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Elfrikaners
Chapter 40: Farming Machines

Chapter 40: Farming Machines

Before the Dutch ever stepped foot on South Elfrica, there was the Portuguese who circumnavigated the Cape of Good Hope. The Ottomans were the centre of trade between Asia and Europe. All the wonderous spices had to pass through them. Naturally for their role in the transaction, the Ottomans slapped a tariff on these exotic goods.

The Portuguese, not wanting to rely on the Ottomans for these Asian goods, wanted to find a direct route from sea to Asia.

A Portuguese captain, Bartolomeu Dias of three caravels was forced to make landfall in the Cape Colony after a storm forced them southwards from the Namibian coast. The man did not know it at that time, but he had just rounded the southernmost tip of Elfrica. They were the first ships of Europe.

Sparkling white sand on the beaches kept the man’s interest as he looked upon the mountain ranges. Most interesting of all to Bartolomeu was cattle grazing nearby. There were humanoids there, with pointy ears. Telling the men to lower a boat, he decided to make landfall.

The elves naturally were astounded by the fairer skin aliens making onto shore. They watched dumbfounded as the boat slowly crossed the waters to reach the land. Stepping out the boat, he did a little wave with his hand while watching their way of life. Their oxen were fat, plump, full of meat. Reed saddles were attached to them.

They stood there, watching the Europeans’ every action. Seeing a nearby spring, Bartolomeu and his men decided to refill their casks with fresh water. In the meantime, he decided to open contact.

“Hello there,” Bartolomeu spoke in native Portuguese.

Yet for some reason, they started lobbing rocks and various other knickknacks on them. They started scampering away for cover. A little furious by the reaction of the natives when he had been so kind, he reached for his crossbow and opened fire.

An elf was shot down as the bolt latched itself onto its skin. Alarmed, the other elves began fleeing with the injured in tow. Grumbling about the stupid natives, he and his men continued refilling their casks with fresh water.

This was the first contact between the natives of East Elfrica and Europeans. And was a sign of the bloodshed that would follow them all, centuries to come. An endless cycle, that will never end.

Back in Port Mpande, it took some time for the residents to move back. Empty establishments were now bustling. Mines were full of workers, even children helped pull out the black gold from underneath the dirt. The port was bustling. It was small, compared to Port Natal, but they didn’t need a large trading port.

Port Natal was for the British, an international trading hub. For the Boers, they didn’t need an international trading port with a trade Empire. They just needed a small port to ship various goods. Without railways, most goods were transported by wagons. And how much could Boers ship out, due to their decentralized nature? Of course, Port Natal had to be seized in the future, but Port Mpande served their needs fine.

“You know, I’m curious, where did all of you Zulus went?”

Jan asked. Relationships between the two groups were not well. Perceived betrayals from both parties made the communication awkward, and he dreaded communication. There were so many times they were at each other throats, he wondered how they could still sit here and talk as if nothing had happened.

“What else? We feared that the letter was a ruse. And that the Boers were planning an attack on the day itself, so we fled. We rather fight you once you’re deep in our territory.”

Because of this, misunderstanding was abounded. And that any olive branches were seen as potential threats. It cannot be helped, since so many wrongs were conducted.

“Oh.”

Jan simply commented, not wanting to divulge his side of the story.

“Now then, would you mind opening the Zulu borders for land surveying? I know some men that are good at surveying land, and they are sure that the Zulu borders are full of rich minerals. Iron, coal, copper are some examples.”

“Absolutely not! How do I know that these men aren’t agents to survey our lands so that conquests are easier for your men in the future?”

“These men are not locals. Foreigners. German rats. They don’t even look like us. They look like rats.”

“Foreigners? They do not help your case. After all the incidents between both of our peoples, how can I trust you? How can you even trust me if I was to do the same?”

“I can trust you. The Zulus did once own the land. If you said that you came here to survey the land, I can understand,” Jan sarcastically remarked.

“Let’s us not discuss this matter any further. I do not see any further progress in this.”

“Very well, let’s discuss other things. You Zulus live on this land for a very long time, correct? So, you should understand how to best grow crops? And how to rotate them as well. Would you mind sharing your knowledge with us Boers?”

Chuckling, Nokuthula replied, “Why? Don’t you Boers know everything there is about the land by now?”

