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Title: The uncivilized races of men in all countries of the world; vol. 1 of 2: Being a comprehensive account of their manners and customs, and of their physical, social, mental, moral and religious characteristics
Author: Wood, John G.
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The uncivilized races of men in all countries of the world; vol. 1 of 2: Being a comprehensive account of their manners and customs, and of their physical, social, mental, moral and religious characteristics" ***
IN ALL COUNTRIES OF THE WORLD; VOL. 1 OF 2 ***
Transcriber’s Notes
This is Volume I (of II) of this work, containing (after the front
matter) pages 11-768, chapters I-LXXV, and illustration numbers
1-211; Volume II contains (after the front matter) page numbers
769-1481, chapters LXXVI-CLXX, and illustration numbers 212-443. For
ease of reference, the Table of Contents, List of Illustrations and
Index have been included in both volumes.
Text between _underscores_ represents text printed in italics in the
source document. Small capitals have been replaced with ALL CAPITALS.
More information on the transcription and the changes made may be
found in the Transcriber’s Notes at the end of this text.
[Illustration: (See page ii.)]
THE
UNCIVILIZED
RACES OF MEN
IN
ALL COUNTRIES OF THE WORLD;
BEING
_A COMPREHENSIVE ACCOUNT OF THEIR MANNERS AND CUSTOMS,
AND OF THEIR PHYSICAL, SOCIAL, MENTAL, MORAL AND
RELIGIOUS CHARACTERISTICS_.
BY
REV. J. G. WOOD, M.A., F.L.S.
AUTHOR OF “ILLUSTRATED NATURAL HISTORY OF ANIMALS,” “ANECDOTES OF
ANIMAL LIFE,” “HOMES WITHOUT HANDS,” “BIBLE ANIMALS,” “COMMON OBJECTS
OF THE COUNTRY AND SEASHORE,” ETC.
WITH NEW DESIGNS
BY ANGAS, DANBY, WOLF, ZWECKER, ETC., ETC.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
HARTFORD:
THE J. B. BURR PUBLISHING CO.
1877.
PREFACE.
This work is simply, as the title-page states, an account of the
manners and customs of uncivilized races of men in all parts of the
world.
Many travellers have given accounts, scattered rather at random
through their books, of the habits and modes of life exhibited by the
various people among whom they have travelled. These notices, however,
are distributed through a vast number of books, many of them very
scarce, many very expensive, and most of them ill-arranged; and it has
therefore been my task to gather together in one work, and to present
to the reader in a tolerably systematic and intelligible form, the
varieties of character which develop themselves among races which have
not as yet lost their individuality by modern civilization. In this
task I have been greatly assisted by many travellers, who have taken a
kindly interest in the work, and have given me the invaluable help of
their practical experience.
The engravings with which the work is profusely illustrated have been
derived from many sources. For the most part the countenances of
the people have been drawn from photographs, and in many instances
whole groups taken by the photographer have been transferred to the
wood-block, the artist only making a few changes of attitude, so as to
avoid the unpleasant stiffness which characterizes photographic groups.
Many of the illustrations are taken from sketches made by travellers,
who have kindly allowed me to make use of them; and I must here express
my thanks to Mr. T. Baines, the accomplished artist and traveller, who
made many sketches expressly for the work, and placed at my disposal
the whole of his diaries and portfolios. I must also express my thanks
to Mr. J. B. Zwecker, who undertook the onerous task of interpreting
pictorially the various scenes of savage life which are described in
the work, and who brought to that task a hearty good-will and a wide
knowledge of the subject, without which the work would have lost much
of its spirit. The drawings of the weapons, implements, and utensils,
are all taken from actual specimens, most of which are in my own
collection, made, through a series of several years, for the express
purpose of illustrating this work.
That all uncivilized tribes should be mentioned, is necessarily
impossible, and I have been reluctantly forced to dismiss with a brief
notice, many interesting people, to whom I would gladly have given a
greater amount of space. Especially has this been the case with Africa,
in consequence of the extraordinary variety of the native customs which
prevail in that wonderful land. We have, for example, on one side of a
river, a people well clothed, well fed, well governed, and retaining
but few of the old savage customs. On the other side, we find people
without clothes, government, manners, or morality, and sunk as deeply
as man can be in all the squalid miseries of savage life. Besides, the
chief characteristic of uncivilized Africa is the continual change
to which it is subject. Some tribes are warlike and restless, always
working their way seaward from the interior, carrying their own customs
with them, forming settlements on their way, and invariably adding to
their own habits and superstitions those of the tribes among whom they
have settled. In process of time they become careless of the military
arts by which they gained possession of the country, and are in their
turn ousted by others, who bring fresh habits and modes of life with
them. It will be seen, therefore, how full of incident is life in
Africa, the great stronghold of barbarism, and how necessary it is to
devote to that one continent a considerable portion of the work.
AMERICAN PUBLISHERS’ PREFACE.
This work, which has been nearly three years going through the press in
London, is one of the most valuable contributions that have been made
to the literature of this generation. Rev. Dr. Wood, who ranks among
the most popular and foremost writers of Great Britain, conceiving the
idea of the work many years since, and commencing the collection of
such articles, utensils, weapons, portraits, etc., as would illustrate
the life and customs of the uncivilized races, was, undoubtedly, the
best qualified of all living writers for such an undertaking. The work
is so costly by reason of its hundreds of superior engravings, that few
only will, or can avail themselves of the imported edition. Yet it is
so replete with healthful information, so fascinating by its variety
of incident, portraiture and manners, so worthy of a place in every
household library, that we have reprinted it in order that it may be
accessible to the multitude of readers in this country.
With the exception of a few paragraphs, not deemed essential by the
American editor, and not making, in the aggregate, over four pages,
the text of the two royal octavo volumes of nearly sixteen hundred
pages, is given UNABRIDGED. The errors, incident to a first edition,
have been corrected. By adopting a slightly smaller, yet very handsome
and legible type, the two volumes are included in one. The beauty and
value of the work are also greatly enhanced by grouping the engravings
and uniting them, by cross references, with the letter-press they
illustrate.
In one other and very essential respect is this superior to the English
edition. Dr. Wood has given too brief and imperfect an account of
the character, customs and life of the North American Indians, and
the savage tribes of the Arctic regions. As the work was issued in
monthly parts of a stipulated number, he may have found his space
limited, and accordingly omitted a chapter respecting the Indians,
that he had promised upon a preceding page. This deficiency has been
supplied by the American editor, making the account of the Red Men more
comprehensive, and adding some fine engravings to illustrate their
appearance and social life. Having treated of the Ahts of Vancouver’s
Island, the author crosses Behring Strait and altogether omits the
interesting races of Siberia, passing at once from America to Southern
Asia. To supply this chasm and make the work a complete “Tour round
the World,” a thorough survey of the races “in all countries” which
represent savage life, we have added an account of the Malemutes,
Ingeletes and Co-Yukons of Alaska. An interesting chapter respecting
the Tungusi, Jakuts, Ostiaks, and Samoiedes of Siberia, compiled from
Dr. Hartwig’s “Polar World,” is also given. The usefulness and value of
such a work as this are greatly enhanced by a minute and comprehensive
index. In this respect, the English edition is very deficient,--its
index occupying only a page. We have appended to the work one more than
ten times as large, furnishing to the reader and student an invaluable
help. Thus enlarged by letter-press and illustrations, this work is a
complete and invaluable _resumé_ of the manners, customs, and life of
the UNCIVILIZED RACES OF THE WORLD.
EXPLANATION OF THE FRONTISPIECE.
The Frontispiece gives a pictorial representation of African
mankind. Superstition reigning supreme, the most prominent figure is
the fetish priest, with his idols at his feet, and holding up for
adoration the sacred serpent. War is illustrated by the Kaffir chief
in the foreground, the Bosjesman with his bow and poisoned arrows,
and the Abyssinian chief behind him. The gluttony of the Negro race
is exemplified by the sensual faces of the squatting men with their
jars of porridge and fruit. The grace and beauty of the young female
is shown by the Nubian girl and Shooa woman behind the Kaffir; while
the hideousness of the old women is exemplified by the Negro woman
above with her fetish. Slavery is illustrated by the slave caravan in
the middle distance, and the pyramids speak of the interest attached
to Africa by hundreds of centuries.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE.
1. Pictorial representation of African races Frontispiece.
2. Kaffir from childhood to age 13
3. Old councillor and wives 13
4. Kaffir cradle 18
5. Young Kaffir armed 21
6. Kaffir postman 21
7. Unmarried Kaffir girls 25
8. Old Kaffir women 25
9. Kaffir ornaments--necklaces, belt, etc. 33
10. Kaffir needles and sheaths 33
11. Articles of costume 33
12. Dolls representing the Kaffir dress 33
13. Bracelets made of the hoof of the bluebok 39
14. Apron of chief’s wife 39
15. Ivory armlets 39
16. Necklaces--beads and teeth 39
17. Young Kaffir in full dress 43
18. Girl in dancing dress 43
19. Kaffir ornaments 49
20. Dress and ornaments 49
21. The Kaffirs at home 57
22. Interior of a Kaffir hut 63
23. A Kaffir kraal 63
24. A Kaffir milking bowl 67
25. A Kaffir beer bowl 67
26. A Kaffir beer strainer 67
27. A Kaffir water pipe 67
28. Woman’s basket 67
29. Kaffir cattle--training the horns 73
30. Return of a Kaffir war party 73
31. Procession of the bride 83
32. Kaffir passing his mother-in-law 88
33. Bridegroom on approval 97
34. Kaffir at his forge 97
35. Spoons for eating porridge 103
36. Group of assagais 103
37. Kaffir warriors skirmishing 111
38. Muscular advocacy 111
39. Goza, the Kaffir chief, in ordinary undress 117
40. Goza in full war dress, with his councillors 117
41. Panda’s review 121
42. Hunting scene in Kaffirland 121
43. Cooking elephant’s foot 133
44. A Kaffir dinner party 145
45. Soldiers lapping water 145
46. A Kaffir harp 155
47. Exterior of a Kaffir hut 155
48. Spoon, ladle, skimmers 155
49. A Kaffir water pipe 155
50. A Kaffir fowl house 155
51. Necklace made of human finger bones 167
52. A remarkable gourd snuff-box 167
53. Poor man’s pipe 167
54. Kaffir gentlemen smoking 167
55. The prophet’s school 174
56. The prophet’s return 174
57. Old Kaffir prophets 177
58. The Kaffir prophetess at work 188
59. Unfavorable prophecy 188
60. Preserved head 203
61. Head of Mundurucú chief 203
62. Burial of King Tchaka’s mother 203
63. Dingan, the Kaffir monarch, at home 209
64. Kaffir women quarrelling 209
65. Hottentot girl 219
66. Hottentot woman 219
67. Hottentot young man 223
68. Hottentot in full dress 223
69. Hottentot kraal 229
70. Card playing by Hottentots 237
71. Bosjesman shooting cattle 237
72. Grapple plant 247
73. Bosjesman woman and child 247
74. Hottentots asleep 247
75. Bosjesman quiver 247
76. Frontlet of Hottentot girl 247
77. Poison grub 259
78. Portrait of Koranna chief 271
79. Namaquas shooting at the storm 271
80. Knife and assagai heads 281
81. Bechuana knives 281
82. A Bechuana apron 281
83. Ornament made of monkeys’ teeth 281
84. Bechuana parliament 287
85. Female architects among the Bechuanas 287
86. Magic dice of the Bechuanas 292
87. Spartan practices among the Bechuanas 294
88. The girl’s ordeal among the Bechuanas 294
89. Plan of Bechuana house 299
90. Bechuana funeral 302
91. Grave and monument of Damara chief 302
92. Damara warrior and wife 308
93. Damara girl resting 308
94. Portrait of Ovambo girl 317
95. Ovambo women pounding corn 317
96. Ovambo houses 329
97. Makololo house building 329
98. Children’s games among the Makololo 333
99. M’Bopo, a Makololo chief, at home 333
100. Spearing the hippopotamus 343
101. The final attack 343
102. Boating scene on the Bo-tlet-le River 351
103. Batoka salutation 351
104. Batoka men 357
105. Pelele, or lip ring, of the Manganjas 357
106. Hippopotamus trap 363
107. Axes of the Banyai 363
108. The marimba, or African piano 371
109. Singular headdress of the Balonda women 371
110. Wagogo greediness 387
111. Architecture of the Weezee 387
112. A husband’s welcome among the Weezee 391
113. Sultan Ukulima drinking pombé 391
114. Harvest scene among the Wanyamuezi 397
115. Salutation by the Watusi 397
116. Rumanika’s private band 404
117. Arrest of the queen 412
118. Reception of a visitor by the Waganda 417
119. The magician of Unyoro at work 417
120. Wanyoro culprit in the shoe 423
121. Group of Gani and Madi 431
122. Removal of a village by Madi 431
123. Group of the Kytch tribe 437
124. Neam-Nam fighting 437
125. Wooden chiefs of the Dôr 449
126. Scalp-locks of the Djibbas 449
127. Bracelets of the Djibbas 449
128. Ornaments of the Djour 449
129. Women’s knives 449
130. A Nuehr helmet 449
131. The Latooka victory 457
132. Gorilla hunting by the Fans 457
133. A Bari homestead 465
134. Funeral dance of the Latookas 465
135. The ceremony of M’paza 478
136. Obongo market 478
137. The giant dance of the Aponos 486
138. Fishing scene among the Bakalai 486
139. Ashira farewell 499
140. Olenda’s salutation to an Ishogo chief 499
141. A Camma dance 508
142. Quengueza’s (chief of the Camma) walk 508
143. The Camma fetish man ejecting a demon 517
144. Olanga drinking mboundou 517
145. Fate of the Shekiani wizard 526
146. The Mpongwé coronation 526
147. Attack on a Mpongwé village 537
148. Bargaining for a wife by the Fanti 537
149. The primeval child in Dahome 552
