Favourably disposed – a Groote Schuur link

I couldn’t help but wonder if Maurice Hankey, Secretary to the War Cabinet during the First World War, was favourably disposed towards Smuts because of a South Africa link.
This thought crossed my mind whilst browsing through the Cambridge College archive catalogue (Janus) for material on Africa during World War 1. Hankey’s wife’s name popped up and further investigation revealed that she had been born in South Africa

Adeline de Smidt was born in South Africa in 1882, the daughter of Abraham de Smidt and Gertrude de Smidt (née Overbeek). The de Smidt family (originally from Antwerp and Middelburg) owned the estates of Groote Schuur (Great Barn) and Westbrook under Table Mountain.

Adeline moved to the UK in 1890 – the year before Cecil Rhodes took out a lease on Groote Schuur (he bought it in 1893) and six years before the fire which gave rise to the current building designed by Sir Herbert Baker who was also involved in designing the Union Buildings in Pretoria, the Delville Wood memorial, Sir George Farrar’s house Bedford (now St Andrew’s School for Girls) and many of the old mine houses in Plantation, Boksburg which have now been destroyed.
After Rhodes’ death in 1902, Groote Schuur was bequeathed to the country as the leader’s residence which it remained until Nelson Mandela moved it to Westbrooke, now Genadendal. Another name associated with Groote Schuur, the war and London Society was Rudyard Kipling. Having befriended Rhodes, he was later to forge a working relationship with Baker designing war memorials.
Returning to Adeline, I’m not sure how much her South African connection influenced Maurice Hankey when it came to understanding or supporting Smuts – there was a great respect between the two men – but it does appear that Groote Schuur played an important part in bringing people together over time, and for that its architect is partly responsible for.

Coloured – who am I?

One of the things I love about my work is discovery. I’m constantly discovering new things – even about things I know a little about. And there’s no better way to discover something than when you have to explain what you already know to someone who isn’t sure or seeks clarification.

One such enquiry derived from a contribution to Never Such Innocence on African involvement in World War 1. A teacher making use of the resource asked for clarifiction on the use of the word Coloured to describe African soldiers from South Africa.

I can just see many non-South African readers cringing at the word. Surely I should be using ‘Mixed Race’ or some other term. No, the term is Coloured and they are a people (micro-nation) who deserve recognition and respect.

I have fond memories of mixing with the Coloured community in Reiger Park, the Coloured township in Boksburg. They had a St John Ambulance Division which my mom and others supported and taught. As a youngster I would often be a ‘patient’ for them to practise on and later, when I had passed my first aid exams we went on duty together. All this during the heady years of Apartheid when races were meant to be separate.

During the First World War, Coloured men were best known for forming the Cape Corps and served admirably in East Africa (1 Cape Corps) as well as in Palestine holding the line at the Battle of Square Hill (18-19 September 1918). They also served as ‘Cape Boys’ driving oxen and cattle during the campaign in East Africa as well as in medical and other labour capacities including in South West Africa.

Here are some links I’ve found helpful for others to understand the contribution of Coloureds to South Africa’s rich and diverse heritage.
A Profile
A 2012 film: I’m not Black, I’m Coloured – I haven’t yet seen the film so can’t comment on that aspect but it shows the term is still alive and well…
There is a lovely but heart moving film I reviewed some time back called Katrina (1969) which is available on Youtube (IMDB); which puts the community into context in terms of Apartheid but also socially – then and unfortunately still today.
Coloureds have developed their own language which you can hear a snippet (this was done for the 2010 World Cup in SA so needs to be taken in context).
And finally a piece on one of their annual festivals, the Kaapse Klopse with one of their famous songs: Daar kom die Alibama (explained)

Respect to a people still struggling for the recognition they deserve in their own country, let alone elsewhere.

Buildings – a sign of community

WW1EAfricaCampaign regularly tweets items from the East African Standard telling us about auction sales and other daily events which continued despite the war being fought a bit further south in German East Africa. It’s also been rather insightful looking into the lives of Indian (that is the sub-continent – today’s India, Pakistan and Bangladesh) settlers in East Africa and their war-time involvement. It appears to be very little. The Indians who served in East Africa were contingents which had been raised on the sub-continent specifically for service in East Africa once it had been determined they were not needed in Europe. The Indians in East Africa were building businesses and running the railways, although there is an indication in Pandit Shanti’s (1963) The Asians of East and Central Africa that a handful did get involved in wartime service.

