Mission Stations

THE BUILDING OF BOTSHABELO MISSION STATION 1865-1897

DA MERENSKY

Translated by Ute A Seemann and edited by Franco Frescura

EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION

In February 1865, the missionary Alexander Merensky, together with his family and a small group of baPedi converts to Christianity, fled from political upheavals in Sekhukhuneland, and established their homes on the farm Boschhoek, some 13km north of Middelburg. This land had previously been purchased by Merensky from a local farmer, Jan Abraham Joubert, for 500 Prussian Thalers, obviously in expectation of having to make such a move in the foreseeable future. They named the new mission station Botshabelo, a sePedi word meaning “ a place of refuge ”, and although much of their initial efforts were spent in the construction of a substantial stone fort overlooking their settlement in expectation of a retaliatory attack, this never materialised. In his book Merensky (1889) spent a substantial amount of time describing the construction of the Mission, often with obvious patriotic pride. Indeed, at one stage, when writing about the building of a new water mill, he proclaimed that:

“ The mill itself was erected by German bricklayers and, for the building of the mill’s working parts, there came to stay with us a German specialist craftsman who lived at a distance of some eight days’ journey. A skilled German carpenter also built the water wheel. Thus the mill became a monument to German skill and enterprise ”. (Merensky, 1889: 240)

Despite these nationalist sentiments, this is a valuable account of how early missionaries were forced to find a balance between a need to survive economically, their proselytizing mission, and the complex forces of competing tribal and colonial politics. Throughout it all, their architecture shows a pattern of development which took the Merensky family from their first thatched dwelling, probably built in the baPedi manner, through various building experiments, to the more substantial structures that they achieved in later years. Because they were all built by local labour using local materials, they illustrate some of the processes whereby new technologies and building materials were subsequently able to enter local indigenous architecture.

Merensky also gives us an occasional glimpse into the European immigrant and colonial mindset. He is openly scathing about the behaviour of his Dutch neighbours as well as the attitudes of his German colleagues who took little cognizance of their new social context. At one stage he wrote that:

“ The second artisan … a cabinet maker, who understood his craft thoroughly, but could not adapt to a foreign way of doing things, and his wish to do everything as if he were in Germany made him useless in the African situation. He barely spoke Dutch and to learn the Basuto language was beyond him. ” (Merensky, 1889)

On the other hand, his own shortcomings were exposed when:

“ One black artisan brother caused a commotion when he wanted to have a swim at our bathing place which was reserved for “whites only “. (Merensky, 1889: 272)

Merensky does not give us the outcome of this particular incident, but quite clearly it reflects the dilemma facing missionaries who, on the one hand, promoted education as a means of “civilizing” local residents and improving their material lives, but at the same time could, or would, not meet the social and political expectations that, in the process, they had also created.

In the final analysis however, Merensky was a man of his time, and, like most European immigrants to this land, measured his success by the degree to which he had managed to shape the society, indigenous culture and physical environments he encountered to his own concept of “European-ness”. His account of conditions at Botshabelo fifteen years after its establishment reads like a catalogue of social and economic accomplishments which could just as well been set in any village in Europe.

FIRST SETTLEMENT AT BOTSHABELO (Merensky, 1889: 204-5)

On the 8th February 1865, I, together with my wife and child and a small group of local people who had joined us on the way from Lydenberg, arrived at the place which we soon named Botshabelo - a place of refuge. Of these, 85 adults and 30 children had originated from Sekukuni’s land; they joined a similar number of people from the Bakopa tribe who had fled to this place before our arrival and had already erected a couple of huts made out of branches and grass. I was relieved that a hut had also been made ready for me, because I had planned to use the wagon for building purposes, and I would have had to unload my humble belongings and expose them to the heavy rains that poured down. The prospect of finding dry accommodation was most comforting after such a tiring journey; therefore it was all the more disappointing to discover that our little reed hut, built by a young farmer, had collapsed under the fearsome downpour. The poles upon which the roof had rested were too flimsy and the clay infill too heavy. Consequently the roof had collapsed and lay inside on the floor, while water poured in in great torrents from above. As a result, with the help of some people who fetched the materials for me, I had to erect a round reed hut which, although not really finished, we were able to move into on the evening of the second day. Later on, after we had fitted it with a small glass window, it became rather homely. The little house measured only about six feet in diameter, but we had so few household possessions that we did not have to worry where to store the stuff, and it shared our space and shelter. We lived in the reed hut for nine months, happy and content, and even had travellers and neighbours in as guests. Admittedly, the green reeds which had been used for the construction proved unsatisfactory, because the roof soon became infested with green, caterpillar-like worms, which threw much filth and dust onto our beds, floors and tables, that my wife had to sweep the house repeatedly. It was also inconvenient not to have a proper door with which to close the entrance, because in the evening swarms of mosquitoes from the low-lying areas, descended upon us and forced us, in our own defence, to light a fire in the hut. Its smoke drove these intruders away but, more often than not, forced us out as well. After a while we were able to install a plank door which safeguarded us from these enemies. The thought that it secured our little house also served to ease the mind of my dear wife when, as it sometimes, but not infrequently, happened in the night a panther would let out a roar from a nearby thicket.

Soon the Bokopa also built many reed and grass huts, and thus we were all quickly sheltered safely and could put all our thoughts to the future.

FIRST BUILDINGS ON THE STATION (Merensky, 1889: 214)

The walls and roof of the mission house were made of reed, the church was built of stone with a reed roof. About 100 feet higher up the slope, above the house and church, we erected a fort and called it Fort Wilhelm (1). Its walls were of stone and their cavity was filled with dagga (2). The fort had walls twelve feet high and resembled a peasant’s fortification, not unlike some medieval city walls in southern Germany. These were four to five feet wide at the base; the upper part was narrower and had embrasures. The Post was finally finished with a central tower.

Later on the residents of two nearby settlements built similar structures in the centre of their villages.

PLANNING THE MISSION SETTLEMENT (Merensky, 1889: 224-30)

Another plague which blighted us was the presence of a large troop of baboons in the area who, as its original inhabitants, obviously could not reconcile themselves to the fact that we had now taken it over. They showed no inclination to emigrate, hoping that, at some future date, they would be able to plunder our mealie gardens. They visited when it seemed that something could be got, preferably on a Sunday. The “old men” led, the “women” followed with their little ones. As soon as the mealies ripened, our people had to think of taking serious measures, and the only alternative appeared to be the total decimation of the troop. After this decision was taken, the Basuto devised a clever and energetic solution. In the evening, their scouts discovered the baboons’ overnight resting place; there they were surrounded before dawn and some were killed while the rest managed to flee. After a couple of years only a few of the animals were left and, later on, they disappeared altogether. Snakes, scorpions and centipedes were also found in our area, but fortunately not in such number and size as to make them as dangerous as those of the warmer lands where we had come from. We could therefore begin our work to plough the land and start our sowing and building in greater safety and with more equanimity.

Had peaceful conditions prevailed, it would have been natural for the natives to lay out their village in a form different from that of their forefathers. Then we would at least have been able to use roads as a means of partitioning the homesteads of the different family units. Although our residents at first owned no wagons, it was to be expected that, at some future time, many of them would do so and that whites would not be the only ones to lead their transport to our place. As an emergency measure at the beginning, one then could also have allocated each family a large space, such that later on, the building of bigger houses, next to and in between the huts would have been feasible. Nonetheless room for expansion was still there, although the area where people built initially, in order to be nearer to the church and my own house, was rather confined, being located between rocky, stony ground and a water-logged, swampy and low-lying area. Alas, being surrounded by enemies, we had to sacrifice all plans for spacious roads and a beautiful settlement layout because of our security. This restriction, which had determined the native’s form of village planning since olden times, had to do for us as well, and forced us to erect the houses of those living in the plain as closely together as possible, while others, the people of Masserumule, Machale and Makoetle, built their huts partly in a thicket below the fort, along the mountain side. Nothing would have pleased our enemies more than to find the inhabitants of Botshabelo living in straw huts all dispersed within a quarter or half an hour’s walking distance, such that, in an attack, they could be picked off easily, one by one, in their houses.

