75 Proud Years: Pioneers and Progress of Rhodesia

Posted by DanielS on Tuesday, 16 May 2017 02:51.

Please advertise this book if you can - Jez

75 Proud Years:  Pioneers and Progress of Rhodesia

As someone with an interest in Rhodesia, we thought you might like to know that we now have a reprint of this 1965 Rhodesian Government publication :

With an introduction by Ian Smith , the book covers the history of Rhodesia from 1890 to 1965 in some detail and surveys the enormous progress made in agriculture, commerce, industry and social development of benefit to both white and black Rhodesians.

With 124 pages, this A4-size softcover book is a facsimile copy of the original with contemporary advertisements and would be an invaluable addition to any collection of Rhodesiana .

The book costs £12.50 and p&p is £2.90 (with a 10% discount to former customers) .

To order a copy please contact us at :

.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) for payment details and other information .



Comments:


1

Posted by The Rise of Rhodesia on Wed, 17 May 2017 12:55 | #

       
        National Vanguard, “The Rise of Rhodesia”, 15 May 2017:

Douglas Reed here describes the origin of White Rhodesia, a little-known story which nicely illustrates innate White exploration and nation-building tendencies, as well as where the colonists went wrong — e.g., inadvertently increasing the size of the Black population. - Andrew Hamilton

The Rise of Rhodesia - by Douglas Reed

Editor’s note: In order to understand where we are and where we must go it is necessary to understand where we have been — completely liberated from the chart forgers who mislead us. Good guides through the labyrinth of lies include the books of English author Douglas Reed, former Chief Central European Correspondent for the London Times. Not a White racialist, he was nevertheless a representative of that always-rare, now extinct species (surviving only as an oxymoron): an honest journalist. Disgusted with both the “Leftist West” and the “Communist East” — two sides of the same evil coin — he settled in South Africa after the war. His magnum opus, written between 1951 and 1954 but published posthumously, is The Controversy of Zion (Durban, South Africa: Dolphin Press, 1978). Its 300,000 words set forth Reed’s mature view of the role of Jews and the Left in the destruction of the West and the establishment of a global dictatorship. In addition to other valuable works, Reed wrote three books about southern Africa prior to its destruction: Somewhere South of Suez (London: Jonathan Cape, 1950), The Battle for Rhodesia (Cape Town, South Africa: HAUM, 1966), and The Siege of Southern Africa (Johannesburg, South Africa: Macmillan, 1974). Reed died in South Africa at age 81 in 1976. Following is an excerpt from The Battle for Rhodesia.

It is simple enough, a mathematical calculation. Rhodesia means you, from Whitehall to Washington, Wisconsin to Worcestershire, Wigan to Wilmington and Winnipeg, and you cannot escape it. Rhodesia is no distant, isolated African episode: it reaches into your very home, however far away you be. - Douglas Reed

IN 1890 the American frontier halted. The last Indian hunting-grounds were overrun and the Redskins (in Canada too) left in enclaves similar to South Africa’s “Bantustans” of today, (save that these are to become self-governing states).

In Africa the moving frontier went on moving. In both places the pattern was the same: the horsedrawn covered wagons and the oxen-drawn trek wagons formed laagers when the attack came: Custer’s Last Stand of 1878 and Major Alan Wilson’s last stand of 1893 alike left no white man alive. Destiny was “manifest” in each case and “pioneer” was a brave name.

It was an old name, too, for pioneering began four hundred years earlier, when Bartholomew Diaz reached and Vasco da Gama rounded the Cape. The seas were uncharted and their seamen feared to fall off the edge of the world. Da Gama’s feat of seamanship in reaching and planting the Cross on Natal’s shore on Christmas Day 1498 (hence “Natal”, for the Nativity) in his wooden cockleshell was great, for these are treacherous waters where even in the 1960s big steel vessels such as the Aimèe Lykes, may strike the shoals. Then in 1652 Jan van Riebeeck was left at the Cape to store water and grow vegetables for Dutch ships eastward bound, and out of this market-garden sprang a new nation, Afrikanerdom, now a growing moral force in the world.

In 1776 the American colonists proclaimed their independence of government from three thousand miles away. The word “colonialism” then meant this mismanagement by remote control: today the word has been turned upside down and is used as a reproach against government-on-the-spot.

