Chapter 39

The news arrived the following June. The war was over. The last commandos had finally surrendered rather than let their families suffer more. There were no celebrations in Nairobi, only a dull acceptance of the news that peace had come at last to South Africa. Even the most diehard of the farmers who had supported the British Army had changed their minds when they realised the terrible sanctions that Kitchener had imposed on Boer families. Not all the Boers had accepted the peace treaty which required them to take an oath of allegiance to the British Crown. Some had gone into self-imposed exile, moving into the German areas of control, one of which bordered the Imperil East African Company’s land and the other, West Africa.

Six months after the surrender, two horsemen were seen entering the Crater. David watched from the stoop as they made their way up the track to the house. They reined up in front of the house but didn’t dismount. David saw that one was only a boy of fourteen or fifteen, but he carried a Mauser rifle over his shoulder. The man at his side was beaded, wore homespun clothing and a large slouch hat, and was also carrying a rifle over his shoulder.

“Good day,” David said pleasantly.

The older man nodded. “Good day. I’m told you sell horses. Can I buy some?” said with a guttural accent.

“I do,” David replied. “Come inside and we’ll discuss what you want.”

The man looked at David before replying, “You may as well know that we’re Boers that didn’t surrender to you British.”

David smiled. “I guessed as much from your appearance,” he said pleasantly.

“So you still will sell some to us?” he asked dismounting and following David into the house.

“My name is Ramage, David Ramage, and this is my wife Susan,” he said as way of introduction.

“I’m Paul Van Smit, and this is my son Willie,” he said. “I was told you were a Colonel,” Van Smit added.

David smiled, “Colonel retired, from the Khana Rifles of his Majesty Prince Hazid Ibram Khan of Kanda. Not the British Army, Mr Van Smit.”

Van Smit’s expression relaxed a little at this information. “My son and I are trying to start a new home in the German protectorate. I lost my wife and three children in the internment camps. I don’t have much money, but it is gold. My horses are worn out but I have land now. It needs to be tilled and planted.”

Susan cut into the conversation, “Mr Van Smit, would you and Willie care to join us for some lunch?”

Willie’s eyes had been sweeping around the room, unused to seeing furniture of quality. His eyes suddenly swung round to Susan at the mention of food. He lifted his head to look at her, “Madam, my son and I do not seek charity or pity, but thank you for your offer.”

Susan’s eyes flashed, “Sir, I offer neither charity nor pity, only common courtesy, as anyone would to travellers in this land.”

Van Smit recoiled at the ice in Susan’s words. “Forgive me Madam. We, my son and I, have forgotten about kindness. If the offer still stands, we would like to break bread with you.”

It was obvious that the two had not eaten much in the past by the way they sucked the meat from the chicken bones. Willie had three pieces of apple pie before pushing his plate away. “Madam, it is many years since we had a meal like this, cooked by a woman,” Van Smit said quietly.

David and Van Smit went out to the stoop for a smoke after the meal. “Where is your land?” David asked.

“Across the river, I would think over sixty miles from here. You are my nearest neighbour. On that side of the river, the closest is over eighty miles away.”

“So you are a long way out from the nearest town then?” David murmured.

Van Smit smiled, “The further out you are the cheaper the land. The German administration encourages you to develop the land further out. But you have to prove you are working the land in order to get the grant.”

“Do you have a plough and seed?” David asked.

“We have what you see but we will make a home there one way or another,” he replied grimly.