Flaws of Attraction: Part 1

By Francois J. Naude

The book suggests a strong resistance to change and moral attitudes, i.e. people still behave and think the same way as they did in the past (a dark-ages mind-set). It is quite extraordinary that technology and human intelligence has evolved so rapidly to where it is today and yet moral standards are still where they were in the dark ages.
It is exactly what Albert Einstein had quoted; that technology has surpassed humanity. It is unbelievable that we still stereotype, discriminate, and judge people who are of a different skin color, culture, gender, religion, language, and even sexual preference, even though there are laws in place to guide people to act and behave in a morally correct manner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Africa
• Release date: Mar 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781482862607

Book preview

Part A

Sowing the Seed

Chapter 1

In the Shadow of Death

1849

The tough, powerful, conservative, and fanatical Afrikaner Boers who fled the Cape in 1830 to 1846, to escape from a domineering and harsh British government, established Port Natal. In the Cape, the British imposed laws that ensured that only British people could benefit, and made it impossible for the Boer settlers to succeed in any attempted farming or business ventures. The angered afflicted Boers decided to pack up and leave the British- governed territory, in pursuit of their own promised land, with faith in God and renewed determination, fuelled by the loathing and distrust for the British. This was indeed the foundation of the mutual cultural animosity between Boer and English that was to last for generations to come. The Boers loaded all their belongings onto ox wagons, and men, women, children, and horses trekked north away from the detested Brits. This movement was known as the Great Trek. Along the way, the Boers went through many difficulties, encountering continuous attacks from hostile natives, who rightfully used necessary ruthless killing methods, in an attempt to rid and protect their land from these trespassing parasitic invaders. Not only did the Boers have to deal with the continuous onslaught of the natives, they also had to contend with the abundance of the world’s most dangerous living creatures, great and small. Even though the Boers were far outnumbered by the native tribes, their inner strength and strong religious belief saw them victorious on many a battlefield, and the tough times just made the Boers stronger and more resilient.

The success of Boer-claimed Port Natal saw the British pull off one of their many dirty political propaganda tactics to take over the promised land. As Port Natal was thriving economically, the rest of the world no longer found it necessary to do trade with the British in the Cape, besides the fact that the waters at the Cape of Good Hope were extremely treacherous, especially when attempting to reach shore, rendering the Cape bankrupt.

The British devised a plan to take over Port Natal. Motivated by greed, and not by humanitarian reasons as they proclaim, they abolished slavery and declared any states refusing to abide by the abolishment of slavery to be declaring war, knowing all too well that the Boers depended on slaves in the running of their farms and businesses. The Boers refused to abide by these laws and were not prepared to take on the mighty British military empire, as the Boers were too widely spread at this stage and too busy developing and protecting their farms from native invaders. The British took advantage of this situation and in 1843 marched into Natal and annexed Natal without a single shot being fired. They then shipped hundreds of people from India, with promises of a free passage back home, to work on these farms. The irony of it all is that racist harsh treatment to these Indians (benefits, salaries, and living conditions) was that of a slave, and earnings were so low that the majority of these Indians could not afford to get home even if they wanted to.

Francois Schmidt is a tough, balding, and soft-spoken bearded man of average height, build, and looks. Francois lives with his vivacious beautiful French wife Magdalene on their African bush veld farm, near the coast of Port Natal. Magdalene, of average height, is crowned with thick wavy long golden locks of hair that wave down to the arch of her back, her emerald-green eyes and flawless olive skin complexion complemented by a petite stunning body. Francois and Magdalene are very much in love with each other, and not just in love, they are also the best of friends. Francois is a simple non-political man who is only interested in the well-being of his farm. He is a man of great virtue that is well respected by his farm workers, a respect that was earned, and treats and provides for his workers the best he can. Francois also has no animosity towards the British. He supplies the British with meat, sugar, and coffee, using his farming skills, is considered a huge asset for the British. In return, the British pay him what he believes to be reasonable and offer him protection and freedom to run the farm as he sees fit.

This relationship of Francois with the British does not sit well with other Boers, especially with Francois’ neighbouring Boers, the Strydoms. The Strydoms are a crowd of tobacco-chewing tough roughnecks, consisting of three Strydom brothers and their wives, reputed for their aggressive, bombastic nature and wicked cruelty towards their workers. The Strydoms absolutely despise the British and everything they represent. They refer to the British as souties, in translation meaning ‘salty persons’, which refers to the British standing with one foot in Britain and the other foot in Africa, stretched across the salty seawater. The Strydoms adamantly consider Francois to be a traitor and constantly ridicule him, attempting to provoke him into a physical confrontation.

