ABO Spioen – Maria Koopmans-De Wet
deur Marthinus van Bart
Maria Koopmans-De Wet (1834-1906) was lid van ’n prominente Afrikaanse gesin in Kaapstad. Haar vader, Johannes de Wet, LL.D., was ’n advokaat en waarnemende voorsitter van die Kaapse Wetgewende Raad. Hierdie gekultiveerde, welbelese en hoogs intelligente vrou het by almal respek afgedwing, maar sy is ook gevrees deur Cecil John Rhodes en sy dampkring: Rhodes het haar die gevaarlikste persoon in die Kaapkolonie genoem, “selfs gevaarliker as Onze Jan Hofmeyr van die Afrikaner Bond”. Vanweë haar skerp intellek en welsprekenheid was sy ’n gedugte opponent van Rhodes.
Toe Rhodes ’n deel van die Kasteel wou sloop om voorsiening te maak vir ’n tremspoor na Seepunt, het sy hom teengestaan. Hy het teengestribbel dat dit net ’n klein puntjie van die vesting was wat afgebreek sou word. Maria het teruggekap: “Mnr. Rhodes se neus is net ’n klein puntjie aan sy gesig. Laat hy dit afsny en dan in die spieël kyk hoe dit lyk.”
Ook het sy gekeer dat ou akkerbome in die Kompanjiestuin afgekap word om plek te maak vir ’n nuwe hooggeregshof tussen die Parlementsgebou en Tuynhuis. Dit is later tussen Keeromstraat en Koningin Victoriastraat opgerig.
Maria was ’n leidinggewende organiseerder van massa-protesvergaderings teen die Anglo-Boereoorlog, die verskroeide-aarde-taktiek van die Britse leër, die konsentrasiekampe en die verbanning van Boere-krygsgevangenes. Die Britse militêre owerhede het haar gebrandmerk as synde ’n Kaapse Rebel, en die Empire-gesinde koerante het haar die skeldnaam “Koningin van die Rebelle Dames” gegee. Nadat die krygswet in Kaapstad afgekondig is, is sy in huisarres geplaas en haar woning aan Strandstraat 23 is daagliks deur die militêre polisie deursoek.
Hoewel sy dit nooit bevestig het nie, was sy inderdaad een van die hooforganiseerdes van ’n Boere-vrouespioenasienet, met die bynaam die “Kappie Kommando”, wat aan die Boere se geheime diens, Speciale Diensten der Z.A. Republiek, in Pretoria verslag gedoen het. Toe die militêre polisie se speurders op ’n dag onverwags opdaag om Maria se woning te deursoek, was sy juis by haar werkstafel met spioenasiebriewe besig. Sy het haar naaldwerkmandjie, wat ook op die tafel was, geneem en aan die speurders gegee met die sarkastiese opmerking dat hulle dit nog nie deurgesoek het nie. Hulle was toe so verleë, dat hulle die inkriminerende briewe voor haar skoon misgekyk het.
Maria het ook nou met Emily Hobhouse, verskeie bystandkomitees – sommige ook in die buiteland – asook die Rooi Kruis saamgewerk om geld in te samel vir die aankoop van kos, medisyne en klerasie wat na die konsentrasiekampe en die krygsgevangenekampe versprei is. Die proviand is in haar woning verpak en van daar versprei. Sy het gereeld met vooraanstaande Britse pro-Boer intellektuele, soos William Stead, gekorrespondeer.
Die neoklassieke Koopmans-De Wet-woning, ontwerp deur Louis Michel Thibault, is ’n verklaarde gedenkwaardigheid. Na Maria se dood op 2 Augustus 1906 is die huis in ’n 18de-eeuse huismuseum verander en dit bestaan steeds so voort.