150. Fetishes, male and female, of the Krumen 552
151. Dahoman ivory trumpets 558
152. Dahoman war drum 558
153. War knives of the Fanti 558
154. Fetish trumpet and drum 558
155. Ashanti caboceer and soldiers 564
156. Punishment of a snake killer 564
157. “The bell comes” 569
158. Dahoman amazons 569
159. Amazon review 576
160. The Dahoman king’s dance 576
161. The basket sacrifice in Dahome 583
162. Head worship in Dahome 595
163. The attack on Abeokuta 595
164. The Alaké’s (king of the Egbas) court 605
165. Mumbo Jumbo 605
166. A Bubé marriage 612
167. Kanemboo man and woman 612
168. Washing day in Abyssinia 617
169. A Congo coronation 617
170. Ju-ju execution 619
171. Shooa women 631
172. Tuaricks and Tibboos 631
173. Begharmi lancers 638
174. Musgu chief 638
175. Dinner party in Abyssinia 643
176. Abyssinian heads 643
177. King Theodore and the lions 652
178. Pleaders in the courts 652
179. A battle between Abyssinians and Gallas 662
180. Interior of an Abyssinian house 662
181. Buffalo dance in Abyssinia 670
182. Bedouin camp 670
183. Hunting the hippopotamus 679
184. Travellers and the mirage 679
185. Travelling in Madagascar 692
186. Australian man and woman 698
187. Women and old man of Lower Murray 698
188. Hunter and his day’s provision 707
189. The sea-grass cloak 707
190. Bee hunting 716
191. Australian cooking a snake 716
192. Australian tomahawks 722
193. Australian clubs 722
194. Australian saw 722
195. Tattooing chisels 722
196. Man of Torres Strait 722
197. Basket--South Australia 722
198. Heads of Australian spears 731
199. Throw-sticks of the Australians 731
200. Boomerangs of the Australians 731
201. Spearing the kangaroo 739
202. Catching the cormorant 739
203. Australian shields 742
204. The kuri dance 749
205. Palti dance, or corrobboree 749
206. An Australian feast 759
207. Australian mothers 759
208. Mintalta, a Nauo man 765
209. Young man and boy of South Australia 765
210. Hut for cure of disease 765
211. Tomb of skulls 765
212. Tree tomb of Australia 775
213. Smoking bodies of slain warriors 775
214. Carved feather box 775
215. Australian widows and their caps 781
216. Cave with native drawings 781
217. Winter huts in Australia 787
218. A summer encampment 787
219. New Zealander from childhood to age 794
220. Woman and boy of New Zealand 803
221. A tattooed chief and his wife 803
222. Maori women making mats 809
223. The Tangi 809
224. Parátene Maioha in his state war cloak 820
225. The chiefs daughter 820
226. Hongi-hongi, chief of Waipa 820
227. Maories preparing for a feast 831
228. Maori chiefs’ storehouses 831
229. Cannibal cookhouse 835
230. Maori pah 835
231. Green jade ornaments 841
232. Maori weapons 841
233. Wooden and bone merais 841
234. Maori war dance 847
235. Te Ohu, a native priest 860
236. A tiki at Raroera pah 860
237. Tiki from Whakapokoko 860
238. Mourning over a dead chief 872
239. Tomb of E’ Toki 872
240. Rangihaeta’s war house 877
241. Interior of a pah or village 877
242. Maori paddles 881
243. Green jade adze and chisel 881
244. Common stone adze 881
245. A Maori toko-toko 881
246. New Caledonians defending their coast 893
247. Andamaners cooking a pig 893
248. A scene in the Nicobar Islands 903
249. The Outanatas and their weapons 903
250. The monkey men of Dourga Strait 909
251. Canoes of New Guinea 909
252. Huts of New Guinea 916
253. Dance by torchlight in New Guinea 916
254. The ambassador’s message 924
255. The canoe in a breeze 924
256. Presentation of the canoe 937
257. A Fijian feast 943
258. The fate of the boaster 943
259. Fijian idol 949
260. The orator’s flapper 949
261. Fijian spear 949
262. Fijian clubs 949
263. A Fijian wedding 957
264. House thatching by Fijians 957
265. A Buré, or temple, in Fiji 963
266. View in Makira harbor 963
267. Man and woman of Vaté 973
268. Woman and child of Vanikoro 973
269. Daughter of Tongan chief 973
270. Burial of a living king 980
271. Interior of a Tongan house 980
272. The kava party in Tonga 988
273. Tongan plantation 991
274. Ceremony of inachi 991
275. The tow-tow 999
276. Consulting a priest 999
277. Tattooing day in Samoa 1012
278. Cloth making by Samoan women 1012
279. Samoan club 1018
280. Armor of Samoan warrior 1018
281. Beautiful paddle of Hervey Islanders 1018
282. Ornamented adze magnified 1018
283. Spear of Hervey Islanders 1018
284. Shark tooth gauntlets 1025
285. Samoan warriors exchanging defiance 1027
286. Pigeon catching by Samoans 1027
287. Battle scene in Hervey Islands 1035
288. Village in Kingsmill Islands 1035
289. Shark tooth spear 1041
290. Shark’s jaw 1041
291. Swords of Kingsmill Islanders 1041
292. Tattooed chiefs of Marquesas 1046
293. Marquesan chief’s hand 1046
294. Neck ornament 1046
295. Marquesan chief in war dress 1046
296. The war dance of the Niuans 1054
297. Tahitans presenting the cloth 1054
298. Dressing the idols by Society Islanders 1067
299. The human sacrifice by Tahitans 1077
300. Corpse and chief mourner 1077
301. Tane, the Tahitan god, returning home 1084
302. Women and pet pig of Sandwich Islands 1084
303. Kamehameha’s exploit with spears 1089
304. Masked rowers 1089
305. Surf swimming by Sandwich Islanders 1093
306. Helmet of Sandwich Islanders 1097
307. Feather idol of Sandwich Islanders 1097
308. Wooden idol of Sandwich Islanders 1097
309. Romanzoff Islanders, man and woman 1101
310. Dyak warrior and dusum 1101
311. Investiture of the rupack 1105
312. Warrior’s dance among Pelew Islanders 1105
313. Illinoan pirate and Saghai Dyak 1113
314. Dyak women 1113
315. Parang-latok of the Dyaks 1122
316. Sumpitans of the Dyaks 1122
317. Parang-ihlang of the Dyaks 1122
318. The kris, or dagger, of the Dyaks 1129
319. Shields of Dyak soldiers 1129
320. A parang with charms 1129
321. A Dyak spear 1129
322. Canoe fight of the Dyaks 1139
323. A Dyak wedding 1139
324. A Dyak feast 1147
325. A Bornean adze axe 1152
326. A Dyak village 1153
327. A Dyak house 1153
328. Fuegian man and woman 1163
329. Patagonian man and woman 1163
330. A Fuegian settlement 1169
331. Fuegians shifting quarters 1169
332. Araucanian stirrups and spur 1175
333. Araucanian lassos 1175
334. Patagonian bolas 1175
335. Spanish bit and Patagonian fittings 1175
336. Patagonians hunting game 1180
337. Patagonian village 1187
338. Patagonian burial ground 1187
339. A Mapuché family 1201
340. Araucanian marriage 1201
341. Mapuché medicine 1207
342. Mapuché funeral 1207
343. The macana club 1212
344. Guianan arrows and tube 1214
345. Gran Chaco Indians on the move 1218
346. The ordeal of the “gloves” 1218
347. Guianan blow guns 1225
348. Guianan blow-gun arrow 1225
349. Guianan winged arrows 1225
350. Guianan cotton basket 1225
351. Guianan quiver 1225
352. Guianan arrows rolled around stick 1225
353. Guianan arrows strung 1225
354. Feathered arrows of the Macoushies 1231
355. Cassava dish of the Macoushies 1231
356. Guianan quake 1231
357. Arrow heads of the Macoushies 1231
358. Guianan turtle arrow 1231
359. Guianan quiver for arrow heads 1231
360. Feather apron of the Mundurucús 1231
361. Head-dresses of the Macoushies 1238
362. Guianan clubs 1238
363. Guianan cradle 1238
364. A Warau house 1244
365. Lake dwellers of the Orinoco 1244
366. Guianan tipiti and bowl 1249
367. Guianan twin bottles 1249
368. Feather apron of the Caribs 1249
369. Bead apron of the Guianans 1249
370. The spathe of the Waraus 1249
371. The Maquarri dance 1260
372. Shield wrestling of the Waraus 1260
373. Jaguar bone flute of the Caribs 1265
374. Rattle of the Guianans 1265
375. Mexican stirrups 1265
376. Iron and stone tomahawks 1265
377. Indian shield and clubs 1265
378. Mandan chief Mah-to-toh-pa and wife 1277
379. A Crow chief 1284
380. American Indians scalping 1284
381. Flint-headed arrow 1290
382. Camanchees riding 1291
383. “Smoking” horses 1291
384. Snow shoe 1295
385. Bison hunting scene 1299
386. Buffalo dance 1299
387. The Mandan ordeal 1305
388. The last race 1305
389. The medicine man at work 1311
390. The ball play of the Choctaws 1311
391. Indian pipes 1315
392. Ee-e-chin-che-a in war costume 1318
393. Grandson of a Blackfoot chief 1318
394. Pshan-shaw, a girl of the Riccarees 1318
395. Flat-head woman and child 1319
396. Indian canoe 1322
397. Snow shoe dance 1322
398. Dance to the medicine of the brave 1322
399. The canoe race 1327
400. Esquimaux dwellings 1327
401. Esquimaux harpoon head 1337
402. Burial of Blackbird, an Omaha chief 1341
403. Esquimaux spearing the walrus 1341
404. The kajak and its management 1347
405. Esquimaux sledge driving 1347
406. Wrist-guard of the Esquimaux 1353
407. Esquimaux fish-hooks 1353
408. Feathered arrows of Aht tribe 1356
409. Ingenious fish-hook of the Ahts 1357
410. Remarkable carved pipes of the Ahts 1357
411. Bow of the Ahts of Vancouver’s Island 1357
412. Beaver mask of the Aht tribe 1357
413. Singular head-dress of the Aht chiefs 1357
414. Decorated paddles of the Ahts 1357
415. Canoe of the Ahts 1361
416. Aht dance 1367
417. Initiation of a dog eater 1367
418. A Sowrah marriage 1387
419. A Meriah sacrifice 1387
420. Bows and quiver of Hindoos 1394
421. Ingenious ruse of Bheel robbers 1397
422. A Ghoorka attacked by a tiger 1397
423. A Ghoorka necklace 1403
424. A kookery of the Ghoorka tribe 1403
425. The chakra or quoit weapon 1403
426. Indian arms and armor 1403
427. Suit of armor inlaid with gold 1406
428. Chinese repeating crossbow 1425
429. Mutual assistance 1427
430. Chinese woman’s foot and shoe 1428
431. Mandarin and wife 1437
432. Various modes of torture 1437
433. Mouth organ 1445
434. Specimens of Chinese art 1446
435. Decapitation of Chinese criminal 1451
436. The street ballad-singer 1451
437. Japanese lady in a storm 1454
438. Japanese lady on horseback 1455
439. Capture of the truant husbands 1464
440. Candlestick and censers 1465
441. Suit of Japanese armor 1469
442. King S. S. P. M. Mongkut of Siam 1469
443. Portrait of celebrated Siamese actress 1469
CONTENTS
OF
VOLUME I.
Chap. Page.
KAFFIRS OF SOUTH AFRICA.
I. INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER 11
II. COURSE OF LIFE 17
III. COURSE OF LIFE--_Concluded_ 20
IV. MASCULINE DRESS AND ORNAMENTS 28
V. MASCULINE DRESS AND ORNAMENTS--_Concluded_ 36
VI. FEMININE DRESS AND ORNAMENTS 48
VII. ARCHITECTURE 56
VIII. CATTLE KEEPING 66
IX. MARRIAGE 75
X. MARRIAGE--_Concluded_ 82
XI. WAR--OFFENSIVE WEAPONS 92
XII. WAR--DEFENSIVE WEAPONS 108
XIII. HUNTING 126
XIV. AGRICULTURE 138
XV. FOOD 143
XVI. SOCIAL CHARACTERISTICS 159
XVII. RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION 169
XVIII. RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION--_Continued_ 180
XIX. SUPERSTITION--_Concluded_ 192
XX. FUNERAL RITES 200
XXI. DOMESTIC LIFE 206
HOTTENTOTS.
XXII. THE HOTTENTOT RACES 217
XXIII. MARRIAGE, LANGUAGE, AMUSEMENTS 232
THE BOSJESMAN, OR BUSHMAN.
XXIV. APPEARANCE--SOCIAL LIFE 242
XXV. ARCHITECTURE--WEAPONS 251
XXVI. AMUSEMENTS 262
VARIOUS AFRICAN RACES.
XXVII. KORANNAS AND NAMAQUAS 269
XXVIII. THE BECHUANAS 280
XXIX. THE BECHUANAS--_Concluded_ 291
XXX. THE DAMARA TRIBE 304
XXXI. THE OVAMBO, OR OVAMPO 315
XXXII. THE MAKOLOLO TRIBE 324
XXXIII. THE BAYEYE AND MAKOBA 337
XXXIV. THE BATOKA AND MANGANJA 348
XXXV. THE BANYAI AND BADEMA 361
XXXVI. THE BALONDO, OR BALONDA, AND ANGOLESE 369
XXXVII. WAGOGO AND WANYAMUEZI 384
XXXVIII. KARAGUE 399
XXXIX. THE WATUSI AND WAGANDA 408
XL. THE WANYORO 422
XLI. GANI, MADI, OBBO, AND KYTCH 429
XLII. THE NEAM-NAM, DÔR, AND DJOUR TRIBES 440
XLIII. THE LATOOKA TRIBE 453
XLIV. THE SHIR, BARI, DJIBBA, NUEHR, DINKA, AND SHILLOOK
TRIBES 461
XLV. THE ISHOGO, ASHANGO, AND OBONGO TRIBES 475
XLVI. THE APONO AND APINGI 484
XLVII. THE BAKALAI 491
XLVIII. THE ASHIRA 496
XLIX. THE CAMMA OR COMMI 504
L. THE SHEKIANI AND MPONGWÉ 521
LI. THE FANS 529
LII. THE FANS--_Concluded_ 535
LIII. THE KRUMEN AND FANTI 544
LIV. THE ASHANTI 554
LV. DAHOME 561
LVI. DAHOME--_Continued_ 573
LVII. DAHOME--_Concluded_ 581
LVIII. THE EGBAS 590
LIX. BONNY 600
LX. THE MAN-DINGOES 607
LXI. THE BUBES AND CONGOESE 610
LXII. BORNU 620
LXIII. THE SHOOAS, TIBBOOS, TUARICKS, BEGHARMIS, AND MUSGUESE 628
LXIV. ABYSSINIANS 641
LXV. ABYSSINIANS--_Continued_ 649
LXVI. ABYSSINIANS--_Concluded_ 658
LXVII. NUBIANS AND HAMRAN ARABS 673
LXVIII. BEDOUINS, HASSANIYEHS, AND MALAGASY 681
AUSTRALIA.
LXIX. APPEARANCE AND CHARACTER OF NATIVES 694
LXX. DRESS--FOOD 703
LXXI. WEAPONS 719
LXXII. WEAPONS--_Concluded_ 727
LXXIII. WAR--AMUSEMENTS 744
LXXIV. DOMESTIC LIFE 755
LXXV. FROM CHILDHOOD TO MANHOOD 761
CONTENTS
OF
VOLUME II.
Chap. Page.
LXXVI. MEDICINE--SURGERY--DISPOSAL OF DEAD 769
LXXVII. DWELLINGS--CANOES 784
NEW ZEALAND.
LXXVIII. GENERAL REMARKS 792
LXXIX. DRESS 800
LXXX. DRESS--_Concluded_ 807
LXXXI. DOMESTIC LIFE 816
LXXXII. FOOD AND COOKERY 826
LXXXIII. WAR 838
LXXXIV. CANOES 852
LXXXV. RELIGION 856
LXXXVI. THE TAPU 863
LXXXVII. FUNERAL CEREMONIES--ARCHITECTURE 869
NEW CALEDONIA.
LXXXVIII. APPEARANCE--DRESS--WARFARE 883
ANDAMAN AND NICOBAR ISLANDS.
LXXXIX. ORIGIN OF NATIVES--APPEARANCE--CHARACTER--EDUCATION 888
NEW GUINEA.
XC. PAPUANS AND OUTANATAS 898
XCI. THE ALFOËRS OR HARAFORAS 905
PHILIPPINE ISLANDS.
XCII. THE AJITAS OR AHITAS 919
FIJI.
XCIII. APPEARANCE--DRESS 922
XCIV. MANUFACTURES 929
XCV. GOVERNMENT--SOCIAL LIFE 934
XCVI. WAR--AMUSEMENTS 948
XCVII. RELIGION--FUNERAL RITES 960
SOLOMON ISLANDS AND NEW HEBRIDES.
XCVIII. CHARACTER--DRESS--CUSTOMS 968
TONGA.
XCIX. GOVERNMENT--GRADATIONS OF RANK 976
C. WAR AND CEREMONIES 984
CI. SICKNESS--BURIAL--GAMES 997
SAMOA, OR NAVIGATOR’S ISLAND.
CII. APPEARANCE--CHARACTER--DRESS 1008
CIII. WAR 1016
CIV. AMUSEMENTS--MARRIAGE--ARCHITECTURE 1028
HERVEY AND KINGSMILL ISLANDS.
CV. APPEARANCE--WEAPONS--GOVERNMENT 1032
MARQUESAS ISLANDS.
CVI. DRESS--AMUSEMENTS--WAR--BURIAL 1044
NIUE, OR SAVAGE ISLANDS.
CVII. ORIGIN--COSTUME--LAWS--BURIAL 1052
SOCIETY ISLANDS.
CVIII. APPEARANCE--DRESS--SOCIAL CUSTOMS 1057
CIX. RELIGION 1064
CX. HISTORY--WAR--FUNERALS--LEGENDS 1072
SANDWICH ISLANDS.
CXI. CLIMATE--DRESS--ORNAMENTS--WOMEN 1081
CXII. WAR--SPORT--RELIGION 1088
CAROLINE ARCHIPELAGO.
CXIII. DRESS--ARCHITECTURE--AMUSEMENTS--WAR 1100
BORNEO.
CXIV. THE DYAKS, APPEARANCE AND DRESS 1110
CXV. WAR 1119
CXVI. WAR--_Concluded_ 1128
CXVII. SOCIAL LIFE 1137
CXVIII. ARCHITECTURE, MANUFACTURES 1149
CXIX. RELIGION--OMENS--FUNERALS 1157
TIERRA DEL FUEGO.
CXX. APPEARANCE--ARCHITECTURE--MANUFACTURES 1161
PATAGONIANS.
CXXI. APPEARANCE--WEAPONS--HORSEMANSHIP 1172
CXXII. DOMESTIC LIFE 1183
ARAUCANIANS.
CXXIII. DRESS--ETIQUETTE--GOVERNMENT 1190
CXXIV. DOMESTIC LIFE 1196
CXXV. GAMES--SOCIAL CUSTOMS 1204
THE GRAN CHACO.
CXXVI. APPEARANCE--WEAPONS--CHARACTER 1211
THE MUNDURUCÚS.
CXXVII. MANUFACTURES--SOCIAL CUSTOMS 1215
THE TRIBES OF GUIANA.