The Boers followed the American example when the Dutch ceded the Cape to England in 1806. They too, could not endure the distant hand and proclaimed UDI [Unilateral Declaration of Independence — a declaration of independence by a dependent state without the assent of the protecting state] in their own way: they inspanned their wagons, trekked over the northward mountains and across the Orange and Vaal, and set up their own republics. Therewith the moving frontier moved far inland and with the Portuguese settlements on the western and eastern coasts [Angola and Mozambique], Southern Africa became the white man’s settled domain.

       
Rhodesia goes it alone, November 11, 1965. It was the first unilateral break from the United Kingdom by one of its colonies since the US Declaration of Independence two centuries earlier. But White nationalism is the only nationalism the world’s rulers refuse to countenance. The United Nations and its constituent members, the British Commonwealth, and Great Britain declared independence illegal and imposed harsh sanctions to crush the new regime. State-sponsored terrorism by Black Communists was instigated, armed, and funded by these forces, and White Rhodesia remained an embattled, “unrecognized state” until capitulating to the Blacks who set up the current racial dictatorship a decade later.

Remained the unknown middle part of Africa, a dark enigma, and soon the moving frontier moved thither. Into that unknown land, in the 1840s and later, came first the missionaries, led by those great Scotsmen Robert Moffat, his son-in-law David Livingstone, John Moffat, James Stewart and others. The world hailed them, too, as Christian pioneers, and America shared the sense of pride when the Britisher, Henry Morton Stanley (late of the U.S. Navy), sent by Gordon Bennett and the New York Herald to search for Livingstone, found him in 1871.

Even today Central Africa is a formidable place and the dangers these men endured, though different, were not less than those braved by those later pioneers, the astronauts of today. Slave raids and inter-tribal wars, wild beasts and reptiles, malaria, dysentery, blackwater fever, yaws, Little Irons: all these made for nightmare journeys and the men who achieved them were held in the awe that is the due of Spacemen now.

The world they left behind was solidly with them, for their great purpose was to root out slavery, which the warrior tribes and the Arab slave-traders together practised. They were the banner-bearers of Christian civilization in Central Africa, and all Europe and America, in that Victorian heyday, shared this belief. So did the “settlers” who followed.

From the day when Livingstone, seeking the source of the Nile, discovered the Thundering Smoke (Victoria Falls) and went on to explore the Zambezi River, the frontier began to move northward again, into what is today Rhodesia. Its original peoples, the Bushmen and Hottentots, had been exterminated by warrior tribes and the area now was held by later comers, the newly-arrived Matabele in the west and the Mashona in the east. The Matabele, under King Moselikatze, some decades earlier split off and fled from the Zulus of Natal, under the terrible Chaka. They were warriors and scorned the Mashona “dogs”. (After seventy years of the white man’s peace this feud still simmers and would at once burst out if one-man-one-vote were imposed here, for the Mashona are far more numerous than the Matabele, who would not submit to this “majority rule”: for this reason both groups want the white man’s protection to continue).

Into this dangerous scene stepped a clergyman’s son from England, Cecil Rhodes, who by 1878 gained control of the Kimberley diamond industry. His vision went beyond money and a diamond empire. His conviction was that the white man was best fitted to open up Central Africa, the dark enigma. Like Livingstone, he believed that white enterprise alone could save the continent from poverty, slavery and disease and that British rule would be a blessing for its peoples. Britain, he held, could not afford to stand aloof: without her overseas possessions the little kingdom would be but an overcrowded, insignificant island in northern European waters. Today his belief is receiving its ultimate test (and you, dear insular reader, will see the answer).

Rhodes looked northward, wondering if another gold and diamond empire might lie in the land that now bears his name. In 1888 John Moffat obtained from King Lobengula, Moselikatze’s successor, the concession of “all metals and minerals” in the Matabele Kingdom for Rhodes and his “British South Africa Company”. In 1889 Queen Victoria signed the Charter empowering the Company, in effect, to govern the territory.

Next came the task of moving the frontier across the territory thus assigned, where were only a tiny handful of white men, isolated among Lobengula and his redoubtable impis and the Mashona. Rhodes formed the Pioneer Corps of some 200 picked men, accompanied by 500 British South Africa Company police. [The British South Africa police have retained the name and still keep order in Rhodesia today. This is an élite force with a magnificent tradition, comparable with the Mounties of Canada and the Texas Rangers.] This column succeeded in by-passing the hostile Matabele and on September 12, 1890 reached the spot which they called Fort Salisbury: the beleaguered Salisbury of today.

