The first-ever general mobilization was called, and all men were assembled by the artillery pieces. They were holding drills in using it, loading blanks before firing. Cannons echoed throughout the town.
Sitting in a wagon, Jan silently watched the man hold the drills. They were nervous, and the Zulu horde slowly massing on the other side didn’t help to calm their nerves. He didn’t think any of them wanted to fight and wanted to focus on their homesteads instead. But because of a few naughty apples, the whole tree must be axed.
It was a corporal in a remote district by the Zulu border. The sight of cattle moving about, munching on the grass seared into his mind as the wagon stopped by the district. Getting up, the corporal recognized him and immediately sauntered over to him.
“Commando, it is pleasure to see you here!” The corporal began sucking up to him in Elfrikaans. If it was any other situation, he would be worried about the dagger behind his back. But it was obvious why.
Zulus wanted blood. They couldn’t settle this diplomatically. Giving cattle back is blood money, which is something they would never accept. It was obvious what will appease them, throwing these men under the curb as well as some reparations of cattle.
“Tell me the reason behind the cattle raid. I have not authorized such a raid. So please enlighten me why you conducted such an operation?”
The corporal stammered, turning to see the vast cattle in his ranch to regain his confidence.
“The Zulus conducted various raids on our lands. I decided not to report it to you because we thought we could handle it ourselves. So, we decided to take back our cattle by force, teaching them a lesson at the same time!”
Jan stoically looked to the corporal to see if he wanted to change his story, but the corporal had nothing to add.
“I apologize that we escalated it in such a manner. Hopefully, you would help resolve this for us.”
The corporal was no doubt confident. He couldn’t throw them to the curb, what kind of leader would he be if he threw them to the Zulus?
He spent a couple of hours talking with the newly wealthy residents of the district. The kraals were full of cattle, and the children joyfully ran about, playing in the fields. He grimaced, knowing what was to become of these children if he carried out what he thought was right.
The corporal introduced him, and the residents were all cheery, the thought of throwing them to the dogs never crossed their minds. And they treated him well, no doubt as a silent plea, to not abandon them.
He cut his visit short, finding it uninformative, and the corporal enthusiastically bid him goodbye.
“The only decision I could think of was to send them all the Zulu. Let them choose what they wish to do with these men. It is the right decision and the only one that they will accept. The women will become widows, and the children will become fatherless, but we must do what is right,” Jan coldly explained.
“The only problem is that such a decision will immediately be opposed by the Boers, seeing it not more as a submissive move. Then we may have to deal with another revolt.”
Jan looked towards the window. The port’s bay was filled with small ships, devoid of life. What once was filled with merchants ferrying their goods from smaller ships to bigger ones became a lifeless dead zone. Every merchant already fled, leaving only the Boers to resolve the issue by themselves.
Every merchant already intuitively knew that the town would likely be laid siege and scurried away to avoid the aftermath. The Boers were all alone, like they always were, politically.
“Pretorius has pledged his support in the event of a Zulu attack if the Zulus dare to escalate this, it will be considered the outbreak of war. The treaty made with Queen Mpande will be considered violated by the Zulu. And every Boer throughout the region will be mobilized,” Russell explained, holding a letter that came a couple of days later.
“The problem is… the weapons we supplied to the Zulu. They aren’t going to have spears and whatever magic they have. They will firearms and artillery. This ain’t going to be pretty or bloodless.”
“I doubt they will be able to do much. They have little experience with them. We have a lifetime of experience with firearms, surely, we can outmatch them.”
“No, trying to hold the Port is a horrible decision. We should fall back to Pietermaritzburg and let Pretorius lead the attack to seize back the port. We are heavily outnumbered, and we should not try to fight to the death. I rather fight when we have the support of the other Boers.”
“Still, it’s the worst-case scenario. The Port Mpande project will be over if things turn out like that. And all of our efforts will be wasted.”
Jan nodded.
“Draw up plans for an evacuation. Notify every corporal to get their family out of here. I cannot guarantee peace, but I won’t allow for unnecessary casualties. The Zulus have slaughtered women and children once, they’ll do it again.”
