Oor 'n spiritualiteit van vrede: Emily Hobhouse, A.D. Luckhoff en die Oorlog

As iemand my sou vra na ‘n top tien boek, sou ek ongetwyfeld Rykie van Reenen se “Heldin uit die Vreemde” baie naby aan een plaas. Ek was deur die jare heen ‘n groot bewonderaar van Rykie se skryfwerk. Behalwe vir haar loslywige Afrikaans, is haar humor altyd bevrydend en haar sensitiwiteit vir mense oorrompelend. Sy skryf oor Emily Hobhouse se besoek aan die kampe en haar desperate pogings om die mense in hul nood te help. Emily, sê Rykie, se sonde in haar landgenote se oë was nie dat sy die Boervroue gaan help het nie, maar dat sy haar met hul nood vereenselwig het en vir hulle jammer was (bl.60). Sy het, skryf Rykie op dieselfde bladsy, vir ‘n bejaarde tante, bewend van die koue (‘n tante van Pres.Kruger) haar eie onderrok uitgetrek en gegee.

‘n Paar ander gedagtes wat my aan die dink gesit het terwyl ek die referaat oor Rensche se dagboek skryf:

Die vernietiging van plase deur die Britse leër om die ondersteuning van die soldate op die front deur hul familie tuis op die plase te voorkom:

Giliomee (2004:210) notes that almost the whole of the Free State was scorched, evoking the following comments from the later General Smuts, “[Wherever] the enemy appeared, he carries out indescribable destruction. All houses are burned down, all fields and gardens are utterly destroyed, all cattle and foodstuffs are carried off and all males taken prisoner”. A year latter he visited the location again and wrote, “The horror passes description... Surely such outrages on man and nature will lead to certain doom.”

Die voorstelling van Boere deur sommige Engelse skrywers:
The innocent women and children were, in the words of a British author, seen as an “savage being(s)... hideous in form, unkempt and unwashed, violent, hypocritical, a persecutor and an assassin of the English” (Giliomee 2004:210).

En uit Dolf Britz se hoogs interessante artikel met die naam: ‘Now, what has become of our prayers and supplications?’ Faith in an Anglo-Boer War concentration camp of 1901 in Acta Academica 39 (2007) die volgende verhaal oor die dagboek van die latere bekende Ds. Adriaan Luckhoff. Luckhoff het tydens sy bediening in die Bethulie kamp totaal ingegee oor die ellende en lyding wat hy daar beleef het. Hy skryf oor die vreemde pre-okkupasie van mense met doodsbed-tonele en “verwyt” homself amper as hy self die volgende toneel beskryf (Luckhoff skryf sy hele dagboek in Engels):

From there called by Mrs. Van den Berg to new ward, to come quickly, as Lenie was dying.109 I went, and when I entered saw that God was going to take her away. Let me not attempt to describe her angelic little face of marble white, her beautifully chiselled nose, and her sweet little mouth! Silently we knelt around her bedside — mother, nurse and I. Of her beautiful blue eyes I have said nothing, for they were closed — the lids gently drawn, and the lashes trying hard to kiss the soft smooth cheeks. ‘O God, come and help us! O Saviour, come and take Thy place beside her bed — hold her hand — take her in Thy tender arms and press her against Thy bosom! Bear her, Saviour, where Thou wilt, for with Thee she is safe. Comfort our hearts and give us to bend our heads in humble resignation — Thy will be done. Amen!’ ‘Lenie, Lenie, Lenie, mij kind, jou mammie is hier bij jou, en Jezus ook is hier om jou hand te hou — moenie bang wees nie, mij kind.’ Under her weary eyelids she looked at us, and a large tear gathered in her left eye. It glistened like a diamond for a moment, and then became the possession of the sorrow-stricken mother. Then we were silent and watched. Slowly and gently the lids opened — now again we could look into those clear blue orbs. Wider — wider — and still wider they grow — uplifted, right away beyond the three forms of clay before her. See how the pupils dilate — they seem to swamp the blue! And so for a few short moments they remain. It was a gaze right beyond us to — what! Will it be old-fashioned to suggest ‘Angels’, perhaps! Until I grow wiser I shall hold fast to Angels. O, the mystery of the Unknown! And slowly, gently, those lids sink once more to rest — to rest indeed — for her spirit has fled — perfect peace! How passing strange, how majestic in its simplicity, how weird in its strange stillness — the passing of a Soul — the disunion of Body and Spirit! Is this Death? Then may I never fear its shadow! Sunset and Evening Star!

Oorlog is walglik. En om te dink dat die Boere oorlog vandag deur sommige beskryf word as een van die onnodigste oorloe ooit (is dit nie wat baie deesdae van die grensoorlog skryf nie?).