On the Warm Shores of Africa - The Ethnic Wars That Left a Legacy of Distrust - The Sequel to A Family Affair

On the Warm Shores of Africa

The ethnic wars that left a legacy of distrust

–  The sequel to A Family Affair –

© Peter Cleary 2018

ISBN 978-0-6399340-5-1

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright owner.

Published by Peter Cleary Books Mtunzini, KZN, 3867

www.peterclearybooks.co.za

peter@peterclearybooks.co.za

Cover photograph by Peter Cleary

Cover design by Jo Petzer of Cosmic Creations

PROLOGUE

There is a place on the warm south-eastern shores of Africa where a river runs through a rocky channel to enter the Indian Ocean.

The river is called Xora and the territory is the Transkei, home of the Gcaleka tribe of the Xhosa people.

I was born there in July 1869, at the small native kraal which stands on the promontory to the south of the river mouth, brought into the world by my grandmother, Buyiswa, who had taught herself the skills of the midwife. A few years later Buyiswa came to live with us after my grandfather, Jimmy Allison, was killed. But that is another story.

I want to tell you about that spiritual place, Xora Mouth and its estuary.

I came to know it well as we went there every year for our summer holidays until Jimmy died when I was nearly six, and after that it was a hostile place, only rediscovered when I was in my twenties.

The first and most important part I remember was about family. My father was raised by his grandparents in a town called Macclesfield, in England, and never knew his father, Jimmy. But he had a great desire to know him and he went searching for him at an early age, only fourteen, he told me. It’s hard to imagine, a boy of fourteen travelling to America in search of his father, and then to Africa where he finally found him, at Xora Mouth, when he was twenty-six years of age.

It still fills me with wonder.

And that is why we trekked down to Xora Mouth every summer to spend a week at Jimmy’s kraal, and my father and grandfather would disappear down the coast for hours at a time, and while they were visible you could see them talking. Catching up, they said. Twenty-six years of catching up.

My mother loved it down there as well. It was where she gave birth to me, a difficult birth which had to take place in that remote location because she fell when on a visit, and hurt her back, and they could not take a chance on riding back to Butterworth, and so she spent the last two months of her pregnancy at Xora Mouth, and the place took on a very special significance for her. Not only the place, also the person of Buyiswa, who became her closest friend.

And I, well, I had lots of friends to play with once I could walk: cavorting naked in the midsummer heat, dogs yapping their excitement at our heels, and when we were older, swimming in the river and the sea and driving the cattle up the hill in the morning where they would graze, and then would wander slowly and deliberately down to the beach in the heat of the day and we would lie with them, always a prelude to the hated tick parade with my mother every night.

I had a special status among my friends as my grandfather was the chief of that little village. They called him Dingikhaya, and so did I. It was only years after he died that my mother told me what that name meant: ‘the one with no home’. She had waited until I could understand the many nuances attached to one who had no home.

When I reflect back on those days I realise how our lives were dominated by the moods and rhythms of the sea. The six or seven huts on that small promontory, perched precariously between ocean and river, could not escape that inexorable cycle.

On the idyllic days the vicinity of Xora Mouth was a limitless playground: the ever-changing mouth as the tides ebbed and flowed; the rock pools in the gullys south of the kraal, where we would spend hours fascinated by the colourful life, trying to catch the little fish in woven baskets; the sand flats when the tide was low and we could walk to the island and explore the mangrove swamp.

And then there were the raw days when the sea and the firmaments were angry, and bitterly cold rain would lash the earth and the waves would drive into the estuary and lightning would dance in the black sky and the noise of thunder would come ever nearer until it was on top of us as we sheltered in those flimsy mud and grass houses.

Sometimes the high spring tide coincided with a flood, and the waters rose until you could no longer see the island, only the tops of the trees. On those days we truly thought our village would be swamped and driven into the sea.

