Father and Mother

Anna Maria Retief de Villiers’ School Days

Mother lost her mother at the age of three. After her father’s death around 1876, Daniël Gabriël de Villiers and Benjamin Thomas Pritchard were appointed as trustees, and Mother went to live with her uncle at Matoppo House. He imported a governess from England to ensure the children learned English. She also taught them a little French, but what was considered particularly important for the girls was “good manners” (deportment). A key aspect of this instruction involved learning the proper attire for various occasions.

In 1861, the year Dad was born, there were seven private schools in the district. Three of the teachers were Dutch, including Mr. Van der Bent—Dad’s teacher—three were Afrikaners, and one was a Briton. The first school in the town was the Orange Grove School for Girls, founded in 1874, with Miss Anne Murray Wilson, who had been brought from Scotland, as its head. The school struggled financially, as the land had not yet been paid for, and an application for assistance from the Department was rejected by Dr. Dale. Miss Wilson persevered for a year but eventually resigned.

In 1876, during a visit to the United States, Dr. Andrew Murray successfully recruited Miss E.A. Cummings as a teacher for the Orange Grove School. She became Mother’s first real teacher. When I was a child, Miss Cummings was still alive—old, small, and bent—but to me, she was a beautiful old lady. Mother later attended a seminary in the Boland for further education, but Miss Cummings always held a special place in her heart as a “hot favourite.” At Orange Grove School, religion (devotions) played a central role, which was not the case in State schools.

Mother never formally learned Dutch at school. She had to rely on the old Dutch Bible, and after her marriage, she continued to use Afrikaans as her home language. Over time, Afrikaans largely replaced English as her preferred reading material, especially with the availability of Die Burger and Afrikaans books. However, she and her sisters continued to correspond exclusively in English. The English influence of her upbringing was initially strong. For instance, she was deeply saddened when English church services were abolished, but after the Anglo-Boer War, her loyalty to the Afrikaner cause never wavered.

Mother and her sisters’ correspondence was always in English. At school they never learned “Dutch”. In 1935 our sister Bessie died and Mother also received a letter from Aunt Maria (her younger sister who was married to Father’s older brother Stephanus). I quote a section of it to show how the English had to struggle with the language of the old State Bible:

My dear Annie & Peter,
Yes, really it was a surprise to receive the sad news. We do feel with you, as twice we went through the same experience. It is an experience no one can understand except God who can comfort and give strength. Because I know in my own experience that not the truest friend or the sweetest word on earth can releave the sorrows. I often could say (als Job: Och of my verdriet recht gewogen wierde en men myne ellende samen in eene weegschaal ophieve, want het zou nu zwaarder syn dan het zand der zeën). God can give you strength to bear the burden and I am sure you will taste God’s sweetness in your sorrows.

Writing about Father and Mother is not easy. It is difficult because they were your parents, difficult because it is hard to put the time in which they lived into perspective within today’s world, and difficult because, by the time I truly got to know them, they were already in their “old age,” so to speak. When I was 15 years old, Mom was already 60, and Dad was three years older. People in those days seemed to age faster than they do today. Their hardships were of a different nature than the ones we experience now. Yet, both lived to a remarkable old age—Dad to 85 and Mom to 86.

In his younger years, Dad had to undergo a knee operation, and medical procedures back then were far more challenging than they are today. As a result, his leg was so weakened that he could barely manage without a cane. He was not as physically strong as his brothers, though he was not sickly either. If Mom had not sometimes insisted that he stay in bed, we might never have known when something was troubling him.

School and Church

Dad received his education on the farm from their private teacher, Mr. Van der Bent. One of the latter’s sons, M.M. Van der Bent, was the organist of the Dutch Reformed Church in Beaufort West from 1912 to 1914. Dad and his brothers likely inherited their love for singing and music from their teacher. This explains their ability to sing beautifully in harmony and read musical notation. At home, Dad typically started reading from Genesis and continued through to Revelation. When it came to the Psalms, however, we often struggled, as the tunes were unfamiliar to us. Mom also found this difficult, and in those moments, Dad would sing alone, almost as if performing a solo.

