SOUTH AFRICA | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 15, 1900

SOUTH AFRICA.

[The following private letter from Sister Sara Willson, we are permitted to print. It will be of interest to all our readers, and especially to the many acquaintances of Brother and Sister Willson. —Ed.]

KIMBERLEY, SOUTH AFRICA, Oct. 31, 1899.

Dear —— and ——: I am going to write you a few lines to-day; but I have no idea when there will be a chance to send it, as we are entirely cut off from the outside world. No telegrams, no trains, nothing but “Boers,” and they are all around us. We are well protected by forts and barriers and intrenchments. Our water works have been blown up, but the reservoir was full, and now they are pumping from the pan of the Wesselton mine, so we are well supplied for the present. The Boers have blown up the railroad bridges, torn up the track, and cut the telegraph wires, so we are living in a world of our own. There is a system of some kind by which they get word from Cape Town, but I do not know what it is. The soldiers have a signal system for their own use. I heard yesterday that they will not repair the line for three months yet, but will conquer the country first. I hope it will not be that long, for I do not just relish the idea. Wish I could send you some of the daily papers we are getting now; but you probably get a good deal from the papers at home. I never was in a war before. The news went to Cape Town that we were all dead or taken prisoners, and it may have crossed the “big water;” but I assure you we are all very comfortable thus far, and I hardly think the English government will let us suffer, if it can be helped. There has been only one battle near here, about five miles out; four were killed and eleven wounded. I saw some of the wounded as they were brought in. One of the soldiers was telling a few moments ago that they used the X-rays on them, located and extracted the bullets, and had them all in bed inside of two hours, and all have nearly recovered. The battle was over a week ago. The home is about deserted, as all the men have joined the volunteers or the Home Guards. Many of them spend part of the day here, and sometimes take a meal, but have to be on duty, or sleeping at the Drill Hall at night. They have to sleep with their clothes on, even to their boots. Our wood yard has sold all its wood, closed up, and most of our help will quit to-night; the rest work without wages, and are at liberty to go any time they can get a job elsewhere. We have sold one horse, and will sell the other. We have four refugees here, and a number come in for dinner only. The government furnishes one meal a day to all refugees, and lodges, I think, but I am not certain.

They are casting about to see how much food there is still in the city, so we know how soon they must plan supplies here. We are under martial law, and the government sets prices on everything, and we get foodstuffs at the old price as yet; that is, the substantials,—the luxuries are higher: for instance, butter is seventy-five cents a pound, and eggs are one dollar a dozen.

By the way, we have had to get used to English money, but it is quite natural now; and on the street I feel quite at home turning to the left. There are so many things that are different from the States, and I think I would like to tell you about them as they happen, or my mind is called to them; but when I write, I forget them. I went into a store (shop in this country), and asked for some gingham. The clerk looked at me inquiringly, so I asked him what they called it, after I pointed to what I wanted, and he said it was zephyr. Calico is print, and muslin is calico. Molasses and syrup is treacle. I do not think of anything else, but these are a few words. Hardware stores are ironmongers, and lumber is timber, etc.

Our rooms are quite American in looks, and the people who call seem pleased with the furniture and arrangement. The houses here look much alike on the outside, as they are built of sun-dried brick, plastered over, then painted. They are also plastered on the inside, and calcimined or papered.

Nov. 11, 1899.

Will write a few lines now, just in the time of excitement. I suppose you are reading accounts of the war every day, and wondering what has become of us. Well, we are right in it yet, but are still all right. I wish you could know how it is with us. We are entirely shut off from the world, as far as mails and telegraphs go, but a little news comes occasionally by dispatch riders. The Boers are all around us in large numbers, but they do not come near enough for the English to fire on them from the forts, and the English are not strong enough to go out and drive them off. Last Saturday they (the Boers) sent word to take care of the women and children, for they were going to shell the place within twenty-four hours; but they did not begin until Monday morning, when they sent sixty shells at a lively rate.

N. B. These holes were made by a Boer shell that went through, while on our desk, Nov. 14, 1899, at 1:15 P. M. This hole was made by bullets from a chain-shell, nine-pounder.