Now, however, they built along the mountain side, and their homesteads surrounded open spaces within which their cattle were safe at night from wild animals and their enemies. Houses were strung together by means of courtyard walls, as is the manner with all Basuto cities; therefore clans were able to remain together, according to their custom. This had the advantage of allowing that the head of the clan to supervise his kinsmen, the dissolution of the old patriarchal custom never having been to the advantage of the Africans. It was only later, once we had grown strong, and no longer feared an attack, that we could allow ourselves to break up the closed circle of homesteads by means of streets, and that we could permit individuals to build in streets further afield.

The huts which our people built from brushwood, twigs and grass were simple and poor to say the least, but, as soon as the initial famine was over, some families started to build better houses according to their custom. Since this required a large quantity of poles, this led to the destruction of many young trees in the sparsely wooded area about us. Regrettably therefore we had to forbid this practice and introduce a different building style. The erection of round huts whose walls were built with rocks and which carried a conical roof constructed in a simpler if less pleasing way than the load-bearing roof structure of a Basuto hut was generally encouraged. The roof was thatched, as in former times, with grass. This is the best and most practical roof in Africa where the climate is subject to rapid temperature changes, from the cold of night to the heat of day. It is only to be regretted that it burns easily, that it may eaten by ants (3) and acts as a host for vermin. Doors of houses became higher and higher and, here and there, a little window was added. The old huts alongside them were retained for some time afterwards as outbuildings. The area immediately about the houses and huts was levelled by the busy hands of the women who built lapas, or inner courtyards, according to their abilities. Unfortunately the ground and the lands near the village were sandy; therefore clay-like soil had to be carried from some distance away although even this was not of such quality as the dear good black housewives may have wished it to be. Fortunately there was no scarcity of reeds and soon many courtyards acquired the neatness and tidiness so dear to the native and pleasing to the European.

If mimosa bushes could have been found nearby, as was the case in our people’s homeland, then we would surely have planted an “African town wall” about the village, a hedge of thornbush which provides considerable security from potential attacks at night. Alas, these bushes were absent from our area. Once, when a Matebele attack appeared to be imminent, our people did plan the erection of a real town wall, but as other large buildings occupied us at the time, it was resolved instead to make a start on the large church building which had now become necessary. From the outside therefore the village appeared to be rather vulnerable, but as each homestead lay end-to-end behind other homesteads, only the outer ones were directly in the line of attack. The inner stone fortifications which were small but solid, could have received the population quickly and safeguarded them effectively; the only entrance leading into each of the two villages, was flanked by walling; and their gate was easily defended. This was closed at night by a wooden door.

The villages on the plain were positioned, as mentioned before, between a rocky outcrop and a swampy area; the latter’s spread was so wide that the Bapedi constructed a dam over which one could enter their village without wetting one’s feet. Both rivers were flanked by swamps which reached right up to the higher ground. In order to drain these the river-bed was lowered by between four and six feet. This work took several years but, in the end, the swampy areas disappeared. However, now that the waters had been lowered, bridges had to be built at the wagon crossings. Although I was good at bricklaying, I knew little of stonemasonry, and my people were in a similar position. Besides, dressed stone was too heavy for me to handle. At this point it was discovered that the missionary colonist Kupfernagel, who was in the service of the mission and who was then staying at Botshabelo, had a special love and aptitude for such work. He built the first bridge with the help of able strong men. This is, as far as I know, the first stone bridge in the Transvaal, a sort of cyclopic structure, made from large stone blocks, laid in corbelled courses which came together by and by, and were dressed on top with the longest blocks we could find. The arch was so high that we could pass underneath it. Following this formula the people later built a second bridge themselves, similar in size, as well as a few smaller ones.

At the same time roads, or streets, leading to the bridges were built. We had to take care to go around the few pieces of arable land available to us near the houses as these could not be given over to roads. For this reason these were constructed as close as possible to the foot of the hillside. This meant therefore that we had the additional task of clearing the terrain of rocks and stones. This was easy enough, as far as it could be done by hand, or with a koevoet (4). A span of eight to ten oxen was used to drag the larger blocks to a place where they could be used. However there was no shortage of such rock on the steeper slopes, which defied all efforts to move them. Here we used a simple method widely known in Africa: we dug around and under the boulder until it could be safely tipped over and lowered. Later on we also used gunpowder to remove rocks from the street leading up to the church.

The people started to clear their land almost immediately. It was not my plan to sell it to them or to encourage its ownership. Because they were only given usufruct of it, I did not waste much time and energy in the distribution thereof. The Bakopa were the first to be pacified and persuaded to live in this place, and were allocated land down-stream which they regarded as the best of the lot and praised it. The Bapedi received land to the east near the Keroom River. I left it to their chiefs and their assemblies to distribute land to individuals and to satisfy the expectations of their subjects because, as I told myself, if people managed as heathens to cut up the land peacefully according to the needs of families, they would do it even better as Christians, and held it to be of greater use, under the circumstances, for me to abide by their old customs. It also needs to be mentioned that the distribution of land is too tiresome and drawn out a task to be shouldered by the missionary, only to have to bear the moaning and accusations of dissatisfied people afterwards. The retention of this custom proved advantageous for later still, when new people arrived at Botshabelo, who were also in need of arable land, there was always a small piece to be had and arguments about land never developed even during the last years. Only a few pieces of arable land and garden plots were reserved for the missionary and mission colonists near to their homes. These were large enough to accommodate orchards and vegetable gardens, and each household could plant enough corn for its own consumption, although most of us had to supplement this by purchasing bread corn and some mealies yearly.

At that time people had no ploughs and used hoes as had been their custom since olden times. Although these are very useful to the Basuto, they do not achieve much in preparing new ground and so the work of planting and enlarging fields takes place slowly, in spite of the industry expended on it. On the plains the grassland was as plentiful and light as on a German meadow, such that a hoe could only turn it with difficulty. The plough is a much better tool than the hoe when it comes to breaking up fallow land, but it is still to be wished that the latter will never be made redundant in Africa. Where land is hoed, all small useful pieces of it can be cultivated, between rocks and river meanders, and land with lots of stones and rocks; the hoe is also a cheap and simple tool which Africans can manufacture themselves.

From the outset we also planted a great number of fruit trees. These are to be found in large quantities on both the nearer and more distant farms. Farmers grew thousands of young trees in their orchards, mainly in spots where pips had fallen to the ground from processed peaches and apricots. They were grateful when these seedlings were removed by our people who brought them back here after their spells as farm workers. In Africa one does not have to graft these wild little trees; we could plant thousands of them, even though many died under swampy conditions owing to an excess of ground moisture. A forest of peach trees did especially well on the mountain side below Fort Wilhelm. We whites, too, did not hesitate to plant orchards and hedges. In front of my house was a rocky patch. After long, hard work, trees were planted and the outcome was a beautiful garden, which included quince, pomegranates and figs, and gave us immense pleasure.

FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS (Merensky, 1889: 232-245)

For the first nine months we lived in our little reed house; during that time a small building was completed whose layout was such that it could be used later as the kitchen wing of our new house. Mr Kupfernagel had built its low walls solidly with rocks and upon these was set the thatched roof. Lofts are not usual in Africa but one enjoys the circulation of air provided by this enlarged space inside the house. The building consisted of two little rooms and next door I established my study under a thatched roof canopy, so that, for now, our immediate needs were satisfied. Because we owned no furniture, apart from a chest of drawers, two tables and a couple of chairs, the house was not at all cramped by household possessions. Eventually, a small kitchen was built in front of this house for my wife. She had now been in Africa for two years and had performed her household duties daily in all sorts of weather conditions: in wind, rain and out in the open, under a burning sun. Soon after I began the construction of a larger house. As we were fortunate to find the necessary clay close nearby, it was determined that it be built with fired bricks. These were made rapidly and once the fires in the field kilns were lit, these produced hard bricks of excellent quality. The missionaries helped unstintingly with the brick laying, so that the walls were ready within three weeks. Because I also wanted to make this house into a fortification, I roofed it with a flat limestone-plastered roof, such as we see in some southern countries, and often in the low rainfall areas of South Africa (5). Whenever the news of an imminent attack reached us, I had all too often looked at the inflammable roof above me, dreading the worst for my wife and child. The limestone took a three-day journey to cart here and then it was only fired with difficulty. The roof was erected as well as was possible, with the help of a neighbour who had had some experience in this.

