My Sarie Marais

My Sarie Marais  or simply Sarie Marais – pronounced ‘may sari ma-re’ as in ma(terial)-re(d) – is an Afrikaans song dating back to the 2nd Anglo-Boer or South African or 1899-1902 War although it goes back to an English song from 1815 – the link has various versions and the lyrics in Afrikaans. (p292 has the 1815 lyrics alongside the Afrikaans – for Afrikaans readers this looks a fascinating publication.)

For years, I’ve known the piece of music has been played on bagpipes and heard it once a the Edinburgh tatoo. The links between the Scots and Boers go back to a time when Scottish missionaries to South Africa would go to Holland to learn Dutch before heading south. John McKenzie covers this in his excellent book, The Scots in South Africa: Ethnicity, Identity, Gender and Race, 1772-1914. There was a definite mixing of cultures, during the First World War, many Afrikaners who decided to serve in Europe joining the Transvaal Scottish which wore the Atholl Tartan.

Sarie Marais, the name of a young girl, has a far reach:

Who knows what else (excluding the parodies which I’ve purposefully ignored) will come to light around this young girl who is now over 100 years old.

 

The Fear of Equality

It’s common knowledge that South African Native Labour Corps men who served in France during World War 1 were kept separated behind barbed wire fences and were not allowed to fraternise with the local populations. The men had to be supervised and controlled by white South African men who had experience of managing black labour in South Africa.

This scenario is often used to prove white South Africa’s racial tendencies.

Recently, I came across the following description:

Among other regulations, smoking was prohibited on duty and in public places. Alcohol was forbidden – except when prescribed ‘for medicinal purposes’ – and no member of the Corps was allowed even to enter an establishment which sold it. All letters were read by administrators, while a stringent system of chaperoning existed … The barbed wire fences around the camps served to keep the women in as well as the men out.

Yes, you read women, not black South African Native Labour Corps. Women, white, also denied the vote at the time were being treated in a similar way to black South African men.

The quote comes from “The Forgotten Army of Women: The Overseas Service of Queen Mary’s Army Auxiliary Corps with the British Forces 1917-1921” by Diana Shaw in Facing Armageddon: The First World War Experienced edited by Hugh Cecil and Peter H Liddle.

Isn’t it interesting how we shut off that which frightens us? We don’t want to engage with what we don’t know or fear.

Writing this I was reminded of an incident a good few years back now when I was still in almost full-time education. The BNP in the UK were looking as though they were going to do quite well in the general election and I was horrified at how colleges and others refused to invite BNP representatives to their institutions to be questioned by the students. It was acceptable to have the Labour, Conservative, Liberal Democrat and Green candidate visit and be challenged but not the group most feared. Ostensibly this was to ‘protect the students’, but what it did was increase curiosity and, at least, verbal support for the party – everything education leaders were trying to avoid.

Similarly, my initial intention as an historian was to study communism as, at school we’d been told this was what Apartheid was against. Communism was bad and our boys had to fight it. This made Nelson Mandela and others all terrorists. Other factors got in the way of my specialism, but I still hold a sideline interest in all things communist.

Today, as in years past, we continue to put people into camps until we’re sure about them – the Boer women and children, refugees, asylum seekers. Cross-dressers and others suffering from physical and mental differences get put in asylums or care centres, those who don’t follow our rules are put in prison… and yet others seem to languish because we’re too afraid to let them out having discovered they weren’t a threat to begin with.

Hiding people away and shutting them off from the mainstream doesn’t seem to me the best way of dealing with difference. Somehow we must find ways to engage – as the men working alongside the Women’s Auxilary Service and the SANLC found, we have more in common than not and together made working for a common goal more easily achievable.

Every time I experience new cultures and meet others who travel in the same way, it reinforces the need to cross barriers and engage. Understanding the ‘other’ leads (more often than not) to respect and a greater sense of community.

Von and Van – what’s in a name?

I’ve recently read two accounts of World War 1 in Africa – one a novel, Dust Clouds of War by John Wilcox and the other a memoir to be published in 2018. In both of these texts, the British Allied commander, South African Jaap (Jacob) van Deventer, has been referred to as Deventer. Both books are by British English authors who do not fully understand naming constructions.

I’m being a little harsh here – my dad had to correct me on the pronunciation of van Deventer’s name years ago. I used to call him “van de Venter” splitting his name in keeping with many other South African names: van der Merwe, van der Westhuizen etc. Put the “de” onto the “venter” and you have “Deventer” pronounced “dear-venter”. And I’ve been known to mis-pronounce other significant names too: Tighe (“Tie” for those wondering I used to call “Tigga”), Caligula (a little before my time, was pronounced “Ka-li-goo-la”) and of course Beit (should be “bite” rather than “bate”). These are easy mistakes for readers who haven’t hear the names pronounced.So, I suppose it is not surprising that authors apply what they know of one culture to another related one.

With German names, “von” is a title added to a name in much the same way “sir” is added to British names. It’s recognition and status. For the Afrikaans South African name, the “van” or “von” is part of the name translating to “of” or “from” and specifically being lower case “v” – van Deventer originates from the Dutch for someone from Deventer in Overijssel (Ancestry).

