Colonel Evans, who read the Church of England service over the grave out of my prayer-book, which I always carry. We then closed the grave and built a cairn of stones over it. We also built a small cairn where they fell, and then we left them in their last long sleep, trusting to meet them again on the silver shore, where all tears are washed away.

Saturday 15 December 1900Vryheid. Vryheid is very pretty. There are not many people in the streets, but a good many live in the houses. We are camped in the athletic grounds. Orders for a reconnaissance tomorrow at 8 a.m., north of here. There was a very heavy fight here on Saturday. (Nicholson must be referring to the Boer attack on Lancaster Hill, Vryheid on 11 December, which was a Tuesday. The audacious attack was the most notable incident among several Boer incursions into the southern Transvaal territories recently occupied by the British.) Both sides lost heavily, but I think Boers more so. (Here Nicholson is way off the mark. Although the attack was repulsed the British lost far more heavily than the Boers.) It started at 2 a.m. and went on all day till darkness. The Boers took some prisoners and also a good many horses belonging to the Mounted Infantry. It being a surprise attack, many men were fighting in their shirts etc.

Sunday 16 December 1900Vryheid. At 7.30 a.m. we saddled up and left in force for the Piet Retief road, our object being to find the Boer laager and to see if it was strongly held. The VCR formed the advance scouting line. Before we extended, Corporal Symons and eight men, including myself, were sent forward to climb a high hill and signal if any Boers were in sight. This we did, having a very stiff climb, but could not see anything from the top except our Native scouts. We then moved down the other side of the hill and joined our line of scouts. Corporal Symons and three men, including myself, were sent forward to protect the right front, so we advanced to a piece of high ground in front, from which we could see a good way off.

We had not been there long, when ‘flip flop’, went the Mauser from a ridge about a mile (1,6 km) in front. It became heavier and some replies from our side also mingled in the chorus. It turned out to be the Boers firing at our scouts (Native and English), whom they had allowed to come within 300 yards of their position. By a miracle no-one was hit, but the Boers would not advance. Corporal Symons sent a man in to report this, and at once the whole line advanced to the first ridge. Meanwhile I rode to Mr Montgomery and reported Boers on a kopje on our right front. A few minutes later four guns came into action and pretty soon cleared the ridge of Boers. Some very accurate shooting was done.


John Bertram (‘Jack’) Nicholson’s diary entry for 14 December 1900 provides the historian with an interesting reflection on the reli-ability of primary evidence. He describes the deaths and burial of two of his comrades, Cpl Comrie and Tpr Mc Kellar. Nicholson had reason to have been impressed by these deaths: both men were within touching distance when they fell, and Nicholson was a member of the burial party. He provides quite specific detail about the grave-digging, and goes on to say that in that single grave they buried Comrie and McKellar, to-gether with a Boer named Potgi-eter. A while later he returned to the place, and recorded a descrip-tion of the memorial that had been erected there.

In the Comrie family albums there are contemporary photo-graphs of both the first grave and the eventual memorial. Not only did Nicholson transcribe the inscription on the memorial incorrectly, but the photographs show that the third body in the grave is not of a Potgieter at all but of one Frederic Louis Berning of the Piet Retief commando.

Questions spring to mind. How did Nicholson come to make that mistake with the name? What identification was on the body, and if Nicholson found the name Potgieter, how did Berning come by it? Who corrected this misidentification, and when? The three wooden crosses originally marking the grave are of identical design. Did Boer and Brit co-operate, or is this merely a sign that the dead of both sides were treated with equal respect?

Regarding historical evidence, one might suppose that the diary entry of a partici-pant in a memorable event would constitute reliable information. So too would be a contemporary photograph, taken in the days before digital manipulation of images. Yet if one supposed that, one would be wrong: in this case, the two contradict each other.

Peter Comrie, incidentally, had a long and event-filled military career. Scottish born and a two-year-old child when his parents landed at Durban in 1850, he was attached to Chelmsford’s column when it camped at Isandhlwana but was out scouting on the fatal day. Some twenty years later he was a Carbineer besieged in Ladysmith. Although he was then over 50 years old, he, like Nicholson, volunteered to soldier on, and, having survived two of the most memorable episodes in South African military history, took a bullet and died in a minor skirmish towards the end of a campaign which was all but over and done with.

Note supplied by Moray Comrie


We were then ordered to advance, which we did. No Boers were to be seen for a good way off, but on some kopjes, a good distance off on our right and front, they were thick as bees. The Police Maxim came into action at once, but the range was too great. Two guns came up, however, [and] put two shots into a kopje with a lot of Boers standing on it. I have never seen such a sudden bob down as the Boers did as the shells burst, and next minute they were flying down the hillside for their lives.

On the right some Native scouts were sent out to some rising ground, but as soon as they got there, they were fired on from a long stony ridge. Some shells were sent over in that direction and the Boers ceased firing. Our troop and the Police was (sic) left as support for the guns and a general advance was begun forward. In skirmishing order, all the troops reached the flat, and the VC Regiment scouting line had reached some farms in the valley with some pretty Dutch girls named Van Rooyen. No sooner did they (the VCR) reach there, than a Pom-pom opened on our troops and made things lively for a time. The object of the reconnaissance being accomplished and the laager being too strong to attack with the force at our disposal, a general retirement was ordered, which was well carried out under a heavy Pom-pom fire.

No-one was touched but there were some narrow squeaks. One farmhouse was burnt as it was used as the Boer headquarters in attacks on Vryheid. The retirement to Vryheid was skilfully carried out, each body of men covering each other’s retreat. The guns and support waited a good while for the Boers to advance again but none were seen. We all reached Vryheid about 5 p.m., tired out with the terrible heat and long ride.

Tuesday 18 December 1900Vryheid. The main body was roused at 4 a.m. and left at 5 a.m. After we had crossed the Umfolosi by a bridge, eight of our troop were sent out on the right flank in scouting order, just as a precaution. As soon as we reached the Nek, we closed in to the road, then we were allowed to go and off-saddle at a farmhouse (deserted) for half-an-hour, when we again saddled up and advanced about a mile-and-a-half (approximately 4 km). Here we halted till the convoy, which was outspanned, got a move on again.

As soon as the convoy marched from the Nek, the VCR took up the whole of the advance line of scouts, as Bethune’s were supporting the guns. I nearly came a crop-per just here as my horse got both feet (fore) in a hole and came down, but luckily he managed to get up very neatly and I escaped a fall.

Wednesday 19 December 1900Blood River. We were roused at 5 a.m. and left at 6 a.m. for De Jager’s Drift. At first the VCR advanced with the main body just in front of the convoy, but after the convoy had gone halfway, the Regiment fell back and acted as main rearguard, along with the NP (Natal Police). We had a very monotonous march with constant halts. We reached De Jager’s Drift at 12 noon, and off-saddled on the Natal side of the river. It rained a good deal this afternoon. About 5 p.m. it came down properly and became a steady downpour, going on till after dark. Our tents threatened to be swamped, and we all had to turn out to dig trenches.

Thursday 20 December 1900De Jager’s Drift. Still raining this morn, a very steady downpour. We struck tents and left at 7.30 a.m. for Dundee via Gregory’s Nek. Our troop was told off to escort two guns of the 67th Battery, Royal Artillery. When we came in sight of Sandspruit we


found it bank high. A halt was called and the OC decided to try a lower drift. So we turned downstream, when we were met by a volunteer who had been to test the drift and reported it was impassable.

We then turned back and the OC the guns decided to halt and outspan, but just as he was picking the ground, we were suddenly ordered to march. We were very pleased to do so, as it would have been terrible to have camped there. We made a long detour … [and] crossed [the] Sandspruit right under Impati Mountain (Mpate, on the north-west outskirts of Dundee) and reached Dundee at 1 p.m. The column gradually arrived, as also did the transport. Two or three soldiers were drowned in the Sandspruit in trying to cross it . We were wet though and felt very miserable and dirty.

Tuesday 25 December 1900Helpmekaar vicinity. Christmas Day. A lovely day. At 6.30 a.m. two patrols of two men each left for the Buffalo, one patrol to scout Rorke’s Drift and the other Fugitives’ Drift. At 8 a.m. Corporal Symons and I left for Strydom’s Farm to get a turkey, and after a long ride we arrived there and stayed for a while and had some tea and cake at W Adam, who lives a few yards off. The place is right at the foot of the Biggarsberg on the Ladysmith side. Just as we were leaving, unsuccessfully, we were called back – [and] told we could have a hen for 15/-. We took it and returned, reaching camp at 1 p.m.

The turkey was at once stuffed and cooked by Trooper Dubery, our cook, and a very good one too. A fowl was also roasted and at 5 p.m. we sat down to a grand spread, considering the time we had to get ready in. Turkey, fowl, pigs, cake, cheesecake, pineapples, raisins, almonds, gingernuts, jam tarts and plum puddings, one being from

Officers of the Volunteer Composite Regiment, 1900, with dog!


England by post to the OC (Lieutenant-Colonel RW Evans). We also had whisky, water, tea, wine and syrup (lemon).

Tuesday 1 January 1901Helpmekaar vicinity. So dawns another year in the Boer War, and may it soon end. A quiet day in camp for us. Usual patrols out to the Buffalo. The sports came off at Helpmekaar this afternoon, and our horses came first in one race and second in another.

Friday 4 January 1901Helpmekaar vicinity. Usual patrols out to the drifts. One of these patrols is to go into Zululand, unarmed, with a flag of truce, and try and get in touch with the Boers for the purpose of delivering Lord Kitchener’s proclamation (urging surrender) to them. Corporal (HE) Symons and (Trooper) TA Lewis are to go on this business and leave their arms at the river.

Saturday 5 January 1901Helpmekaar vicinity. A sangar was commenced today on top of [the] hill for us to use in case of necessity, and also for the guard, a new post having to be found, thus making things warm for us all, as we will only have one night in bed again. This new post will come into force in the next week if the sangar is finished. Corporal Symons returned this afternoon with Trooper Lewis and reported that he had failed to meet the Boers anywhere, so did not deliver the proclamation as ordered. He reported all clear at the drifts. Our ration wagon came out this evening from Dundee with rations.

Monday 7 January 1901Helpmekaar vicinity. At breakfast George Newlands and I were warned to pack our saddles and take two days rations with us on patrol to Waschbank Valley. A Mr Ashley is said to have reported Boers near his farm, so we are to try and find them. We left at 9.30 a.m. and passed Helpmekaar down the Itoleni Valley, so-called from the Itoleni Spruit, a tributary of the Waschbank. We made enquiries all over the place and also from all Natives moving along [the] road, but not one had heard or seen any Boers.

We passed Sandola Mountain on our right, and precisely at 7 p.m. reached Ashley’s, near the main NG Railway. No-one was at home except Natives, so George and I decided to sleep there as it was raining. We went on a kopje for a look round, and from there I went to a kraal for information. Just as I left it, up rode young Ashley from Ladysmith, and I went up to the house with him. He denied all knowledge of Boers, and also he knew nothing about the report sent to Dundee. We slept at this place (‘Acorn’) for the night.

Tuesday 8 January 1901Helpmekaar. George and I left Ashley’s at 7.45 a.m. and rode to Helpmekaar by the most direct road we could find. We had a long ride and reached Helpmekaar at 5 p.m., tired out. We received praise for the way we had done our work from the OC. On the way we off-saddled for two hours at kraals and had some food. Our fellows were busy building sangars, begun last week, when we got in rumours of a convoy going to Vryheid. These rumours turned out to be true, as just as we were having tea, we were suddenly warned to pack up and be ready to leave at 7 a.m. for Dundee.

Thursday 10 January 1901Dundee. Saddled up 5.30 a.m., left at 6 a.m. We rode out about a mile (1,6 km) and


then waited for [the] convoy. When it started three others were sent out one mile (1,6 km) on the left flank with orders to guard the flank of the advance. At Gregory’s Nek a long halt was made to allow the convoy to come up. We reached De Jager’s at 2 p.m. and pitched camp. General Hildyard came down from up country and is going with us to Vryheid. He had four or five of our troop as escort.

Friday 11 January 1901De Jager’s Drift. Did not have a very pleasant guard as I had to keep pegging down the horses as the pegs kept coming out of the sand. We marched a little after 5.30 a.m. Our troop formed the scouts on the left flank of the centre. We reached Blood River safely, as did the convoy, but some of our Native scouts were fired on near Blood River in the morning. I am afraid we shall have some more warm work tomorrow at Scheeper’s Nek, at [the] same place as last time.

Saturday 12 January 1901De Jager’s Drift. Roused at 4.30 a.m. – left at six. The convoy left before us and crossed the river, and then massed in an oblong till the Nek was cleared. We then crossed the Blood River and advanced in skirmishing order as supports to the scouting line. The Native scouts were extended all along our front. As we approached, however, we could see our fellows already on the top, so today the Boers have decided not to oppose us. On the left flank, however, some smart sniping took place.

The convoy also came up and camped near us. In the afternoon about nine of us went over with some officers and put three wooden crosses over the graves of our two comrades who fell on Scheeper’s Nek, 16 (sic) December 1900. We also did up the grave and chopped the grass around it. I and three others were on sentry duty all the time in case of a sudden rush. We all returned at 4 p.m. to camp. Very strong picquets were thrown out all round as rumours of a night attack are about. After dark till about 11 p.m. it was nothing but be in readiness for an attack and keep all accoutrements handy and sleep in your boots etc.

Sunday 13 January 1901Scheeper’s Nek. The rumoured night attack did not come off. We were roused at 5 a.m. and marched at 6.30 a.m. The VCR formed the centre line of advance scouts for most of the way to Vryheid and then faced north and took up a position guarding the left flank on a piece of rising ground, and two guns of the RFA supported us. There were a good many Boers galloping away along some trees, and a few shells were placed among them, adding to their speed a good deal. The convoy then passed into the town, and all the flankers [and] rearguards, except our troop, went into Vryheid.

Tuesday 15 January 1901Vryheid. We were roused at 5 a.m. and left at 6 a.m. The VCR formed the right flanking party. Colonel Evans commanded the main advance body. Arrived at the scene of our memorable fight on December 14th [and] we halted and dismounted. Before we moved on, our troop fenced in our comrades’ grave with barbed-wire brought from Vryheid. We then moved on in the same formation as before, our troop marching in skirmishing order.

Friday 18 January 1901Vant’s Drift and Helpmekaar. We saddled up today at 7.45 a.m. and left at 8 a.m. for


Helpmekaar. We halted for an hour at [the] foot of Vermaak’s Farm and cooked coffee etc. We reached Helpmekaar at 11 a.m. and saw to our kit etc. All our spare things, such as candles, soap, curios, knives and forks etc, have been looted by the confounded Tommies, who are worse than Boers. Our spare things were all nailed down and labelled, so they had no excuse. They also stole five or six books of mine which I rather valued, one being a present to me at Xmas. Our kitbags, being locked and put in a house over at Helpmekaar, were not touched. I will not trust soldiers again for some time, I can assure you.

Sunday 20 January 1901Helpmekaar. I went on patrol with Sergeant (JP) Haine to Fugitive’s Drift. From there I walked about four hundred yards to the spot where Melville (also spelt Melvill) and Coghill died in 1879 whilst trying to save the Queen’s Colours of their regiment. It is a wild and rugged spot, a fitting surrounding to so heroic a sacrifice. We reached Helpmekaar at 5 p.m., having seen nothing.

Monday 21 January 1901Helpmekaar. Usual patrols out to the drifts. About 10.30 a.m. all private horses were brought in and insured. Some high values were placed on horses which have not done much in the line of work for some time, but because they were fat and bulky, 30 pounds (£30) was put down for them, while good horses were put down for £25 and £27. My horse, ‘Charlie’, was insured for £20, or valued I should say, as no premiums are paid. This sum is below his value as he has been a good little horse to me. (Colonial volunteers during this period were called upon to provide their own horses, which were then insured against loss in action or from disease.)

Wednesday 6 February 1901Helpmekaar. We left for Dundee at 10 a.m., and after a long and tiring ride arrived there at 4 p.m. We pitched tents for a camp and slept in them. We shall be here a few days and then go to Vryheid with a convoy, and from there up-country with General French. Any amount of rumours are knocking about and if we were to believe half of what we hear, the war would be over in a very short time.

Thursday 7 February 1901Dundee. A busy day for us in the shape of parades galore for saddlery and equipment inspection. We also had arms inspected, and ammunition, so as to be ready to march at a moment’s notice. We were also told that we should get magazine rifles tomorrow at 11 a.m. in place of our own. (Nicholson is probably referring to the Lee-Metford Mark I cavalry carbine, which had been in British Army Service for some years. To date in the diary he never specifies the weapon he used, but it was most likely the Martini-Metford cavalry carbine Mark III. The new rifles did not arrive on schedule.)

Sunday 10 February 1901Gregory’s Farm. We were roused about 5 a.m. and were ready to march at 6 a.m. for De Jager’s, when suddenly orders were received for the VCR to go back to Dundee and await marching orders up country. We reached Dundee at 9.30 a.m. We were all fallen in at 10 a.m. and marched up to the Orderly-Room to receive magazine rifles, but when we got there found that they were old and condemned, so we did not get them and marched back to camp disgusted at so much unnecessary work, when one look would


have been quite enough to condemn them. Our orders tonight are to march tomorrow morn at 10 a.m. for some unknown spot. Rumour says Utrecht and Newcastle.

Monday 11 February 1901Dundee. Very busy morning making final preparations for the march. Colonel Evans made us a speech when we had mounted and fallen in, expressing pleasure at us all being together again. He said as we were going to fight, he hoped we would fight like devils.

We left punctually at 9.30 a.m., and at the railway (station) we got the new magazine rifles of the latest pattern. This caused some delay but we finally got off.

Tuesday 12 February 1901Dundee. At 5.30 a.m. we all left for Utrecht. After a long while, owing to the bad drifts, we then advanced on until we got within a mile (1,6 km) of Utrecht, when we again halted, as the column was a bit behind. When it came up we all moved on and got into the town at 3.30 p.m. We at once pitched tents as it threatened rain, but it came to nothing after all. Late in the evening we suddenly got orders to leave at 6 a.m. tomorrow morn and leave all tents etc, also spare blankets. We have to carry one blanket, but some of us are not doing so as a greatcoat is enough on this job.

Thursday 14 February 1901Utrecht district. At 4 a.m., 12 men, including myself, were roused and set off at 4.30 a.m. on a patrol. It was very misty and this increased our danger immensely. Some Dragoons who were also out, nearly ran into us and we nearly mistook them for the enemy, they coming up behind us. We marched on together and after a little while we separated, and the Dragoons took the Vryheid road and we took the Wakkerstroom one. We advanced steadily on and every ridge was searched by one or two men before we advanced over it. In this way we went about four miles (6,4 km) and then halted as it was too misty and dangerous, as well as out of our area.At noon a strong patrol of all our squadron, except those who had been out in the morning, and Dragoons, went out and speedily became engaged on the right of the Wakkerstroom road and the Luneberg road. A series of little skirmishes took place and the Boers did

The hardworking horses of a Volunteer Composite Regiment column enjoy a rest somewhere in northern Natal.


their best to nab our men, but owing to our side being well handled, they failed. Towards evening our men withdrew to camp without any casualties at all.

Friday 15 February 1901Utrecht district. At 12.15 p.m. prompt our horses were ordered in and we all saddled up. At 1 p.m. we marched out in a north-easterly direction. We advanced from ridge to ridge, expecting to see the Boers any minute. At every ridge two or three men would be sent on to see if all was clear before we all advanced. I had my share with the rest. It is a very unpleasant duty, as one man dismounts and goes over the top while the other holds his horse.

We soon got to the valley of the Blood River source (Blood River Poort?). From our position we soon opened fire on one or two Boer sentries and scouts. The Maxim also tried out, but the range was really too far to be effective. On the left flank some shells soon cleared out the enemy. The convoy halted after a few miles for the night. We retired also, [but] not before the Boers had had a shot at us.

Saturday 16 February 1901Utrecht district. A quiet day in camp owing to the thick mist and drizzle. Constant patrols out, on one of which I was a member. All our blankets are wet through and we have no tents at all to cover us, so we are like drowned rats. On the patrol I went on we passed a Boer house with the white flag and some women in it. As I was sent forward to search the place, I soon had my rifle loaded, besides the usual reserve of 10 (rounds) in the magazine. Nothing happened, however, and we all came off safely. The rifles we have now are very good and we all like them. They are the latest issue with safety clip and 10 cartridges in the magazine as a reserve.

Thursday 21 February 1901Utrecht district. Dawn broke in a ceaseless rain. Our squadron left on outlying picquet at 6.30 a.m. The sluits and the Pongwe Spruit were very full and the last only fordable, being up the saddle flaps. We moved on and came to a farmhouse about 200 yards from the road. Here we spread out in open order and advanced on the house which had the white flag flying. Five men had already occupied some rising ground on the right, ready for eventualities. However, all went well and we dismounted for a short time. When this weather will cease cannot be guessed, as no signs can be observed, as in other parts of the country. It looks quite clear one minute and the next it pours again.

It came on a very heavy rain about 5 p.m. and we all spent a very miserable night. George (his friend, George Newlands, probably) and I managed to get under a transport wagon but found it floating in water! I had just gone to bed and [was] nearly asleep, when a soldier suddenly got on the wagon and lifted the sail. The water just poured in and wet all my coverings, so the night I spent is better imagined than described.

Saturday 23 February 1901Utrecht district. No. 2 and 4 (Squadrons) left at 8.30 a.m. to escort about 20 wagons with rations to the drift at Chaka Spruit. I could not go, owing to the rain and riding having given my horse a very nasty sore back, and no remounts are to be had at present. For a marvel today is fine and no-one can estimate what the sun is to anyone unless he has been through such weather as we have had. Constant rain and mist for seven days and eight nights, during which we were always riding on patrols etc. and bringing up


wagons or despatches. To add to our discomforts, none of us had any tents, so we had to shift as well as we could every night.

This afternoon those who had horses unfit were fallen in and each horse inspected. If they [were] bad the horse was handed in to a depot, but if [they are] getting well and only temporarily unfit, they had to be kept, as well as the remounts which were now sent for. After a deal of bother, we caught the required number – 28. These were then issued irrespective of what the few men who had all the trouble, had selected for themselves. This caused a bit of murmuring, but duty, however hard, must be obeyed. It was late before we got them branded and fed.

Tuesday 26 February 1901Utrecht district. Today we saw for the first time in this war a looting corps of 28 men called Loxton’s Horse. They keep 75% of all they can loot, receiving no pay. This is a big shame as we who have been out 17 months cannot keep a horse, even if we catch them, and these men only follow us when we have cleared the country, like a lot of jackals. The country is very good stock country, but like Richmond, abounds in ticks.

Wednesday 27 February 1901Utrecht district. A fine day. This is Amajuba Day, the turning point in the war last year when Cronje surrendered and Ladysmith was practically relieved. To remind us of those bygone days, it seems, we are now on half rations of biscuit and half rations in groceries such as sugar etc., so our coffee is very seldom sweetened. We hear that they are to be still further reduced. Of course, we are allowed to pick mealies whenever possible, and kill sheep if required, so we fare quite as well as usual.

Friday 1 March 1901Utrecht district. Dawn broke misty and damp. We spent one of the most miserable nights of the whole campaign, rainy nights included. This was owing to the silly ideas of our officers, who kept sending out men to scout while it was so dark that one could barely see five yards. They soon got lost to us, and at last we had only four men left, all the rest being out looking for each other. I caught a bad cold last night, so my thoughts are pretty hard on our officers.

Tuesday 5 March 1901Utrecht district. Reveille for our squadron at 4.45, [the] remainder at 5 a.m. This was because our squadron had to leave on outlying picquet. We all left at 5.30 a.m. for five different posts, with six or seven men at each. Our post was Gun Hill (not the Ladysmith one, of course), but owing to the mist being so thick, we failed to find it as we had never been there before, so we got to some hill or other at 10 a.m. We did not ride all the time, however, as we halted at a kopje about three miles (4,8 km) from camp and waited for the mist to lift. But when we found out that the mist would not lift, we moved on as best we could and succeeded in striking some high ground which some picquet had used before, so we halted and off-saddled for the day, as it was absolutely useless to try and find our right post.

To add to our discomfort, a sharp drizzle came on now and then. Luckily I found four sheep, of which we killed one and let the others go. Having got some fencing poles, we soon had a good roast on the fire and some coffee. Water was a bit of trouble to find as we could only see a few yards. Our horses also kept disappearing in the mist and we


had to be constantly on the move to prevent losing them. No outpost could be placed, however, so we spent the day round the fire and against rocks. At 4.15 pm we saddled up and left for camp, which we reached after a long ride and as nearly as possible losing our way more than once. We are now getting three biscuits a day (barely), and if it were not for mealies etc we would feel very hungry. It rained a good bit during the night, but as I was under cover I did not mind it so much as the last spell.

Saturday 9 March 1901Utrecht district. For a wonder dawn broke fine, [and] a lovely day was the result. Last night I was unable to find my horse, but this morn he turned up on his own and saved me some trouble, as I would have had to look for him on foot. At 7 a.m. all available men left on duty to destroy Dutch crops etc. When we had gone about four miles (6,4 km) the BMR squadron took two wagons and skirted the hills to the left, visiting two or three farms and doing as much damage as possible to crops, wagons etc.

Our squadron, or what is left of it, went north and after crossing two very bad spruits, in one of which the wagon went nearly under, we reached A. Potgieter’s farm and at once set to work. It appears that the women and one or two old men had refused to go in to Utrecht as ordered, but as soon as they saw us piling up their belongings to burn, they cleared out in double-quick time to save them. Meanwhile two fatigues were on – one with the Natives, on which I was put, was engaged in cutting down mealies just below the cob. We managed to finish two big fields of good mealies during the day.

The other fatigue had to destroy wool and burn a wagon. The privileged ones or the stripes (NCOs) had their pick of the house (for purposes of looting?) as soon as the people had left it. At 1 p.m. about eight of us, among whom were no less than five men with stripes, left for another farm belonging to Andries Potgieter. Here young Mont-gomery and I burnt a wagon after some hard work to get it started. The poor woman burst into tears and pleaded with Captain Crompton that their husbands would come in at once and surrender if we would save their wagon. Duty is inexorable, however, and we had to burn the wagon.

This war is indeed a terrible one and will now get worse as it drags on and on. (Nicholson’s comments on this day are probably his most poignant on the traumatic impact of the scorched-earth policy, on both Boer civilians and British and colonial troops.) We returned to camp at 5 p.m., tired out.

Sunday 10 March 1901Utrecht district. Dawn broke again in a pouring rain. It seems to rain for ever in this wonderful country. No attack was made by the Boers, however, for which we were not sorry as we got very little sleep last night. We all remained just under the hill all day and got some fires going. The rain kept on all day and we got very wet and miserable as our squadron wagons did not come up owing to the bad roads. We have to sleep at the foot of the hill tonight as best we can.

Wednesday 13 March 1901Utrecht district. The state of the saddlery, boots, clothing etc of the men is terrible. Most of us have no change to put on and no dubbin can be procured in this out of the way place. The health of the men is wonderful considering, but of course it is only afterwards that we will feel the effects of this long spell of wet weather. The horses are all tucked up as it has been a pretty cold as well as wet spell of weather, and they have also been


on half rations of oats.

Friday 15 March 1901Utrecht district. During my beat of horse-guard some heavy rifle fire was going on to the south-east of Pivaan’s Poort. It appears about 10 or 12 VCR exceeded their orders, which were to take a convoy to Pivaan’s Poort and return scouting along the east of the road. It appears they went too far east to a farmhouse where a trap was laid for them. They called at the house and a Boer woman gave them a drink. They then passed on and no sooner did they get away from the house than a heavy rifle fire was opened on them at close range, but by a miracle none were hit. They galloped off for all they were worth, two falling from their horses or being thrown.

Monday 18 March 1901Utrecht district. Our troop went on top of the Elandsberg as usual for the day. No.1 Troop is in reserve and keep their horses in as we had to yesterday. It is a shame as our poor horses are practically starving, what with small feeds and hard work every day, added to this whenever we do have a day in, the horses are left tied up all day. At 10 a.m. we were all marched over to the VCR headquarters’ south line of defence for orders to be read to us. The orders were general orders, such as care in killing of sheep, as some fellows kill more than they can tackle. Also an order was read to us forbidding all looting from now for which I am glad as it is a blow to the clique in our troop which could get leave to go looting whenever they pleased. All the horses looted so far have to be handed in to be sent to Utrecht or Knight’s Farm.

Two VCR were captured yesterday about two or three miles (3,2 to 4,8 km) from here. They went out at 12 to relieve two others who went out in the morning. As it happened the first two who left early went to a different place to the usual one, and either went to sleep or were in a hole instead of a place where they could see, as they never saw their relief come up or the Boers in waiting for them. After taking them three miles (4,8 km) they (the Boers) released them and allowed them to come back to camp. They said they would fight for ever and their children after them.

Saturday 23 March 1901Utrecht district. Reveille at 5 a.m. I was on last shift horse-guard from 2.50 to 5 a.m. It was very chilly on guard. I did not spend a very nice night last night as I had only a greatcoat and waterproof to lie on and the ground was a bit hard. A general move was made at 7 a.m. The naval long-range gun and No.4 Squadron, also all the infantry, went by the Pivaan’s Poort road. Meanwhile the remainder of the VCR left by a road skirting Tabankulu, a big mountain to the west of Elandsberg and running right away to Wakkerstroom. We then advanced in a westerly direction towards some farmhouses. After crossing some very rough ground covered with big boulders and nasty spruits, we reached the ridge just at the foot of the mountain. While crossing one of the bad spruits my remount hurt his leg and became quite lame. The scouts advanced meanwhile and descended on to the flat. I forgot to mention that the last ridge had a white flag on it and as Corporal (WH) Ladds and I were advance men for our troop, I did not at all relish the job of riding up, dismounting and creeping up to ridge after ridge alternately with my comrade. However no treachery was intended and the BMR reached the house safely. Here they found a Boer family who wished to surrender. Every preparation was made for them to leave.


To return to the scouts. They soon got out on the flat and were passing under the hill when suddenly flip-flop went the familiar Mauser and they had five shots fired at them from the rocks and bushes in the hillside. They at once retired and the two 15-pounders on our left came into action at once. Some smart shelling took place but not many good shots. We all got well out on to the flat when suddenly a hot fire was opened on us. We all got a move on and kept up a smart pace, bullets striking all round.

We all joined the troop and gave our horses to a man to hold and then advanced to

the ridge to cover the road over which the Boer family which had surrendered would come. When they came the Boers at once opened a heavy fire on the escort which we did our best to keep down. However the wagons and escort came through alright. As the Boer position was tremendously strong and we could not reach the second house, a general retirement was ordered, the guns going first and the mounted troops last. The retirement was well carried out, each troop covering the retreat of the other by holding ridge after ridge.

Sunday 24 March 1901Scheeper’s Nek. All Natives cleared out of camp to Dundee with spare horses. Only high rank[ing] NCOs can keep boys (servants) now. At 7 a.m. we all received a free issue of khaki serge slacks, boots and tunics, and putties. This is in place of our own which are showing signs of wear and tear caused by the last heavy rains, very badly so. A few of us also got saddles to use in place of our own which have been condemned. We are to hand them back at [the] end of [the] war. All old saddles exchanged are handed in. At 10 a.m. sharp we saddled up and moved off.