This roof remained a source of worry for many years because it kept leaking, and, as a result of the wet lime over our heads, the family developed a number of allergies and illnesses. In 1875 therefore it was replaced with sheets of corrugated iron. Our artisan brothers provided the house with simple, yet effective doors and windows. After we had erected an enclosed verandah, made from corrugated iron, on the side of the house facing the yard, in order to contain our storage kists and provisions, it became a virtual “palace” for my family and I, for which we thanked God heartily. The house consisted of a small corridor with two rooms on either side. Two small cubicles under the verandah were set aside as guest rooms for travellers and for missionaries staying with us for a time. As was to be expected, the temperature under these corrugated iron roofs soared from midday through to the afternoon, and could be compared to the heat generated beneath the famous lead roofs of Venice. The floors in all rooms were formed in clay, smeared weekly and polished with cow dung, but by then we had already become used to this typically South African practice.

BUILDING A NEW CHURCH

The congregation’s need for a church was also soon to be realised. The first to be erected was a combined church and school building, with low stone walls and a large thatched roof. As small and as insignificant as this might have been, our people took great pride and joy in its construction and inauguration. It was the first little church they saw being erected, in this place of refuge undisturbed by heathens and chiefs.

During the first difficult months of famine, when most of them had just enough to eat once a day, I had voiced my concern to Stephanus Maroti that some people’s thoughts might be returning to the “fleshpots of Egypt” and to the heathen land with its plenty. He pointed to the half finished walls of the little church and said: “No, you can be sure that nobody does so, the people look forward to the spiritual rewards which will be theirs through education and church service”. It was to be so, and our settlement drew even more people, such that after a year we had to enlarge the building. We lengthened it and widened the apse. Later on the building served as a school and subsequently as a store room for, after another year had gone by, we had to build a second and larger church. In March 1866 we acquired a church bell. (6)

Herr Direktor Wangemann, who was travelling through the Transvaal at that time, witnessed the village assembly when this church building project was decided upon. He also had the opportunity to enjoy the enthusiasm with which all the men of our village began its construction. The foundations and walls were built from rocks which had to be broken from rocky outcrops by means of a koevoet. The thousands of pieces necessary for building were all carried by our people on their shoulders, as were the many others used as infill for the foundations, which were six feet broad at their base. The laying of bricks was done mainly by an old Norwegian bricklayer who turned up at our place one day. We missionaries also helped with the brickwork of the Gothic arch over the apse and with the apse itself. The self-supporting roof structure was painted in a reddish brown colour, which we extracted from iron-bearing ore, giving the 70 feet long church a dignified look from the interior. When it was nearly finished, we were visited by missionary Prozesky, who decorated the back wall, the pulpit and the apse by painting them, and covered the window openings of the apse with oiled and painted linen such that they looked like stained glass windows. The church also has a gallery. Its dedication took place on 15th March 1868 amid great rejoicing. At long last the beautiful altar cloths and the lovely holy containers given to us years ago by the Sisterhood of the Diaconic House Bethanien in Berlin could be put to use. The inaugural service was heartening and uplifting, several missionaries, who had come for the occasion, thanked and praised the Lord with us. Since the little church would only contain 600 people, even, as it happened, when they sat closely packed together on the beautiful clay floor, it was already too small for our population which consisted at that time of 800 souls. Soon the men began to bring small homemade stools to church, while for years to come the women were to sit on the clay floor. Regrettably I could not find enough seats in the church for the neighbouring families who also attended the ceremony. They did not take it amiss as they said, quite rightly, that the people who did the work had to be allocated seats first. This did not stop them from admiring, through windows and doors, the altar adorned with a crucifix, and the service itself, leading an old Scottish school teacher to spread the rumor that we were now Roman Catholics. Within a few years the need for a larger school building began to be felt as the old church, which had been converted to a school, no longer served the needs of our community, with 300 children attending its classes daily. Therefore in 1871 a larger school building was erected which ultimately housed 400 children daily. It was built in front of the fort, on the lower part of the hill, which was wild and rocky. As it so happened, it was located in the centre of the inhabited area of the village, and the rocky terrain presented little deterrent. The men cast and fired 40,000 bricks, and the children carried them, happily singing, to the building site. When they grew tired their mothers came and helped with their carrying baskets. The high foundations, for which an immense amount of stone was needed as infill was laid by the natives, since they had become quite proficient in this type of rough brick walling; the walls themselves were built by a German bricklayer, the roof was thatched quite professionally with grass straw by Basuto and we had the satisfaction of providing enough space for the instruction of youths as well as the catechumens. This school was, and perhaps still is, not only the largest but the most beautiful school in the Transvaal.

Other projects and buildings also occupied our time in these early years. Our “artisan brothers “, or mission colonists, had had to flee with us from Sekukuni’s land. If they were to remain anywhere in the Transvaal then they could be employed most successfully here in our village. No-one, least of all they or the missionaries, thought that they could return to areas where sovereign chiefs reigned, where a feeling of insecurity curtailed the erection of mission stations to the simplest and most fundamental of needs, and where travel was both difficult and costly. Botshabelo developed more and more into a station of some significance, from where expeditions could be mounted, and which provided a safe retreat from the enemy should it ever be needed. The land here belonged to the mission and one could take the responsibility of building good, permanent houses over and above our current needs, because one could be sure that, in due course, and with the developments currently taking place, they would be ultimately occupied. The growing needs of local inhabitants led to the creation of jobs for artisans. Here also it could be safely assumed that the natives would be willing to learn European trades; therefore it was right that the three mission artisans should try to create a place of work. One of them, Kupfernagel, was a bricklayer who, as I mentioned before, built the bridge. People working with him learned many skills, for he himself was a capable and industrious worker. Because he was married, the task of decorating his own house, planting his own garden and other household activities received priority. However, he did not know the native language nor did he ever acquire it. He did not remain with us for very long and was soon transferred to the Cape Colony. The second artisan was a cabinet maker, who understood his craft thoroughly, but could not adapt to a foreign way of doing things, and his wish to do everything as if he were in Germany made him useless in the African situation. He barely spoke Dutch and to learn the Basuto language was beyond him. He seldom managed to produce more than a few windows and doors for the other missionaries’ houses or for other station buildings. His time was fully occupied in building his own house and workshop and, because he was so thorough in his bricklaying, he needed much time for this work. After a while, the cost of retaining him became so high that his input in no way matched the results of his work (7). Also, when he undertook work for the Boers, his estimates were so low that they did not match the expense of his keep. The natives could not learn anything from him because he not only lacked the language to speak to them but, more importantly, he also did not have the skill to explain things. These points were discussed during Dr Wangemann’s visit and this good man parted from us in peace and settled nearby in the newly-founded village of Middelburg. Because he was not married and led a frugal life, he was able to just eke a living.