With that the moving frontier halted and the white man established himself in the land. The Pioneers (“duke’s son, cook’s son …”) dispersed and were given mining claims and farms. Among them was an American, William Harvey Brown. He called his farm Arlington (after Arlington, D.C.) and travellers landing at Salisbury Airport today alight on its site.

The white man was in Rhodesia but three wars had to be fought before he was secure. King Lobengula had agreed that he might mine for gold, but the Matabele warriors did not agree that they must cease from enslaving the Mashona, who in turn deduced that the white man was too weak to protect them and refused labour for his mines and farms. In 1893 Mashona were massacred near Fort Victoria and when the Matabele king refused to give up his claim to the Mashona raiding grounds, war began. Lobengula burned his capital and fled. Major Alan Wilson with a small force tried to capture Lobengula in his kraal and failed: all were wiped out. Lobengula escaped and died, possibly by suicide, Matabele resistance collapsed, and in later time a great city, Bulawayo, rose on the site of Lobengula’s kraal.

After that the number of settlers quickly increased, but in 1895 the collapse of Dr. Jameson’s raid into the Transvaal, which dimmed Rhodes’s prestige, and the consequent absence of white troops from Matabeleland, again persuaded the Matabele that the white man could be crushed: he was weak! They rose in 1896 in the usual manner: 130 unsuspecting white men and their families were shot, stoned, bludgeoned or speared. A force of 2,000 white and 600 black troops was raised to put down this rising but (as in the later South African war) an elusive enemy, fighting on his home ground of precipitous kopjes, rocks, boulders and caves, proved hard to find and fight.

Then the Mashona, of whom the white folk had adopted the Matabele’s opinion, surprised all by rising too. They also thought the white man was weak, that the Matabele would win, and that they, the Mashona, would pay the price if they did not help crush the white man. Their rising followed the Matabele pattern: servants thought faithful suddenly turned and did women and children to death, murdered prospectors in their camps, miners in their shafts, storekeepers behind their counters. (In the 1960s this pattern was often repeated, in Kenya, the Congo and other newly “independent” places: the old ways reappeared).

The Mashona were subdued in 1897. In the meantime Rhodes performed his legendary exploit of pacifying the fierce Matabele. With a small, unprotected party, including two women, he met the Matabele chiefs and induced them to lay down their arms. They gave him the name “Lamula ‘mkunzi”, “Separator of the Fighting Bulls”, for this, his greatest triumph. This, the start of seventy years of peace, is today a memory as vivid and significant in the Matabele and Mashona mind as that of Magna Charta or Independence in the British and American one. For them, a new life began that day.

(Seventy years later, a Mr. Arthur Bottomley [Britain’s Left-wing Minister of Overseas Development under the anti-White Labour Prime Minister Harold Wilson] from Walthamstow met the Matabele and Mashona chiefs, to whom Rhodes and his achievement were a living memory, as they repeatedly told him. He could not at all grasp the significance of the episode: they found him unintelligible; and although the African chief is a model of courtesy in such debates, one of them in despair was moved to say, “If I had my own way we would walk out of this meeting and leave Mr. Bottomley here alone”. Kipling was right: when two strong men stand face to face they can understand each other, no matter what their skin or language. Between such as Mr. Bottomley and these tribal leaders no communion of minds was possible. Across the great gulf fixed between them, the chiefs looked and saw the living emblem of the white man’s weakness, to them the fault beyond forgiving).

The two rebellions cost the whites about one-tenth of their numbers in casualties, a percentage, I believe, never otherwise known in war. The white folk never faltered or thought of quitting. They stayed and (as Mr. L.H. Gann says [in his History of Southern Rhodesia, Chatto & Windus, 1965]) “Their will to rule remained unbroken. They felt that history was on their side, that Europe stood behind them, and that they formed the vanguard of civilization in Darkest Africa … The whites in Rhodesia never experienced that clammy sense of moral and political isolation, which weighed down their successors two generations later”.