Many years later it was those turbulent times that I remembered when we huddled on the sides of those hills near the Tugela and the air was filled with the crackle of rifle fire and the boom of the cannons.

PART ONE | JAKE

Chapter 1

The Butterworth station of the Frontier Armed and Mounted Police was never intended to be a permanent establishment.

It was an outpost, stuck across the Kei River, in the heart of what they called Fingoland, to mediate and police the growing animosity between the mFengu and Gcaleka peoples.

That role became more critical in the decade of the 1870s, the decade leading up to the Ninth Frontier War, when it spilled over into a deadly conflict between two nations. And then it was highjacked and prolonged by the British High Commissioner, Sir Henry Bartle Frere, for his own ambitions to crush the Xhosa people. He callously saw it to be necessary as a precursor to forming a confederation of all states in southern Africa.

But in the winter of 1869, the station was more concerned with the plight of Abby, wife of Corporal Jake Allison, who was stuck in a small coastal village at the mouth of the Xora River because she had injured her back and could not travel, and subsequently gave birth to a boy child in that remote place.

Jake tried hard to carry out his duties with enthusiasm and efficiency but his wife, Abby, was at the centre of his universe and he was a different person without her at his side, or in their home close by where he knew she was safe and happily occupied. And he was consumed with worry for her condition and the upcoming birth.

Would their child be afflicted with the sins of the parents who dared to be man and wife against the laws of nature?

Jake’s station commander, Captain Alfonso von Blerk, did not know his secret, but knew his love for Abby, and found every opportunity to assign him investigations beyond the Bashee River, where he could readily include a visit to his father’s kraal.

And so it came about that Jake arrived at Xora Mouth three days after Abby had given birth to a boy.

It was Jimmy who first saw his son, Jake, and his companion and closest friend, the mFengu interpreter, Mbenya, as they appeared over the brow of the grassy knoll several hundred yards to the west.  He walked out to the oncoming horsemen, knowing the pleasure he was to give them with the news of the birth.

Hey, father, what news? Jake yelled out when still distant.

Jimmy just smiled and waited until he could see his son’s expression fully, and that was only when Jake reached him and he could hold the nose strap of his son’s horse.

You have a bonny son, Jake.

The smile on his son’s face was everything he could have wished for, and then the quick look of concern.

Is everything all right?

"Ja, everything is perfect. Ten fingers and toes, everything all there."

Oh boy!

He looked away with the embarrassment of the tears which sprang to his eyes. When he felt composed he dismounted and hugged his father.

Now we have three generations, father.

"Ja, son, ja we do."

Mbenya watched and marvelled again that these two men, father and son, had found each other after so many years and a search across three continents. He interrupted them.

We need to see baby now, Jake.

The three of them walked in contemplative companionship to the hut where mother and child lay and the two deferred to Jake and let him enter alone.

Abby sat on a stool, feeding the child.

Ah, Jake, my darling. Come and see what we have made.

The infant was reluctant to let go of his mother’s breast and when she gently eased him away, his mouth continued to purse, seeking her milk.

Jake knelt before them and peered into his son’s face, seeking the likeness which he could not immediately see. The boy had thin black strands of hair, wet with the sweat from the effort of feeding, despite the chill of winter in the hut. He saw only a very young baby, still unformed, yet he felt such love that his heart swelled and he was unable to speak.

Isn’t he beautiful?

He could only nod his agreement.

And he’s big. Look at him, quite the little man, and she laughed happily.

He tore his eyes from the child and looked at his wife and he could see the ordeal of the birth etched on her face.

Are you all right, Abby?

I’m absolutely fine, my husband, and so is our son. Not a thing is wrong with him, he’s perfect.

Oh boy!

*

Jake and Jimmy sat on the beach in companionable silence and watched the waves rolling in. Jake had released Mbenya so that he could visit his family at the mouth of the Kei River. They had arranged to meet back at the station in three days’ time.

Jake tore his eyes from the mesmeric monotony of the waves and studied his father’s deeply lined face.

