The Cape and the Kaffirs: A Diary of Five Years' Residence in KaffirlandWard, Mrs.
History
The Cape and the Kaffirs: A Diary of Five Years' Residence in Kaffirland
Ward, Mrs.
South Africa -- History -- Frontier Wars, 1811-1878
Among some of the most remarkable things we observed were the ant-hills,
that were scattered all over the face of the country through which we
passed. On a green plain they reminded us of hay-cocks in England,
being about that size. Their similarity in shape to the huts built by
the Fingoes, Kaffirs, and, indeed, almost all savage nations, is not the
least curious feature in their appearance. I had imagined that the ants
themselves were the only architects of these ingenious buildings, but I
was told by the Hottentot drivers that they take possession of a hole
which has been forsaken by the mole (which, indeed, they sometimes
attack and hunt out of its domicile), and thus obtain a foundation, on
which to begin the upper works of their establishment.
In consequence of the second day's march having been divided into two,
we did not reach Sly Kraal (twelve miles from Graham's Town) till
Saturday. Ere we did reach it, however, we were overtaken by the most
terrific thunder-storm I had ever witnessed, save on the night of our
memorable wreck in Table Bay. Those who have never witnessed one can
have no idea of such storms as those to be met with in South Africa.
All the artillery of heaven seems opening at once, while floods of light
struggle for mastery with torrents of rain and hailstones. The
knowledge that such storms are often attended with danger, makes their
approach more awful. The place where we were overtaken by the one to
which I allude was a barren spot, only varied by rocky eminences here
and there, and scattered over with loose stones and pieces of rock. The
horizon was bounded by vast mountains, the tops of which were vividly
illumined by the continued blaze of the lightning. The ground soon
became so slippery that it was considered almost unsafe to proceed; men
and officers were drenched to the skin, and there, in the height of the
storm, we, poor helpless crowd, were obliged to await its progress and
abatement. The waggon conductor, Pullen, (a most amusing character, as
well as a useful and obliging man), was as much to be pitied as any one,
since many who were annoyed with the detention, would not listen to
reason, and were very much inclined to quarrel with him for it. As for
me, I could hardly bear to see the little flasks of brandy handed about
among the few to whom it could be distributed, while the weary, thirsty,
shivering soldiers stood by, looking on. The violence of the hail and
rain decreased at last, and we essayed proceeding, but had not gone far
before we were obliged to descend from our vehicles, as one of the
passes had become dangerous, from the softness of the earth in
consequence of the rain. Well may it be said, "God tempers the wind to
the shorn lamb!" Many who might have caught cold in moving from one
room to another less heated, awaited the passing of the waggons up to
their insteps in water, and went on their journey with damp feet, and
with rain drops pattering through the tops of the waggons.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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