That means today. If “history” is that which is manufactured in our time by machines that reach the ear, eye and mind of millions, then it is against the whites. But they still believe what their grandparents believed. When a British Minister told Rhodesian representatives. “We have lost the will to govern”, one of them told him “But we have not”. In Rhodesia, and in South Africa, the white man’s will still “remains unbroken” for a’ that, no matter what may happen in Rhodes’s overcrowded little island in the North Sea or elsewhere. [A too-optimistic assessment, as we now know. I was reading such statements about South Africans by otherwise right-thinking Whites as late as the late 1980s! One must be coldly realistic to survive against the enemies we face.]

The moving frontier halted at last, in 1897, seven years after the American one stopped. Followed seventy years during which no black man needed fear the slave-raiders or the outcry of enemy tribes in the night, around his huts. There was peace in the land.

Today the attempt is to destroy all that thus was gained.

In following years the territory encompassed by the moving frontier was divided into three parts: Southern and Northern Rhodesia (effectively governed by the Company) and Nyasaland (governed directly from London). Between 1900 and 1910 slavery and tribal wars were stamped out in all.

Southern Rhodesia (today’s Rhodesia), the area of the original conquest, was a case by itself. Its white population was greater and its development quicker: the African bushveld began to blossom like the rose; and the settlers grew restive under the hand of a board of directors in London, as the American colonists, earlier, under that of King George. As the date for the renewal of the Company’s charter from the Queen approached, their demand for self- government swelled. In 1922 the voters were offered, by referendum, self-government or (at Mr. Winston Churchill’s suggestion) union with South Africa. Much talk of a republic was heard from South Africa and the Rhodesians, intensely loyal to The Crown, chose Responsible Government, which London granted in 1923.

Rhodes was dead, but his work flourished. From that day, 43 years ago, Rhodesia has governed itself, London retaining only some control over laws affecting the tribal population and safeguarding them against any discriminatory disabilities. The successive Constitutions have contained no racial discrimination. The qualification for the vote requires moderate amounts in cash, property or income.

In practice the black community votes little, for reasons which lengthy residence among them alone can make clear. Most of them find “voting” unintelligible: their immemorial tradition is against “choosing” and for decisions reached in pyramidal tribal conclave, of villagers, village elders, district headmen and chiefs. The notion that “the children”, at the bottom level, should challenge tribal authority and unanimity is as Chinese to them. They believe that the tribe’s spirits, or ancestors, consulted through the chief’s medium, or oracle, ultimately decide the tribe’s weal or woe.

For example: in one tribe a child was sacrificed, at the spirit’s bidding, to the rain-god. The Chief was imprisoned for eighteen months and on the day of his release rain fell. The tribespeople drew the obvious conclusion (incidentally, their beliefs are respected by white folk who live among them). . . .

Gradualism produced results, in the form of increasing African participation in Parliament and all walks of life. However, gradualism, though the best expedient now and for the near future, is not a solution. The solution, as I will later show, lies elsewhere.

In thirty years of self-government, 1923-1953, Rhodesia strode ahead as if on seven-league boots. The astonishing thing is how much was done in how short a time. That impressed me in South Africa, too, but South Africa has a white population of some millions and has had three centuries to build. Rhodesia has a white population of about a quarter-million and has had but seventy years.

At the start the land was scrub, constantly impoverished by the tribal method of farming and by erosion. The lifegiving waters drained away into the Indian Ocean. Disease, tribal raids and wild beasts ravaged the people and the land. It was still, as James Stewart found it in the 1860s, “a lonely land of barbarism, of wild beasts, of timid and harried but not unkindly men, harassed by never-ending slave raids and inter-tribal wars”.

Today water conservation in Rhodesia is a model for the world. The lethal diseases, killing and slavery have been stamped down and almost out. The white farming areas show crops, the equal of those in the Mid West or anywhere in the world. The tribes occupy more than half the land, but the contribution of this to the economy is insignificant because the tribesman clings to his immemorial custom of growing just enough to eat, grazing the land bare, and when it is denuded, breaking up his huts and moving elsewhither, there to repeat the process.

The allegation is often heard that the tribes “only get the poorest land”. The matter may be checked, by any who care, at the great Triangle sugarlands in the Rhodesian lowveld. This land was raw scrub in 1912 and little that looked less promising could have been found when another indomitable Scotsman, Tom MacDougall, saw it then. The First War delayed him but in 1919 he began with his hands to clear a patch or two. A secondhand mill, bought in Natal, needed two years to reach him, by lorry and ox-wagon, from the border at Beit Bridge. By 1935 he produced ten tons of sugar. Today, when big concerns have taken over, twenty thousand acres are under sugar and the endless crops gladden the eye of man.