What do you think when you look at the waves, father?

Why … nothing.

Jake waited. He had learnt there would be more.

"Them waves are like our lives, Jake. It’s a never-ending story, you see. Look at them out there beyond the breakers. They’re smooth and quite flat, then they come to the place where the beach starts to get shallow and that’s when they grow. Because it’s sloping, you see. It’s resisting them so they grow up and then they break and finally they die on the beach, just here, at our feet.

Isn’t that like our lives? The smooth part is the innocence of our youth. Then we face difficulties and we have to fight, lots of strife, just as the waves crash, full of noise and energy, and finally we are only the ghosts of our former selves and we fizzle out and sink into the sand of the beach.  Do you see that?

Jake loved to hear his father’s simple philosophy. It was not that different from his own world view.

Don’t you think we leave a footprint, father?

No, but maybe in our children. But when they die it’s finished.

But what if we write it down?

What’s that to me? It’s only what I can see or hear. Like now, your little boy is a part of you and me but when I pass he will only be a part of you.  Do you understand?

I understand you, father, but I’m not as sure as you. And there’s heaven, you know, if we’re good enough for God to want us there with Him.

His father did not respond. He would not be drawn into a religious discussion.

His father’s fatalistic conviction was still with him that night when he and Abby lay on the bedding in the hut, their son asleep between them.

Have you thought of a name, Abby?

I have but you’ll find it strange.

That was intriguing.

Tell me.

I had a dream about a church. It was like no church I’ve ever seen before. It wasn’t a very big church, not like the one we got married in. The strange part was that there was no tower. It looked like they had started it but then they did not finish.

Jake felt the ghosts in his chest.

Could it be that his wife’s mind could connect with his unconscious mind to see an image of the church in Macclesfield?

There was a church like that in Macclesfield, Abby.

She got excited.

That’s it then, Jake! That’s the sign. Don’t you see, we made a connection? Your thoughts inhabited my thoughts. So this is right. This is what we must call our son.

What. Church?

No, silly. Kirk. It means church. The name came to me as well. It’s probably an old name for a church, from the early English, Saxons, or whatever. Can we use this name, Jake? I’m sure it’s right.

He raised himself on to his elbow and gazed down at the face of his son.

Hello, Kirk.

*

Before Jake left, two days later, Abby wrote a letter to her parents telling them of the birth of their first grandchild. They composed it together, trying to walk the tight line necessary to disguise the identity of Jimmy Allison, and his relationship to Abby’s father, Richard Somerville. The worst scenario would be that Jimmy and Richard would meet each other, and so the letter explained that Abby and her son were safe and well and would be returning to Butterworth in a few months, and inviting her parents to visit them in late October.

Jake sent it via the post bag that went twice a week from the trading store in Butterworth. It was his first task after returning to the town.

Their wish to keep Jimmy Allison and Richard Somerville from knowing the relationship they had with each other, was never going to be realised.

Chapter 2

Jake spent the week after returning from Xora Mouth at the station in Butterworth, prosecuting previous cases before the magistrate, and, in the first few days, enjoying boisterous celebrations with his fellow policemen.

It was an easy and joyous time, but it all changed on the Tuesday afternoon.

The news that Richard Somerville had arrived in Butterworth reached him in the stores where he was gathering his kit for a planned patrol north towards the mountains the next day.

As usual it was Mbenya, always with his ear to the ground.

Abby’s father, he here, Jake.

Oh, shit, no!

Why you say this? I thought you like him.

The outburst had been unintentional. He would have to be careful – Mbenya was also not privy to their secret. It was another difficulty he would have to factor in, and the shock at hearing his father-in-law was in town had already got his mind racing, trying to work out why he was there and how he could stop him going to Xora Mouth.

Where is he?

He with the captain.  They ask me to tell you to come there with them.

Okay, and he made to leave the storeroom.

You not answer me, Jake. Why you get fright?