Monday 25 March 1901Scheeper’s Nek. Marched at 6.30. Our squadron left a little later as they were rearguard, so we amused ourselves by burning a wagon left by our men in exchange for a good Dutch one. We also searched the camp. At 7.30 we moved off and marched in an extended line as far as the kopje we occupied yesterday. At nearly every farm smoke

One of the grimmest aspects of the guerrilla phase of the Anglo-Boer War in northern Natal: a VCR patrol burns a Boer farmhouse.


could be seen rising up. This was from wagons which are also burnt as they are property of burghers on commando. At one house I saw three all burning at once. Carriages are also destroyed.

Saturday 30 March 1901Vryheid. We marched at 5.40 a.m. as advance guard and support to the guns. We crossed the Blood River by the new temporary road bridge in place of the one blown up. We advanced about a mile (1,6 km) when the guns halted on a rise behind which the whole convoy came up and outspanned for a time. At 9 a.m. we all advanced and the Native scouts took the lead.

Here a general halt was called to allow the wagons to park up and outspan for two or three hours. At 2 p.m. a move was made. During the halt a few of us managed to cook two kettles of tea which went down ‘A1’. Our troop took up a more central line for the remainder of the day, being scouts for the guns which were now the main body, and flankers on the left, having been replaced by two guns in front. We reached Vryheid about 5 p.m. having met no opposition. The convoy consisted of about 160 wagons.

Sunday 31 March 1901Vryheid. After breakfast I went down and had a bath in the Umfolosi (Mfolozi) with three or four of my mess. We intended going up the town in the afternoon and having a look at the church which is a beautiful one, but orders were suddenly received to march at 2.50 p.m. with the convoy for Blood River. This spoilt our plans and we at once packed our blankets and tents. We kept advancing and holding a ridge then halting to allow the convoy to get on ahead. On the way we picked up some lucerne which had been dropped to lighten a wagon. Each man carried a feed for his horse and a comic figure we cut, each with a bundle of lucerne in front of us. There would have been a very sudden throwing down if the Boers had been anywhere near.

Monday 1 April 1901Vryheid district. All Fools day. A good many men were caught in the various traps set for them so as to make April Fools of them. We left camp at 7 a.m. for De Jager’s Drift. Our squadron [was] advance guard. I was told off for Colonel Evans’ orderly with two others. Colonel Evans went up to the VCR camp [at] Rooikopjes, where No. 2 and 4. Squadrons are stationed. He stayed there till 9.30 a.m. during which time he off-saddled as we also did. On moving off we soon overtook the convoy. Here the Colonel said he had no more need of us and of course the Regimental S[sergeant] Major, with remarkable fairness mind you, tells us to join the rearguard and not our own troops as a man with any gumption would have. Another thing – he stopped me whistling a popular air with the remark, ‘This is not a travelling band’. By these little things you know a man. Such are the stripes in some cases completely spoiling a man.

Wednesday 3 April 1901De Jager’s Drift. I did not spend a very nice night last night as there were only three of us which made the shifts long and it also rained heavily all night. My beat was from 10 to 12 and 3 to 4 a.m., this being the beat for second shift which I drew. However, when we came off each shift we had a kafir-hut to sleep in by luck as our post was at a kraal, so although we lost the benefit of six men being on, as was the case at the next post, still we made up for it by sleeping dry. The convoy moved along alright and outspanned on


the Nek half way between De Jager’s and Blood River.We also halted and tried to boil a kettle but owing to the damp weather and shortness

of wood we failed utterly. This country is not blessed with much in the shape of fire-wood and we miss our tea very much, as sometimes we are in the saddle from dawn till sunset with only a cup of coffee and a biscuit before we start. This is all we get unless we make a lengthy halt to enable us to get firewood which is not often procurable. We reached camp at 5 pm, tired and hungry.

Sunday 14 April 1901Vryheid. Reveille 5.30. At 9 a.m. we left, our troop or squadron being advance scouts. We moved out at a smart pace and kept well ahead of the convoy. We arrived on the Nek about noon and halted till the convoy came up. As it outspanned for two hours we had time to cook some tea. We then left about 3 p.m. and reached Blood River camp about 4.50 p.m. Just before we got there I had a nasty spill, my first, and I hope my last, on the campaign. It happened that as I was riding a Government remount and he put one foot in a hole and went over like a dying horse and nearly crushed me. I had my side a bit hurt but luckily no further injuries. We camped with the wagons as usual.

Wednesday 24 April 1901Dundee. A quiet day till the afternoon. At 2.30 p.m. we saddled up our horses. The order was full marching order. We moved out to the north of camp and were put through different formations of drill. We then formed a long line and the colonel started to inspect us. He passed about two men and then dismissed the whole parade in disgust, as owing to there being no definite order as to the articles we were to carry, some men did not even bring any of the most necessary articles.

Thursday 25 April 1901Dundee. A quiet day. At 10 a.m. the squadron officers held a heavy marching order inspection. That is [when] we put all the articles needed on a sheet with our saddlery. This

Rations were never sufficient. Corporal JB Nicholson and companions digging for potatoes.


is instead of the parade dismissed yesterday and saves us from a parade tomorrow.

Saturday 27 April 1901Dundee. We had the usual parade of horses for exercise at 10 a.m. At orders yesterday all ideas of disbandment were knocked on the head by Colonel Evans who had seen General Dartnell about us. We are too valuable to be disbanded.

Thursday 2 May 1901Dundee. At 10.30 a.m. I went up to the Wesleyan Church and after some hard work put the church straight again. I then went up town to get a few groceries for my mess and called on my way and had a cup of tea at Mrs Dicks where I spent an enjoyable half-hour. In the evening I went to see the Bioscope with Trooper Stutters and enjoyed it very much. (Motion picture photography was still in its infancy, but these films shown here could have been taken by WKL Dickson, who wrote an account of his experiences with a ‘biograph’ on the Natal front.) The pictures seemed very real and lifelike, especially the war pictures such as moving a 4.7 gun (a British 4,7 inch naval gun) across a river.

Saturday 4 May 1901Scott’s Ridge, Dundee district. The night passed off quietly and no Boers turned up to molest us at the wagons. The Natives all round the wagons were sleeping there for fear of the Boers and we had some fun chasing one and two whom we took to be spies. We retired to camp at dawn. Here we had a lot of fatigues, what with fetching our tents and those of the officers and then going for firewood at a Dutch house, which by the way, was badly knocked about (i.e. looted and stripped) in getting the wood.

Thursday 9 May 1901Dundee. A fine day. Late yesterday evening a report came in to say a body of Boers were going to make a raid on the (this, the Natal side?) side of the Buffalo. We all saddled up in readiness for a move and 12 men, a non-com, and Lieutenant Montgomery, went out to the Jew’s store to protect it. The remainder all took up positions on the kopje and did extra picquets in case of the Boers attacking. The only sounds to be heard were four explosions at the Duttley Mine where they were blasting for coal. The night past off quietly however and we returned to camp. The usual patrols left at the usual time for De Jager’s and Vant’s Drifts and came back in the afternoon.

Friday 10 May 1901Dundee. We had a quiet day in camp today. The usual patrols went out to the railhead (this was at De Jager’s Drift) and Vant’s Drift. They came in and reported all clear. An observation post is found daily above camp of three men. There are two picquets of three men each and a horse-guard formed every night. Two of these post patrols and one does observation.

Sunday 12 May 1901Dundee. We had the first frost this morn. It was cold last night and my feet got like icicles when I was on guard. At 9 in the morn, after we had packed our blankets in readiness to move our camp, the patrols saddled up. One of them of which I was in charge went to Landtman’s Drift (on the Buffalo/Mzinyathi River east of Vryheid). We off-saddled there for two hours and waited for the De Jager’s patrol which came at noon. We then saddled up and returned. Meanwhile our camp had been shifted to Malonjeni, a post to


the south of the Vant’s Drift road, so we had a longer ride than usual.I nearly had a bad smash today as my horse, who is a bit obstinate, after a bit of

messing about, suddenly took the bit between his teeth and galloped to the top of a stony kopje. How he got up is a marvel to me, as well as why I did not fall off as I had two guns in my hands. Luckily I managed to stick on and after that he was much quieter. A nasty west wind kept up all day and was bad tonight. The camp is better than the last one, being a little more sheltered and near good water.

Friday 17 May 1901Dundee. A quiet day. Levelled our beds down as they were very uncomfortable owing to the slope. About 2 p.m. Trooper (J) Cross suddenly arrived with a despatch ordering us to pack our kit-bags and be ready to move to Zululand. We at once got to work and packed all our kit but for once we had luck and slept in our camp instead of moving that night. We move tomorrow about 8.30 a.m. on route to Zululand on a reconnaissance or something.

Sunday 19 May 1901Dundee and Nqutu. Reveille 5.15 a.m. Coffee up 5.30. We left at 6.15 a.m. At first it was not very cold but as we moved along a cold wind sprang up and gave us fits. After a long canter or two, with a walk now and then, we reached Nqutu at 9.30 a.m. Here we off-saddled and had breakfast and dinner. We move at dusk tonight for Nondweni, as far as I can gather to take up some position while Major Chapman tries to corner up some Boers against us. He is operating from Nkandhla. We shall have a very cold ride. At 5 p.m. we got the order to saddle up and marched at 5.30 p.m. It was bitterly cold during our ride. We reached our camp near the Enterprise GM Company (Gold Mining and Prospecting Syndicate established in about 1893) at 11.15 p.m. Most of us did but did not spend a very pleasant night as reveille was at 5 a.m. and we only got about three hours sleep.

Monday 20 May 1901Nqutu. Our squadron was advance scouts and left at 6.30 a.m. No.1 Troop of our squadron was extended on our front and our troop was in support. About 2 p.m. our squadron crossed the Umfolosi, which by the way is nothing but a quicksand just here. Lieutenant Montgomery led the way across and had to dismount in the water as his mare had got bogged. We then moved on in skirmishing order, and having reached a kopje we hid ourselves on the crest overlooking a bridle-path used by the Boers in going and coming from Babanango. Here we lay all the afternoon, our horses being hidden away, but no Boers turned up so at dusk we returned to camp.

Wednesday 22 May 1901Nqutu. Marched at 8 a.m. Last night about 16 men of our squadron, all out of No.1 Troop and some of Captain Gold’s men, left at 8.30 p.m. to search some Boer farms. They went to about three houses but, except a few women, found nothing in the Boer line. They were out all night and destroyed some mealies at each house. Our troop was advance scouts for the day. Our route lay along the Itotyotsi (Tshotshosi) River for some distance and a halt was made for a couple of hours near the spot where the gallant Prince Imperial fell in 1879 (during the Anglo-Zulu War).

The place is walled in with stones and is beautifully kept. Ornamental trees and shrubs


are planted tastefully round. Here we were rejoined by the men who had been out all night searching Boer farms. After a long and roundabout route we reached Nqutu at 4 p.m., tired and hungry. One of the heaviest frosts I have seen fell this morn where we slept. All our blankets etc were white and seemed as if they were covered with snow.

Thursday 23 May 1901Nqutu. Marched at 8 a.m. After a smart journey we reached Vant’s Drift where we halted for three hours and had some food and coffee. At 1 p.m. we saddled up and moved off on the Dundee road. We halted at the foot of Malonjeni Mountain for the night. At 3.40 p.m. we all fell in and Colonel Evans thanked us for the way in which we had worked together on this trip to Nondweni. It seems the Boers had intended a raid into Zululand or Umvoti County and this move was to prevent this. Meanwhile by a night march on Sunday May 19th, our little column had thrown itself on the Boer line of retreat.

I was put on horse-guard for the night. My beats were from 7 to 9 p.m. and from 1 to 2.40 p.m. At 8.00 p.m. three shots were suddenly fired by Colonel Evans as a false alarm. At once our troop advanced in skirmishing order, the other troop saddled up and so on all round the square. Some amusing scenes were seen, some men ran out without their boots and some without coats. Some thought it was a reality. The colonel came round on horseback and complimented us on our turnout. There was very little grum-bling although a lot of men were already asleep. It was recognized as a very needful experiment considering the terrible nature of a night attack.

Friday 24 May 1901Vant’s Drift. Reveille 6 a.m. We marched at 8 a.m. Our squadron separated from the rest and marched to Malonjeni, the rest going along the Dundee road. Colonel Evans wished us a pleasant time and hoped we would see plenty of Boers. Re-pitched our tents on [an] old camp site. No patrols out. The day passed off quietly. At 9.30 p.m. about 20 or 30 Boers crossed the Natal border and raided Smullian’s store (a Jew) about two miles (3,2 km) from here. They did not stay long and only took a few things out of the store, but took four post-cart horses along with them, it being a post-cart outspan. We got up at once and saddled up. About midnight we moved off, and after a terrible climb down a boulder strewn hill, during which we nearly broke our necks, we reached the store too late to be of any use.

However we followed on their track at a fast canter in which it was a marvel we did not break our necks as the ground was very rutty and broken. We reached the Buffalo at Lafne’s Drift. We then crossed the river and went about four miles (6,4 km) inland. No trace of the Boers however, so we went to a kopje not far off and tried to sleep with our horses linked up and ready saddled. The usual precautions were taken in the way of picquets. It was now 4 a.m. We only had greatcoats and some had none at all, so we did not get much sleep as our feet were like icicles.

Saturday 1 June 1901De Jager’s Drift. Saddled up at 6.30. Every chance of seeing the enemy if they only stand. A fire was burning on Scheeper’s Nek last night and did not go out. Our squadron furnished 30 men as support to two guns on the left flank. Some of the Hussars also on the left. No.3 Squadron furnished the advance scouts. The scouts gradually advanced but the enemy showed no signs as yet. On the left we were ordered to scout for the guns instead of supporting them. Half of us were in front and the other half supported us. As


we advanced we could see No.3 (Squadron) gradually gained the top of the ridge and still the enemy did not show up having as usual retired on a better position. On the left we also reached the top without opposition.

Here a halt was made while the convoy came up. Lieutenant Montgomery sent me back to the guns to report all clear on the left and they then came on. When I rejoined Mr Montgomery, he sent me to Captain Crompton, OC VCR (perhaps in a temporary capacity, as Lieutenant-Colonel Robert Evans still held the substantive post), and told me to report all clear on the left, and get leave for a wagon and water-cart to come over to the scene of our skirmish last December. The wagon had a tombstone and cement for the grave of our comrades lost on the 14th December 1900 (Corporal Peter Comrie and Trooper G McKellar).

After a time we arrived at our destination which was held by 30 men who were with Lieutenant Montgomery. Outposts were placed all round on the most prominent ridges and the remainder helped to offload the stone etc. Two or three men who had a little experience in building at once set to work and erected the stone. The water was drawn from the water-cart for mixing the cement and sand. After some hard work the job was finished and looked very nice. The inscription read as follows:

In Loving MemoryErected by their comrades

of Corporal P Comrie NC aged 52 and Trooper G McKellar NC aged 20 of the Volunteer Composite Regiment.

Killed in action on this spot Dec 14th 1900 whilst gallantly opposing an attack on a convoy to Vryheid.

The grave has kept very well, having hardly altered since the day of the fight.

Sunday 2 June 1901Vryheid. It was a bitterly cold day all day and in the morn it was so terribly cold that very few men except those for duty got up. Two observation posts were found by the VCR to the south and east of camp. They left at 6.30 a.m. and were relieved at 1 p.m. Each post had three men and a corporal. About 30 men and 2 guns went out with two wagons to get coal a few miles out. A few Boers were seen but a few shells dispersed them. They had a few shots at our men but at too great a range to be effective. However our men did not get any coal as it was too hard to get at owing to the steep hill it was in.

They returned about 2 p.m. and I managed to get a piece of zinc or galvanised iron and this broke the strength of the wind a good bit. The wind gradually fell as night ap-proached but it still remained very cold. Tomorrow we leave for Blood River early.

Tuesday 4 June 1901Vryheid. Moved off at 6.40. The convoy had left earlier to enable it to cross the river in time. It parked up just across the river till we came over and then it moved on. Our troop was on the left flank and No.1 Troop of our squadron was reserve in the centre. It was a very cold morning with a white frost and our hands and feet got quite painful. At our first short halt we found some rubbish and soon had it blazing and in this way we got our hands and feet fairly warm. About 9.30 a.m. the convoy outspanned till 11 a.m. when we moved off again. During our halt we cooked some cocoa. As we approached De Jager’s the half sections gradually closed in until we were all together again. We then moved on slowly with halts here and there to allow the wagons to come up, and


reached De Jager’s about 3.30 p.m. We off-saddled on the Dundee side of the river in the sandiest spot the officers could pick. The latest is our squadron is going to Nqutu to be stationed there.

Monday 10 June 1901Dundee. I got up at 7 a.m. and spent a busy day doing shopping etc for my comrades and myself. The convoy left early for De Jager’s. At 2 p.m. the VCR stationed at Dundee and round about left Dundee for De Jager’s under command of Captain Crompton. At 3 p.m. I left Dundee for De Jager’s with our post and arrived at our camp across the Buffalo about 5.15 p.m. Three oxen were killed on Gregory’s Nek owing to a brake on a wagon smashing and the wagon, which was going down a steep incline, ran over the oxen.

Thursday 13 June 1901Vryheid. Our orders last night were to stay a day in Vryheid, but owing to Boers threatening a raid on Natal we were ordered to leave at 8 a.m. today. Moved off at 8 a.m. Our squadron was main guard and marched along the road. We reached the Nek unmolested and the convoy outspanned so we off-saddled. Of course the advance scouts remained out in front saddled up. At 2.30 p.m. we moved on and reached the Blood River about 4 p.m.

Friday 14 June 1901Blood River. The convoy moved on slowly and outspanned near the earthworks of the Dundee–Vryheid railway for about five hours. It then moved on and reached De Jager’s just before five p.m. The camp was across the river on the Natal side. It was a bit chilly as night fell. As we were rearguard we did not get to camp till late. Of all the tiring jobs rearguard caps the lot, especially for an ox-wagon convoy.

Wednesday 19 June 1901Vant’s Drift. We spent a rather nasty night last night as our wagons did not turn up with our blankets. Some of us had one blanket but a good many had only a greatcoat and a few had nothing at all, and sat up till about 12 midnight waiting for their blankets. My beat on picquet was from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m. and from 4.20 to 6 a.m., being the last shift. My feet got like icicles during my last shift. Our wagons turned up about 9 a.m. and we then fed our horses. It appears one (wagon) was upset and the other stuck in some rough ground along the road. At 10 a.m. we moved off.Thursday 20 June 1901Vant’s Drift. During the day our officers went out and selected a new camp to the south of the magistracy to which we moved at 3 p.m. Most of the chaps pitched tents, but our mess had been ordered to leave our tent at Malonjeni so we camped out in the open. However, as it was a damp night George and I slept in some other fellows’ tents. We are to get no bread here but we get biscuits one day and flour the next. How we are to bake the bread remains to be seen as we have no appliances to cook with.Friday 21 June 1901Vant’s Drift. The patrol went out and returned about noon not having met any Boers, but some were reported not far off. In the afternoon some shots were heard in the direction of the observation post and the OC, hearing it, thought the post was attacked. About twelve of us were ordered to saddle up at once and in running for my horse I stumbled and fell hurting my knee badly, and tearing my breeches badly at the knee.


However, in the excitement I refused to stop behind and get it dressed, and off we went at a gallop under Captain Crompton. After a long and hard gallop we reached the kopje and at once crept up to the top and surprised our own picquet which had been shooting rock-rabbits. They got a good telling off by the officer and then we returned to camp where I had my knee dressed.Saturday 22 June 1901Nqutu. Usual routine during the day. The patrol went out to [the] north of Nqutu as usual but did not see anything. After breakfast we got a lb (one pound or 0,5 kilograms) of flour each issued out to us and at once set to work to try and cook it. Lewis buried a biscuit tin in the earth leaving one side open for a door, and then, having collected a lot of cow-dung we set about making bread. Our first loaf was nearly burnt to a cinder and some others made bread which would have knocked a man down if struck with it. However, after a few trials we managed to do a bit better but still we are far from perfect.Sunday 23 June 1901Nqutu. About 9 p.m. last night some alarm was raised that the Boers were about to attack Nkandla, so to make sure of our safety in case they changed their minds and attacked us, two extra picquets were put on. Of course with my luck I was one of the men put on, and had to get ready just as I had decided to go to sleep. However no attack came off and we came back to camp at dawn. The patrol and observation post were delayed in going out owing to a mist on the hills. On their return they reported all clear. The day was a wonderfully warm day and every sign of a summer day was to be seen, even some thunder clouds began to show up to the west. In the evening a few of us met together in one of the tents and had a few hymns to the accompaniment of an accordion, and so passed a very pleasant evening.Monday 24 June 1901Nqutu. A quiet day in camp. Reveille was as usual at 6.30 a.m. and the usual daily routine was gone through. After breakfast we were all fallen in to see if our equipment was complete in the way of ammunition. We also requisitioned for anything we required. I got a box from home last night by a wagon from Dundee, so I had a slice of luck. Today we had biscuits for rations, flour being served alternately with the biscuits. In the afternoon a pretty good scratch team walked over to the infantry camp to play them a game of football. Our side got whipped by three to nil. Our men were outclassed a little by superior combinations but the (British) regulars indulged in a good deal of foul play much to the disgust of our men.Monday 1 July 1901Nqutu. The usual daily routine was gone through for the day. The patrol’s observation post returned to camp and reported all clear. About eight men of No.3 Squadron left here to reinforce the Vant’s Drift post owing to some of the men from that post being sent to occupy Rorke’s Drift. In the afternoon we had a very good football match between scratch teams of the VCR. My side won by three goals to one goal after a very good game. During the afternoon I was warned for horse-guard and managed to draw the third relief. George and I applied for leave some time ago to go down to the Richmond Show but at present our chances seem mighty low of getting it. The willing horse in this corps (i.e. the VCR) seems to do all the work, shirkers etc. get leave, also they seem to take what they like and never get run-in for it or anything else.


Thursday 4 July 1901Nqutu. At 10.30 a.m. the sports were commenced by the Trial Stakes which was won by ‘Thips’ and ‘Dandy’ (Lewis) coming second. The judge’s decision in this race was open to much grumbling as most of the onlookers declared ‘Dandy’ the winner and the rider of ‘Thips’ bumped Newlands riding ‘Dandy’, and although the judge warned Warr for bumping he still gave him the race, a most unfair decision. The race itself was a very good one indeed. The day passed off very well and some good races were run.

I entered old ‘Charlie’ in this but he had no chance and also got a bad start. Captain Woods won the individual tent-pegging with swords after a keen competition. Trooper Shaw won the competition for tilting-the-ring and cutting with sword at heads on posts. The sack race was run by Trooper Warr after an amusing race. The 100 yards Handicap (foot) was won by (JA) Mason (Sergeant) of our squadron.

Two accidents occurred during the day one of which might have been much worse. Johnnie Cummings (Trooper J) of our squadron was bucked off his own horse while riding behind Sergeant Ladds in the Fugitive Race. In the fall he unluckily broke his arm just above the wrist and this debarred him from all the foot events, in which he was a hot favourite. Luckily for him he broke his left arm and not his right. During the tent-pegging with swords Trooper Walker’s (No.3) horse bolted with him clean into a wire fence before he could stop it and gave him a nasty spill. A totalisator was run by Corporal (GL) Thompson on which I made 9/-, but of course had to pay 10/- for the entrance of my horse in the pony race.

A mule race was held in the sports and caused some laughter when one of the drivers fell over with a tremendous circus act. Some wits suggested when they saw him groan-ing and twisting on the ground, that he was working for a brandy, like the two first men who had spills. Two soldiers acted as clowns on mules and caused some laughter when they had a spill every few minutes.

Boer prisoners captured in one of the British military drives in northern Natal.


Wednesday 10 July 1901Nqutu. Reveille 6.30 a.m. My beat last night was from 12 to 2 a.m. and from 5 to 6.30 a.m. Towards morning it got much colder and my hands were like icicles. The Richmond Show comes off today. About midday the men who had been out all night returned having failed to see any Boers. They went out about 20 miles (32 km) and slept near Nkandi. The Boers are getting worse and worse as they think nothing of shooting Natives. The Boers seem to still maintain an obstinate resistance to all endeavour to bring an end to this dreary war.

Friday 12 July 1901Nqutu. The men for convoy duty were roused at 5.30 a.m. and saddled up at 6.15 a.m., leaving shortly afterwards. After going about eight miles (13 km) we halted and half of us off-saddled. At this place within four miles (6.4 km) of Vant’s Drift we waited till 3 p.m. before the convoy appeared. It seems that 40 wagons were kept waiting all day for six others which were late in leaving Dundee. Instead of sending the 40 straight off and the other six when the empties were returned; no the 40 must wait for the six. Mark the grand sense displayed by Colonial officers. Nqutu is connected by wire with Vant’s Drift, yet we must get up at 5.30 a.m. to ride eight miles (13 km) and sit down to wait till 3 p.m. Upon my word a boy of 12 could do better. This is not the first time some of our officers have distinguished themselves in this magnificent way. One often hears sarcastic remarks about military officers but in my opinion the colonials can produce some specimens to equal them.

Saturday 13 July 1901Nqutu. Twelve men were sent off first thing to bring in the six wagons which were left behind yesterday. They returned about 2 p.m. with the wagons. No attempt was made by the Boers to molest them although they were not far off. They could not screw up enough courage to attack the convoy. I was sent out on observation post and left at 8.30 a.m. with two others making to the south. Swarms of horses were driven in by Natives to the Magistracy during the day as a commandeering order had been issued.

Sunday 14 July 1901Nqutu-Vant’s Drift. Twenty five men, including myself, left at 7.30 to escort the empty wagons back to Vant’s Drift, also the commandeered remounts. About two miles (3,2 km) out the wagons outspanned for two hours. When the wagons halted we cooked some very good coffee and boiled a dozen eggs we had bought, and thus had a very good breakfast. At 11 a.m. the wagons moved off but no men came to meet us from Vant’s Drift till we reached the ridge within two miles (3,2 km) of the drift.

We waited on this ridge till the convoy had passed and then returned to camp at an easy pace. This convoy work is very trying work and very little is made of it in civil life, but at the same time it is one of the most trying duties of a soldier. We [are] to go to Isandlhwana (the site of the famous battle of 22 January 1879 during the Anglo-Zulu War) with three wagons to get the wood which is cut by Natives.

Monday 15 July 1901Nqutu. Saddled up at 8.30 a.m. and left for the wood with fifteen others under Lieutenant Barter. The road we took was past St Augustine’s Mission Station and Rorke’s Drift. Just before we reached the latter place we turned due east towards Isandhlwana. At


12 noon we outspanned for an hour and half at a little spruit about two miles (3,2 km) from Rorke’s Drift. (This is probably the Amazimyama.) At 1 p.m. we moved off and reached the spruit near Isandhlwana at 2.30 p.m. Here we found the wood ready cut and soon had it loaded up on the three mule-wagons we took with us. Meanwhile Lieutenant Barter had left to go and see the graves and battlefield. We left at 4 p.m. and went as far as Rorke’s Drift where we slept the night.

Thursday 18 July 1901Nqutu. Reveille 6.30 a.m. Last night an alarm took place in camp. It appears a cartridge went off in the dust-heap and the officers thought it was a signal of an attack. We were all turned out at once which was done pretty quickly. However, after a few minutes had passed and all remained quiet, Lieutenant Montgomery took George and I (sic) and went right round the posts to see if they knew of the source of the shot. Meanwhile the rest of the men were told to get back to bed and sleep ready for anything. The result of our investigations was that the cartridge had exploded in a dust-hole. I was on horse-guard also for the night, my beat being from 12 to 2.30 a.m. and from 5.10 a.m. to 6.30 a.m., so I did not have a very good night of it as the cartridge exploded at 10.40 and by the time I got to bed it was past 11 p.m., and at 12 I was roused to go on horse-guard.

Friday 19 July 1901Nqutu. At 9 a.m. five of us, including myself, under Sergeant Symons saddled up and left for Isandlwana with Colonel Evans. We took a bye-path led by a native scout who showed us the road which was only a bridle track. The colonel’s cart had meanwhile gone to Rorke’s Drift with our horse feed and one blanket and greatcoat per man, also the colonel’s kit. About 11.30 a.m. we reached the mission station near Isandlwana where we off-saddled for a couple of hours and had dinner which we carried.

After a ten-minute ride we reached the graves which are scattered far and wide as if the men when killed had been wandering about. As we approached the centre of the field they grew thicker and in one place where the final stand was made cairns lie thickly. Only two or three graves are distinguished by stones, one being young Blaikie (this was Trooper James Adrian Blaikie) of the Carbineers. A little care and the massacre of Isandhlwana would have been a glorious day for England’s arms, as the position could have been impregnable if the men had been drawn up in the famous hollow square of yore with the transport in the centre. The only consolation we can get is that our men died nobly and well, fighting to the last.

I was very much surprised to see that Natal has done nothing to honour her sons who fell on that dark day as no tablet – or stone – has been erected to their memory. (This oversight was to be corrected only in September 1907 when a memorial to the Carbineers was unveiled on the battlefield.) As we left the battlefield we saw a long string of graves leading away to Fugitive’s Drift (on the Mzinyathi/Buffalo River where survivors from the battle of Isandlwana crossed into Natal) which shows that some poor fellows broke away, among them being Lieutenants Coghill and Melvill who died to save the colours (the Queen’s Colour of the 24th Regiment) just across that drift. We reached Rorke’s Drift at 4.30 p.m. and off-saddled at Cummings Hotel where the colonel’s cart had outspanned.

Saturday 20 July 1901Rorke’s Drift. At dawn we left the drift after a most miserable and unsuccessful night.


No Boers came our way and the cold was simply unbearable. We had only one blanket and a great coat each, so could not get much warmth out of them. As soon as we got to bed one of the horses started plunging, and I had to get out of bed and go and see to them. At 1 a.m. we were roused as the sentry on duty said he heard some horses coming on the other side. However it was a false alarm, so what with this and the cold we spent a most lively night. After some breakfast there I went over and got two men to go on towards Dundee with the colonel’s cart and he left shortly afterwards as we did also for Nqutu.

Sunday 21 July 1901Nqutu. After horses were let loose we settled down for a quiet day, but at 10 a.m. ‘horses in’ went on the bugle and nearly every available man saddled up. We left at 11 a.m. under Lieutenants Barter, Rundle and Montgomery. After a long and smart ride we reached our destination, near Monhla, fifteen miles (24 km) out to the north-east of Nqutu. Here we found that a young Boer, driving loot cattle from Natal, whilst telling some Natives how he had done it, was suddenly seized and disarmed by them. A Native accompanying him, being armed, at once fired on the Natives, but failed to hit one. They at once chased him and with the help of one or two others knocked him over with a knob-stick and secured him.

Thursday 25 July 1901Nqutu. Two Boers came to the foot of the hill near the regulars camp during the morning under a flag of truce. They came in to endeavour to find out where the Boer the Natives took the other day was. They brought letters and money for him. Our officer, Captain Barker, however, told them to re-cross the border as speedily as possible or he would fire on them and also told them not to come again or he would shoot them. They then cleared out towards Nondweni.

