Hope in a Bowl of Dust

An overheard snippet of conversation changed my life forever.

It was early December 1871, and I was clearing the table before the serving of dessert when Mr Baxter dropped the bombshell.

“The geological report is in,” he told his wife in a low voice drowned by the humming of their guests’ conversation.

I pricked my ears. I slowed my pace and moved closer, stacking plates on my arm.

“The main diamond pipe is located north of the current diggings,” he said, “just to left of the rock formations on the kopje. Not a word about this to anyone, Nellie,” he warned. “I’ll get my men to stake our claims first thing in the morning.”

A good thing that servants, as they said, were invisible. He didn’t even register my presence.

I felt dizzy, my mouth dry. It was the first solid information we’d heard since my brother and I arrived at the diamond fields five months ago. News of the discovery of diamonds in the Kimberley area had reached our family at the lowest point in our lives. We were struggling to hold on to our farm after foot-and-mouth disease had decimated our herds. That disaster was followed by a scorching drought that turned our crops to dust.

My brother Danny was all fired up by the news of the newly discovered diamond fields. He was going to find enough diamonds to save the farm. Mother, Father, and my older brother Pete were less excited. They didn’t believe in fairy tales.

“Nobody builds a future on the off chance that he’s going to find a shiny stone in hectares upon hectares of rock and dust, my boy.” Dad gave him the look. “In the sweat of your brow you will eat your food,” he quoted from the Bible.

“But Father! What if Danny can find enough diamonds to cover our debts?” I asked. “The Fourie brothers said they found three in less than two weeks. They were just lying there in plain sight! The farmer on whose land they found the diamonds, Daniel Jacobs, found his son playing with shiny stones that he had collected the week before.”

“What about that geologist, Atherstone, who examined the region and concluded it was impossible to find diamonds there?”

“Well, he changed his mind after a neighbour of Jacobs’ brought him one to examine. It turned out to be a 21.25-carat diamond! So, I’m going.”

“Me too,” I declared firmly.

I might as well have thrown a skunk on the table. Outrage hardly described my family’s reaction. It was unthinkable that a respectable woman would throw away her good name by travelling to diggings somewhere in the back of beyond. Shame and horror!

“I’ll be with Danny,” I protested. “I’ll earn a wage in the sweat of my brow as a nanny or housekeeper for a local family who will provide me with lodgings. It will all be very proper.”  

The mighty battle of the wills ended a week later with Danny and I leaving before the daybreak. For the first time in years, we faced the desolation around us with hope and excitement. The everlasting sky above without a trace of cloud. Dawn painting the first strokes of day onto the never-ending plains stretching towards the horizon amid rocky outcrops with not a sign of civilisation as far as the eye could see. It was a harsh and arid land, unforgiving and cruel. Yet we loved it fiercely.

“Thank you, Emma.”

Mrs Baxter interrupted my thoughts as I collected her dirty plate. Mr Baxter, suddenly wondering if I overheard his conversation, torched me with his eyes. I smiled, bobbed, and disappeared into the kitchen before my nerves could betray me.

How was I going to get the info to Danny? Visiting his tent alone at night was out of the question. I couldn’t send one of the men without sharing my secret. Unless…

The housekeeper’s husband, who tended the horses, was illiterate. I hastily scribbled and sealed a note and went in search of him. He would be alone at their quarters near the stables as his wife was still on duty. Their son was a digger who worked a claim not too far from Danny’s, so he knew exactly where he lived.

Sneaking out the side door, I remembered how naïve Danny and I had been when we left the farm, dreaming of a brighter future during the 6-day journey. The first sight of the diamond fields shocked us back to reality.

Teeming with more than 50,000 diggers, it was covered by a permanent cloud of dust being beaten down by the merciless sun.  We dodged ruts, rocks, potholes, and pedestrians as we battled our way towards the claim registration office.

Dread rolled over me like hot tar. It filled my lungs until I struggled to breathe. The noise, the filth, the flies, strange smells assaulting my nostrils…

“We made a terrible mistake, Danny.” My voice trembled.

“Have faith, sis. We’ve never been quitters and we’re not starting now. We can do this.”

The confidence in his voice reassured me. South Africa was a tough country to live in. It bred tough people.

I spotted a woman leaning over the railing of a gambling house veranda, offering a generous view of her breasts. She pouted her painted lips and batted her lashes at Danny.

There wasn’t a respectable home in sight. Tents, corrugated iron shacks and mudbrick huts dotted the landscape amid holes of various sizes and depths swarming with diggers. There was a rudimentary bank and a few stores and offices. A bar, brothel and church jostled for space on the same block. I saw a strange machine pumping steam into the air and another with a conveyer belt on which rocks rattled along at a steady pace. They were deftly sorted by the hopeful. I could almost taste the excitement, despair, impatience, and hope in the air.

Danny and I were lucky to find the Baxter homestead on the outskirts of the diamond fields. Their children had all left home, and Mrs Baxter was letting her seven bedrooms out to lodgers. She could do with my services, not as a nanny but as a maid assisting her housekeeper. She could provide me with lodgings and food and very little in the way of money.

After staking and registering his claims, Danny pitched his tent and started digging. From dawn to dusk, he fought the parched, rock-hard soil. He grew as lean as a whip, deep lines forming around his eyes from squinting against the sun. His tan grew deeper, throwing the pale skin of his hat-protected forehead into stark contrast. His hands were rough and calloused. And he had very few diamonds to show for his efforts.

We met for church every Sunday morning. He was always cheerful, entertaining me with jokes and tales from the diggings. Like the guy who lived in a bathtub, turning it against the wind for protection. But I saw the shadow lurking in his eyes, the lines turning his mouth down at the corners during unguarded moments. I stubbornly stomped on my own doubts and regaled him with jokes and stories of my own.

But tonight’s news could be our big break. I felt it in my marrow.

I was useless in the kitchen the next morning. I burnt the toast, spilled coffee over Mr Baxter’s shirt at breakfast and the housekeeper promptly sent me off to the laundry to limit further damage. Never had a day been so long, so utterly exhausting. The air turned thick and muggy as storm clouds gathered and rumbled, ripped by lightning. The farm girl in me prayed fervently that it also meant the end of the long drought on our family farm.

It was almost four o’ clock and I was peeling veggies when Danny knocked on the kitchen door. The look on his face was hard to read. We walked in silence to the edge of the town. He took me gently by the shoulders, turning me to face him. My heart thudded like an African drum.

His huge smile lit up my world.

“We did it, Emma. Today, I registered our new claims. They are slap bang in the middle of the diamond pipe area and do you know what? While I was staking them out, I picked up not two, not three but FOUR diamonds among the rocks! They weigh a total of 61.38-carats! I can’t wait to start digging.”

My world spun. I grabbed hold of Danny while a wave of laughter spilled out of me. The heavens opened and we were drenched in minutes. I started dancing and spinning, lifting my face to the heavens, my mouth wide open in laughter. The rain tasted cool and fresh and healing. The taste of freedom.