It was just unexpected, that’s all.

His mFengu friend shook his head, and used an expression that was not translatable.

"Heyah! Sometimes you not trust Mbenya?"

Jake slowed himself down. He could not alienate Mbenya, his closest male friend who had been his best man at his wedding to Abby in King Williams Town.

He turned back into the room and laid his hand on Mbenya’s shoulder.

You’re right, my friend, there is a problem. But it’s not just my right to tell you about it now. It would be breaking an oath with my wife. Can you understand that?

Mbenya’s eyes searched him and it seemed he found the answer he wanted.

"Yebo, Jake. You tell me when time is right."

*

Von Blerk’s office was about the most utilitarian on the base. No-one really understood why he had left the clergy to become a policeman, and his profanity and short temper meant most who knew his previous profession could scarcely credit it.

The small room had a desk, a small bureau of a stylish design that was totally out of place, the only heirloom perhaps of the past, and three chairs, all of them of a different and cheap design. The captain sat behind his desk and facing him was Richard Somerville, Jake’s father-in-law, a large handsome man who had kept himself in reasonable shape by remaining active on his farm near King Williams Town.

Somerville rose to his feet and embraced Jake.

Jake, my boy, congratulations!  And how are Abby and the baby and when last did you see them? Has he got a name yet?

Jake could not help grinning at the enthusiasm of the older man, his worry about keeping from him the secret at Xora temporarily forgotten.

You’re not half excited, Richard! Hasn’t the captain filled you in?

No, quiet as a mouse on the subject. Says you must have the pleasure.

Jake looked at his commanding officer and saw he was also enjoying the encounter. Von Blerk and his wife, Salina, were among Abby’s many admirers and they too took an almost proprietary interest in the birth of Jake and Abby’s child.

They’re all fine, Richard. The baby was born just over two weeks ago and he is healthy, and so is Abby. I was there three days after the birth and both had recovered very well.

And what’s his name?

Well, it’s an unusual name, one that came to Abby in a dream, but I like it. It’s Kirk, the old English name for a church.

Yes, that is unusual. Well, you and I are going to see Kirk and Abby tomorrow.

Jake’s mind went into denial mode.

We can’t do that. I’ve got a patrol tomorrow.

"Your captain says he will find someone else to do the patrol. He is happy to let you take me down to the coast.’

Jake looked at Von Blerk, desperately trying to convey a message to him, but without the older man knowing his predicament, that was impossible.

I don’t see why Mbenya can’t take your patrol, Jake, it’s just a routine sweep, said Von Blerk.

There did not seem to be any way out, and Jake started to think of the implications of an encounter between his father and Richard Somerville, and the burden of guilt it would reawaken in both Abby and his father, Jimmy.

What’s wrong, Jake?

The question came from Alfonso von Blerk who knew Jake better than his father-in-law did.

Jake did not answer the question but instead asked one of his own.

Who are you travelling with, Richard? Did Harriet come with you?

No, she’s not well and felt she could not travel at the moment. I’ve got two of my farm workers with me, doing the camp work and such, you know the score.

You can’t bring them.

Richard looked at him, askance, now also realising something was wrong.

Jake knew he had lost any subtlety he might have normally used to minimise the difficulty facing him, and he nearly told the two of them the whole story, but that was unnecessary. Von Blerk did not have to know, but already he knew that his father-in-law would have to.

We don’t need them, and the village tribesmen down there don’t like foreign natives coming into their kraals. Rather just leave them here, Richard, we really don’t need them.

Well, okay, if that’s what you want.

The conversation turned at that point to more mundane details of the journey the two would make the following day and eventually Richard and Jake made to leave the office.

Jake, stay behind, will you. I’d like to discuss something with you, said Von Blerk.

When Somerville had left the room the older man gestured to a chair.

Sit down, Jake, and tell me what the fuck’s going on. I’ve never seen you in such a panic.