Dad’s inspiration for studying the Bible likely came from both his parents and his teacher. In his younger years, he greatly enjoyed Die Patriot and Ons Kleintjie. In later years, he read Die Burger from cover to cover. Rev. S.J. du Toit’s writings had a strong influence on him, though he was always certain about which aspects he disagreed with. He and Mom also read other works, such as those by Dr. Andrew Murray, but his main interest was not in books about the Bible—it was the Bible itself. His memory was remarkably sharp. He could quote countless texts—not just familiar verses, but ones that were interconnected and built upon each other. He never neglected home devotion. A chapter would be read aloud, followed by prayer and then a Psalm or hymn. He and Mom would often hold their own early morning church service in their bedroom, sometimes both taking part in the prayer.

Mother also observed her “quiet time” most Sunday afternoons. She especially loved reading old copies of The Monthly Messenger, which had been sent to her by her “Aunt”—the wife of Daniël Gabriël de Villiers. Over time, the pages became loose and worn, but she continued to cherish them.

Father loved reading books about history, but he also enjoyed works by J.H.H. de Waal, Van Bruggen, C.M. van den Heever, and especially Langenhoven. Mother’s preference was always novels—but only if the story had a “happy ending.” The protagonists had to find each other and live happily; otherwise, she wouldn’t enjoy the book. She and Dad disliked irreverent, coarse language or anything vulgar. However, she faced a dilemma when a book had a happy ending but also contained crude language. Her response would be: “This is a very nice book. There are also some unjust words in it, but I skip those.” This tendency—especially among older readers—was reflected in our library. Many of the books were printed in large type, and references to the Supreme Being were often crossed out or enclosed in brackets.

When our parents could no longer attend church services in person, they listened to them on the radio. For this, they would dress in their “Sunday clothes” and participate in the service with their Bible and hymn book in hand. Mother even ensured the collection box was ready, and from time to time, the proceeds were handed over to the deacon.

The Anglo-Boer War

The Anglo-Boer War brought bitter consequences for the inhabitants of Beaufort West. Although far removed from the battlefields, a deep divide arose between Afrikaners and, particularly, Anglo-minded Afrikaners. Some farmers suffered heavy losses—a few, like Dad, lost everything.

At the time, our parents were living on a farm in the Nuweveld Mountains. To guard the mountain pass, the English built a fort at the top, and our parents’ farm was the closest one to it. The fort was manned by a group of men from the Town Guard, who were known for their ruthlessness. One day, they arrived and arrested Dad in a particularly harsh manner. He had been tending cattle in the fields when Mom was suddenly confronted by the leader, who coldly declared, “Where’s your husband? Today, I’m going to shoot him dead.”

Mom, terrified, walked among them until she spotted a white man and asked him in English what was happening. He whispered reassuringly, “Lady, don’t worry. He has no right to shoot your husband.”

I am not certain of the exact distance between the farm and the town, but I estimate it to be at least 40 kilometers. They forced Dad to walk all the way—ahead of the horses. Given his weak leg, the journey must have been especially grueling for him.

They also ordered our eldest brother, who was 14 years old at the time, along with two Coloured men, to accompany them—apparently to extract corroborating evidence for the charge. My brother told me that when they had traveled some distance, Mother came after them, carrying a bundle of blankets and something to eat. He was immensely grateful, especially since he was confined to a room with the two Coloured men.

The place of detention still stands today. It is a stone-built, two-storey house directly opposite the Royal Hotel in Donkin Street. In my time, it was an ordinary house with an annex that served as a separate residence called Clyde House.

Father was charged with providing shelter and lodging to Boer soldiers. He was detained for three months and had to appear for trial multiple times, but his guilt was never proven. The unwavering stance of the two Coloured men is remarkable—they never yielded and consistently maintained that the charge was false. One can only imagine the immense pressure they endured.