Anglo-Boer War Spy – Maria Koopmans-De Wet
by Marthinus van Bart
Maria Koopmans-De Wet (1834-1906) came from a prominent Afrikaans family in Cape Town. Her father, Johannes de Wet, LLD, had been both an advocate and an acting president of the Cape Legislative Council. This sophisticated, erudite and highly intelligent woman was respected by all, but – in addition – feared by Cecil John Rhodes and his henchmen. Rhodes called her the most dangerous person in the Cape Colony, ‘more dangerous even than Onze Jan Hofmeyr of the Afrikaner Bond’. Owing to her sharp intellect and eloquence, Maria was a formidable opponent of Rhodes.
When Rhodes wanted to demolish part of the Castle to make way for a tramline to Sea Point, she took up the cudgels against him. He blustered that it was only a small part of the Castle that would be removed, to which Maria countered: ‘His nose is only a small part of Mr Rhodes’s face. Let him have it amputated, then look in the mirror to see how he looks.’
She also blocked the chopping-down of old oak trees in the Company Gardens to make way for a new High Court between Parliament and Tuynhuis. The High Court was later erected between Keerom and Queen Victoria Streets, where it stands today.
Maria was prominent in arranging mass meetings to protest against the Anglo-Boer War, and in particular to condemn the concentration camps, the scorched earth tactics of the British forces, and the deportation of Boer prisoners. As a result, the military authorities dubbed her a ‘Cape Rebel’ and the pro-Empire press labelled her as ‘Queen of the Rebel Ladies’. After martial law was declared in Cape Town, she was placed under house arrest; and scarcely a day went by without her house, 23 Strand Street, being searched by the military police.
Although she never admitted it, Maria was in fact one of the leaders of a women’s espionage ring, nicknamed the Kappie Kommando, which reported to the Boer secret service in Pretoria (the Speciale Diensten der Z.A. Republiek). One day the military police arrived to search her home while she was seated at her worktable, busy with espionage-related correspondence. She took a needlework basket, also on her table, and thrust it under the noses of the inspectors with the sarcastic remark that they had neglected to check its contents. The inspectors were so taken aback that they overlooked the incriminating letters on her table.
Maria worked closely with Emily Hobhouse, several relief committees and the Red Cross, to raise funds and bring some comfort to those in the concentration camps and to Boer prisoners of war. Food, medicine and clothing were collected, packed and stored in her home in Strand Street, for distribution – like the information she gathered – to its destination. She also corresponded regularly with British pro-Boer intellectuals, such as the publisher William Stead.
The neo-classical Koopmans-De Wet House, designed by Louis Michel Thibault, stands as a proclaimed heritage site in Strand Street, Cape Town. After Maria’s death on 2 August 1906, it was preserved as an eighteenth-century house-museum, which it remains to this day.XKaapse Kombuis
deur Dr. C. Louis Leipoldt
In die goeie ou dae, toe Kaapstad nog die kentekens gedra het van ’n egte moederstad van die Westerse beskawing, was dit moontlik om hier op ’n ouderwetse manier iets van die egte Afrikaanse kookkuns te leer. ’n Land se kookkuns kan nooit eintlik beoordeel word volgens wat aan die lekkerbek in hotels en openbare eethuise voorgesit word nie. Om dit behoorlik te waardeer, moet die kenner sy toevlug neem tot sy partikuliere vriende wat deeglike koks besit. Dit is ’n aksioom dat ons die beste volkskos in private huise aantref, nie in openbare restaurants nie.