CXXVIII. WEAPONS 1221
CXXIX. WEAPONS--_Concluded_ 1228
CXXX. WAR--SUPERSTITION 1239
CXXXI. ARCHITECTURE--SOCIAL CUSTOMS 1245
CXXXII. DRESS--AMUSEMENTS 1255
CXXXIII. RELIGION--BURIAL 1263
MEXICO.
CXXXIV. HISTORY--RELIGION--ART 1271
NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.
CXXXV. GOVERNMENT--CUSTOMS 1273
CXXXVI. WAR 1281
CXXXVII. HUNTING--AMUSEMENTS 1293
CXXXVIII. RELIGION--SUPERSTITION 1301
CXXXIX. SOCIAL LIFE 1316
ESQUIMAUX.
CXL. APPEARANCE--DRESS--MANNERS 1333
CXLI. HUNTING--RELIGION--BURIAL 1338
VANCOUVER’S ISLAND.
CXLII. THE AHTS, AND NEIGHBORING TRIBES 1354
CXLIII. CANOES--FEASTS--DANCES 1362
CXLIV. ARCHITECTURE--RELIGION--DISPOSAL OF DEAD 1369
ALASKA.
CXLV. MALEMUTES--INGELETES--CO-YUKONS 1374
SIBERIA.
CXLVI. THE TCHUKTCHI--JAKUTS--TUNGUSI 1377
CXLVII. THE SAMOÏEDES--OSTIAKS 1381
INDIA.
CXLVIII. THE SOWRAHS AND KHONDS 1385
CXLIX. WEAPONS 1395
CL. SACRIFICIAL RELIGION 1407
CLI. THE INDIANS, WITH RELATION TO ANIMALS 1416
TARTARY.
CLII. THE MANTCHU TARTARS 1422
CHINA.
CLIII. APPEARANCE--DRESS--FOOD 1426
CLIV. WARFARE 1433
CLV. SOCIAL CHARACTERISTICS 1441
JAPAN.
CLVI. DRESS--ART--AMUSEMENTS 1449
CLVII. MISCELLANEOUS CUSTOMS 1458
SIAM.
CLVIII. GOVERNMENT--DRESS--RELIGION 1467
ANCIENT EUROPE.
CLIX. THE SWISS LAKE-DWELLERS 1473
CENTRAL AFRICA.
CLX. THE MAKONDÉ 1475
CLXI. THE WAIYAU 1478
CLXII. THE BABISA AND BABEMBA 1482
CLXIII. THE MANYUEMA 1487
CLXIV. THE MANYUEMA--_Concluded_ 1492
CLXV. UNYAMWEZI 1496
CLXVI. UVINZA AND UHHA 1500
CLXVII. THE MONBUTTOO 1503
CLXVIII. THE PYGMIES 1508
CLXIX. GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF AFRICAN TRIBES 1511
CLXX. THE AFRICAN SLAVE TRADE 1515
CENTRAL ASIA.
CLXXI. THE KAKHYENS 1520
CHAPTER I.
THE KAFFIR, OR ZINGIAN TRIBES, AND THEIR PHYSICAL PECULIARITIES --
ORIGIN OF THE NAME -- THEORIES AS TO THEIR PRESENCE IN SOUTHERN
AFRICA -- THE CHIEF TRIBES AND THEIR LOCALITIES -- THE ZULUS AND
THEIR APPEARANCE -- THEIR COMPLEXION AND IDEAS OF BEAUTY -- POINTS OF
SIMILITUDE AND CONTRAST BETWEEN THE KAFFIR AND THE NEGRO -- MENTAL
CHARACTERISTICS OF THE KAFFIR -- HIS WANT OF CARE FOR THE FUTURE, AND
REASONS FOR IT -- CONTROVERSIAL POWERS OF THE KAFFIR -- THE SOCRATIC
MODE OF ARGUMENT -- THE HORNS OF A DILEMMA -- LOVE OF A KAFFIR FOR
ARGUMENT -- HIS MENTAL TRAINING AND ITS CONSEQUENCES -- PARTHIAN
MODE OF ARGUING -- PLACABLE NATURE OF THE KAFFIR -- HIS SENSE OF
SELF-RESPECT -- FONDNESS FOR A PRACTICAL JOKE -- THE WOMAN AND THE
MELON -- HOSPITALITY OF THE KAFFIRS -- THEIR DOMESTICATED NATURE AND
FONDNESS FOR CHILDREN -- THEIR HATRED OF SOLITUDE.
Over the whole of the Southern portion of the great Continent of
Africa is spread a remarkable and interesting race of mankind. Though
divided into numerous tribes, and differing in appearance, manners, and
customs, they are evidently cast in the same mould, and belong to the
same group of the human race. They are dark, but not so black as the
true negro of the West. Their hair is crisp, short, and curled, but not
so woolly as that of the negro; their lips, though large when compared
with those of Europeans, are small when compared to those of the negro.
The form is finely modelled, the stature tall, the limbs straight, the
forehead high, the expression intelligent; and, altogether, this group
of mankind affords as fine examples of the human form as can be found
anywhere on the earth.
To give a name to this large group is not very easy. Popularly, the
tribes which compose it are known as Kaffirs; but that term has now
been restricted to the tribes on the south-east of the continent,
between the sea and the range of the Draakensberg Mountains.
Moreover, the name Kaffir is a very inappropriate one, being simply
the term which the Moslem races apply to all who do not believe with
themselves, and by which they designate black and white men alike. Some
ethnologists have designated them by the general name of Chuanas, the
word being the root of the well-known Bechuana, Sechuana, and similar
names; while others have preferred the word Bantu, and others Zingian,
which last word is perhaps the best.
Whatever may be the title, it is evident that they are not aborigines,
but that they have descended upon Southern Africa from some other
locality--probably from more northern parts of the same continent. Some
writers claim for the Kaffir or Zingian tribes an Asiatic origin, and
have a theory that in the course of their migration they mixed with the
negroes, and so became possessed of the frizzled hair, the thick lips,
the dark skin, and other peculiarities of the negro race.
Who might have been the true aborigines of Southern Africa cannot
be definitely stated, inasmuch as even within very recent times
great changes have taken place. At the present time South Africa is
practically European, the white man, whether Dutch or English, having
dispossessed the owners of the soil, and either settled upon the land
or reduced the dark-skinned inhabitants to the rank of mere dependants.
Those whom they displaced were themselves interlopers, having overcome
and ejected the Hottentot tribes, who in their turn seem but to have
suffered the same fate which in the time of their greatness they had
brought upon others.
At the present day the great Zingian group affords the best type of the
inhabitants of Southern Africa, and we will therefore begin with the
Kaffir tribes.
* * * * *
If the reader will refer to a map of Africa, he will see that upon the
south-east coast a long range of mountains runs nearly parallel with
the sea-line, and extends from lat. 27° to 33°. It is the line of the
Draakensberg Mountains, and along the strip of land which intervenes
between these mountains and the sea are found the genuine Kaffir
tribes. There are other tribes belonging to the same group of mankind
which are found on the western side of the Draakensberg, and are spread
over the entire country, from Delagoa Bay on the east to the Orange
River on the west. These tribes are familiar to readers of African
travel under the names of Bechuanas, Bayeye, Namaqua, Ovampo, &c. But,
by common consent, the name of Kaffir is now restricted to those tribes
which inhabit the strip of country above mentioned.
Formerly, a considerable number of tribes inhabited this district, and
were sufficiently distinct to be almost reckoned as different nations.
Now, however, these tribes are practically reduced to five; namely, the
Amatonga on the north, followed southward by the Amaswazi, the Amazulu,
the Amaponda, and the Amakosa. Here it must be remarked that the prefix
of “Ama,” attached to all the words, is one of the forms by which the
plural of certain names is designated. Thus, we might speak of a single
Tonga, Swazi, Zulu, or Ponda Kaffir; but if we wish to speak of more
than one, we form the plural by prefixing “Ama” to the word.
The other tribes, although they for the most part still exist and
retain the ancient names, are practically merged into those whose names
have been mentioned.
Of all the true Kaffir tribes, the Zulu is the chief type, and that
tribe will be first described. Although spread over a considerable
range of country, the Zulu tribe has its headquarters rather to
the north of Natal, and there may be found the best specimens of
this splendid race of men. Belonging, as do the Zulu tribes, to the
dark-skinned portion of mankind, their skin does not possess that dead,
jetty black which is characteristic of the Western negro. It is a more
transparent skin, the layer of coloring matter does not seem to be so
thick, and the ruddy hue of the blood is perceptible through the black.
It is held by the Kaffirs to be the perfection of human coloring; and a
Zulu, if asked what he considers to be the finest complexion, will say
that it is, _like his own_, black, with a little red.
Some dark-skinned nations approve of a fair complexion, and in some
parts of the world the chiefs are so much fairer than the commonalty,
that they seem almost to belong to different races. The Kaffir,
however, holds precisely the opposite opinion. According to his views
of human beauty, the blacker a man is the handsomer he is considered,
provided that some tinge of red be perceptible. They carry this notion
so far, that in sounding the praises of their king, an act at which
they are very expert, they mention, as one of his excellences, that
he chooses to be black, though, being so powerful a monarch, he might
have been white if he had liked. Europeans who have resided for any
length of time among the Kaffir tribes seem to imbibe similar ideas
about the superior beauty of the black and red complexion. They become
used to it, and perceive little varieties in individuals, though to
an inexperienced eye the color would appear exactly similar in every
person. When they return to civilized society they feel a great
contempt for the pale, lifeless-looking complexion of Europeans,
and some time elapses before they learn to view a fair skin and
light hair with any degree of admiration. Examples of albinos are
occasionally seen among the Kaffirs, but they are not pleasant-looking
individuals, and are not admired by their blacker and more fortunate
fellow-countrymen. A dark olive is, however, tolerably common, but the
real hue of the skin is that of rather blackish chocolate. As is the
case with the negro race, the newly born infant of a Kaffir is nearly
as pale as that of a European, the dark hue becoming developed by
degrees.
Though dark of hue, the Kaffirs are as fastidious about their dusky
complexion as any European belle could be of her own fairer skin; and
the pride with which a Kaffir, even though he be a man and a tried
warrior, regards the shining, transparent black of his skin, has in it
something ludicrous to an inhabitant of Europe.
The hair of the Kaffir, whether it belong to male or female, never
becomes long, but envelopes the head in a close covering of crisp,
woolly curls, very similar to the hair of the true negro. The lips are
always large, the mouth wide, and the nose has very wide nostrils.
These peculiarities the Kaffir has in common with the negro, and it
now and then happens that an individual has these three features
so strongly marked that he might be mistaken for a negro at first
sight. A more careful view, however, would at once detect the lofty
and intellectual forehead, the prominence of the nose, and the high
cheek-bones, together with a nameless but decided cast of countenance,
which marks them out from all other groups of the dark-skinned natives
of Africa. The high cheek-bones form a very prominent feature in the
countenances of the Hottentots and Bosjesmans, but the Kaffir cannot
for a moment be mistaken for either one or the other, any more than a
lion could be mistaken for a puma.
[Illustration: OLD COUNCILLOR AND WIVES. (See page 16.)
THE KAFFIR FROM CHILDHOOD TO AGE. _From Photographic Portraits._
_Married Man._ _Old Councillor._ _Unmarried Girl._ _Old Woman._
_Young Boy._ _Unmarried Man or “Boy.”_ _Young Married Woman and Child._
(See page 12.)]
The expression of the Kaffir face, especially when young, is rather
pleasing; and, as a general rule, is notable when in repose for a
slight plaintiveness, this expression being marked most strongly
in the young, of both sexes. The dark eyes are lively and full of
intellect, and a kind of cheerful good humor pervades the features. As
a people, they are devoid of care. The three great causes of care in
more civilized lands have but little influence on a Kaffir. The clothes
which he absolutely needs are of the most trifling description, and
in our sense of the word cannot be recognized as clothing at all. The
slight hut which enacts the part of a house is constructed of materials
that can be bought for about a shilling, and to the native cost nothing
but the labor of cutting and carrying. His food, which constitutes his
only real anxiety, is obtained far more easily than among civilized
nations, for game-preserving is unknown in Southern Africa, and any
bird or beast becomes the property of any one who chooses to take the
trouble of capturing it. One of the missionary clergy was much struck
by this utter want of care, when he was explaining the Scriptures to
some dusky hearers. The advice “to take no thought for the morrow” had
not the least effect on them. They never had taken any thought for the
morrow, and never would do so, and rather wondered that any one could
have been foolish enough to give them such needless advice.
There is another cause for this heedless enjoyment of the present
moment; namely, an instinctive fatalism, arising from the peculiar
nature of their government. The power of life and death with which the
Kaffir rulers are invested is exercised in so arbitrary and reckless a
manner, that no Kaffir feels the least security for his life. He knows
perfectly well that the king may require his life at any moment, and
he therefore never troubles himself about a future which may have no
existence for him.
Of course these traits of character belong only to the Kaffir in
their normal condition; for, when these splendid savages have placed
themselves under the protection of Europeans, the newly-felt security
of life produces its natural results, and they will display forethought
which would do no discredit to a white man. A lad, for example, will
give faithful service for a year, in order to obtain a cow at the end
of that time. Had he been engaged while under the rule of his own
king, he would have insisted on prepayment, and would have honorably
fulfilled his task provided that the king did not have him executed.
Their fatalism is, in fact, owing to the peculiarly logical turn of
a Kaffir’s mind, and his determination to follow an argument to its
conclusion. He accepts the acknowledged fact that his life is at
the mercy of the king’s caprice, and draws therefrom the inevitable
conclusion that he can calculate on nothing beyond the present moment.
The lofty and thoughtful forehead of the Kaffir does not belie his
character, for, of all savage races, the Kaffir is perhaps the most
intellectual. In acts he is honorable and straightforward, and, with
one whom he can trust, his words will agree with his actions. But he
delights in controversy, and has a special faculty for the Socratic
mode of argument; namely, by asking a series of apparently unimportant
questions, gradually hemming in his adversary, and forcing him to
pronounce his own sentence of condemnation. If he suspects another of
having committed a crime, and examines the supposed culprit before
a council, he will not accuse him directly of the crime, but will
cross-examine him with a skill worthy of any European lawyer, each
question being only capable of being answered in one manner, and so
eliciting successive admissions, each of which forms a step in the
argument.
An amusing example of this style of argument is given by Fleming. Some
Kaffirs had been detected in eating an ox, and the owner brought them
before a council, demanding payment for the ox. Their defence was that
they had not killed the animal, but had found it dying from a wound
inflicted by another ox, and so had considered it as fair spoil. When
their defence had been completed, an old Kaffir began to examine the
previous speaker, and, as usual, commenced by a question apparently
wide of the subject.
Q. “Does an ox tail grow up, down, or sideways?”
A. “Downward.”
Q. “Do its horns grow up, down, or sideways?”
A. “Up.”
Q. “If an ox gores another, does he not lower his head and gore upward?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “Could he gore downward?”
A. “No.”
The wily interrogator then forced the unwilling witness to examine the
wound which he asserted to have been made by the horn of another ox,
and to admit that the slain beast had been stabbed and not gored.
Mr. Grout, the missionary, mentions an instance of the subtle turn of
mind which distinguishes an intelligent Kaffir. One of the converts
came to ask what he was to do if he went on a journey with his people.
It must first be understood that a Kaffir takes no provisions when
travelling, knowing that he will receive hospitality on the way.
“What shall I do, when I am out on a journey among the people, and they
offer such food as they have, perhaps the flesh of an animal which
has been slaughtered in honor of the ghosts of the departed? If I eat
it, they will say, ‘See there! he is a believer in _our_ religion--he
partakes with us of the meat offered to our gods.’ And if I do not eat,
they will say, ‘See there! he is a believer in the existence and power
of our gods, else why does he hesitate to eat of the meat which we have
slaughtered to them?’”
Argument is a Kaffir’s native element, and he likes nothing better than
a complicated debate where there is plenty of hair-splitting on both
sides. The above instances show that a Kaffir can appreciate a dilemma
as well as the most accomplished logicians, and he is master of that
great key of controversy,--namely, throwing the burden of proof on
the opponent. In all his controversy he is scrupulously polite, never
interrupting an opponent, and patiently awaiting his own turn to speak.
And when the case has been fully argued, and a conclusion arrived at,
he always bows to the decision of the presiding chief, and acquiesces
in the judgment, even when a penalty is inflicted upon himself.
Trained in such a school, the old and influential chief, who has owed
his position as much to his intellect as to his military repute,
becomes a most formidable antagonist in argument, especially when
the question regards the possession of land and the boundaries to be
observed. He fully recognizes the celebrated axiom that language was
given for the purpose of concealing the thoughts, and has recourse to
every evasive subterfuge and sophism that his subtle brain can invent.