Jake trusted his commander implicitly, would trust him with his life, even his wife’s life, but the secret was not his to tell; there were others who would also be compromised: his wife and father, and perhaps in time Jimmy’s wife, Buyiswa, and their son, Kirk. The threat of exposure and society’s censure was growing.

Here were two friends, Alfonso von Blerk and Mbenya, and he could not tell them the secret until the other parties had sanctioned it.

He kept his reply as honest as he could.

I can’t tell you, captain. Others are involved. Perhaps when Abby and the baby return here in a few months’ time she will tell Salina. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you more.

There’s not something wrong with the baby that you’re not telling us, is there?

It’s not that, captain. Please just leave it.

*

They left early, with the mist cold on their exposed faces and hands. Jake led, trailing a pack horse with Richard further back, and he took the new inland route to Xora, travelling north-east along the hills, crossing the rivers many miles from the coast, where they were still in their infancy, even the Bashee, before turning towards the coast, picking up the west bank of the Xora and following it, skirting the many small kraals, until they arrived on the hills where they could see the mouth and the sea beyond, all grey beneath an overcast winter sky.

The moment of reckoning had arrived.

There had been many opportunities to tell Richard, the best when they stopped for a midday meal, but he had been unable to do so, and now he had to.

His father-in-law had come up alongside him.

So this is the place. Looks a little forlorn.

The observation was true. On such a grey day the vivid blues and yellows of sea and sand were muted, monochromatic, and lacking the cheerfulness of a summer day.

Before we go down there I have something to tell you, Richard.

The older man looked sharply at him.

So this is it, the story you could not tell me in Von Blerk’s office. It’s the boy, isn’t it?

No, Richard it’s not the boy, nor the mother.

He paused and this time Richard waited, a little nervous at the drama Jake was making of the moment.

"We learnt something, Abby and I, when we came here searching for my father. What we learnt has the potential to dramatically change our lives, but we decided we would not let it do that, and part of our defence is that we decided to tell no-one. We thought we could hide it, but we can’t because now I have to tell you.

"My father is down there, Richard. This is where we found him four months ago. He lives as a recluse and has taken as his wife a wonderful Gcaleka woman. Her name is Buyiswa and she is the midwife who brought our child into the world.

He calls himself Patrick O’Mara but his name is Jimmy Allison. You would know him as Jimmy Belmont, Richard. He is your oldest brother.

At first it seemed Somerville had not taken it in. He stared with horror at Jake, and finally found his voice.

Oh, my God!

Yes.

And the two of you didn’t know? You could never have known.

That’s right.

Oh my God!

Jake watched the changing expressions on the older man’s face, knowing the gamut of emotions that would be assailing him, knew because they, too, had faced this uncomfortable reality.

Eventually Richard calmed.

What are you going to do, Jake?

Nothing. We are man and wife and will remain so. There is no law against our union, although many will frown upon it, and for that reason we want to keep it a secret. We now have a son, and thanks to the grace of God he seems to be fine.

Is this Abby’s point of view as well?

Yes.

Very well. I can only pray that this does not affect your relationship with each other, because it is very special. Harriet and I both agree that you and Abby have a depth of love that is rare, and precious.

"Thank you. Now, Richard, let’s talk about what must happen. You should stay here while I go down there and prepare Abby and my father. When that is done I will wave for you to come down.

"My father has had a very difficult life, Richard. For most of that life he has been alone. When he came back to this country he avoided you and his other brothers and sisters, ashamed of his lowly standing, his lack of progress. That’s why he adopted a new name, not even using the name Allison, in case one of you recognised it.

"He has now attained some measure of pride in this little village of which he is the chief, and in his marriage with Buyiswa.

Don’t take that away from him, Richard. Don’t offer to rescue him, or lend him money. Leave him with the little dignity he has found here.

I think I understand that.