The land problem may be studied at the Domboshawa Training Centre, near Salisbury, where men from the tribal districts receive instruction in local self-government. It was formerly an agricultural training centre and still has a farm, where fine crops grow. On the side of its fence is tribal land, bare and denuded, where, one might say, nothing would grow. The land on either side of the fence is the same: only the method is different.

The white man’s achievement may be studied, for example, in little Umtali, which reminded me of a mountain village in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It has 9,000 white and 35,000 black people, and the white ones provide nine-tenths of its revenue. Over the years this small place has built some six thousand houses for the African community and (from beer-hall proceeds) a stadium for the black folk costing £75,000, a swimming pool, picture-theatre, infant schools and crèches and much more. I doubt whether an English or American town of comparable size could equal this achievement.

Rhodesia’s growth was always fast but the great acceleration came after the Second War, in 1945. The next twenty years brought probably the most rapid development the world has ever seen. Still building on the tradition of sound administration and probity in public affairs which it thought to be its rocklike heritage from England, the country flourished exceedingly, managing its own affairs and spending nobody’s money but its own.

Within Rhodesia the people, white and black, grew in beauty, as one might say, side by side. The emphasis is on side by side, as distinct from together, and here lies the difference between the temporary expedient, gradualism, and the ultimate solution, separateness.

Before Responsible Government was granted in 1923 the Rhodesian delegates in London raised the question of territorial segregation and Mr. Winston Churchill (then the Minister competent) agreed that the existing law might be changed if an impartial enquiry upheld this method. Seldom was so emphatic a judgment delivered as that of the Commission then appointed (under Sir Morris Carter):

“The evidence … leaves no doubt as to the wishes of all classes of the inhabitants … an overwhelming majority of those who understand the question are in favour of the establishment of separate areas in which each of the two races, black and white, should be permitted to acquire interests in land … However desirable it may be that members of the two races should live together side by side with equal rights as regards the holding of land, we are convinced that in practice, probably for generations to come, such a policy is not practicable or in the best interests of the two races. Until the Native has advanced very much further on the paths of civilization it is better that the points of contact between the two races should be reduced and a lengthy period afforded for the study of the whole question of the future of the relations between the two races in an atmosphere which is freed as far as possible from the setbacks which would ensue from the irritations and conflicts arising from the constant close proximity of members of races of different habits, ideals and outlook upon life” (my italics).

This was then, and today is the immutable African truth, unpalatable to those who live snug, and perhaps smug, on Boston’s Back Bay or Bournemouth’s beachfront, and very anathema to those high initiates who seek through chaos in Africa to set up the World Dictatorship. Wisdom spoke then. Today, the pressure, and the menaces, from London and Washington are used to enforce the very opposite of this prudent ruling, to exacerbate “irritations and conflicts”, to set the two races against each other, and to foment an atmosphere of war.

But if the future is to be one of improving relationship between white and black folk, and of mutual betterment in material things, separate life in separate lands is the only longterm solution. In Rhodesia policy followed this recommendation and the white and black areas are distinct, but dotted in enclaves over the map. What the chief and tribesman most would like would be a separate homeland, side by side with a white homeland, in Rhodesia, and for this reason he gazes approvingly across the frontier at the Transkei, South Africa’s first “Bantustan”. . . .

       
Transkei (lower right, in orange) and South Africa’s other Black homelands. Most racialists seem unaware that ethnostates were tried in southern Africa with state backing. Reed described the experiment while it was in progress in The Siege of Southern Africa. Of course, it was ruthlessly crushed from outside.

As to that, there is one simple test by which the white folk’s supreme achievement in Rhodesia, in relation to the black ones, may be measured. If life be the greatest gift of all, then the white man gave the black one life. Seventy years ago some 400,000 tribespeople occupied this area, and but for the coming of the white man they would not be many more today: disease, the assegai and the slaver would have seen to that. Today they number over 4,000,000, half of them children. They have been rid of disease, infant mortality, death by the spear and burning, and abduction and sale to the bordellos and harems of Arabia.