‘Hey, Schmidt,’ one of them would shout, ‘ja, you, you fucking traitor… Bring that little hot Frenchie wife over, and my brahs and me’ (brahs is slang for brothers) ‘will show her what a real man is.’

‘Ja ja ja, wotever, empty vessels… just a bunch of empty vessels making a lot of noise,’ Francois would remark in a sarcastic tone and just walk away, looking in another direction as they stop the mocking and look blankly at each other, not having any clue to what he is referring to.

It is a humid early December evening on the Schmidt farm, in the whitewashed Cape Dutch thatch-roof farm-style house. The mood is relaxed as the attractive young native housecleaner, who goes by the name Eva, cladin colourful traditional dress and headgear, smiles and wishes the two lovebirds goodnight and leaves via the back door to the designated servants’ quarters. Paraffin lanterns flicker a warm light throughout the varnished-wood lounge. Francois sits in his armchair, drinking a cup of coffee, sampling the stock of ground coffee beans from his barn.

‘This is a damn good crop,’ he says, nodding his head in approval, placing the beans back into a glass jar. Magdalene walks over to him, and brushing her slender hands over his shoulders and stopping at his chest, massaging him gently through his khaki shirt, stoops over, exposing her bronzed cleavage and seductively whispers in his ear.

‘It is time for bed, handsome… there is a different seed you need to plant… I will be waiting,’ she says then swaggers away and, glancing back at him, smiles and removes the straps of her dress, exposing her slender silk-skinned back and shoulders, and gracefully walks to the bedroom.

‘I, I, will be there,’ he stammers with excitement. ‘Just let me lock up.’

Staring after her with approving anticipation, he quickly stands up and puts the empty cup down on the side table. ‘Wow, mmmm… What a beauty,’ he mutters under his breath, nodding with approval. Taking three deep breaths, he moves towards the paraffin lamp to kill the flame.

Suddenly the silence is shattered by a huge terrifying crashing noise at the door. Caught by the sudden surprise, Francois is frozen in fear and shock, glances at the splintered open door, as screaming wide-eyed enraged Zulu men, dressed in Zulu war gear, armed with assegai and knobkerries, come bursting through the door, charging towards him. Before Francois can react, one of the Zulus smashes Francois a full-blooded cracking shot with the knobkerrie in the face. Total darkness.

Francois comes around slowly, his vision is blurred, and a strong taste of blood is in his mouth as he tries to swallow and cough. Warm thick lines of blood meander down his face from the gapping head wound, the pain is unbearable, and he groans as he tries to breathe and focus. As he gains focus, he looks around, bewildered, and realizes that he is tied down in a seated position to one of the dining room wooden chairs. Pain surges through every part of his blood-drenched body, as he has been beaten almost to a bloody pulp. As he slowly gains complete focus and conscious, he is stricken by the horror unfolding in front of him.

Four Zulus are holding Magdalene down while another is on top of her. Magdalene’s vacant bruised face is turned to the side with saliva foaming from her mouth, staring straight at Francois with wide vacant eyes as though she were already dead. In the dining room a second group of Zulus are holding down the housemaid, whom they dragged in from the back room and proceed to beat and do the unimaginable.

‘Kill the evil British Boer… you whites come and impose tax laws on me, Chief Langalibalele, for my huts, on my land, this is our land, fuck off from our land and go home.’

One of the Zulus notices that Schmidt is conscious, and comes over to him. Grabbing a patch of bloody matted hair at the back of his head and tilting his head viciously backwards, he looks Francois in the face from close up and, with an oily, sweaty menacing look, spits in Francois’ face as he shouts mockingly, ‘Look how your women pay for your sins.

‘Look,’ he yells, jerking Francois’ head viciously to the side in the direction of the women being raped. ‘Look how we fuck your women just like you whites keep fucking us.’

‘Please… Please… please do not hurt my wife… take anything you want… Please leave my family alone,’ Francois splutters, as the blood gurgles out his mouth.

‘Never ever, you white piece of shit,’ the Zulu says to him in an evil whisper. ‘Not until we rid our land of all you white parasites, and we are once again free.’ Then the Zulu still holding Francois’ head, lifting up his assegai with the other hand, chants a war slogan, ‘Death to the white demons, bulala amakati, kill the white wizards.’

The Zulu, staring like a possessed demon into Francois’ eyes, thrusts his assegai into Francois’ stomach, wrenching the assegai around, ripping Francois’ insides out, spilling his guts onto his lap. The Zulu never takes his eyes from the gulping, agonised Francois, until Francois slumps over as he takes his last breath.