He will mix truth and falsehood with such ingenuity that it is hardly
possible to separate them. He will quietly “beg the question,” and then
proceed as composedly as if his argument were a perfectly fair one. He
will attack or defend, as best suits his own case, and often, when he
seems to be yielding point after point, he makes a sudden onslaught,
becomes in his turn the assailant, and marches to victory over the
ruins of his opponent’s arguments.
On page 13 the reader will find a portrait of one of the councillors
attached to Goza, the well-known Kaffir chief, of whom we shall learn
more presently. And see what a face the man has--how his broad forehead
is wrinkled with thought, and how craftily his black eyes gleam from
under their deep brows. Half-naked savage though he be, the man who
will enter into controversy with him will find no mean antagonist, and,
whether the object be religion or politics, he must beware lest he find
himself suddenly defeated exactly when he felt most sure of victory.
The Maori of New Zealand is no mean adept at argument, and in many
points bears a strong resemblance to the Kaffir character. But, in a
contest of wits between a Maori chief and a Zulu councillor, the latter
would be nearly certain to come off the victor.
As a rule, the Kaffir is not of a revengeful character, nor is he
troubled with that exceeding techiness which characterizes some races
of mankind. Not that he is without a sense of dignity. On the contrary,
a Kaffir can be among the most dignified of mankind when he wishes,
and when there is some object in being so. But he is so sure of
himself that, like a true gentleman, he never troubles himself about
asserting his dignity. He is so sure that no real breach of respect can
be wilfully committed, that a Kaffir will seldom hesitate to play a
practical joke upon another--a proceeding which would be the cause of
instant bloodshed among the Malays. And, provided that the joke be a
clever one, no one seems to enjoy it more than the victim.
One resident in Kaffirland mentions several instances of the tendency
of the Kaffirs toward practical joking. A lad in his service gravely
told his fellow-countrymen that all those who came to call on the
Englishmen were bound by etiquette to kneel down and kiss the ground
at a certain distance from the house. The natives, born and bred
in a system of etiquette equal to that of any court in Europe,
unhesitatingly obeyed, while the lad stood by, superintending the
operation, and greatly enjoying the joke. After a while, the trick was
discovered, and no one appreciated the boy’s wit more than those who
had fallen into the snare.
Another anecdote, related by the same author, seems as if it had
been transplanted from a First of April scene in England. A woman
was bringing home a pumpkin, and, according to the usual mode of
carrying burdens in Africa, was balancing it on her head. A mischievous
boy ran hastily to her, and, with a face of horror, exclaimed,
“There’s something on your head!” The woman, startled at the sudden
announcement, thought that at least a snake had got on her head, and
ran away screaming. Down fell the pumpkin, and the boy picked it up,
and ate it before the woman recovered from her fright.
The Kaffir is essentially hospitable. On a journey, any one may go to
the kraal of a stranger, and will certainly be fed and lodged, both
according to his rank and position. White men are received in the
same hospitable manner, and, in virtue of their white skin and their
presumed knowledge, they are always ranked as chiefs, and treated
according.
The Kaffirs are singularly domestic people, and, semi-nomad as they
are, cling with great affection to their simple huts. Chiefs and
warriors of known repute may be seen in their kraals, nursing and
fondling their children with no less affection than is exhibited by the
mothers. Altogether, the Kaffir is a social being. He cannot endure
living alone, eating alone, smoking alone, snuffing alone, or even
cooking alone, but always contrives to form part of some assemblage
devoted to the special purpose. Day by day, the men assemble and
converse with each other, often treating of political affairs, and
training themselves in that school of forensic argument which has
already been mentioned.
CHAPTER II.
COURSE OF A KAFFIR’S LIFE -- INFANCY -- COLOR OF THE NEW-BORN
BABE -- THE MEDICINE-MAN AND HIS DUTIES -- KAFFIR VACCINATION --
SINGULAR TREATMENT OF A CHILD -- A CHILD’S FIRST ORNAMENT -- CURIOUS
SUPERSTITION -- MOTHER AND CHILD -- THE SKIN-CRADLE -- DESCRIPTION
OF A CRADLE BELONGING TO A CHIEF’S WIFE -- KINDNESS OF PARENTS TO
CHILDREN OF BOTH SEXES -- THE FUTURE OF A KAFFIR FAMILY, AND THE
ABSENCE OF ANXIETY -- INFANTICIDE ALMOST UNKNOWN -- CEREMONY ON
PASSING INTO BOYHOOD -- DIFFERENT THEORIES RESPECTING ITS CHARACTER
AND ORIGIN -- TCHAKA’S ATTEMPTED ABOLITION OF THE RITE -- CURIOUS
IDEA OF THE KAFFIRS, AND RESUMPTION OF THE CEREMONY -- A KAFFIR’S
DREAD OF GRAY HAIRS -- IMMUNITIES AFTER UNDERGOING THE RITE -- NEW
RECRUITS FOR REGIMENTS, AND THEIR VALUE TO THE KING -- THE CEREMONY
INCUMBENT ON BOTH SEXES.
Having glanced rapidly over the principal traits of Kaffir character,
we will proceed to trace his life with somewhat more detail.
When an infant is born, it is, as has been already mentioned, of a
light hue, and does not gain the red-black of its parents until after
some little time has elapsed. The same phenomenon takes place with
the negro of Western Africa. Almost as soon as the Kaffir is born the
“medicine-man” is called, and discharges his functions in a manner very
different from “medical men” in our own country. He does not trouble
himself in the least about the mother, but devotes his whole care to
the child, on whom he performs an operation something like that of
vaccination, though not for the same object. He makes small incisions
on various parts of the body, rubs medicine into them, and goes his
way. Next day he returns, takes the unhappy infant, deepens the cuts,
and puts more medicine into them. The much-suffering child is then
washed, and is dried by being moved about in the smoke of a wood fire.
Surviving this treatment by some singular tenacity of life, the little
creature is then plentifully bedaubed with red paint, and the proud
mother takes her share of the adornment. This paint is renewed as fast
as it wears off, and is not discontinued until after a lapse of several
months.
[Illustration: CRADLE.]
“Once,” writes Mr. Shooter, “when I saw this paint put on, the mother
had carefully washed a chubby boy, and made him clean and bright. She
then took up the fragment of an earthenware pot, which contained a
red fluid, and, dipping her fingers into it, proceeded to daub her
son until he became the most grotesque-looking object it was ever my
fortune to behold. What remained, being too precious to waste, was
transferred to her own face.” Not until all these absurd preliminaries
are completed, is the child allowed to take its natural food; and it
sometimes happens that when the “medicine-man” has delayed his coming,
the consequences to the poor little creature have been extremely
disastrous. After the lapse of a few days, the mother goes about her
work as usual, carrying the child strapped on her back, and, in spite
of the load, she makes little, if any, difference in the amount of
her daily tasks. And, considering that all the severe work falls upon
the women, it is wonderful that they should contrive to do any work
at all under the circumstances. The two principal tasks of the women
are, breaking up the ground with a heavy and clumsy tool, something
between a pickaxe and a mattock, and grinding the daily supply of corn
between two stones, and either of these tasks would prove quite enough
for any ordinary laborer, though the poor woman has to perform both,
and plenty of minor tasks besides. That they should have to do all this
work, while laboring under the incumbrance of a heavy and growing child
hung on the back, does really seem very hard upon the women. But they,
having never known any other state of things, accept their laborious
married life as a matter of course.
When the mother carries her infant to the field, she mostly slings
it to her back by means of a wide strip of some soft skin, which she
passes round her waist so as to leave a sort of pocket behind in which
the child may lie. In this primitive cradle the little creature reposes
in perfect content, and not even the abrupt movements to which it is
necessarily subjected will disturb its slumbers.
The wife of a chief or wealthy man will not, however, rest satisfied
with the mere strip of skin by way of a cradle, but has one of an
elaborate and ornamental character. The illustration represents a
remarkably fine example of the South African cradle, and is drawn from
a specimen in my collection.
It is nearly two feet in length by one in width, and is made of
antelope skin, with the hair still remaining. The first care of the
maker has been to construct a bag, narrow toward the bottom, gradually
widening until within a few inches of the opening, when it again
contracts. This form very effectually prevents an active or restless
child from falling out of its cradle. The hairy side of the skin is
turned inward, so that the little one has a soft and pleasant cradle in
which to repose. In order to give it this shape, two “gores” have been
let into the back of the cradle, and are sewed with that marvellous
neatness which characterizes the workmanship of the Kaffir tribes. Four
long strips of the same skin are attached to the opening of the cradle,
and by means of them the mother can bind her little one securely on her
back.
As far as usefulness goes, the cradle is now complete, but the woman
is not satisfied unless ornament be added. Though her rank--the wife
of a chief--does not exonerate her from labor, she can still have the
satisfaction of showing her position by her dress, and exciting envy
among her less fortunate companions in the field. The entire front of
the cradle is covered with beads, arranged in regular rows. In this
specimen, two colors only are used; namely, black and white. The black
beads are polished glass, while the others are of the color which are
known as “chalk-white,” and which is in great favor with the Kaffirs,
on account of the contrast which it affords to their dusky skin. The
two central rows are black. The cradle weighs rather more than two
pounds, half of which is certainly due to the profusion of beads with
which it is covered.
Except under peculiar circumstances, the Kaffir mother is a kind, and
even indulgent parent to her children. There are, however, exceptional
instances, but, in these cases, superstition is generally the moving
power. As with many nations in different parts of the earth, although
abundance of children is desired, twins are not in favor; and when they
make their appearance one of them is sacrificed, in consequence of a
superstitious notion that, if both twins are allowed to live, something
unlucky would happen to the parents.
As the children grow, a certain difference in their treatment
is perceptible. In most savage nations, the female children are
comparatively neglected, and very ill treatment falls on them, while
the males are considered as privileged to do pretty well what they
like without rebuke. This, however, is not the case with the Kaffirs.
The parents have plenty of respect for their sons as the warriors of
the next generation, but they have also respect for their daughters as
a source of wealth. Every father is therefore glad to see a new-born
child, and welcomes it whatever may be its sex--the boys to increase
the power of his house, the girls to increase the number of his cattle.
He knows perfectly well that, when his little girl is grown up, he
can obtain at least eight cows for her, and that, if she happens to
take the fancy of a rich or powerful man, he may be fortunate enough
to procure twice the number. And, as the price which is paid to the
father of a girl depends very much on her looks and condition, she
is not allowed to be deteriorated by hard work or ill-treatment.
These generally come after marriage, and, as the wife does not expect
anything but such treatment, she does not dream of complaining.
The Kaffir is free from the chief anxieties that attend a large family
in civilized countries. He knows nothing of the thousand artificial
wants which cluster round a civilized life, and need not fear lest
his offspring should not be able to find a subsistence. Neither is
he troubled lest they should sink below that rank in which they were
born. Not that there are no distinctions of rank in Kaffirland. On
the contrary, there are few parts of the world where the distinctions
of rank are better appreciated, or more clearly defined. But, any one
may attain the rank of chief, provided that he possesses the mental or
physical characteristics that can raise him above the level of those
who surround him, and, as is well known, some of the most powerful
monarchs who have exercised despotic sway in Southern Africa have
earned a rank which they could not have inherited, and have created
monarchies where the country had formerly been ruled by a number of
independent chieftains. These points may have some influence upon the
Kaffir’s conduct as a parent, but, whatever may be the motives, the
fact remains, that among this fine race of savages there is no trace of
the wholesale infanticide which is so terribly prevalent among other
nations, and which is accepted as a social institution among some that
consider themselves among the most highly civilized of mankind.
As is the case in many parts of the world, the natives of South
Africa undergo a ceremony of some sort, which marks their transition
from childhood to a more mature age. There has been rather a sharp
controversy respecting the peculiar ceremony which the Kaffirs enjoin,
some saying that it is identical with the rite of circumcision as
practised by the Jews, and others that such a custom does not exist.
The fact is, that it used to be universal throughout Southern Africa,
until that strange despot, Tchaka, chose arbitrarily to forbid it
among the many tribes over which he ruled. Since his death, however,
the custom has been gradually re-introduced, as the men of the tribes
believed that those who had not undergone the rite were weaker than
would otherwise have been the case, and were more liable to gray hairs.
Now with a Kaffir a hoary head is by no means a crown of glory, but is
looked upon as a sign of debility. A chief dreads nothing so much as
the approach of gray hairs, knowing that the various sub-chiefs, and
other ambitious men who are rising about him, are only too ready to
detect any sign of weakness, and to eject him from his post. Europeans
who visit elderly chiefs are almost invariably asked if they have any
preparation that will dye their gray hairs black. So, the dread of such
a calamity occurring at an early age would be quite sufficient to make
a Kaffir resort to any custom which he fancied might prevent it.
After the ceremony, which is practised in secret, and its details
concealed with inviolable fidelity, the youths are permitted three
months of unlimited indulgence: doing no work, and eating, sleeping,
singing, and dancing, just as they like. They are then permitted to
bear arms, and, although still called “boys,” are trained as soldiers
and drafted into different regiments. Indeed, it is mostly from these
regiments that the chief selects the warriors whom he sends on the
most daring expeditions. They have nothing to lose and everything to
gain, and, if they distinguish themselves, may be allowed to assume the
“head-ring,” the proud badge of manhood, and to marry as many wives
as they can manage to pay for. A “boy”--no matter what his age might
be--would not dare to assume the head-ring without the permission
of his chief, and there is no surer mode of gaining permission than
by distinguished conduct in the field, whether in open fight, or in
stealing cattle from the enemy.
The necessity for undergoing some rite when emerging from childhood
is not restricted to the men, but is incumbent on the girls, who are
carried off into seclusion by their initiators, and within a year from
their initiation are allowed to marry.
CHAPTER III.
A KAFFIR’S LIFE, CONTINUED -- ADOLESCENCE -- BEAUTY OF FORM IN THE
KAFFIRS, AND REASONS FOR IT -- LIVING STATUES -- BENJAMIN WEST AND
THE APOLLO -- SHOULDERS OF THE KAFFIRS -- SPEED OF FOOT CONSIDERED
HONORABLE -- A KAFFIR MESSENGER AND HIS MODE OF CARRYING A LETTER
-- HIS EQUIPMENT FOR THE JOURNEY -- LIGHT MARCHING-ORDER -- HOW THE
ADDRESS IS GIVEN TO HIM -- CELERITY OF HIS TASK, AND SMALLNESS OF
HIS PAY -- HIS FEET AND THEIR NATURE -- THICKNESS OF THE SOLE, AND
ITS SUPERIORITY OVER THE SHOE -- ANECDOTE OF A SICK BOY AND HIS
PHYSICIAN -- FORM OF THE FOOT -- HEALTHY STATE OF A KAFFIR’S BODY --
ANECDOTE OF WOUNDED GIRL -- RAPIDITY WITH WHICH INJURIES ARE HEALED
-- YOUNG WOMEN, AND THEIR BEAUTY OF FORM -- PHOTOGRAPHIC PORTRAITS
-- DIFFICULTY OF PHOTOGRAPHING A KAFFIR -- THE LOCALITY, GREASE,
NERVOUSNESS -- SHORT TENURE OF BEAUTY -- FEATURES OF KAFFIR GIRLS --
OLD KAFFIR WOMEN AND THEIR LOOKS.
When the youths and maidens are in the full bloom of youth, they afford
as fine specimens of humanity as can be seen anywhere. Their limbs have
never been subject to the distorting influences of clothing, nor their
forms to the absurd compression which was, until recently, destructive
of all real beauty in this and neighboring countries. Each muscle and
sinew has had fair play, the lungs have breathed fresh air, and the
active habits have given to the form that rounded perfection which is
never seen except in those who have enjoyed similar advantages. We
all admire the almost superhuman majesty of the human form as seen in
ancient sculpture, and we need only to travel to Southern Africa to
see similar forms, yet breathing and moving, not motionless images of
marble, but living statues of bronze. This classic beauty of form is
not peculiar to Southern Africa, but is found in many parts of the
world where the inhabitants lead a free, active, and temperate life.
My readers will probably remember the well-known anecdote of West the
painter surprising the critical Italians with his remarks. Bred in a
Quaker family, he had no acquaintance with ancient art; and when he
first visited Rome, he was taken by a large assembly of art-critics
to see the Apollo Belvedere. As soon as the doors were thrown open,
he exclaimed that the statue represented a young Mohawk warrior, much
to the indignation of the critics, who foolishly took his exclamation
as derogatory to the statue, rather than the highest and most genuine
praise. The fact was, that the models from whom the sculptor had
composed his statue, and the young Mohawk warriors so familiar to West,
had received a similar physical education, and had attained a similar
physical beauty. “I have seen them often,” said West, “standing in the
very attitude of this Apollo, and pursuing with an intent eye the arrow
which they had just discharged from the bow.”