It was the roadblock. The way to peace resulted in his position being lost. The way to war also will result in his position being lost. He held hopes that the Zulus were buffing. They were escalating it as a show of strength, but what was likely to happen was a retaliatory cattle raid by one of the Zulu chiefs. But that would also result in a full-blown war due to his obligations as Commando.
He had to throw the men to the curb, but he didn’t want the Boers to turn against him for doing so. He needed to somehow shift the responsibility of deciding the fate of the troublemakers to someone else, so the Boers won’t turn on him. Hmm… Pietje was elected, wasn’t he?
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What if, he held a referendum, and let the people of the town decide? But the close-knit Boers will not choose to have their brothers thrown to the Zulus. The rural farmers will all vote in that direction. While the minority of the town's urban dwellers would vote the opposite. But the farmers… they can’t read or write, right?
If he were to hold a referendum, he couldn’t show what people voted for. He needed to hide what people voted from everyone, then he could obfuscate the results to his liking. That means he couldn’t summon the men and asked them to raise their hands in a vote.
A plan began to formulate around a polling station, one that is rigged to his desire.
Making a small sketch on the piece of paper, the top read, “I support the extradition of the Boers to the Zulu.”
The bottom read, “I do not support the extradition of the Boers to the Zulu”. Boxes were put beside these words.
He used complicated words like ‘extradition’ to confuse the farmers that could read. With the confusing ballot paper, he needed to also spread the message to the illiterate farmers that they needed to tick the top part if they didn’t want to throw their brothers to the Zulu. There was the issue that some of the urban dwellers might be confused by the word, and they might tick the top part as well.
Tapping his finger on the table, he could always rig the results. No matter what people chose, he could just choose the result he liked the best. He then shook his head. No, the farmers will be unlikely to trust the results if they did not have a representative counting on their behalf.
Most important of all was the polling station, he couldn’t show the ballot to anyone so that they wouldn’t notice his actions. A bureaucrat was to be stationed outside of the voting area, which will be enclosed so no one can see what they voted for. The Boer will likely ask which one they ought to tick for their cause, and the bureaucrat will tell them to tick the top. Mix and match from time to time so people don’t get too suspicious.
Jan snorted. A fierce supporter of Democracy in real life, and here he was intending to rig the results in his favour, how the tables turn.
“We will vote on the matter,” Jan conveyed his decision to the various men gathered in his office. Veldkornet Pietje was stunned by the representative of the landowners, Hein.
“I hope you will spread the word and notify your respective people to inform them of this. It will be held by the end of the week. Further information will come before the day of polling. It will be decided with a ballet.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Most of the farmers can’t read! And you telling me that you think that they can choose what they want out of a ballet?” Pietje complained.
“A bureaucrat will be stationed outside the station. They would have to swear an oath beforehand, and they will truthfully help the Boer inside to obtain the result they wish.”
“I see, on the bible?” Pietje replied, satisfied.
Jan nodded.
“I think this is a good choice, since this decision affects all of us, it would be good to let us have the choice of how we want things to end,” Hein remarked.
Making some small talk, the two men left soon after. But before Russell had a chance of leaving, Jan called out, “Wait.”
Russell stopped in his tracks.
Smirking, Jan explained, “We have many things to discuss.”
Jan explained his plan to rig the referendum in his favour. They were going to exploit the farmers with a complicated ballet. The bureaucrat who was supposed to swear an oath won’t even do one in the first place and will just be said to make one privately. And before the ballet box goes to the farmers for verification of the results, they would first check if the results are what they want. If it isn’t, they would dump fake votes in their favour or just toss some out.
“So, this whole thing is a sham. A sham so that the people won’t come after you for making the decision you already intended to make.”
Jan nodded.
Russell held his head in his hands.
“Yikes, this is… rather extreme. Aren’t most of our bureaucrats Dutch Protestant? They are likely extremely religious; I don’t know how you plan on getting them onboard with the idea.”