Saturday 27 July 1901Nqutu. Reveille 4.30 a.m. Last night about 20 men of No.3 Squadron under Lieutenant Rundle went out at 9 p.m. and surrounded two farmhouses at a place called Monhla but with no success. At one place we massed up and charged altogether over the last bit of skyline. The wagon drivers made a great noise in doing this and caused a general laugh. The joke was the winter manoeuvres, but more serious work unknown to us was coming. About 1 p.m. two Boers came up towards an observation post and a Hussar fired at them. They cleared away but Lieutenant Rundle’s troop who had spotted them put on so hot a fire from the flank that they dismounted and got into a donga. Their horses were driven off by a hot fire, one being wounded, and our men then advanced in extended order and took them prisoners. They did not attempt any opposition and had a small white flag. Great excitement among the men when it became known.

They, the prisoners, were handed over to the infantry. Meanwhile Lieutenant Rundle’s troop having seen three Boers in the distance, went out to catch them but they had got wind of us, owing to Symond’s looters (Symond’s Horse) being out buying mealies near them, and so got away. We remained in camp till 9 p.m. at night when we moved out. The country ahead was a blaze of fire (it was a common practice of the Boers to set fire to the veld in order to obscure their movements and obstruct the British columns) and we expected to see any amount of Boers.

Prepared and annotated by MARK COGHLAN

50 Unsung heroes: the trek ox and Natal

Natalia 34 (2004), W.H. Bizley pp. 50 – 61

Unsung heroes: the trek ox and the opening of Natal

In the 1850s the midlands colonist who lived furthest from Pietermaritzburg and closest to the Drakensberg, Robert Speirs, waxed lyrical about the ‘primal forest’ that he found all about him. This was the thick bush at the top of the Dargle Valley, beneath the Nhluzane. It had, he said,

… innumerable waterfalls, cascades, pools and glens matted with Maidenhair, giant yellowwood trees, alongside the Sneezewood, Red Pear, Bitter Almond, Cambid [white] stinkwood, cape chestnut with its distinctive pink blossoms, the knobthom all festooned with monkey rope, [and] the little orchid known as Grannybonnet.1

What the eloquent British settler did not notice, perhaps, was the degree to which, for the Trekker farmer that he had displaced, this forest was a commercial treasure house. As Barbara Line reminds us, the Trekkers used its yellowwood for building and for furniture, its sneezewood for fencing and firewood, its lemonwood for the felloes of wagon wheels (the circumference segments), its wild peach, or ‘speekhout’ for wheel spokes, its knobthorn for the disselboom (draught-pole), its wild olive for the jukskei (yoke-pin), and its halleria and bush willow for brake blocks.2 Note the paradox in that last item: it needs a soft, not a hard wood to get the right friction for the brakes of an ox-wagon. A hard wood heats the iron tyre so that it expands and comes off. The non-indigenous ‘weeping’ willow was the preference, a tree that, in the opinion of many settlers, descended from a primary ancestor at Napoleon’s grave in St Helena. These Natal woods were so highly prized that, long after Natal became a British domain, Free State farmers would come down here to purchase timbers from the Dargle forest.

We get some inkling, then, as to what crafts and skills were incorporated in that slowest, surest form of transportation, the ox-wagon. One newly-arrived colonist in the 1850s explained the technology of ox transport to his audience back home. The ‘narrow canvas-tented wagon’ was pulled by ‘a dozen or fourteen big-horned African oxen’. For his English readers, he defines the ‘juk’ and the ‘skei’ in South African parlance:

A strong drag-chain is passed forward from the wagon between each pair of the sturdy quadrupeds, which are ranged in double file; and transverse bars of wood [i.e. yokes, or ‘jukke’] cross the drag chain, with descending prongs [i.e. skeis] at either end, to fork each over the neck of its own particular beast. The prongs, when adjusted astride of the oxen’s necks, are fastened beneath by thongs of stout hide: the drag chain, prongs and thongs constitute the entire harness of the equipage.3


51Unsung heroes: the trek ox and Natal

This genial observer was struck by some of the peculiarities of the wagon ride in Natal – very different, it seems, from what he was used to:

The ordinary rate of travelling is about three miles an hour, and while this is maintained, the wagon moves over boulders and through ruts sedately and steadily enough. But every now and then a fit of go-ahead fever seizes the driver; the long whip is clutched from its resting place by the side of the wagon; its streaming thong is given to the winds, and amidst resounding cracks and scarcely less startling articulate abjurations, made up of about an equal moiety of Zulu and Dutch – a composite language which African oxen seem to understand perfectly – the beasts take to a heavy and inexorable trot, and perhaps for a third of a mile carry the wagon pell-mell over stones, rocks and whatever inequalities happen to lie in the route.4

We learn one principle from this picturesque account that explains a good deal about the relation of human being to ox in the business of wagon transport. In contrast to the way horses are hitched in an equine drive-train, the ox-team is not controlled by long reins, and is not attached to one long axle-tree or to extended shafts or traces. Yoking to a pliable central chain is the genius of ox transport, and the reason why it would be, for millennia, the chief source of motive power for all transport by land. The span of oxen is an articulated drive-chain. You can put seven or eight pairs of oxen ahead of the wagon, well beyond the short disselboom of the wagon, and so make a power combination unmatched until the coming of the steam engine. On occasion that very flexibility of the ox-span could become a nuisance. Barbara Buchanan recalls what was always a potential catastrophe with this flexi-system – the possibility of a ‘meet’ on a treacherous bend:

Wagons approaching a curve signalled and the one going downhill halted until the other had rounded the curve. It was not possible for them to pass at the curve. … But a span of oxen cannot be put in motion nor stopped quickly, and not infrequently the wagon was too near to obey the signal of bus or post cart.5

It could take half a day to extricate the wagon from such a mêlée. There was no op-tion but to make the fastidious passengers in the mail cart dismount and wait while the lighter vehicle was shunted.

Just how hopelessly mudded-down the ox-wagon could become is made clear in a report from Lady Florence Dixie, the controversial war journalist for The Morning Post, who visited Natal in 1881. She writes of the scene below Curry’s Post, after heavy rain:

As we rode along we came across many wagons hopelessly stuck; some were completely overturned while here and there total breakdown added to the confusion and disaster of the scene. Double spans of oxen struggled wildly and vainly to extricate their foundering wagons; but even with the aid of a spade and a pick all their efforts proved fruitless, and the weary laborious task of unloading was in the end the general result.6

On the tight steep contours of colonial Natal, roads could dissolve into mud in a matter of minutes. Diaries kept by members of the McKenzie family record again and again how, after heavy rains, the wagons would sink down to the axles, or tip over on one side so that the buck-rail nearly touched the ground. An ox-wagon would then become a huge clogged sled, and have to be pulled along for some hundred yards by two or three spans of oxen until it became free to run on its wheels again. (This was the reason why


a transport rider preferred not to set out with only one wagon: if he got stuck he needed the additional team from his other wagon to extricate the first.)

Road conditions being so uncertain, the Natal wagon-driver had to be a politician of the highway. Wagon-drivers were almost invariably black men, and one does not have to read much in the literature to realise that seldom in the ‘old’ South Africa did black men have such status in the eyes of their entrepreneurial bosses as did the driver and voorloper of the wagon team. Not only would the driver – ‘u shangele’ – know each ox by name, but the performance of his team would have vastly to do with his ability to walk alongside them, flicking his whip just above their ears, and cajoling them like so many individuals. Talking to his animals, the driver might, over a period of two or three weeks, walk from Pietermaritzburg, say, to Salisbury in the new-found Rhodesia. (It was considered bad technique, by the way, to make the whip actually descend on the animal. Pat McKenzie tells me that in his boyhood, before tractors came to the farm, the ability to crack a whip was the first feat that appealed to a boy’s imagination.)

No driver’s skill was more memorable than his ability to assemble his span, and that by simply calling the names of the individual oxen. The yokes and chains would first be laid in position, and then (as Maurice Mackenzie said to me7) there came the amaz-ing sight, ‘once seen never forgotten’, when, from all the milling mass of animals, the animals called for would one by one step out of the crowd and come to stand in their allotted positions. What we might mean by a ‘milling mass’ here is recalled in Don McKenzie’s journal, concerning his arrival at Karl Roode’s Drift south of Ermelo. The river was flooded, and there were camping on the near bank some hundred wagons waiting to cross, some of which had waited for over a month.8 If we calculate that each wagon had a team of fourteen to sixteen oxen there must have been some 1 500 head of cattle being maintained on open grazing. It was in a mêlée like this that a good driver would get a response from each member of his span.

The Godbold family moves house from Pondoland to the Natal interior in the 1900s. (Brian Godbold, Mountains, Bullets and Blessings)


The milling herd just off the roadway was a familiar sight when oxen were the chief motive power for the whole country. An entire industry was devoted to the production of the trek ox. The perennial problem for the stock-farmer was that whilst grazing his animals at high altitude protected them from disease, in winter they needed the grasslands of a lower altitude. This meant an annual ‘drove’ from highveld to low. The Geekie family at Benvie, for instance, whose farm was right on the neck of the pass from the old village of York up to the Karkloof, were at the bridgehead between highveld and low, and, by the unwritten laws of commonage, they had to accept the annual influx with a good grace. Every 24 May, for example, the stock belonging to the Smith brothers of Rondebosch, Mooi River, would arrive at Benvie at about four o’clock in the afternoon, having left Mooi River at sunrise. Imagine the tolerant Geekies overrun by 150 horses, 1 000 head of North Devons, 2 000 sheep, and a wagon and driver coming on behind for the stragglers.9

One of the skills that distinguished the good driver was his ability to select the most suitable animals for each position in the span. We must remember that there were, at best, three men allotted to a long-distance ox-wagon: the driver, the voorloper and the brakeman. The young voorloper at the front, would, like any apprentice, hope to become a driver one day. Up front the leading pair would be animals of special temperament, stable and imperturbable. (Some believe that the familiar name ‘Jumloot’, properly ‘uJamludi’, derives from the Dutch for ‘Jim the Pilot’ – loods – but it is in fact a Zulu rendering of the Dutch ‘Jan Bloed’, a name often given to a red ox, or indeed as a nick-name to a red-headed man.) In general one attempted to match, along the span, skittish newcomers with older animals who had been longer in the business. The skill was to get the best distribution of temperament and energy. For instance, it was no gain to get your strongest animals all on one side of the file. You then got a lop-sided effect that could eventually waste hours of haulage time. Animals under the yoke soon tell whether their partners are doing their share or not, and they slacken off accordingly. ‘Tuning’ an ox-span has an analogy in the tuning of the valves of a reciprocating petrol engine!

With the mention of energy-distribution we must consider further the ancient technol-ogy involved. The ox takes the haulage-pressure on the hump, the horse on the shoulder and chest. As we have seen, this limits the length of the parallel shafts or traces that stretch forward from a horse-drawn conveyance: sketches from the pre-railway era seldom show more than three pairs of horses in draft. Only rigid shafts can support the lateral harness that is needed for mules or horses. It is the system of yokes connected to a single flexible chain that makes possible the long team of oxen, and even for the coupling of additional spans on occasion. Hence the concentration of energy that could keep a laden wagon going for days on end. (Incidentally it is not quite true to say that this technology stretches all the way back to the time of the pharaohs. I would gather from my reading that the wagoners of the later decades of the nineteenth century could run more pairs of oxen than ever did the Trekkers in the 1840s, and that because of the improved quality of steel making up the central yoke chain. The McKenzie brothers used to get their chains all the way from Scotland.)

Given the great weight of the wagon behind them, it was a matter of principle to select the two most massive, best-tempered animals as the after-pair, the ones who would be attached to the disselboom itself. These great creatures could send the message ‘brake required’ all the way along the span by the solid application of their own braking force.


Cloven-footed creatures not only give you more power, but also a more effective braking system. The cloven hooves can steady themselves on muddy surfaces and supplement the axle-brakes on the wagon – brakes which, on their own, often failed to prevent the wagon’s rapid transformation to become a sliding sled. It was, incidentally, invariable practice to call one of those large rear animals ‘Sataan’, presumably one who would have to conjure up, on occasion, demonic strength. I was told by one farmer that sometimes, when the laden wagon was being shunted for off-loading and there was no space for the whole span, those two animals alone would shift the entire load.

To return to the actual in-spanning of the team – one skill that should not be forgot-ten was the actual harnessing of the animals. There was a danger here akin to shunting a nineteenth-century freight train in the days before vacuum brakes. The animals had to be ‘coupled’, so to speak, by positioning the yoke and securing the skeis. Trek oxen were, as we have seen, not de-horned and many accounts make it all too clear that those horns just had to take a sudden swipe while you were around the animal, and you could be wounded or maimed for ever. An ex-student of a sometime agricultural college for women to whom I have talked remembers her lecturer insisting that the horns of an ox are utterly necessary for the rhythm of its swinging head which balances its stride. If you de-horn an ox you dramatically reduce its efficiency. I must say that the theory has a musical cogency!

While we talk of the music of the days of the ox-wagon, let us not forget a factor that emblazoned itself on the memories of all who recall them, the never-ending repertoire of throaty cajolements by which the driver egged on his team. Since he had to have the same instinctive intimacy with his animals as the horse-whisperers of North America, one might think that he would, therefore, have the final choice in their naming. But this was certainly not the case: there seem often to have been more English and Dutch names than anything recognisably local. In her history of the Hathorn family Amy Young tells us that Hannah Hathorn, newly arrived in the colony, was most offended by the way that her cousin, obviously assisting the driver, addressed the bovine team.

It was on this trek that George Peacock yelled at the oxen ‘Yak fort ye skamkort trek’, and my mother rebuked him and said that she would not have the oxen spoken to in Hottentot Dutch. Mother said they were to be properly named after European Countries and English Counties. We had thereupon Devon and Holland, Snowball (a white ox) Chester and Derby, York, England and Warwick. Of course Devon was at once converted to Devil, and Mother would not have that and said it was just as easy for a native to say Devon as Devil.10

The person who is perhaps Natal’s finest diarist, Mary Moore, was entirely fascinated with the ox culture she was introduced to in the 1890s, when she was a school-teacher fresh from England. The ox-team she writes home about appears to have been named in both Dutch and English, the rear oxen being named ‘Sataan’ and ‘How-de-do’ respec-tively while another pair is Olifant and Rhinoceros (apparently the latter had lost half of one of its horns). There were also Applesauce and Hamba Policeman, and another pair kept the flags flying as Yankee Doodle and Rule Britannia. (I cannot believe that a good driver would go on using these northern hemisphere names all the way to Pilgrims’ Rest) In the front were Akermann and Scotchman, and Mary Moore would ever recall the cry: ‘Trek! Trek! Akermann, Trek!’11

We have talked of the critical distribution of energy that requires the careful matching


of an ox-team, and this was inevitable since an ox’s haulage effort is all at the hump (so much less easy to imagine than the pressure on the chest). An interesting debate was carried on in the pages of the Natal Agricultural Journal for 190512 as to whether the time-honoured yoke used by the Voortrekkers was in fact the best design for use in Natal. There was in colonial Natal often a variation in the type of trek-animal used. The favourite trek-ox in South Africa had always been a cross of Nguni and Afrikander: the former giving the necessary resistance to tick-borne diseases, and the latter giving the body-mass for sustained effort. The traditional yoke suited the big-humped variety very well, but the colonial English often got extremely good haulage from their own particular hybrids, a cross of Nguni and small-humped animals from the British Isles. The Nguni side of the equation was so restrainedly introduced that, in any photograph, one often does not notice the cross-breed at all. Pat McKenzie remembers the South Devons that made up his father’s Nottingham Road span which were used for an amazing variety of jobs – driving the mealie-grinder, drawing the mower, drawing the rake that came after the mower, drawing the V-shaped drag that took the hay to the baler, and then working the baler itself. These specialised teams were doing their work well into the 1940s, long after tractors had become a familiar sight in the fields of Natal. But the debate in the Natal Agricultural Journal stemmed from the fact that the South Devon hybrid was not so good for the long haul out on the road itself. The unmoulded South African yoke began to put a strain, after hours of work, on the smaller-humped animal.

Thus there followed the exchange between Messers James Speirs and Donald Sinclair. Both exponents were convinced that the bow yokes used in England and America got the better performance out of the smaller animals. They had both made use of imported yokes in their days of transport riding, and both claimed that one got an equivalent performance from ten to twelve animals using the bow yoke to a team of sixteen using the South African yoke. So what was the debate about? Simply that Mr Speirs preferred the English yoke and Mr Sinclair the American!

When we discuss the attributes of a good wagon-driver, we must recall something of the ‘politics’ involved in the use of the road, even in the days before the motor car. The driver – often an illiterate man – had to have a clear imagination of the road ahead (which might mean, in the ‘eighties and ‘nineties, the road from Pietermaritzburg to Salisbury!) There was a distinct rhythm discernible in the combined energy that you could call upon from an ox-team between points of in-span and out-span. Individual oxen might weaken and have to be coerced, but the ‘lore’ of wagoneering makes it clear that there was a moment when the whole team began to sag, at which point it was as useless to try and force further effort as to drive a motor car without petrol. The expert driver sensed at once that – to use the analogy – he had run out of fuel, and that his entire team was under-performing. This meant that it was grazing-time, and the regularity of the bovine rhythm with regard to the production of energy required that the driver be as much a geographer as an animal psychologist. By the last decades of the century, there was by no means free grazing always available alongside the road. Recall that barbed-wire fencing arrived in the 1880s and completely changed the open-veld philosophy of the colonists. The roads got busier, and the landowners alongside them more and more protective of their private terrains. The McKenzie brothers were sometimes shot at for grazing their teams on what they had thought was public domain. In Natal, the colonial government set up specific sites along the main road for outspanning, and in the heart of winter even provided fodder at those sites. The driver had not only to anticipate the


distance between fodder sites, but to be assured that they were well supplied. So if the Victorians used to talk about ‘railway time’ as marking the era when everyone carried a watch, the wagoner of the pre-railway age, who carried no watch, planned his journey according to a requisite pattern of grazing, cud-chewing, and hours at the yoke.

We touch here on one of the most primitive rules of bovine lore. If oxen are not given time to chew the cud – if, that is, the nutriment is not turned into fuel – then all the whip-lashing and name-calling on earth does not improve their performance. There is an object-lesson here in the difference between ox and non cud-chewing animals like the horse. The horse will work for more hours than the ox in a single turn, but then will need grazing and a whole night’s sleep. The ox gives you two or three turns of duty per day, each of fewer hours, but longer in total. The ability to work in stages gives a further flexibility to the ox-team as an instrument of haulage. It is obvious from the literature that ox-wagons often worked far into the night – indeed, transport-riders from Natal found that if they were anywhere near the tsetse-fly belt they had best accomplish their haulage only by night. (If one thinks that a road in those days was often not much more than a track through the bush, one pities the young voorloper having to find the way by starlight!) In mid-summer, a typical schedule is recorded by Don McKenzie:

We travelled from sundown to twelve midnight, when we tied up the oxen for a couple of hours’ rest, during which I usually sat by a fire and drank coffee till 2 am, when I roused the drivers and we set off again till sunrise. Then after a couple of hours for breakfast, we started off again till by eleven or twelve it was too hot to go further, and we outspanned for the afternoon and every afternoon there was lots of work to do, as the loads were always needing repacking, or the tyres were getting loose and had to be wedged.13

One presumes that those two-hour rest intervals correspond to the two hours of graz-ing and cud-chewing.

As the railway crept further and further inland the government’s sponsorship of out-span points supplied with fodder became controversial. Natal farmers had integrated themselves so thoroughly into the transport industry that the brand new railway was not always welcome. John Robinson, sometime editor of the Natal Mercury, speaking in the Colonial Assembly in 1884, noted that ‘as we travel along by train we still see by the side of the railway, along the old road, the same long lines of heavily laden wagons, toiling through the dust and the mire’.14 Natal was, in the 1880s, rather as it is today, a hotbed for the ‘road’ lobby. It had become known in fact as ‘the colony of transport-riders’15 and farmers-become-wagoneers (a company that included, incidentally, black transport-riders) complained of the railway as a tyrannical competitor. The Natal railway was of course irritated by this obstinate competition, its General Manager claiming that the government outspans along the roads were nothing less than a ‘system of free dinners’.16

If some surprise attaches to this wholesale transfer of the farming community to the transport industry, a further surprise concerns the position of Pietermaritzburg in the interior trade. Why was ’Maritzburg more of a hub for inland transport than the port city itself? In the Recollections of a Natal Colonist by H Ryle Shaw, written in 1909, a theory is presented that explains the strange predominance of the capital city. Says Ryle Shaw:

Pietermaritzburg was a sort of port that funnelled at one centre all the inland trade for the coast. This enviable position was due to an insect – the tick. At that


time the disease-transferring tick was not commonly known. It was, however, generally recognised that up-country oxen might be taken as far as Maritzburg with reasonable safety, but that to go further coastward was to court the risk – almost the certainty – of losing every ox. There were plenty of theories. Academically some held the evil to be in the air, others in the grass; but all had the practical conviction that for up-country oxen death was on the Durban road. The Durban-transport cattle were grazed on the Durban side of the town and the up-country oxen on the other.17

Let us put ourselves in the shoes of the farmer’s son who has thrown his loaned wealth into the purchase of a wagon and span, and berthed his enterprise in the Market Square, ’Maritzburg, (where the municipality would maintain a fodder supply right through to the 1950s). He wanders the central streets looking for trade, and Ryle Shaw suggests that he would not have far to go:

At the entrance of every store was a blackboard with notices in chalk such as: Wanted: wagons for Lydenburg, Kimberley, Newcastle, Potchefstroom, Pretoria, and so on. On some boards the rates offered were notified, and on others were inscribed: ‘For rates, enquire within.’ The ‘way-bills’ were severely-worded contracts but I imagine they were rarely read by the transport rider.18

Ryle Shaw is perhaps a little casual about this. A bill of lading was – even at the pace of the ox – quotable script, and a point of reference if a delivery date was not accomplished. In 1884 Duncan McKenzie was out-bid for the carriage of timber from Pietermaritzburg to Barberton where one Mr Wheeldon was trying to build a hotel to cater for the gold rush. The contract went to a Mr Tradoux, who offered eighteen shillings per hundred-weight as against his twenty shillings. McKenzie did manage to contract for the remnant of the timber at his own price, and duly set off to Barberton. When he got there and, as

The ox-wagon is still the main unit of thriving commerce in this 1890s picture outside the Pietermaritzburg Market Hall (eventually demolished in 1972).

(Pietermaritzburg 1838–1988, Shuter and Shooter)


he says, ‘presented my way-bills to Mr Wheeldon’, he found the latter to be very angry that Tradoux’s consignment had not yet arrived. The unfortunate Tradoux had become hopelessly enmeshed in unseasonal rains. Even McKenzie noted that ‘it rained every day, and we had no wood on the high veldt, and everything was so wet that we had the greatest difficulty in getting any food cooked, or even a cup of tea made.’19 But this made no difference to the terms of conveyance. Wheeldon upheld his case against Tradoux, and, says McKenzie, ‘I am not sure the matter was settled out of court’.20

In his fascinating piece, Ryle Shaw gives us an intimate peep into the prevalent commercial vehicle of the 19th century, the general dealer’s or smous’s wagon, which corresponds no doubt to the pantechnicon or the ‘mixed’ goods train of later eras:

On the up-trip into the interior, it would be loaded with coffee, sugar, moleskin suits, elastic-sided boots, calico, cheap watches and jewellery, gun-powder, lead, soap, musical-boxes, saddles, spades, beads, blankets, mirrors and knives. On the return trip it would be loaded with ivory and the skins of all the best known fauna of South Africa – lion skins, strips of hippo hide for sjamboks, skins of the giraffe for whiplashes and skins innumerable of oribi, duiker, rietbuck, bushbuck and indeed of almost all the antelope tribe from eland to little bluebuck.21

But not all the wagoneers were general dealers. With young men leaving farms in droves to go transport-riding, the developing country demanded – and paid well for – highly specialised loads. In 1880, even before the Witwatersrand goldfields were discovered, the Dargle McKenzies were loading hydraulic machinery at Howick station (today’s Merrivale) for Pilgrim’s Rest.

Some of the best day-to-day accounts of the life of a transport-rider are preserved for us in the writings of the McKenzies. Donald McKenzie, of Leeubosch, lived in times of economic hardship when schooling was a luxury; he had in fact only one year of formal education. Nevertheless it is reported that he ‘wrote a good readable hand, and became a great reader for the rest of his life. Scott’s poetry and Burns he knew well, and was fond of music and singing’.22 Don wrote a sort of working manual for his brothers, and in its pages he suggested some guiding principles. The essence of the art of ox-driving was, he said, to get the team to exert pressure all at the same time:

In crossing a bad place such as a mud-hole, spruit, river, donga or rut, the brake should be put on as the front wheels drop slowly into the rut. The span should then be straightened out nicely, and lastly the brake taken off. The driver should come alongside and give his commands in a loud decisive voice, at the same time raising his whip in the air and casting his eye over the whole span, noting at a glance if any ox in the span has not obeyed quickly and put his whole strength into the pull. If any of the span has not pulled properly and the wagon sticks, then the driver should go up to each of them in turn, call the ox by name, and at the same time bring the whip over him. He will at once move forward and lean steadily on his yoke and thus be ready to pull.23

The point of the exercise was to get a single concerted pressure. In modern times when we can set so much mechanical horsepower to work by the pressing of an accelerator, it is difficult to imagine the skill it takes to make sixteen quadrupeds give all their effort at one signalled moment. No matter how many oxen you had, a stuck wagon was as good as fixed if you could not tap all that pulling-power in one instant. To such a degree was this the art of wagon-driving that Donald expressly warned against any attempt to try to force the oxen to pull a genuinely stuck or immobile wagon. The animals would then


make an equation between the immobility of the wagon and the uselessness of trying any further, and from that moment on would prefer to be stalled!

AO Curry, grandson of George Curry of Curry’s Post, would agree with him. ‘If any particular span’s wagon got stuck and, after three or four efforts, they failed to pull it out, it was always of little purpose trying them further.’24 Now came the real test of the driver’s skill. In many cases two inexperienced drivers would simply pile on more power, and hitch both their spans to try and make the wagon move. But, says Curry, ‘I have in such cases seen a third driver suggest that the two unsuccessful spans be unhitched and moved away out of sight. Then he would calmly hitch his own span to the wagon, walk up and down the line, talking to each ox by name, two or three times, before giving the word to pull. And that would do the trick.’25

The brother who became the leading entrepreneur of the McKenzie brothers was Duncan, one day to be General Sir Duncan McKenzie. In 1888 the McKenzies were contacted by Mr Henry Nourse, of the Henry Nourse mines on the Reef. Most wagons were in this year fetching only five shillings per hundredweight to Johannesburg because of the advancing railway, but Duncan was offered twenty shillings per hundredweight to take up three exceptional loads. Just how exceptional the load was I can only illus-trate by comparison. A modern Toyota Corolla weighs 1,3 metric tonnes (and a metric tonne is not that different from a ton imperial). Consider craning on to an ox-wagon at Ladysmith station a boiler that weighed 7 tons and 15 hundredweight imperial. On the second wagon there was loaded a boiler casing 12 ft long weighing 5 tons, and on the third wagon a casing 6 ft square and weighing 6 tons. I would calculate that that would be tantamount to loading 12 to 14 Toyota Corollas on three ox-wagons – vehicles that, we must remember, were entirely unsprung and would have to clamber over every stone and rut all the way to Johannesburg. I would also calculate that this order fetched McKenzie £375 for the total shipment – not bad for two weeks’ work in days when, for example, a headmastership was advertised at £250 per annum.

But, you only got your cash on delivery. An industrialising South Africa was now requiring heavier loads than ox-wagons were designed for, and we can hardly be sur-prised that, at a drift beyond Charlestown, the hind wheel of the boiler wagon sank into the mud. So the wagon plus the eight ton boiler had to be lifted from the mud with a hand-worked jack.

The jacking up was very slow, difficult work, for the jacks kept sinking down, and more stones had to be put under them, and it was a long time before we could get a sign of an upward move, but eventually it came, and so did the rain. The result was that I could not move on until the third day. I put up a wagon sail over where we were working, and this not only kept us dry, but also the ground from getting soft.26

On the wagon trail blacks and whites were equal partners, brewing tea and frying bacon together, all entrepreneurs in their own way, and all equalized by the common obstacles of road and rain.

Two natives came along with a light wagon loaded with ten bags of mealies, and stuck in the mud a little above us. I promised to pull them out whenever it cleared. A Dutch farmer, who was riding round his stock, came and had a chat with me – he said he had a lot of oxen, and if I liked he would come and pull me out when the rain stopped. I thanked him and said I would send for him if necessary.27


The McKenzie team had quite an audience, then, when the weather at last cleared and all three spans were attached to the boiler wagon. As usual, however, Duncan’s technique won the day:

It was a cold morning, and I made the drivers just touch with the whip any ox which did not show the usual signs of pulling. The brake was taken off, and when I gave the word each driver spoke to his own oxen at the same time, and the three spans all pulled at once. The wagon came out nicely, and we were once more ready to move on. The Dutchman complimented me, and said he had never seen oxen pull like that before. I sent one span to pull the native’s wagon out and so left the old fellow delighted.28

On the great highway to the interior they met all types and races, even Natal’s future Prime Minister, Sir George Sutton, ‘with whom I had a few words when he was passing down in the Post Cart’.29 A few days later they arrived at the Henry Nourse Mine. ‘Off-loading was very simple and we easily dug a trench to sink the wagon wheels on one side, and the heavy boiler and cases came off very gently, falling on to the soft earth. I was thankful to see the last of the boiler.’ 30

The idyll of transport-riding came to an end in the late 1890s not so much because of the advancing railway as because of the outbreak of rinderpest – an epidemic that saw the reduction by half of Natal’s cattle population. Contracted for a trip to Rhodesia in 1897, Duncan set out with that most ancient means of transport, the ox-wagon, but was warned about the spreading disease by the most modern means, the electric telegraph.