There is, indeed, but one fault that the most captious critic can
find with the form of the Kaffir, and that is, a slight deficiency
in the fall of the shoulder. As a race, the Kaffirs are slightly
high-shouldered, though there are many instances where the slope from
the neck to the arm is exactly in accordance with the canons of classic
art.
These young fellows are marvellously swift of foot, speed reckoning
as one of the chief characteristics of a distinguished soldier. They
are also possessed of enormous endurance. You may send a Kaffir for
sixty or seventy miles with a letter, and he will prepare for the start
as quietly as if he had only a journey of some three or four miles
to perform. First, he cuts a stick some three feet in length, splits
the end, and fixes the letter in the cleft, so that he may carry the
missive without damaging it by the grease with which his whole person
is liberally anointed. He then looks to his supply of snuff, and,
should he happen to run short of that needful luxury, it will add wings
to his feet if a little tobacco be presented to him, which he can make
into snuff at his first halt.
[Illustration: (1.) YOUNG KAFFIR ARMED. (See page 20.)]
[Illustration: (2.) KAFFIR POSTMAN. (See page 20.)]
Taking an assagai or two with him, and perhaps a short stick with a
knob at the end, called a “kerry,” he will start off at a slinging
sort of mixture between a run and a trot, and will hold this pace
almost without cessation. As to provision for the journey, he need not
trouble himself about it, for he is sure to fall in with some hut,
or perhaps a village, and is equally sure of obtaining both food and
shelter. He steers his course almost as if by intuition, regardless of
beaten tracks, and arrives at his destination with the same mysterious
certainty that characterizes the migration of the swallow.
It is not so easy to address a letter in Africa as in England, and it
is equally difficult to give directions for finding any particular
house or village. If a chief should be on a visit, and ask his host
to return the call, he simply tells him to go so many days in such a
direction, and then turn for half a day in another direction, and so
on. However, the Kaffir is quite satisfied with such indications, and
is sure to attain his point.
When the messenger has delivered his letter, he will squat down on
the ground, take snuff, or smoke--probably both--and wait patiently
for the answer. As a matter of course, refreshments will be supplied
to him, and, when the answer is handed to him, he will return at the
same pace. Europeans are always surprised when they first see a young
Kaffir undertake the delivery of a letter at so great a distance, and
still more at the wonderfully short time in which he will perform the
journey. Nor are they less surprised when they find that he thinks
himself very well paid with a shilling for his trouble. In point of
fact, the journey is scarcely troublesome at all. He has everything his
own way. There is plenty of snuff in his box, tobacco wherewith to make
more, the prospect of seeing a number of fellow-countrymen on the way,
and enjoying a conversation with them, the dignity of being a messenger
from one white chief to another, and the certainty of obtaining a sum
of money which will enable him to adorn himself with a splendid set of
beads at the next dance.
Barefoot though he be, he seldom complains of any hurt. From constant
usage the soles of his feet are defended by a thickened skin as
insensible as the sole of any boot, and combining equal toughness with
perfect elasticity. He will walk with unconcern over sharp stones
and thorns which would lame a European in the first step, and has
the great advantage of possessing a pair of soles which never wear
out, but actually become stronger by use. Mr. Baines, the African
hunter, narrates a rather ludicrous instance of the insensibility of
the Kaffir’s foot. Passing by some Kaffir houses, he heard doleful
outcries, and found that a young boy was undergoing a medical or
surgical operation, whichever may be the proper name. The boy was
suffering from some ailment for which the medicine-man prescribed a
thorough kneading with a hot substance. The plan by which the process
was carried out was simple and ingenious. A Kaffir man held his own
foot over the fire until the sole became quite hot. The boy was
then held firmly on the ground, while the man trampled on him with
the heated foot, and kneaded him well with this curious implement
of medicine. When that foot was cold, he heated the other, and so
proceeded till the operation was concluded. The heat of his sole was so
great that the poor boy could scarcely endure the pain, and struggled
hard to get free, but the operator felt no inconvenience whatever from
subjecting his foot to such an ordeal. The dreaded “stick” of the
Orientals would lose its terrors to a Kaffir, who would endure the
bastinado with comparative impunity.
Among these people, the foot assumes its proper form and dimensions.
The toes are not pinched together by shoes or boots, and reduced to
the helpless state too common in this country. The foot is, like that
of an ancient statue, wide and full across the toes, each of which has
its separate function just as have the fingers of the hand, and each
of which is equally capable of performing that function. Therefore the
gait of a Kaffir is perfection itself. He has not had his foot lifted
behind and depressed in front by high-heeled boots, nor the play of the
instep checked by leathern bonds. The wonderful arch of the foot--one
of the most astonishing pieces of mechanism that the world affords--can
perform its office unrestrained, and every little bone, muscle and
tendon plays its own part, and none other.
The constant activity of the Kaffirs, conjoined to their temperate
mode of life, keeps them in perfect health, and guards them against
many evils which befall the civilized man. They are free from many of
the minor ailments incident to high civilization, and which, trifling
as they may be singly, detract greatly in the aggregate from the
happiness of life. Moreover, their state of health enables them to
survive injuries which would be almost instantly fatal to any ordinary
civilized European. That this comparative immunity is owing to the
mode of life and not to the color of the skin is a well-known fact,
Europeans being, when in thorough good health, even more enduring
than their dark-skinned companions. A remarkable instance of this
fact occurred during the bloody struggle between the Dutch colonists
and Dingan’s forces in 1837. The Kaffirs treacherously assaulted the
unsuspecting Dutchmen, and then invaded their villages, spearing all
the inhabitants and destroying the habitations. Near the Blue Krantz
River was a heap of dead, among whom were found two young girls, who
still showed signs of life. One had received nineteen stabs with the
assagai, and the other twenty-one. They were removed from the corpses,
and survived their dreadful wounds, reaching womanhood, though both
crippled for life.
On one occasion, while I was conversing with Captain Burton, and
alluding to the numerous wounds which he had received, and the little
effect which they had upon him, he said that when the human frame was
brought, by constant exercise and simple diet, into a state of perfect
health, mere flesh wounds were scarcely noticed, the cut closing
almost as easily as if it had been made in India-rubber. It may also
be familiar to my readers, that when in this country men are carefully
trained for any physical exertion, whether it be pedestrianism,
gymnastics, rowing, or the prize-ring, they receive with indifference
injuries which would have prostrated them a few months previously, and
recover from them with wonderful rapidity.
The young Kaffir women are quite as remarkable for the beauty of their
form as are the men, and the very trifling dress which they wear serves
to show off their figures to the best advantage. Some of the young
Kaffir girls are, in point of form, so perfect that they would have
satisfied even the fastidious taste of the classical sculptor. There
is, however, in them the same tendency to high shoulders which has
already been mentioned, and in some cases the shoulders are set almost
squarely across the body. In most instances, however, the shoulders
have the proper droop, while the whole of the bust is an absolute model
of perfection--rounded, firm, and yet lithe as the body of a panther.
There is now before me a large collection of photographs, representing
Kaffir girls of various ages, and, in spite of the invariable stiffness
of photographic portraits, they exhibit forms which might serve as
models for any sculptor. If they could only have been photographed
while engaged in their ordinary pursuits, the result would have been
most artistic, but the very knowledge that they were not to move hand
or foot has occasioned them to assume attitudes quite at variance with
the graceful unconsciousness of their ordinary gestures.
Besides the stiffness which has already been mentioned, there are
several points which make a really good photographic portrait almost
an impossibility. In the first place, the sunlight is so brilliant
that the shadows become developed into black patches, and the high
lights into splashes of white without the least secondary shading. The
photographer of Kaffir life cannot put his models into a glass room
cunningly furnished with curtains and tinted glass. He must take the
camera into the villages, photograph the inhabitants as they stand or
sit in the open air, and make a darkened hut act as a developing-tent.
Taking the portrait properly is a matter of extreme difficulty. The
Kaffirs _will_ rub themselves with grease, and the more they shine the
better they are dressed. Now, as every photographer knows, nothing is
more perplexing than a rounded and polished surface in the full rays
of the sunbeams; and if it were only possible to rub the grease from
the dark bodies, and deprive them of their gloss, the photographer
would have a better chance of success. But the Kaffir ladies, old and
young alike, think it a point of honor to be dressed in their very
best when their portraits are taken, and will insist upon bedizening
themselves exactly in the way which is most destructive to photography.
They take fresh grease, and rub their bodies until they shine like a
well-polished boot; they indue every necklace, girdle, bracelet, or
other ornament that they can muster, and not until they are satisfied
with their personal appearance will they present themselves to the
artist. Even when they have done so, they are restless, inquisitive,
and rather nervous, and in all probability will move their heads
just as the cap of the lens is removed, or will take fright and
run away altogether. In the case of the two girls represented in
the illustration, on page 25, the photographer has been singularly
fortunate. Both the girls belonged to the tribe commanded by the
well-known chief Goza, whose portrait will be given on a subsequent
page. The girls are clad in their ordinary costume of every-day life,
and in fact, when their portraits were taken, were acting as housemaids
in the house of an European settler.
Unfortunately, this singular beauty of form is very transient; and when
a girl has attained to the age at which an English girl is in her full
perfection, the Kaffir girl has begun to age, and her firm, lithe,
and graceful form has become flabby and shapeless. In the series of
portraits which has been mentioned, this gradual deterioration of form
is curiously evident; and in one example, which represents a row of
girls sitting under the shade of a hut, young girls just twenty years
of age look like women of forty.
[Illustration: (1.) UNMARRIED KAFFIR GIRLS. (See page 21.)]
[Illustration: (2.) OLD KAFFIR WOMEN. (See page 27.)]
The chief drawback to a Kaffir girl’s beauty lies in her face, which
is never a beautiful one, according to European ideas on this subject.
It is mostly a pleasant, good-humored face, but the cheek-bones are
too high, the nose too wide, and the lips very much too large. The
two which have been already represented are by far the most favorable
specimens of the collection, and no one can say that their faces are in
any way equal to their forms. It may be that their short, crisp, harsh,
woolly hair, so different from the silken tresses of European women,
produces some feeling of dislike; but, even if they were furnished with
the finest and most massive head of hair, they could never be called
handsome. People certainly do get used to their peculiar style, and
sometimes prefer the wild beauty of a Kaffir girl to the more refined,
though more insipid, style of the European. Still, few Englishmen would
think themselves flattered if their faces were thought to resemble the
features of a Kaffir of the same age, and the same rule will apply to
the women as well as to the men.
Unfortunately, the rapidity with which the Kaffir women deteriorate
renders them very unsightly objects at an age in which an European
woman is in her prime. Among civilized nations, age often carries with
it a charming mixture of majesty and simplicity, which equally command
our reverence and our love. Among this people, however, we find nothing
in their old age to compensate for the lost beauty of youth. They do
not possess that indefinable charm which is so characteristic of the
old age of civilized woman, nor is there any vestige of that spiritual
beauty which seems to underlie the outward form, and to be even more
youthful than youth itself. Perhaps one reason for this distinction may
be the uncultivated state of the mind; but, whatever may be the cause,
in youth the Kaffir woman is a sylph, in old age a hag.
CHAPTER IV.
DRESS AND ORNAMENTS -- DRESS OF THE MEN -- DRESS DEPENDENT ON COUNTRY
FOR MATERIAL -- SKIN THE CHIEF ARTICLE OF DRESS IN SOUTHERN AFRICA
-- FUR-PRODUCING ANIMALS -- A KAROSS OR CLOAK OF MEERKAT SKIN --
ANOTHER OF JACKAL SKINS -- NATIVE TASTE IN DRESS -- PROFESSIONAL
KAROSS MAKERS -- NEEDLE USED BY THE KAFFIRS -- ITS CLUMSY SHAPE AND
DIMENSIONS -- ITS LEATHER SHEATH -- A FASHIONABLE NEEDLE AND ITS BELT
OF BEADS -- TASTEFUL ARRANGEMENT OF COLOR -- THREAD USED BY KAFFIRS
-- SINGULAR MATERIAL AND MODE OF PREPARING IT -- HOW A KAFFIR SEWS
-- A MAN’S ORDINARY DRESS -- THE APRON OR “TAILS” -- SPECIMEN IN MY
COLLECTION -- BRASS BUTTONS -- THE “ISINENE” AND “UMUCHA” -- PORTRAIT
OF GOZA -- OBESITY OF THE CHIEFS -- FULL DRESS AND UNDRESS -- A
KAFFIR AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Having now described the general appearance of the Kaffirs from
childhood to age, we will proceed to the costume which they wear,
and the ornaments with which they decorate their dark persons. The
material of which dress is made depends much on the characteristics
of the country. In some parts of the world linen is used, in another
silk, and in another cotton. In Southern Africa, however, and indeed
throughout a very large portion of the continent, the dress, whether of
men or women, is composed of the skins and furs of animals. The country
abounds in game, especially of the antelope tribe; and the antelopes,
the zebras and their kin, the beasts of prey, the monkey tribes and the
oxen, afford a vast store from which the Kaffir can take his clothing,
and vary it almost without bounds.
The Kaffir is an admirable dresser of furs. He bestows very great pains
on the process, and arrives at a result which cannot be surpassed by
the best of European furriers, with all his means and appliances.
Kaffir furs, even those made from the stiff and stubborn hide of the
ox, are as soft and pliable as silk; and if they be wetted, they will
dry without becoming harsh and stiff. For large and thick skins a
peculiar process is required. The skin of the cow, for example, will
become as hard as a board when dry, and even that of the lion is apt to
be very stiff indeed when dried. The process of preparing such skins is
almost absurdly simple and expeditious, while its efficacy is such that
our best fur-dressers cannot produce such articles as the Kaffirs do.
Supposing that a cow-skin is to be made into a robe, the Kaffir will
ask two or three of his comrades to help him. They all sit round the
skin, and scrape it very carefully, until they have removed every
particle of fat, and have also reduced the thickness. They then stretch
it in every direction, pulling against each other with all their might,
working it over their knees, and taking care that not an inch of it
shall escape without thorough manipulation. Of course they talk, and
sing, and smoke, and take snuff while performing the task, which is to
them a labor of love. If, indeed, it were not, they would not perform
it, but hand it over to their wives. When they have kneaded it as much
as they think necessary, they proceed to another operation. They take
eight or ten of their skewer-like needles, and tie them together in a
bundle, each man being furnished with one of these bundles. The points
are then placed perpendicularly upon the skin, and the bundle made to
revolve backward and forward between the hands. This process tears up
the fibres of the skin, and adds to its pliancy, besides raising a
sort of nap, which in some of their dresses is so thick and fine as to
resemble plush.
Sometimes, when needles are scarce, the long straight thorns of the
acacia are tied together, and used in a similar manner. Although not
so strong, their natural points are quite as sharp as the artificial
points made of iron, and do their work as effectually. Some of my
readers may remember that the nap on cloth is raised by a method
exactly similar in principle, the thorny seed-vessels of the teasle
thistle being fastened on cylinders and made to revolve quickly over
the surface of the cloth, so as to raise a “nap” which conceals the
course of the threads. These acacia thorns are used for a wonderful
variety of purposes, and are even pressed into the service of personal
vanity, being used as decorations for the hair on festive occasions.
The skin is now ready for the ingredient that forms a succedaneum for
the tanpit, and that does its work in a very short time. As the reader
is perhaps aware, the acacia is one of the commonest trees in Southern
Africa. The sap of the tree is of a very astringent character, and
communicates its properties to the bark through which it percolates. In
consequence, the white inhabitants of Southern Africa are in the habit
of using the bark of the acacia just as in England we use the bark of
the oak, and find that it produces a similar effect upon skins that
are soaked in a strong solution of acacia bark in water. The native,
however, does not use the bark for this purpose, neither does he
practise the long and tedious process of tanning which is in use among
ourselves. The acacia tree supplies for him a material which answers
all the purposes of a tanpit, and does not require above a fraction of
the time that is employed in ordinary tanning.
The acacia trees are constantly felled for all sorts of purposes. The
hard wood is used in native architecture, in making the fence round
a kraal, in making wagon poles, and in many similar modes. The root
and stump are left to rot in the ground, and, thanks to the peculiar
climate and the attacks of insects, they soon rot away, and can be
crumbled with the fingers into a reddish yellow powder. This powder is
highly astringent, and is used by the Kaffirs for dressing their furs,
and is applied by assiduous rubbing in with the hand. Afterward, a
little grease is added, but not much, and this is also rubbed in very
carefully with the hand.
A large kaross is always worn with the furry side inward, and there
is a mode of putting it on which is considered highly fashionable. If
the robe is composed of several skins,--say, for example, those of
the jackal or leopard,--the heads are placed in a row along the upper
margin. When the Kaffir indues his kaross, he folds this edge over
so as to form a kind of cape, and puts it on in such a way that the
fur-clad heads fall in a row over his shoulders.
