V.V. (13) Abraham Morris

[jbor]

A nice biographical recount here:

http://www.sn.apc.org/wmail/issues/980501/NEWS17.html

snip

[ ... In 1922]
The white men who hunted him in this frontier engagement had a grudging
admiration for him. They knew his people shared their blood and language and
religion. They wanted the same thing: independence. But this, in the
unsettled frontier of the time, made him too dangerous.

snip

[ ... During WWI]
Hendrik Prinsloo, the young police officer, knew his thinly manned outposts
were too weak. He knew of Morris as a shepherd living in a settlement with
his wife and three daughters and knew his reputation. He was not surprised
when Morris came to offer his services to "the king of England" now at war
with Germany.

Morris knew every metre of that grim territory. He knew the graves and
burnt-out supply wagons still marking the struggle with the German columns
when he was Witbooi's lieutenant. Who better to be made chief scout of the
South African Intelligence Corps! Commanders quarrelled to claim the
services of this bitter, gaunt-faced man who seldom spoke, and never before
strangers.

As Morris hunted the Germans and saw the Boer and settler volunteers
retaking the old Khoi lands, there can be little doubt he believed he was
fighting for the restoration of the old independent days. He believed the
new English administration would restore to the Bondleswarts lands reduced
by the German treaty to a 20th of their former size.

When a commander flattered him that he was no "Hottentot" he replied, "No,
commandant ... I am a Hottentot ... my mother was a Hottentot ... my father
was a Scotsman." Taller than his people, some said he was more European than
native. He was hard as nails, taciturn and very religious.

After the war, Prinsloo made Morris a present of a rifle - for service and
his personal estimation of the man's quality. It was a Lee Enfield. This was
considered to be a rare mark of esteem in a territory where the once free
hunters had shot as they pleased but were now rationed to five cartridges a
month. And every empty shell had to be accounted for.

Morris guarded other men's flocks and waited. The Nama people were seething
with resentment. Victory over the Germans had brought them nothing ...
indeed, they were barely allowed to keep what they owned. The Bondel
territory was never to be restored and what remained was being nibbled away.
Settler windpumps and surveyors' beacons were now landmarks.

At this hour there arose in Griqualand a Moses. [ ... ]

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