“Really now? Naming the church against the trekker who donated the most? I must admit it is a good idea, but you’ll have to apologize to the man on my behalf. I won’t have such egotistic desires tainting the church. The best I can do is a simple plaque to honour him, it should please him,” Sarel blasted Jan’s ideas of the church.
He held his head in his hands and sighed.
“When is the last time you went to Church? Or have you been going to Anglican ones while in the Cape? Tsk, tsk.”
Jan could only helplessly shrug, and Sarel could only clench his fists in rage. But he took a deep breath and simmered down.
“Nonetheless, I wish only for a simple Church. I shall take the rest of the funds and began giving them out as charity to the locals. Could you ask your men to help in the construction?”
“I don’t know whether the men would be willing to work for free though, there is much work abound. Construction of the road networks to Pietermaritzburg as well improved infrastructure to the various districts needs to be worked on.”
Sarel smiled widely, but Jan didn’t think it was out of happiness. It was forced, and wrinkles could be seen jarring out on his forehead.
“I will overlook your previous transgressions against the faith. All I ask is for men to be provided. Surely, they aren’t as faithless as you. So, what are you waiting for?”
Jan nodded, and quickly organized his desk. He got up and left the room, watching Sarel looking at him leaving the room. He went to the office down next door and peeked his head in.
A farmer was scheduling his use of the new machine procured from the Belgian. Pietje was carefully writing the farmer’s name, district and date and time in a little notebook and nodded. Seeing Jan’s entry, he closed the notebook, and welcomed him in, telling the farmer that it is settled. The farmer bounced out of the room with pleasure, leaving the two men in there.
“Sarel needs some men to help in the construction of the Church, any man willing to work in it?”
Pietje snorted.
“What a stupid question! Any man would be willing to work on it! It is our duty as Boers to construct Churches in every town! Hell, I’m going to mobilize every man, from every district to get it done!”
Jan raised his hands.
“Look, I believe that is too much, call up those that are willing to work as volunteers. I don’t want to disrupt those that might be busy with various affairs. Plus, I doubt mobilizing all of them would improve construction speed by a large margin.”
“Where’s the site? Right in town? Or right beside the English church?”
“Right beside of course! How could I put the Church elsewhere?”
With shifty eyes, Pietje looked around for anyone else in the room.
“I’m sure it will be great. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.”
Sarel stood in from behind the frame.
“Of course, gentlemen. Nothing would go wrong. I would have a little chat with the pastor from the Anglican Church or urge him to relocate out of our lands.”
Willing volunteers were called out as soon as they realized what the project was for. Men descended in droves by the construction site, signing up to build the Church that they were waiting for, for a very, very long time.
Sarel organized some of his fellow devotees to organize the crew, whilst he entered the Anglican Church. Men were divided into work groups, and they were each assigned to a different task. For instance, clearing the land, laying the foundation, putting up a framework and logistics and others. Some required more work than others.
After what seemed like a long time, but Jan checked his Belgian pocket watch, 30 minutes, Sarel came out with a grin on his face. The English pastor also came out and the two men shook their hands with much glee. It was a sight to behold, and even the Boers were a little confused. But as soon as the pastor went back into his abode, Sarel’s expression became a frown.
“He didn’t want to move. Said that we wouldn’t provide charity to the elves, and he’ll do it in our stead. Those godless heathens think they deserve the same charity as we? What a joke,” Sarel grumbled, but his face reverted to the calm, wise expression he had when the Boers had something to confess.
“Gentlemen, let us get to work, hopefully we’ll get this done in a day.”
The unified Boer spirit was at work, for whilst they lived in a fashion of every man for themselves, their religion united them. Not only the men, but the women were also involved, and they handed out refreshments to the men resting between jobs. Sarel could only be delighted with the quick progress and went up to talk with the various men between shifts. No one could deny the charisma oozing out of him. His warm presence when meeting him for the first time allows one to let go and tell them everything problem they face.
It was also his passion in his work. The man loved his work, and Jan could only see him wide smiles constantly on his face as he made small talk with the farmers. He changed his tone to fit within the farmers, adding swears from time to time, the veneer of professionalism vanishing once he opened his mouth.
