The forgiving earth

Mathew’s head was pounding as though there were a million drums beating in it, the pain was excruciating. He felt his body being consumed by fire while his chest felt like it was collapsing onto his lungs forcing his life saving air out. ‘I’m in hell!’ Was his first logical thought. He opened his eyes sluggishly, his eyelids felt as if they were glued to his eyeballs. The air was filled with a grey, foul-smelling smoke, that stung his eyes. In the hazy center of the smoke, he saw a terrible image. It looked like a face, but was painted white, the eye sockets and cheek hollows were black smudges, while the mouth was a bright red blotch. The head was framed by rows of sharp yellow teeth.  Terrible, twisted horns were growing from a second black head, that seemed to be growing from the top of the first head.  Mathew screamed as he realized he was looking straight at the Devil. The next minute the Devil’s face was replaced by a pair of cat green eyes, staring at him from the smoke.

He would never forget those eyes!  ‘William, why did you shoot me?’ He tried to get the words out, but they floated in his brain with no release.  He felt a pang of sadness when he realized that William was also in hell! Unexpectedly he felt a terrible pain in his chest, he thought he was being stabbed with a fiery spear. His eyes shut immediately, trying to block out the immense pain. Gradually the pain in his chest diminished, but the pain in his mind continued. Ghastly memories started to come back to Mathew. He remembered a demon filling his body with worms, horrible fat maggot that wanted to eat him up.  He had struggled to free himself, but then hundreds of  little devils were all over him, they tied him up so that the worms could feast. His next memory was of the demon trying to slice him up with a knife, he could still feel the cold blade against his back and chest. Then the poison! He could still taste the bitter poison on his lips. He  had refused to open his mouth, and the poison dripped to his body and burned his flesh like liquid fire! HELL was worse than anybody had ever told him! It was a place where demons killed you over and over in so many different, painful ways! Finally, an exhausted sleep claimed Mathew’s mind.

Mathew heard a gentle soft giggle, and the sound of running water. Cautiously he opened one eye, fearing which demon he would see next. Nothing happened, slowly he opened his other eye. Looking straight up, all he could see was the black thatch that made out a roof, supported by thick beams. He heard the soft laugh again, slowly he let his eyes roll to the left. He might have been in hell before, but Mathew was now convinced that he was in heaven. Leisurely he stared at the sight before him. There was a tin bath, standing before a large fire. As his eyes travelled upwards, he saw the back of very exquisite knees, with the shapeliest upper legs that lead up to a gracefully round derrière. The tiny waist had two dimples just above the buttocks. The rest of the body was covered by a curtain of long black hair. Mathew looked a little to the left of this angel, at the strange looking Black lady who was standing on a little footstool. Her legs, from the ankle  to the knees  were encircled with golden rings, making her look like a golden statue. From her neck to the gold covered legs the Black lady was enclosed in a dark blue blanket. Her neck was stretched to an extraordinary length and was encircled with the same golden rings as her legs. On her black peppercorn hair was a strange shaped flat hat, resembling the one worn by graduates, in the same blue as her blanket. The hat was covered in tiny colorful glass beads, neatly sowed into various shapes. Mathew knew he was looking at some-one from the famous Matabele tribe, commonly called the giraffe people because of their long necks. Yet, at that moment, he was more interested in what the strange woman was doing, rather than in how she looked. Mathew saw her lift a large water jug, and gently pour the water over the black-haired angel, making her hair appear to be a black waterfall. As the water ran down her body, her hair stuck to her body, giving Mathew a glimpse of the beautiful shape underneath. Mathew felt his heart pounding in his ears, and his breath caught in his throat, and it had nothing to do with his wounds. He watched silently as the little Black lady walked to a shelf by the fireplace and took down a blanket, holding it open for his black-haired angel. She stepped out of the bath and was engulfed in the warm blanket towel, a slight aroma of Roses and Lavender filled the air. After drying herself, she elegantly stepped into a dress and  sat before the fire, while the Matabele lady gently brushed out her black trestles. The entire time they were speaking softly in a strange tongue, full of clicking sounds, Mathew guessed that it might be the Xhosa language. As he watched he saw how the maid plated the hair into one long braid, hanging down his angel’s back. He wished that she would turn around, so that he could see her face, but all he could glimpse was her back. Slowly Mathew felt his eyes grow heavy again, and no matter how much he fought against it, he was soon in a deep sleep once more.

Cassandré looked down at her sleeping patient. She shuddered at the thought that she had nearly buried him alive! After realizing her mistake, she tried everything to heal his wounds. The thought of those wounds angered her, shot in the back, and stabbed twice with a bayonet.   It could only be the work of a cowardly English soldier! Even though the war was over, they were still killing the Boers, the white Afrikaans farmers of South Africa. She wondered if her twin brother, William was lying dead somewhere, shot by a Khaki Soldier.

“How is our patient?” Zandile asked. Looking at her Xhosa maid, her eyes filled with sadness she replied, “His fever has broken, but he is still unconscious. I am worried Zandile, we have tried everything! We had the maggots eat the rotten flesh, I cut out the bullet. We have tried to keep the wound clean with spirits. I hope that this last attempt worked.”  Zandile looked at her charge with compassion, “I am sure he will get better. The witchdoctor of my tribe has brought many a man back from the ancestors. We must just be patient, the ancestors will provide the healing and return him.” Cassandré hoped that these ‘ancestors’ would work fast. She wanted to know who the man was, but most importantly, why did he shout out William’s name when the witchdoctor was working on him? Did he know her brother, did they fight together against the English?