Chapter 2

Hollow Justice

At sunrise, Benjamin Pine, the half-undressed governor, with a sweaty pink boozy face and thin dishevelled light brown hair, is peeking precariously out the window, holding a shabby blanket around his flabby midsection at the Royal hotel, in an upper room in the centre of the small Port Natal wood-and-white-plaster town.

‘What’s the matter, scared of being caught, Sir Benjamin?’ a plump brunette asks cheekily from the bed.

‘Shit…good Lord! There seems to be some sort of trouble at the Schmidt farm.’ He is looking out in the distance to a huge smoke plume rising into the sky.

Pine quickly gets dressed and scampers to the military barracks, where he immediately dispatches twenty armed soldiers on horseback to go investigate.

The soldiers come galloping onto the farm property, pulling in the reins of their horses, jerking them to a quick halt. Their faces contort in disgust as they begin to come to grips with the stench and the horror that is unfolding before their very eyes. In the gloom and haze of the smoke and smouldering remnants of the farm buildings lie the naked, mutilated, and bloody dead bodies of women and children. Planted in the ground are assegais, with decapitated heads impaled through the assegai spears. Some of the soldiers cannot contain themselves and quickly dismount and fall to their knees, vomiting from disgust at what they are witnessing.

The rest of the soldiers dismount hurriedly and nervously attach bayonets onto their rifles, and begin to load their Brunswick .704 muzzle-loading percussion rifles. Not a word or an order is uttered, as soldiers and officers are too shaken up to speak. After what seems to be minutes but in reality is only seconds, the lieutenant gives the order to move slowly and with caution towards the main house.

‘Keep your eyes open for any signs of life,’ the lieutenant orders with a shaky voice, as he struggles to maintain and control his emotions.

They enter cautiously into the house, and the first thing they see is the mutilated remains of Francois tied down in a chair, slumped over, covered in blood, with a huge gaping hole in his midsection, with blood and guts spilled onto his lap and on the floor next to him. One of the soldiers moves towards Magdalene’s bloody and bruised body sprawled on the floor. He notices blood bubbling out her nose and that she is still breathing.

‘This one is still alive!’ the soldier gasps in utter astonishment.

‘So is that one!’ says another soldier, pointing to Eva sprawled on the dining room table, who has just gained consciousness and starts to stir and flinch in agony.

Days later

A tall handsome officer with his brown polished boned step-out military shoes comes clomping down the hollow wooden corridor floor inside the Port Natal British military headquarters. The man is wearing a brown military blazer with two silver crossed-swords brooches pinned on either shoulder. Underneath the blazer, he is wearing a black shirt with clerical collar and crowned with a peaked military regimental hat. He stops in front of a door with ‘Commissioner Benjamin Pine’ patented in gold on it, and knocks on the door.

‘Come on in,’ the commissioner calls from inside the paper- and file-cluttered office. The clergyman opens the door, steps inside the somewhat disorganised untidy office, and removes his hat.

‘You summoned, sir—oh, excuse me, greetings, sisters.’ He suddenly realizes there are also two elderly nuns standing nervously in the office.

‘Greetings, Father,’ the nuns respond in a despondent tone.

‘Ah, yeah, Father, I indeed did call for you,’ the commissioner impatiently interrupts from behind his desk covered in papers spilling onto the floor. ‘I suppose you heard about the catastrophe at the Schmidt farm that happened last night… shocking… shocking,’ the commissioner says, shaking his head side to side and then clasping his face in discord.

‘Yes, I have heard this terrible news,’ the clergyman gingerly says, then proceeds to clear his throat as his eyes begin to water. ‘They were part of my parish… They are… I mean… were really good people.’

‘Well, anyway,’ says the commissioner with a sigh, ‘I’ve got a platoon out there guarding and doing clean-up operations. I want you and the sisters to go out there and set up house and take care of the remaining two survivors and the farm, bury the dead, and do whatever is necessary to restore order and bring the farm back to normal production. That farm cannot afford to go down… that farm was a huge asset to queen and country… do you understand?’

‘Yes, I certainly do,’ Father Davies says with enthusiasm. ‘Will be just too happy to assist. But what about the persons responsible for this horrendous crime?’

‘Persons…persons,’ yells the commissioner angrily, leaning forward onto his desk, with eyes looking like they are about to explode out his head. ‘These are not people, these are savage bloody Kaffirs… do you know what a Kaffir is?’