“We have only been here for about a year or two, especially for those of us who came with Pretorius. It is best to hear from the original owners of the land.”

“Then you should understand how we do business. Our currency is cattle. How many cattle are you willing to offer for us to teach you our knowledge?”

“That depends. There is little to verify the veracity of the knowledge you provide. How do I know that harvest won’t become exceptionally bad if we follow your advice?”

“That depends. Are you an idiot? Will you really ask all your farmers to transition to our ways once we tell you our knowledge? A wise one would only limit it to a farm or two, or perhaps a district to test things out. And from the rumours I heard, there is recently a district full of troublemakers, that maybe you should overstep your boundaries on.”

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Jan grinned.

“Indeed. I know a certain district with some cattle that can compensate you for your time to impart the best ways to farm in these lands. These people won’t complain, I will make sure of it.”

At the port, a Belgian was asking the dockworkers to be careful with the large contraption. It was the size of a small hut, and may men had to help lift it. Attaching it to a simple pulley, they removed it from the small ship, and carefully placed it in the harbour.

“Whew,” The Belgian remarked and checked the device. It was large, and surely expensive. Jan became a little nervous once he saw it. He thought if the budget could even afford such a large machine.

“You asked if Britain got any machines to improve productivity of farms. Well then, I got some good old machinery for you. This is a threshing machine. I notice the locals grow a lot of grain. Sorghum, maize. They are perfect for this machine. Now, instead of using flails to thresh the seeds out, you just throw it into the machine, and it works,” The Belgian flamboyantly gestured.

“Why so big? I don’t think a simple farmer would need such a machine.”

“I look at you, and you seem like a smart guy. But you still ask such a dumb question,” The Belgian held his head in his hands and shook his head.

“The machines are for large farms in England. Most land gets bought by landowners. These men buy a machine or two, so they don’t have to hire too much men to thresh the grain. In your homeland, the Netherlands, the machine has seen widespread adoption due to your agrarian nature. But in the glorious Belgium, we have no need for this, perhaps except for our brothers in Flanders.”

The Belgian looked around the town and compared it with the machine.

“I tell you what, you probably only need one of this. And you probably can share it communally instead of fighting over its usage. And because you decide to do business with me instead of with the stupid English and their overpriced machines, I’ll give you a discount.”

“This machine isn’t just some cheap clone of some English machine, right? If it's like that, I don’t know how long it can last.”

“Of course not! I can give my guarantee, that such machines are used in Flanders as well. And if they have any complaints, I would have already gone bankrupt instead of coming all the way here.”

“Give me a big discount and I’ll recommend you to the other Veldkornets and Commandos to buy Belgian machines as well. I’ll need some time to test it out, but I can assure you that if it works well, you have many orders soon.”

The Belgian fell into deep thought.

“It pains my heart. The machine is so expensive! My liver! 20% discount! That’s the best I can give.”

“Voetsek! 20% discount! Give me at least 50% discount!”

“I’m very sorry. But if you were Belgian, then I can give you 50% off, the most I can do is 30%. It is really the best, especially for our old enemies, the Dutch.”

“Jou Ma se gat! What old enemies! We never got involved in your stupid affairs in Europe. You want freedom from Netherlands you can go get your freedom. Don’t come and use that excuse.”

“Alright, alright. Since you have treated me so kindly, the only Boer to do so in fact, I’ll give you a 40% discount. That is really the best. I can assure you. Only if you’re a Belgian, then I can give you 50%.”

“You say one, ah,” Jan went to the canned food workshop and called over Siebe.

“Siebe will be buying it on my behalf, so hand over the 50% discount, Belgian.”

Head of Boer Zuid Elfrica Coöperatie, Pietje Pongers watched the large machinery, and could only say, “This looks like it can accidentally kill someone. I’m kinda scared.”

“Don’t come talk so much nonsense! What kill someone! Unless you accidentally stick your hand in the wrong place! But it should be obvious where and where you should not put your itchy hand!” The Belgian ranted.

“I’ll explain how to use it. I’ll only do it once. Don’t blame me if you lose your hand or what not, ok. Now you see those two handles,” The Belgian pointed at both sides of the machines. Two wheels with handles attached to them were shown.