Nov. 16, 1899.

Again I will attempt to write you. I will send all I have written just as it is. I had started to tell you about the shelling of the town last Saturday morning, and left the letter lying on the desk in the office, intending to step in and finish it soon; but time slipped along until Tuesday at 1:15, when they began shelling again. We were in the dining room, having just served dinner to the men, and had stepped to the front door to listen to the whistle of the shells, and watch where they struck, as they were falling thick all around us, when one struck very near. We rushed to the back to see

where, and found it had gone right into the office and exploded, tearing things to pieces generally. There are seventy-two holes in the walls and furniture. The chair that I sit in to write,—and just as I left it when writing to you,—has a piece taken out of the back. The desk is badly torn to pieces, one piece going right through my letter to you and the paper under it. Jared, Floy, and I were standing together, and about ten feet from where the shell exploded; but there was a thick wall between. One piece of shell went partly through the wall. We were certainly very thankful to the Lord for such an escape. We were right in the path of the shell; and had it exploded in the next room, where our whole family was at the time, it would probably have meant instant death to every one of us at once. A Kaffir boy stood on the step directly under where the shell entered the building. He said he thought he was “doded” (dead). A church near us was badly torn with a shell; a bar in another direction near us; a horse was killed nearly across the street from the same bar at another time. A Kaffir woman was killed while going to her work early Sabbath morning.

This has been quite a new experience for us. A prominent brother in our church here was arrested for treason, and is now in jail. We trust he will get out when the war is over; for we do not think he was guilty, although it was proved against him. He is Dutch, so they would naturally watch him.

Feb. 21, 1900; 3 A. M.

I was awakened at midnight by a drunken man, and after lying awake for three hours, decided to get up and write you so as to get it off on the first mail. It is a long time since I wrote any on this letter; but I had no disposition to write as I could not send it, and then I was so very busy. Our baths were closed for four weeks on account of the water supply being cut off by the Boers. Then it was arranged to pump from a mine at Beaconsfield; so we were allowed to open again by being careful of the water, and we have done a good business ever since. The work has increased every week until it crowds us now, and Jared and I have had to carry it alone and also at the home, as all the help left when their wages stopped. Some went to work on the road and boarded here, working nights and mornings and Sundays to pay their board. This helped us some. Now I have a good colored girl to help me, and I hire some washing and cleaning done besides; still I have to work very hard. We have many soldiers in for baths, and Jared has three for daily massage, and another every alternate day. We have earned considerable money during the siege. Have kept the home going all right, paid several debts, and have over two hundred dollars to our credit in the bank, and have not run in debt a cent. This we regard as pretty good, considering the home was running in debt at least two hundred dollars a month when we took it.

Well, the siege was a long, tedious thing. We put in supplies for three or four weeks and it has been one hundred and twenty-four days, exceeding everybody’s expectations. We had enough to eat, though it was rather plain some of the time, and we drew rations for the family, the same as everybody else. We had a small garden from which we had some green stuff for ourselves, and were able to sell over twenty-five dollars’ worth to some people who wanted something green to eat. We had string beans, cucumbers, and lettuce. Have some ponderosa tomatoes ready to ripen now. At the beginning of the siege, we had a few bushels of potatoes, which we sold for over three dollars a bushel. The necessaries were kept down to original prices by the military, but the luxuries went up. Potatoes went as high as twenty-five dollars a bushel; eggs, five dollars a dozen; butter, one dollar and a half a pound. There was a long time of quiet waiting for relief, in which the Boers did not do much, nor the English either. The Boers finally got a ninety-four-pound gun ready, and began shelling the town. We were right in their range, so came in for our share. February 9 one of their ninety-four-pound shells struck our east wall, shattering it badly, but hurting no one, although J. V. and I were standing at the front, about fifteen feet from where it exploded. The 12th another, a one-hundred-pound schrapnel, struck in the same place, tearing the wall down, breaking two windows for us, and damaging the next building to us. These large shells struck many buildings near us. A man was killed about a block from us, and Mr. Labram, about three blocks away. There were many marvelous escapes. Floy stayed with a friend who had a bomb-proof, as she was quite nervous. Jared and I were the only persons on our premises one night; and one night we slept out of doors, with four brick walls between us and the shelling. When the large shells began coming in freely, word was sent to the Relief Column that Kimberley could wait no longer, and so General French’s flying column hurried in, riding for six days, hardly stopping to eat or sleep. The Boers got word somehow, took down their big gun, and got away as fast as they could. General French is after them, and it is rumored that he has surrounded them. There was quite a demonstration when General French arrived, and there would have been more had all the people known it; but he came in suddenly, and only stayed one day. Cecil J. Rhodes was in Kimberley during the war, and did very many kind acts. He has a fine large garden at Kenilworth, a suburb, and he sent fruit to many families of rich and poor. We shared with the rest to the amount of four half-bushel lots of peaches, one-half bushel apricots, one-half bushel nectarines, and some grapes and vegetables in small lots several times. We think we like him. He sent an invitation to women and children to go down in the mines during the shelling. We went over; but there was such a crowd we came back again, and were all right at home. We feel very thankful to the Lord for his tender care over us all through, and we saw many tokens of his guidance and protection. We just trusted our lives in his hand, and felt sure he would keep us.