Everything was going very nicely, when I received a letter from Mr Bland (the agent in Salisbury) telling me that some disease had broken out away north, and seemed to be killing cattle wholesale. Shortly after this, I had another letter telling me this disease was coming nearer and nearer, and wiping out everything before it, even buffaloes. Later I had a wire saying it was coming down the coast so rapidly that he feared it would be there almost immediately; at last his wires became so urgent that he wanted definite orders as to what he was to do. By this time I realised that it was hopeless for me to think of going forward with my twelve wagons and three hundred oxen, so, much against my inclination, I decided to hand back the two or three loads I had to the agents, and to sell my own goods, unfortunately at a loss. I brought back a good deal of tea, sugar, flour and golden syrup. 31

There was one strange sequel to this failed enterprise. Up in Rhodesia, Cecil Rhodes, trying to resuscitate his fragile new colony after the ravages of rinderpest, contracted with the McKenzie brothers to bring to Rhodesia 100 oxen from their farm Cotswold in Natal. They were not to use the fever-ridden route inland, but the sea-route via Beira. The expedition left Durban in November 1896, attended by Peter McKenzie, and it turned into a real old-world imperial adventure. The small herd was shipped by steam-freighter to Beira, thence by river-boat up the Pungwe River to the railhead, thence by the Portuguese narrow-gauge railway up to the frontier at Chimoio. On the river itself, the vessel carrying the cattle got stranded on a sandbank. Many of the Natal oxen died from the heat as the men sought desperately to improvise a crane, driven by the engine of a river tug, to hoist the oxen ashore. Nevertheless the McKenzie wagons did eventu-ally trundle into Salisbury, leaving the brothers to claim that it was a Natal enterprise that saved Rhodesia’s fledgling economy! 32

In conclusion we may again refer to AO Curry, who owned eight spans of oxen, each matched in colour, and who believed that ‘a middle-aged, well-trained ox, treated kindly,


REFERENCESHM = Howick Museum 1. In Speirs file, HM 2. In the papers of the Lions River Historical Association 3. Hattersley, A.F., The Natalians: Further Annals of Natal (Pietermaritzburg, Shuter and Shooter, 1940) p.

107 4. Hattersley 1940, p.107 5. Buchanan p.289 6. In Dixie file, HM 7. Interview with Mr Maurice Mackenzie. The author is grateful to Mr Mackenzie for much of what follows

on the skills of the wagon-driver. 8. McKenzie, Col. A.G., Delayed Action (the life and times of the late Brigadier General, Sir Duncan

McKenzie), Private Publication, p.100. 9. In Geekie file, HM.10. Young, Amy H, Hathorn Family History (PMB, 1967) p.70.11. Moore, Mary, MS titled ‘Winter Holiday Budget 1892’ in the Nixon Collection.12. See under Speirs file, HM.13. McKenzie, AG p.84.14. Bizley, WH, ‘The Life and Times of the Inchanga Viaduct’, in Theoria Vol 50, p.5.15. Heydenrych, H. and Martin, B., The Natal Main Line Story, HSRC Publishers, 1992, p.51.16. Heydenrych p.51.17. H Ryle Shaw, ‘Recollections of a Natal Colonist’, kept in Shaw file, HM.18. H Ryle Shaw, HM.19. McKenzie p.98.20. McKenzie p.98.21. H Ryle Shaw, HM.22. McKenzie p.66.23. McKenzie pp.93/4.24. See under Curry file, HM.25. Curry file, HM.26. McKenzie p.107.27. McKenzie p.107.28. McKenzie p.108.29. McKenzie, p.109.30. McKenzie p.113.31. McKenzie p.75.32. McKenzie p.80f.33. See Curry file, HM.The author is much indebted to Mr Maurice Mackenzie MPL, Mr Pat McKenzie, Dr Pat Coleby and Prof Stanley Ridge for information provided during interviews, and to the Curator of the Howick Museum for resources made available to him. W H BIZLEY

is almost human’.33 He must have known what he was talking about, because, well into the twentieth century, he kept a span of oxen standing by at Curry’s Post. The reason was simple. Time and time again he and his oxen were called upon by luckless motorists to pull their clogged vehicles out of the mud! So Natal oxen performed an encore as late as the 1960s!

The Natal Mountain Club treks to the mountains from Bergville station in the 1920s. (Photo: Nixon Collection)

62 Veterinary pioneers

Natalia 34 (2004), Brian Davies pp. 62 – 69

Veterinary pioneersThe story of Allerton Veterinary Laboratory

(This article is an adaptation of a talk given by Mr Brian Davies to members of the Pietermaritzburg Heritage Society when they visited Allerton on 12 October 2003.)Allerton Veterinary Laboratory is situated in a park-like estate of about 23 hectares on Town Bush Road, Pietermaritzburg. The present Director, Dr H Weaver, tells us: ‘During his term of office Col. Watkins-Pitchford [the founder and first director of Allerton Laboratory] had arranged for the major portion of the property which now houses the Allerton complex to be purchased from a Mr Watson who was an avid tree lover, and responsible for planting most of the significant trees on the property.’

The original property had three homesteads, each probably on a separate sub-divi-sion. One of these was demolished, while the other two remain to this day. In 1897 an additional property was purchased for the complex and this had a 30-year-old house on it. Apart from the old buildings on the estate, there is a mysterious obelisk on which very faint lettering can be seen. Its origin and purpose are unknown. Another unique relic is an excavation which people thought was an old swimming pool, and rejoiced to think they might re-open it. Further discoveries led them to think it had been a tank into which huge quantities of formalin were poured and the carcasses of dead animals needing preservation were weighted down in it. There was no more talk of swimming in there!

The Heritage Society values Allerton for its older buildings, some of which were resi-dences, and one of which was converted into offices, but with fine Edwardian building patterns and designs still visible. The gable of the office across the park is worthy of note, even if it needs some maintenance work.

The military and civilian importance of healthy draught animals in the late 19th century was evident. Goods trains were limited and motor transport unknown. Long before the Anglo-Boer War broke out, military men of both sides were aware that dead oxen do not pull wagons or heavy guns and ammunition up hills. Much of this article, however, will deal with personalities, as the present writer is not qualified to deal with topics like bacteria, viruses, venoms, germs, vaccines and serums.

There were four men, all moulded in the late 19th century, and their thinking flowed with the vast movements of humanity from what we now regard as primitive agriculture and animal care to methods which we vain mortals now think are the pinnacle of achieve-ments in animal husbandry. The importance of healthy animals to human populations


63Veterinary pioneers

is incalculable. Much of the story of Allerton deals with the personalities of these four pioneers – two Englishmen, a German and a Swiss.

Joseph Baynes, who came to Natal and established the famous dairy farm at Nel’s Rust (later known as the Baynesfield Estate), was born on 2 March 1842 in Austwick, Yorkshire. In public life Baynes became a minister in the Natal colonial government. In 1902, he built the first cattle dipping-tank in South Africa to combat ticks, the carriers of east coast fever and other diseases. For the information on Baynes in this article I am indebted to the biography Joseph Baynes, Pioneer by R.O. Pearse.

Robert Koch was born on 11 December 1843, in Klausthal, Hanover. He was later to become a doctor, a world-renowned bacteriologist, Director of the Institute of Infectious Diseases in Berlin, and winner of the Nobel Prize for medicine in 1905. He visited South Africa in 1896 at the invitation of the Cape Government to help control the rinderpest then raging throughout the Cape and Transvaal.

Herbert Watkins-Pitchford was born on 3 June 1866, in Bath, England. His first and lasting love was the Army, and cavalry. However, at the suggestion of his father, a clergy-man, he qualified at the Royal Veterinary College in 1889, and practised for seven years as a veterinary surgeon at the Royal Military College, Sandhurst. He was the first Director at Allerton and had the first laboratory built in 1897. He became a Lieutenant-Colonel in the Army, a Fellow of the Royal Society and of the College of Veterinary Surgeons, and a companion of the Order of St. Michael and St. George. He died at Illovo Beach, Natal, on 25 June 1951. In April 1979 the Watkins-Pitchford Building at Allerton, with its modern laboratories, was opened by the then Minister of Agriculture and named in honour of the energy and perseverance of Herbert Watkins-Pitchford.

Arnold Theiler was born on 26 March 1867 in Frick, Switzerland, and educated in Berne and Zurich. In 1891 he came to work for the Johannesburg Sanitary Board as a consulting veterinary surgeon. In 1893 he was promoted to be Veterinary Surgeon for the old Zuid-Afrikaansche Republiek (ZAR). By then rinderpest had broken out in Rhodesia, and the ZAR approached Robert Koch to help devise a remedy. He and Theiler worked together and the latter founded Onderstepoort, which grew into one of the largest and most important institutions of its kind in the world. He was appointed in 1897 as Veterinary Surgeon to the Transvaal State Artillery. His teams of relatively healthy oxen hauled big guns like Long Tom to the siege of Ladysmith, where Theiler remained with the Boer forces until the siege was lifted in 1900. Thelma Gutsche’s book There was a Man records the life and times of Dr Sir Arnold Theiler in great detail.

Loyal friends of each of these four men argued the case for recognition as the man who discovered the cure for rinderpest and for various other cattle diseases. They also made these claims themselves, even though they were all busy in their fields of work in different parts of the world.

The first Colonial Veterinary Surgeon in Natal was Dr Samuel Wiltshire, who had military experience as an observer during the American Civil War in the 1860s. He came to Natal in 1874, and retired early in 1896. Dr Weaver explains that Wiltshire was virtually ‘forced into retirement by the politicians who at the time were reluctant to lose favour with the farmers by legislating to control diseases such as lung sickness’. During his 20 years in service Dr Wiltshire occupied offices in Church Street where the Colonial Building stands today.


In 1896 when Watkins-Pitchford took over there were, of course, no office buildings at Allerton, and his offices were situated in the newly-completed, and first, City Hall in Pietermaritzburg. He said his first equipment consisted of ‘a damaged microscope, a few dilapidated instruments and some dozen bottles containing drugs’. He, too, found the opposition of the politicians and their agricultural constituents a severe trial.

The post Dr Watkins-Pitchford was appointed to was that of Principal Veterinary Surgeon for the Colony of Natal, at an annual salary of £500. He was 30 years of age, and had been selected from 101 applicants. On arrival in Natal after a voyage of four weeks, he placed his family in a boarding-house in Pietermaritzburg and travelled ex-tensively, learning about his new country and job.

The Commissioner for Agriculture and Watkins-Pitchford were acutely aware of the need for a properly equipped laboratory for experimental research and bacteriological work. Watkins-Pitchford approved the Allerton site in the Town Bush Valley a few miles from the city centre, which had been previously identified as a suitable one by Wiltshire. A settler named Matthew Stead (c1800 –1867) from Chapel Allerton near Leeds in Yorkshire had owned the original farm, and had given it its name, which has remained ever since. Watkins-Pitchford applied for the land and the building of a labo-ratory there. He got both, and in 1897 work began on the construction of the Allerton Research Laboratory.

Plans were prepared and the successful tenderer was one John Hardy who would do the work for £2 050. The new laboratory had an attic which housed a weather office. This is still to be seen, but is no longer put to its original use. Dr Weaver discovered an article in a now defunct newspaper of the time, The Sketch. Part of it reads ‘The government of Natal has just established at Pietermaritzburg a research laboratory for the investigation of the many diseases of stock incidental to this country. The building is sunken below ground level about six feet, so that the temperature of the lower storey may be as equable as possible during the hot weather.’

It is appropriate at this point to say something about rinderpest – a German word meaning ‘cattle plague’ – and the following information is an adaptation of material in R.O. Pearse’s biography of Joseph Baynes.

‘It is one of the most infectious animal diseases. The 1896 – 1897 outbreak in South Africa was a disaster of the first magnitude. Actually it is an Asiatic malady, originating on the steppes of Russia, and has been known and dreaded from the very earliest times. Some of the diseases mentioned by Virgil and even Homer were probably rinderpest …In the 5th century A.D. Western Europe was invaded by Attila the Hun, and rinderpest followed him. Charlemagne in A.D. 810 returned with his armies and brought it back into France. In 1870 – 71 it destroyed 70 000 cattle in France and 30 000 in Alsace-Lorraine. It broke out from time to time, apparently after periods of war and the disruption of agriculture.One theory about its introduction into Africa is that during the British invasion of the Sudan in about 1880, they had imported large numbers of cattle from Russia to feed their armies, and they brought the infection with them, spreading it down the Nile valley, into Uganda, and the whole of East Africa. Another theory is that the Italians introduced it when they invaded Eritrea and Somaliland about 1890 and imported diseased cattle for their armies. The Russian Government had offered a reward of one million roubles for the person discovering the most effective method of treating rinderpest.’


As rinderpest moved southwards in Africa, alarm grew. It spread to Bulawayo, then to Bechuanaland. The Transvaal and the Orange Free State were next. In 1890 the Volksraad had been asked by President Kruger to set up a Department of Agriculture, but it turned down his request. ‘Free independent farmers working their own lands for which they had fought refused to allow the imposition of bureaucratic control.’ In 1894 another attempt was made.

At that time Arnold Theiler was the only veterinarian in the Transvaal, and in 1896 was sent to Matabeleland to investigate the disease. He telegraphed back to Pretoria that cattle lay in stinking profusion along the roads, dead from rinderpest. Theiler ordered the slaughter of all infected herds and the payment of compensation by the state. Transport-riders were spreading the disease unwittingly, as were trekboers and black herders.

There were then two kinds distinct types of cattle farmer. Firstly there was the trekboer who moved his stock up to the highveld in early summer to get the fresh new grazing, and in winter he trekked them down to ‘the thorns’ in the Lowveld where the grass was sweet and the cold less intense. He was the beef farmer. Secondly there was the dairy farmer whose herds did not move long distances. Joseph Baynes was very successful at this type of farming, producing high quality milk, cream, butter and cheese. He had a chain of outlets in Natal called The Model Dairy, which many of us still recall.

When the Natal Colonial Government prohibited the movement of livestock from the Transvaal, the trekboers of northern Natal were caught with some of their cattle in the summer grazing lands of the highveld in the Transvaal, and they were stuck there. Irritation was intense, and they were not very co-operative. Indeed it was suspected that they had a peculiar sabotage plan against the ‘over-educated’ veterinarians from Europe who, they thought, were trying to teach their grandmothers to suck eggs.

The ‘home remedies’ for rinderpest are now regarded with sympathy but disbelief. They included snake venom, a soup made from the carcass of a diseased animal, and a mixture of brandy, salt, linseed oil, copper sulphate, potassium permanganate and onions tied in a cloth to the horns of oxen. President Paul Kruger himself had a remedy: four inches of tobacco, a cup of flour, about 250 ml of paraffin, and a bottle of water. If the beast was still alive the next day, the drench was to be repeated. Watkins-Pitchford thought all these were nothing more than hoaxes. The Commissioner of Agriculture in Natal, Charles Banastre Lloyd, put him wise. ‘It is absolutely genuine and serious, and typical of the mental grasp of 90% of the farmers of the country. That is what you are up against!’

While waiting for his laboratory to be built, Watkins-Pitchford had been sent to the Transvaal in 1896 and spent some weeks with Arnold Theiler, where they looked at a newly-developed technique from Europe called ‘serum therapy’. They felt confident that the only way to beat this plague was through the laboratory. Rinderpest spread extremely quickly, and in 1896 it was reaching a climax. Theiler found a kindred soul in Watkins-Pitchford when he took him to the Waterberg to show him the disease at first hand, and found him an eager pupil.

Other animal diseases including east coast fever, horse sickness and bubonic plague were also occupying Watkins-Pitchford’s attention at this time – the late 1890s before the outbreak of the Second Anglo-Boer War. Quarter-evil was brought under control with a single-dose vaccine.


The Cape Government called a conference at Vryburg on 31 August and 1 September 1896, attended by delegates from Transvaal, Natal, the Cape, Basutoland, Bechuanaland, German South-West Africa and the Orange Free State. Watkins-Pitchford was one of the two Natal delegates. ‘Home remedies’ for rinderpest were criticised, but Watkins-Pitchford remained silent throughout much of the conference, having so recently arrived from Britain. He did, however, make a good point at the end: ‘I think that all the time spent administering medicines internally for rinderpest is not only wasted but very badly spent. The only possible hope of a remedy is in the serum treatment. I do not think any drug would check the disease when the organism is in the blood multiplying there, while you are only acting on the alimentary canal.’

After the Vryburg Conference Theiler, and Watkins-Pitchford were sent by their respective governments to the Marico district 20 miles from the Bechuanaland border, and laboured in the summer heat trying to immunise cattle using injections of virus in the form of fresh blood from an infected beast that had already recovered from the disease. The system of rinderpest vaccination in use today differs little from the process discovered by Watkins-Pitchford and Theiler in 1896. Gutsche writes of their association: ‘They appeared a singularly incongruous couple – Theiler with his swarthy complexion and continental, his guttural English, slight swagger and determination to hunt for the pot between his official duties; Watkins-Pitchford the very picture of an English vet., in breeches and gaiters with billycock hat, clean-shaven, blue-eyed and voluble.’

Koch’s ‘serum method’ was brought by him to South Africa in 1897, but in his laboratory in Kimberley he found his method not as good as Theiler’s and Watkins-Pitchford’s ‘bile treatment’. The latter two ran out of animals to treat in the Marico district and moved to Rustenberg in 1897, but Theiler was ordered back to Pretoria by the Transvaal Government, leaving Watkins-Pitchford to carry on until recalled by the Natal Government.

The desire to gain fame by being credited as the discoverer of the cure for such an infamous disease as rinderpest spurred these men on. The million-rouble prize offered by the Russians also helped, no doubt. A hundred years later we speculate whether, if there had been no rinderpest outbreak then, the Allerton laboratory might not have been erected so speedily, and Watkins-Pitchford might have died as a veteran veterinarian in England.

Interestingly, had it not been for Watkins-Pitchford there might have been a different City Hall standing in Pietermaritzburg today. The old one was built in 1893 and burned down in July 1898. Thelma Gutsche reveals a case of political intrigue which some may find hard to believe. Briefly, it was alleged that a spy had been placed in Watkins-Pitch-ford’s entourage at the instance of politicians put up to it by furious northern Natal cattle farmers who had suffered severe losses through the closing of Natal’s borders against cattle movements. They blamed Watkins-Pitchford for disregarding their interests.

The ‘spy’ is alleged to have been venal and cattle entrusted to his care had mysteri-ously disappeared. Charges of stock theft against him were being investigated and the statements of the witnesses were in Watkins-Pitchford’s office in the tower of the City Hall.

The spy’s stock records had been abstracted from his desk by those loyal to Wat-kins-Pitchford, with the consent of the Colonial Secretary, and they are alleged to have shown discrepancies which would have proved damning. Watkins-Pitchford suspected


that the Colonial Auditor’s department and the Accounts departments had been warned by government officials in cahoots with the spy that their records were in danger. They were in the same building as Watkins-Pitchford’s offices, namely the 1893 City Hall.

The fact that this spy and the civil servant who had appointed him were using money from the ‘rinderpest funds’ instead of the usual Civil Service allocations, was uncov-ered by the investigations of Watkins-Pitchford and his colleagues. A man’s career was at his mercy. The civil servant informed on the spy to Watkins-Pitchford, but then joined up with him again when Watkins-Pitchford refused to stop his enquiries into the irregularities. The two conspirators had only one way to escape being exposed – to destroy the evidence.

The City Hall was broken into on the night of 31 July 1898 while the caretaker was conveniently in Durban. A Zulu worker in the City Hall saw a European male leav-ing the building long after locking-up time. A fire broke out shortly afterwards, which destroyed the whole building. In Watkins-Pitchford’s office the papers relating to the stock theft case were destroyed, and almost all his scientific records on the rinderpest epidemic, which were to be used to claim the Russian reward.

Watkins-Pitchford had returned home to Allerton that evening and at dinner was informed by his Zulu servants that the City Hall was on fire. He saddled up and rode back again to witness the destruction of the building, its great bells crashing down the tower to the basement. Having seen photographs of the interior of the first City Hall, I am rash enough to say that the unknown arsonist or spy did Pietermaritzburg a favour that night. Our present City Hall seems to me a better and more dignified building.

Late in 1899, after the outbreak of war, Watkins-Pitchford and some of his senior Allerton staff were sent to Ladysmith where the British army was assembling, with cavalry and horse-drawn artillery regiments needing some veterinary advice. British cavalry regiments were often fresh from England where the horses were stall-fed, and putting them out to graze on unfamiliar Natal pastures was affecting their nutrition and condition. Also, because their tails and manes had been cut, the stinging and sucking Natal horse flies could not be whisked off by the luckless animals, and they had become bad tempered and difficult to manage.

The Allerton team was still there when the Boer army surrounded Ladysmith and commenced its bombardment with ‘Long Tom’ from the top of Umbulwana. Watkins-Pitchford was inside British-held Ladysmith throughout the siege, while his colleague Arnold Theiler was caring for draught animals on the Boer side, employed by the Transvaal State Artillery which was lobbing shells into the besieged town.

Food grew scarce, and Watkins-Pitchford advised the military command to start slaugh-tering horses for food. The cavalrymen objected. Their horses were highly cherished . Without them they became infantrymen. One day a Boer shell dropped into the cavalry lines and killed two or three horses. That night in a cavalry regiment officers’ mess, steaks were served for the first time in many months. Watkins-Pitchford had ordered the butchers to cut up the carcasses, and on each steak was a splinter with a note stating that it was horse meat. Opposition to the slaughter of horses began to wane. Watkins-Pitchford wrote an account of his experiences during the siege in the form of a series of letters to his wife. It was published but is not widely known. (Besieged in Ladysmith: A letter to his wife, written in Ladysmith, Pietermaritzburg: Shuter and Shooter, 1964.)

While he was trapped in Ladysmith during the siege, the work at Allerton came to


a total standstill. Searchlights were used by the British signallers in both the besieged and the relieving armies to communicate by Morse code on cloudy nights. One such message to Watkins-Pitchford from Allerton was to ask him where he had put the keys of certain doors and cupboards. He replied that he had them with him!

Four days after the relief of Ladysmith on 28th February 1900, the team was back at work at Allerton. Watkins-Pitchford’s health had suffered during the four-month siege, however, and later that year he returned to England on recuperative leave, having sent his wife and children there before the war began.

When he returned to Natal in 1901 he was appointed Chief Government Bacteriologist and his successor as Principal Veterinary Surgeon was Dr S. B. Woollatt. At Allerton Watkins-Pitchford worked on research into many of the other diseases affecting cattle in the Colony: horse-sickness, quarter-evil, bubonic plague and blue-tongue. He also worked on the production of snake venom serum. His most valuable work at this time was probably in combating east coast fever, carried by ticks, by means of dipping-tanks and sprays. It was in collaboration with his friend Joseph Baynes that he devised this means of treatment and so enabled diseases such as redwater and east coast fever to be brought under control.

At Baynesfield one can see the first cattle dipping-tank built in South Africa. Baynes had bought cattle in Australia and shipped them from Queensland to Durban. Mr Brooker, an Australian stockman, accompanied them on the voyage, and when they arrived here only about 100 head remained from a herd of over 500. Brooker suggested dipping cattle against tick-borne diseases, as they were doing in Queensland. Baynes, Watkins-Pitchford and others agreed it was a good idea, and had the dipping tank constructed in 1902. Dipping proved to be effective in the fight against redwater. The Australian dipping mixture was modified by Watkins-Pitchford to deal with the tougher ticks we have here. The mixture sounds quaint now, and echoes some of those remarkable ‘home remedies’ used against the rinderpest. Baynes’s formula was: 6 lbs arsenic, 24 lbs common yellow soap, 24 lbs washing soda crystals, 5 gallons Stockholm Archangel tar, 400 gallons of water. The mixture was boiled for at least 6 hours before use, and a warm dip (about 38°C) was found to be most effective. It could be used several times, and needed topping up only occasionally. It had desirable side-effects too, removing scurf and dirt from the animals’ coats.

The Bambatha Rebellion broke out in 1906 and refugees drove their cattle around Natal and Zululand to escape the conflict. East coast fever then broke out, and dipping-tanks were hastily built in other districts, using Baynes’s pattern. Baynes is reported to have lost only eight animals from east coast fever in the period 1906 to 1908. He and Watkins-Pitchford worked in close collaboration to improve the dips in use. Much of the research was done in laboratories at Allerton, much of the field testing at Nel’s Rust. The two men became close friends.

Watkins-Pitchford applied for the post of Chief Veterinary Officer of the newly-formed Union of South Africa in 1910, but was pipped at the post by his former colleague Dr Arnold Theiler, who knew the new Prime Minister Louis Botha personally and had the advantage of being able to speak Dutch, which Watkins-Pitchford had not mastered. Watkins-Pitchford resigned in 1912, and returned to England with his family, where he rejoined the Army.

After serving in the First World War he returned to Natal and settled on the South


Coast where he died on 25 June 1951 at the age of 86. He was interested in historical matters, and his studies of the Barry family led him to write a novel, In God’s Good Time, published in Pietermaritzburg in 1948. He was a self-taught water-colour painter, and illustrated his numerous scientific papers in careful detail. He was also an organist. His military decorations are in the Africana Museum, Johannesburg.

Harry Lugg, a former Chief Native Commissioner in Natal, and author of Historic Natal and Zululand (1949) observes: ‘Colonel Pitchford’s preventive measures have effected enormous savings in losses from animal diseases. He was awarded the CMG. by the Imperial Government for his work … during the first Great War where, as Com-mandant of the Royal Army Veterinary School, he was instrumental in saving thousands of horses in England and France from a mysterious epidemic introduced from America, but for his services in South Africa he received only the thanks of a grateful public and the blessings of the Natal Parliament.’

BRIAN DAVIES

70 The names and the naming of Durban

Natalia 34 (2004), A. Koopman pp. 70 – 87

The names and the naming of Durban

IntroductionAmidst the hoo-hah that surrounds the changing of place names in South Africa (as I write, it is proposed to rename Pretoria Tshwane), with the predictable rush of (white) letter-writers to editors of newspapers complaining about the waste of money, it seems that there are always two basic assumptions.

The first assumption is that the place concerned is changing from one name to an-other. This is in most cases a faulty assumption: where the ‘official’ name has been a Euro-Western name given by colonial authority, there has in most cases been a parallel African name, invariably the name used by the majority of the population, but, being ‘unofficial’, not appearing in maps, atlases, guidebooks, and street and road signs. Examples are Bloemfontein (Mangaung), Grahamstown (eRini), Pretoria (Tshwane), Johannesburg (eGoli – and others), Estcourt (eMtshezi), Ladysmith (eMnambithi) and Durban (eThekwini and, indeed, others, as we shall see in the article). When a ‘name-change’ is reported, as with Pretoria-Tshwane, it is not that the city is getting a new name, but rather that an old, established name for the locality, in a language native to the area, is getting official recognition.

In the pre-1994 South Africa, only English and Afrikaans were official languages, and where English or Afrikaans names existed side by side with indigenous language names, it was in most cases the English or Afrikaans name that had the official status, as with the examples of Bloemfontein, Pretoria and Johannesburg given above. Place names in the indigenous languages were official if they were the only name for the place, for example, eMpangeni, eShowe, Matatiele, Thabazimbi and Mafikeng. A number of places in pre-1994 South Africa had two official names, such as Oos Londen/East London; Cape Town /Kaapstad, and Grahamstown/Grahamstad. Perhaps it would be onomastically more precise to say these places had one name, recorded officially in two languages. ‘Kaapstad’ is not really a different name for Cape Town; it is the Afrikaans version of ‘Cape Town’. The only place I can think of with two official (and different) names is the small village near the tip of Cape Agulhas called Arniston/Waenhuiskrans.

The second assumption is that in the phrase ‘changing from one name to another’ there are in each case two names – one a ‘colonial’ (i.e. ‘European’, ‘Western’, ‘Eng-lish’, ‘Dutch/Afrikaans’, etc), while the other is African (i.e. ‘indigenous’, Zulu, Xhosa, Tswana, etc.)


71The names and the naming of Durban

The fact is that any place may have a number of names: in addition to the ‘official’ names, there may be nicknames (some of which may even be ‘official’ nicknames, oc-curring in municipal brochures), like The Garden City, City of Gold, Sleepy Hollow1; some historical names like Huigas and Cabo de Boa Esperance2, and some variations on the official names like Joburg, Joeys and eJozini, or Maritzburg, Bloem and PE.

Together these names create a palimpsest, a composite picture of a particular place, of names laid one over the other along dimensions of time, language, and degree of formality. Such is the case with Durban.

The Naming of DurbanReaders of newspapers and other documents must be forgiven if they get the impression that Durban has only two names: the ‘colonial’ Durban, and the Zulu name eThekwini. For example, the Durban Metro Tourism web site (http.//www.kwazulunatal.org/prettour/durban.html) states:

‘The harbour, once a natural lagoon, is the largest and busiest in South Africa today. The bay also gives Durban its Zulu name, eThekwini.’

Stayt [1971: no page] explains ‘Tekweni’ [sic] as ‘… name by which Durban is known to the Zulus’, and Raper [1987:316] has ‘Thekwini … Zulu name for Durban.’

This article wishes to dispute the apparent binomial status of Durban, and to present the major harbour city of South Africa as a place which, onomastically speaking, is indeed a palimpsest of names. Among other names, we will look at (see the illustration opposite), the names eBhodwe, Rio de Na-tal, Port Natal, Durban, D’Urban, Durbs, eMdubane, iTheku, eThekwini, eMhlume, kwaKhangela, eThusini, eManteku, Kwa Malinde, and Bubolongo.

We will start by looking at names for Durban Bay as they appeared on maps from 1763 to 1828, look at how Port Natal became Durban, shift to the name eThekwini and explore debates about its meaning, look at a variety of other Zulu names for Durban or parts of Durban, most of them older than the name eThekwini, and then end with some predictions about the future onomastic status of this city.

Early Names for the Bay of Durban Rio de NatalOne usually thinks of Durban’s first Euro-Western name as being Port Natal, and one associates this name with the arrival of Fynn, Farewell, Isaacs, Gardiner and the other early settlers in the 1820s and 1830s. Bulpin, however, suggests (without giving a source) that an earlier name had been given to the bay by Portuguese explorers:

Figure 1: A palimpsest of names for Durban


‘… that vast land-locked lagoon which the Portuguese called the Rio de Natal; for it seemed to them that it must be the mouth of some mighty river whose source lay far in the interior.’ [1966:47]

He returns to this name later, when describing the King and Farewell expedition of 1823:

‘The rest of the trading party abandoned St Lucia in disgust and sailed down the coast searching for a suitable landing-place in the various river mouths. In this way they eventually found themselves off that Rio de Natal of which rumour had whispered strange tales for the last two hundred years.’ [ibid p. 50]

When the name ‘Rio de Natal’ became substituted by ‘Port Natal’ is not very clear, especially if one follows Bulpin:

‘In May 1824 Fynn sailed up to what was now known as Port Natal.’ [ibid p. 51]

and:‘… Farewell, with Fynn, returned [7th August 1824] joyfully to the Rio de Natal, to build their shacks and commence a trade … the foundation and beginning of the great commercial city and harbour of Durban.’ [ibid p. 55]

We do, however, find evidence of the name Rio de Natal in Bird’s Annals of Natal [Vol I:33]:

‘Henry Witkins of Bristol sailed from the Downs on 1st May 1686 bound for the East Coast of Africa … [they] sailed to about latitude 28½° and anchored in the bay “Piscada” [St. Lucia].

…after staying there three days ..[we] proceeded to Rio de Natal [my emphasis] …and there fell in with the five sailors of the ship the “Good Hope”, which had

Figure 2: Lt King’s chart of Durban Bay in 1822


been wrecked there on 17th May 1685.’

The same page, telling of the wrecking of the Good Hope, also uses the name Rio de Natal, and implies that it was a name already well known:

‘Jan Kingston, a sailor in the English ship the “Good Hope” … says that on 24th November 1684 … he sailed from Gravesend … [having] passed within sight of the Cape of Good Hope, they stood direct for Rio de Natal [my emphasis] where they arrived on 9th May 1685 … [their ship was driven onto the shore] .. and seeing no chance of getting her off, they erected a hut on the south shore.’