“Now I need two volunteers to grab each side. Start turning once I say stop. How about the gentlemen who were so afraid of this little cute machine, can you please step up!” The Belgian pointed at Pietje who gulped and took a couple of steps forward.

“And the purchaser of this machine, can you please step on the other side, thank you very much!”

Jan took the other side and grasped the handle.

“I procured some sorghum, so we will use this for demonstration. Now start turning gentlemen!”

The men began turning the wheels and the Belgian began feeding the machine with sorghum on one end.

“The goal is to beat the seat out. That’s what the machine does, the rollers beat the sorghum seeds out, what comes is the seeds. Once it’s done, then we go to the winnowing machine.”

The Belgian pointed at another machine.

“Gentlemen, could you please stop enthusiastically beating the sorghum like how you beat your wives, they had enough of your treatment!”

The Belgian grinned and scooped up most of the sorghum to feed them into the winnowing machine. Jan and Pietje let go of the machinery and went to the winnowing machine.

“We only need one man for this, so let us have the man who is so afraid of machinery to grasp the handle. I fed it, so can you please start turning.”

Pietje took the handle and began turning it. The Belgian went into his explanation.

“Sorghum, rice, or wheat has this dry protective casing known as chaff. It is inedible, but your cattle can eat it. Most of your farmers do this by hand. But like this, only one man needs to do it and you can do a month’s work in a day!”

The Belgian begin feeding the machine with threshed sorghum.

“The grains you want a heavier, so they will fall in the back. The lighter chaff will fly right in front of the machine.”

Just as the Belgian said it, Sorghum grains began gathering at the back of the machine, they were heavier. The lighter chaff flew right out.

“That was only a simple demonstration, gentlemen. But I’m sure you can see the potential of what these machines can do for you. You farmers don’t need to work so hard come harvesting season and can sit back and enjoy your harvest.”

“I’m sold,” Pietje shared the Belgian enthusiasm.

“Pietje, I hope to procure some of these for the farmers. And I want them to be shared communally. There is no need for one man to hog up the use of these machines. I hope you will be to organize timetables so that they could wait for their turn to come up before the use of these machines.”

“Urghmm… I don’t have a clock though.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so? I have a lot of Belgian made clocks. I can sell them all to you, for a good price.”

Jan grumbled.

“Aren’t the best clocks made in England? Why should we buy Belgium clocks?”

“You might as well buy Belgium since you buy Belgium machinery. Ours are cheapest. Used in the factory floors of Walloon. It has a real industrial use, unlike those British aristocrats who dance around with their stupid overpriced clocks.”

“Very well, I’ll get Siebe so we can get the Belgium discount.”

“What’s with all the machinery? It’s blowing a massive hole in the budget!” Russell complained. Due to the resignation of the bureaucrats, they had to rehire and retrain them, so the Head of Administration had to get back and do the work he normally outsourced to them.

“It’s necessary. Tell me, before we go on our excursion to ‘help’ our brothers in Transvaal. Who will be left behind? Ah yes, the women and children. Without many of the men to help on the farm, I believe these machines would help them maintain productivity whilst we are gone.”

“That leads to my second concern. Who’s going to defend the town? Are you sure these women can defend themselves?”

“I have dispatched a letter to Pretorius hoping he will be able to provide a token force to station in the town as a garrison. Worst come to worst, I have also prepared spare armaments for every woman from every household to fight their way out. There are also wagons for them to flee if it must be before Pretorius could dispatch a full force in the case of a Zulu attack. I doubt it would happen. The Zulus don’t want to violate the treaty as well. Mpande is not some warmonger after all. The Queen is also installed by us, I doubt she wants to cause much conflict.”

“If. I don’t think we can trust the Zulus to make do one the word. They do have a history of lying. Remember when Dingane said to Piet Retief that all he had to do was to obtain cattle from a rival tribe and she’ll give them lands to settle. What happened to them? They were all massacred. Men, women, and children.”

“Dingane is Dingane, Mpande is Mpande. I have done all I have could in the event of an attack. That reminds me, did your successor resign?”

Russell sighed.

“He didn’t, luckily. He was immensely furious about the rigged election, but I talked him out of it.”

“Thank you.”

“On one hand, I’m inclined to believe that what we did was wrong. But I could only think of what could have happened if the referendum results were unfavourable to us, then I wonder if we would then think that what we have done was right.”