ESTABLISHMENT OF A WAGON-MAKING WORKSHOP

The third of our artisans, Lademann, was a wagon-maker from Berlin who, before his departure, also learned as much as possible about the work of a smith. He was intelligent, practical, industrious and fitted in well with us at a time when his skills were just becoming necessary. Houses, good or bad, we could erect ourselves, but we could not manufacture wagons, and in the founding of a station one could make do without houses, but not without wagons. Each missionary had to have one in order to start a station. At that time, wagons were difficult to bring in to the Transvaal; here and there some Boers made their own, often of good quality, but alas, it was quite tedious and cumbersome to have to rely only upon them. These people did not make wagons for a living; one had to supply the wood and iron; often the smith also demanded the supply of coals, and only then was he willing to begin the work. The fitting of the canopy and the painting of the wagon had to be done by the buyer himself. There were some larger wagon-making workshops in Natal, but their wagons were not a good bargain. They were made from poorly cured timber, which dried out in the arid winters here, and tended to come apart. Their servicing and repainting was also difficult, and although they are invaluable in South Africa and are expected to give service for as long as possible, these wagons did not last long. For all of these reasons the establishment of a wagon-maker’s shop in Botshabelo became necessary and consequently proved to be very successful. In ten years we founded ten new mission stations; all of these, and later ones also, were supplied by us with well-crafted wagons, and because they often passed through via or returned to Botshabelo, they could be repaired without problems. From time to time the Boers also used the services of our workshop, as well as the natives who brought their wagons and ploughs to be repaired. For a long time this business expanded, year after year. It was important to the administration of Botshabelo that the workshops be at hand for any necessary smithy and forge work, as well as many kinds of woodwork. Income from these enterprises could never go directly into the station nor into the mission coffers, because the wagons supplied to other missionaries were not paid for in cash; all transactions were entered into the books nonetheless. The mission never had to subsidise the workshops. On the contrary, it made good use of them and they, in their turn, saved the mission a lot of money.

At the same time the workshops served as a trade school for our natives who had worked there as trainees since its beginnings. Because its head, Lademann, was industrious and punctual, and because we always had German artisans working there, we expected the same standards of our black trainees concerning their performance at work and made the same demands of them as we would have done in Europe, which was perhaps a little bit too much for Africa and Africans. Early in the morning, at 6am in summer and 7am in winter, the workshop bell rang, and with the usual breaks, work continued smartly and strictly until 7pm. One of our Basotho finished both the smithy and the wagon-making training courses while others dropped out half way through, finding they had learned enough to repair wagons and do some carpentry. Since real trade schools (such as Lovedale) needed large subsidies, the work we did here in training the native to a trade is quite commendable.

Once the-wagon’s maker shop had come into full operation, it presented a fine sight. The building housing the workshops was 70 feet long. One entered the smithy first, where people worked on two fires fueled by coal, mined on the highveld at a distance of two days’ travel from us. The vices and drill were fastened to a work bench. In the next workroom, set aside for woodwork, stood four carpenter’s benches, where timber was filed, screwed and drilled under the watchful eyes of the foreman who always worked alongside the trainees. Behind this building stood a shed where a large amount of wood, supplied by the farmers, was stored to cure. Such wood, usable for wagon-making, may still be found in our mountain kloofs. Amongst our supplies of metal were also heavy iron axles which slowly began to replace those of black iron wood preferred earlier (8). After we tried using a lime-covered roof over this building in order to make it fireproof, we eventually had to replace it with costly corrugated iron sheeting. Next door stood the stately, vine-covered house of the foreman, with its outlying buildings and a set of small residences for his apprentices. The whole complex was situated upon a loamy hillside dominated by a huge mimosa bush. This area was soon terraced and covered over with fruit trees. In the front garden of the houses, plants, hedges and trees proliferated, bearing the rich harvest of this fruitful soil.

The wagon-maker’s shop continued to operate successfully for fifteen years: then a changing set of circumstances led to it being closure. By then very good wagons could be bought cheaply in both Natal and the Transvaal, the era of expansion for Mission Stations was over and many new wagons were not needed any more. Artisans, capable of maintaining them had settled in various parts of the country, and the northern stations now began using the easier western route which passed through Pretoria into Natal, thus making it difficult for them to send their wagons to Botshabelo. The continued existence of the workshop therefore became uneconomical. Lademann, who was now older and in poor health, settled on a plot of his own in Pretoria, and the buildings he erected were given over to other uses.

BUILDING A MILL

At this stage the construction of a mill became a priority for our small colony. Even if the Basuto still preferred to use their old iron hand-mills, inherited from their parents, the white population found these difficult and costly to use. The Boers around us had all erected on their properties small water mills, referred to as “Norman” in South Africa, which did not produce more flour, but were cheaper to run. Only one farmer had a better type of water mill, called an overshot waterwheel mill (9). We therefore did not find it convenient to mill our bread flour nearby and hoped that, if we erected a more efficient mill, one which warranted the employment of a miller, the Boers would make good use of it. Water to drive the mill was available most of the year in sufficient quantities from the Mochlotsi River, which never dried out completely, even during droughts. All that was needed for us was to find the right spot along the rocky bank of the river and erect a weir and a mill water channel. After much deliberation the right spot was decided upon on a newly surveyed plot. I had to be the project engineer, owing to the fact that I was the only one to have had any experience in building small water channels, and could thus attempt a large one. The labourers had to be paid, of course, but they worked for such low wages at that time that the completion of the project was economically feasible.

It was fortunate that during construction of the fort, bridges and roads, our labourers gained extensive experience in rock quarrying, and in the use of the koevoet and pulleys, for this time we had to overcome enormous difficulties. Rock layer after rock layer had to be removed carefully and, on one stretch, a fifty foot long bank of fragmented rock a couple of feet thick was tackled with the help of pickaxes hardened in our smithy especially for this task. The work to excavate a channel 1360 paces long took six months and involved, on a daily average, twenty people working without the supervision of a white overseer, with the exception of myself. The channel was only a few feet deep at its highest point, but increased to twelve feet at its lowest level, and was four to five feet wide. Five hundred feet of its length led through rocks and rocky outcrops, and involved the removal of over 200 cubic metres of earth and rocks.

The mill itself was erected by German bricklayers and, for the building of the mill’s working parts, there came to stay with us a German specialist craftsman who lived at a distance of some eight days’ journey. A skilled German carpenter also built the water wheel. Thus the mill became a monument to German skill and enterprise. At the time when I employed an energetic German miller the mill produced 40 sacks of wheat every 24 hours. He also added to the apparatus two wire sieves to remove husks from the maize flour. The Boers took away the wheat flour with the bran still in it and marketed it as such, the bran being removed by the end user.

The building of the mill and its subsequent upkeep gave rise to great worries and took up a lot of my energy. From the onset, when I employed a miller with little technical competence, I was often called out for emergencies, such as the millworks not functioning properly, or a leaking weir, and it was I who had to sort it all out. In spite of this the mill provided a welcome addition to the practical workings of the Mission Station without which it could not have developed as fully as it did. Besides all else it also earned its keep and, in later years, made an excellent profit for our coffers. I was often reminded of the fact that the missionaries of old, who opened up Germany to the Christian faith and culture, had to build a decent mill from the onset, at the same time that they erected their cloisters and Mission Stations.

ESTABLISHMENT OF A TRADING STORE

The completion of the wagon-maker’s shop and the running of the mill meant that the administration of Botshabelo became increasingly concerned with the provision of food, so much so that we were forced to take the matter one step further and also erect a store. Owing to the underdeveloped state of the country, very little cash was in circulation amongst either blacks or whites. The natives did not want to work for money, but preferred to be paid in kind, with a blanket or a hoe, because they either had to travel far to purchase these commodities, or else had to await the arrival of a traveling salesman, who charged them dearly for these goods. For this reason we kept in stock a year’s supply of goods for our labourers as this was of great value to them. The same thing could be said for the Boers. They tried to barter wood, which they had collected for their own wagon-making, in exchange for such items as linen, cotton cloth and English leather for their families, to save themselves a journey to the next trade post, all the while drinking their beloved coffee with us. When a Boer had some things repaired in our workshops, he did not pay in cash, but brought wood, tobacco, grain and skins to barter with and, as a result we had to get rid of these goods in our own turn. Initially all such transactions were conducted by Mr Lademann, but this activity soon grew out of all proportion and he found he could not deal with both the shop and with wagon-making. The Basotho also rapidly developed a taste for many articles which could only be purchased, and it became imperative that they kept their custom to our station, where they could be prevented from falling into debt. Therefore we were really fortunate to find a fine German trader, who had originally worked as a trained bricklayer, and who now volunteered to open a shop in Botshabelo after he had already been living on Mission Stations for many years. Our only condition was that half of the shop’s profits be paid over to the station. The mission therefore did not have to invest any capital into this venture, was not connected to it in any way, but nonetheless, over a number of years still made, a substantial profit out of it, while the trader, Mr Kamann, in addition to running the shop, was also willing to help out with the task of bookkeeping for the wagon-maker’s shop, the mill and the tithe. Finally he took this work over in its entirety.

