An Itinerating Trip Through Basutoland
By E. C. Silsbee
A SHORT time ago Brother J. R. Campbell and I made a very interesting trip on horseback through the interior of Basutoland. Much might be written descriptive of the country through which we passed, and of our experiences. Perhaps the readers of the REVIEW will be interested in some of these. Along the western border of Basutoland there are a few passable wagon roads, but farther on there are only bridle paths or footpaths, so we make the entire trip in the saddle and on foot. The first two days we follow the wagon road down to Mohale’s Hoek, and from there we strike across the mountains to Chief Kori’s villages. Our object is the location of new mission sites, and to see what can be done toward filling the great need of the hundreds of thousands in Basutoland who have never heard the third angel’s message. From Mohale’s Hoek our course lies eastward, over the mountains. Starting early in the morning, we follow the trail right up over the steep, rugged pass of Rulileathunya, or “shooting wind.” When the wind blows here, the dust particles and sand feel very much as if they had a small charge of gunpowder behind them; hence the name. As we climb up and up, near the summit we are treated to a grand panoramic view of the country behind us, lying thousands of feet below, literally strewn with villages, the people of which are in total ignorance of the gospel as it is in Christ Jesus. Such scenes as this make a man cry out under the burden as he sees a whole valley thickly populated with people who are dying for the very life-giving gospel he has, and he unable to do anything for them, his hands being bound as with iron bands because of the lack of men and means. Uttering the yearning prayer to God to “send forth laborers,” we pass on. It has been an exceptionally wet season, and the mountains and valleys everywhere are in their best summer attire, a beautiful garb of green. Mountain streams are numerous all along the way, and we are crossing them every few yards. Farther over among the high mountains the villages are fewer and smaller, occasionally there being only one hut to a “village.” Sometimes we stop to inquire the way, and at once we are asked, “Who are you?” “Where are you from?” and, “Where are you going?” etc., according to the Basuto custom with all strangers. As we mention the fact that we are, baruti (missionaries) and from the Sabbath church, the people look at us in amazement, and we hear many expressions of surprise. They begin asking us questions, which we are more than glad to answer; but we can tell them only a few words and hasten on, hoping for a future opportunity to bring to them the fullness of the gospel truth. Our path is very rugged and steep; sometimes we climb nearly straight up, sometimes we slide and scramble nearly straight down, and sometimes we creep in and out, around the nearly perpendicular sides of a mountain; but even so we make fairly good time, for we each have a good Basuto pony which is well accustomed to this very sort of work, and these ponies climb with comparative ease up or down or around places which are difficult for us afoot. As we ascend to an altitude of nearly two miles, we find ourselves above many of the smaller mountains. Finally we cross the last of the three ranges which intercept our path, and almost literally drop down into the beautiful Qoaseng Valley, with its many villages and gardens, where Chief Kori is ruler. On descending the mountain, we find ourselves in a steep and narrow cañon, which soon widens into a beautiful, well-populated, and fertile valley,—a splendid place for a mission, but accessible only by a steep path at each end of the valley. Lower down, the valley opens into the Ketane River Valley, and still farther down, the Ketane River flows into the Orange River. The Qoaseng is a delightful little valley, with the greater part of the tillable land well covered with native gardens, and while the villages are strewn along the rougher parts at the base of the mountains. The outlet of this valley is well cut up with the deep, precipitous gorges of the Ketane River, which sweeps in grand curves from side to side of the valley, occasionally coming right up to the base of the mountains, thus excluding any thought of entrance or exit except by a very steep and tortuous footpath, reminding us not a little of the descriptions of the natural fortresses of the Piedmont valleys. As usual, the same old question arises, Can we have a mission in this well-favored place? and if so, where are the men and means? Sometimes we wonder if our good brethren and sisters get so accustomed to hearing these pleas for help that they give them only a passing thought. God forbid that it shall ever be so. We should rather by far keep back our requests, doing the best we can until the Lord moves upon the hearts of some to “come over and help us,” than that the pleas should fall upon dull ears and unresponsive hearts. Coming around down to the southward, where we catch occasional glimpses of the Orange River, we cross a few foothill ridges and come to the edge of another little valley. This valley is formed by the sudden widening out of the Orange River cañon to about five miles; this continues for about ten miles farther down, where the valley closes in again to a cañon wide enough only for the river to pass through, thus forming a basin-like valley, with the Orange River (one of the largest in South Africa) flowing through it. This valley is also well populated, and from here there is a road out to civilization. Three denominations have missions in this basin, from which they project outschools farther up into the more inaccessible parts of the mountains. And there are also four traders’ stores here, all of which seem to be doing a thriving business. We cross the river in a trader’s boat, swimming our horses ahead of us, and then stop at the trader’s store over the Sabbath. We come then to the southernmost district of Basutoland, and Sunday morning we proceed to the chief police camp, where we are suspected as rebel spies and ordered before the magistrate. Boer rebels have been active in the adjoining province (Orange Free State) during the past few months; and the government, having arrested the leaders, is constantly on the alert for spies and more trouble makers. We succeed however, in convincing the magistrate that we are on a mission of peace, and he releases us with a caution.