Some four years later the name ‘Bay of Natal’ appears to be in use:‘The “Noord” having laid up at De la Goa until the 29th December [1688] … proceeded to examine the coast and the Bay of Natal [my emphasis] where they anchored on the 5th January [1689] … and there found Adrian Jans … and Jan Pieters … both of the wrecked ship “Stavenisse”. Having surveyed that bay, they sailed on the 23rd …’ [ibid p.45]

Bay of Natal and Port NatalThe name Rio de Natal is not marked on any of the early maps that I have seen, but from the 1760s the name Bay of Natal (or variants such as Baai van Natal – Dutch map, or B di Natal – Italian map) starts appearing on maps (Norwich, 1983). Gradually, over a period of fifty years, Bay of Natal or its variations is replaced by Port Natal, as we see in Figure 2 opposite. The name ‘Bay of Natal’ lingers on, though. The map of Durban in Map Studio’s 1994 edition of the South African Road Atlas gives Durban harbour as Bay of Natal/Natalbaai.

It is interesting – indeed intriguing – that the name Port Natal first appears on a French map in 1782, a good forty years before the arrival of King, Farewell, Fynn and associates in 1824, and again on Italian, German and Ameri-can maps before that year.A search through collections of old maps of the east coast of southern Africa reveals more than just the various names given to the lagoon which the Zulu people called eThekwini. Such maps also throw up the names of explorers and cartographers whose names do not always make it into the standard history books. Such a one is Louis Almoro Pisani, the ‘Burger Commandant and Ingezeetenen der Colonie Zwellendam’, who in the years 1781 to 1793 undertook an exploration (‘landtogt’) from Swellendam to the ‘Bay of Lourenza Marques’, subsequently producing a detailed map of the eastern coast,

Figure 3: Detail from Pisani’s map of 1781–1793: Norwich, 1983: Map 183


with an inset map of the harbour named Port Natal, with a remarkably wide entrance. A portion of his map is reproduced in Figure 3.

Port Natal … D’Urban …DurbanBird’s Annals [Vol I: 307ff] gives the full details of a meeting held on 23 June 1835. The document, headed ‘Port Natal’ states that a meeting of the residents of Port Natal [15 attended the meeting] decided to lay out a town to ‘be called D’Urban, in honour of his Excellency the Governor of the Cape Colony.’ It was unanimously agreed that

‘… the said town be situated between the River Avon and the Buffalo Spring; that it be bounded on the west by the River Avon, on the east by a line drawn from the bay in a right angle, and touching the Buffalo Spring near the residence of F. Berkin, Esq., and that the town lands extend four miles inland, and include Salisbury Island in the bay.’

The River Avon was the name given to the Umbilo River, the original Zulu name subsequently re-establishing itself. Buffalo Spring is marked by Old Well Court of Smith Street in Durban today. [Malherbe, 1965:24]

The spelling ‘D’Urban’ was not destined to last for long. Only ten years later, in 1845, when Martin West became Lieutenant-Governor of Natal, fifty-six citizens, describing themselves as ‘inhabitants of D’Urban’ sent an address of congratulations. In reply Governor West thanked the ‘loyal inhabitants of Durban’. [my emphases] (His written reply, by the way, had the address ‘Port Natal’ at the top.) [Bird, Annals Vol II: 481]

For some 35 years after the town of D’Urban had been named and laid out, the two names D’Urban (Durban) and Port Natal, continued to be used side by side, as it were, as we have just seen in Governor West’s reply. Goetzsche’s Father of a City3, the story of George Cato, is filled with such side by side references [my emphases throughout]

‘[in 1844]. an uneasy peace continued to pervade the small settlements of both Port Natal (D’Urban) and Pietermaritzburg …’ [p. 56]

‘the 158 ton brig Sarah Bell left Falmouth on Nov 22, 1845, arriving at Port Natal on Feb 18th 1846.’ [p. 57]

‘On March 19, 1847, Cato was appointed Consular Agent for the United States of America, at Port Natal …’ [p. 60]

A letter written by George Cato is headed: ‘Port Natal, October 17, 1852’. [p. 70]In 1854, George Cato, as first mayor of Durban, wrote a letter to Mark Foggitt, first

town clerk, headed “Port Natal, 7th September 1854”, but addressed to Mr Mark Fog-gitt, D’Urban. [p. 112]

Part of the confusion between ‘Durban/D’Urban’ and ‘Port Natal’ may have been because these two names were being used to describe two distinct physical locations. A letter/diary entry from Bishop Colenso dated 1854 suggests that the name Port Natal was used for the harbour, while Durban [D’Urban] was used for the town proper:

‘At noon this day I stepped out upon the jetty at Port Natal, a stranger among strangers, but I was very soon relieved from all uncertainty as to my future movements by the kind attention of Mr Middleton, one of the churchwardens of Durban, who had come down … to meet me.’ [Colenso quoted in Goetzche, p. 98]

Later in the same letter we find ‘I rode up from the Point, near where I landed, to the town of Durban, a distance of two miles.’


Similarly, when in 1864, John Scott, Lieutenant-Governor of Natal, laid a stone for the Port Natal light house, he was addressed as follows:

‘Sir, it affords us much pleasure to welcome your Excellency to Durban in connection with a great public improvement … We feel assured that a lighthouse at Port Natal will be no merely local benefit, but …’ [ibid p.175]

A letter written by a Miss Georgie Dunn in 1862 sheds some interesting light on the Durban/Port Natal onomastic partnership. It includes the message:

‘… when you write to me, be sure and put Port Natal Miss Dunn Post Office Durban Port Natal South AfricaThere is a Durban at the Cape and that is South Africa.’

I suspect, though, that Miss Dunn has confused ‘Port Natal’ with ‘Natal’, for in 1863 (the following year), when she has moved to Richmond, she gives her address as ‘Miss Dunn, c/o J.M. Beard, Esq., Post Office, Richmond, Port Natal.’4

This is one of the last references to Port Natal that I can find, and there seems to be general agreement among historians that by the 1870s, the name ‘Port Natal’ was falling out of use, and the name ‘Durban’ was being used for both town and port.

An interesting angle on the ‘partnership’ between the two names Port Natal and Durban is given by Pettman [1985:134] who quotes Bishop Colenso as saying ‘There is no such place as … Port Natal’:

‘Port Natal may be mentioned here. This was the name by which Durban was known in the early days of the colony, and by which it is known to mariners. Colenso says: ‘Port Natal is to Durban what Port Philip is to Melbourne, that is to say, there is no such place as either Port Philip or Port Natal, these being only names applied to the towns of Melbourne and Durban, considered as ports5.

The memory of Port Natal still lingers in the use of the Zulu name Ebhodwe. Doke and Vilakazi’s Zulu-English Dictionary [158:41] say that as a name, eBhodwe, (derived from ‘Port’) refers to Natal. Not Port Natal, note, but Natal generally. It is not clear whether the use of the word eBhodwe in the following refers to ‘Natal’ (i.e. south of the uThukela), or to Port Natal:

‘It was the Imihaye regiment … which killed off the white people at Ndondakusuka, the white people from eBodwe [derived from the words Port Natal]6’ [Stuart Archive V p. 38]

In 1854 the borough of Durban was proclaimed, with boundaries considerably wider than those of D’Urban in 1835. The new borough had as its boundaries the Indian Ocean, the uMngeni River, the farms Springfield, Brickfields and Cato Manor, the uMbilo River, and the Bay of Natal. This last, with the ‘Bay of Natal’ as a boundary, rather than as a part of Durban, suggests that ‘Port Natal’ was still outside the official borough boundaries.

The names ‘Port Natal’ and ‘D’Urban’ can still be found, but now only as names of institutions. Port Natal is the name of a well-known Afrikaans-medium school in Durban, as well as of a number of other institutions, such as Port Natal Bowling Association, Port Natal Bulk Stevedoring, Port Natal Engineering and Port Natal Marine Club. Durban’s only sea-scout troop is the Port Natal Sea Scout Troop. On the other hand, only the Hotel D’Urban in Cato Square still retains the spelling of the erstwhile Governor of the Cape [Durban Telephone Directory].


The name ‘Durban’ also occurs in the form eMdubane, a name used by Zulu-speaking youth and still current today7.

Let us now look at other Zulu names for Durban, beginning with eThekwini and the debate about its meaning that provided the readers of Durban’s morning newspaper The Natal Mercury such amusement during the period November 1978 to January 1979.

The meaning of eThekwini8 As we saw in the quote from the Durban Metro website, it is the bay which gives Durban its Zulu name eThekwini. EThekwini is the locative form of the noun itheku (‘bay’, lagoon’), and the form iTheku is frequently used by Zulu speakers when the name is used in a non-locative context. Zulu speakers will say “ngihlala eThekwini” or “Ngiya eThekwini” (‘I live in Durban’, ‘I go to Durban’ – the locative contexts), but “ITheku yigama ledolobha lethu” and “Itheku yindawo engilaziyo” (‘Durban is the name of our city’ and ‘Durban is a place I know’, i.e. the non-locative contexts). Both forms are therefore valid in Zulu, depending on the context.

The derivation or meaning of the name eThekwini as ‘place of the bay’, ‘place of the lagoon’ was not debated until a correspondent to The Natal Mercury said that as a recent immigrant to Durban, he had heard that the Zulu name for the city was ‘Thekwini’ and could anyone tell him what this meant. Several ‘armchair experts’ immediately wrote in with the information that ethekwini was the locative form of the Zulu noun itheku (‘bay’, ‘lagoon’), and that Durban was therefore the ‘place of the lagoon’ in Zulu.

And there the matter might have rested. or, at least, there it would have rested had not an unidentified correspondent with access to a Zulu-English dictionary pointed out that an alternative meaning for the word itheku is ‘the one-testicled thing’, suggesting that Shaka’s warriors had so named Durban because of the shape of the bay when seen from the hills of the Berea. Durban’s residents were furious at this suggestion and a number of letters followed decrying this theory.

Then came one from Louis Rencken of Eston, who stoked the flames by quoting the Reverend A.T. Bryant:

Sir, – This is something for the worthy citizens of Durban to ponder: the origin of the Zulu name for Durban, “Itheku”, locative Ethekwini”, as explained by the worthy Reverend A.T. Bryant in his work Olden Times in Zululand and Natal page 500:

‘Over the Tukela, Shadwa9 sped on his way, along the coast, till finally held up by a broad and calm lagoon flanked by beautiful wood-clad hills and connected by a narrow channel with the ocean. Looking down upon the oval lake from the adjacent hills, the tribal wag playfully dubbed it the “iTeku” (or One-testicled thing), a name the local natives have since affixed to Durban (eTekwini), built around the land-locked bay.’

This quote from the Reverend A.T. Bryant prompted Sighart Bourquin, a well-known authority on Zulu history and language, to write in defence of the ‘place of the lagoon’:

Sir – With reference to the letter which appeared in your paper on November 29, under the heading “Origin of Durban’s Zulu Name”. I have no quarrel with the well-known linguistic knowledge of both your correspondent Mr. L.T. Rencken and his source of information, the Rev. A.T. Bryant, in regard to the words “Itheku” and “Ethekwini”.


However, to reassure the residents of Durban who might have felt dismayed at the meaning of Durban’s Zulu name10, I believe that the Rev. A.T. Bryant must have given his version, as quoted by Mr. Rencken, with his tongue in his cheek because the same Rev. Bryant, in his Zulu dictionary (1905) gives two meanings for the word Itheku, viz, (a) a person or animal with only one testicle, and (b) a bay, or lagoon. The same two meanings are given in Doke and Vilakazi’s Zulu Dictionary (1948). There are, of course, many Zulu words which have more than one meaning. The second meaning in this particular instance seems to have been of Lala origin11, hence its application to the Bay of Natal.

In any case, the story about the tribal wag, although amusing, must appear tenuous because I very much doubt whether, having regard to the vastness of Durban bay, its then mangrove-fringed beaches, and the relative lowness of the surrounding hills, any observer could really have formed an idea of its shape and the particular “one-sidedness” suggested by the first meaning of “itheku”.

Clearly some readers of this debate found the issue more amusing than offensive, and the tongue-in-cheek approach that Bourquin ascribes to Reverend Bryant was itself adopted by David Dale, who wrote a week after Bourquin’s letter the following, this time bringing in the heavy guns of Harry Lugg and Bishop Colenso:

Sir – The letter from S. Bourquin (Dec 12) refers to Durban’s Zulu name ‘eThekwini’. Does it mean “The place of the bay or lagoon” or “A person or animal with one testicle”? Basing one’s reply on such authorities as the late Harry Lugg12 one must side with Mr Bourquin on the “lagoon” version.

In the first place the Zulu is most apt at giving clear and concise names to people and places. And in the second he does not, in dealing with personalities, resort to intimacies. Indeed, his conversation generally lacks those bawdy or coarse references found in other tongues13.

Mr. Bourquin remarks that “itheku” has two meanings, like so many English or Zulu words, but to apply the testicular reference in this instance is surely not in keeping with Zulu custom or outlook. If, however, and for sake of argument, the pudenda observation was deliberate, why did the observation not go the whole hog and include the Bluff in the geographical picture? The Bluff, after all, lies in immediate juxtaposition to the lagoon, and with its Zulu name of “Isibubulungu”, meaning a “long sausage-like or bulky thing”, at once demands inclusion in the aforesaid name. And the Zulu, always acutely observant, would never have missed this point (or angle) had he intended to translate the layout into testicular topography.

Further credence that the testicle is the basis of Durban’s Zulu name is posited by the intelligent and erudite Janie Malherbe. In her excellent history Port Natal she remarks that the authoritative J.T. Bryant [sic] gives “iteku” this interpretation, but at the same time notes that Bishop Colenso, who wrote the very first Zulu dictionary, does not, by omission, support that meaning. Colenso’s reading is “an open mouth of a river or bay”.

Venturing what seems to be an explanation of the omission on the Bishop’s part, Mrs. Malherbe offers – I interpret the ploy with every respect – a delightful piece of rationalisation.

“Could it not be,” she asks, “that this was an improvisation by a prudent Bishop for propriety’s sake?”


It’s here that we look at the Bishop … with reverence. His Zulu name was “Sobantu” – “the father of the people”, a v.i.p. standing that has inspired one wag to observe: “a paternal promiscuity which, taken literally, proclaims a vigorous marital history.”

This is an aside, perhaps, though with a tongue-in-cheek relevance that could set the Bishop up as a knowledgeable and worldly, as well as a spiritual and practical, officer. And mark this, one obviously ready to include in his dictionary interpretations of a variety of Zulu words pertaining to the pudenda and the more intimate functions of the body.

The fact, I think, rather negates Janie Malherbe’s suggestion that Colenso’s omission of “iteku” and its interpretation in the testicular sense, was an episcopal “improvisation” based on “prudence” and “for the sake of propriety”. No man, not even a Bishop, can detrouser himself for one purpose, and at the same time keep his shirt on to deactivate the effect of such an exposure.

So, in conclusion, and with a gamesy lighthearted counterplay to cope with any misinterpretation of my gesture, I leave Janie and her fellow protestants for the testicular character of Durban’s Zulu name, with the ball, as it were, in her court.

One may have thought that this closely-reasoned letter, however tongue-in-cheek, would have marked the end of the matter. But no, the readers of The Natal Mercury had not yet heard from Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi, who, writing from Ulundi some two weeks later, contributed the following:

Sir – I have no intention of entering the controversy of the original meaning of the word “Itheku”, the Zulu name for Durban. I, however, wish to point out that in this part of the country where I grew up, the Zulu word for a person or animal with only one testicle is “Ithweka”, not “Itheku”.

But I would not dispute that it may well be that in some other parts of the country people use “Itheku”. I just think that for the record I must point out that Zulus in this part of the world know the word as “Ithweka”.

I am sorry that my contribution will not throw more light on the controversy on Itheku.

It is not clear whether the editor had been waiting for an authoritative statement from Chief Buthelezi or not, but it was at this point that he declared the correspondence closed, leaving his readers to decide, on the evidence presented, whether they believed the lagoon or the testicle theories. Suffice it to say, that in the nearly thirty years since this correspondence took place, I have never yet seen the city of Durban produce tourist brochures describing their city as ‘the city of the single testicle’. A pity, that. They could have promoted Durban as the place where visitors could really have a ball.

David Dale, in his letter quoted above, says that ‘Mr. Bourquin remarks that “itheku” has two meanings, like so many English or Zulu words, but to apply the testicular refer-ence in this instance is surely not in keeping with Zulu custom or outlook.’

However, Elsa Pooley, in her book on the trees of Natal [1993:106] gives as one of the Zulu names for the Tonga-kerrie (Cladostemon kirkii) the word umthekwini, a clear reference to the single small round fruit on the end of each stem14. This word is not in Doke and Vilakazi’s dictionary, but it is clearly the locative form of um-theku, and I cannot imagine the relevance of the ‘bay, lagoon’ meaning here. This must be, to use Mr Dale’s phrase, a ‘testicular reference’.


‘Testicular reference’, again, is the only possible interpretation of the hill near Natal Table Mountain called ‘Spitkop’ or ‘Spitz Kop’ in Afrikaans, but according to Stayt (confirmed by Bryant; Dictionary p. 761) called by the Zulus inTweka, which as we will remember from Chief Buthelezi, is the word people in his area use if they wish to refer to a beast with one testicle. Stayt says:

inTWEKA: “inTWEKA, The Hill Resembling a Testicle” – Spitkop near Table Mountain opposite Camperdown.” [1971: no page number]

I took a photograph of Spitkop/iNtweka in 2003 from the top of Natal Table Moun-tain, looking across to the west, but from this angle the hill appears as a sharp pointed pyramid. Perhaps it looks testicular from below.

We could also perhaps consider another name mentioned by Bryant [Dictionary p. 756], the Zulu name for Mount Erskine in the ‘Bushman’s River Range’, which he gives as kwaMasende (‘the place of the testicles’). From these and similar references to breasts and other more private body parts in Zulu toponyms, it seems that the testicular interpretation of the name eThekwini cannot be ruled out.

Before we move on to other Zulu names for Durban, a last word on the meaning of the word eThekwini, an interesting theory from Bryant [Dictionary p. 760], which seems to have escaped the notice of the various contributors to the ‘Thekwini debate’. He notes:

‘eThekwini (i(li)Theku) Durban (name prob. imported by Xosa-speaking pioneer Colonists, from Xo. i(li)-Teko, place of meeting).’

I should perhaps mention just one last variation on the form of the word eThekwini: in the izibongo15 (‘praises’) of Henry Francis Fynn, whose Zulu name was Mbulazi (also as Mbuyazi), we find the following lines:

UMbulazi weTheku!Ujoj’ ovel’ emaPondweni.…..…..Ubuhle bangizindlazi [sic] zaseManteku.

(Mbulazi of the Bay!Finch that came from Pondoland.…..…..Beautiful as the mousebirds of the Bay.) [my italics]

We have already seen that iTheku is a regular variant of eThekwini, but the variant eManteku, to my knowledge, only occurs in these oral praises.

Various other Zulu names relating to Durban iSibubulunguIn 1824, Shaka apparently made a ‘land grant’ to ‘Farewell and Company’, in a document, part of which read:

‘ … grant, make over and sell to F.G. Farewell and Company, the entire and full possession … of the Port or Harbour of Natal, known by the name of “Bubolongo”, together with the islands therein and surrounding country …’ [Fynn, 1969:87]

This name, Bubolongo, is clearly the well-known Zulu name for The Bluff, as we see


in Doke and Vilakazi’s dictionary [1958:88]: ‘iSibubulungu “The hill range which termi-nates in the Bluff at Durban” ’ derived from isibubulungu ‘long, round-topped ridge’.

It is interesting that Shaka appears to use the word to refer to the bay, rather than to the ridge which separates the bay from the Indian Ocean.

Dingane also apparently saw the name iSibubulungu as referring to far more than simply the same ridge. The following refers to a meeting between Gardiner and Din-gane in 1835:

‘Dingane then said he would from henceforth look on Gardiner as chief of the white people, and therefore personally responsible for due observance of the treaty. Gardiner pointed out he had no power. “You must have power,” said the King, “I give you all the country called Sibubulungu. You must be chief over all the people there.” ’ [Fynn, 1969:244]

Incidentally, of all the geographical features in the vicinity of today’s Durban, it is the Bluff which may have the honour of receiving the earliest recorded name. According to Malherbe [1965:2]:

‘ … [in 1497] … Vasco da Gama’s ships cast anchor in the lee of a protecting headland which we know today as The Bluff. Here they “took much fish”, and according named the headland Ponta de Pescaria.’

Some 200 years later, but still well before the arrival of Fynn and the others, the Bluff received another name, this time from stranded crew members of the Dutch ship the Stavenisse, wrecked in 1686 at the mouth of the uMzimvubu River:

‘Captain Knijff and his remaining ten men were accordingly delighted when the chance came to join the survivors of the Good Hope at Port Natal. In appreciation of the hospitality they received, the Hollanders subsequently named the headland, which we today call The Bluff, “Het Engelsche Loge” (The Englishman’s Lodge). It was known by this name for many years.’ [ibid]

If we add to this the fact that many early maps, such as Lt King’s map of 1823, show the Bluff with the name Cape Natal16, this topographical feature may have the addi-tional honour of the feature with the most different names. Nor do we stop there. In the evidence of Henry Francis Fynn before the Native Commission of 1852, cited in Bird’s Annals (11:124), we find the following:

‘The only instance in which any number of a tribe held together was in the case of the Amatuli under the regent chief, Matubana, uncle of the present chief, Umnini, who recently occupied the Bluff. This tribe have dwelt on the “Ifenya” or Bluff-lands, through twelve generations of their chiefs …’ (my emphasis)

Stuart’s informant Mazinyana (Stuart Archive II:282) says that ‘Ifenya got its name because fish was eaten there; it was not the name of a hill’. This is a curious statement; Doke and Vilakazi (1958:204) state that ifenya refers to ‘soft, moist, rich, alluvial soil”, supporting the statement of another of Stuart’s informants (II:43):

‘The iFenya is the wet or damp or moist country, i.e. the Bluff lands, the grounds occupied by Mnini. It is said to be land where crops are easily grown.’

It certainly seems as if Ifenya was used as a place name; if not for the Bluff itself, something less easily definable – the ‘Bluff-lands’ – perhaps the flats at the base of the Bluff, or the substantial valley within the bluff itself.

Finally, on the meaning of the Zulu noun isibubulungu, generally accepted in dic-tionaries as referring to a long, bulky ridge, here is a different suggestion from Charles


Pettman, writer of the first South African place-name dictionary in 1931:‘ … isi Bubulungu is the appropriate name given by the natives to the Bluff itself (uku bubula, to groan, make a noise), the waves of the Indian Ocean breaking against its base with a continuous roar.’ [1985:43]

KwaKhangela*Fynn, in reference to his first arrival at Port Natal on 10th March 1824, writes [1969:58]:

‘The bay appeared to be surrounded by bush in every direction; the only spot that was somewhat open was the locality now known as Khangela.’

My reading of this is that the name was not current at the time of his arrival.The story of Khangela/KwaKhangela/Congella is a curious one. It is generally ac-

cepted that Shaka established a military ikhanda in the Port Natal area, and that the name of this garrison – [Kwa]-Khangela – became corrupted to the name of the present Durban suburb Congella17.

Raper [2004:60] states:‘Congella: the name is said to be an adaptation from Zulu kangela, ‘to watch’, and to have originated from a garrison placed there by Shaka to observe the refugees living around Port Natal – to “watch the vagabonds”, kwa-kangela amankengane.’

In my own book on Zulu names [2002:95] I state‘Bryant tells us (644) that when the umGumanqa regiment was sent down to the flats near Port Natal to keep an eye on the newly arrived whites, they became known by the nickname uKhangela-amanNkengane (‘keep an eye on the vagabonds’), which not only gave this regiment another name, but also gave the name Congella to that area of Durban.’

And Zungu, writing about restoring the correct forms of ‘toponymic lapses’ (misspelt Zulu place names), has this to say about ‘KwaKhangela or Congella’ [1998:31]:

‘The Zulu place name originates from KwaKhangela amankengane (view the foreigners in the sea), a name given by King Shaka. To “khangela” means to look at, behold, view … KwaKhangela applied to King Shaka’s outpost on Durban Bay which is now known as “Congella”.’

And yet, there is confusion about this name. The Stuart Archive makes a number of references to the umuzi or military ikhanda with the name Kangela or KwaKhangela. A few of these references indicate that this was an umuzi of Senzangakhona, the father of both Shaka and Dingane, some refer to Khangela as an umuzi established by Shaka, either as a military garrison established in the Port Natal area, or as a ‘general’ umuzi in the Emahlabathini area (near the White iMfolozi). Most of the references in the Stuart Archive give (Kwa)Khangela as the second most important of Dingane’s establishments, after uMgungundlovu, with some informants stating that Dingane inherited this umuzi from Shaka, but most saying he established it himself.

Here are some of the references from the Stuart Archives:• Vol. II:161: ‘Tshaka had several kraals in Natal. One was called Kangela; it was across

the Umgeni, although his recognized boundary was the Umgeni.’ Webb and Wright’s footnote 10 refers to the word Kangela: ‘Subsequently corrupted into Congella, the name of a Durban suburb’.

*Kangela was the correct spelling until the orthographic change of 1949, after which Khangela was the correct spelling.


• Vol. II:205: ‘Nkobe … died in the Emahlabathini country at Kangela kraal.’ The footnote to this says ‘The emaHlabathini country … [near the] White Mfolozi was the locality where many of the Zulu royal imizi were built. KwaKhangela was one of Shaka’s imizi.’

• Vol. II:253: ‘Dukuza, also Siklebe, Dhlambedhlu, Kangela, Tulwana, were all located – in my time [say 1850–1857] – close to Nobamba, on the south side of the White Mfolozi’ [my emphasis, Stuart’s aside]

• Vol. III:100: ‘Tshaka had a kraal at the head of the Bay (Natal); probably Kangela by name. [Ngidi denies this18]. The rumour is common that he used to go to the large rock at the foot of the Bluff and bathe.’ [my emphasis, Stuart’s aside]

• Vol. III:259: ‘Kangela (Dingana’s19 kraal) was built in Pakatwayo’s district near Mandawe hill at the Emtilombo (stream) … Kangela was in good view of Maqwakazi Hill.’

• Vol. V:33: (oral testimony from Ngidi): ‘Dingana’s kraals … 1. Kangela – great kraal, at KwaMpehlela Hill where Pakatwayo had built. 2. Mgungundlovu – great kraal, the largest. At Nzungeni, on the White Mfolozi … between the Mkumbane and the Inzololo… .’

• Vol. V:39: ‘Kangela was not built by Tshaka at or near Durban. It was Ngalonkulu (the Boer-leader) [i.e. Andries Pretorius] who built Kangela; he called it after Dingana’s Kangela.’

• Vol. V:89: ‘We set out with the Kangela (i.e. the Hlomendlini, Mqumanga, Dhlangezwa, Ntontela & Kangela). (Kangela was an umuzi of Dingana – the place of his people (wa kwabo).)’

• Vol. V:91: ‘Kangela was spoken of a Kwa Kangela-qa! This kraal was built on Mpehlela hill, a hill on whch Pakatwayo had built his kraal, eMtandeni. Mpehlela was near or opposite the amanDawe hill. Kangela was about four miles from the Mhlatuze … The fountain [from] which water was got … by those living at Kangela was uNtontonto.’

• Vol. V:93: ‘… Kangela and iBongo (eBongweni) were both Senzangakhona’s kraals; they were built in the neighbourhood of Mahambehlala, an umuzi of Mpande, at the Mkukuze [rises near eShowe and flows into the Mlalazi].’This evidence – taken as a whole – is undeniably puzzling. It is unlikely or unusual for

two places to have the same name. A well-known exception to this is uMgungundlovu – a name referring both to Pietermaritzburg, and to Dingane’s great palace, the one referred to above as ‘at Nzungeni, on the White Mfolozi … between the Mkumbane and the Inzololo….’. There are two theories as to why the name of Dingane’s great palace was ‘transferred’ to Pietermaritzburg; the generally accepted theory says that when the Boers sacked Dingane’s great palace uMgungundlovu after the Battle of Blood River in 1838, the name ‘naturally’ transferred to Pietermaritzburg; the other more current theory is that this was a deliberate transfer of name by the Boers themselves, as if to say ‘see where power resides now’.

I would like to interpret the confusion around the name ‘(Kwa)Khangela’ as follows, stressing that this is a personal view, and a possible interpretation. It is not presented as ‘historical fact’.1. It is possible that Senzangakhona first used the name ‘Khangela’ for a royal umuzi.2. It seems more than likely that Shaka likewise had an umuzi with this name, but this


was not in the same location as Senzangakhona’s Khangela.3. There seems little doubt that Khangela was one of Dingane’s main palaces, seemingly

only second in importance to uMgungundlovu. It was very likely inherited from Shaka and enlarged by Dingane.

4. That Shaka established an actual garrison at Port Natal named Khangela seems in doubt.

As the word khangela means ‘look at, behold’ it is a likely name for a military garrison anywhere placed to watch approaches, and in the phrase ‘khangela amankengane’ it is a nickname for the umGamanqa regiment, who may well have been assigned to keep an eye on the Port Natal situation without actually having been physically barracked there. My main objection to the idea that such a garrison was present is the complete and utter dearth of any reference to it in any of the contemporary diaries and journals.

5. There may well be merit in the suggestion that Andries Pretorius, in establishing his camp on the shores of the bay in the 1840s, named it Khangela after the name of Dingane’s second most powerful establishment. Appropriating a name for its power, symbolic or otherwise, is and has always been common in history, and as we have seen above, this is currently a popular theory of how uMgungundlovu came to be known as the Zulu name for Pietermaritzburg. If this was indeed a precedent for Pretorius down on the Durban foreshore, it was a very recent one.

6. I suggest that over the years the nickname of the umGamanqa regiment and the name Pretorius gave his own Boer fort have become confused, and have led to the impression that Shaka actually had a military establishment at Port Natal in the 1820s and 1830s.Before we leave the question of the names Khangela and Congella, here is a

thought from Pettman, the man who gave us the ‘groaning waves against the Bluff’ (1985:43):

‘Congella … is derived from um Kangela, meaning prospect or view. The name has reference to the fine view of Durban bay and the Bluff beyond which is to be obtained from this point.’

KwaMalindeReferences to Congella and Khangela can be found in almost every book dealing with the early days of Durban. A far rarer toponym is KwaMalinde, to my knowledge only found sporadically in the oral testimony recorded in the James Stuart Archive. The name apparently referred to the flat area of Durban where today the Greyville Racecourse is found. In Volume I [p. 77], Christian Cane (also known as Lavuta), the son of original settler John Cane, states:

‘My father’s kraal was at Sinyameni. This was near the Botanic Gardens. The cattle grazed at kwa Malinde.’

Webb and Wright’s footnote here explains ‘kwa Malinde’ as ‘the Greyville Flats’. Another informant (II:278) says:

‘The flat on which Durban, race course, etc., stands, is known as Kwa Malinde. I do not know where this name comes from.’

For informant Dinya kaZokozwayo (I:109), ‘KwaMalinde is the name of the flat Durban is built on, as far as the Mngeni. This includes the Berea.’


