Page 5 - Bulletin 23- 2020
P. 5

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               But even as these optimistic words were being written, the deadly second wave of the
               pandemic was starting to penetrate the country from a different direction. Having arrived in

               Cape Town aboard two troopships in mid-September, it raced inland as the now demobilised

               men from these ships returned home by train.  In  even as  remote a spot as Tsolo in the
               Transkei, within days of a batch of Native Labour Corps soldiers disembarking from the

               troop train from Cape Town, “sickness has become rife among both races in the village and
               country”, reported the local magistrate, “and people are being brought in to [the] local doctor

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               by wagon and sledge loads….”

               By  mid-October,  almost the entire  country had  been  overwhelmed  by the same plight as

               demobilised soldiers and migrant workers fleeing home from infected cities and mines spread
               the disease far and wide. Nor was it any longer just laying people up in droves, but it was also

               killing a frightening number of them. In Cape Town, deaths topped 400 per day, 40 times
               greater than the usual daily toll, while, at the height of the epidemic in Kimberley, it was

               estimated that if deaths were to continue at the current rate, the entire population of that city

               would be wiped out in  16 months. In Bloemfontein, shops, offices and workshops were
               closed for want of staff, public transport and services like the post office were paralysed and

               ailing residents were dropping dead in the streets. “All this week the hand of the disease has
               lain heavily on the town,” observed a weekly newspaper, “and so uncanny was the stillness in

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               the streets and shops that we might have been in a city of the dead.”

               As eerie was the silence in the  countryside.  “For two weeks a great solemn hush has

               prevailed,” wrote a correspondent from the Cathcart district. “No one is to be seen, no one to
               be heard; no life on the farms, no work in the lands. Lord influenza and his followers have

               held the countryside in their grip.”   Corpses lay alongside the sick in kraals; animals
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               wandered in the fields  unherded and  cows  went unmilked. The  epidemic  “threatens the
               existence of the entire race”, concluded a resident of the Transkei fearfully.




                                                   Blame-mongering


               As in most epidemics when life is under dire threat, blame-mongering soon began along the

               many fault lines of South African society. Thus, some whites blamed Africans for recklessly
               spreading the diseases as they fled from epidemic hotspots – there were even calls for them to
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