Informal sermons were being held, and he didn’t mind interrupting them to hear the concern of the Boer who stepped up to chat with him. It was no wonder how the man was very close with Pretorius and the various men following him. He had talent, passion, and faith.
That only made Jan wary of such a man. Get on the wrong side, and he could be quickly deposed. That man could say a word and do just that. For the brief time they spent with one another, he didn’t think the man was that petty. But he could do that.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
There was also the incompatibility in faith. The Anglicans thought if they could convert the natives to Christians, they would be equal in their eyes. The Dutch Calvinists thought differently and didn’t share the same view. In their eyes, no amount of converting would civilize the godless elf. Noah’s curse on Canaan, Ham’s son, that ‘a servant of servants shall he be’ was how they saw the elves. Their servants. These are the literal interpretations of the bible they tried to read while trekking.
He didn’t know how Sarel saw things, but he was pretty sure it was not like that. The lack of elves on his farm when he first visited was a surprise, but perhaps a good one. He needed to beat the supremacist thinking out of the Boers, and the only way to do so was Sarel. But he couldn’t walk up to Sarel and ask him about his thoughts, it would kind of rude. Wait, but he could, couldn’t he?
Sarel spent some time before walking away, deciding to take a walk around town. Jan joined him. He decided to ask directly.
“Sarel, what are your thoughts on the elves? Do you think they could be our equals?”
Sarel’s eyebrows naturally arose from the sudden question, and his face scrunched up as his mind began wandering.
“Some men think they are godless, and meant to be our servants, like Canaan. But I do not think that is the case. Every creature is equal before God. God loves its creations equally, so why are the elves any different?”
Jan didn’t know how to reply to that.
“Makes sense, I suppose.”
“It is not something I would dare say much to the men. They don’t enjoy such ideas, naturally. But I do sneak it in from time to time, in my sermons.”
He stopped, and the two took some time to silently admire the Boer side of town. They walked by the ports, where small ships ferried goods in and out of the bay. They walked by the kraals and watched the cattle. They walked along the fence, still filled with the human supremacist posters. The Zulu side of town was a view to be seen. Nature, intertwined with buildings. Vines crept up on huts, not in any parasitic nature that would ruin the structural integrity but seemed to reinforce this. Flowers could be seen dotted here and there. The vividity of the various colours and the rich plant life made him feel very poor. The lush green bushes lining up their side of the fence overshadowed the posters.
He compared the squalor of the Boer side of town with the grassy fields to the other side and felt he got the bad end of the deal. Hell, he was even tempted to move there. He felt like a very poor man.
“I must admit the other side is beautiful. Left to develop to their own devices, much beauty can be created,” Sarel remarked.
“Why thank you very much sir, I cultivated them myself,” An elf peeked over the hedge and waved at him. And of course, it was the Zulu chieftess, dressed in a simple shirt with khakis. A wide brimmed hat shielded her from the warm Elfrican sun.
“It’s a nice hedge. It’s not as if its alien, like the surface is completely smooth. Some parts were allowed to have natural imperfections blend in to avoid the uncanniness of most artificial hedges.”
She nodded in agreement, “It took some time to formulate the right combination so that it can work with Boer constructions. Seeing that it works with the fence, I believe you Boers might want some of it. Your district looks so dreary and boring. There’s also free fertilizer on the ground from time to time, always must watch your step. Yet there’s barely any life.”
“So, we can have such beauty here as well?”
“For a price! We’re not a charity! Cattle or sterling pounds? We might need a consultation or two to get what you want just right.”
Jan had a feeling that instead of private military contractors, South Elfrica will be full of private landscaping contractors in the far future. Is that a good thing?
“After the local church is done, I do not mind a couple of hedges to spruce up the surroundings. As long as its better than the Anglican Church.”
“Oh. That one? We added the various flowers and hedges around the Church. If you want to outdo that, hmm… We can discuss this after a consultation in the future, alright, I’ll need some time to think.”
The elf’s head disappeared beneath the hedge.