I did not get this letter off in this week’s boat as I had intended, so will add a few lines. The Relief Column reached here Thursday night at 7:30, February 15. The railroad was repaired and ready for business the next Monday night, but only provisions were brought in at first. No mail came until Thursday, and we did not get a thing until Friday night just before sundown. Then thirteen letters came, and more to-day,—all October and November mail. No papers as yet. We will not do much but read and write, I guess.

We received a letter from Elder Hyatt and a prepaid (both ways) telegram from the Claremont Sanitarium this morning, asking of our welfare. We had already written. Jared, Floy, myself, and a colored girl are all the workers here now at the home. Many have gone to Cape Town on the free tickets furnished by the government. We do not care to go, but may be sent for to attend the conference to be held in about a month. The military have everything in their hands, and will hold it until the war is over, I suppose. We must have a permit for nearly everything we buy, and the rations are about half what one needs. We are all thin in flesh on account of scarcity of food, and the hot weather and hard work, of which we have had a plenty; but have kept well all through, and will soon pick up when the strain lets up a little. The work has been very prosperous during the siege, and we are glad to have been here. We have heard the whistle of the shells till they are quite familiar; but nevertheless, terrible. We are so glad we hear them no more.

CAPE TOWN, March 5, 1900.

This morning finds Floy and me here at the mission. We decided rather hastily to come down with some friends, so we left home Thursday at 7 A. M., reaching here on Sabbath, at 3 P. M., and were gladly received by the friends here, who did not know whether we would come through the siege alive or not. We came down free, and will return free after about two weeks. Jared could not leave at the same time, but I rather expect after I return he will come down to conference, which begins the 23d. I was not very well when I left home, but am all right now. I found I was completely tired out, but did not realize it until I quit work. I shall enjoy a few days’ rest. We shall visit old friends here, and do considerable resting. We have not received nearly all our mail as yet, but it keeps coming every day. The railroad is busy bringing up troops, horses, military supplies, foodstuffs, fuel, etc., for Kimberley. You, of course, read all about the war in the papers at home, so I will not say much about it. The place where Cronje surrendered was about twenty miles from Kimberley. That was a big victory, and everybody thinks the war will soon be finished now. We all hope so, for we have had enough. Brother Gaskell’s folks are here in the mission now. Brother Hyatt is still president of the Conference. There is much party feeling in all the churches of our people, as both Dutch and English are well represented. When the matter is finally settled, it will be all right, for they will accept the situation. Many Americans have gone back since the siege set in. Since coming down, I have learned of the death of D. A. Robinson, W. C. Grainger, and Sister Henry. Have not seen many REVIEWS yet. We are getting our oldest mail first at Kimberley. I will write again when I get back home. Perhaps the coming Conference may change our plans. —SARA.