This means that when writing German names like von Lettow-Vorbeck the “von” can be safely dropped and we can talk about Lettow-Vorbeck, but we cannot do the same with van Deventer – it’s the equivalent of calling Smith, “ith”.

Another name Wilcox gets wrong in his account is Phillip Pretorius, Smuts’ lead scout. As many have done before, he incorrectly refers to Phillip as Piet. This is in the acknowledgements noting that Simon Fonthill’s escapades were based partly on Pretorius’ search for the Konigsberg. I’m also a little puzzled as to how men could have been involved in both the Boer War (11 Oct 1899 – 31 May 1902) and the Boxer Rebellion in China (2 Nov 1899 – 7 Sep 1901). There is a window between Sep 1901 and May 1902 but I’ve not come across anyone of note having moved between the theatres. (Please let me know if you know of anyone). Lettow-Vorbeck is often mistakenly said to have fought in both, but before he was posted to China, he was in the German War Office studying the actions of the Boer War to assist the German military.
Wilcox further makes the fundamental error of referring to the Smuts raiding into the Union of South Africa during the Boer War when he should be referring to Smuts’ raid into the Cape Colony. The Union of South Africa only came into being in 1910

Diversity in the military

Working through WO 132/21 on military intelligence from Delagoa Bay during the Anglo-Boer War, I came across the following figures of foreigners fighting for the Boers. The information, 19 July 1900, ‘was obtained from a well-informed foreigner recently arrived from Machadodorp; but judging by former information, it seems an overestimate.’

Germans and Hollanders – 5000
French – 2000
Russians – 1000
Scandinavians – 500
Italians – 600
Austrians – 600
Total – 9700

Diversity in war is nothing new and World War 1 in Africa was no different. In addition to the 177 micro-nations which participated in the East Africa campaign specifically there are references to Americans, Australians, Canadians, Scandinavians, Italians and Greeks. The numbers involved were not as great as those participating in 1900 but it reminds us that what might appear as a homogenous group invariably wasn’t.

Were these men mercenaries or professional soldiers? The definition of a mercenary is a person who is primarily concerned with making money at the expense of ethics, while a professional solider is hired to serve in a foreign army. Those who served in the Boer War and EA campaigns were professional soldiers although might not have received the training they needed to have.

Significantly, the Americans who served in the East African Forces and Legion of Frontiersmen did so at a time that the United States of America was neutral. The implications of this and the consequences at an international level do not appear to have been investigated. The Scandinavians generally were to be found in the Belgian Force Publique, many have been involved from before the outbreak of war. Many, however, were in the area enlisting to protect their territory or for the adventure. The numbers and extent of foreigners serving in the war in Africa is still to be fully determined.

Turn-around time?

I am absolutely fuming having just had a budget review at staff meeting at work (a primary school) where we have NO MONEY for exercise books

You’d be forgiven for thinking this was a statement by a teacher in Africa – it’s a standard complaint that there are not enough books, chalk or red pens for teachers to do their work. However, this statement appeared on Twitter by a teacher in Britain.

If this had been a statement by a school in Africa, there would no doubt be a huge rush in Britain to collect money, books and pens and rush them over to the school in question without a clear understanding of what was really required. At least this has been my experience to date. So, it was natural that when reading this tweet about a school in Britain, I immediately wondered why a school in Africa hadn’t thought to do some fundraising and send assistance accordingly.

Simply, we are products of our experiences and breaking out of the mould can be quite a challenge. African countries and institutions have become so dependent on handouts that the idea of helping themselves is an alien one even though some in those countries are far more well-off than those in the countries trying to help. It often astounds me that we turn to help others without looking after our own first. There is some logic in the flight travel advice: once you have put your own mask on, then help others.

Handouts don’t work. There’s more wisdom in ‘teach a man to fish and you feed him for life, than give him a fish and feed him for a day’. Similarly, teach a child to read and think and they can work things out for themselves rather than tell them what to think. This can be quite scary for parents but how refreshing when a youngster comes up with an innovative idea.

It’s being bold to break the mould that leads to development and improvements. This was recently reinforced when I was researching about Jaap van Deventer who commanded the forces in East Africa in 1917/18. During the Anglo-Boer War he was with a commander, General Koos de la Rey who changed the style of Boer fighting by simply moving the trenches/hideouts from the top of a hill to the open ground at the base. He used it a few times including at the battle of Magersfontein. Yet, the South Africans fell foul of the Germans doing the same at Salaita Hill in February 1916. Similarly, I’m regularly stunned by reading accounts of basic training in the SA army where men are broken down to all think and behave the same, yet within a few years are expected to be independent thinkers and rise to officer rank where some initiative is required. Some manage it, many don’t – why?

How people get to break the mould they’ve been trained in is one of my fascinations but I don’t think I’ll ever really find out how/why this happens. For now, I’ll just revel in the moments when others do break the mould and do something suprising. Perhaps a school in Africa will start fundraising for schools in Britain … I’ve learnt to never say never.