The clergyman just stares in bewilderment at the commissioner, nodding his head in acknowledgement, quite astonished and bemused by the commissioner’s sudden outburst.

‘Non-believers,’ the commissioner continues, ‘and we will find these bloody animals and take care of them appropriately.

‘Right now I have assembled a posse of Boers, Englishmen, and we will hunt them down like the animals they are,’ he comments with pure contempt. ‘Now get on out of here and proceed with your new orders,’ he says, waving the clergyman and nuns out his office. ‘And, Father, one more thing,’ says the commissioner, pointing his index and his middle finger at his own eyes and then diverting his fingers towards Father Davies. ‘I’ll be watching you,’ he comments accusingly.

‘Yes, commissioner,’ the bewildered Father Davies quickly replies, and he and nuns hurriedly turn around and leave the office.

Father Robert Davies is a 27-year-old Catholic priest and a doctor working for the British military in Port Natal. Father Davies is a tall man with light brown hair, always combed with a side part, clean-shaven, with noticeable piercing blue eyes. Father Davies is the son of a wealthy physician in London. Father Davies’ father travelled around the world on many expeditions, collecting and acquiring knowledge of recipes in the making of a large variety of pharmaceuticals that he presented, tested, and got approved by the medical board and committee of the time. Davies Senior played a huge part in the introduction and approval of medicinal drugs like morphine and other extravagant medication. Father Davies had spent a lot of time with his dad in his laboratory and acquired a vast amount of knowledge from his dad. A young, naive Father Davies had decided to become a priest, as it was his lifelong dream/ambition to become a missionary and travel the world, spreading the word of God to non-believers. Father Davies uses his knowledge of medicines to heal the sick. Whilst he was doing some research and experiments on new herbs and teas that were delivered to him from South America, namely hoasca and cocaine, other intellectuals and officials often accused him of practicing witchcraft. To escape the constant persecution from a fanatical British public, and to give him the freedom to do his research, away from these British witch hunters, Father Davies joined the army and served as a doctor and minister for a British military regiment which was dispatched to Port Natal.

The funeral is being held on the farm, whites standing on one side of the graves, the surviving natives and Indians on the opposite side. Magdalene is standing next to the commissioner in front with the white people, just staring blankly in front of her with a dead, vacant stare in her eyes. Eva is standing with the segregated natives, sobbing uncontrollably. Father Davies has his hands raised in prayer, standing between the segregated crowds, as the cheap pine wooden coffins are being lowered into the graves.

About two miles from where the funeral is being held, coinciding to the time the coffins are being lowered into the graves, there is a dust trail of angry men on horseback armed with rifles, pistols, and swords galloping ferociously towards a Zulu kraal. Up ahead in the distance is a complacent Zulu tribe that is going about their daily chores in the kraal; they all suddenly stop what they are doing as they hear the distant beat of galloping hooves getting louder and louder. Before the Zulus can react, the equestrians come charging into the kraal and begin to open fire on every living being in front of them. The charge is led by the Strydoms, with snarling evil grins on their sweaty dirty faces, sometimes even sniggering, enjoying themselves as they massacre every man, woman, and child in their path. The innocent natives, even the petrified screaming children, trying to flee, are mowed down by the charging horses, while the already wounded lying on the ground get their throats slit. Even women carrying babies on their backs are stabbed and their babies decapitated by ruthless swordsmen. The men on horseback light flame torches and begin to torch the grass huts and wait for burning people hiding in the huts to come out and massacre them.

‘Kill the murdering Kaffir, kill the fucking dirty savage, and kill the fucking cattle thieves,’ they mockingly chant.

The posse leaves a bloody burning scene with blood and human remains scattered all over the place; even their panting sweaty horses are soaked in blood.

After the funeral, Father Davies, walking back to the main house with the procession, approaches the commissioner frantically. Pointing in confusion to the smoke plume coming from the Zulu kraal in the distance, Father Davies asks him, ‘What is happening over there?’

‘I believe justice is being served,’ answers the commissioner contently, with a wry smile. ‘Trust me, those Kaffirs will not murder again.’

The irony of it all is that the men responsible for the farm massacre are not from the same tribe that was massacred. Chief Langalibalele is sitting quite safe in his kraal in a faraway location admiring the rifles and spoils he collected from the raid of the Schmidt farm.

One month later

The commissioner returns to the farm to follow up on the farm’s progress. Father Davies welcomes the commissioner and escorts him to the newly renovated office in the main house.

‘The place is looking good,’ the commissioner comments, looking around in approval. ‘Looks like you are doing an excellent job.’