These economic activities would not have been so profitable had the Transvaal not been in a somewhat precarious position during this time. The larger wild animals had disappeared through indiscriminate shooting and butchering, constant frontier wars prevented the inhabitants from establishing proper agricultural practices, and Europeans were reluctant to invest capital and labour in this unstable situation; there was also no market for the sale of agricultural produce in this country and the Transvaal Boers had to transport their grain and flour, over bad roads and long distances, to the Free State or Natal (this was before the establishment of the diamond fields at the beginning of the 1870’s). To top this all off in 1863 the Government introduced paper money to pay civil servants. Pretoria printed this upon plain blue English writing paper, President Pretorius signed it, and suddenly, here was a one pound or five pound sterling note! Unfortunately the country had no credit and within a brief period of time the five pound sterling note was worth only half of its face value, and finally it stabilised at about two shilling and six pence … It was difficult to do business under these conditions. The mission paid its employees and Mr Lademann, and from 1867 onwards all our various businesses had to make a profit …

In later years I personally had to stand security for the building of the mill, the schoolhouse and the large church …

CONSTRUCTION OF A THIRD CHURCH (Merensky, 1889: 302-5)

In spite of the upheaval which followed the departure of Johannes Dinkoanyane from our otherwise-quiet Botshabelo, work on the new big church continued successfully. Our second place of worship had become too small for the number of our inhabitants and members of the church (a census held on 1st January 1873 had counted 1315 inhabitants, of whom 1034 had been baptised). It was heartening to see every Sunday numerous people sitting in front of the church doors, singing along and trying to listen to the sermon. The congregation therefore decided upon the erection of a new building, even if this involved undertaking a considerable financial burden.

In spite of the fact that both gable ends of the old church were retained to carry the cross beams for the new church, the structure was virtually all new. Fortunately the terrain made it expedient to build the new church across the old one. As we already had plans for some simple church buildings from Germany, we were able to take form and style into immediate consideration and happily started the work.

The ground was rocky and full of loose stones which had to be removed until the natural bed rock was exposed in order to provide a solid base for the foundations. Thereafter the stone was squared and dressed, and transported upon a newly laid track by means of rolling wagons made in our workshop. The men were kept busy making bricks and worked for weeks, building clamp after clamp, until they had made 200,000 fired bricks. Obtaining wood for the kilns was not a minor matter: trees had to be felled in the mountains, cut down to size and transported a long way. Beams and trusses for the roof structure were ordered from the Pongola forest where former Hermannsburg missionary colonists lived, a journey of eight days away from us. Building operations continued throughout the summer, at the end of which time we laid the foundation stone filled with the usual documents. Two skilled European bricklayers were contracted for the project and, as they worked alongside, and oversaw the native bricklayers, the work progressed well. When the walls were finished, the roof structure, which had been built separately by our black carpenters, was also ready. This was hoisted into position by the missionaries and the white population because this work was very dangerous. Long pieces of wood are scarce in South Africa, so there could be no scaffolding, which made working above a certain height rather difficult. This also affected the erection of the tower, which was to adorn the church and carry the bell. Nonetheless everything was completed and the tower roof was beautifully covered with zinc by a neighbouring missionary, who was also a master craftsman skilled in wrought iron and iron work. The roof of the church was thatched over. In Africa one has only two choices when it comes to roofing material: thatch or corrugated iron. Corrugated iron roofs are not advisable as they permit an accumulation of great heat. Another factor against them is the noise created by rain falling during thunderstorms (which rage often in the summer) when hardly anybody can hear the sermon. Wood is so expensive that it is only on rare occasions that one can build in wooden paneling underneath the roof structure; and so we left the high roof open to view, which had the advantage of creating more space, a vital factor considering the large number of people which filled the church. At just the right time a consignment of stained glass arrived from Germany and a dear brother from the northern Transvaal proceeded to build in the lead stained-glass windows: the top of the pointed gothic windows, the windows behind the altar, and the two round windows in the gable end of the transept were thus adorned. It took nearly nine months to finish the building, but because the whole population took part in its construction, the work was completed relatively quickly. Often, at any one given time, up to 100 men were engaged in the work for many consecutive days, but the women and children did not stand by idly. Their task was to carry the 200,000 fired bricks, as well as the clay and water, to the building site. Once it was finished the church made a fine sight. Upon entering through the main door beneath the church tower, one is presented with a light, airy and spacious interior, the length of which, measured from the outside of the 66 feet high tower to the back of the altar, is 120 feet; the altar niche is separated from the choir stall by a twenty foot high vaulted gothic arch which is painted blue. The woodwork was stained brown and the walls were whitewashed. The pulpit showed what can be done with very little outlay. It was made with good airbricks, laid by an English bricklayer according to our plans, beautifully plastered and painted with silver-gray oil-paint. It served us as well as any, and looked much more dignified than the African wood pulpits which cost so dearly nowadays.

The day of the inauguration, 26 October 1873, was a day of great rejoicing for all of us, and was only marred by the recent departure of so many of our members …

First we assembled in the school building, where services had been held during the period of construction, then we formed ourselves in a procession led by us missionaries carrying the sacred church vessels and the bible, followed by the congregation and the catechumens with the children bringing up the rear. Singing we entered the beautiful church building and after the service, when the doors were opened to all, including those who were not baptized, the church was filled to such an extent that our worries that the building might have been too large proved unfounded. Within three weeks of this solemn celebration a coffin, in which our second daughter Magdalene rested, was laid before the altar. After a short violent illness this lovely, pious child had died, and we carried the body, accompanied by the whole population, to the cemetery where she was laid to rest next to her little brother.

FIFTEEN YEARS LATER: BOTSHABELO IN 1882 (Merensky, 1889: 347-62)

In surveying the first fifteen years of Botshabelo’s development we could thank God heartily that here the Basutos have found something they needed: a place of safety, where they could live in peace amongst believers. All the work that we, and they, had done had been to the glory of God. The heathens who had foiled and fought us were gone, yet we lived on in security and the station was like a hill town, safe and well-protected. At the beginning of 1880 its population had reached 1480 souls, of which 1213 had been baptized. When I left the place early in 1882, the number had risen to 1700 souls, 1475 of whom were baptized.

As one approached the village boundaries from the direction of Middelburg, it rapidly became evident that the population had learnt to work industriously, and that the village formed a focus of culture in this part of the country. Paths had been widened to become roads, often traversed by 20 to 40 ox-wagons per day. The mill, the shop and its trade with local inhabitants, the search for medical and surgical care found Boers and Englishmen, farmers and travellers, descending upon us from far and wide, on wagon, cart and horse. The Keroom River, difficult to cross in earlier times, had been spanned by a passable slipway, a construction which took hundreds of our men many days to complete. Gardens had been established along the river and every piece of available land had been put to use, swamps had been drained and maize planted in their place flourished. Closer to the village, fields were surrounded by low stone walls which so impressed Sir Theophilus Shepstone that he was led to exclaim: “This looks just like Europe!” The village was located amongst orchards, and the hillside below the fort in particular was covered with peach trees, which grew extremely well here and in August presented a beautiful sight of pink blossoms. Further out, towards Middelburg, the shop buildings could be found. The main shop was 80 feet long and as handsome, inside and out, as one could find in these parts of the country. A fine row of eucalyptus trees led to the house of the second missionary, whilst syringa trees were planted on all other streets, the stony, rocky soil making the growth of every single plant quite difficult. The path leading up to the church was bordered by rose hedges, which also struggled to grow for similar reasons. Weeping willows, so often found in South Africa, had been planted on the banks of both rivers; these provided abundant greenery which was both pleasant to the eye and provided a steady source of firewood, a welcome bonus in this part of the country which is scarcely wooded …

All of our buildings, the school, the workshop, the wagon-maker’s shop and the houses of the missionaries, were built either in fired bricks or in dressed stone. The best houses in the village were my own, and that belonging to the foreman of the wagon-maker’s shop. The latter had been expanded during my recent leave home. Its front wall had been converted into a centre wall, three rooms had been added to its front and two windows broken through at its rear. The old walls were then raised and the whole structure covered with a corrugated iron roof. A thin ceiling, made from American planks (10) kept the heat at bay. Since, at that time, a yellow wood plank twenty foot long cost twenty Marks, the use of this cheaper timber, planed and rebated in America, proved to be most economical. Unfortunately, with the exception of retaining heat, such a loft is of little use, and one cannot walk about upon it, except on the beams, or use it as a storage space. House floors were still made of clay, smeared with cowdung and varnished. It was only the main living room that had a cement floor, but this did not wear well since we had laid it using a cheaper type of cement. The house consisted of seven rooms with two smaller rooms being located underneath the verandah roof. I personally participated in the building of the walls and did so happily in the belief that older missionaries, even the superintendent, should show their younger brothers that they do not look down upon such work, especially if it helps to reduce costs. The front garden did not lack in flower beds to beautify the place and oleander and other shrubs flowered profusely. My study faced the street and was situated at street level (11).

