by Jaco de Beer
Chapter 1. The old Bushman
Many, many, many summers ago when Kaggen, the mantis, created the moon, it was so close that the Bushmen could see the winged gods and the other people on it. They came from the stars and the old man pointed towards Orion's belt like it was a well known fact. Yes they, (the ones on the moon) could also see the Bushmen and many of them liked to watch when the Bushmen were hunting. The strongest of these Bushmen hunters was ThxawaThxini and he didn’t like it if anybody watched him. One evening just before the moon came up; he climbed to the highest peak of the Chimanimani mountains and waited. He took his best, a bone-tipped arrow to shoot it at the watchers. The Bushmen of antiquity had many powers and they were not scared of the gods from the sky. It was one mighty effort of bow and hunter to get the arrow to reach the moon. Unfortunately he hit one of the gods in the arse just as he was bending over the cooking fire.
This god got such a fright that he burned himself and that made him really angry at ThxawaThxini. He took one of the pots from the fire and threw its contents onto the Bushmen hunter. It was a pot of melted gold that fell north of the Limpopo River in the land of the Shona people. The brave hunter was running South to get away from this fire that fell from the sky. Next the fire god grabbed a pot full of copper and threw that at ThxawaThxini just as he was crossing the Limpopo River. Bushmen hunters then could run as fast as the wind and the burning copper fell far behind him, north of the Zoutpansberg. ThxawaThxini turned himself into a cheetah and was still running West when a pot of silver flew high over his head and landed on the other side of the mighty Lantic River. The only effect it had was to turn the hunter South, away from the mountains.
This made the god really cross and he took the biggest and most valuable of his pots, a pot of molten iron and threw that at the hunter. The fire god aimed ahead of ThxawaThxini where he would be slowed down by the crossing of the Crocodile River. Just to make sure, this god took a second pot of molten iron and threw that just short of the great Gariep River. If the first pot missed then surely the second one would hit ThxawaThxini. Now there was fire all over the sky and the brave Bushman didn't know which way to run. Just where he was slowed down by the crossing of the Crocodile River he met his end. The strong brave hunter was buried under a mountain of iron that to this day is known to everyone as Thxaba Zimbi. (Mountain of Iron.)
With veld fires raging everywhere and fearing for their lives his clan trekked from the Chimanimani mountains (which the locals also called “The Backbone of the World”), to the deserts of the Khxalahari and the Namieb. What stopped them from going further was the hight of the Silver Mountains. All his wives and children cried for him, big shiny tears that to this day can be found in the sand along the rivers of South Africa.
“Those could be diamonds”, said Johannes with a twinkle in his eye.
“We already know where Thabazimbi is”, said Samburu.
“Let the old man finish his story”, was Coenraad's calming comment.
The fire god punished the Bushmen by taking away their powers and turning all the other peoples against them. The “ouvolk” of antiquity used to be able to change themselves into anything they wanted but not any more. Wherever the Bushmen went, they were hunted like animals and always driven back into the desert. Nobody wanted the Bushmen to live amongst them for fear of the wrath of the fire gods. At last ThxawaThxini's clan crossed the great Lantic River that divided the desert from the forests. They cried so much for their beloved hunter that the river started filling up with their tears. With so much water the hippo multiplied and eventually there were so many that they stomped the edge of the river into a soft mud. The mud was so soft and there was so much water that the land on the far side of the river started drifting away on the wind. After many generations they drifted away over the horizon never to be seen again. But we know that they are still there because at night their fires reflect in the watery lakes of the heavens.
Once all of ThxawaThxini's descendants disappeared over the horizon the fire god was satisfied. But he took one more precaution and that was to move the moon further away so that nobody would ever be able to shoot an arrow all the way to the moon again. . .
There was a long silence around the fire that night. This unusual gathering of different people just stared as if hypnotized into the flickering flames of the camp fire. The giggling of a hyena in the distance, contrasts with the otherwise soothing sounds of the African bush. Everyone saw a different story in the way the flames danced on the logs and in the crackling conversation of the fire turning wood into hot coals. It is easy to understand why some people still believe that fire could only come from the gods. Coenraad re-arranged some of the logs on the fire and sparked an explosion of thousands of glowing embers drawn high into the cool night sky.
Even in the dim light of the camp fire it was clear that this old Bushmen spent many years in the African sun. His whole body was full of wrinkles – he looked more like a bag of bones covered in a badly wrinkled yellow-brown skin. He sat with his good leg pulled up against his wrinkled stomach and the stump of his other leg pointing 45 degrees away from the ground. This leg was freshly bandaged to protect the amputation just below the knee. Next to him was Samburu a strong, pitch black African man originally from Mozambique. Coenraad's grandfather bought him as a boy at a slave market in Cape Town for sixty Rickdaalders. Almost hanging over Samburu was a much younger man, watching the Bushmen's every move and gesture. His features were more Indian than African and he claims that his parents were both from Madagascar. He is called Antonie van de Kust because he was still a child without a name when he stood under the slave traders tree in Cape Town.