Further south, in South Africa I’ve been working on various histories of Presbyterianism. One concerns the denomination as a whole and its position in South Africa, but another is more local – to the town I grew up in. There the Presbyterian Church building turned 100 years old on 25 November 1916 – well, that’s the date the foundation stones were laid. In the more general history, comment is made about a church in Meikle Street Johannesburg having its foundation stone laid on 20 May 1917.

I’ve often wondered about church buildings. I love the one in Boksburg. It’s an old friend – one I was baptised, confirmed and married in (and the image I use for Minority Historian). The names on the walls are family and friends. I was in St Paul’s Cathedral in the week before Easter to listen to a friend play in Bach’s St John’s Passion. A beautiful building but with awful acoustics and a little ostentatious for my Calvinist background. Then there’s Westminster Cathedral and Westminster Abbey. The former is my preferred building – the inside, at the time I last visited, still needing to be completed because they’d run out of money so the ceilings were painted black rather than be covered with colourful mosaics. Yet, the two places of worship that top my list are a tiny wooden church in a village in Senegal and one of the oldest mosques in Kenya. I happened to visit the church in Senegal one Christmas Day. The rough branches that had been used to create the structure were lopsided and the gaps between enough to allow enough light (and rain) through whilst keeping the heat of the day away. A hewn piece of wood resting on two stumps formed the communion table decorated with a jam jar filled with a few cut wild flowers. The pews were rough wooden boards resting on stumps and a goat stood on the dusty sand floor looking round the door.

The mosque was just as simple. A small white-washed rectangular building split in two – one side for men and the other for women. The building not big enough to cater for all its adherents.

Another church building I have close connections with is one in Northwood, UK. This church building was completed in 1915, the foundation stone being laid in March 1914. On the outbreak of war, the community offered the building, then a tin tabernacle as a VAD Hospital. This was accepted in November 1914 and by the time of the Battle of the Somme in July 1916, the newly constructed sanctuary was also turned over to the War Office becoming a hospital. The mother of artist Roger Hilton, Louisa Simpson, captured the interior in a watercolour she painted whilst working at the hospital where her husband was the senior doctor.

Why was there this need to continue building religious buildings during war? As indicated by WW1EAfricanCampaign’s tweets, life goes on and people in uncertain times look for sanctuary.  But is a building necessary? On a previous visit to SA, I was told by a young Malawian that his community back home was desperate for a church building. They were currently meeting under the trees. Given the poverty of the area, I wondered, what will a building help? Yes, it will provide shade, but the trees already do that… It will keep people dry if it rains, but that happens so seldom, I wonder if it’s worth the community investing the amount of money required.

Having asked the question on numerous occasions before and since my Malawian encounter, what is the purpose of a church (or equivalent), I came across an answer in Calvin Cook’s history of the Presbyterian Church of South Africa. He says, ‘Buildings are a sign of community.’ It’s a thought provoking statement. They’re a place communities can come together, passers-by recognise and assume they know what goes on in buildings of a certain look – there’s a logic behind a church building’s construction as noted in How to read a church (wikipedia; video). The same with a mosque and synagogue. The latter I was told in South Africa only being allowed if there were ten or more Jewish families in the area.

The interior often tells you much about that community – the people who contributed much to its development or who are significant to its identity. I can’t help but think of the Rand Club, set up by Cecil Rhodes and others, which has recently gone through some financial struggles and uncertainty regarding its future as a result of the mining houses undergoing various changes since the end of Apartheid. Parliamentary buildings too, tell a story about the communities they represent (or try to control). Many of these buildings are no longer fit for purpose, yet many are reluctant to see any changes – the historian in me rails against removing bits of our past – I’m often caught by visitors who say things like ‘it’s good to see there are still pews’, ‘oh, and that’s a real organ, wonderful!’ Churchill too, was reluctant to change the set-up of the British Parliament in 1945. Nostaligia reigns.

