Whispers on the frontier
304 Words
Pieter rode homeward the following morning, the mountains casting long shadows across the track. At each farm he passed, he saw signs of tension: men sharpening wagons, repairing rifles, tightening fences.
News travelled fast.
Farmer Brink, an older man with a thick grey beard, waved Pieter down.
Brink:
“They say the British will impose new grazing taxes. They say they want to register our land again—under their names.”
Pieter’s jaw clenched.
Pieter:
“So it begins.”
Brink nodded gravely.
Brink:
“You spoke with the Captain yesterday, né? What did he say?”
Pieter:
“He spoke as one who believes he is teaching children.”
Brink spat into the dust.
The resentment in the air felt almost electric.Far to the east, Koen returned to his village to find an equally uneasy mood.
Women were packing stores of grain. Young herders were pulling cattle closer to the kraal for protection. The elders sat under the shade of the umthi tree, speaking quickly in low voices.
Elder Nkosinathi:
“Koen, you bring news?”
Koen sat cross-legged beside them.
Koen:
“The English expand their boundary again. They will call it law. But to them, law means our land becomes theirs.”
The oldest woman in the village, Gogo Lindiwe, struck her walking stick on the earth.
Gogo Lindiwe:
“We have lived through Dutch traders, missionaries, wars with rival clans… but these English speak as though the world was born the moment they arrived.”
The younger warriors murmured agreement.
Koen:
“The Boers too grow restless. Their land is being taken the same way.”
Nkosinathi gave a slow nod.
Nkosinathi:
“When two men pushed into the same corner see each other clearly… they may begin as enemies but end as allies.”
Koen thought of Pieter.
- Writer