Dit was ook die geval in Kaapstad. Die kos wat ’n mens ’n vyftig jaar gelede in die hotels en die besonder goed ingerigte kafees, soos bv. dié van Kamp, kon kry, was grotendeels gekook en opgedis volgens Europese modelle. Daar was natuurlik belangrike uitsonderings. Een daarvan was die destyds beroemde Withuis in Strandstraat, waar daar in die agterplaas ’n mooi versameling wilde diere was – ek onthou veral ’n jong kameeltjie, wat helaas nie alte lank aan die lewe gebly het nie. Die Withuis was welbekend vir sy voortreflike tafel. Selfs by die agtuur kon ’n mens daar sosaties met die gebruiklike gebraaide piesangs en ’n sestal verskillende sambals kry. Die middagete was veral smaaklik, en op die lys van skottels kon die kenner soms lekkernye soos raap-en-tamatie-bredie, kerrie-kreefsop, saffraan-bobotie met amandels en rosyntjies, en gestoofde veldkool teëkom. Onder die soet geregte was daar een wat elke plattelander en menige Kapenaar hoog geskat het – die dun, sappige, geurige pannekoekies met ’n heerlike sous van eier, room en Van der Hum daaroor. ’n Ander hotel waar die ete net so goed was en die wynkelder ook iets voortrefliks opgelewer het, was die ou Royal in Pleinstraat. Die latere Queens in Seepunt was ewe goed bekend vir sy goeie tafel, maar hy het hom nie juis daarop toegelê om eg Afrikaanse geregte op te dis nie.
Vir sulke ouderwetse Afrikaanse skottels moes jy na private huise en na die kleiner losieshuise gaan. Daar kon jy smul aan eersteklas ouderwetse kos, behoorlik gaargemaak oor die getemperde hitte van ’n houtvuur – want destyds het ons nie daaraan gedink om ons kos met ’n warm draad te verskroei nie! Die bes bekende van die Afrikaanse losieshuise was waarskynlik dié van ou juffrou Wahl in die Koningin Victoriastraat, die populêre verblyfplek van elke plattelandse volksraadslid. Die gasvrou was self ’n uitstekende kok, wat die gawe besit het om eenvoudige maar uiters smaaklike skottels te berei, en sommige van die “huisresepte” – soos haar kreefslaai, kreeffrikkadel, boontjiesop en melktert – was reg uit die ou doos. Een van die beste dinge wat die kenner daar kon kry, was die koffie, bedien met sandkoek en een of ander konfyt.
Wat ons ouderwetse Afrikaanse kookkuns noem, kan vergelyk word met die kookkuns van die streek ten suide van die rivier Adour in Frankryk. Daar vind ons die naaste verwant van ons boerewors. Ook daar bestaan die gewoonte om ’n oskop, kompleet met horings en vel, in die oond te braai en in al sy grimmige heerlikheid op te dis, iets wat hier te lande heeltemal uit die mode is, maar wat ek tog in Transvaal aangetref het. Die laaste maal wat ek dit geniet het – en dit was werklik ’n genot – was in geselskap van generaal Botha, wat uitdruklik verklaar het dat die kiesvleis van ’n oskop wat op hierdie manier gebraai is, die lekkerste vleis is wat die menslike gebit ooit kan kou.
Die kookkuns is, in sy kern beskou, die kuns om kos smaakliker en voedsamer te maak. Byvoegsels is nuttig en nodig om daarin te help. ’n Soutlose gereg is nie slegs smakeloos nie, maar ook minder voedsaam as een wat behoorlik gesout is; sout is ’n spesery wat net so versigtig maar net so dapper gebruik moet word as gemmer of vinkel of kaneel. Ek weet van een soort salie wat as byvoegsel tot ’n aartappelbredie die smaak van daardie skottel twintig maal verbeter, en van ’n malfablaar – van ’n soort wat êrens in die Oostelike distrikte groei – wat die geurigheid van ’n karmenaadjie aansienlik verryk. As dit ons erns is met ons kookkuns, sal ons probeer om van ons inheemse skatte op die veld en in die kloof gebruik te maak. Sonder profenemings, sonder probeerslae, is daar geen vooruitgang nie.