“I’m surprised by the sudden progress. Most of us were fooled by the squalor of the district during the initial months. To see it become like this, perhaps the fence was more of a net benefit to them than it is to us,” Jan remarked.
“They are not to be trifled with. They have abilities we lack. Only a fool would seek to exterminate them all instead of working with them,” Sarel agreed.
They came back to the construction site and watched as the framework was being completed. A simple wooden floor was placed, sourced from the Zulus and Sarel’s provisions of timber which he brought via wagon.
“It would be a shame if construction slowed if we didn’t have enough wood” was all he responded when Jan asked him about it. They could procure it from the Zulus, there was no need to do this. It was likely a political thing, so he could say the Church was constructed with Boer wood. Then again, the man made his living through the harvesting of lumber, it could also be for business reasons. Whatever the case was, he kept mum.
By the time, evening fell, walls were being put up. Men were hammering boards in place around the frame. It was getting dark, and the men were tired, so they retired from their work for the day. Jan wanted to see Sarel to a local inn, but the man refused his offer, saying that he could stay with a local Boer family. Which every man volunteered; every Boer was inviting him to their homes so that he could rest for the night.
“You know, I must ask. It would make more sense if the Commando of the town accommodated me. But I cannot find your estate, or even a farm belonging to you. So where do you live?”
Jan shrugged.
“I either live in one of the inns if I want to sleep in another place, but usually, I sleep in the office. My bed is right by my desk.”
Sarel slowly nodded.
“I see, I will then take up the charity of one of the local Boers, have a good night,” Sarel went over the nearest Boer who offered to take him in for the night, and accepted his offer. The Boer excitedly led Sarel to his farm, and the rest of the men headed home, intending to finish the construction by the next day.
That night, Jan decided to rest his head at a local inn.
The next day, after the men had their breakfast. Jan had his at a local establishment owned by a Boer. His skin was not as white as most of them. He’s a descendent of a Cape Malay slave and a Boer, resulting in his skin pigmentation. There he was served Bobotie, a dish with minced beef that is spiced that is overlaid with a baked egg. It looked like a casserole. He was served a small slice, which he purposely ordered to see if it suited his palate.
Biting into the slice, he could taste the curry powder, and he took some time to savour the mix of egg and meat with the tinge of curry. It was palatable, much more delicious than the extremely dried meats he had first tried. He ordered another slice and wolfed it down as well.
By the time he headed to the construction site, Sarel was already on site, conversing with the farmer who took him in. Naturally, it went along the lines of him thanking the farmer profusely, while the farmer humbly said that it was fine.
A roof was starting to put up, and a man was climbing up on ladders, hammering away to secure it in place. Sarel, in the meantime, began carving up a cross, a simple cross with no man on it. It was plain and simple. He was transfixed in his work, and he ensured every detail on it was taken care of. Jan decided to watch the artisan at work.
He worked until evening when he was done, and he carefully looked over the simple cross that he ensured no blemishes could be found. The surface was perfectly smooth, and he cannot, no, would not allow any splinters to tarnish its image.
Jan hasn’t really seen the need to go that far. Hell, Sarel could have easily finished it in an hour or two, but because he took his own sweet time chipping away it slowly, it became dark. Sarel took one last time to admire the cross, and personally lugged it to the front of the Church. Climbing up a ladder, he hanged it there.
Climbing down the ladder, he took a couple of steps back to admire his work. He nodded in satisfaction.
Jan didn’t see anything special. It was a work in progress. The entire building was made of wood. If he wanted any longevity, he wanted to have it be constructed in stone and cement. But with the construction of the Church, the dissenters and complainers who were uncomfortable with the lack of one could finally stop their complaining.
“I forgot one more thing!” Sarel hollered and raced back to his temporary workstation. He grabbed a plank of wood and began meticulously carving into it. After another hour or so, men had brought over candles made from animal fat to help him in his work. Sarel was totally immersed in his work and blocked all exterior stimuli.
When he finished, he produced a plate, engraved with the name of the Boer, that helped the most to finance the building of the church. He walked into the building, placed the ladder against a wall, and had it hammered.
And with that, the first Dutch church was finally constructed in Port Mpande.