I wonder what an all-inclusive, genuinely equal, building would really look like? I already see a difference in approach: Africa vs Europe vs Asian …

Water – what a choice

A recent perusal of the George Farrar documents at the Bodleian Library, Oxford, is responsible for this posting.

Going through Mrs Farrar’s visitors’ book for 1900 (she was in Cape Town for the duration of the Anglo-Boer War while George was working intelligence for Col Brabant), I came across a dinner menu with a list of Mineral Waters. I don’t know about you, but I thought the variety of mineral waters was a recent thing but it appears not. For Mrs Farrar’s dinner, the following was on offer:

Mineral Waters:
Van Riebeck
Victoria Water
Plain Water
Boiled Water
Hot Water

This was offered alongside: Soda, Lemon, Ginger, Sherbert, Apollinaris – if you are as curious as I was regarding the last mentioned, take a look here (p17) – ending with sparklets. Curious again, I found this, and this advertising.

Compare all these waters to the alcoholic drinks on offer. There were only Wines, listed as:
Sherry White Wine, Hock* (Johannesburg 1900) and Mariani Wine.
* I wonder if this is where the term Hoggenheimer (and a bit more) came from…
Some info on Hock bottles

One can’t say Mrs Farrar was not cosmopolitan in her tastes: Spannish, German and French.

Dinner was just as intriguing so I thought I’d include it here for others who might be interested to know what a typical dinner menu looked like and what was available when a colony was at war.

Warm soup (flavour not specified),
Sardine Fish. Not too surprising as South Africa is well-known for its Sardine Run
Boiled Duck and Caper Sauce. I found a Polish and American recipe
A roast ‘Ground Hornbill‘ (caught near Trarato) – this has stumped me. The closest I came was Tarata – a New Zealand plant or a place in Bolivia
Fricasee of Owl. I assume the owl is instead of chicken?
Cold Cream. Straight forward, I think.
Snoek on Toast – clearly a South African thing. I love it!!

and NO DESSERT. My emphasis. Was this Mrs Farrar’s attempt at saving costs during a war?

It appears that Mrs Farrar became disillusioned with South Africa following George’s involvement in the Jameson Raid and after his release tried to spend as little time in South Africa as possible. However, when the 2nd Anglo-Boer War broke out, George returned to South Africa to serve (he already had investments in ERPM, the gold mine in Boksburg) and Mrs Farrar (Ella) joined him although did not seem to leave the Cape. Here she had a stream of visitors including Frank Rhodes, Lord Milner, Richard Furse and many other ‘big’ names including Margaret of Tweck and the Duke of Westminster. It didn’t look like Kitchener, Roberts or Buller popped in, although there is a letter signed by Kitchener authorising Farrar to source horses for Brabant. When the war became a guerrilla or mobile war, Farrar resigned his commission and returned to the Transvaal to rebuild his mining empire.

Encounters

I can’t believe how long it has been since my last post and I’d been doing so well having one a week. The simple reason (or excuse) is that life just got too busy with my new publishing venture, part of which includes GWAA now publishing. Spending a month in South Africa added its own complexities to the situation but what a month of encounters it proved to be.

It was quite depressing reading that the country is, according to the World Bank, the lowest on the equality rankings with the gap between rich and poor being the greatest of the countries the World Bank assesses. Also, whilst meeting people across the racial spectrum in the Gauteng area, it became apparent that not only is the economic gap huge, but so is the racial gap in the realms of employment and official positions. There is only black and other – no fifty shades of any colour. BUT despite this negativity, the people I encountered (including those in official capacities), irrespective of racial background were as open and relaxed in ways I hadn’t yet experienced in South Africa, but had in other African countries. It appears the political and social divide is also on the increase. (It made me think of our trip to Mongolia a number of years ago when we were told that the people don’t care about what happens in the political realm – they let the politicians get on with their games and just live life the way they always have. It’s probably easier to do so in a sparsely populated territory than in built up areas where people are living on top of each other.)

There had been a fair bit of concern that the election was going to result in violent outbursts – just my luck. Having been in Britain for Brexit, I was now in SA for the earth-shattering local elections. For both leading parties, neither vote went the way they expected, and having experienced the after effects of both, the people of South Africa have stood by each other in a way I haven’t yet experienced post-Brexit-vote.