The smithy and wagon-maker’s workshop are under German supervision but they could not have reached their targets without the excellent work done by the natives. I saw a pretty and solidly built wagon made entirely by our natives, also guns whose barrel was the only part made by whites. I saw houses, not round but square, built entirely of brick, laid and roofed by blacks, with all the woodwork being done and delivered by them (12).

According to European custom, the decoration of our house was plain, inside it was sparsely furnished and satisfied our few needs. Right up to our last days there we never found a need for cupboards to store our clothing and household linen. The housewife used kists, which included drawers (commodes) to keep her linen. Our chairs, made from bent wood, resembled those well-known in Viennese coffee houses, as these could be imported more cheaply into South Africa than the simplest chairs made by either the Boers or local artisans. We had two sofas, thanks to the skill shown by a missionary who once stayed with us. Our beautiful piano was the gift of a dear English friend to whom we had extended hospitality on more than one occasion. There was also no shortage of pictures and other wall decorations of the type which could be found in many a German vicarage. These had been sent to us by dear friends from home. Especially dear to us was an embroidery of the second verse from Psalm 90, executed beautifully by dear mission sisters and sent to the vicarage in Botshabelo. This reminded us of those times when, surrounded by enemies, we needed to turn to the Lord, who is to his followers “Ein feste Burg, eine gute Wehr und Waffen “. (13)

The houses of other whites on the station were furnished in a manner very similar to mine, and the busy hands of dear German housewives ensured not only that cleanliness and orderliness prevailed, but also that larders were always filled, that the dining table was laden with healthy food and that regular mealtimes were kept for housemates and guests. Meat was cheap and those who slaughtered animals sold it to others at cost which, if its price had not just gone up, would have been twenty to twenty-five Pfennig per pound, including the bones. Meals were accompanied by mealie pap and bread, as well as potatoes and vegetables. These grew well in the kitchen gardens, and only needed constant watering and for us to fight off garden pests. Beans, peas, cabbages and melons also did well, as did sweet potatoes, although ordinary potatoes fared poorly. The orchards provided us with fruit almost the whole year round, and thus we never lacked for purees and preserves. About twenty different kinds of peaches grew about us in great quantity; also apricots, figs, quince and granadilla, as well as apples, pears, plums, large mulberries, grapes and other fruit. In spite of our extremely cold winters we also succeeded in growing a few orange trees although this took patience and much hard labour. Semi-wild pigs roamed the orchards for many months, feeding upon fruit which had dropped down from the trees. Whenever we needed to slaughter one, we captured it and confined it for two months to the pigsty, keeping it fed on mealies. Most of the natives did not eat pork, nor, for that matter, did many visiting Boers and Englishmen; but bacon, smoked pork and sausages, salted and cured just as we did at home, were abundant in the cold winter months, and were kept for our guests who greatly appreciated them. Few travellers and colonists realise that, in spite of the cleanliness of missionaries’ homes and the fine food they are served there, the missionary is not able to spend a lot of money. They do not know that the bread they enjoy is kneaded by the missionary’s wife or his daughter, that the butter is churned with their hands, that the food is cooked by them; the wives of most Boers and Englishmen alike are little inclined to work in the kitchen, if at all. As a result their kitchens are served only by blacks and this is reflected in their larder which seldom lives up to its name. Indeed, the larder of many an English family may be found in the next neighbourhood shop, with its tins of meat, vegetables and preserved food. The burden for our children’s education, which in the case of other missionaries became quite onerous, did not apply to us at Botshabelo because we looked for, and found, a German governess, who taught them with great diligence. Children from other families employed by the mission also took part in the lessons which were held daily at our house in a room specially designated for that purpose. The income I derived from my surgery subsidized our expenses in this connection. The salaries of missionaries in South Africa were generally too low to afford such an expense …

In all good conscience, if I could have taken time off from conducting my surgery, I might then have been able to spend twice or three times as many hours educating our children than was needed, but my practice attracted both Englishmen and Boers. Thus my medical practice was important for, in many ways, it afforded us several advantages. We lived in (unruly) times when a reckless interpretation of the law by many of our neighbours made the survival of our Mission Station well-nigh impossible. Because I was the only doctor for miles around capable of performing major surgery, no one wanted to antagonise me. During the course of many years, by using all the help I could get and through study and experience, I learnt to do amputations with safety. After sitting for some sort of exam in Pretoria I was registered as a doctor and surgeon and was now able to practice lawfully. Our blacks also benefited from my studies and always had the necessary medicines and good instruments available, and because I was often able to save the life of a person by performing difficult surgery, this never failed to instill a lasting sense of trust and thankfulness in my patients.

A number of valuable insights were gained over the years with the building and running of the wagon-maker’s shop. These can be summerised as follows:

Agriculture should remain the main activity of such African families as might have enough arable land for farming; to them the learning of a trade is quite unimportant. However, in those areas where agriculture is not practiced, such as in the cities and in many parts of the Cape Colony, where people are in danger of becoming a dispossed proletariat (like in Lazzaroni’s Naples), matters are quite different. There it is most important that people be given an education and be trained to become an example to their own, providing them with strength and security. In our case, the construction of a wagon-making shop was regarded as a vital necessity, but our natives regarded this activity as a strange and difficult enterprise. Many of them were unable to last out the lengthy and difficult apprenticeship. Running a business, such as our large smithy and the wagon maker’s shop, needed skills that, for the time being, were not to be found among our blacks and it would be some time before any could come forward to take them over and keep them going. Many observers have pointed out that management skills and a sense of business are lacking among Africans, and this proved to be true in our case where only two of our apprentices were eventually able to become independent master builders. The capital necessary to start a business, to buy such basics as wood, iron, paint, coal and the tools of the trade is not, in most cases, available. By comparison much more enthusiasm was shown for carpentry and simple joinery. Africans have a natural aptitude for woodwork. Had our area not suffered from a shortage of trees, to give us beams and planks, many of our Basutos could have become able woodcutters and carpenters because, in spite of all difficulties, there were many who acquired the necessary materials. Many spent their time fashioning little chairs and benches; others, who had worked in the wagon-maker’s shop, put together coffins and lockable trunks, as well as door and window frames, gun shafts and other useful items, and repaired the woodwork on wagons and ploughs. It was noticeable on the west coast that Christian natives often preferred learning those trades useful in the construction of houses of a better standard. The same was found to be true here. All of the men took part in the making of bricks but, because there was not enough clay found to manufacture all that was needed, they also learned to quarry stone from the many rocky outcrops around us, and to dress it. At the same time they also learned to use the koevoet and hammer. The building sites around the village gave many of them an opportunity to learn how to lay bricks and to skillfully erect a dressed stone wall, so successfully in fact that they sold their skills to other Mission Stations as well as to neighbouring whites. Approximately twenty men acquired these skills while others learnt how to thatch in the “Boer style”, so much so that they were soon happily employed on farms near and far. Some people developed skills as gunsmiths and these also found work amongst the farmers. This trade was, in reality, that of a fitter and turner and gained a foothold among the Basutos once they began to acquire guns. Our gunsmiths did not learn their trade from a white man but from other blacks: they used English tools of the trade and manufactured their own screws, taps, springs and other necessary parts for the gun lock. Martinus Sebuschane was the best gunsmith far and wide, even better than the whites. Such work, which needed fine craftsmanship and industry, rather than great manual strength, was favoured by the Basutos; this is why the weaving of baskets and the preparation of skins, the tanning and the sewing together of all these little pieces, is well liked by the men of this tribe. Our men also liked tanning although the meticulous sewing together of small pieces of skin into cloaks fell increasingly into disfavor amongst them. The beautiful furs seen in former times as part of heathen dress are becoming rarer and rarer amongst people, because the animals used for this are disappearing rapidly and the blanket, more easily available, is now used instead.