The rapidity with which a Kaffir will prepare a small skin is really
surprising. One of my friends was travelling in Southern Africa, and
saw a jackal cantering along, looking out for food. Presently, he
came across the scent of some steaks that were being cooked, and came
straight toward the wagon, thinking only of food, and heedless of
danger. One of the Kaffirs in attendance on the wagon saw the animal,
picked up a large stone, and awaited his coming. As he was nearing the
fire, the Kaffir flung the stone with such a good aim that the animal
was knocked over and stunned. The wagon started in an hour and a half
from that time, and the Kaffir who killed the jackal was seen wearing
the animal’s dressed skin. The skin of this creature is very much
prized for robes and similar purposes, as it is thick and soft, and the
rich black mottlings along the back give to the robe a very handsome
appearance.
I have before me a beautiful example of a kaross or cloak, made from
the skins of the meerkat, one of the South African ichneumons. It is a
pretty creature, the coat being soft and full, and the general color a
reddish tawny, variegated in some specimens by dark mottlings along the
back, and fading off into gray along the flanks. The kaross consists
of thirty-six skins, which are sewed together as neatly as any furrier
could sew them. The meerkat, being very tenacious of life, does not
succumb easily, and accordingly there is scarcely a skin which has not
been pierced in one or more places by the spear, in some instances
leaving holes through which a man’s finger could easily be passed. In
one skin there are five holes, two of them of considerable size. Yet,
when the kaross is viewed upon the hairy side, not a sign of a hole
is visible. With singular skill, the Kaffir fur-dresser has “let in”
circular pieces of skin cut from another animal, and done it so well
that no one would suspect that there had been any injury to the skin.
The care taken in choosing the color is very remarkable, because the
fur of the meerkat is extremely variable in color, and it must have
been necessary to compare a considerable number of skins, in order to
find one that was of exactly the right shade.
The mantle in question is wonderfully light, so light, indeed, that no
one would think it capable of imparting much warmth until he has tried
it. I always use it in journeys in cold weather, finding that it can
be packed in much less space than an ordinary railway rug, that it is
lighter to carry, and is warmer and more comfortable.
Although every Kaffir has some knowledge of skin-dressing and
tailoring, there are some who greatly surpass their companions, and
are popularly known as “kaross makers.” It is easy to tell at a glance
whether a garment is the work of an ordinary Kaffir, or of a regular
kaross maker. The kaross which has been noticed affords a good example
of both styles, which can be distinguished as easily by the touch as by
the sight.
When a kaross maker sets to work, he takes the two pieces of the fur
which he has to join, and places them together with the hairy side
inward, and the edges exactly matching each other. He then repeatedly
passes his long needle between the two pieces, so as to press the hair
downward, and prevent it from being caught in the thread. He then bores
a few holes in a line with each other, and passes the sinew fibre
through them, casting a single hitch over each hole, but leaving the
thread loose. When he has made two or three such holes, and passed the
thread through them, he draws them tight in regular succession, so that
he produces a sort of lock-stitch, and his work will not become loose,
even though it may be cut repeatedly. Finally, he rubs down the seam,
and, when properly done, the two edges lie as flat as if they were one
single piece of skin.
In the kaross before mentioned, the original maker was not one of the
professed tailors, but thought that he could do all the plain sewing
himself. Accordingly, the seams which connect the various skills
are rather rudely done, being merely sewed over and over, and are
in consequence raised above the level of the skins. But the various
patches that were required in order to complete the garment in its
integrity needed much more careful work, and this portion of the work
has been therefore intrusted to one of the professed kaross makers.
The difference of the seams is at once apparent, those made by the
unskilled workman being raised, harsh, and stiff; while those made by
the professional are quite flat, and look exactly like the well-known
lock-stitch of our sewing machines.
A singularly handsome specimen of a kaross is now before me. It is made
of the skins of the gray jackal, and, although not so attractive to
European eyes as if it had been made from the skin of the black-backed
jackal, is, in a Kaffir’s estimation, a far more valuable article,
inasmuch as the gray species is much rarer than the black-backed.
The man who designed this kaross may fairly be entitled to the name
of artist. It is five feet three inches in depth, and very nearly six
feet in width, and therefore a considerable number of skins have been
used in making it. But the skins have not merely been squared and then
sewed together, the manufacturer having in his mind a very bold design.
Most persons are aware, that in the majority of animals, the jackal
included, the skin is darkest along the back, a very dark stripe runs
along the spine, and that the fur fades into whitish gray upon the
flanks and under the belly. The kaross maker has started with the idea
of forming the cloak on the same principle, and making it look as if
it were composed of one large skin. Accordingly, he has selected the
darkest skins for the centre of the kaross, and arranged them so that
they fade away into gray at the edges. This is done, not by merely
putting the darker skins in the middle, and the lighter toward the
edges, but by cutting the skins into oblong pieces of nearly the same
size, and sewing them together so neatly that the lines of junction are
quite invisible. All the heads are set in a row along the upper edges,
and, being worked very flat, can be turned over, and form a kind of
cape, as has already been mentioned. The lower edge of the kaross has a
very handsome appearance, the gray color of the fur rapidly deepening
into black, which makes a broad stripe some four inches in depth. This
is obtained by taking the skin of the paws, which are very black, and
sewing them to the cape of the mantle.
Of course, a Kaffir has no knowledge of gloves, but there are seasons
when he really wants some covering for his hands. A creature of the
sun, he cannot endure cold; and in weather when the white men are
walking in their lightest clothing and exulting in the unaccustomed
coolness, the Kaffir is wrapped in his thickest kaross, cowering over
the fire, and absolutely paralyzed, both bodily and mentally, with
the cold. He therefore makes certain additions to his kaross, and so
forms a kind of shelter for the hands. About two feet from the top
of the kaross, and on the outer edges, are a pair of small wings or
projections, about a foot in length, and eight inches in width. When
the Kaffir puts on the kaross, he doubles the upper part to form the
cape, turns the furry side within, grasps one of these winglets with
each hand, and then wraps it round his shoulders. The hands are thus
protected from the cold, and the upper part of the body is completely
covered. The kaross descends as far as the knees in front, and is
about a foot longer at the sides and at the back. The whole edge of
the kaross is bound on the inside with a narrow band of thin, but very
strong membrane, and is thus rendered less liable to be torn. The
membrane is obtained as follows. A skin of some animal, usually one of
the antelopes, is rolled up and buried in the ground until a certain
amount of putrefaction takes place. It is then removed, and the Kaffir
splits it by introducing his knife, and then, with a quick jerk, strips
off the membranous skin. If it does not separate easily, the skin is
replaced in the ground, and left for a day or two longer.
This fine specimen was brought from Southern Africa by Mr. Christie,
who has had it in constant use as a railway rug and for similar
purposes for some fourteen years, and it is still as serviceable as
ever. I ought to mention that both this and my own kaross were made
by Bechuanas, and not by Zulus, the latter tribe always using for
their kaross a single hide of an ox dressed soft. The peculiar mode
of manipulating a hide when dressing it is called “braying,” perhaps
because it bears some resemblance to the “braying” or rubbing of a
substance in a mortar, as distinguished from pounding it. A handful of
the hide is taken in each hand and gathered up, so as to form two or
three wrinkles on the fleshy side. The wrinkles are then rubbed on each
other, with a peculiar twisting movement, which is almost identical
with that of the gizzard in grain-eating birds.
Of similar skins the Kaffir makes a kind of bag in which he puts his
pipe, tobacco, and various other little comforts. This bag, which
is popularly called a knapsack, deserves more rightly the name of
haversack, as it is not carried on the back, but slung to the side. It
is made of the skin of some small animal, such as a hare or a hyrax,
and is formed in a very simple manner. When the Kaffir has killed the
animal, he strips off the skin by making a cut, not along the belly, as
is the usual fashion, but from one hind leg to the other. By dint of
pushing and pulling, he contrives to strip off the skin, and of course
turns it inside out in so doing, much as is the case when a taxidermist
skins a snake or frog. The skin is then “brayed” in the ordinary
fashion, while the furry side is inward; and when this operation is
completed, the mouth, ears and eyelids are sewed up, and it is then
reversed so as to bring the fur outward. Straps are attached to the
two hind legs, so that the wearer can sling the bag over his shoulder.
The natives put these bags to all kinds of uses, some of them being
rather odd according to our ideas. It has been mentioned that the pipe,
tobacco, and other little articles which a Kaffir has, are kept in the
bag. If, perchance, the wearer should discover a bees’ nest, he empties
his “knapsack,” turns it inside out, shakes it well in order to get
rid of the scraps of tobacco and other debris of a Kaffir’s pouch, and
then proceeds to attack the bees. When he has succeeded in reaching the
honeycombs, he removes them from the nest, puts them into the bag, and
goes off with his prize, regardless of the state in which the interior
of the bag will be left.
The skill of the Kaffir in sewing fur is the more notable when we take
into consideration the peculiar needle and thread which he uses. The
needle is not in the least like the delicate, slender articles employed
by European seamstresses. In the first place, it has no eye; and in the
second, it is more like a skewer than a needle. If any of my classical
readers will recall to their minds the “stylus” which the ancients used
instead of a pen, he will have a very good idea of a Kaffir’s needle.
As the Kaffir likes to carry his needle about with him, he makes a
sheath or case of leather. There is great variety in these cases. The
simplest are merely made of strips of hide rolled round the needle, and
sewed together at the edges.
The most ornamental needle that I have seen was brought to England
by the late H. Jackson, Esq., who kindly placed it and the rest of
his valuable collection at my disposal. This needle is represented at
fig. 1, in the illustration “Kaffir needles,” page 33. It is of the
ordinary shape, though much larger than most that are used; but it is
upon the sheath and its ornaments that the proud owner has lavished his
powers. The sheath is made of leather, but is modelled into a curious
pattern, which may be easily imitated. Roll up a tube of paper, about
the third of an inch in diameter. At an inch from the end, pinch it
tightly between the right thumb and finger, until it is squeezed flat.
Still retaining the grasp, pinch it with the left hand just below the
finger and thumb of the right, and at right angles to them. Proceed in
this manner until the whole of it has been pinched. Then, if we suppose
that the tube is made of raw hide thoroughly wetted, that a well oiled
needle is placed in it, and that the leather is worked carefully
upon the needle so as to make a sheath, ornamented with flattened
projections at right angles to each other, we shall see how the sheath
is made.
The siring of beads by which it is hung around the neck is put together
with great taste. The pale-tinted beads are white with rings of
scarlet, and the others are blue with large spots of white, the whole
forming a very artistic contrast with the skin of the wearer. The best
point of this needle case is, however, the ornament which hangs to it
just by the head of the needle. This is a piece of rhinoceros horn,
cut into the shape of a buffalo head and part of the neck--very much,
indeed, as if it had been intended for the handle of a seal. The skill
with which the artist--for he really deserves the name--has manipulated
this stubborn substance is really admirable. The sweep of the animal’s
horns is hit off with a boldness of line and a freedom of execution
that would scarcely be expected from a savage. That he should make an
accurate representation of the animal was likely enough, considering
his familiarity with the subject, but that he should be able to carve
with his assagai-blade so artistic a design could hardly have been
expected from him.
By the side of this needle hangs another, which I have introduced
because the sheath, instead of being made of leather, is a wooden tube,
closed at one end, and guarded at both ends by a thong of raw hide
rolled round it.
As the Kaffirs employ needles of this description, it is evident that
they cannot use the same kind of thread as ourselves, since a cotton
thread would not make its way through the leather, and therefore the
Kaffir has recourse to the animal kingdom for his thread as well as for
his garments. The thread is made of the sinews of various animals, the
best being made of the sinews taken from the neck of a giraffe. One of
these bundles of thread is now before me, and a curious article it
is--stiff, angular, elastic, and with an invincible tendency to become
entangled among the other objects of the collection. Few persons to
whom it is shown for the first time will believe that it is thread, and
mostly fancy that I am trying to take advantage of their ignorance.
When this strange thread is wanted for use, it is steeped in hot
water until it is quite soft, and is then beaten between two smooth
stones. This process causes it to separate into filaments, which can
be obtained of almost any degree of strength or fineness. The sinew
thus furnishes a thread of astonishing strength when compared with its
diameter, surpassing even the silk grass of Guiana in that respect.
When a Kaffir wishes to sew, he prepares some of this thread, squats
on the ground, takes his needle, and bores two little holes in the
edges of the garment on which he is working. He then pushes the thread
through the holes thus made, and makes two more holes opposite each
other. He continues to draw the stitches tight as he proceeds, and
thus gets on with his work at a rate which would certainly not pay a
seamstress in this country, but which is very well suited to Africa,
where time is not of the least value. As he works with wet sinew upon
wet hide, it naturally follows that, in the process of drying, the
seams become enormously strengthened, the stitches being drawn tightly
by the contraction of sinew, and the contraction of the hide forcing
the stitches deeply into its own substance, and almost blending them
together. So, although the work is done very slowly, one of our sewing
machines being equal to a hundred Kaffirs, or thereabouts, in point of
speed, it is done with a degree of efficacy that no machine can ever
approach. I have in my collection very many examples of Kaffir sewing,
and in every instance the firmness and solidity of the workmanship are
admirable. Their fur-sewing is really wonderful, for they use very
close stitches, very fine thread, and join the pieces so perfectly that
the set of the hairs is not disturbed, and a number of pieces will look
and feel exactly as if they were one single skin.
We will begin an account of Kaffir dress with the ordinary costume
of a man. Until he approaches manhood, the Kaffir does not trouble
himself about so superfluous a luxury as dress. He may wear beads and
ornaments, but he is not troubled with dress in our acceptation of the
word. When he becomes a man, however, he assumes the peculiar apron
which may be seen by reference to any of the illustrations of Kaffir
men. This garment is intended to represent the tails of animals, and
by Europeans is generally called by that name. Thus, instead of saying
that a man has put on his dress or his apron, he is said to have put
on his “tails.” It is notable, by the way, that this form of dress
extends over a considerable part of Africa, and is common to both
sexes, though the details are carried out in a different manner. The
principal is a belt round the waist, with a number of thongs depending
from it, and we find this characteristic dress as far northward as
Egypt. Indeed, strings or thongs form a considerable portion, not only
of a Kaffir’s dress, but of his ornaments, as will be seen presently.
The apron of the men is called “isinene,” and is conventionally
supposed to be made of the tails of slain leopards, lions, or
buffaloes, and to be a trophy of the wearer’s courage as well as a mark
of his taste in dress. Such a costume is sometimes, though very rarely,
seen; there being but few Kaffirs who have killed enough of these
ferocious beasts to make the “isinene” of their tails. I have one which
was presented to me by Captain Drayson, R.A., who bought it, together
with many other objects, after the late Kaffir war. It is represented
by fig. 1 in the illustration of “Costume” on page 33. It is made of
strips of monkey skin, each about an inch and a half in width. These
strips have been snipped half through on either side alternately, and
then twisted so as to make furry cylinders, having the hair on the
outside, and being fixed in that position until dry and tolerably
stiff. There are fourteen of these strips, each being about fourteen
inches long, but those in the middle exceeding the others by an inch or
two.
The strips or “tails” are gathered together above, and sewed firmly
to a broad belt of the same material, which is so covered with red
and white beads that the leather cannot be seen. Across the belt are
two rows of conical brass buttons, exactly identical with those that
decorate the jacket of the modern “page.” These brass buttons seem to
charm a Kaffir’s heart. He cannot have too many of them, and it is
his delight and pride to keep them burnished to the highest amount of
polish which brass will take. I have various specimens of dress or
ornament formerly belonging to Kaffirs of both sexes, and, in almost
every instance where the article has been very carefully made, at least
one brass button is attached to it.
[Illustration: KAFFIR ORNAMENTS. (See pages 36, 37, 46, 52.)]
[Illustration: KAFFIR NEEDLES & SHEATHS. (See p. 31.)]
[Illustration: ARTICLES OF KAFFIR COSTUME. (See pages 32, 51.)]
[Illustration: DOLLS. (See pages 32, 52.)]
As long as the Kaffir stands or sits, the “isinene” hangs rather
gracefully, and reminds the spectator of the sporran or skin pouch,
which forms part of the Highlander’s dress. But when he runs,
especially when he is rushing at full speed, the tails fly about in all
directions, and have a most ludicrous effect, almost as if a bundle of
living eels or snakes had been tied round the man’s waist. If a Kaffir
should be too lazy to take the trouble of making so elaborate a set
of “tails,” he merely cuts his “isinene” out of a piece of skin. An
example of this kind of apron is seen in the illustration, “Dolls,” 33d
page, which represents a pair of figures, a Kaffir and his wife, made
by the natives out of leather. Here the male figure, on the right, is
shown as wearing the isinene, and having besides a short kaross, or
cloak, over his shoulders. These figures are in my own collection, and
will be more particularly described when we come to the dress of Kaffir
females.