On the other side of the Bushman sat a giant of a man (seven feet tall) Coenraad de Buys, the only one that can make some sense from the old mans clicks and clacks. With Coenraad’s explanations and the hand and body gestures from the old Bushman, the small audience found themselves drawn deeper and deeper into his world. This was especially true for Coenraad's son Michael who sat just a little bit too far from his father but didn't take his eyes of the old Bushman.
With the help of the fire and the flames it felt like they could almost read his mind. But what a combination of black, tiny yellow, giant blond and coloured men on the other side of that fire. Not that the rest of the group was any less odd in its make-up. Coenraad's older sister, his youngest brother and a Hottentot called Hendrik made up the rest of the party. Hendrik has been like an older brother to Coenraad and they have been together since their days of hiding in the Sederberg. The only woman was Sansunna, a very tall, (six foot six) 37 year old spinster, with long blond hair hanging in a ponytail on her back. Next to her sat her youngest brother Johannes and between him and Coenraad the tall and slim Hottentot man, Hendrik. Indeed an unusual gathering of different souls around this fire many weeks travel from the nearest civilization or so they thought...
That evening was the first time they saw some of the peaks of Bromberg sticking out above the layers of cloud that keeps it hidden most of the year. Around the fire the focus of attention kept shifting between the old Bushman and Coenraad. “What happened after that”, Coenraad tries to coach out of the old hunter in his best effort of clicks and clacks. Bushmen are expert story-tellers but have a tendency to stretch things out and make the listeners wait for the details. More so if they are trying to negotiate a reward for their stories. In this case the old hunter wanted a quid of chewing tobacco to calm the pain of his amputated leg. “Cut him just one koutjie.” Coenraad looked at Antonie that was struggling to tear himself away from the conversation to cut one bite from the roll of tobacco in Coenraad's saddle bag. With a plug of tobacco rolling around in his cheek the old Bushman continued his story.
The fire god was still cross with the Bushmen, that is why he took his fire and moved to the other side of the moon. When the moon moved further and further away the nights became colder and colder. In the deserts of the Khxalahari and the Namieb even more so and the Bushmen were destined to shiver
in the bone-chilling nights and fry in the blazing heat of the day. Some winters would be so cold that the water in the ostrich eggs and calabashes would freeze solid. Only those Bushmen that learned how to make fire were able to survive these harsh winters. It was on such a cold winters night about a week ago that this old timer was sleeping with his one foot too close to the fire. But let us take a step back to find out what this group was doing here in the African bush-veld and how the old Bushman lost part of his leg.
The French Revolution changed the political landscape forever. Descendants of the French Huguenots as far as the Southern tip of Africa felt excited about the change and the violent birth of democracy in Europe. Pioneers also called “trek boers” like the Kruger family were living on the fringes of the Cape colony, making a living from herding cattle and hunting wild animals. Other pioneers like Coenraad de Buys moved Eastward and leased farms from the government. Coenraad leased three farms one in the Camdeboo, another in the Zuurveldt and a third between the Sundays and Bushman rivers of the eastern Cape. This put him right on the frontier and well positioned for his secondary business of hunting elephant for their ivory.
On one of these hunting trips he met a runaway slave called Bengali, who could speak Dutch and acted as an interpreter at the court of Ndlambe, the acting Xhosa chief. Coenraad knew that once he learnt to speak the Xhosa language a little better, he would be able to do the same job as Bengali. He already spoke Dutch and English very well, a little bit of French and could communicate effectively with the Hottentot and Bushman in the Cape. Coenraad saw this as an attractive opportunity to gain the trust of the Xhosa people and allow him to travel further East along the beautiful coastline of Southern Africa. Political changes in the Cape brought about by the decline in Dutch maritime power, sped up the process.
Mindful of the political instability after the Dutch lost to the English at the Battle of Blaauwberg, the Xhosa warriors in the Eastern Cape, raided the Boer farms in the summer of 1795. Coenraad's farm was burned to the ground and he lost everything. All the other farmers got together to form a “straf kommando”, to punish the Xhosa. Yet he felt himself freed from the burdens of constant payments and did just the opposite of all the other Boers. He packed all his belongings on a wagon and took his whole family across the great Fishriver and started living amongst the Xhosa people as an interpreter to the young King Ghika and his mother Yese. Many of his neighbours were sure that he lost his mind and would soon be dead like the Hubner party of elephant hunters.
Coenraad found more than just a friend in the passionate queen of the Xhosas. The young chief Ghika was still too young to govern his people. His mother Yese, reigned as queen, together with her late husband's brother Ndlambe. As the great wife of the previous chief-to-be, Mlawu, it was expected of her to look for some strong manly genes and produce more heirs for her late husband's house. Therefore the passionate affair that she had with the giant elephant hunter, was perfectly acceptable to the Xhosa people and Coenraad soon found himself as a trusted and admired advisor to the royal house. Coenraad was instrumental in the establishment of a mission station and became good friends with the missionary dr. van der Kemp. But after a few years he became restless again.
----------> to be continued.
Thank you for your interest so far, please visit again soon because I will try and add content on a weekly basis as I manage to edit it into a readable form.
For more information about my progress with the "Camelthorn Giants" trilogy and the adventures of Coenraad de Buys, visit:
www.camelthorngiants.co.za