It is also probable that the Basutos would have enjoyed working on the loom. They know how to spin wild cotton into threads and might possibly have liked to also spin wool. A loom serves to generate extra income indoors, when rains prevent work in the fields, or during the fallow season. My biggest wish was to start such an industry, but capital was needed and I had already committed myself to building the mill and the school. So this idea came to naught.

In later years we were also able to begin a printing works and found that the Basutos showed skill and deftness in type setting; within a short time the foreman of the printing press, who was also a qualified printer, trained some quite useful artisans.

Following the departure of Herr Kamann, the shop in our village was closed for a time, but was soon reopened under the management of our mission. A young trader especially trained in this sort of business, was sent out and he received a salary but no commission. I had personally lobbied in Berlin for the establishment of such a mission shop or business, mostly because our people’s need for an honest service was uppermost in my mind. Had they been forced to go to Middelburg for every small transaction, the traffic between the two villages would have become unmanageable. There they might be tempted to succumb to the dangers of drinking brandy, because in these shops, as elsewhere in South Africa, it is customary to ply their best customers with the drink. People would also have been tempted to get themselves into debt, forcing us to help their creditors regain what is rightfully theirs, going even as far as sequestration. It is also true that people are talked and deceived into buying unnecessary items. My fellow missionaries agreed with me, not only upon this point, but also because their low salaries would not allow them to buy their daily provisions from such expensive country shops. The necessary articles of clothing, shoes etc were brought from Germany as part of a yearly consignment, and the rest was ordered by mail from shopkeepers in Natal. Transport of all our boxes from the coast, and the bookkeeping involved in paying off all these invoices etc, increased from year to year. Because of our shop in Botshabelo we obtained favourable discounts and the shopkeeper was able to take care of all transactions and any transport problems that might arise. This was to the satisfaction of all concerned. We gave no credit, not a drop of brandy was to be had from us and we also did not stock unnecessary items of personal adornment, but our prices were relatively cheap and therefore our people seldom went elsewhere. However, when we compared our profits with those of earlier years, these dropped as competition became more severe, and it became increasingly difficult to conduct an honest business where debits had to be made up, or credit had to be obtained, in order to enlarge our storerooms and to buy more transport wagons …

The founding of all such business enterprises was determined by local circumstances, but I could not help the feeling that, without these, the spiritual development of our community might have progressed better. Our people might have acquired fewer worldly skills, but there would have been less distrust of missionaries and the mission itself (as they often believed that we made a great profit from these activities). I believe that mission work can retain its honest image only if it is not tainted by commercial enterprise, and only if it receives its income in the form of a levy (such as rates and taxes) from householders. The founding of trade schools can also be left safely to the State or to private enterprise, because these are only wanted in a colonial context and, even if shops were needed, the mission should only build houses and lease them under carefully controlled conditions …

The Basutos, true to their character, mainly practiced agriculture, but also did some herding. Not much land was available which could yield a good crop without fertilizing. Had there really been enough fertile land for all, people would soon have become very rich very quickly, as they certainly did not lack insight, industry and drive. After some years many of the fields we had cultivated in earlier times began to suffer from reduced yields and had to be left to lie fallow. Over the last few years our average yield per year was a total 3000-3500 sacks of mealies and millet (one sack equals 100kg), because we received on average 280-320 sacks as our yearly tithe. Therefore each family harvested, on an average, twelve sacks of corn, or about two per head. Besides this, large amounts of beans, sweet potatoes, pumpkins and other vegetables were also planted. Within a short time ploughs were being used alongside hoes, all in all about 40 of them. If someone wanted to break in new ground and had no plough, he would rent one, because working with a hoe was backbreaking and cost too much time and effort.

Because there were relatively few pieces of fertile ground available, the use of fertilizer became more and more widespread. People came to understand that although there were also abundant weeds growing, these were now offset by higher crop yields. Families who placed their livestock together in a common byre, shared out fairly between them the dung which accumulated; there were even cases where dung was bought and sold. In the last year a few people began to irrigate those plots where wheat could be grown, but unhappily the ground thus accessible was of poor quality. The manufacture of bone meal, which I had often planned, was never realised. The sale of millet and mealies was easy because a lot of wagons driven by Boers and traders regularly stopped on the mission. In later years the Basutos sold about 1000 sacks yearly, either for cash or in trade for livestock or game, the latter being bought from Boer hunters. Grain was often traded into our shop in exchange for goods. Soon the number of our people who could afford to purchase wagons grew and then they were able to transport their produce to markets outside the mission. About 15 or 20 wagons were owned by the Basutos. Since at that time a wagon cost 1500-2000 Marks, and the oxen to drive it about the same, this showed that our people had become quite wealthy.

At the time when he left the station, the wealthiest man amongst them was a Mokopa, Simeon Tschueni. He owned a very good wagon, two spans of twelve oxen apiece, a good herd of cattle and 2000 Marks in cash which he had lent out for interest. His property was therefore valued at 7000 Marks. He was an honest and well organised man who had got where he had through industry and good housekeeping. A few others owned just about as much as he did.

The trees planted in earlier times yielded a rich harvest of peaches. Had there been a market for dried fruit this would have been another source of income, and the profit would have made it possible to expand the orchard. Unfortunately interest in the planting of more fruit trees waned because the market for fruit, either fresh or dried, was small. However, many families dried fruit for their own consumption.

Regrettably our herds caused us more worries than profit. Since the time when lung sickness (14) had taken hold in South Africa, no profitable herding had been possible in villages where passing traffic was common. The towns and villages of whites, as well as blacks, suffered much from this epidemic which spread again and again causing herds to succumb in great numbers … In the last year we had about 700-900 cattle.

In spite of all these troubles the wealth of our inhabitants rose year after year. Most houses and yards remained in the simple style of old; square houses, for which expensive beams were needed and which had doors and windows made by carpenters, numbered about ten. People have especially prospered over the past few years because of the war between the English and Sekukuni when a lot of money was brought into the country. Labourers earned a good salary and a sack of mealies fetched twenty Marks. Using their own money the community was able to purchase Krokodilsdrift for 7000 Marks in 1875, and in 1879 paid 9000 Marks for Doornkop II, land which was needed for winter grazing. During these years almost everyone wore European clothing. Only a few, mostly poor, elderly people, wore a blanket or a shirt, under which they hid a traditional leather covering. Children, in the main, wore only a shirt, and the little ones went naked except for a little loin cloth. Men and women were all dressed in a decent and clean manner and according to the climate. On weekdays many women wore dark blue or green printed cotton, which our shop had introduced. Once, when Governor Lanyon saw our people coming home in the evening from the fields, he asked them if they wore their Sunday best, and when he was told that it was not so, he was quite astonished that so many natives were dressed so cleanly and decently. On Sundays most of them attended church in clean clothes, the young girls looking gay in light, off-white cotton dresses, but at communion almost everyone preferred to wear dark colours. There was no show of luxury in their dress apart from the custom that bridal dresses should now be made from thin, white cloth.