* * *

Source: Andrew Hamilton


2

Posted by Letter from Rhodesia on Fri, 19 May 2017 07:34 | #

Hi All

For those that do not know Alan Paton was a giant supporter of Majority Rule and yet as in Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) the famous supporters of independence & majority rule like Alan Paton’s wife left the country very shortly after Majority Rule came to be. In Other words were all for Majority Rule but did not want to live under it.

I can only hope that those of us left behind in the wake & complete mess of these peoples so called “Beliefs”, can be offered by western countries something the same as the American Blacks Slaves were offered, that is free passage to Liberia if they did not want to live under white rule , because Democracy just does not work in Africa due to minority groups being totally ignored, drowned out by the huge majority of the ruling party. I just hope the western powers can offer us Asylum before it is too late & we have all been slaughtered as Mr Julius Malema (leader of the 3rd biggest party in SA , but the fastest growing party with its support base being mainly under 25 years old which consists of approx. 60% of South Africa’s population), has already called for at a rally or something similar.

Unfortunately Mr Mandela’s dream of a “Rainbow Nation” is just “Pie in the sky” . Mrs Paton is 100 % correct in saying racism is worse now in South Africa than ever before. We are living in permanent fear here as South Africa has become extremely violent, corrupt, lawless, racist & a very unpleasant place to live.

Please pass this on to as many influential people in your countries government circles as possible in the hopes that someone will do something to help us.

Kind Regards

RUSTEN KONSCHEL

Clive Williams

Managing Director & Founder

WHY I’M FLEEING SOUTH AFRICA

by Anne Paton (widow of Alan Paton) ( London Sunday Times)

I am leaving South Africa. I have lived here for 35 years, and I shall leave with anguish. My home and my friends are here, but I am terrified.

I know I shall be in trouble for saying so, because I am the widow of Alan Paton. Fifty years ago he wrote Cry, The Beloved Country. He was an unknown schoolmaster and it was his first book, but it became a bestseller overnight. It was eventually translated into more than 20 languages and became a set book in schools all over the world. It has sold more than 15 million copies and still sells 100,000 copies a year.

As a result of the startling success of this book, my husband became famous for his impassioned speeches and writings, which brought to the notice of the world the suffering of the black man under apartheid.

He campaigned for Nelson Mandela’s release from prison and he worked all his life for black majority rule. He was incredibly hopeful about the new South Africa that would follow the end of apartheid, but he died in 1988, aged 85.I was so sorry he did not witness the euphoria and love at the time of the election in 1994. But I am glad he is not alive now. He would have been so distressed to see what has happened to his beloved country.

I love this country with a passion, but I cannot live here any more. I can no longer live slung about with panic buttons and gear locks. I am tired of driving with my car windows closed and the doors locked, tired of being afraid of stopping at red lights. I am tired of being constantly on the alert, having that sudden frisson of fear at the sight of a shadow by the gate, of a group of youths approaching - although nine times out of 10 they are innocent of harmful intent. Such is the suspicion that dogs us all.

Among my friends and the friends of my friends, I know of nine people who have been murdered in the past four years. An old friend, an elderly lady, was raped and murdered by someone who broke into her home for no reason at all; another was shot at a garage.
We have a saying, “Don’t fire the gardener”, because of the belief that it is so often an inside job - the gardener who comes back and does you in.

All this may sound like paranoia, but it is not without reason. I have been hijacked, mugged and terrorised. A few years ago my car was taken from me at gunpoint. I was forced into the passenger seat. I sat there frozen. But just as one man jumped into the back and the other fumbled with the starter I opened the door and ran away. To this day I do not know how I did this. But I got away, still clutching my handbag.

On May 1 this year I was mugged in my home at three in the afternoon. I used to live in a community of big houses with big grounds in the countryside. It’s still beautiful and green, but the big houses have been knocked down and people have moved into fenced complexes like the one in which I now live. Mine is in the suburbs of Durban , but they’re springing up everywhere.

That afternoon I came home and omitted to close the security door. I went upstairs to lie down. After a while I thought I’d heard a noise, perhaps a bird or something. Without a qualm I got up and went to the landing; outside was a man. I screamed and two other men appeared. I was seized by the throat and almost throttled; I could feel myself losing consciousness. My mouth was bound with Sellotape and I was threatened with my own knife (Girl Guide issue from long ago) and told: “If you make a sound, you die.” My hands were tied tightly behind my back and I was thrown into the guest room and the door was shut. They took all the electronic equipment they could find, except the computer. They also, of course, took the car.

