Chapter 1
There is a lovely road that runs from
Ixopo into the hills. These hills are grass-covered and rolling, and
they are lovely beyond any singing of it. The road climbs seven miles
into them, to Carisbrooke; and from there, if there is no mist, you look
down on one of the fairest valleys of Africa. About you there is grass
and bracken and you may hear the forlorn crying of the titihoya, one of
the birds of the veld. Below you is the valley of the Umzimkulu, on its
journey from the Drakensberg to the sea; and beyond and behind the
river, great hill after great hill; and beyond and behind them, the
mountains of Ingeli and East Griqualand.
The grass is rich
and matted, you cannot see the soil. It holds the rain and the mist,
and they seep into the ground, feeding the streams in every kloof. It is
well-tended, and not too many cattle feed upon it; not too many fires
burn it, laying bare the soil. Stand unshod upon it, for the ground is
holy, being even as it came from the Creator. Keep it, guard it, care
for it, for it keeps men, guards men, cares for men. Destroy it and man
is destroyed.
Where you stand the grass is rich and
matted, you cannot see the soil. But the rich green hills break down.
They fall to the valley below, and falling, change their nature. For
they grow red and bare; they cannot hold the rain and mist, and the
streams are dry in the kloofs. Too many cattle feed upon the grass, and
too many fires have burned it. Stand shod upon it, for it is coarse and
sharp, and the stones cut under the feet. It is not kept, or guarded, or
cared for, it no longer keeps men, guards men, cares for men. The
titihoya does not cry here any more.
The great red hills
stand desolate, and the earth has torn away like flesh. The lightning
flashes over them, the clouds pour down upon them, the dead streams come
to life, full of the red blood of the earth. Down in the valleys women
scratch the soil that is left, and the maize hardly reaches the height
of a man. They are valleys of old men and old women, of mothers and
children. The men are away, the young men and the girls are away. The
soil cannot keep them any more.
--From publishers Simon and Schuster
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