Good. And please understand also that no-one can know about this, unless with the agreement of Abby and my father. We can talk about whether Harriet has the right to know, and Abby will be the one to decide that. Can you agree to that?

Yes, that is fair. Now go, Jake, I have a great desire to see my grandson and my long-lost brother. You know, of course, that I would not be alive today if it had not been for the courage and determination of Jimmy. Has he told you what happened that Christmas Day in Salem?

Yes, I know that story, and it’s good that you remember it. Let it guide you when you see him now.

Chapter 3

Jimmy Allison was frantic with uncertainty and embarrassment that his brother, Richard, whom he had not seen for over 30 years, was less than half a mile away, waiting for an invitation to come into the village.

I can’t do it, Jake. I just can’t. What will he think of me? Look at me, living like a native. And what is he, a wealthy farmer? He’s got a standing in King. I saw him there, watched him come into the town. So many greeted him and I could see he was a man admired. What does he want with a bum like me?

Perhaps to thank you for saving his life, father. He wouldn’t be here, but for you.

"Ag, bull. That was a million years ago."

Abby decided to intervene, to lend her support to her husband. She had not been at all concerned that her father had come to visit, quite the opposite.  She was delighted that he had made the effort to come all the way from King Williams Town. And she had always known that her parents would have to be told, and had been deferring to Jake’s fear of censure.

Jimmy, she said.

Yes, my darling.

Jake had never heard him utter an endearment. Obviously Abby and his father had become close in the months she had been at Xora Mouth.

He’s my father and I know him very well. One of his biggest regrets was that he lost touch with you. The others all keep in contact, but you were the leader and they always express their regret that you went to England. He will be delighted to meet you again. Right now I’m willing to bet he’s excited, sitting up there on that hill all by himself.

Yes, but what will he see when he gets here? I’m not the Jimmy he remembers, Abby. Just look at me.

I am, and I see the man I’ve come to admire for his courage, and the leadership he shows in this village and the love he has for me and Kirk, and for his wife, my best friend.

Jimmy closed his eyes and kept silent, and then he muttered something they could not hear.

What was that, Jimmy? Abby asked.

Um, I can’t see him now. I’m sorry. I’m going to go down the beach for a while. You mustn’t worry if I don’t come back tonight. I just need to think about it. To get myself ready.

Jake was feeling remorse at bringing his father such anxiety.

I’ll come with you, father.

No. No, my son. I’ll not be able to think if you’re with me.

He went into his hut and fetched a blanket and the old overcoat he wore at night in the winter and then he left the village, heading away from them without uttering another word, and they could think of no way to help him.

Just what he did when I first saw him. You remember, Abby?

Like it was yesterday. Will he be all right?

I don’t know. There’s no physical danger, but as to his state of mind, I just don’t know. There’s nothing more we can do right now. I’m going to signal to your father to come on down.

*

Richard Somerville was so enamoured with his first grandchild that he did not give much thought to his brother until later in the day.

He held Kirk awkwardly and was smitten with the love of kinship, as the child’s black eyes gazed up at him and then moved elsewhere, looking beyond and back, and the mouth worked itself into a myriad of expressions from half-smile to grimace to a pursing of the lips, as if of wonderment.

After spending more than an hour with his daughter and grandson, Richard asked if he could meet his brother’s wife. The thought of his brother having a Gcaleka wife was so foreign to white thinking that he had to steel himself to not show his racial prejudice.

Jake took him to meet Buyiswa. She was waiting at the small community’s meeting place, the shade of a tree on the outskirts of the kraal, the seating a ring of stones.

Buyiswa, too, had misgivings about the meeting. She had more to lose: the possibility that this brother would lure her and her husband back into white society where she would lose her identity, and an expectation that he would have an attitude of racial superiority that would diminish her. She also did not want this white man to harm her husband’s already fragile self-belief, remembering how Jimmy had come to be at peace with himself after the years when they had first been married, and he had been fearful and without hope.

