Eyes in the Republics
The early light of dawn painted the ZAR’s rolling plains in gold, but Pieter van der Merwe’s mood was far from bright. He rode with Koen and a small party of burghers along the dirt road toward the nearest town, their horses kicking up dust that glimmered in the sun. “The reports were accurate,” Pieter said grimly, breaking the silence. “British inspectors have arrived at the ZAR border, claiming they are here to ensure ‘order’ and ‘compliance.’” Koen’s face darkened. “Compliance? Our laws, our courts, our councils… they come to check and dictate? After Natal, after the blood we shed to survive, they send eyes to spy on us?” Pieter nodded. “Yes. And the newspapers—oh, Koen—they prepared their people back home to see us as nothing more than primitive farmers. They call us unfit to govern
- Writer
