My sister, Impi, certainly lives up to her name. Determination and fighting spirit are her chief characteristics, and she is equally at home in handling wild horses or obstinate kaffirs. In addition, she is one of the best rifle shots in the Transvaal and can beat any one of her sex when it comes to a race on foot.
General Carew constituted Belfast a British base, and the countryside was raided and ravaged by the troops making it their headquarters. Hardly a farm escaped, and even to-day there are ruins that recall those dark days. But two rooms of our home in Belfast were habitable and it was in these that we lived. The main British camp was directly in front of our house, and the situation galled me. I hated the British for driving us out of Rietvlei and for ruining our home, and before long I declared war on them on my own account. What happened is a good example of the way the English treated us.
I gathered all the boys of the town, that is, the dozen white boys, and drilled them as my impi. Sibijaan, being black, was not allowed to take part in our war. I considered it beneath me to let him fight with me against other whites. We armed ourselves with stones and sticks and late at night made a concerted attack on the British headquarters, which had been established in the ruins of the local hotel.
We smashed all the windows, and the officers and orderlies came tumbling out in great haste. The sentries did not fire on us, but there was a general rush in our direction which resulted in our capture. When we were brought before General Carew, he asked what we thought we were doing. None of us could talk English and the questioning was done through an interpreter. I informed him that we were loyal Boers and had declared war on the English.
General Carew looked at me very severely and asked me if I was ready to be shot for a treacherous attack after the town had surrendered. This was a new thought for me, but I stood to my guns and defied him. However, I did not like the idea of being buried in the local cemetery where we boys had seen so many British and Boer soldiers already put away.
After a few more questions, all of them with the most serious face and a gravity that could mean nothing but evil for us, the general delivered sentence. It was that we were to be taken to the improvised mess-room and fed all the jam, biscuits, tea, and sugar we could eat! I remember that I was very proud to be given a tin of jam for myself alone. My sister, Ellen, had been one of our attacking party and she shared equally in the spoils of our captivity.