Once the practice of the “podi " had fallen into disuse (the shaving of all hair off the head), it became necessary to find a suitable means of covering women’s heads. The kappie worn by Afrikaner Boer wives did not appear attractive on our women’s heads and a European straw hat looked even worse. Wearing of the latter apparel was averted (although some women had already taken to wearing them), by making it fashionable to wear colourful headscarves. Girls often wore ribbons over their wooly heads, and even over their scarves. Dresses and skirts, especially those for the children, came from our own stock which had been provided by the dear women of the mission societies back home. Each year the greater part of it was sold, but some of it was exchanged for work done. Otherwise the women bought cloth from the shop and soon there were many who sewed for their family, or for others, for a fee. Some women, having grown up as indentured labourers on Boer farms, had already learned to sew from their mistresses, but our young girls learned this skill in sewing classes conducted once weekly by the women of our mission, where attendance for the elder girls was made obligatory.

The spiritual care of our community remained the same as always. Our catechism lessons were continued as of old but, in the latter years literacy was enforced and only old age was accepted as an excuse. The African adults learned to read surprisingly well. We never gave them formal lessons. This skill then was acquired, in their spare time, on a one-to-one basis. The highlight of our spiritual life was the main church service on Sundays when, to our great delight, the whole community participated. The missionaries Herr Duering and Herr Winter, who had received musical training, founded a choir for four voices. Twice weekly hundreds of people assembled for singing lessons. The results were highly rewarding. It was only now that the Basutos learned how to sing German chorals and hymns, because singing in four voices led them to acquire better hearing and singing skills. The old rhythmic chorals (based upon the hymn book of Layritz) included a thousand voices throughout the whole church and during the service, the responses were also sung in four voices …

Now that we had finally mastered the Basotho language and had gained an understanding of the Basotho character, the sermon could be delivered strongly and impressively. Most listeners followed it well and gave it great attention. Governor Lanyon attended a service in 1880 and was full of praise for the singing and for the attentiveness of the congregation. At first there were no benches in the church but, with time, some people got together and brought one, then others followed suit until the church was filled with benches, each made by black carpenters. In this manner, through self-help, the church was furnished with benches which would otherwise have cost us all of 4000 Marks. At funerals one never saw a corpse anymore without a coffin. This custom had gained acceptance very quickly. Coffins were made very cheaply by Basotho carpenters but the material, which had to be bought, was rather costly, each foot of yellowwood plank at that time costing one Mark.

As we were already used to it, the church year was governed by the German church calendar. It is especially important amongst heathens that the church calendar be adhered to in order to bring colour and form into their lives. Christmas was especially liked and was well celebrated …

Towards the end the school enrolment reached 400 children and we were therefore able to employ a schoolteacher, who had passed his exams before a synodal commission and who had been trained by missionary Knothe. The need for such teachers grew on all mission stations and at Botshabelo in 1897 we were able to open a seminary for school teachers, which has since flourished. Our community’s spiritual life progressed well, with both young and old learning to read and write in Dutch, whilst German was understood by many of those who had worked as boys and girls in the houses of our German families. Every Sunday therefore we conducted a church service in German which was attended by many of our Basutos …

NOTES

1. Named in honour of Frederik Wilhelm IV of Prussia, Patron of the Berlin Mirrionary Society.
2. This term is more correctly spelt daka and refers to a clay and cow-dung mortar, sometime also used as a finishing plaster.
3. This presumably is a reference to “white ants” or termites.
4. The term koevoet is a direct translation from the German Kuhfuss, or a “cow’s foot”, and serves to denote a crowbar.
5. Such structures, originating from the more arid regions of the Cape, were known locally as brakdakhuise. During this time they were commonly found in the arid areas of the Karoo, and it seems likely that Merensky built this contrary to local building wisdom.
6. This last sentence may be found on page 199, and has been inserted here out of sequence.
7. The colonists and artisans in the employ of the Berlin Mission received a fixed monthly salary.
8. Merensky’s text indicates that these axles were fashioned out of timber derived from the oil tree. In all probability this was a generic term used popularly to denote the wild olive tree, several types of which are likely to have been available in the vicinity of Botshabelo. The olea Europaea, found throughout the Transvaal, was a wood preferred for such work, although the olea Capensis and the olea Lauriifda, both more commonly referred to as iron wood trees, could also have been used. The androstachys Johnsonii, or Lebombo Ironwood, was considered to be a good substitute for all of the above.
9. As the name implies, the Norse mill originated in Norway, and was a relatively inefficient structure which used water to drive a paddled wheel laid horizontally with its axle linked in a direct turning ratio to the grindstone. The overshot mill however used a vertical wheel whose axel was connected to a series of gears designed to increase this turning ratio, thereby making it more efficient. It also had the additional advantage of using gravity to drive the wheel by channeling its water to a point above it.
10. A form of early tongue-and-grooved boarding, commonly known at that time as American boarding.
11. This last sentence may be found on page 271, and has been inserted here out of sequence.
12. This paragraph appears as a footnote on page 350, but has been incorporated into the substantive text for the sake of simplification.
13. This translates directly as “A mighty fortress is our God, a trusty shield and weapon”. Its source is Psalm 91 but the German words themselves are derived from a hymn composed by Martin Luther, based on Psalm 46.
14. Better known as the rinderpest, it originated in Somaliland in 1889 and rapidly spread south through east Africa and reached South Africa in 1897. It was only brought under control after a serum was developed locally, but not until local herds had been decimated.
15. This passage refers to King Mswati II who was also known as Mavuso. He invited Rev Allison to establish a Mission Station at Mahamba in 1844. The incident mentioned by Merensky did not take place, as he states, as a result of Mswati’s death, which occurred in 1868, but because the Regent, Malambule, had retained some of the Royal cattle and, upon being charged of this fact, had sought refuge with the missionary concerned.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ANONYMOUS. c1979. Botshabelo. Simon van der Stel.
BIERMANN, Barrie. 1990. Maleoskop - Fort Wilhelm – Mapochsgrond: A study of accelerated architectural evolution. Architecture SA, January/February 1990.
DELIUS, Peter. 1983. The Land Belongs to Us. Johannesburg: Ravan Press.
MERENSKY, A. 1875. Beitrage zur Kenntnis Sud-Afrikas. Berlin.
MERENSKY, DA. c1889. Erinnerungen aus dem Missionsleben in Transvaal, 1859-1882. Berlin: Buchhandlung der Berliner Evangel. Missionsgesellschaft.
SANDEMAN, EF. 1880. Eight Months in an Ox-Waggon: Reminiscences of Boer Life.
WALTON, James. c1979. Report of a Survey of Fort Wilhelm, Botchabelo, Middleburg, Transvaal. Cape Town: Simon van der Stel.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Illustration 1: Alexander Merensky, of the Berlin Mission Station
Illustration 2: The headquarters of the Berlin Mission in Berlin.
Illustration 3: Plan of the Botshabelo Mission Station, 1882.
Illustration 4: View of the Botshabelo Mission Station, c1872.
Illustration 5: Pedi dwelling, Botshabelo Mission Station c1870.
Illustration 6: View of Botshabelo Mission Station in its early stages of development.
Illustration 7: First church building, Botshabelo Mission Station.
Illustration 8: Sekhukhune II, King of the Pedi.
Illustration 9: Maleo’s Kop, depicting the Swazi massacre of 10 May 1864.
Illustration 10: Plan, section and elevations of Fort Wilhelm.
Illustration 11: View of Botshabelo Mission Station, c1875 showing the dominant position of Fort Wilhelm over the surrounding countryside.
Illustration 12: The wagonmaker’s shop, Botshabelo Mission Station c1875.
Illustration 13: Crossing a river drift, probably in the Transvaal.
Illustration 14: The elements of the Cape Wagon, rendered by Burchell in 1811. The construction of this vehicle was a highly sophisticated process involving a high degree of skill in wood and iron working as well as an intimate knowledge of indigenous timbers and their respective properties.
Illustration 15: View of Botshabelo Mission Station showing Merensky’s house in the foreground with Fort Wilhelm dominating the scheme. The use of Merensky’s second church building as a transept for his third structure is clearly evident.
Illustration 16: Medical clinic at the Linokana Mission Station. Merensky used his healing skills in the community not only to further his missionary objectives but also to supplement his income and subsidise his childrens’ education.
Illustration 17: General view of Botshabelo Mission Station at the height of its expansion.

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