Most of the men wear a similar duplicate of this apron, which falls
behind, and corresponds with the isinene; this second apron is called
the “umucha,” and is mostly made of one piece of skin. Its use is not,
however, universal, and indeed, when in his own kraal or village, the
Kaffir does not trouble himself about either isinene or umucha, and
considers himself quite sufficiently clothed with a necklace and a
snuff box.
An illustration on page 117, gives a good idea of the appearance
presented by a Kaffir of rank in his ordinary dress. It is a portrait
of Goza, the well-known Zulu chief, whose name came prominently forward
during the visit of Prince Albert to the Cape. He is one of the most
powerful chiefs of the Zulu tribe, and can at any moment summon into
the field his five or six thousand trained and armed warriors. Yet
in ordinary life he is not to be distinguished from the meanest of
his subjects by any distinction of dress. An experienced eye would,
however, detect his rank at a single glance, even though he were not
even clad in his “tails.” He is fat, and none but chiefs are fat in
Kaffirland. In fact, none but chiefs have the opportunity, because
the inferior men are forced to such constantly active employment, and
live on such irregular nourishment, that they have no opportunity of
accumulating fat.
But a chief has nothing whatever to do, except to give his orders,
and if those orders are within human capacity they will be executed.
Tchaka once ordered his warriors to catch a lion with their unarmed
hands, and they did it, losing, of course, many of their number in the
exploit. The chief can eat beef and porridge all day long if he likes,
and he mostly does like. Also, he can drink as much beer as he chooses,
and always has a large vessel at hand full of that beverage. Panda,
the king of the Zulu tribes, was notable for being so fat that he
could hardly waddle; but, as the reader will soon be presented with a
portrait of this doubly great monarch, nothing more need be said about
him.
As to Goza, he is a wealthy man, possessing vast herds of cattle,
besides a great number of wives, who, as far as can be judged by their
portraits, are not beautiful according to European ideas of beauty, but
are each representatives of a considerable number of cows. He wields
undisputed sway over many thousands of subjects, and takes tribute
from them. Yet he dresses on ordinary occasions like one of his own
subjects, and his house is just one of the ordinary huts of which a
village is composed. When he wishes to appear officially, he alters his
style of dress, and makes really a splendid appearance in all the pomp
of barbaric magnificence. Also, when he mixes with civilization, he
likes to be civilized in dress, and makes his appearance dressed as an
Englishman, in a silk hat, a scarlet coat, and jackboots, and attended
in his rides by an aide-de-camp, dressed in a white-plumed cocked hat,
and nothing else.
A portrait of Goza in his full war-dress is given in the chapter that
treats of Kaffir warfare.
CHAPTER V.
ORNAMENTS WORN BY KAFFIR MEN -- BEADS, BUTTONS, AND STRINGS --
FASHIONABLE COLORS OF BEADS -- GOOD TASTE OF THE KAFFIRS -- CAPRICES
OF FASHION -- GOZA’S YOUNG WARRIORS -- CURIOUS BEAD ORNAMENT -- A
SEMI-NECKLACE -- A BEAD BRACELET, AND MODE OF CONSTRUCTION -- A
CHEAP NECKLACE -- TWO REMARKABLE NECKLACES -- ORNAMENTS MADE OF
LEATHERN THONGS -- OX-TAILS USED AS ORNAMENTS, AND INDICATIONS OF
THE WEALTH OF THEIR OWNER -- THE SKULL USED FOR A SIMILAR PURPOSE --
A YOUNG KAFFIR IN FULL DRESS -- CURIOUS DECORATIONS OF THE HEAD --
THE ISSIKOKO, OR HEAD-RING -- KAFFIR CHIVALRY -- PICTURESQUE ASPECT
OF THE KAFFIR -- THE EYE AND THE NOSTRIL -- THE KAFFIR PERFUME, AND
ITS TENACITY -- CLEANLY HABITS OF THE KAFFIR -- CONDITIONS ALTER
CIRCUMSTANCES -- ANOTHER METHOD OF DRESSING SKINS -- THE BLANKET
AND THE KAROSS -- ARMLETS, ANKLETS, AND BRACELETS -- A SIMPLE GRASS
BRACELET -- IVORY ARMLETS, AND METHOD OF CONSTRUCTION -- BEAD ARMLETS
-- METALLIC ARMLETS -- AN ANCIENT ROYAL ARMLET OF BRASS -- IRON
ARMLETS -- A NEW METAL -- ITS ADOPTION BY THE CHIEFS -- SINGULAR
SUPERSTITION, AND ABANDONMENT OF THE METAL -- DEATH OF THE DISCOVERER.
As to the ornaments which a Kaffir man wears, they may be summed up
in three words--beads, buttons, and strings, all three being often
employed in the manufacture of one ornament. All the beads come from
Europe, and there is as much fashion in them as in jewelry among
civilized nations. The Kaffirs will have nothing to do with beads
that do not form a good contrast with the dark skin of the wearer, so
that beads which would be thought valuable, even in England, would be
utterly contemned by the poorest Kaffir. Dark blue, for example, are
extremely unfashionable, while light azure blue are in great favor.
Those beads which contain white and red are the most valued; and if it
were possible to make beads which would have the dazzling whiteness of
snow, or the fiery hue of the scarlet verbena, almost any price might
be obtained for them in Kaffirland.
The capriciousness of fashion is quite as great among the Kaffirs as
among Europeans, and the bead trade is, therefore, very precarious,
beads which would have been purchased at a very high price one year
being scarcely worth their freight in the next. Still, there is one
rule which may always guide those who take beads as a medium of
barter among savages. The beads should always contrast boldly with
the color of the skin. Now, the average color of a Kaffir is a very
dark chocolate; and if the intended trader among these tribes wishes
to make a successful speculation, he cannot do better than have a lay
figure painted of a Kaffir’s color, and try the effect of the beads
upon the image. Beads cannot be too brilliant for a savage, and almost
any small articles which will take a high polish and flash well in the
sunshine will find a market.
Having procured his beads, either by exchange of goods or by labor,
the Kaffir proceeds to adorn himself with them. In a photograph before
me, representing a group of young warriors belonging to Goza’s army,
three of the men have round their necks strings of beads which must
weigh several pounds, while another has a broad belt of beads passing
over the shoulder just like the sash of a light infantry officer. The
ordinary mode of wearing them is in strings round the neck, but a
Kaffir of ingenuity devises various other fashions. If he has some very
large and very white beads, he will tie them round his forehead, just
over his eyebrows, allowing some of them to dangle over his nose, and
others on either side of the eyes. In “Kaffir ornaments” on page 33,
fig. 1, is shown a sash somewhat similar to that which has just been
mentioned, though it is not made wholly of beads. Its groundwork is a
vast number of small strings laid side by side, and bound at intervals
by bands of different colored beads, those toward the ends being white,
and the others scarlet, pink, or green. Its length is about eight
feet. A small portion is given on an enlarged scale, to show the mode
of structure. The other articles belong to female costume, and will be
described presently.
The group of ornaments illustrated upon page 33 is very interesting,
and is taken from specimens kindly lent me by the late H. Jackson,
Esq. The round article with dark centre (fig. 3) is the first which we
will notice. In form it resembles a hollow cone, or rather a Malay’s
hat, and is made of leather, ingeniously moulded and sewed while wet,
and then kept in its shape until dry. The whole of the interior is so
thickly covered with beads that the leather is quite concealed. The
beads in the centre are red, and the others are white. This ornament
is worn on the breast, and to all appearance must be a very awkward
article of decoration. If the _outside_ had been covered with beads,
it is easy to understand that it would have rested very comfortably on
the breast with its bead-covered apex projecting like a huge sugar-loaf
button. But, as the peak has to rest on the breast, the ornament must
sway about in a most uncomfortable manner.
The ornament at the bottom of the illustration is a semi-necklace, much
in request among the Kaffirs. A string is fastened to each upper corner
and then tied behind the neck, so that none of the beads are wasted
upon a back view of the person. The groundwork of this semi-necklace is
white, and the marks upon it are differently colored. Some of them are
red in the interior and edged with yellow, while in others these colors
are reversed. A narrow line of scarlet beads runs along the lower edge.
The necklace is formed of a sort of network, of which the meshes are
beads, so that as it is moved by the action of the body, the light
shines through the interstices, and has a very pretty effect.
A bracelet, also made of beads, is shown in the same illustration at
fig. 2. The beads are strung on threads, and then twisted together
so as to form a loose rope, very similar in construction to the rope
ring used so much by sailors, and known technically as a “grummet.”
The strings of beads are variously colored, and are arranged with
considerable taste, so that when they are twisted together the general
effect is very good.
There is a more common kind of beads which are called “chalk-white.”
Their only value is that they contrast well with the dark skin of the
wearer. Still, there are many young men who would be only too glad to
have even so simple a set of beads, for beads are money in Kaffirland,
and are not to be obtained without labor. However, ornament of some
kind the young men will have, and if they cannot obtain beads they will
wear some other ornament as a succedaneum for them.
One of these very simple necklaces is in my collection. It consists
merely of nuts, which the wearer could have for the picking. A hole
is bored through each nut, just above the smaller end, so that they
fit closely together, and stand boldly out, without showing the string
on which they are threaded. So closely do they lie that, although
the necklace is only just large enough to be passed over the head,
it contains more than a hundred nuts. The two necklaces which are
represented at the foot of the 39th page, have been selected because
they show how the native artist has first made a necklace of beads and
teeth, and has then imitated it in metal. No. 1 represents a bracelet
that is entirely made of beads and teeth. First, the maker has prepared
six or seven very fine leathern thongs, and has strung upon them black
glass beads of rather a small size. When he has formed rows of about an
inch and a half in length, he has placed in each string a single bead
of a much larger size, and being white in color, spotted with bright
blue. Another inch and a half of black beads follow, and then come the
teeth. These are the canine teeth of the leopard and other felidæ,
and are arranged in groups varying from three to five in number. A
tolerably large hole is bored through the base of each, and all the
strings are passed through them. The maker then goes on with the black
beads, then with the white, then with the teeth, and so on, until his
materials are exhausted, and the necklace finished.
The necklace No. 2 is of a far more ambitious character, and, whether
or not it has been made by the same artificer, it shows that the same
principle has been carried out. The former ornament belonged to a
man who had been skilful as a hunter, and who wore the teeth of the
slaughtered leopards as trophies of his valor and success. He would
also wear the skins, and lose no opportunity of showing what he had
done. But we will suppose that a Kaffir, who has some notion of working
in metal, saw the bracelet, and that he was fired with a desire to
possess one of a similar character. Leopards’ teeth he could not, of
course, possess without killing the animal for himself, because no one
who has achieved such a feat would sell to another the trophies of his
own prowess. So he has tried to imitate the coveted ornament as well
as he could; and though he might not possess either the skill or the
courage of the hunter, he could, at all events, make a necklace which
would resemble in shape that of his companion, be very much more showy,
and possess a considerable intrinsic value.
So he set up his forge, and, in a manner which will be described in
a future page, made his own bronze, brass, or bell-metal, and cast
a number of little cylinders. These he beat into shape with his
primitive hammer, and formed them into very tolerable imitations
of leopards’ teeth. Being now furnished with the material for his
necklace, he began to put it together. First, he strung rows of
chalk-white beads, and then a brass tooth. Next to the tooth comes a
large transparent glass bead, of ruby-red, decorated with white spots.
Then comes a tooth, then more beads, and so on, until the ornament has
been completed. In order to give the necklace an air of reality, he cut
a piece of bone so as to look like a very large tooth, and strung it in
the centre of the ornament, so as to fall on his chest.
This is really a handsome piece of workmanship, and when in use must
have a very excellent effect. The colors are selected with remarkable
taste, as nothing can look better on a dark skin than white and ruby.
Moreover, the metal teeth are burnished so as to glisten brilliantly
in the sun, and will dazzle the eye at the distance of some feet. Both
these necklaces are drawn from specimens in the collection of Colonel
Lane Fox.
It is a remarkable fact that good taste in color, if not in material,
seems to be inherent in the race, despite the very small amount of
clothes which either sex wears. When they become partially civilized,
especially if they owe any allegiance to missionaries, they assume
some portion of ordinary European costume. The men, whose wardrobe
is generally limited to a shirt and trousers, have little scope for
taste in dress; but the women always contrive to develop this faculty.
Whether in the gay colors of the gowns which they wear, or whether in
the more sober hue of the handkerchief which they invariably tie round
their heads, they always manage to hit upon a combination of colors
which harmonize with their complexions.
Perhaps it is fortunate that such should be the case, for the
assumption of European costume is, artistically speaking, anything but
an improvement in the appearance of a Kaffir, or, indeed, of any wearer
of a dark skin; and it is a curious fact, that the better the clothes,
the worse do they look. A young Kaffir, wearing nothing but his few
tufts of fur, moves with a free and upright gait, and looks like one of
nature’s noblemen. But the moment that he puts on the costume adopted
in civilized Europe, he loses every vestige of dignity, and even his
very gait is altered for the worse.
The metropolitan reader can easily witness such a metamorphosis by
visiting the Hammâm, or any similar establishment, where dark-skinned
attendants are employed. While engaged in their ordinary vocation,
clad with nothing but a cloth round their loins, they look just like
ancient statues endued with life, and it is impossible to avoid
admiring the graceful dignity of their gestures, as they move silently
about the room. But when any of them leave the room, and put on the
ordinary dress, the change is complete and disappointing, and it is
hardly possible to believe the identity of such apparently different
individuals. In the time long passed away, when Scotland was still
contesting with England, the statesmen of the latter country showed
no small knowledge of human nature when they forbade the use of the
Highland dress, and forced the Highlanders to abandon the picturesque
costume which seems to harmonize so well with the wild hills of their
native land. A Highlander in his kilt and tartan was not the same man
when in the costume of the Lowlander, and it was impossible for him
to feel the same pride in himself as when he wore the garb of the
mountaineer and the colors of his clan.
Many of the young men who cannot afford beads make bracelets,
necklaces, armlets, and anklets from the skins of animals. After
cutting the skin into strips, they twist the strips spirally, so as to
convert them into hollow ropes, having all the hair on the outside.
When made of prettily colored skins, these curious ornaments have a
very good, though barbaric effect. (See page 49.) By cutting the strips
spirally, almost any length can be obtained; and the consequence is,
that the young men sometimes appear with their bodies, legs, and arms
covered with these furry ropes.
Another kind of ornament of which the Kaffir is very fond is the tufted
tail of an ox. A man of consequence will sometimes wear a considerable
number of these tails. Some he will form into an apron, and others will
be disposed about his person in the quaintest possible style. He will
tie one under each knee, so as to bring it on the shin bone. Others he
will fix to leathern loops, and hang them loosely on his arms, like the
curious bracelet worn by Jung Bahadoor when in England. Some he will
divide into a multitude of strips, and sew them together so as to make
fringed belts, which he will tie round his waist, or with which he will
encircle the upper arms. Others, again, will be attached to his ankles,
and a man thus decorated is contemplated enviously by those not so
fortunate.
[Illustration: BRACELETS. (See page 52.)]
[Illustration: APRON OF CHIEF’S WIFE. (See page 51.)]
[Illustration: IVORY ARMLETS. (See page 46.)]
[Illustration: NECKLACES--BEADS AND TEETH. (See page 37.)]
The very fact of possessing such ornaments shows that the wearer must
be a rich man, and have slaughtered his own cattle. It is hardly
possible to obtain cow tails in any other method; for the owner of a
slain cow is sure to keep the tail for himself, and will not give so
valuable an ornament to another. For the same reason, when the cow has
been eaten up, its owner fastens the skull on the outside of his hut.
Every one who passes within sight can then see that a rich man lives in
that dwelling. Even when the tails are sold to Europeans, an absurdly
high price is asked for them. One of these arm-tufts is now before me.
The skin has been stripped from the tail, leaving a thong of eighteen
inches in length above the tuft of hair. This thong has then been
cut into three strips of half an inch in width, and the strips have
been rolled up spirally, as already described. As the slit is carried
to the very end of the tail, the tuft is spread open, and therefore
looks twice as large as would have been the case had it been left
untouched. Each of these tufts representing a cow, it is evident that
the possession of them shows that the owner must be wealthy enough,
not only to possess cows, but to have so many that he could afford to
slaughter them.
