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Updated: May 11, 2025
"S'gee!" says the hiss. "S'gee! S'gee!" There, my father, I am old. What have I do with the battle any more, with the battle and its joy? Yet it is better to die in such a fight as that than to live any other way. I have seen such I have seen many such.
Is it not so, my brothers? S'gee! S'gee! S'gee!" Such is a rough translation of that hateful chant which to this very day I often seem to hear.
Wherever the eye looked, men were falling and spears flashing in the sunshine, while the ear was filled with groans of the dying and the savage S'gee S'gee of the Zulu warriors as they passed their assegais through and through the bodies of the fallen.
The slaughter was truly awful, hundreds falling every minute; and from among the shouts of the warriors and the groans of the dying, set to the music of clashing spears, came a continuous hissing undertone of "S'gee, s'gee," the note of triumph of each victor as he passed his assegai through and through the body of his fallen foe.
But I saw that the blood of the Umtetwas was up; they did not mean to be beaten back this time, and the end was near. See! six men had leapt on to a waggon, slain the man behind it, and sprung into the laager. They were killed there, but others followed, and then I turned my head. But I could not shut my ears to the cries of rage and death, and the terrible S'gee!
S'gee! of the savages as they did their work of murder. Once only I looked up and saw poor Hans Botha standing on a waggon smiting down men with the butt of his rifle. The assegais shot up towards him like tongues of steel, and when I looked again he was gone. I turned sick with fear and rage. But alas! what could I do?
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