Buyiswa, this is Abby’s father, Richard Somerville, were Jake’s only words before he left them alone.

She invited him to sit beside her, her slim arm moving in a gracious gesture to make the invitation.  They were both a little tongue-tied, unsure of themselves.

Buyiswa spoke first.

How do you like your grandchild, sir?

Her accent was almost faultless, the tone melodious, and only the salutation an indication of her station, and perhaps her nervousness.

The deferential word also jarred on Richard, who saw before him a woman of considerable presence, serene and with an inner beauty and poise, and he could see why this woman was his brother’s wife and his daughter’s best friend.

Please don’t call me ‘sir’. And my grandson, well, yes, isn’t he splendid?

She smiled at his enthusiasm, and was emboldened to ask.

Well, how should I address you?

Please call me Richard. You are my brother’s wife. Have you been told the story of how my brother and I lost each other?

"Ja, Abby told me. I’m sorry our people made war against each other. It was a bad time."

Well, I think it still is, Buyiswa. But come now, tell me of Jimmy.

You will find out for yourself. He is just Jimmy to me. But I must ask you to have a thought for him before you judge.

Must I judge?

No, I would hope not. But your life has taken a different path, and I wish you to think about the many difficult roads that Jimmy has walked. He has little in this life, only me and the people of this small village, and now, in the last months his son has come back and with him this wonderful daughter of yours and now, even more, a grandson.

It was a long speech and she was silent after delivering it.

Richard looked at her profile, the chin held high and the graceful neck and he began to understand, and he wanted to know her, no less than he would want to know a handsome white woman of interest to family.

Jake told me a little of your story, Buyiswa, how you were married to a son of Chief Kreli, and how he returned you to your father because you were unable to have a child. I’m sorry this happened to you.

Oh no, you must not think so. I have so much more now – a husband who cares for me and protects me, and a new family now that Jake and Abby have come into our lives.

And you brought my grandson into the world.

Yes, that too is a gift I have been given.

He changed the topic.

Will Jimmy come back today?

I think not. He saw you before, in King. He was watching. You did not know he was there. He saw your success and was ashamed that he had done so little with his life. He will come back because he loves Abby, but perhaps not today.

*

When the light of day started to fade Richard decided to search for his brother.

Why? asked Jake.

I think I should meet him on his own turf. This is his country. I’m the alien here. Don’t you think that will make it easier for him?

Yes, I do.

Jake thought he knew where his father might have decided to spend the night.

There is a small river estuary about two miles down the coast. There are high banks and it will be sheltered in there. But it’s going to be a cold night, Richard. You should go prepared.

*

It was nearly fully dark when Richard reached the river mouth Jake had spoken about and he turned and started upstream. The white sand on the river bank, exposed by the low tide, was easily visible, even in the low light, and made for easy walking. Richard turned a corner and saw the flickering of a fire, not fifty yards ahead.

He had been heard, and was challenged to identify himself.

"Ngubani oya apho?"

Even in the Xhosa language used, which Richard understood, he could hear the strain in his brother’s voice.

It is I, Jimmy, Richard, your brother.

Oh, hell, no! You came to find me?

Yes, can I come to the fire?

There was no word for a long time, and then a quiet reply.

"Ja, come."

Daylight was fading fast but with the added illumination from the fire Richard saw his brother stand and wait on his approach. He saw a tall man, bulky in the overcoat he wore, and could make out the bearded face and long hair but only when he was very close could he see the mobility in his brother’s facial features, an obvious sign of tension.

This was a man Richard had not seen for nearly thirty-five years. They had speculated often, the Belmont siblings, as to the whereabouts and fortunes of the brother who had saved them in 1835, when the village of Salem was sacked and their parents killed. They had all been adopted by different families, but had remained in touch, all except Jimmy, who had been adopted by the Allisons and taken to live with them in England.

Now this brother of their speculation was before him, and Richard gave not a jot for his brother’s circumstances and apparent lack of progress, nor for his nervousness at being found in the wild place where he had hidden himself.

