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Updated: June 21, 2025
There was a pause; then she continued: "Yet you are so absolutely an Englishman, and they say" with another little smile "an Englishman always wants to go home to be buried." "I am more a Rhodesian." "And you feel like Cecil Rhodes?... We went out to the Matopos this afternoon. It was a big thought, that of his, to be buried there.
This time the operations against them were on a large scale. The present Lord Plumer, who commanded the Fourth British Army in France against the Germans, he was then a Lieutenant Colonel came up with eight hundred soldiers and drove the Matabeles into the fastnesses of the Matopos, a range of hills fifty miles long and more than twenty wide.
The next morning, forgetting that he had had another night out, Baden-Powell started off for solitary exercise in the mountains, his purpose being to "investigate some signs I had noted two days before of an impi camped in a new place," and to select a position for the building of a fort to command the Matopos.
It was then in the next long holiday time that he took his path, a curious and grateful pilgrim, to the Matopos, to explore the shrine and to give thanks before it. He dreamed of being a Rhodes scholar years before it came off that Rhodes scholarship of his. It came in the fullness of time a thing of many struggles and prayers, of star-led hopes and paths steep with uphill climbing.
At Groote Schuur, the Rhodes house near Capetown, which he left as the permanent residence of the Prime Minister of the Union of South Africa, I saw a prized souvenir of the Matopos conferences with the Matabeles. On the wall in Rhodes' bedroom hangs the faded picture of an old and shriveled Matabele woman.
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