Father Davies informs the commissioner that the farm is back in production and that the new Indian workers are happy in the now-completed hostels and that the workers are now fully acclimatised to the working conditions.

‘But all is not well with the ladies,’ sighs the agitated Father Davies.

‘Well, you cannot expect them to recover overnight, after the dramatic trauma they have been through is astronomically horrific,’ remarks the commissioner.

‘I’m afraid there is even worse news,’ says Father Davies.

‘What could possibly be worse than what already has happened?’ the commissioner asks in confused astonishment.

‘Can I offer you something strong to drink? I think you are going to need one… with what I am about to tell you.’

‘No, thank you, a tad early, don’t you think?’ says the commissioner accusingly and looking around with suspicion.

‘I have hired another maid, her name is Christine, in fact she is the sister of Eva, to assist in the welfare and care of the ladies… and both the nuns and Christine tell me that both ladies are late with their menstrual cycle,’ he announces as the commissioner stops and faces him.

‘So what does that mean.. . what are you saying?’ asks the naive commissioner.

‘It means that both women are probably pregnant.’

‘From the rape saga! Good Lord, I think I will have that drink now.’

The shocked commissioner orders Father Davies to call the nuns and Christine into the office for a meeting. When Christine walks into the office, he is immediately taken aback by her beautiful good looks and her amazing figure. Christine is a shy 23-year-old coloured woman with big brown eyes, long straight silky black hair, and Cleopatra-like features, with a stunning figure. While figuratively undressing Christine with his eyes and making her feel really uncomfortable to the point where she has to look down to avoid eye contact, the commissioner proceeds to instruct all persons to keep the situation of the two pregnant women a secret. He proceeds to tell them not to tell a single soul until he can figure out how to resolve this delicate and complicated issue. They all give their solemn word and he dismisses them from the office. Just as he’s about to leave, he turns to Father Davies and comments in jest.

‘It amazes me how you continuously refer to the servant by her name Christine, yet I bet you don’t have a clue what the nuns’ names are,’ he comments accusingly.

Magdalene has gone completely insane. Months have gone by, and she still has not uttered a single word since the incident. She just sits in her room and stares out the window, or she often goes to her husband’s gravesite and just stands there, staring at the gravestone, for hours. To get Magdalene to eat, Father Davies believes giving her his special tea in small quantities will help her deal with her traumatic state of mind. The unusual tea, is tea that is made from the bark and stems of a tropical South American vine that Father Davies has ordered shipped to him in large quantities from South America.

The mentally stronger Eva is looked after by her sister Christine in the servants’ quarters and is coping much better than Magdalene.

The commissioner pays the farm a visit about one month before the babies are due. Once again, he calls for a meeting with Father Davies and his staff. He again congratulates them on the success of farming production and on keeping the situation of the pregnant women confidential and lastly inquires on the well-being of the two women. The report he gets is that of sorrow and despair. He then discusses the plans for the farm. He tells them that because the only surviving owner of the farm is mentally incapable of running the farm, the British government wants to turn the farm into a welfare and agricultural school for war-orphaned children and derelicts. Extra buildings for accommodation and classes are to be constructed starting tomorrow. Father Davies is to be appointed as the headmaster and will no longer fall under the jurisdiction of the military but still report to the commissioner of welfare. The nuns will stay on as teachers. Extra teachers will be shipped over to assist in the schooling. The agricultural school will be called St Francis Home for Children. Father Davies welcomes the proposal but cautiously reminds the commissioner that the unborn child of Magdalene, by right, is actually the true heir to the farm. The commissioner angrily tells him that if the child is born white, and only white, then he or she, when turning twenty-one years of age, can put in a written proposal to regain ownership to the farm.

Chapter 3

Ebony and Ivory

1850

The humid Natal evening is broken with cries of severe anguish and pain coming from the pale illuminated main house. Inside the house, in the kitchen, Christine hurriedly pours hot water into a huge white iron bowl, collects towels, and hastily moves into the servants’ quarters room. As she comes through the door, Eva is lying on the bed moaning and writhing in pain, with her neck arched backwards and legs spread open. Father Davies is kneeling in front of her, encouraging her.

‘Push. Push, Eva, for God’s sake, puush,’ he encourages. ‘Bring the bowl and towels and get out,’ he shouts out in distress.