A few weeks later my new car was locked up in my fenced carport when I was woken by its alarm in the early hours of the morning. The thieves had removed the radio, having cut through the padlocks in order to bypass the electric control on the gates.

The last straw came a few weeks ago, shortly before my 71st birthday. I returned home in the middle of the afternoon and walked into my sitting room. Outside the window two men were breaking in. I retreated to the hall and pressed the panic alarm. This time I had shut the front door on entering. By now I had become more cautious. Yet one of the men ran around the house, jumped over the fence and tried to batter down the front door. Meanwhile, his accomplice was breaking my sitting- room window with a hammer. This took place while the sirens were shrieking, which was the frightening part. They kept coming, in broad daylight, while the alarm was going. They knew that there had to be a time lag of a few minutes before help arrived - enough time to dash off with the television and video recorder. In fact, the front-door assailant was caught and taken off to the cells.

Recently I telephoned to ask the magistrate when I would be called as a witness. She told me she had let him off for lack of evidence. She said that banging on my door was not an offence, and how could I prove that his intent was hostile?

I have been careless in the past - razor wire and electric gates give one a feeling of security. Or at least, they did. But I am careless no longer. No fence - be it electric or not - no wall, no razor wire is really a deterrent to the determined intruder. Now my alarm is on all the time and my panic button hung round my neck. While some people say I have been unlucky, others say: “You are lucky not to have been raped or murdered.” What kind of a society is this where one is considered “lucky” not to have been raped or murdered - yet?

A character in Cry, The Beloved Country says: “I have one great fear in my heart, that one day when they are turned to loving they will find we are turned to hating.” And so it has come to pass. There is now more racial tension in this country than I have ever known.

But it is not just about black-on-white crime. It is about general lawlessness. Black people suffer more than the whites. They do not have access to private security firms, and there are no police stations near them in the townships and rural areas. They are the victims of most of the hijackings, rapes and murders. They cannot run away like the whites, who are streaming out of this country in their thousands.

President Mandela has referred to us who leave as “cowards” and says the country can do without us. So be it. But it takes a great deal of courage to uproot and start again. We are leaving because crime is rampaging through the land. The evils that beset this country now are blamed on the legacy of apartheid. One of the worst legacies of that time is that of the Bantu Education Act, which deliberately gave black people an inferior education.

The situation is exacerbated by the fact that criminals know that their chances of being caught are negligible; and if they are caught they will be free almost at once. So what is the answer? The government needs to get its priorities right. We need a powerful, well-trained and well-equipped police force.

Recently there was a robbery at a shopping centre in the afternoon. A call to the police station elicited the reply: “We have no transport.” “Just walk then,” said the caller; the police station is about a two-minute sprint from the shop in question. “We have no transport,” came the reply again. Nobody arrived.

There is a quote from my husband’s book: “Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.”

What has changed in half a century? A lot of people who were convinced that everything would be all right are disillusioned, though they don’t want to admit it.

The government has many excellent schemes for improving the lot of the black man, who has been disadvantaged for so long. A great deal of money is spent in this direction. However, nothing can succeed while people live in such fear. Last week, about 10km from my home, an old couple were taken out and murdered in the garden. The wife had only one leg and was in a wheelchair. Yet they were stabbed and strangled - for very little money. They were the second old couple to be killed last week. It goes on and on, all the time; we have become a killing society.

As I prepare to return to England , a young man asked me the other day, in all innocence, if things were more peaceful there. “You see,” he said, “I know of no other way of life than this. I cannot imagine anything different.” What a tragic statement on the beloved country today. “Because the white man has power, we too want power,” says Msimangu. “But when a black man gets power, when he gets money, he is a great man if he is not corrupted. I have seen it often. He seeks power and money to put right what is wrong, and when he gets them, why, he enjoys the power and the money. Now he can gratify his lusts, now he can arrange ways to get white man’s liquor. I see only one hope for our country, and that is when white men and black men, desiring neither power nor money, but desiring only the good of their country, come together to work for it.

I have one great fear in my heart, that one day when they are turned to loving, they will find we are turned to hating.

Anne Paton



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