7 Augustus 1942
Cape Kitchen
by C Louis Leipoldt
This was no less true of Cape Town. Fifty years ago, the food in our hotels and fashionable cafés, such as that of Kamp, was generally prepared and served in accordance with European guidelines. There were, of course, notable exceptions, one being the highly regarded White House in Strand Street, which had a good collection of game in its backyard – I particularly remember a young camel that, alas, didn’t survive very long. The White House was renowned for its excellent table. Even at eight in the morning, one could relish sosaties with fried bananas and no less than six different sambals. Lunch was especially enjoyable, and from time to time the menu would contain such delicacies as turnip and tomato bredie, curried crayfish soup, saffron bobotie with almonds and raisins, and stewed veldkool. A dessert that was particularly savoured by plattelanders and Capetonians alike was the thin, juicy, fragrant pancakes with a delicious sauce made from eggs, cream and Van der Hum. Another hotel with excellent food, and a really impressive cellar, was the Old Royal in Plein Street. Queens in Sea Point was, in later years, also well known for its first-rate table, although not for authentic Afrikaans cooking.
The best traditional Afrikaans dishes were to be found in private homes and small boarding houses. There you could enjoy really outstanding traditional fare, properly prepared as it should be, over the moderated heat of a wood fire – we would not have considered scorching our food with a hot wire! The best of the Afrikaans boarding houses was probably that of old Miss Wahl in Queen Victoria Street, the popular home-from-home of many platteland Members of Parliament. The hostess was herself an excellent cook, with the knack of being able to prepare simple yet exceptionally delicious food. Some of the house recipes, such as her crayfish salad, crayfish frikkadel, bean soup and milk tart, were as traditional as you could get. And one of the simple delights there was her coffee, served with plain cake and a really good preserve.
Traditional Afrikaans cooking can be compared to that found in the area south of the Ardour River in France. There you find the closest relative of our boerewors. There too you encounter the habit of serving up, in all its grisly splendour, an ox head, complete with horns and skin, slow-roasted in a huge oven. This is decidedly out of favour in these parts, but I nevertheless encountered it in the Transvaal. The last time I tried it – and it was absolutely delicious – I was in the company of General Botha. He declared, pertinently and with relish, that the cheek of an ox head, slow-roasted in this manner, was the tastiest meat a human tooth could ever chew.
The culinary art is essentially the art of making food tastier and more nourishing, and additives are both useful and necessary for this purpose. A dish without salt is not only tasteless, it is less nourishing than one that has been properly salted. Salt is a spice that must be used carefully, but just as boldly, as ginger, fennel, or cinnamon. I know a species of sage that improves the taste of a potato bredie twentyfold, and a geranium leaf – one from somewhere in the eastern districts – that considerably improves the taste of a chop. If we were more serious about our culinary art, we wouldn’t hesitate to harness the treasures of veld and kloof, for one thing is sure: without experimentation there will be no progress.
7 August 1942
Camp Chops
From Leipoldt’s Cellar & Kitchen
by C Louis Leipoldt
When it comes to camping, tame meat – whether mutton or pork – is always at its best in the form of chops. To braai them properly, you need a hot fire, made of leadwood or thorn-tree in the Transvaal, and in the southern parts any wood that makes good coals. Here in the Cape we are privileged to be able to place a layer of rhinoceros bush over the coals, imparting to the chops a uniquely fragrant taste, but this is a refinement lacking at most campsites – instead you can rub the meat with herbs according to taste.
But choose your chops well, and see to it that they are soft and tender. First give them a tap with a clean stone or a piece of wood – not too hard, for you don’t want to break the fibres – you should only bruise them a little to get rid of the stiffness. Salt them – a pinch of fine ginger in the salt is delicious, and some people are very fond of coriander or aniseed. Dry them well – a wet chop will never braai as well as it should.
Then place them on the grill. If you haven’t brought one along, you could improvise with some of Uncle’s wire fencing, but it is generally preferable to take your own along. First grease the grill with some fat, and make sure it is nice and hot before placing the meat on it. Three or four chops can withstand the initial fire-shock together, but pay close attention to them and ensure that you turn them over as soon as they are nicely browned on the one side. When done, serve immediately with or without a lump of butter. If you have such overly civilised implements as knives and forks with you, a lump of butter is recommended, but a chop should really be eaten as King Louis XIV preferred his – with his fingers. His Majesty did that at table, however, not when he was out camping. His darling, Auntie De Maintenon, found it so unbearably rude the way he used to dirty his jacket – the one with the golden fleece on it, nogal – with dripping fat, that she ordered the cook always to serve the king’s chops with a piece of paper lace around the bone. That is how we came to have Cotelette à la Maintenon – mutton chops with frumpled pieces of paper around the bone. The way they are usually served in hotels, there is – if the truth be told – not much difference between the meat and the paper when it comes to taste and juiciness.