Richard walked right up to Jimmy and hugged him, quite emotional.

God, this is amazing, my long-lost brother!

Jimmy did not answer but he slowly responded by also placing his arms around his younger brother, although the movement was tentative.

Richard held him tight, his strength reflecting all of his longing at the missing years. They were two strangers, and the coarseness of the cloth of Jimmy’s overcoat, and the smell of wood smoke on his clothing made the strangeness even more acute, but Richard held on until he felt the shaking of his brother’s body and realised that he was sobbing.

Oh no, Jimmy, please stop, this is a most wonderful day, and he pushed his brother’s body away until he could gaze into his face and see the raw emotion and the tears.

*

It was many hours later and still the talking continued.

Once Jimmy was assured of the genuine interest and concern of his brother he was able to open up and talk of his life, with less shyness than he had displayed when he had first met his son, Jake, just a half year earlier. He had harboured tremendous guilt that he had abandoned his son as a very young child, left him in the care of his adopted parents, and that guilt had been a stumbling block initially.

What a hard life you’ve led, Jimmy.

No, you must not see it that way. You must not make comparisons with others. This has been my life and it has ended well, with Buyiswa and now my new family. I’m contented.

You’ll stay here?

"Ja, this is my place. Tell me of my brothers and sisters, Richard, and of Enoch. Do you know what happened to him?"

Enoch the Fingo boy who was your friend?

"Ja. I went to Salem once, to look for him but I found nothing. Salem scared me and I did not even stay a night."

Richard kept encountering this fear in his brother and knew that he had been unable to recover from the trauma of their early childhood experiences. There was also the story that was talked about of the cattle raid on Ridge Farm in which Jimmy had been required to shoot at horses and cattle raiders and they heard that he had killed a man. Jimmy had not told them the story but the men who joined the commando had talked freely about it.

To answer your question, no, Jimmy, nothing about Enoch. Did you hear about baby Jane?

No.

She died I’m afraid. Just after you left the country. I think she never recovered from that journey from Salem. Remember how she was so sick and then Mrs Nourse took her in and they eventually adopted her? I think she must have been weakened from the dehydration and she was never strong. She died maybe a year after you left, and they never knew the reason.

I’m sorry, especially for Mrs Nourse. I remember how she had lost her own baby and that’s why she took in Jane. I also remember her kindness in feeding us and letting us bathe at her house when we were staying in the church in Grahams Town during the war. The poor woman. Did she and her husband have another child?

"I don’t know. They left and went back to England. I think it was the loss of the two children that they associated with the frontier and it soured them to the country.

And as for your other brothers and sisters, they all married and they’re all still living on the frontier, either in Albany or British Kaffraria. Most of them are pretty happily married, I’m glad to say, except our oldest sister Liz, who has an idiot for a husband and won’t get rid of him.

"Ja, I heard that. I heard about all of you, but you were the only one I saw, one day in King. You never saw me."

That’s rather strange, that my long-lost brother was in King and I never knew about it. So, back to our family. Nearly all of us have good marriages and the net result is that Jake has many cousins that he does not even know.

We can’t talk about that.

Jimmy’s reply had been sharp.

I don’t know how we’ll keep it from them.

We have to. Don’t you see the stigma that will be attached to them and to baby, Kirk? No, no-one can know.

Not even my wife, Harriet, Abby’s mother?

That is not your choice, Richard. Only Abby can decide that. You have to ask her, and perhaps she will want that. But none of us has the right to talk of this thing. Only Jake and Abby.

In a way, at that moment, and on that subject, Jimmy had again assumed the role of the older brother.

Chapter 4

Jake and Abby and their boy Kirk had three happy and fulfilling years before their troubles started.

In October 1869, with Kirk three months old, mother and son moved back to the cottage they had been renting on the outskirts of Butterworth. Jake had stayed at the cottage