The patience of the missionaries in these early days was sorely tried, and the petty annoyances, so irritating to many of us, were neither few nor infrequent.  By dint of immense labour, leading the water to it, the ground which the chief had given the missionaries for a garden was made available; then the women, headed by the chief’s wife, encroached upon it, and to save contention the point was conceded.  The corn when it ripened was stolen, and the sheep either taken out of the fold at night or driven off when grazing in the day time.  No tool or household utensil could be left about for a moment or it would disappear.

One day Mr. Hamilton, who at that time had no mill to grind corn, sat down and with much labour and perspiration, by means of two stones, ground sufficient meal in half-a-day to make a loaf that should serve him, being then alone, for about eight days.  He kneaded and baked his gigantic loaf, put it on his shelf, and went to the chapel.  He returned in the evening with a keen appetite and a pleasant anticipation of enjoying his coarse home-made bread, but on opening the door of his hut and casting his eye to the shelf he saw that the loaf had gone.  Someone had forced open the little window of the hut, got in, and stolen the bread.

On another occasion Mrs. Moffat, with a babe in her arms, begged very humbly of a woman, just to be kind enough to move out of a temporary kitchen, that she might shut it as usual before going into the place of worship.  The woman seized a piece of wood to hurl at Mrs. Moffat’s head, who, therefore, escaped to the house of God, leaving the intruder in undisturbed possession of the kitchen, any of the contents of which she would not hesitate to appropriate to her own use.

A severe drought also set in, and a rain-maker, finding all his arts to bring rain useless, laid the blame upon the white strangers, who for a time were in expectation of being driven away.  Probably, however, the greatest trial at this time was caused by the conduct of some of the Hottentots who had accompanied them from the Cape, and who being but new converts were weak to withstand the demands made upon them, and brought shame upon their leaders.  Shortly after his arrival Moffat thoroughly purged his little community.  The numbers that gathered round the Lord’s table were much reduced, but the lesson was a salutary one and did good to the heathen around.

A callous indifference to the instruction of the missionaries, except it was followed by some temporal benefit, prevailed.  In August, 1822, Mary Moffat wrote, “We have no prosperity in the work, not the least sign of good being done.  The Bechwanas seem more careless than ever, and seldom enter the church.”  A little later Moffat himself stated in one of his letters, “They turn a deaf ear to the voice of love, and treat with scorn the glorious doctrines of salvation.  It is, however, pleasing to reflect that affairs in general wear a more hopeful aspect than when we came here.  Several instances have proved the people are determined to relinquish the barbarous system of commandoes for stealing cattle.  They have also dispensed with a rain-maker this season.”