More information comes from Dinya (I:104):‘Kwa Malinde is the Durban flat (which extends) from the Umgeni to Kangela – a flat with monkey oranges, fruit eaten by elephants, and still growing in Greyville. Amalinde is a very old name, existing before Europeans came.….‘On the Mayinde20 flat there is a rolling movement of the sea’. This is a song that used to be sung [by the Cele tribe].’

John Ogle, son of Wohlo (the Zulu name of original settler Henry Ogle) says (V:218) ‘I remember leaving “Mahinde” and going to ifenya’. Webb and Wright’s footnote ex-plains ‘Mahinde is probably a rendering of the word amayinde (amalinde) which was a designation for the flat lands of what is now the Greyville area of Durban’. ‘Ifenya’, as we saw above, was a name for the ‘Bluff-lands’.

According to Shelagh Spencer21, Lt C.J. Gibb RE, responsible for the erection of the British fort in the 1840s, wrote a report at the time of the siege of the fort, in which he refers to ‘Amallinde’ [sic].

These few references are all that I have been able to find, but I think them sufficient to establish Kwa Malinde as one of the earliest names for Durban (or at least the flat, central parts), and one which has passed into complete obscurity.

Our next, and penultimate name, alas, has even fewer references than Kwa Malinde.

eMhlumeFor this Zulu name for Durban I have only one source: Doke and Vilakazi’s Zulu-English Dictionary. One page 338, we find ‘umHlume, Durban Bay [cf. i(li)Theku]’. This meaning – a name for Durban Bay – is the third meaning given to the noun umhlume, and the first two meanings are relevant. The primary meaning of the noun is given as ‘Large tree growing along rivers, … resembling mangrove, having an astringent bark’. Pooley [1993:348, 454] gives umhlume as the Zulu word for two species of trees, of which Beonadia salicina (Transvaal Teak) growing mostly in the Lebombo Mountains seems less relevant to Durban. The other species, however, is Rhizophora mucronata (Red Mangrove) marked as occurring in Durban. Durban Bay was at one time characterised by its mangroves, and a small number still exist today. The other, second, meaning of the word umhlume in Doke and Vilakazi is ‘young, castrated animal’, a meaning which brings us from the state of singular testicle-ness contained in the word itheku to the sorry state of testicleless-ness.There is no reference that I can find to the name uMhlume for Durban Bay in any other source, but it is perhaps interesting to note [Stuart Archive Vol. II:268] that ‘Farewell built a ‘camp’ … of umhluma wood …’.

eThusiniThis Zulu name for Durban differs from many of the others in that it is a name used by a very specific group of people: those associated with the University of Natal (now the University of KwaZulu-Natal). Even today one may ask a Zulu-speaking graduate of the old University of Natal ‘Wafundaphi – eMgungundlovu noma eThusini?’ (‘Where did you study – Pietermaritzburg or Durban?’).

Most sources say that the name eThusini (the locative form of the noun ithusi ‘brass’, ‘copper’) is a reference to the gold leaf ball on the top of the dome of the first building (Howard College) of the University in Durban. Zungu, however, has a different theory, for which she unfortunately gives no source [1998:31]:


‘Further up hill from KwaKhangela was a trading centre where copper was bartered for local material. This place was known as EThusini – a place where ithusi (copper) and brass articles were sold. When the University of Natal was built in this area new names emerged …

Some of [the] students and lecturers now tend to use both names interchangeably. It is not only the African people and students who strive to preserve the former name, but non-Zulu-speaking people are also interested in knowing and preserving the history of the area, and proud to say ‘Ngifundisa eThusini’ (‘I lecture at eThusini/the University of Natal, Durban’).’

One could paraphrase Bishop Colenso here, and say that ‘there is no such place as eThusini, this being only a name applied to the town of Durban, considered as a uni-versity’.

The names and the naming of Durban todayThe City of Durban today, like many other cities and towns in South Africa with the dual identity of an African and a European name, has taken advantage of the government requirement in 2002 for all towns and cities to set up an independent, named, municipal structure. Durban, like Pietermaritzburg, has kept the ‘colonial’ name for the city, but used the indigenous name for the Municipality. Where Pietermaritzburg, though, has decided not to use the name uMgungundlovu, and has opted for the name The Msunduzi Municipality (the name of the river running through the city), Durban has kept the Zulu name for its bay, and become the eThekwini Municipality. The two names Durban and eThekwini now operate as partners, rather in the manner of Port Natal and Durban in the period 1835 to 1870. The municipal newsletter eZasegagasini Metro carries articles and reports about happenings and events in the city, with approximately equal use of the two names.

For example, in their issue of 29 April 2005, we find the following (my empha-ses throughout):

‘Tourism KwaZulu-Natal is pulling out all the stops to ensure Durban remains the host city for Africa’s premier travel and tourism trade exhibition …’ [p. 3]‘A vehicle monitoring system is to be introduced to tighten control of eThekwini’s fleet.’ [p. 3]‘EThekwini is co-hosting a Workers’ Day celebration in Durban on Sunday.’ [p. 3]‘EThekwini’s campaign to get ratepayers to use EasyPay facilities is bearing fruit …’ [p. 3]‘EThekwini is well on course to retain its AA credit rating which comes up for review later this year. The AA rating recognises Durban as the best financially rated city in Africa.’ [p. 4]

The name of this newspaper – eZasegagasini Metro – is in itself interesting. The Zulu word for ‘wave’ is igagasi, in the locative form egagasini ‘in, at, from the wave’. The word ezasegagasini is a short form of izindaba zasegagasini ‘matters from the place of the wave’. I have suggested to the editor of this newspaper that eZasemagagasini ‘from the place of the waves [plural]’ might be more accurate, and also avoid connotation of a single tsunami-like wave, but as yet have had no reply.


The use of the word igagasi to refer to Durban might be obvious enough on the surface, but in fact there is a story behind the choice of this masthead. EGagasini (place of the wave) has been a popular Zulu nickname for Durban since the 1960s. It was popularised by K.E. Masinga, the first black announcer for what was then Radio Bantu in the early 1960s. He used to refer to himself on the radio as uKE Masinga ogibel’ igagasi (‘KE Masinga who is riding a wave’) and news from the Durban radio stations became known as izindaba zasegagasini. Even today on the radio, if there is a programme of exciting forthcoming events in Durban, the announcers will put this to their listeners as kuyasha eGagasini manje (‘things are hot in Durban at the moment’).22

It is clear that eGagasini must be added to our list of names for Durban, and with the move towards indigenous language toponyms in South Africa to replace ‘colonial’ ones, one wonders whether the atlases of the future will record South Africa’s busiest port as eGagasini.

The other names for Durban and parts of Durban show no signs of revival – possibly simply because they are unknown – and there seems little or no chance that various sub-urbs of the city might be renamed KwaMalinde, iFenya or iSibubulungu. The University of KwaZulu-Natal has officially chosen the name Howard College for the campus other-wise known as eThusini. There may be a small chance of the KwaZulu-Natal Provincial Geographical Names Committee recommending to the eThekwini Municipality that they officially change the name of Congella to KwaKhangela, as ‘Congella’ as a name has managed to achieve a similar notoriety to that of ‘Umbogintwini’, now corrected to ‘eZimbokodweni’ as a river name, but still retaining its colonially mangled spelling as a suburban post office near Amanzimtoti.

One must, I think, assume that these minor but intriguing examples of Durban’s onomastic past have now faded away for ever.NOTES 1. The Pietermaritzburg Municipality (official name The Msunduzi Municipality, after the river running

through the city), does not like the sobriquet ‘Sleepy Hollow’. It refers to the city in promotional literature as ‘The City of Choice’.

2. Early names for Cape Town, according to the cover of Jenkins et al Changing Place Names. 3. Undated, but the foreword by Dr The Hon D.G. Shepstone is dated 1966. 4. I am indebted to Shelagh Spencer for passing on this information about Miss Dunn’s correspondence. 5. A footnote reference at this point in Pettman directs the reader to Colenso’s 1855 Ten Weeks in Natal. 6. Stuart’s aside in square brackets. 7. Regularly confirmed by my Zulu-speaking students at the University of KwaZulu-Natal in

Pietermaritzburg. 8. This section on the meaning of eThekwini is taken almost entirely from Chapter Ten of my book Zulu

Names. 9. Not a misprint for ‘Shaka’, as we might expect, but the name of the chief of the Luthuli clan.10. i.e. the white, or at least the non-Zulu-speaking, residents of Durban.11. Bourquin probably gets this idea from Lugg [1970:48]: ‘eThekwini. Loc. of itheku, an old, and probably

Lala word for a lagoon or estuary.’12. Mr Dale does not say so, but he is probably thinking of Lugg’s comments in his Life Under a Zulu Shield

[1975:107]: ‘[eThekwini] means a large sheet of water, and also – according to Bryant – a man or beast with one

testicle … but ithweka or possibly ntweka are the only words I have ever heard for this, but never theku, nor have I met a Bantu who has done so.

The story that it was so named by a chief driven out of Zululand in Shaka’s time cannot be accepted. The name definitely refers to water and thekwane the name of our common hammerkop, or mud lark, a frequenter of muddy pools and lagoons, confirms it.’

The logic of this last comment about the ‘thekwane’ escapes me.


13. Clearly Mr Dale is totally unfamiliar with the oral ‘praise’-poems of the Zulu people, particularly those created by women with men as the topic.

14. I guess that the English name (Tonga-kerrie) and the Afrikaans Tongakierie make similar reference, via the metaphorical reference to a knobkerrie, with its single round ball at the end of the stick.

15. Fynn, Diary (1969: frontispiece)16. While an original watercolour map dated 1839 in the possession of the Alan Paton Centre of the University

of KwaZulu-Natal in Pietermaritzburg, gives this same topographical feature the name Cape Nathaniel, clearly named after early settler Nathaniel Isaacs.

17. A bayside area of Durban, a place of wharves, warehouses and factories.18. The information about ‘Tshaka’s’ kraal comes from Stuart’s informant Meseni kaMusi. Another of his

informants, Ngidi kaMcikaziswa, was obviously present at the interview.19. ‘Dingane’ and ‘Dingana’ are both acceptable spellings. Doke and Vilakazi’s dictionary gives ‘Dingane’,

while Stuart tends to favour ‘Dingana’.20. The name ‘Malinde’ is ‘thefuya’d’ here – a style of speech which replaces ‘l’ with ‘y’.21. Pers. Comm.22. I am indebted to my colleague Ndela Ntshangase for this information on eGagasini. My mother-tongue Zulu

students also confirm this name, and have offered another unofficial nickname for Durban – kwelikaBanana (‘at the place of the banana’). I do not know how widespread this name is.

BIBLIOGRAPHYBird, J. Annals of Natal 1495 to 1845. Vol I (Cape Town, 1965), C. Struik (first published 1888).Bird, J. Annals of Natal 1495 to 1845. Vol II (Cape Town, 1965), C. Struik (first published 1888).Bulpin, T.V. Natal and the Zulu Country (Cape Town, 1969), Books of Africa.Bryant, A.T. A Zulu-English Dictionary (Pinetown, 1905), Marianhill Missionary Press.Doke, C.M. & Vilakazi, B.W. Zulu-English Dictionary (Johannesburg, 1958), Witwatersrand University

Press.Fynn, H.F. The Diary of Henry Francis Fynn (eds) James Stuart and D.McK. Malcolm (Pietermaritzburg,

1969), Shuter and Shooter.Goetzsche, E. Father of a City (Pietermaritzburg, no date), Shuter and Shooter.Jenkins, E.R., Raper, P.E. and Möller, L.A. Changing Place Names (Durban, 1996), Indicator Press.Koopman, A. Zulu Names (Pietermaritzburg, 2002), University of Natal Press.Lugg, Harry A Natal Family Looks Back (Durban, 1970), T.W. Griggs & Co.Lugg, Harry Life Under a Zulu Shield (Pietermaritzburg, 1975), Shuter and Shooter.Malherbe, Janie Port Natal: A Pioneer Story (Cape Town, 1965), Howard Timmins.Map Studio, South African Road Atlas.Norwich, O.I Maps of Africa: An illustrated and annotated carto-bibliography (Johannesburg, 1983), AD

Donker.Pettman, C. South African Place Names (Johannesburg, 1985), Lowry Publishers (first published 1931).Pooley, E. The Complete Field Guide to Trees of Natal, Zululand and Transkei (Durban, 1993), Natal Flora

Publications Trust.Raper P.E. A Dictionary of South African Place Names (Johannesburg, 1987), Lowry Publishers.Raper, P.E. A New Dictionary of South African Place Names (Johannesburg & Cape Town, 2004), Jonathan

Ball Publishers.Stayt, Don Where on Earth? Place Names of Natal and Zululand (Durban, 1971), The Daily News.Webb, C. De B. and Wright, J. (eds) The James Stuart Archive of recorded oral evidence relating to the

history of the Zulu and neighbouring peoples, Vols I to V (Pietermaritzburg, 1976,1979, 1982, 1986, 2001), University of Natal Press.

Zungu, P.J.N. ‘Toponymic Lapses in Zulu Place Names’, Natalia, Vol 28, 1998.

ADRIAN KOOPMAN

88 Creating an African university

Natalia 34 (2004), Sharon Dell pp. 88 – 90

Creating an African universityOn 9 December 2002 former Minister of Education Professor Kader Asmal announced that the cabinet had approved the final plans for a far-reaching restructuring of the institutions of South African higher education. These plans included a series of mergers and incorporations which would see the number of institutions reduced from 36 to 21.

For the universities of Natal and Durban-Westville, which were among those due to merge on 1 January 2004, the December 2002 announcement confirmed what had been widely anticipated and had the effect of galvanizing the planning processes already under way. While the universities of Durban-Westville and Natal had been positioned on opposite sides of the divide between historically advantaged and disadvantaged institutions, they had comparable mission statements and offered similar academic pro-grammes in the Durban area on campuses less than 10 km apart. In addition, voluntary steps had already been taken by educational institutions in the province towards formal regional collaboration, which had culminated in the formation of the Eastern Seaboard Association of Tertiary Institutions. Under these circumstances, legislation for some kind of unification of the institutions was not unexpected.

This did not mean that the merger did not have its critics – among both staff and students. Mass meetings with students and staff of all campuses of the former Univer-sity of Natal, chaired at the time by acting University of Natal vice-chancellor David Maughan-Brown before the official merger announcement, reflected a number of con-cerns. Among staff, there were fears of retrenchments, about the effect of the merger on academic quality and there was some outrage at what was seen as the double standards involved in a government policy which left historically white institutions such as Wits and UCT relatively untouched.

Students at the former University of Natal were also concerned about a drop in aca-demic standards and raised concerns about the politicised nature of UDW and its his-tory of disruptions and boycotts. Some students expressed the view that there had been insufficient consultation about the merger, and showed some frustration at what they perceived to be their university administration’s capitulation to political pressure.

At Durban-Westville there was a strong fear that the University of Natal, being the larger partner in the merger, would effect a takeover of UDW, thereby threatening its culture and identity. This fear persisted at various levels throughout the merger despite the signing of a memorandum of agreement by the chairmen of the two university councils, which acknowledged the ‘equal partner’ status of both merging institutions, and despite an early decision to make the Westville campus the ‘headquarters’ or official



address of the new institution. The staff and students of the Pietermaritzburg campus also expressed fears about that campus’s potential marginalization as a result of the merger process.

Among UDW students, concerns were primarily about access – in some cases entry requirements and student fees at UN were higher than they were at UDW, the latter taking pride in its reputation for providing broader access to students from previously disadvantaged backgrounds.

Managing the concerns of its constituencies became an important focus of the Univer-sity of Natal leadership. A regular merger newsletter, a merger website and an electronic discussion forum were established in September 2002 in order to keep the university community informed of merger-related developments and to receive staff and student concerns, criticisms and queries about the process.

For his part, the minister declared his official reasons for the merger of the two uni-versities as follows:1. The need to overcome the apartheid-induced divide between an historically white

and an historically black institution;2. The promotion of staff equity;3. Ensuring effective use of resources by reducing overlap and duplication in academic

programmes;4. Consolidation of existing academic programmes to enable a wider range of

programmes to be offered in response to regional and national needs;5. Consolidation of the deployment and use of academic personnel;6. Reducing the impact of unnecessary competition.

In the six months following the official announcement, both universities were expected to submit to the minister their ‘preferred name’ for the new institution, the names of their nominees for the nine-member interim council that would lead the new institution for the first six months of its life, the official address of the new institution, and assur-ances that adequate consultation about the merger and related issues had taken place with staff unions and students.

Pre-mergerWith the appointment at the end of December 2003 of Cooper as UDW Vice-Chancellor, negotiations between the two institutions intensified at a management level. The vice-chancellors co-chaired meetings between the two executives. These meetings complemented the discussions taking place within the separate institutions and those between the Council Chairs of Westville and Natal – Dr Namane Magau and Dr Alec Rogoff respectively.

One of the first public platforms shared by the two vice-chancellors was the launch in early February 2003 of the public campaign to find a name for the new institution. Guidelines for the new name were outlined and published in the press and submissions to ‘make history’ were invited from all members of the public, from staff, students and alumni of both institutions. By the end of May, the campaign had attracted over 1 500 individual submissions. However, the ultimate failure of the two institutions to agree on a name resulted in the submission of separate names at the end of June 2003, and nominations for interim council members were also submitted separately.

A series of crises at UDW during the latter half of 2003 – which culminated in a re-


port by independent assessor Bongani Khumalo recommending the dissolution of the UDW council, the stepping-down of Cooper and the appointment of an administrator – meant that the announcement by Asmal of the name of the new institution was de-layed until November 2003. In spite of his assessor’s recommendations, Asmal chose to allow Cooper to remain in his position until the expiry of his contract on December 31, 2003. Cooper went on to contest the position of interim vice-chancellor of the new institution, losing out to Professor W.M. Makgoba, whose appointment was confirmed by the interim council on 11 December 2003.

As was generally expected, Asmal announced in November that the name of the new institution would be “the University of KwaZulu-Natal”. At the same time, he made public the composition of the nine-member Interim Council to be chaired by Dr Vincent Maphai, now head of BHP Billiton SA. The announcement of the name of the new institution paved the way for a second public campaign – this time for the design of a crest, logo and motto to replace those of the former universities. Responses were invited as a part of a competition which would see the winner of the chosen design – Umlazi designer Zaba Ngubane – rewarded with a prize of R25 000. The logo was officially launched by Asmal in February 2004.

Post mergerWith the interim council and interim vice-chancellor appointed by December 2003, the new university’s birth was a relatively low-key affair. The complicated task of merging the academic functions (creating university-wide single schools and faculties across five campuses), and the relocation of certain faculties, had been deferred until 2005, while matters of governance received priority. Within the first few weeks of 2004, a 17-member interim executive management team was appointed to take the institution through its first six to 12 months and the University Council was constituted on 1 July 2004 under the chairmanship of Maphai. The establishment of the council – the highest governing body in the university – led to the next key appointment on 11 December 2004 – that of Makgoba as vice-chancellor of the new University of KwaZulu-Natal.

SHARON DELLREFERENCESAsmal, K. Transformation and Restructuring: a new institutional landscape for higher education, June 2002,

previously at http://education.pwv.gov.za/Legislation/Call%20for%20Comment/government_noticehe.htm. Accessed in 2004.

Makgoba, M. The university of KwaZulu-Natal: one hundred days; report by the Interim Vice-Chancellor (Durban: April 2004).

South Africa. Education, Department of, National plan for higher education (Pretoria: 2001).South Africa. Education, Department of, National working group, The restructuring of the higher education

system in South Africa: report of the National Working Group to the Minister of Education (Pretoria: 2001).

91Notes and Queries

Notes and QueriesAN IMPORTANT FIND IN THE RICHMOND, BYRNE AND DISTRICT MUSEUM

Contributed by Brian SpencerIn 1962 a hard-cover drawing book was handed to the Museum committee by Stafford Talbot who was in the process of emigrating to New Zealand. He had found it in The Oaks, at Byrne, the home of his grandparents Richard and Elizabeth Hosking.

The album was not in good repair. The body was detached from the boards, the first five pages were loose and twelve pages had been removed. It was observed that there was a finely hand-drawn frontispiece with the inscription ‘Elizabeth 1832’, and that there were interesting photographs, pleasing sketches and much ephemera in the book, which was then put into store.

In a recent conversation with a Hosking great-grandchild it was suggested that an examination of the volume may reveal family information, which it certainly did.

Of the photographs, nine were taken in India with only two having titles. One is of a lady being carried in a sling, with in pencil below ‘A Dandy, Nynee Tal’. The other is of a lake and steep tree-covered hills with a few scattered buildings. Below in pencil is ’Nynee Tal, N.W.P. India’. A dandy is a form of transport, being either a cloth, slung hammock-like, on a pole and carried by two men or, as in the photograph, a cloth slung between two poles and carried by four men. Naini Tal is in the foothills of the Himalayas, north-east of Delhi towards the border with Nepal.

Two of the remaining Indian photographs are of small tented camps, and four are of a large camp dominated by a marquee with a tall, rectangular, flat-roofed, entrance tent in front of it. In the views of this camp there are two elephants with mahouts and howdahs, an Indian dignitary and his entourage with a party of English men, women, babies in arms and their servants. In one photograph all the people are sitting or stand-ing behind a small tea table. The ninth photograph is of a large residence with a British official and his staff posed in front of it.

Sketch of Rome, with St Peter’s and the Vatican in the distance


92 Notes and Queries

It is the ten sketches that are of the greatest interest. Eight were taken in Italy and have in pencil below them the subject, the initials W.H. and a date running from March

to August 1824. They show scenes on the Gulf of Pozzuoli and views of Assisi, Florence, Perugia, Rome and Tivoli. All are pencil sketches with detailed architectural features. Some are incomplete, others have been enhanced with a sepia wash.

The two remaining drawings show work in progress on the Birmingham, Bristol and Thames Junction Railway. Both scenes are

in sepia. The one is described as a ‘View of the north front of the Gallery under the Paddington Canal and of the suspension bridge over it with the retaining walls in the north cutting and the excavations as they appeared in October 1839’. The description of the other is ‘View of the iron arch suspension bridge over the Paddington Canal and of the north front of the Gallery for passing the Railway under it’. Each has a note in pencil ‘Now the West London’.

According to the Dictionary of National Biography a William Hosking (1800–1861) went to New South Wales with his parents and siblings in 1809. While in Australia he

was apprenticed to a general builder and surveyor in Sydney. After the family returned to England in 1819 he was apprenticed to W. Jenkins, an architect in London. In 1824, as part of his studies for his profes-sion, William travelled for a year in Italy and Sicily where he made drawings. Of these he exhibited one at the Royal Academy in 1826 and two in the Suffolk Street Gallery in 1826 and 1828 respectively. In

1830 he was elected a Fellow of the Society of Artists. In 1834 he was appointed engineer to the Birming-ham, Bristol and Thames Junction Railway. In 1838-9 he designed the arrangement at Wormwood Scrubbs by which the Paddington Canal was carried over the railway and a pub-lic road was carried over the canal. When first executed these arrange-ments were apparently the focus of much attention. He was elected

Sketch of Tivoli

Sketch of the Birmingham, Bristol and Thames Junction Railway

Another view of the Birmingham, Bristol and Thames Junction Railway

93Notes and Queries

a fellow of the Institute of British Architects in 1835. In 1840 he became professor of architecture and engineering construction at King’s College, London.

Hosking had numerous publications to his credit. He wrote and, together with Jen-kins illustrated, articles on architecture and on building for the seventh edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica which were also included in the eighth edition. He designed a number of churches, private residences and public buildings.

In 1836 he married Elizabeth (1809–1877), second daughter of William Clowes, a well-known London printer. It was their son Richard Winchester Hosking who married Elizabeth McLeod, daughter of George More and Ellen McLeod, and in whose home, The Oaks, at Byrne, the album was found.

LUTHULI MONUMENT

Contributed by Moray ComrieThe first decade of democracy in South Africa has seen a drive to erect monuments to black people to balance the memorials to white individuals and institutions. On 21 August 2004, President Thabo Mbeki unveiled one such to Nobel laureate and ANC President Nkosi Albert Luthuli in KwaDukuza, formerly Stanger. (Incidentally, Luthuli himself preferred to spell his name ‘Lutuli’, just as he preferred the Zulu ‘Mvumbi’, meaning continuous rain, to his given Christian names, but the family now generally accepts the more phonetically accurate version of ‘Luthuli’.)

Luthuli died in 1967 after being struck by a train as he walked across the Umvoti River railway bridge. Though his health was failing and his hearing was poor, the suspicion persists that his death might somehow have been contrived. Speaking at his funeral, Alan Paton observed that ‘history will say … that a noble voice was silenced when it would have been better for all of us had it been heard’.

It is intended that these words should be inscribed on the monument. The memorial was commissioned by the Chief Albert Luthuli Memorial Project and stands adjacent to the town hall and civic council chamber at the crossing of King Shaka and Chief Albert Luthuli Streets. After a competition to find a suitable design for a life-sized memorial sculpture celebrating Luthuli’s life, the commission was awarded to Pietermaritzburg sculptor Gert Swart. Mr Swart has also sculpted the monument to the Zulu fallen at Isandlwana and the Shield of the Nation at the museum commemorating the battle of Ncome (or Blood) River, and has twice exhibited at the Tatham gallery. The gallery has his work in its permanent collection, and his carved wooden Essa cross hangs in the chapel at the Evangelical Seminary in Pine Street.

While he is the sculptor, Mr Swart attributes a full share in the conceptualisation of the monument to his wife Istine and to Pietermaritzburg architect Tony Wilson. The vision for the monument goes beyond a single statue of Luthuli. From street level, a wheelchair ramp and a broad sweep of shallow steps invite one up to the paved area where the sculpture stands, and from this a path leads between landscaped lawns to the door of the council chamber. This in itself reminds one of the interaction between ordinary people in the street and their elected representatives in council that is crucial to the democratic process for which Luthuli campaigned.


On the side of the paved area towards the town hall stands the Indaba Tree, where king Shaka himself held council as he consolidated the Zulu nation. In conceptualising the whole monument, Swart was mindful of how the idea of an African renaissance rests on recognising the greatnesses of the past and building on them. In the shaded space around the tree, and half encircling it, is placed a cantilevered bench in the stylised form of the head and horns of a buffalo – the classic battle formation of a Zulu army now put to peaceable use as a spot to sit and talk.

In similar vein, the horn motif is carried into the concrete wall curving back from the low plinth on which Luthuli stands and the wall is crested with a bronze feather, a representation of the isithwalandwe (blue crane feather) which was an ancient Zulu award for bravery. It has been adopted by the ANC as an award for meritorious service to the community, and in 1955 the Congress of the People that adopted the Freedom Charter made this award to Dr Dadoo, Father Trevor Huddleston, and Luthuli himself.

Viewed from the side, the wall is reminiscent of the head and wings of a bird – the traditional dove of peace perhaps, or a phoenix rising. Set into one end of the wall is a bronze half-circle that frames a cut out tree, an echo of the Indaba Tree which can be seen as a symbol of the nation. On the outside curve of the wall the branches end in stark thorn like twigs that simulate nerve endings that convey the pain of the people. On the inner side leaves sprout and the edges of branches are moulded to break the harsh fall of light on the bronze and suggest that the tree can now provide shade and the peace for the nation for which Luthuli strove.

Set into the hollowed trunk of the tree is a single candle, the spark of freedom burn-ing in the heart of the nation and signifying the Defiance Campaign that Luthuli led in 1952. At the base of the candle is a scroll, signifying the Nobel Peace award.

Beside the ramp and at the head of the steps rising from the corner of the site stands the figure of Luthuli himself. The statue is life-sized but no more – Mr Swart wanted to portray him as a man of the people, elevated as a leader but not some remote giant. In his left hand he holds his hat, as if he has just doffed it or is about to raise it in saluta-tion, and his right hand is rising as if to greet someone. His face has the same gladly welcoming smile, and he looks out across the busy street corner over KwaDukuza (once Shaka’s enormous homestead, so vast one could become lost in it) and towards his home at Groutville. As a passer-by who paused to watch the installation of the bronze statue commented, it looks as if he is really there, and about to speak.

And that, perhaps, is the most telling tribute that can be paid to the monument that is itself a tribute to Albert Luthuli. Paton’s prescient comment was absolutely correct – the nation would have been spared much suffering if Luthuli’s voice had been heeded in his lifetime.

THE RELOCATION OF THE NATAL SOCIETY SPECIAL COLLECTIONS TO THE ALAN PATON CENTRE AND STRUGGLE ARCHIVES

Contributed by Jewel KoopmanThe Natal Society Special Collections were moved from the former Natal Society Library in Church Street, Pietermaritzburg before it was to become the Msunduzi Municipal Library in 2005. These collections are now on permanent loan to the Alan Paton Centre

95Notes and Queries

and Struggle Archives (APCandSA) on the Pietermaritzburg campus of the University of KwaZulu-Natal (UKZN). This relocation process took place gradually between 2002 and 2004, and is now complete. The Special Collections are now available for use at the APCandSA.

The Special Collections consist of the Africana, O’Brien, Hattersley, Pamphlet and Photograph collections.

The Africana Collection consists of books which have been purchased by, or donated to, the Natal Society over the last 154 years, since it began on 9 May 1851. The original purpose of the Natal Society was not to develop a library, but rather to inform prospective immigrants of the actual conditions in the Colony of Natal. The Natal Society Library and the Natal Museum developed as the Natal Society grew. The nucleus of the library is even older than 1851, as it took over the books from the original Pietermaritzburg Reading Room, which opened in 1845, and became known as the Natal Reading Society in 1846, and the Pietermaritzburg Public Library in 1849. Some of the books in the Africana Special Collection are even older than this, having been donated by members. Some important books in the collection are those by and about Bishop Colenso. These books, and those about early missionary activities in various African countries, are be-ing used by theology students doing post-graduate research.

The O’Brien Collection came to the Natal Society after the death in 1959 of Dr William John O’Brien, who had been a member of the Natal Society since 1879 and its president from 1903 to 1905. He was an avid book collector, and had a very large private library. He played an important part in the early days of the Natal University College, as he was instrumental in obtaining a grant of 53 acres of land, on which the original buildings were constructed. Dr O’Brien was president of the Council of the Natal University College from its inception in 1910 until his retirement in 1953. The William O’Brien Men’s Residence was named after him, in honour of his many years of service to the University.

Dr O’Brien was a very civic-minded person, and sat on many boards and commit-tees. He was on the board of Grey’s Hospital for 52 years. He believed that ‘the hospital was primarily instituted for the treatment of the sick poor equally without respect to colour’. He was honoured for his dedication by the naming of the O’Brien Block at the Old Grey’s Hospital. Pietermaritzburg Technical College also acknowledged his role at the College by naming their women’s residence ‘O’Brien House’. Dr O’Brien was also chairman of the Pietermaritzburg Botanical Society for 17 years, and chairman of the Girls’ Collegiate School for many years. In recognition of his contribution towards Pietermaritzburg, he was made a Freeman of the City in 1945, and was awarded an honorary Doctor of Philosophy.

