The wars and the Union_(1899_1910)
766 Words
I. The Storm Approaches
The sun rose high on gold-strewn lands,
Where Afrikaner heart and hope still stand.
Yet shadows crept from empire’s might,
As British forces eyed the fight.
The veldt was calm, yet men could hear
The drums of war, both loud and near.
For riches buried deep below,
Would spark the wrath no man could know.
The Boer republics, proud and free,
Prepared to guard their liberty.
The Transvaal, strong in law and creed,
And Free State too, for righteous need.
Their farmers, soldiers, sons of God,
Took rifles, wagons, ploughs, and sod.
The veldt would witness true courage,
As Afrikaners, their fate would be.
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II. The First Shots
In October of eighteen ninety-nine,
The first gun boomed, a deadly sign.
Mafeking, Ladysmith, and Kimberly lay,
Under siege where bullets play.
The British marched with banners high,
But Afrikaners would not comply.
They dug their trenches, formed their laager,
Their faith is a shield against the dagger.
The veldt became both home and tomb,
Yet hope still blossomed through the gloom.
Families hid where oxen trod,
While men stood firm with God and the rod.
The horses thundering, the rifles’ roar,
Echoed across the dusty floor.
And though the empire seemed immense,
The Boers replied with skill and sense.
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III. Laager and Guerrilla
They circled wagons, fired at night,
And fought with cunning, skill, and might.
Their women baked and healed the sick,
Their prayers were fast, their courage thick.
The British, strong with the empire’s hand,
Found Afrikaans soil hard to command.
For every hill and every stream,
It was known to those who dared to dream.
Yet siege and hunger took their toll,
The Boer would fight but not the whole.
The scorched earth burned, the cattle fled,
The farmers wept for loved ones dead.
The empire’s might seemed cruel, vast,
And yet the Afrikaner held fast.
Their faith, their fire, their stubborn will,
Could bend no more, could bow no longer.
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IV. Women and Children in the Fires
The war brought pain to hearth and home,
Where fields lie waste and cattle roam.
But women bore the brunt unseen,
In camps where horrors lurked between.
They cooked, they sewed, they healed the weak,
Their courage is strong, their faith is unique.
The children learned of loss and fear,
Yet grew in hearts that knew no tear.
The veldt became a crucible,
Where ordinary lives grew full
Of steadfast hope and silent prayer,
A testament to those who care.
And in each laager, tent, and hill,
The Afrikaner endured the illness.
For though the empire seemed to reign,
Their spirit would not break in vain.
V. The Bitter Years
By 1902, the war had burned,
And Afrikaner hearts had deeply learned
That freedom comes with cost and pain,
That loss is etched in every vein.
The Treaty signed, the British stayed,
Yet farms lay waste, and hopes were delayed.
Yet still the people, faith their guide,
Resolved to rise, restored in pride.
The veldt was scarred, the rivers dry,
Yet children’s laughter reached the sky.
They rebuilt homes from ashes cold,
And sowed the fields with seed and gold.
Their psalms returned, their hymns renewed,
Their faith in God and self-pursuit.
For though the war had taken toll,
It strengthened the Afrikaner soul.
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VI. The Road to Union
The British rule is now firmly set,
Yet Afrikaners would not forget.
The call for unity, for law,
Would see a nation’s birth in awe.
By nineteen ten, the Union came,
Four colonies one, under one name.
Cape, Natal, Transvaal, Orange Free,
Bound now in hope and destiny.
The Afrikaner, wary yet wise,
Saw both a challenge and a prize.
They joined the parliament, their voice,
To guard their language, faith, and choice.
Though the empire’s shadow remained,
Their spirit, hardened, had not waned.
From war’s deep fire, their nation grew,
And Afrikaner life began anew.
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VII. Faith, Land, and Legacy
Their churches stood, their farms restored,
Their people healed, their lives improved
A future bright, yet mindful still,
Of struggles past and iron will.
The veldt, the hills, the open plain,
Were they once more, though some in pain.
And in their hearts, a quiet flame,
That Afrikaner would keep his name.
Through war, through loss, through empire’s hand,
They claimed their faith, their soil, their land.
They sang their psalms by candlelight,
They dreamed of peace and fields in sight.
The Union born, their laws combined,
Yet the Afrikaner soul defined
By toil and prayer, by blood and strife,
Prepared to guard both land and life.
- Writer