The room soon filled with children of various ages coming if for their breakfast. Cassandré looked at them with love, but at the same time her hatred for the British people grew. War orphans they were labelled, but to her they were a testimony of a brave nation. Many of the children’s mothers had been with Cassandré in the terrible concentration camp set up by the British. Camps set up with the design to wipe out an entire Afrikaner nation.

Mathew slowly regained consciousness, he could her the chatter of many children in the room, all in Afrikaans. He gradually realized that he must be in a home of a Boer family. There were not many farms left after the British army decided to burn all farms and livestock during the war. He listened silently from his mattress on the floor. He caught a glimpse of his black-haired angel as she was reading a Bible passage to the children after breakfast. 

She turned her eyes to him, and he gasped with surprise. Those eyes! They were the exact same color and shape as William’s eyes. The realization hit him, he must be at the farm that belonged to William. William, the young man he had befriended in the savannah. William had joined a renegade band of Boer soldiers after his father was killed. Their main aim was to kill as many British soldiers as they could. Having broken away from the army, and living in the savannah, these men had no idea that the war was over, South Africa was now under British rule. William had mistaken Mathew for a Boer, and Mathew continued to let him believe that, thinking that after gaining his trust, he would finally convince him that the war was over. The two men had stuck up a close friendship. William had confided to Mathew that he would never return home, even though they were near his farm. He felt that he had let his family and nation down. William and his father had been envoys for the war, carrying important secrets from one Afrikaner camp to another. William had  secretly watched from his hiding place in a cave, as the British shot and burned his father. He was drowning in guilt for not trying to save is father. William had an intense hatred for the British, especially after he learned that his mother and beloved twin, Cassandré, had been taken to the concentration camps, he believed them to be dead.  

Regrettably, William found out Mathew‘s true identity. William found Mathew’s service rifle, and in a rage shot Mathew in the back, using the bayonet at the end of the rifle he stabbed him as he lay on the hard ground.

Mathew decided it would be best for him to continue to pretend to be Afrikaans. The days turned into weeks, and Mathew’s wounds healed, and he grew stronger each day. As winter closed in, Mathew helped Cassandré with the difficult preparations on the farm. As his health grew stronger, so did his admiration for Cassandré. Their friendship grew and blossomed into a tender love.

Mathew knew that it could not work, their love was based on lies! He could not tell her that he was part of the nation that had thrown her and her mother into a concentration camp. How could he excuse the slow, agonizing  death of her mother and so many others at the camp? Dare he tell her that her beloved brother, William was still alive? Would William try to kill him again if he found him at the farm with his sister?

How could he explain that he had grown up hearing tales of the glory of the British Empire, and he believed in its mission to bring civilization to the far reaches of the world.

As his ship had approached the shores of South Africa, Mathew couldn't help but feel a sense of adventure. He imagined himself as a hero, fighting bravely for Queen and Country. The British Empire had always been a source of pride for him, and he was eager to do his part.

Upon arriving in South Africa, Mathew was stationed in a small village on the frontlines of the conflict. At first, everything seemed clear-cut to him. The British were here to bring order and progress, and the Boers were rebels standing in the way of progress. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Mathew began to see a different side of the war.

The first shock came when Mathew encountered the concentration camps. He had heard that they were necessary to house the families of Boer fighters, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of emaciated children and desperate mothers. The conditions were deplorable, and disease ran rampant. Mathew couldn't reconcile the suffering he witnessed with the ideals of the British Empire.

As he patrolled the countryside, Mathew also witnessed the scorched earth policy in action. Entire villages were burned to the ground, their inhabitants left homeless and destitute. It was a brutal tactic meant to deprive the Boers of resources, but it also affected innocent civilians. The line between right and wrong became blurred in Mathew's mind, and he struggled to make sense of it all.

As the war raged on, Mathew found himself torn between his love and duty towards Britain and his growing affection for South Africa and its people. He questioned the righteousness of the British cause and the methods employed in this conflict. The war had become a morally complex quagmire, and Mathew felt trapped in the middle.

One day, as Mathew patrolled a scorched village, he discovered a hidden cache of letters. They were heartfelt messages from Boer soldiers to their families, expressing their love and longing. Reading those letters, Mathew realized that the Boers were not just faceless rebels but human beings with their own hopes and fears.

In the end, Mathew's loyalty to the British Empire wavered. He could no longer justify the suffering he witnessed. When the war finally came to an end, Mathew decided to stay in South Africa. He travelled in the Savanah where he had met up with William.

How could he explain that his behavior, his lies, his deceit  were all a result of his past experiences. Likewise, Cassandré hatred was also a result of her past experiences, but was it justified?

Could they overcome their past, could there be forgiveness and understanding? Could Cassandré take a lesson from the earth? The earth had been burnt, its watering holes salted and poisoned, and its animal life brutally killed.  Yet it regained its power, forgave humans, fed, and homed the very people who tried to destroy it.

Our past actions and experiences can explain our behavior, but should it decide our future