On a more personal level, it was wonderful meeting up with colleagues at conferences and talks which I was involved in. The range of topics and approaches followed being refreshing: at least on this front the gap between military, social, political and other history (other than gender) is reducing. Travelling to and from the events was an eye opener. It showed how dependent one becomes on having sisters etc cart one around – having driven the roads of Johannesburg by myself regularly over 20 years ago and despite visiting it every year since, getting behind the wheel by myself and having to navigate the area proved a challenge and eye-opener.

My most incredible experience was early on missing the turn-off onto the motorway and ending up in Hillbrow – initially I wasn’t concerned. My early dating days with my husband had been in this part of Johannesburg, my sister regularly travelled through parts of it with me accompanying her to work or other events, so I felt confident I knew where I was. What I didn’t count on was Friday night traffic, the sun going down at 6.30pm, the reconfigured landscape after years of re-development and entering at a place I hadn’t been before. Now, being a lone white woman in a predominantly black area, with the reputation of Hillbrow, is not somewhere you would want to find yourself. And to top it up, I ended up on a side road, packed with taxis stopped in various positions across three lanes of traffic, car doors opening all over the place and having to drive in zig-zag fashion at walking speed. Horror story time… Time to think logically… get off the side road and back onto the bigger road where traffic was flowing. It’s Friday night and people just want to get home – they don’t care about me and as long as I look confident as though I know where I’m headed, don’t take out my mobile phone to consult Google Maps, I’ll be fine. And so it was. Heading in roughly the directions I thought I should be, I found some street names I recognised and arrived home after two hours (a journey which should have taken 45 minutes).

The remainder of the journey through Johannesburg was one of quiet reflection and observation – how certain areas made me feel more tense than others, was there a link between the amount of rubbish lying on the side of the road or not? Why/how was it that certain blocks were absolutely spotless with people sweeping the streets and pavements whilst almost across the road, the next few blocks were filthy? How many buildings which had been office blocks are now accommodation – bright gaudy colours with washing hanging out the windows and the extent to which bank headoffices had expanded. It’s clearly a city of contrasts.

Not to be outdone, I had to drive through GermistonRand Refinery looking resplendent* (1922 photo) having recently had a paint make-over contrasted with the derelection of the remainder of Germiston and opposite what was before an active mine, a squatter camp (I was told these are now officially ‘informal settlements’). Driving past this settlement, one which has a reputation for not being safe (a friend was killed there a good number of years ago dropping off a colleague), I entered a cloud of darkness – the smoke from the fires covered the road so thickly, you could hardly see 2 meters in front even with headlights on. It reminded me of descriptions of London which Charles Dickens wrote about. Past the traffic lights (robots they’re called in SA), and the air was clear again. Boksburg was next on the way, and instead of going round the outside, I thought I’d take in the old CBD (Central Business District). This was my home town. The old women’s prison is now a refuge for children and young adults (this had been the base for General van Deventer when dealing with the 1922 strike; and had seen the last women hanged in 1952). The Town Hall in its pink paint and red brick was looking cleaner than it had for years and although the war memorial had no copper left on it, it and the cannons were looking in a pretty healthy state compared to a previous visit. Vibrancy was evident even at 7pm on a Friday night in an area which would have shut down in pre-1994 years.

And so my visit went on. Encounters with the past and the present. Light and dark moments – both sides of the same coin.

On the research front, discovering death registers for the EANLC (East African Native Labour Corps) proved a huge excitement – the stories we can glean from these meticulously kept records, including the discharge and desertion registers, will be invaluable to understanding another aspect of the First World War in Africa, and in particular South Africa’s role. Watch this space, as well as the new GWAA medical project, for more on these registers.

No doubt, you’ll be reading about other encounters on this South African trip in future posts, but my experience of ‘getting lost’ in Hillbrow will no doubt stay with me for a while. On the light side of Hillbrow, I have heard (and seen) it is being cleaned up: the residents are reclaiming their rights and their streets. I wish them well – Hillbrow is one of the hearts that is South Africa.

 

*looking for a photo of Rand Refinery today (doesn’t seem to be one), I found this link which has the old Johannesburg drive-in on top of a mine-dump. Together with colleagues in 1992 we used to run up and round the drive-in at lunch-time.