Granddad Daniel Tobias Brand Poem by Gert Strydom

Granddad Danie, of you there is little in my memory,
as you died when my mother was but a little girl
but legends and stories tell me about you,
of a man that trusts that God does remain with His people,

where as a boy you shoot with your Mauser,
with your dad and brothers resist the British,
give resistance against a huge force majeure,
till your hands started to bleed

from a rifle barrel so hot, that it burned blisters,
where you should have played with clay-oxen as a child
and the red-earth is in your soul, heart and brain
when a major force wanted to devour everything precious.

You believed like your ancestor Jan Brand:
that everything will work out well if everybody do co-operate,
that man's power and strength comes from above
and nothing can limit a person that follows God.

In my thoughts I see you smashing your pipe
after it brought embarrassment to you,
how you do trust and keep going on in a hard world,
believe in rather persuading than to force,

cry over your horse, that you had to kill out of mercy
and your shadow that falls over me is unendingly great.

[Poet's note: I am referring to Sir Johannes Henricus Brand, know as Jan Brand or as Sir John Henry Brand, the president of the Orange Free-state Republic. The Mauser was a German manufactured rifle which the farmers were equipped with.]