Christine puts the bowl and towels down and moves out of the room, closing the door behind her. She leans back against the wall, gazing up towards the heavens as the tears flow down her cheeks. The sounds of Eva’s screams of pain are just too much to bear, and she crouches down on the floor, blocks her ears, and sobs uncontrollably. Suddenly silence for a few seconds. Christine removes her shakinghands from her ears and gasps as she hears the sound of a crying baby. She stands up as the door opens and Father Davies, covered in blood, comes walking towards her with a look of anguish on his face.

‘I am so sorry,’ he says, grabbing Christine in his arms. ‘I tried but I could not do anything to save her, I am sorry she did not make it.’

‘But I heard the baby cry.’ Christine, quivering, looks up at him.

‘No, no, no… The child made it but I’m afraid Eva is gone,’ he answers her, holding her tightly as Christine breaks down.

‘No, no, nohhhh,’ she cries as he comforts her, cradling her in his arms.

‘A boy or girl?’ she finally asks solemnly.

‘It’s a boy,’ he pauses, ‘a beautiful baby boy.’

Late the next afternoon, Eva is buried next to the graves of the other victims of the recent holocaust, with a quiet ceremony. After the ceremony, Father Davies walks up to Christine, who is standing with the child at the gravesite, and lightly places his hand on her shoulder, asking her what her plans are.

‘I will bring the child up as my very own,’ she says sadly. ‘I hope Father allows me to stay on as a humble servant to you, as I will serve you well.’

‘You are more than just a servant to me, you are also my friend, and as long as I am headmaster of this institution, I will do everything in my power to make life as comfortable and as pleasant for you and the child… at the main house,’ he says to her with utmost sincerity then walks away, leaving her to grieve for her sister.

‘Thank you, Father, thank you,’ she whispers as the tears flow down her cheeks.

Later that evening, a loud repeated banging on his door awakens a bemused Father Davies.

‘Come quickly, Father, it’s Magdalene, she is about to give birth,’ the nun shouts hysterically outside his door.

‘Oh hell, no! Here we go again,’ remarks Father Davies, jumping out of bed, putting his trousers on, and slinging the braces over his well-built shoulders. ‘Give me a second, I’m on my way,’ he shouts back at the nun.

Father Davies enters the room and Magdalene is lying on the bed, head turned to the side, legs spread. Even though she is convulsing and having muscle spasms, she does not utter a sound.

‘Yeah, she’s in labour all right,’ says Father Davies, kneeling in front of her, frowning in astonishment at her weird silence. ‘I can see the head already coming out. I cannot believe how easy this baby is coming out… Oh my God!’ he remarks with shock, as the baby seems to pop into his hands. The nuns and Father Davies stare in disbelief as the pale-complexioned bloody child with umbilical cord still attached, spills into Father Davies’ bloodstained hands. As Father Davies raises the child, it begins to cry.

‘It’s a boy! And he is white, whiter than snow.’ He turns the child towards the nuns. ‘Take care of them both, especially this one,’ he says, glancing towards Magdalene. ‘She is not well, you know what I mean.’ And he hands the child to the nuns.

The next morning, once again, the exhausted unshaven Father Davies is awakened with banging on his door.

‘What now?’ he shouts, sitting up and wiping the sleep out of his red eyes.

‘It is Magdalene…she is missing, Father,’ the stricken nun shouts from the other side of the door.

‘What do you mean, she is missing?’ Father Davies asks, opening the door abruptly. ‘And the child?’

‘The child is safe but we searched the whole premises and we just cannot seem to find her.’

‘Okay… let’s not panic… ask the stable boys to prepare my horse, I’ll be there shortly. In the meantime, keep on searching,’ says Father Davies, trying desperately to stay focused.

First, Davies goes to the gravesite, hoping to find Magdalene there, but she is not there. Riding along the sand road, he asks the workers if any of them have spotted her. A young Indian woman, standing together with another frightening frail witchlike woman, replies she saw a strange white woman early in the morning, dressed in a smart black dress and hat, walking towards the gorge. Father Davies knows exactly what that means, and quickly asks, ‘What direction?’

The woman points him in the direction and he canters away quickly, mumbling under his breath.

‘Oh God, I hope I’m not too late.’

Davies finds her standing on the edge of the gorge, with her back towards him, staring out from above the 60-m high cliff stretching along the mountain range. The breeze is blowing her blonde hair to the side as she just stands and stares with the same familiar blank expression on her face. He dismounts from his horse and moves slowly towards her. As he gets closer, he calls out to her, with outstretched arms, pleading for her to listen to him.

‘Please, please, Magdalene, listen to me, please… just listen to what I have to say,’ he pleads, moving cautiously towards her. ‘You have a beautiful child… a white beautiful boy child… he needs his mother. Think about what you are doing. Please, Magdalene, I need you to be strong.’