“Don’t get them to man the polling station. Get someone that is not Dutch, preferably an Englishman to man the polling station. Perhaps you’re a suitable candidate.”
“I don’t know, but it is rather sacrilegious. Especially in a world where Gods are real, I fear the consequences of doing something like this.”
“If you don’t make an oath, why would the gods punish you? If anything, they would just let it be. They have many other things to keep track of than this small thing.”
Russell only shook his head.
Jan sighed.
“Alright then, I suppose that idea is out. I too don’t want to mess with Gods since an oath is involved. Then all we have left is the ballot paper. We will have to make it so misleading that even the bureaucrat helping the Boer out will not be able to let the Boer pick what he wants.”
An idea popped into his head. There is no reason to give a voter the chance to oppose. And it's not as if the bureaucrat is lying if he told them to choose the box to abstain from in the first place.
He redrew his sketch of the ballet ticket.
On the top was ‘I support the extradition of the Boers to the Zulu’.
The bottom said, ‘I abstain’.
Two simple choices, and if the bureaucrat honestly decided to help out the Boer, all he could say was to tick the bottom box. There were many reasons one wanted to abstain, whether it is out of opposition to neutrality. For those who opposed his measures, all they could do was to turn in either a blank vote, or tick abstain. As he had mentioned earlier, the referendum was rigged from the start. He was going to get his peace whether his people wanted it or not.
Explaining his thoughts to Russell, his lead bureaucrat admitted that it was a decent idea. But he asked about the few literate farmers.
“Let’s say they know what the word ‘abstain’ means. And let’s say they know the connotation for abstain. An example would be Pietje who recently learned how to read and write, what to do about them?”
“It’s very simple, tell them if they agree with none of the choices, they can not choose to tick any of the boxes. Either way, a blank ballot is considered an abstention. Most of these farmers will want to have their voices heard, so they would tick a box. Either box they tick, I win either way.”
Tsk. Tsk.
Russell clicked his tongue, admiring the strategy.
“I like it. But tell me about this secret ballot thing. I don’t understand.”
“Think of it as a parcelled-out section of a room where there are opaque panels so you can’t see into that section. The ballet box will be placed there, locked so no one can tamper it. The voter will receive a pen and a ballet paper,” Jan showed the draft made on the piece of paper, before adding on, “They will put a cross on the section they support and put the paper in the box.”
“That is all they are required to do. And since our dear bureaucrats are oath-bound to help the voters out, they can’t tamper with the election even if they wish to do so.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. Some of these men likely don’t share the same views. So, once they catch a glimpse of the ticket, they’re going to blabber their mouths about how unfair the referendum is.”
“Have them vote last. Right after everyone has voted. Then they can see the ticket with their own eyes. And since they are oath-bound not to disrupt the referendum processes, it's too late for them to change anything. They can complain all they want afterwards, but technically, they did vote for it.”
“So, where should we set up such a station?”
“Since everyone is mobilized and in town, we will hold one right by the town hall. I hope that the administration will be able to organize things smoothly.”
“We sure will.”
Bibles were procured. Boers with some prior experience in carpentry were temporarily dragged away from their stations to carve nice wooden panels right by city hall. A local printing press in the town hall began churning out those ballet tickets which were kept under lock and key to prevent anyone from catching a glimpse of them.
Orders were given to the Veldkornets, who relayed them to their subordinate corporals. They were going to hold a referendum, the gist of it was that they decided how things would end. Whether they would sell out their fellow Boers or appease the Zulus depend on what they crossed out in the ticket. They were questions raised about the ballot paper, but their concerns were assuaged once they heard the bureaucrats are oath-bound to help their every need during the referendum.
Instructions given to the bureaucrats differed from the ticket’s contents.
The top supported the extradition.
The bottom does not support the extradition.
Thus, from there, the voters shouted out what they wanted, and the bureaucrats calmly explained what they needed to do. It was such a simple task, that the bureaucrats thought nothing of it. Surely it will be a simple arrangement.
Then come voting day, and things went to hell.