Therefore see to it that you camp chops will not suffer any such reproach. They should have good flavour, and be soft and tasty. It is no small matter to achieve all this with a grill, which is why some people prefer to braai them in a pan. I have nothing against that – a chop fried in a pan can be delicious, but it can also be the opposite. It all depends on the way it is done. A proper chop should retain all its juiciness, so the fire should be glowing hot, to scorch the surface of the meat, which should then be quickly roasted right through. The result is a juicy piece of meat that almost melts in your mouth.
What to eat with it? As far as I’m concerned, I can imagine nothing nicer than a piece of white farm bread, well plastered with farm butter, its inside just as soft as the meat should be and with a beautiful golden-brown crust into which your teeth, be they natural or false, can bite with relish. Vegetables and other additions? I know that camp hospitality ensures that these are always at hand, but I consider them superfluous. A good slice of bread and a chop – they go together like husband and wife, and to separate them from each other is an affront and a sin.
29 March 1946
Kampvuurkarmenaadjies
Uit Polfyntjies vir die Proe
deur Dr. C. Louis Leipoldt
Mak vleis, of dit nou skaap- of varkvleis mag wees, is wat die kamplewe betref altyd op sy beste in die gedaante van karmenaadjies. Om hulle behoorlik gaar te maak, het jy ’n warm vuur nodig, van hardekool in Transvaal of van doringboomhout, en hier in die suidelike geweste van enige hout wat mooi kole maak. Ons het in die Kaapprovinsie die voorreg dat ons oor die kole ’n laag renosterbos kan plaas, wat aan die karmenaadjie ’n eienaardige geurige smaak verleen, maar dit is ’n raffinement wat by die meeste kampeerplekke ontbreek, en as plaasvervanger daarvoor kan ons die vleis invrywe met kruie, na verkies word.
Maar kies jou karmenaadjies goed en sorg dat hulle sag en teer is. Klop hulle eers met ’n skoon stukkie klip of met ’n stuk hout – nie te hard nie, want jy moet nie die weefsels stukkend slaan nie; jy moet hulle net ’n bietjie kneus om die styfheid daarvan weg te kry. Sout hulle in; ’n grypie fyn gemmer in die sout kom van pas, en sommige mense hou baie van koljander of anyssaad. Droog hulle goed af; ’n nat karmenaadjie braai nooit soos hy moet nie.
Sit hulle dan op die rooster; as jy nie een saamgebring het nie, kan jy desnoods van Oom se doringdraadheining een maak, maar in die algemeen is dit verkiesliker om jou eie saam te bring. Smeer eers ’n bietjie vet op die rooster en sorg dat dit goed warm is voordat jy die vleis daarop lê. Drie, vier kan tegelykertyd die vuurproef deurstaan, maar pas hulle goed op en sorg dat jy hulle omdraai sodra hulle aan die een kant mooi bruin is. As hulle gaar is, bedien dadelik met of sonder ’n klont botter. As daar sulke oorbeskaafde goed is soos messe en vurke, dan is die klont botter ’n aanbeveling, maar ’n karmenaadjie moet jy eintlik eet soos koning Lodewyk die Veertiende altyd syne geëet het – met jou vingers. Sy Majesteit het dit egter aan tafel gedoen, nie as hy gekampeer het nie. Sy liefling, tannie De Maintenon, het dit so onhebbelik gevind dat hy altyd sy baadjie – nogal met die Goue Vlies daarop – bevuil het met die druppende vet dat sy aan die kok bevel gegee het dat die koning se karmenaadjies altyd opgedis moet word met ’n stuk papierkant om die been. Daardeur kry ons Cotelets à la Maintenon, wat niks anders is as skaapkarmenaadjies met ’n verfrommelde stukkie papier om die stukkie been nie. Om die waarheid te sê, soos ons hulle gewoonlik nou in die hotels kry, is daar nie veel onderskeid tussen die papier en die vleis wat smaak en sappigheid betref nie.