The Hattersley Collection was bequeathed to the Natal Society Library after the death of Professor Alan F. Hattersley, who had been a member of the Library since 1917, and president of the Natal Society Council from 1930 to 1933. He was the first Professor of History at the Natal University College, and was well-known as Natal’s leading historian and an author of many books on Natal history.

The Pamphlet Collection consists of some very old and rare pamphlets, where ob-scure and surprising information can be found to the delight of researchers. Some of the pamphlets are part of the Africana Collection, whereas others are part of the O’Brien Collection, and cover quite different subject matter.


The Photograph Collection consists of photographs of old Pietermaritzburg and Natal, Natal Society history and Natal personalities.

The Natal Society Records from 1851 to 2001 are also housed at the APCandSA, as are the minutes of the Natal Society Drama Group and the Cygnet Theatre pro-grammes.

Members of the public as well as students, staff and researchers, are welcome to visit and use this valuable historical collection in the Reading Room of the Alan Paton Centre and Struggle Archives. For further information, please contact Jewel Koopman, Alan Paton Centre Librarian, Tel: (033) 260 5926; e-mail: [email protected]

CENTENARY OF THE NATAL MUSEUMContributed by Bill Guest.Sir Henry McCallum, Governor of the then British Colony, officially opened the Natal Museum on 30 November 1904, with the Carbineers’ Band providing deafening entertainment within the confines of the new Loop Street building. The occasion marked both a conclusion and a beginning. It was the end of a long gestation period during which the Natal Society had struggled ever since its foundation in May 1851 to provide Pietermaritzburg with both a museum and a library in imitation of the facilities available in Britain and elsewhere in the Empire. Faced with inadequate government funding and a narrow subscription base, the Natal Society concentrated primarily on enlarging its library holdings. It nevertheless managed to expand its museum collection from the confines of a few glass cases crammed into its committee room to a separate exhibition hall. This too soon became so overcrowded with specimens that it highlighted the need for a dedicated building in which the museum could be controlled and funded independently as a government institution.

The Natal Museum Act No. 11 of 1903, which foreshadowed a new era, provided for a government-nominated Board of Trustees to assume responsibility for the new edifice, which was completed in July of that year. A far-sighted minority of museum commit-tee members favoured finding a large site outside municipal limits to allow for future expansion but the choice of 237 Loop Street prevailed, being at the city’s commercial and residential centre. Therein lay the seeds of future space constraints.

By 1904 the perennial challenges of inadequate funding, insufficient space and shortage of staff had already been entrenched. Financial considerations reduced the initial 1904 staff complement of seven (excluding cleaners) to four by 1910. There was no staff increase and few salary increments prior to 1949. The Natal Museum was fortunate in its selection of foundation staff, not least in the choice of Dr Ernest War-ren as the first Director. A doctoral graduate of University College London, he came to Pietermaritzburg with glowing testimonials after a brilliant academic career which had led to his appointment by his ‘alma mater ‘ as assistant Museum Curator and as-sistant Professor in Zoology. It was appropriate experience for the dual career that he was subsequently to pursue as head of the Natal Museum and as one of the initial eight professors appointed to launch the new Natal University College.

The first lectures were given in February 1910, with all of Warren’s classes, through-

97Notes and Queries

out his teaching career, being held at the Museum, where the University made a heavy investment in specimens and models. From 1911 to 1930, while Warren served as its chairman, all University Senate meetings were also held there. It was the beginning of a long relationship between the two institutions which was to be strengthened by research and teaching contacts between members of staff, and by the presence of a succession of local professors on the Museum’s Board of Trustees. The first of these was Warren’s protégé S F (Frank) Bush, who joined the Board in 1936 and served as its highly influential chairman between 1939 and 1969. A formal Memorandum of Agreement, which brought further mutual benefits, was only concluded between the Museum and the University in February 2003.

The link which Warren established between these two institutions was relevant to the objectives of the Natal Museum that he declared in 1904. It was to be ‘an educational force’, its collections were to be ‘of practical utility’ and it was ‘in time’ to become ‘a centre of scientific research’. Warren and his successors as head of the Natal Museum pursued these goals with varying degrees of success, as far as available funds allowed. In addition to University classes, Warren promoted the Museum’s educational function by giving informal lecture tours through the exhibition halls to school children and pupil teachers, as well as launching a series of popular evening talks for adult audiences.

As early as 1907 named duplicate specimens of birds and other species were being sent for instructional purposes to schools in and beyond Pietermaritzburg. Between 1961 and 1969 Laura Kelsall was employed to produce 669 portable ‘travelling cases’, containing appropriate teaching exhibits for circulation among outlying schools via the Provincial Library Services. In 1969 the Museum appointed its first permanent Education Officer, J. M. Z. Michau. Under the guidance of subsequent highly innovative museum educationists, including Iris Bornman, Peter Croeser and Mabongi Mtshali, it gradu-ally extended its in-house and outreach programmes to all sectors of the community, including disadvantaged learners from township and rural schools.

The Natal Museum’s collections, especially those on exhibition, have always been associated with its educational purpose, though Warren’s initial intention primarily to develop a natural history collection was soon expanded from his own particular enthusiasm for mammals to include increasing numbers of other specimens. Financial and spatial constraints, coupled with the research interests of staff members, motivated the exchange of some collections with other institutions and a concentration in certain fields. Research output was initially largely limited to what the first three heads could produce themselves: Warren (1903–1935) on diverse scientific topics, Dr Reginald F. Lawrence (1935–1948) on spiders and Phillip H. Clancey (1950–1952) on birds. In 1953 research capacity was vastly improved with the appointment of a new Director, Dr John A. Pringle (1953–1976), who published on snakes and two assistant professional officers, Reginald Lawrence and Brian Stuckenberg, who subsequently became Director (1976–1994). He and his successor, Dr Jason G.H. Londt (1994–2003), developed the Museum’s collection of flies into one of the largest in the southern hemisphere, as well as their own international reputations as research scientists.

Staff and building additions since the 1950s facilitated the expansion of other spe-cialist collections and areas of research expertise. These are associated, among others, with Oliver Davies, Tim Maggs, Aron Mazel and Gavin Whitelaw (Archaeology), Martin Hall, Graham Dominy and Frans Prins (Ethno-Archaeology, Cultural History


and Anthropology), Bruno Lamoral, Peter Croeser and Charles Griswold (scorpions and spiders), David Barraclough (flies), Dr J.D. Plisko (earthworms), Dolf van Bruggen, Dick Kilburn and Dai Herbert (land snails, marine molluscs and slugs), and Dr Judith Masters (primates, in particular African bushbabies). Much of this research output was reflected in the Natal Museum’s own publications, the Annals of the Natal Museum, initiated in 1906, and the Natal Museum Journal of Humanities, started in 1989, since 2000 known as African Invertebrates and Southern African Humanities respectively. The high quality of these journals, coupled with their extensive distribution through exchange agreements with other institutions, has helped to maintain the Natal Museum’s enviable international reputation. This is now in the care of a new Director, Luthando J. Maphasa (2003–) and his 48-strong staff.

99Obituaries

ObituariesPeter de Villiers Booysen (1930–2004)Peter Booysen, academic, administrator and vice-chancellor, associated with the University of Natal for 40 years, as well as a rugby man of note, died in February, 2004.

Born in Graaff Reinet, Booysen matricu-lated from Kingswood College, Grahamstown in 1948 and came to the University of Natal the following year as an undergraduate to study agriculture. He gained his BSc (Agric) in 1952 and his MSc (cum laude) two years later. That same year he was appointed as a lecturer in Pasture Management and Soil Conserva-tion. From 1959, the year he was promoted to senior lecturer, to 1962 he was a research assistant at the University of California while on study leave from NU, during which time he did research for his PhD in plant physiology, awarded in 1963.

Returning to Natal, Booysen quickly rose through the ranks. Promoted to professor and head of department in 1973, he was dean of the faculty of agriculture from 1975 to 1977 winning an international reputation as an agricultural scientist. He was president of the Agricultural Scientific Association of Natal in 1966 and president of the Grassland Society of Southern Africa in 1969.

As an academic, Booysen was the sole or joint author of 58 publications in the fields of morphology, ecology and physiology of range and pasture plants and range and pasture management. Of these, 47 are published in scientific refereed journals, six are of a popular nature, two are in books and three are chapters of a book.

Rugby was an important part of Booysen’s life. He captained both his school rugby First XV and the University First XV, for which he played for seven years. He repre-sented Natal on various occasions during the period 1952 to 1954. Playing days over, he was coach, vice-president and president of the University Rugby Club in sequence during the period 1956 to 1974. He served as a council member of the Maritzburg Rugby Sub-Union and of the Natal Rugby Union, of which he was also president for three years from 1981. He was a Natal selector, and a Natal representative on the South African Rugby Board.

Peter Booysen


100 Obituaries

In 1977 Booysen moved into academic management with an appointment as vice-principal of the Durban campus. In August 1984 he was installed as vice-chancellor, which post he held for seven years until his retirement in mid-1991. His period in office was a challenging one with continuing cuts in government subsidies to all universities, the advent of a non-racial student admission policy (the principal predicted that by 2010, 70 % of the university’s students would be black), as well as political tensions in the country which made their influence felt on the university community. The attempted imposition of ministerial conditions on the councils of South African universities was another highly contentious issue, one where the university took the minister to court, and won.

In 1988 Booysen was thrust into the headlines when he was sharply criticised by the then minister of education (and later state president) F.W. de Klerk for his links with a ‘terrorist organisation’ after he led a three-person delegation to a ‘Lusaka Indaba’ to meet with the banned ANC to discuss the country’s educational concerns. Ahead of the times, his initiative demonstrated afresh his determination to get on with the job. His response to the publicity was quiet background consultation with all the key constituents of the university - and a low media profile.

On retirement Booysen returned to the Eastern Cape from which he had come 40 years before. He died in February, 2004 at his home in Kenton-on-Sea of a brain tumour, leaving his wife Beulah and three children.

Retired Professor George Trotter who, as registrar of the University of Natal, worked closely with Booysen for many years, said of him: ‘Piet Booysen was an outstanding vice-chancellor. He was a wise and thoughtful man, scrupulously fair and even-handed in all his interactions with staff. He had a delightful sense of humour, and was courteous to a fault. As I recall, he was held in the highest regard by staff at all levels, by students and by the general public.’

JACK FROST

Sighart St I de B Bourquin (1914–2004)‘SB’ Bourquin (as his friends and associates knew him) was born in Cathcart in the Eastern Cape in 1915, where his father was a missionary. He was sent to Maritzburg College where he became fascinated by Zulu history, culture and traditions and used to spend hours in the library studying the subject. Thereafter he attended Stellenbosch University where he attained a BSc degree. He learnt how to speak Zulu, which stood him in good stead when he joined the Durban Corporation’s so-called Native Affairs Department in 1950. The Nationalist Government changed the name to Bantu Affairs in 1954. SB Bourquin

101Obituaries

During his tenure, he attended the funeral of Prince Mshiyeni, son of King Dinuzulu kaCetshwayo, and he and three other officials were asked at the last moment to act as pallbearers – the first white people to have participated in the funeral of Zulu royalty. SB’s friendship with the Zulu royal house continued from King Nyangayezizwe Cyprian Bhekuzulu kaSolomon to the present king, HM King Goodwill Zwelithini kaBhekuzulu. He was also a personal friend of Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi.

SB retired in 1974 from what subsequently became the Port Natal Bantu Affairs Administration Board. During his tenure in this organisation, the authority of which stretched from the Transkei to the Mozambique border, and inland for 50 kilometres, SB had to implement the removal of the shack settlements in Cato Manor, and the townships of KwaMashu and Umlazi were built under his direction. His collection of photographs and documents of this era form an integral part of the KwaMuhle Museum, now situated in what used to be his offices in Ordnance Road, Durban. SB was highly critical of the Nationalists’ rigid apartheid policy and told me: ‘I made it my policy to use discretion in applying legislation in the most humane, sensible and lenient way possible.’

He will, however, be best remembered for his vast knowledge of the military, social and cultural history of KwaZulu-Natal. His fluency in Zulu resulted in his being highly respected, and he became known to the Zulu people as ̀ Makhanda-khanda’. (‘The man with many heads’ or ‘the man who thinks with many heads’. If asked something that he could not answer immediately, he would consult his comprehensive library, return with the answer and it would be said that he ‘…goes away and thinks with another head’.) His admiration for the Zulu people resulted in his being invited to many tribal functions and ceremonies.

It was a unique treat to have been able to accompany SB to some of the most remote areas of KwaZulu-Natal to undertake research or simply to visit an historical site. On one such occasion, a group of four members of the Durban branch of the South Afri-can Military History Society joined him on a journey to the grave of King Cetshwayo kaMpande near the Mome Gorge, on the fringe of the Nkandla Forest. Ironically, we were all required to have the permission of the then Commissioner for Bantu Affairs – including SB! It involved a long walk through mountainous country and when we eventually arrived at the sacred grove housing the King’s grave, we were informed that we would be required to obtain the permission of the custodian first. This entailed another mountainous climb, and we were met at an umuzi (homestead) by the custodian, the late Mr Hambayedwa Shezi. Shezi inquired who we were and refused point blank to allow us to enter the area of the grave until SB could prove our bona fides. ‘And who are you?’, he asked him. When SB identified himself, Hambayedwa refused to believe him, saying that it was incomprehensible that the legendary ‘Bourquini’ would have taken the trouble to journey to such a remote place to hlonipha (pay respects to) the late king.

Nonetheless, we were escorted to the grave, after which Hambayedwa insisted that we return to his umuzi to partake in some traditional Zulu hospitality. SB, in turn, invited him to visit him at his office, which this grand old Zulu duly did a week later to satisfy himself, accompanied by a retinue of followers. He happened to be the inkosi of the influential Shezi people, and a direct descendant of the legendary Sigananda Cube.

Frequent visits by Zulu friends were made to the Bourquin’s homes in Overport and Westville – something that was frowned upon by Pretoria.

102 Obituaries

SB’s military career included a spell in the Natal Field Artillery, Durban North Commando (holding the rank of commandant – now lieutenant colonel) and he became second-in-command of Group 10.

SB was a founder member of the South African Military History Society and helped to establish the Durban (now the KwaZulu-Natal) branch, serving as chairman for many years. Under his guidance, it grew from an informal discussion group of a handful of members to a highly regarded and internationally respected organisation. He was also a member of the South African National Society, the Gunners’ Association, the KwaZulu-Natal Heritage Foundation and many other cultural bodies. When asked for advice on military history matters, the Department of Foreign Affairs referred the inquirer to SB.

One of these was the late Donald R Morris, whose epic book, The Washing of the Spears, was the first comprehensive history on the Anglo-Zulu War of 1879. Morris wrote, in his foreword: ‘Several debts are even greater. Mr Sighart Bourquin, Director of Bantu Administration in Durban, is an outstanding authority on Zulu history. Time and again he was able to track down information for me or to correct a point. His collection of photographic material on Zulu history is unparalleled.’ Fortunately for KwaZulu-Natal and South Africa, this material has been lodged with the University of KwaZulu-Natal’s Campbell Collections for the benefit of future generations.

Similar acknowledgements, often repeated in dozens of definitive works on the his-tory of KwaZulu-Natal, will be a lasting memorial to this great historian.

SB was married to Hilda, and had three children, Randolph, Desire and Harald.

KEN GILLINGS* This obituary was first published in the Military History Journal of December, 2004 and is reproduced with permission.

Peter McKenzie Brown (1924–2004)Peter Brown was born of a wealthy Durban merchant and farming family a n d w a s s c h o o l e d a t Cordwalles and subsequently at Michaelhouse w h e r e h e w a s H e a d Boy. It was at Michaelhouse, encouraged, so his mother told

Peter Brown

103Obituaries

me, by Douglas Pennington, that his social conscience was first awakened. After leaving school he joined the army and served in the Second World War. When he was demobbed he went to Cambridge to read for a degree in agriculture. He remained there for only a year, but, apparently affected by the words of Lionel Abrahams, decided to return to South Africa where he felt his commitment should be. Brown then went to the University of Cape Town to study African Languages and Native Law and Administration. After graduating he joined the Natal Local Health Commission, working in Edendale, where he helped found the Edendale YMCA and the KwaHlengabantu charity for the physically disabled.

He subsequently turned to farming. He was a remarkably disciplined farmer, driving early each morning to Nottingham Road from Maritzburg. Peter was much respected by his workers, largely because he worked as hard as they did. His standards were high – both for himself and for the people who worked there. At his funeral one of his work-ers said to me, ‘A big man has gone.’

In l953 Brown was one of the founder members of the Liberal Party. The party was originally under the chairmanship of Alan Paton. In 1958, so that Paton could devote more time to his writing, Brown took over the chairmanship and held that position until he was served with a banning order in 1964. The Liberal Party did not attract many members, but many of those were distinguished intellectuals. It is interesting to note that Peter’s leadership of and influence in that party was never in question. His integrity and his pragmatic wisdom gained for him that acceptance.

In 1960, a few days after Sharpeville, the Government declared a state of emergency. In Pietermaritzburg, Peter Brown, Derick Marsh and Hans Meidner were detained for a period of 98 days. I had always thought that Meidner was the toughest man I knew. He was very intelligent, clear-sighted and could be seen as almost ruthless. After he was released, Meidner told me that Brown was the toughest man that he had ever met.

In 1964 Peter Brown was among a number who were banned for five years. The banning order restricted him to the magisterial district of Pietermaritzburg and he was not allowed to attend a gathering of more than two people. There were, of course, other constraints. I recall visiting him on the day his banning order had been re-imposed. While I was there, Elliot Mngadi, whose ban had just been lifted, arrived. The greeting between these two Liberal comrades was touchingly affectionate – Brown rejoicing in his friend’s ‘liberation’, Mngadi commiserating with Brown.

Peter had the means to live virtually anywhere he chose. Despite the hardships he had to endure, he was determined that his commitment was to this country.

In 1974, when Brown’s second banning order came to an end, he once again contin-ued his fight for justice and started the Association for Rural Advancement, AFRA, an organisation dedicated to the restitution of land rights to those who had been unjustly dispossessed.

Many have been the tributes paid to Brown – obituaries even in The Times and the Independent in London. A letter to the Mail and Guardian succinctly states what Brown meant to Farouk Araie of Benoni.

We have lost a great struggle icon in former Liberal Party national chairperson Peter Brown. He forsook all that apartheid South Africa offered to the privileged minority at great risk to his personal safety and well-being.

104 Obituaries

He taught us that when government degenerates into tyranny its laws no longer bind its subjects. He was crucial in bringing abut the demise of one of the worst institutionalised systems of hatred the world has seen.

Brown made the oppressed feel they were not alone. He gave hope to the poor, friendship to the lonely, understanding to the ignorant, and helped the lost find their way.I first met Brown in l954. He invited me to spend ‘Dingaan’s Day’ weekend (16 De-

cember) with him on his farm at Giant’s Castle. The other guests, as I recall, were Alan Paton, Bill Hoffenberg, Sam Chetty, Harold Strachan and Pat McKenzie. A formidable crew. At night, we talked, we debated, we caroused. The more we caroused, the more certain we were of our opinions. In our comparative youthfulness, we ragged Alan rather mercilessly. He suffered our irreverence with a sort of understanding reluctance. In the mornings, Brown would expiate the night before by leading us on gruelling walks over the hills and, it seemed, far, far away. Peter continued having these ‘Dingaan’s Day’ weekends for nearly fifty years.

Alan Paton had a profound effect on Peter Brown, and conversely Brown on Paton. There was almost a father-son relationship between them. When Alan died Peter was, I believe, determined not to let him fade from memory. Hence, among other things, The Alan Paton Centre and The Paton Centenary Celebration.

Brown was a generous man – sometimes amusingly so. On one occasion a health inspector came to examine the school I ran. He demanded new stainless steel tables, new sinks and new lavatories. I mentioned this, by the way, to Peter. A little later I received a cheque in the post with the following short letter. ‘Dear Mitchell, Here is something to help put new sinks in your kitchen, or new seats in your shit-houses, or to act as a preliminary sweetener to your fete – or to put more whisky in your glass. You decide which. Regards, Peter’

More importantly when the school moved from being, as it were, a ‘private’ Private School, he became chairman of the Trust – a role which he filled with distinction and with remarkably pragmatic advice. From the year in which the Trust was founded until the time of his death, he never missed a single meeting.

Though well-off, Brown was splendid in his plainness. He was part Roman, part Quaker. There was about him an unmistakable gravitas, but there was, too, a sardonic humour which infused his personality. Those of us who knew him well were fuelled by his friendship and sustained by his example.

On the tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Ancient Rome were inscribed the words ‘I honoured my gods. I served my country. I loved my friends.’

This might well have been the fitting epitaph for Peter McKenzie Brown.

JOHN MITCHELLEditor’s footnote: Subsequent to his death the Msunduzi Municipality (Pietermaritzburg) has decided to include Peter Brown’s name amongst those to be honoured in the proposed street re-naming process.

105Obituaries

Archbishop Denis Eugene Hurley omi (1915–2004)Archbishop Denis Hurley OMI of Durban died suddenly of cardiac arrest on 13 February 2004 at the age of 88. He had just returned from celebrating the golden jubilee mass of Fatima Convent, Durban North, a school which he had opened in 1954. He died peacefully in the car in which he had been driven back to his retirement home, Sabon House, in Congella.

In his childhood and youth Denis Hurley had profound experiences of light and dark-ness which were to shape his whole life.

The son of an Irish lighthouse keeper fa-ther and a pious Irish mother, he grew up at a succession of lighthouses along the South African coast: Cape Point, Robben Island, East London, Clansthal (near Umkomaas).

While a pupil at St Thomas’ School, Newcastle he was lost in a cave with two other boys for 20 hours. They lost their way when young Denis stumbled and dropped their torch. In the total darkness of that cave, deep underground, Denis made a promise that if they came out alive he would become a priest – a promise kept with the utmost fidelity.

Having matriculated at St Charles’ College, Pietermaritzburg, he was sent to Ireland for his basic training in the missionary congregation, the Oblates of Mary Immaculate, and then to Rome where he completed licentiates in philosophy at the Angelicum and theology at the Gregorian University, and where he was ordained in 1939.

His encounters in Rome with brilliant black students from other countries were an eye-opener for the young Hurley who had grown up with typical white South African attitudes of that time. He made a special study of the Catholic Church’s social teaching and keenly discussed with his fellow-students the Young Christian Workers’ ‘See-Judge -Act’ method, perhaps the major influence of all his overseas study.

Returning to South Africa in July 1940 he was assigned to Durban’s Emmanuel Cathedral, and his intellectual ability led to his being chosen at the age of 29 to head the new St Joseph’s Scholasticate in Pietermaritzburg, where young Oblates were prepared for the priesthood. He honed his public speaking skills and sharpened his engagement with social issues by regularly taking part in Pietermaritzburg’s parliamentary debat-ing society.

On the retirement of Bishop Henry Delalle OMI, the 31-year old Father Hurley suc-ceeded him as bishop in 1947, the youngest Catholic bishop in the world at that time. For his motto he selected the scripture verse ‘Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom’, with its relevance to the South African situation clearly in mind.

Just five years later the Vatican promoted him to the rank of archbishop, once again the youngest in the world. ‘I found myself in a lift that was going up,’ he said of this spectacularly rapid rise. In 1952 his brother bishops elected him to chair the Southern

Archbishop Denis Hurley

106 Obituaries

African Catholic Bishops’ Conference, a position he held until 1961. Under his leadership the conference began to speak out against apartheid in major joint statements drafted by Hurley in 1952 and 1957, the latter describing apartheid as ‘inherently evil’ many years before the World Alliance of Reformed Churches declared it a ‘heresy’.

In the early 1950s, in response to Verwoerd’s Bantu Education Act which deprived church schools of government subsidies, Hurley spearheaded a campaign to raise funds that would keep these schools going for a number of years – a significant act of defiance of apartheid policy which did not go unnoticed by the government or by the black majority.

Hurley became ever bolder in his opposition to apartheid, addressing protest meet-ings about draconian legislation, the first Catholic bishop to be seen on such platforms in South Africa.

The great highlight of Hurley’s life was the Second Vatican Council, a major policy-making conference of the world’s 2 500 Catholic bishops (1962–1965). Chosen by Pope John XXIII to be one of the 25-member Central Preparatory Commission for the Council, he worked closely with Europe’s leading cardinals to ensure a progressive direction for this gathering.

After the Council Hurley promoted its vision with great enthusiasm in his own archdiocese and more generally in South Africa: fostering a new system of religious education for young people, making public worship more understandable and par-ticipatory, drawing laypeople into structures of consultation and decision-making. The Archdiocese of Durban became internationally known for its implementation of Vatican II documents.

The Council had broadened his vision and made him aware that many Third World bishops faced similar struggles. He began to realise that what he had been doing enjoyed the support of the overwhelming majority of the world’s bishops. This gave him a new confidence to adopt a more activist role in his opposition to apartheid.

In his capacity as President of the SA Institute of Race Relations (1965, 1966) he gave major addresses, most notably ‘Apartheid: Crisis of Christian Conscience’, a masterly demolition of ‘separate development’.

But Hurley was also moving away from a purely academic opposition. When the Limehill removal was threatened, he not only denounced the government proposal, but was present in solidarity on the day of the removal, frequently visited the people to hear their problems, and published a list of the small children who died as a result of the uprooting. The cabinet minister responsible for the forced removal was outraged.

When in 1974 the government made it illegal to call for conscientious objection to military service, despite the threat of severe penalties, Hurley openly supported the South African Council of Churches’ resolution on the subject, identified himself with conscientious objectors, and gave evidence in court on their behalf.

Hurley frequently called for church campaigns to end apartheid, but was often disap-pointed by a poor response. He learnt that for an effective response, the church needed to be organised. This meant structures, budget and fulltime staff for justice and peace work. Thus he founded Diakonia in 1976 to help Durban churches pool their efforts.

Having publicly backed the integration of church schools from the early fifties, Hurley was delighted when in 1976 some nuns began to admit black pupils to white schools,

107Obituaries

despite the law. His vigorous defence of their action helped prevent the government from closing the schools.

Elected president of the SA Catholic Bishops’ Conference for two further terms (1981–1987), Hurley was scathing in his criticism of police and army misconduct in the Vaal Triangle and in Namibia. Remarks he made about the Koevoet special police unit led to his appearing in the dock for defamation, the first time in 30 years that any archbishop had been charged. The charges were dropped when it became clear the state would be severely embarassed by the evidence Hurley’s legal team had assembled.

With the backing of Durban’s Legal Resource Centre in 1985 he successfully ap-plied for the release of a Section 29 detainee, the first-ever court ordered release of this kind. Law students still study the ground-breaking case of ‘Hurley and Another vs the Minister of Law and Order’.

Workers too enjoyed Hurley’s powerful support. He let them meet in church prem-ises to keep united during the Frame Group strikes of 1980 and donated church land to the dismissed Sarmcol workers for income generation in 1985. ‘We want to throw the moral weight of the church behind their struggle’ he said of the unions.

There has been a price for Hurley’s high-profile stand for justice – much criticism from inside and outside the church. KwaZulu-Natal MPC Brian Edwards called him an ‘ecclesiastical Che Guevara’, Minister of Justice, Jimmy Kruger, seriously considered banning him, President PW Botha angrily wagged his finger at him during a meeting with a delegation of bishops, and Hurley’s house was petrol-bombed. Truth and Recon-ciliation Commission investigations revealed that along with four other church leaders, including Desmond Tutu, he was regarded as one of the state’s ‘most wanted’ political opponents – against whom the security police had to resort to smears and dirty tactics because banning and detentions were not an option for such high level clerics.

Hurley was also criticised by the left, for declining to endorse the Kairos Document (1985) and the Road to Damascus (1989), statements of liberation theology which he felt were too soft on the use of violence. Some were also disappointed about his reluctance to be associated with ‘red flags’ in Durban’s Freedom March on 22 September 1989.

One of Hurley’s last efforts while in office as archbishop was to inspire and lead a major church programme, entitled ‘Community Serving Humanity’. This draws on Latin American models of small groups meeting regularly all over South Africa for Bible sharing, prayer, reflection and social action.

Having completed 45 years as bishop of Durban, almost the whole period of Na-tionalist Party rule, Hurley was succeeded by Bishop (now Cardinal) Wilfrid Napier OFM in 1992. Hurley chose to become parish priest of Emmanuel Cathedral, one of Durban’s poorest and most difficult inner-city parishes where he remained until 2002. Thereafter he moved to Sabon House, a retirement home for priests where he began to devote more time to his memoirs.

From 1993 to 1998 Hurley was Chancellor of Natal University, one of ten universities which had given him honorary doctorates. The cities of Durban and Pietermaritzburg honoured him as a freeman. He was also decorated by the governments of France, Italy and South Africa, receiving the Order of Meritorious Service (1st Class) from President Nelson Mandela.

108 Obituaries

Halley H Stott (1910–2004)Halley H Stott, founder of the Valley Trust, died peacefully at home on 13 June 2004.

He will be remembered as a man with the vision and energy to establish a socio-medi-cal project for the promotion of health which combined practical approaches to nutrition and medical care. The wider development of Primary Health Care in the international community has been influenced by his work.

The breadth of the Halley Stott approach to health, nutrition and disease was quite excep-tional. Indeed his policies relating to community participation in health care, self-help, protection of environment, use of local resources, organic horticulture, agriculture, and stimulation of local markets were so radical and innovative in the late 1940s that he had difficulty in persuading others in the medical profession to support the proposals. Unperturbed he used his own resources to purchase 150 acres of mountainous land in the Valley of a Thousand Hills. There he built a health centre with a protected fresh water spring. This provided the spearhead to the wider project. It was a lonely path in those post-war days because most medical care tended to be curative; in contrast to his preferred approach which was to promote

Halley Stott

Many have asked why Hurley was not made a Cardinal. The reason isn’t hard to find. Just as he openly criticised apartheid, so he took positions, for example on birth control and the ordination of women, which were not popular with the Vatican. His opposition to apartheid was also regarded by the Vatican as too political.

For the first 14 years of his life, Denis Hurley watched his highly disciplined and responsible father work at lighthouses along the South African coast, ensuring that they never failed to warn and guide passing ships. At the age of 13 Denis was himself lost in the total darkness of an underground cave. He was absorbing lessons that were to last a lifetime – courageously, consistently and with the utmost clarity to let his own light shine. And with this light he helped guide the Catholic Church into the modern world, and helped bring South Africa safely to our new democracy.

Arise, be enlightened, O Jerusalem,for your light has come,and the glory of the Lord is risen upon you.For behold, darkness shall cover the earth,and thick darkness the people;but the Lord will rise upon you,and his glory will be seen upon you. (Composed by DE Hurley)

PADDY KEARNEY

109Obituaries

health. He was convinced that malnutrition should be tackled in and by the community rather than from a hospital base, also that the interplay between malnutrition and com-mon serious infections was a neglected area of medical research and practice.

Dr Halley Stott, who qualified in medicine from Edinburgh University, pressed on to establish The Valley Trust as a registered welfare organization in 1953. He then donated the property that he had developed to the Trust and he set about raising funds to support the wider project. Meanwhile he was busy leading a clinical service to the Zulu community through the Botha’s Hill Health Centre.

