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Page 16
The patience of the missionaries in these early days was sorely tried,
and the petty annoyances, so irritating to many of us, were neither few
nor infrequent. By dint of immense labour, leading the water to it, the
ground which the chief had given the missionaries for a garden was made
available; then the women, headed by the chief's wife, encroached upon
it, and to save contention the point was conceded. The corn when it
ripened was stolen, and the sheep either taken out of the fold at night
or driven off when grazing in the day time. No tool or household utensil
could be left about for a moment or it would disappear.
One day Mr. Hamilton, who at that time had no mill to grind corn, sat
down and with much labour and perspiration, by means of two stones,
ground sufficient meal in half-a-day to make a loaf that should serve
him, being then alone, for about eight days. He kneaded and baked his
gigantic loaf, put it on his shelf, and went to the chapel. He returned
in the evening with a keen appetite and a pleasant anticipation of
enjoying his coarse home-made bread, but on opening the door of his hut
and casting his eye to the shelf he saw that the loaf had gone. Someone
had forced open the little window of the hut, got in, and stolen the
bread.
On another occasion Mrs. Moffat, with a babe in her arms, begged very
humbly of a woman, just to be kind enough to move out of a temporary
kitchen, that she might shut it as usual before going into the place of
worship. The woman seized a piece of wood to hurl at Mrs. Moffat's head,
who, therefore, escaped to the house of God, leaving the intruder in
undisturbed possession of the kitchen, any of the contents of which she
would not hesitate to appropriate to her own use.
A severe drought also set in, and a rain-maker, finding all his arts to
bring rain useless, laid the blame upon the white strangers, who for a
time were in expectation of being driven away. Probably, however, the
greatest trial at this time was caused by the conduct of some of the
Hottentots who had accompanied them from the Cape, and who being but new
converts were weak to withstand the demands made upon them, and brought
shame upon their leaders. Shortly after his arrival Moffat thoroughly
purged his little community. The numbers that gathered round the Lord's
table were much reduced, but the lesson was a salutary one and did good
to the heathen around.
A callous indifference to the instruction of the missionaries, except it
was followed by some temporal benefit, prevailed. In August, 1822, Mary
Moffat wrote, "We have no prosperity in the work, not the least sign of
good being done. The Bechwanas seem more careless than ever, and seldom
enter the church." A little later Moffat himself stated in one of his
letters, "They turn a deaf ear to the voice of love, and treat with
scorn the glorious doctrines of salvation. It is, however, pleasing to
reflect that affairs in general wear a more hopeful aspect than when we
came here. Several instances have proved the people are determined to
relinquish the barbarous system of commandoes for stealing cattle. They
have also dispensed with a rain-maker this season."
The Bushmen had a most inhuman custom of abandoning the aged and
helpless, leaving them to starve or be devoured by wild beasts; also if
a mother died it was their practice to bury the infant or infants of
that mother with her.
During one of his journeys, a few months prior to the date last
mentioned, Moffat came upon a party of Bushmen digging a grave for the
body of a woman who had left two children. Finding that they were about
to bury the children with the corpse he begged for them. They were given
him and for some years formed a part of his household. They were named
Ann and Dicky.
The importance of acquiring the language of the Bechwanas soon became
apparent to the earnest-hearted missionary. One day he was much cast
down and said to his wife, "Mary, this is hard work." "It is hard work,
my love," she replied, "but take courage, our lives shall be given us
for a prey." "But think, my dear," he said, "how long we have been
preaching to this people, and no fruit yet appears." The wise woman made
answer, "The Gospel has not yet been preached to them _in their own
tongue in which they were born_. They have heard it only through
interpreters, and interpreters who have themselves no just
understanding, no real love of the truth. We must not expect the
blessing till you are able, from your own lips and in their language, to
bring it through their ears into their hearts."
"From that hour," said Moffat, in relating the conversation, "I gave
myself with untiring diligence to the acquisition of the language."
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