For the first time since she was raped, and to the astonishment of Davies, Magdalene speaks. She raises her arms from her sides upwards, reaching towards the heavens, and shouts in anger, ‘That god forsaken bastard is not my child; he is the spawn of Satan.’ Then without any warning, she flings herself off the cliff.

‘No,’ Davies yells as he runs to try to catch her. He falls to his stomach with his outstretched arms over the edge and watches as Magdalene falls down the side of the cliff.

Suddenly, in a split second, a strange-looking, silent silver cigar-shaped flying object appears in front of him. The object seems to follow Magdalene down the cliff, then a few yards from the ground, it loops upwards and disappears into the sky. Davies in shock just lies on his stomach, with his hand still stretched out, with his mouth open in bewilderment and disbelief. He stares frantically down the cliff for signs of Magdalene’s body and sees nothing. He rolls onto his back, just staring into the sky. Then he rolls back onto his stomach and searches for her body again but sees nothing. Davies rubs his eyes, believing he must have just hallucinated.

‘I must have swallowed or inhaled something really strong,’ he says, mumbling to himself, and stands up and brushes himself off. As he turns to walk away, he spots something caught in a shrub a few yards over the cliff. As he focuses on the object, he notices it is a shoe. A woman’s shoe, it is Magdalene’s shoe.

Father Davies arrives back on the farm, on his horse at a very slow pace, looking dishevelled and confused. He dismounts and informs the waiting nuns that he was too late to stop Magdalene from killing herself and that she jumped off the cliff. He apologizes sympathetically to the crying nuns and tells the nuns that they need to move out of the main house and into the staff quarters at the school, as there are now no more women to take care of.

‘But what about the child?’ they ask, perplexed by the sudden new instruction.

‘Do not worry about the children; I’m sure Christine and I can take care of the both of them,’ he remarks disappointedly at the sudden surreal reality of the situation.

He moves inside, where he finds Christine. He tells her about the tragedy that has just unfolded and how the shock of witnessing her jump off the cliff made him hallucinate. He explains that it looked like something carried her away into the sky.

‘It looked so real… I could not see or find her body… I found her shoe, but not her,’ he whispers, as the tears begin to flow. Then taking her by the hands and moving closer to her, he says, ‘I need you to please help me to look after the children. I have instructed the sisters back to the school staff quarters; as soon as they have left, I need you to move into the main house… I think the two kids need parents…I mean… I think I can help, we can assist each other. . . assist you to bring them up… you know what I mean.’

‘Geez, and I foolishly thought for a moment, you just wanted me alone and closer to you,’ she flirtatiously responds.

‘So I take that as a yes,’ he answers shyly, not knowing quite how to respond. ‘In the meantime, I need you to help me come up with names for the baby boys.’

The boys are baptised in the new orphanage chapel. The commissioner is guest of honour and is unexpectedly and sarcastically announced as the godfather to Joseph Schmidt, son of the deceased Francois and Magdalene Schmidt. The other boy is baptised as Peter van Meerhof after his great-great-grandfather.

A few years later

The grandfather clock strikes 2200, echoing through the house on the farm. Father Davies stands up and goes to the bedroom of the boys and checks on them to see if they are all right. He smiles as he observes the two boys are sound asleep. He goes to his room and undresses, wraps a towel around himself, and proceeds to the bathroom. Without thinking, he opens the door and walks in on a more mature Christine, who is standing drying herself in front of the mirror. He stands frozen, staring in awe at this beautiful woman in front of him. The yellow light from the lamp flickers like gold on her damp body. Her long wet jet-black hair hangs loosely down one side, over the front of her shoulder. She turns and seductively looks at him with mouth slightly parted, exposing her perfect set of teeth. His eyes divert uncontrollably to her perfect beautiful body. The smell of lavender rose water coming from her body and from the bath water still lingers in the bathroom air. He is hypnotised and overwhelmed to the extent that he cannot stop himself from being aroused.

‘Happy to see me, Father?’ she teases, noticing his arousal.

‘I’m so sorry. I did not mean to walk in on you… I should have knocked,’ he says, clearing his throat.

‘Well, I’m not,’ she says in a soft whisper. She walks up to him and, putting her arms around his muscular shoulders, begins to kiss him gently on the lips.