Sorg dus dat jou kampvuurkarmenaadjies nie onder so ’n verwyt sal ly nie. Hulle moet geurig, sag en smaaklik wees. En dis nie ’n maklike saak om dit alles reg te kry met ’n rooster nie. Daarom verkies sommige mense om hulle in ’n pan te braai. Ek het daar niks op teë nie; ’n in die pan gebraaide kampkarmenaadjie kan iets heerliks wees, maar dit kan ook uiteindelik net die teenoorgestelde wees. Alles hang af van die manier waarop dit gebraai word. ’n Behoorlike karmenaadjie moet al sy sappigheid behou, dus moet die vuur gloeind-warm wees, om die oppervlakte van die vleis goed te skroei, en daarna moet dit net ’n rukkie deurbraai. Die resultaat is ’n stukkie mollig-sappige vleis wat amper wegsmelt in jou mond.
Wat om daarmee saam te eet? Wat my betref, ek kan my niks beters voorstel nie as ’n stuk wit plaasbrood, goed met plaasbotter gepleister, met sy binnekant net so sag soos die vleis behoort te wees, en met ’n mooi goud-bruin kors waarop jou tande, of hulle nou kunstande of natuurlikes is, met welgevalle kan byt. Groente en ander toevoegsels – nou ja, ek weet dat die kampgasvryheid gewoonlik dit alles byderhand het, maar ek dink dit is oorbodig. ’n Goeie sny brood en ’n karmenaadjie – hulle pas by mekaar net soos man en vrou by mekaar pas, en om hulle van mekaar te skei, is ’n aanstoot en ’n sonde.
29 Maart 1946
Rev. David Ross
David Ross was born in Scotland on 24 May 1831. He obtained university degrees in teaching and theology, also studying some medicine and law in the course of his training. After further study in Holland, he immigrated to South Africa. In 1863 became the dominee of the newly established Dutch Reformed Church in Lady Grey, serving a widespread rural community and travelling vast distances on horseback.
The 68-year-old Ross had been serving the Lady Grey community for some 36 years when the Anglo-Boer War broke out in 1899. He looked askance on the imperialistic ambitions of Rhodes and others, and his sympathies lay with the Boers. His son was a headmaster in Pretoria who fought for the Boers.
As Lady Grey was part of the Cape Colony, Ross was acutely aware of the implications for members of his congregation of taking up arms in favour of the Boers, and he counselled them not to do so unless they had no option (Lady Grey having at one stage been occupied by Boer commandos for about four months). This advice was not always heeded, and when the British regained control of Lady Grey in March 1900, martial law was declared. The arrest of one of his elders directly after a Sunday morning church service resulted in Ross taking strong exception and remonstrating with a British colonel. This led to Ross’s own house being surrounded and searched; he was accused of having helped recruit Cape Rebels and of hiding weapons in his house; and this culminated in his arrest and trial for treason.
Ross represented himself during his trial. He was acquitted, and won admiration – even from his enemies – for his skilful cross-examination of those who testified against him. He was freed, but restrictions were imposed: he could only travel when in possession of a pass, and his horse was seized. Ross complained in a letter to Lord Roberts, which resulted in the restrictions being suspended, but he was then subpoenaed to testify at the trial of a member of his congregation in Aliwal North. As his horse had not been returned to him, he walked the 26 miles (42 kilometres) to Aliwal North, gave his evidence, and returned on foot to Lady Grey, assisted along the way by members of his congregation.
On his return to Lady Grey, Ross resolved never again to conduct church services in English. And never again did he do so.