The Health Centre had been formally opened in January 1951 with some financial support from central government and with the blessing of local tribal leaders. Dr Stott found that there was a huge demand for local medical services. Most doctors would have been overwhelmed by the clinical demands alone but this was not his style. Instead he burnt the midnight oil and won support by speaking at fund-raising events, writing up meticulous progress reports, applying to foundations for support, and working hard to maintain communication and understanding with the local Zulu people. Study of anthropology had convinced him that an approach to ill health that struck at the root causes of malnutrition and other common diseases could be achieved if the goodwill and cooperation of the local people could be established. This meant many meetings with local people, an advisory council of Zulu leaders and serious attempts to involve traditional healers without compromising either scientific principles or their own cred-ibility.

Leaders in the World Health Organisation were quick to recognize the importance of the Valley Trust Socio-medical Project and by 1958 they had commissioned Dr Halley Stott to produce a report for them on the work in the Valley of a Thousand Hills. This commission was part of a worldwide search for innovative but practical approaches to rural health care. The WHO report was widely circulated but The Valley Trust did not receive full recognition from the international community for many years because other forces were at work in South Africa. The country was rapidly entering the phase of apartheid and international isolation. The Valley Trust thus had to develop and operate with limited support from officialdom during the early decades.

However the Trust was founded on humanitarian and scientific principles that stood firm despite the political dogma that was splitting the nation. Suspicion from many quarters could be dealt with in an open and principled way. This was a problematic phase and all those who worked for The Valley Trust needed to be people of integrity with a clear understanding of the principles upon which the organisation was founded and a realistic view of the social and political structures in South Africa.

From the earliest days the work of the Health Centre and Valley Trust were closely integrated and day-to-day success depended of key members of staff being willing to work across traditional disciplinary boundaries. Nurses and health assistants and doctors would try to help patients with nutrition related problems to understand that their illnesses were the result of lifestyle choices. They were then helped by others to consider changes through the use of practical demonstrations of food choices, food preparation to protect nutrient content and simple methods of home food production. The methods promoted in the Nutrition Demonstration Unit were always within easy reach of those on low incomes and based on research into how to grow good quality food in poor soil conditions.

110 Obituaries

A broad approach to health involves almost every aspect of life in a community. The Valley Trust thus became involved in enabling recreation facilities, strengthening school teaching and equipment, cultural activities, development of basic infrastructure, employment and environmental protection. These activities depended on the active par-ticipation of the local Zulu people as well as the benefactors who supported the Valley Trust programs. Success also depended on the maintenance of constructive relation-ships with local and national government and a willingness to work with sensitivity in a rapidly changing society.

Halley Stott and his advisors realised early on that wider acceptance and spread of the promotive approach to health would be best served by The Valley Trust becoming a teaching and learning organisation. Hence trainees began to attend the Trust for train-ing. Students of medicine, nursing, dietetics and agriculture were sent to the Trust for short attachments or day visits, and a range of scientists from local universities began to take an interest in the social and clinical impact of the broad approach to health. A key feature of the work was a continuing programme of research and investigation to inform policy and practice. This was documented carefully in annual reports from 1953 onwards and some was published in scientific papers.

In his later years many awards were bestowed on Halley Stott for the work of the Valley Trust but he was always so aware that these tributes were not for him alone. They represented recognition of the whole Valley Trust team and the work done over many years.

Public recognition came to The Valley Trust as trainees and students carried the ideas elsewhere and as the annual reports and publications arising from the Trust’s work became widely available.

Halley Stott was always so grateful for the early support that the Trust received from Rotary, Round Table, Oxfam, SA Sugar Association, many churches and indi-vidual bequests and donations. He also received honours from a number of bodies in his later years:

1970 Rosicrucian Order title ‘Humanitarian’, USA1980 Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh1980 Honorary DSc University of Natal1981 Jubilee Award, College of Medicine of South Africa1982 Paul Harris Fellowship, Rotary International2000 Michaelhouse Centenary Award.

However, the greatest public recognition is the fact that the work of The Valley Trust has continued to grow and develop in the decades since Halley Stott relinquished his role as a trustee.

Halley Stott was the fourth generation of Stotts to work in Natal. His grandfather and great-grandfather had been Methodist missionaries in Natal and his father was an architect and land surveyor who was a lay preacher and member of Natal Provincial Council and Durban City Council. Halley was married to Joyce (nee Greathead) for 65 years. She was always his strongest supporter and helper. She predeceased him by four years. They were both strongly family orientated and they enjoyed five children and 17 grandchildren.

He will be greatly missed in many circles.KEITH WIMBLE

111Book Reviews and Notices

Book Reviews and NoticesTHE PAINTINGS OF THE BAY OF NATAL: A SELECTION OF WORKS DATING FROM 1845 TO 1982by Nigel Hughes. Foreword by Gillian Scott-Berning. Privately Published 2001. 196pp. Available from Mertrade (Pty) Limited, P.O. Box 412487, Craighall 2024. [email protected]. Standard cloth edition R595,00. Half leather with slip case de luxe edition R1 595,00.

This is a very appealing book that satisfies in many ways. With its format and weight, the cloth-bound review copy sits comfortably in the lap as the pages are turned (something which is not true of all books of this kind) and the typeface, set in two columns, is clear and easily read. In hue and tone, the colour plates appear to be accurate reproductions of the original works – this was certainly the case in those instances where this reviewer was able to compare prints with the original paintings.

The period spanned by the paintings – from 1845 to 1982 – is that during which the bay was changed from a shallow stretch of open water set about with sandy beaches and mangrove swamps to a fully-functioning modern harbour. Although the book is not intended as a history of the bay, in a prelude to the plates the author briefly traces the development of the harbour, using details obtained from the British Admiralty Chart 643 showing corrections made between August 1856 (when the first chart was made after white settlement) and March 1974. The seventeen charts, together with the explana-tory text that accompanies them, give a concise but clear overview of the impact of development on the once pristine lagoon. The figures all show detail of sections of the chart, however, and this reviewer felt the lack of a broader view – a single map of the whole bay and its environs, or perhaps a pair of maps showing the original topography in comparison with the contemporary port. The author also rather takes it for granted that his readers will know the location of the places and features referred to in the text, and this is not necessarily true of people who are not familiar with Durban.

Hughes acknowledges that his selection of paintings is entirely personal, but then why not? Together with the frontispiece, there are 73 large plates which is a generous and representative enough offering. Just as he does not intend this to be a history of the port, so Hughes disavows any intention to write a dissertation on the artists and their works. Such major painters as Maud Sumner, Gwelo Goodman and Clément Sénèque are represented, but there is indeed minimal comment on the merit or significance of the paintings as art works. The text that accompanies each plate tends to point to features of interest in the subject matter rather than comment on artistic style or technique, and the set of notes on the artists that follows the plates provides brief biographical information rather than critical appraisals.


112 Book Reviews and Notices

This is perhaps a disappointing omission. Hughes disclaims sufficient expertise to make such comment, but a short chapter on the place of the paintings in South African art history would have enriched the book. As it stands, however, it could still be a resource of considerable interest to the art historian. Many of the early paintings were done to provide, in the absence of photographs, painstakingly accurate views of the topography and vegetation. Several paintings by Cathcart William Methven, Harbour Engineer from 1888 to 1895 and a very competent painter, are faithful depictions of the changing harbour and its environs. Some works record particular events or notable scenes: Perla Siedle Gibson’s watercolour of Sunderland flying boats, for example, or Nils Andersen’s view of HMS Repulse at the Point, while the same artist’s 1941 painting of troops boarding the Ile de France has even a propagandist thrust. One W. Langmead painted the harbour entrance for a publicity poster, and Methven in 1903 sketched a proposal for the development of the Victoria Embankment. Sénèque and others are less concerned with accurate representations and more fascinated by the painterly potential of the forms, the light and the colours of the bay and its shipping, while Maud Sumner appears to have had an hour or two of fun dabbling with her watercolours as she looked out of her Marine Hotel window.

With each picture Hughes is able to identify a notable feature, place the scene in the context of the developing harbour or changing shipping patterns, or provide a snippet of interest. Perla Siedle Gibson’s 1942 painting of the hospital ship Amra at Maydon Wharf, for example, is accompanied by a pertinent extract from the autobiography of the ‘Lady in White’, a brief account of the previous and subsequent history of the ship, and even a comment on the Swedish flag glimpsed at the stern of the next ship along.

The whole book is visually pleasing and a diverting read. The provenance of each painting – date, medium, size and present location – is given; comparable views are cross-referenced; there is an index; and for those seeking further information there is a select (but quite extensive) bibliography. Old Durbanites will appreciate this book with a pleasure tinged with nostalgia, and the early paintings of the pristine landscape may well evoke a deeper sadness for what has been lost.

MORAY COMRIE

MAKE A SKYF, MAN!by Harold Strachan, Johannesburg, Jacana, 2004. 260pp. R148,00

In reviewing Harold Strachan’s first book Way up, way out in Natalia 28 (1998), I said I hoped he was working on a sequel. He was, and this is it. Though much of this book deals with events and experiences in Port Elizabeth and Pretoria, it comes easily into Natalia’s purview by virtue of the author’s Pietermaritzburg roots, his second trial in that city on charges under the Explosives Act, and his long residence in Durban, a city about which he writes entertainingly and affectionately. Since the publication of Way up, way out Strachan has become known to an even wider public through his regular columns in The Witness, Weekend Witness and the journal noseweek.

Make a Skyf, Man! covers the period of Strachan’s life in the nineteen-sixties when he became involved in active opposition to the South African apartheid regime; spent three years in prison for acts of sabotage; just before his release faced another similar charge on which he was acquitted; and picked up the threads of his life in Durban once more.


In the lead-up to his brief career as a saboteur, we learn something about the chain of command in the resistance organisations, and Strachan does not conceal his poor opinion of the dogmatic Marxism of the leadership that was often received with amused contempt by the front-line activists. Someone he calls Jack Hodgson, with his constant boring dialectical materialist interpretations, comes in for scathing treatment, as does Joe Slovo, whom he refers to as Yoshke.

‘…but within a year or two Yoshke has blown too, against specific Central Committee decision and directive, leaving the modest David Kitson … to carry the ramshackle responsibilities of the Communist Party into the unpredictable chaotic unMarxist future, and get bust doing it and push twenty years while Yoshke, a right piteous victim of the system, goes off to Marxist majesty at Hampstead Heath, there to be-moan the loss of his rightful real estate at Sea Point … and to flood the world with righteous revolutionary claptrap, finance provided by Cold War slush funds.’

By far the greater part of the book covers Strachan’s time in prison. As sentences go, three years is almost ‘short-term’, but as a political prisoner in the old South Africa he spent a long period in solitary confinement, with no privileges whatever, and on one horrendous occasion unexpectedly heard the voice of his friend and comrade Max among those singing and shouting in the death cells in the days leading up to their execution. As I read Strachan’s graphic descriptions of life as a convict in Pretoria Central, the questions uppermost in my mind were how he managed to survive mentally, and how I would have fared in that situation.

‘So, how do you describe eleven months of solitary, then? … If I were to describe the repetitious trifling details of each day’s worth of trifling routine over such a stretch of time, it would make but boring reading, whereas if I were to sustain a lively interest in this narrative from you, dear reader, you might just get the idea that this almost-year of nothing happening was lively and interesting. … Well it wasn’t. It was madness of the animal brain. …’

Yet he survived, and as he looks back on the horrors, his wry humour is never far below the surface, and that probably helped him through those three years. That and his imagination. With hardly any human contact and no reading matter, one of the de-vices he employed to make temporary exits from hell was to work through elaborate practical projects in his mind, sometimes taking weeks or even months to do so. So, for instance, his lifelong fascination with flight leads him in imagination to acquire an old Tiger Moth, obtain all the materials and tools needed, and after painstaking inspec-tion begin the task of repair and restoration. A little bit every day. Remember where you got to yesterday, and carry on from there. Such tough-mindedness, ingenuity and determination compel one’s admiration.

The crudities and cruelties of prison life are laid bare, and not every reader will have the stomach for them, but it is fare that South Africans need. Indeed it was partly due to Strachan’s revelations when he was released that the regime’s hideous prison practices and its total disregard for human rights were exposed to general condemnation. He provided the Rand Daily Mail journalist Benjamin Pogrund with material for a series of articles on prison conditions, and for that was convicted under the Prisons Act and served another jail sentence – but that is beyond the scope of this book.

Strachan has a good ear for the mixed English and Afrikaans speech of ordinary South Africans, and uses it freely and realistically. (A non-South African reader may possibly wish there were a glossary to help them appreciate the full flavour of some of


the unfamiliar words and phrases.) Where he wishes to conceal real names, his inven-tion is Dickensian: there are people like Mr Justice Zelftevreden, the Special Branch officer Van de Gruweldaad, Warrant Officer Van Vuurwapen, Chief Warder Stephanus van Rijswater and the prison psychologist Lt Van den Beestekraal.

As an example of the quality of Strachan’s writing, one must mention the episode in Chapter 9 when he is being taken by police car from Port Elizabeth to Durban, and they stop for evening refreshments at the home of the hospitable police station com-mander at Kokstad. The description of the interaction among the security policemen, the ordinary policeman and his wife, their small children and the prisoner in transit is a masterpiece, and some time before Make a Skyf, Man! appeared, Strachan deservedly won a literary competition when he entered it as a short non-fictional piece. Who can forget the scene when the prisoner, after months of harsh police detention, sits at a tea-table, and draws pictures in an autograph book for two little children, in their dressing gowns and slippers. ( ‘Pappie thê oom ith ‘n kunstenaar.’ ‘Ja, dis waar.’ ‘Thal oom vir my ‘n kwagga teken?’ And he does.)

I found Make a Skyf, Man! compelling reading. I cannot imagine anyone wanting to put it down after a few chapters and come back to it a week later. Strachan has been a flier, an artist and art teacher, a political activist, a picture restorer and (he would probably insist on this inclusion) a keen fisherman. We can be thankful that he is also a writer.

JOHN DEANE

FROM CANE FIELDS TO FREEDOM: A CHRONICLE OF INDIAN SOUTH AFRICAN LIFEUma Dhupelia-Mesthrie (Editor).Cape Town, Kwela Books, 2000. 276pp. illus. R254.00

This is a well produced and impressive coffee-table book containing a large collection of photographs which show all aspects of Indian life. A brief foreword by Professor Kader Asmal and a page of acknowledgements are followed by a scholarly overview of the history of the Indian people in South Africa from the arrival of the first indentured Indian migrants in 1860 to the present time.

It also discusses one of the current debates as to whether Indians are more attached to India than South Africa – are they Indian South Africans, South African Indians, Indian people who merely live in South Africa or are they South Africans first and foremost?

The treatment of Indians in this country in the 20th century – the discriminatory laws forcing people to carry passes, to pay unjust taxes or be re-indentured, efforts to persuade them to return to India in the 1920s and the 1930s, the Pegging Act and other land tenure regulations introduced to limit the amount of property owned by Indians in the Natal cities – all are mentioned here.

The Introduction continues with an account of the effects of the Group Areas Act of 1950, the effect of various other apartheid laws and the strong opposition of some of the Indian population to these.

It concludes with a section on the post-1994 period and the concerns of less affluent people in the Indian community at the present time. The author provides endnotes to all her 190 references to books, journals and newspaper articles.


The photographs contained in this book were found in libraries and museums, docu-mentation centres and private collections, and provide views of everyday life over the 140 years since the first Indian immigrants began to arrive. The oldest photographs, taken in the 1870s and 1880s when the subject had to remain still while the photographer covered himself with a black cloth and adjusted his half-plate camera, are of extraordi-narily good quality. In fact they are clearer than the overly dark modern pictures when the subject was often on the move and the lighting less perfect.

This is not just a collection of action photographs of groups and people on the move, of houses and shops. There are also interesting photographic studies of individuals re-vealing their personalities, their clothing and their occupations. An excellent example is that of Amod Bayat, a Pietermaritzburg trader in the 19th century, with his strong face, distinctive beard and wearing the type of loose clothing that caused the locals to refer to them as ‘Arabs’. The study of the rope-maker at Salisbury Island is quite outstanding and the printers are to be congratulated on the high standard of reproduction of these old photos. Other studies reveal the life and work of hawkers carrying their panniers, filled with fruit and vegetables, over their shoulders.

Something of the poverty of the rural Indian, struggling to make a living, can be seen in the pictures of market gardeners against a backdrop of shacks along the Kwa-Zulu-Natal south coast. There are also excellent photos of Indian families outside their dwellings and dressed up for the occasion. More recent inclusions show the interior of Indian shops, details of temple decorations, dancing and religious celebrations and political protests. There is a host of other interesting and unusual photographs and, if most depict Indian life in Natal, this is not surprising in view of the longer history and larger populations of Indian people in this province.

The book includes sections entitled ‘Indentured workers’; ‘Free Indians and traders’; ‘Private and Public Lives’; ‘Gandhi and After’ and ‘From the Family Album’ and would have been improved had a table of contents been included directing the reader to these sections. Nevertheless, this is an excellent publication and both Professor Dhupelia-Mesthrie and Kwela books are to be congratulated.

JOY BRAIN

GIANT’S CASTLE – A PERSONAL HISTORYBy Bill Barnes. Edited by David Johnson. Privately published 2003. 290pp. illus. approx. R170,00

It is a great pity that Bill Barnes did not live to see the publication of his book on the history of the Giant’s Castle Game Reserve in the KwaZulu-Natal Drakensberg – he died shortly before it appeared. He had completed the bulk of the text at the time of his death and David Johnson, ornithologist to the erstwhile Natal Parks Board with whom Bill had been closely associated, took on the task of final editing. With the assistance of ex-colleagues and friends of Bill, photographs were selected and the final preparation of the manuscript for publication was undertaken. Had Bill lived to see the finished result, he would not have been disappointed.


The creation of the Giant’s Castle Game Reserve and the appointment of its first ranger, Sydney Barnes, made the reserve the first in Natal to have resident staff. Barnes took up his appointment in October 1903 and his first task was to build living quarters for himself at Witteberg where a track of sorts from the outside world terminated. Barnes lived and worked from his meagre quarters for three years before his acrimoni-ous dismissal towards the end of 1906. He was followed by Roden Symons who was appointed to the position of forester-in-charge of Giant’s Castle Game Reserve at a salary of £10 per month.

Bill Barnes had a rugged introduction to Giant’s Castle. Symons had offered his father Phil Barnes the post of assistant conservator there in 1913. He accepted the post and five years later, he met and married Rose, one of Nell Symons’ four sisters. In August of 1927 Rose Barnes packed her bags and set off by ox wagon for Pietermaritzburg for the birth of her third child, Bill, on 9 September 1927. Six weeks later the infant Barnes and his mother completed the last 20 km of the journey back to Giant’s Castle in a sledge drawn by eight oxen. Bill Barnes had arrived in Giant’s Castle!

Through his long association with the reserve during his youthful years, until his retirement from the Natal Parks Board, Bill Barnes was intimately connected with the history of Giant’s Castle and he was the ideal person to document it. To a large extent, the story of Giant’s Castle is very much the story of Bill Barnes.

In accordance with the conservation ethos in vogue at the time of the reserve’s proclamation, emphasis was immediately placed on the destruction of ‘vermin’ in or-der to encourage an increase in the antelope, partridge and fish populations. In 1910 a devastating slaughter of lanner falcons resulted in 21 of these birds being shot in one year, and giant kingfishers too were exterminated whenever they were encountered. The early records in diaries of 1912, such as the one that reads, ‘I went out this afternoon after eagle. Shot one on its nest which had two eggs’ make the mind boggle today.

Following military service in the Second World War, Bill returned to South Africa and was sent to Royal Natal National Park to establish a trout hatchery. In April 1956, following the resignation of Edward Thrash who had taken over from Phil Barnes, Bill, who by then had married Leila, applied for and got the post of ranger-in-charge of Giant’s Castle. Much of his book deals with the conservation of antelope such as the eland and red hartebeest, and also the reintroduction of black wildebeest and blesbok. It also covers the introduction of alien species such as impala, Indian black buck and Java rusa deer, all of which eventually disappeared due to the harsh nature of the terrain.

Other chapters in the book deal with the control of the jackal population in the area, the establishment of the mountain huts, the Langalibalele rebellion and the rock art of the reserve.

For me, the most absorbing chapter is the one dealing with the lammergeyer and the efforts of Bill and his friends to abseil down the sheer cliff face at Mokhotlong in Lesotho to obtain photographs of this rare bird on its nest. It was a mission of epic proportions. The nail-biting description of that first descent to the eyrie and their first view of the ‘piercing red eyes, golden plumage of the breast and the black beard of the bird’ that the nest contained, make riveting reading. The success of their efforts led to the establishment of the first lammergeyer hide in the reserve, from which visitors could view and photograph these rare birds for the first time.

Those of us who knew Bill knew that he could be irascible and difficult at times and


Leila, his wife for 49 years, perhaps knew better than anyone else how Bill could behave and had come to terms with it. The final chapter of the book contains reminiscences by friends and colleagues of Bill’s occasional erratic behaviour. Rusty Barnes, Bill’s son, tells the story of how, in a fit of pique his father hurled a solid silver platter of freshly baked scones out of the lounge window whilst entertaining staff from head office, be-cause they did not contain the fresh cream and jam that he had ordered!

But Bill was a compassionate man as well. David Johnson tells the story of a fishing trip that he went on with Bill when Bill caught a small trout in the river. As he yanked the fish out of the water, it flew over his head to land on the road a good 30 metres away. Scrambling through the barbed wire fence, Bill picked up the dust-covered trout that was flapping in the road and carefully removed the hook. Taking it back to the river he washed off the dust and grit before gently placing it back into the water and sending it on its way with the words ‘Sorry chap, didn’t mean to do that. I’ll be more careful next time’.

Apart from the wealth of information contained in the text, the historical photographs in the book add greatly to its appeal, and here again we have Bill’s interest in photography to thank for the documentation and preservation of all the old photographs he could get hold of. Much of the history of wildlife conservation in KwaZulu-Natal has been lost to posterity and we are fortunate that this important addition to the conservation record of the KwaZulu-Natal Drakensberg has made its appearance. It will certainly appeal to everyone who has an interest in the natural history of our province.

REG GUSH

Giant’s Castle – A personal history is obtainable from David Johnson, 156 Golf Road, 3201 Pietermaritzburg. Tel 033-3867661, email [email protected] or from the ABC Book Shop or Cascades Book Shop, Pietermaritzburg.

118 Select List of Recent KwaZulu-Natal Publications

Select List of Recent KwaZulu-Natal Publications

BAILEY, Gerald Chilton. Seven months under Boer rule. Dundee: R.A. Burns, 1999. 112pp. illus. ISBN: 00958-4046-5-8. R110,00. Anglo-Boer War experiences of the Vicar of Dundee.

CAMPBELL, Roy. Campbell in context; ed. by Jean-Philippe Wade and Judith Lutge Coullie. Durban: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2004. 734pp. illus. (Campbell Collections electronic publications series). CD-Rom. R300,00.

CAMPBELL, Roy. Selected poems; ed. by Michael Chapman. A.D. Donker, 2004.COOPER, Michael Robert and GOODE, Douglas. The cycads and cycad moths of

KwaZulu-Natal. New Germany: Peronceras Press, 2004. 98pp. illus., maps. (The Ihlati series). ISBN: 0 620-31978-X. R250,00.

COOPER, Michael Robert and COOPER, Michael Dirk. The Emperor moths of KwaZulu-Natal. New Germany: Peronceras Press, 2002. 103pp. illus., maps. (The Ihlati series). ISBN: 0-620-29623-2. R220,00.

CRESSWELL, Evelyn. A conspiracy of stars. Durban: the Author, 2004. 50pp. R35,00. A book of poetry.

CRESSWELL, Evelyn. Touched and touching. Durban: Kwasuka Theatre Co., 2002. 41pp. R20,00. A book of poetry.

CROOKS, Fred. Giza: a unified plan based on nature’s law. Pietermaritzburg: the Author, 2004. 97pp. illus., diagrs. ISBN: 0-620-32516-X. R100,00.

DAVID, Saul. Zulu: the heroism and tragedy of the Zulu War of 1879. London: Viking, 2004. 467pp. illus., maps. ISBN: 0-670-91474-6. R234,00.

DHUPELIA-MESTHRIE, Uma. Gandhi’s prisoner?: the life of Gandhi’s son Manilal. Cape Town: Kwela Books, 2004. 419pp. illus. ISBN: 0-7957-0176-4. R175,00

EKSTEEN, Louis J. Die Voortrekkerbegraafplaas Pietermaritzburg. Pietermaritzburg: Natalse Voortrekkergrafte en Monumentekomitee, 2004. 70pp. illus., diagr. ISBN: 0-620-31680-2. R30,00.

ELLIS, Chris. Communicating with the African patient. Pietermaritzburg: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2004. 131pp. ISBN: 1-86914-039-7. R77,00.

eTHEKWINI. Municipality. Making city strategy come alive: experiences from eThekweni Municipality, Durban, South Africa. 125pp. illus., maps, tables. Durban: Corporate Policy Unit, 2004. ISBN: 0-620-33014-7. R100,00.

FERREIRA, Anton. Sharp sharp, Zulu dog. Bellevue: Jacana, 2003. 142pp. ISBN: 1-919931-91-0. R122,00.


119Select List of Recent KwaZulu-Natal Publications

FOX, J. David. The history of Fort Nottingham, 1856-2005. Fort Nottingham: Published by the author, 2004. 72pp. illus., map. R100,00.

GENNRICH, Daniela. The Church in an HIV+ world: a practical handbook. Pietermaritzburg: Cluster Publications, 2004. 190pp. illus. 0-620-31611-X. R50,00.

GOVENDER, Buddy. Emmanuel Cathedral, Durban, South Africa, 1904–2004. Durban: the Cathedral, 2004. 46pp. illus. R30,00.

HERBERT, Dai and KILBURN, Dick. Field guide to the land snails and slugs of eastern South Africa. Pietermaritzburg: Natal Museum, 2004. 336pp. illus., maps, diagrs. ISBN: 0-620-32415-5.

HOLMES, Kevin. The sea’s my solace. Pietermaritzburg: Arrow Print, 2004. 172pp. illus., diagr. ISBN: 0-620-32095-8. R112,00. Available from the author at P O Box 457, Howick, 3290.

JACKSON, F.W.D. Hill of the sphinx: the Battle of Isandlwana. London: Westerners Publications, 2002. 83pp., illus., maps, diagrs.

KATHRADA, Ahmed. Memoirs. Cape Town: Zebra, 2004. 400pp. illus. ISBN: 1-86872-918-4. R194,00.

KEARNEY, Brian Thomas. One hundred years of the Durban Light Infantry Drill Hall, 1904–2004. Durban: the Regiment, 2004. 24pp. illus. Free.

KEARNEY, John A. Representing dissension: riot, rebellion and resistance in the South African English novel. Pretoria: UNISA Press, 2004. 366pp. illus. ISBN: 1-86888-204-7. R177,00.

KOTZE, Steve and SHAW, Angela. Durban in a nutshell. Durban: Nutshell Publications, 2004. 60pp. illus., map. ISBN: 0-620-32051-6. R79,95.

KROG, Antjie, ed. the stars say ‘tsau’: /Xam poetry; selected and adapted by Antje Krog. Cape Town: Kwela Books, 2004. 62pp. illus. ISBN: 0-7957-0175-6. R102,00. A selection from the records of interviews undertaken by Dr W.H.I. Bleek and his sister-in-law Lucy Catherine Lloyd in the early 1870s with San prisoners working on Cape Town’s Breakwater. Lucy was a daughter of Durban’s first clergyman, Archdeacon W.H.C. Lloyd.

LIVINGSTONE, Douglas. A ruthless fidelity: the collected poems of Douglas Livingstone; ed. by Malcolm Hacksley and Don Maclennan. Grahamstown: NELM, 2004.

LIVINGSTONE, Douglas. Selected poems; ed by Michael Chapman. Johannesburg and Cape Town: A.D. Donker, 2004. 158pp. ISBN: 0-86852-230-9. R97,00.

LOVELL, Moira. Not all of me is dust. Pietermaritzburg: University of Kwa-Zulu Natal Press, 2004. 46pp. ISBN: 1-86914-058-3. R77,00.

McLEOD, Donald F.C. Life at Blarney: my memoirs. Malvern: umSinsi Press, 2004. 56pp. ISBN: 1-86900-548-1. R35,00.

MANNING, Allan. Misadventures of Attorney Shudder and other stories. Hilton: Trayberry Press, 2002. 111pp. illus. ISBN: 0-9584582-6-X. R50,00.

MURRAY, Bruce and MERRETT, Christopher. Caught behind: race and politics in Springbok cricket. Pietermaritzburg: University of the Witwatersrand Press and University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2004. 256pp. illus. ISBN: 1-89614-059-1. R164,00.

120 Select List of Recent KwaZulu-Natal Publications

NDLOVU, Siphelele. Indaba kaBabiza//Babiza’s story. (Unesco’s ‘By children for children’ series). Durban: UNESCO, Hivan and MiET Africa, 2004.

NICHOLSON, Christopher. Permanent removal – who killed the Cradock Four? Johannesburg: University of the Witwatersrand Press, 2004. 296pp. ISBN: 1-86814-401-1. R179,99.

NUTTALL, Michael. St Patrick’s Church, 1904–2004. Pietermaritzburg: Cathedral of the Holy Nativity, 2005. 24pp. illus. R20,00.

OLIVER, Jo. Ibukhu lokucathulisa abasaqala ulwazi ngezinyoni zethu. Wessa Publications, 2004. Zulu translation of A beginner’s guide to our birds. ISBN: 1874975094.

PHELPS, Abel. Sunshine and shadows: a collection of South African short stories. 2nd ed. Empangeni: Echoing Green Press, 2004. 160pp. ISBN: 0-9584711-1-8. R120,00. First published in 1991.

RAKOCZY, Susan. In her name: women doing theology. Pietermaritzburg: IHMCluster publications, 2004. 476pp. ISBN: 1-875093-43-3. R120,00.

RITTER, Ray R. The moon goddess: last of the Drakensberg Bushmen. Published by the author, 2004. 252pp. illus. ISBN: 0-620-3236-6. R157,00.

THOMPSON, Paul S. Bambatha at Mpanza: the making of a rebel. Pietermaritzburg: Published by the author, 2004. 153pp. maps. ISBN 0-620-31692-6.

WALKER, Joan. Wild flowers of KwaZulu-Natal. 2nd ed. Kloof: Walker family trust, 2004. 289pp. illus. ISBN: 0-620-29827-8. R446,00.

WEINBERG, Paul. Travelling light. Pietermaritzburg: Unversity of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2004. 109pp. illus. ISBN: 1-86914-056-7. R245,00.

ZULU, Musa E. The language of me. Pietermaritzburg, University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2004. 116pp. illus. ISBN: 1-86914-037-0. R128,00.

Acknowledgment in the compilation of this list is made to Mrs Colleen Cook of Cascades Bookshop and the staff of Exclusive Books, Liberty Mall.

natalia 34 (2004) complete

Documents

james stuart

unacceptable

dinganes great

rio de natal

de jagers

principal

henry francis

volunteer