Davies and Christine share different bedrooms so as not to arouse suspicions from the staff at the orphanage, but inside the main house, away from prying eyes, the love affair is strong, and at night they sneak off to each other’s rooms to engage in passionate lovemaking. It does not take long before Christine discovers that she is too pregnant. Christine makes up a fictitious boyfriend and lies that the father is a white sailor from Holland that she is madly in love with and one day plans to marry. When been invited to functions at the orphanage, she lies and tells people that she cannot make it as she is meeting with her boyfriend. She then fakes sorrow and puts on a brave act as she convinces the public that she informed her boyfriend that she is pregnant and that he has fled and will never return. Christine gives birth to a beautiful coloured girl whom they name Sarah van Meerhof.

Christine and Davies bring up the three children as a family in the main farmhouse, but they attend school at the orphanage with the rest of the kids, who reside in the hostels built by the government at the orphanage, St Francis Home for Children. Peter and Joseph are seven years old and Sarah is six. Peter is of dark complexion, curly afro hair, with chiselled strong features. Peter is taller, stronger, and faster than Joseph, but even though very athletic, he is a tad clumsy. Joseph is pale in complexion with reddish brown hair, freckles, and greenish brown eyes and is not particularly handsome. Nevertheless, even though sporting a tiny frame, he is intelligent, well spoken, a very good horse rider, and expert marksman. Sarah is the most beautiful, cutest little girl one can imagine. She has long wavy black hair and big beautiful blue eyes and is as cute as a button.

Peter, Joseph, and Sarah are made to believe from an early age that her father and the boys’ mothers were killed in battle and that Davies is their adoptive father. Never do the children grow up not feeling as a family, and they even refer to Davies and Christine as dad and mom, and to each other as brothers and sister. Davies spends a lot of quality time with the kids; he takes them fishing and teaches them to swim, horse ride, and even to hunt. He inherits, from the military, four new army Brunswick .704 muzzle-loading percussion rifles for the farm and teaches them to make their own bullets and shoot and load the rifle.

At the school, Davies is very persuasive in ridding the school of racial problems, and there are very few prejudice issues encountered at the orphanage. Because the school is considered a semi-private English school and orphanage, children of all races are permitted to attend. Joseph, Peter, and Sarah do not experience any discrimination at school but are exposed to repeated amounts of ridicule in town. They often bump into the young redneck Strydom boys, who are at ages from seven to ten years old, boys of the reputedly aggressive and violent Strydom family from the neighbouring farm. The encounters usually happen in town or when horse riding near the perimeters of the adjoining farms. The two farms are divided by a stream, and when encountering the Strydoms, either in town or at the river border, the Strydoms constantly provoke them and shout insulting derogatory remarks to them.

‘Hey, Kaffir lover,’ they mockingly scorn, directed especially at Joseph. ‘Are you colour-blind?’

‘Why don’t you find some white kids to play with?’

Then another points at Peter and shouts, ‘Why you black, are you sick?’

‘Why you white?’ asks Peter angrily.

‘Because I’m clean,’ shouts the Strydom back, and all the Strydoms start laughing loudly.

‘Just ignore them, they are fools, let us go,’ Joseph says and grabs Peter by the arm and pulls him away.

In 1856, a new head of Natal is appointed: Chief Constable William Harrison. Harrison is friends with Father Davies, as he is also trustee and head of the board to the orphanage. He attends all the orphanage functions with pride and enjoys being part of the project, which he believes to be necessary and which is also proclaimed as a great success story. Harrison is not aware of the true history of what happened at the farm and believes that the children Davies and Christine are harbouring are victims of past war. Harrison despises the Boers, especially the Strydoms, as he believes they are villains and understands what their ignorant evil minds are capable of. This is vindicated when the Strydoms commit an act of animal cruelty and are suspected of painting his favourite white horse with blue stripes. It also comes to Harrison’s attention that the Strydoms together with a group of right-wing Boers used propaganda to start a war between the Zulu king Mpende’s sons Cetshwayo and Mbala. The Boers tell Cetshwayo that his brother Mbala is in agreement with the British to get his own land from the British and be king of his own people. This is slightly true as the British are trying to split the Zulus, as they fear their numbers are growing and fear a mass attack from the Zulus. Cetshwayo is outraged and, with his warriors armed with the traditional assegai and shields, traps his brother and his followers with their backs to the Tugela River and massacres them. The corpses of the massacred are seen for eighty kilometres, floating down Natal coastline. Harrison is intentionally invited to a barbeque at one of the Boer farms and learns about the propaganda tactics used resulting in the slaughter of thousands of Zulus, in a drunken victory celebration, and leaves in disgust with the Boers laughing at him.

Chapter 4

Spellbound

1859

The boys are now nine years old and Sarah is eight. The boys get back from fishing down at