An illustration on page 43 represents a Kaffir who is both young and
rich, and who has put on his dress of ceremony for the purpose of
paying a visit. Under such circumstances, a Kaffir will exercise the
greatest care in selecting ornaments, and occupy hours in putting them
on to the best advantage. Among the furs used by the Kaffir for this
purpose is that of the Angora goat, its long soft hair working up
admirably into fringes and similar ornaments. Feathers of different
birds are worked into the head dress, and the rarer the bird and
the more brilliant the color the better is the wearer pleased. One
decoration which is sometimes worn on the head is a globular tuft,
several inches in diameter, formed from the feathers of a species of
roller. The lovely plumage of the bird, with its changeful hues of
green and blue, is exactly adapted for the purpose: and in some cases
two of these tufts will be worn, one on the forehead and the other
on the back of the head. Eagles’ feathers are much used among the
Kaffirs, as, in spite of their comparatively plain coloring, their firm
and graceful shape enables the wearer to form them into very elegant
head dresses. Ostrich feathers are also used for the purpose, as are
the richly colored plumes of the lory; but the great ambition of a
Kaffir beau is to procure some feathers of the peacock, of which he is
amazingly vain.
On such occasions the Kaffir will wear much more dress than usual; and,
in addition to the quantity of beads which he contrives to dispose upon
his person, he ties so many tufts and tails round his waist that he may
almost be said to wear a kilt. He will carry his shield and bundle of
spears with him, but will not take the latter weapons into the host’s
house, either exchanging them for imitative spears of wood, or taking a
simple knobbed stick. Some sort of a weapon he must have in his hand,
or he would feel himself quite out of his element.
When the “boy” has at last obtained the chief’s permission to enter
the honored class of “men,” he prepares himself with much ceremony for
the change of costume which indicates his rank. The change does not
consist so much in addition as in subtraction, and is confined to the
head. All unmarried men wear the whole of their hair, and sometimes
indulge their vanity in dressing it in various modes; such as drawing
it out to its fullest extent, and stiffening it with grease and shining
powders, so that it looks something like the wigs which bishops used to
wear, but which have been judiciously abandoned. If particular pains
are taken with the hair, and it happens to be rather longer than usual,
the effect is very remarkable. I have a photographic portrait of a
young Zulu warrior, whose hair is so bushy and frizzled that it might
be taken for that of a Figian; and as in his endeavors to preserve
himself in a perfectly motionless attitude, he has clenched his teeth
tightly and opened his eyes very wide, he looks exactly as if all his
hair were standing on end with astonishment.
Proud, however, as he may be, as a “boy,” of his hair, he is still
prouder when he has the permission of his chief to cut it off, and at
once repairs to a friend who will act as hairdresser. The friend in
question takes his best assagai, puts a fine edge upon it, furnishes
himself with a supply of gum, sinews, charcoal powder, and oil, and
addresses himself to his task. His first care is to make an oval ring
of the sinews, about half an inch in thickness, and then to fit it on
the head. The hair is then firmly woven into it, and fixed with the
gum and charcoal, until the hair and ring seem as if they were one
substance. Oil or grease is next liberally applied, until the circlet
shines like a patent leather boot, and the ring is then complete.
The officiating friend next takes his assagai, and shaves the whole
of the head, outside and inside the ring, so as to leave it the sole
decoration of his bald head.
The ring, or “issikoko,” is useful for several purposes. It answers
admirably to hold feathers firmly, when the courtier decorates his head
for ceremony, or the soldier for war. It serves also more peaceful
uses, being the usual place where the snuff spoon is worn. This mode of
dressing the hair has its inconvenience, for the ring continually needs
to be repaired and kept in order. As to the “issikoko” itself, it is
too hard to be easily damaged; but as the hair grows it is raised above
the head, and, when neglected for some time, will rise to a height of
two inches or so. Moreover, the shaven parts of the head soon regain
their covering, and need again to be submitted to the primitive razor.
No man would venture to appear before his chief with the head unshaven,
or with the ring standing above it; for if he did so, his life would
probably answer for his want of respect.
The reverence with which a Kaffir regards the “issikoko” is equal to
that which an Oriental entertains for his beard. Mr. Moffatt mentions
a curious illustration of this fact. A warrior of rank, an “Induna,”
or petty chief, was brought before the king, the dreaded Moselekate,
charged with an offence the punishment of which was death. He was
conducted to the king, deprived of his spear and shield. “He bowed
his fine elastic figure, and kneeled before the judge. The case was
investigated silently, which gave solemnity to the scene. Not a whisper
was heard among the listening audience, and the voices of the council
were only audible to each other and to the nearest spectators. The
prisoner, though on his knees, had something dignified and noble in his
mien. Not a muscle of his countenance moved, but a bright black eye
indicated a feeling of intense interest, which the swerving balance
between life and death only could produce. The case required little
investigation; the charges were clearly substantiated, and the culprit
pleaded guilty. But, alas! he knew that it was at a bar where none
ever heard the heart reviving sound of pardon, even for offences small
compared with his. A pause ensued, during which the silence of death
pervaded the assembly.
“At length the monarch spoke, and, addressing the prisoner, said: ‘You
are a dead man; but I shall do to-day what I never did before. I spare
your life, for the sake of my friend and father,’ pointing to where I
stood. ‘I know that his heart weeps at the shedding of blood; for his
sake I spare your life. He has travelled from a far country to see me,
and he has made my heart white; but he tells me that to take away life
is an awful thing, and never can be undone again. He has pleaded with
me not to go to war, nor to destroy life. I wish him, when he returns
to his own home again, to return with a heart as white as he has made
mine. I spare you for his sake; for I love him and he has saved the
lives of my people. But,’ continued the king, ‘you must be degraded
for life; you must no more associate with the nobles of the land, nor
enter the towns of the princes of the people, nor ever again mingle
in the dance of the mighty. Go to the poor of the field, and let your
companions be the inhabitants of the desert.’
“The sentence passed, the pardoned man was expected to bow in grateful
adoration to him whom he was wont to look upon and exalt in songs
applicable only to One, to whom belongs universal sway and the
destinies of man. But no! Holding his hands clasped on his bosom, he
replied: ‘O king, afflict not my heart! I have incited thy displeasure:
let me be slain like the warrior. I cannot live with the poor.’ And,
raising his hand to the ring he wore on his brow, he continued: ‘How
can I live among the dogs of the king, and disgrace these badges of
honor which I won among the spears and shields of the mighty? No; I
cannot live! Let me die, O Pezoolu!’ His request was granted, and his
hands tied erect over his head. Now my exertions to save his life were
vain. He disdained the boon on the conditions offered, preferring to
die with the honors he had won at the point of the spear--honors which
even the act which condemned him did not tarnish--to exile and poverty
among the children of the desert. He was led forth, a man walking on
each side. My eye followed him until he reached the top of a high
precipice, over which he was precipitated into the deep part of the
river beneath, where the crocodiles, accustomed to such meals, were
yawning to devour him ere he could reach the bottom.”
The word “issikoko,” by which the Kaffir denominates the head-ring,
is scarcely to be pronounced, not by European lips, but by European
palates; for each letter _k_ is preceded, or rather accompanied, by a
curious clucking sound, produced by the back of the tongue and the roof
of the mouth. There are three of these “clicks,” as they are called,
and they will be more particularly described when we come to the
subject of Kaffir language.
Under nearly all circumstances a Kaffir presents a singularly
picturesque figure--except, perhaps, when squatting on the ground
with his knees up to his chin--and nothing can be more grateful to an
artistic eye than the aspect of a number of these splendid savages in
the full panoply of all their barbaric magnificence. Their proud and
noble port, their dusky bodies set off with beads and other brilliant
ornaments, and the uncommon grace and agility that they display when
going through the fierce mimicry of a fight which constitutes their
war dances, are a delight to the eye of an artist. Unfortunately, his
nose is affected in a different manner. The Kaffirs of all ages and
both sexes will persist in copiously anointing themselves with grease.
Almost any sort of grease would soon become rancid in that country;
but, as the Kaffirs are not at all particular about the sort of grease
which they use, provided that it _is_ grease, they exhale a very
powerful and very disagreeable odor. Kaffirs are charming savages, but
it is always as well to keep to the windward of them, at all events
until the nostrils have become accustomed to their odor. This peculiar
scent is as adhesive as it is powerful, and, even after a Kaffir has
laid aside his dress, any article of it will be nearly as strongly
scented as the owner. Some time ago, while I was looking over a very
fine collection of savage implements and dress, some articles of
apparel were exhibited labelled with tickets that could not possibly
have belonged to them. The owner said that he suspected them to be
African, and asked my opinion, which was unhesitatingly given, the odor
having betrayed their real country as soon as they were brought within
range of scent.
[Illustration: (1.) YOUNG KAFFIR IN FULL DRESS. (See page 41.)]
[Illustration: (2.) GIRL IN DANCING DRESS. (See page 53.)]
A few years ago, I assisted in opening a series of boxes and barrels
full of objects from Kaffirland. We took the precaution of opening the
cases in the garden, and, even in the open air, the task of emptying
them was almost too much for our unaccustomed senses. All the objects
were genuine specimens, not merely made for sale, as is so often the
case, but purchased from the wearers, and carefully put away. The owner
of the collection was rather humorous on the subject, congratulating
us on our preparation for a visit to Kaffirland, and telling us that,
if either of us wished to form a good idea of the atmosphere which
prevailed in a Kaffir hut with plenty of company, all we had to do
was to get into the empty cask, sit at the bottom of it, and put the
lid on. Several of the articles of clothing were transferred to my
collection, but for some time they could not be introduced into the
room. Even after repeated washings, and hanging out in the garden,
and drenching with deodorizing fluid, they retained so much of their
peculiar scent that they were subjected to another course, which
proved more successful,--namely, a thorough washing, then drying, then
exposure to a strong heat, and then drying in the open air.
This extremely powerful odor is a considerable drawback to an European
hunter when accompanied by Kaffir assistants. They are invaluable as
trackers; their eyes seem to possess telescopic powers; their ears
are open to sounds which their white companion is quite incapable of
perceiving, and their olfactory nerves are sensitive to any odor except
that which themselves so powerfully exhale. But the wild animals are
even more sensitive to odors than their dusky pursuers, and it is
popularly said that an elephant to leeward can smell a Kaffir at the
distance of a mile. All are alike in this respect, the king and his
meanest subject being imbrued with the same unctuous substance; and
the only difference is, that the king can afford more grease, and is
therefore likely to be more odoriferous, than his subject.
Yet the Kaffir is by no means an uncleanly person, and in many points
is so particularly clean that he looks down with contempt upon an
European as an ill-bred man. The very liberal anointing of the person
with grease is a custom which would be simply abominable in our
climate, and with our mode of dress, but which is almost a necessity
in a climate like that of Southern Africa, where the natives expose
nearly the whole of their bodies to the burning sunbeams. Even in the
more northern parts of Africa the custom prevails, and Englishmen who
have resided there for a series of years have found their health much
improved by following the example of the natives. In England, for
example, nothing could be more absurd than to complete the morning’s
toilet by putting on the head a large lump of butter, but in Abyssinia
no native of fashion thinks himself fully dressed until he has thus put
the finishing touch to his costume. Setting aside the different effects
of the sun upon a black skin and a white one, as long as European
residents in Southern Africa are able to wear their cool and light
garments, so long can they dispense with grease. But, if they were
suddenly deprived of their linen or cotton garments, and obliged to
clothe themselves after the fashion of the Kaffirs, it is likely that,
before many weeks had elapsed, they would be only too glad to resort
to a custom which has been taught to the natives by the experience of
centuries. Had not the practice of greasing the body been productive of
good, their strong common sense would long ago have induced the Kaffirs
to dispense with it.
In this, as in all other matters, we must not judge others by
supposing them to be under similar conditions with ourselves. Our
only hope of arriving at a true and unbiassed judgment is by mentally
placing ourselves in the same conditions as those of whom we are
treating, and forming our conclusions accordingly. The knowledge of
this simple principle is the key to the singular success enjoyed by
some schoolmasters, while others, who may far surpass them in mere
scholarship, have failed to earn for themselves either the respect or
the love of their pupils.
Men, as well as women, generally possess cloaks made of the skins of
animals, and called karosses. Almost any animal will serve for the
purpose of the kaross maker, who has a method of rendering perfectly
supple the most stiff and stubborn of hides. The process of preparing
the hide is very simple. The skin is fastened to the ground by a vast
number of pegs around its edges, so as to prevent it from shrinking
unequally, the hairy side being next to the ground. A leopard skin thus
pegged to the ground may be seen by reference to the illustration of a
Kaffir hut, on page 155. The artist, however, has committed a slight
error in the sketch, having drawn the skin as if the hairy side were
upward. The Kaffir always pegs a skin with the hairy side downward,
partly because the still wet hide would adhere to the ground, and
partly because he wishes to be able to manipulate the skin before it is
dry. This plan of pegging down the skin is spread over the whole world;
and, whether in Europe, Africa, Asia, America, or Australia, the first
process of hide dressing is almost exactly the same. The subsequent
processes vary greatly in different quarters of the globe, and even
in different parts of the same country, as we shall see in subsequent
pages.
The frontier Kaffirs, and indeed all those who can have communication
with Europeans, have learned the value of blankets, and will mostly
wear a good blanket in preference to the best kaross. But to the
older warriors, or in those places to which European traders do not
penetrate, the skin kaross still retains its value. The ox is the
animal that most generally supplies the kaross maker with skin, because
it is so large that the native need not take much trouble in sewing.
Still, even the smaller animals are in great request for the purpose,
and the karosses made from them are, to European eyes, far handsomer
than those made from single skins. Of course, the most valued by the
natives are those which are made from the skins of the predaceous
animals, a kaross made of lion-skin being scarcely ever seen except on
the person of sable royalty. The leopard skin is highly valued, and the
fortunate and valiant slayer of several leopards is sure to make their
skins into a kaross and their tails into an apron, both garments being
too precious to be worn except on occasions of ceremony.
As to the various adornments of feathers, strange head dresses, and
other decorations with which the Kaffir soldier loves to bedeck
himself, we shall find them described in the chapter relating to
Kaffir warfare. There is, however, one class of ornaments that must be
briefly mentioned; namely, the rings of different material which the
Kaffirs place on their wrists, arms, and ankles. These are sometimes
made of ivory, often of metal, sometimes of hide, sometimes of beads,
and sometimes of grass. This last mentioned bracelet is perhaps the
simplest of them all.
Men who have been fortunate enough to kill an elephant, and rich enough
to be able to use part of the tusks for their own purposes, generally
cut off a foot or so from the base of each tusk for the purpose of
making armlets, at once trophies of their valor and proofs of their
wealth. The reader is perhaps aware that the tusk of an elephant,
though hard and solid at the point, is soft at the base, and has only
a mere shell of hard ivory, the interior being filled with the soft
vascular substance by which the tusk is continually lengthened and
enlarged. Indeed, the true ivory is only found in that portion of the
tusk which projects from the head; the remainder, which is deeply
imbedded in the skull, being made of soft substance inclosed in a shell
of ivory.
It is easy enough, therefore, for the Kaffir hunter to cut off a
portion of the base of the tusk, and to remove the soft vascular
substance which fills it, leaving a tube of ivory, very thin and
irregular at the extreme base, and becoming thicker toward the point.
His next business is, to cut this tube into several pieces, so as to
make rings of ivory, some two or three inches in width, and differing
much in the thickness of material. Those which are made from the base
of the tusk, and which have therefore a large diameter and no great
thickness, are carefully polished, and placed on the arm above the
elbow, while those of smaller diameter and thicker substance are merely
slipped over the hand and worn as bracelets. There is now before me a
photographic portrait of a son of the celebrated chief Macomo, who is
wearing two of these ivory rings, one on the left arm and the other on
the wrist. A necklace, composed of leopard’s teeth and claws, aids in
attesting his skill as a hunter, and for the rest of his apparel the
less said the better.
A pair of these armlets is shown in the illustration on page 39. They
are sketched from specimens in the collection of Colonel Lane Fox.
The first of them is very simple. It consists merely of a piece, some
two inches in width, cut from the base of an elephant’s tusk, and
moderately polished. There is no attempt at ornament about it.
The second specimen is an example of much more elaborate construction.
It is cut from the more solid portion of the tusk, and weighs very much
more than its companion armlet. Instead of being of uniform thickness
throughout, it is shaped something like a quoit, or rather like a pair
of quoits, with their flat sides placed together. The hole through
which the arm passes is nicely rounded, and very smoothly polished,
the latter circumstance being probably due to the friction of the
wearer’s arm. It is ornamented by a double row of holes made around the
aperture. The ivory is polished by means of a wet cord held at both
ends, and drawn briskly backward and forward.
If the reader will refer to page 33, he will see that by the side of
the conical breast ornament which has already been described there
is a bracelet of beads. This is made of several strings of beads,
white predominating, and red taking the next place. The bead strings
are first laid side by side, and then twisted spirally into a loose
kind of rope, a plan which brings out their colors very effectively.
Metal is sometimes used for the same purpose, but not so frequently
as the materials which have been mentioned. Mr. Grout mentions a
curious specimen of one of these ornaments, which was made of brass.
“I have a rare antique of this kind before me, a royal armlet of early
days, of the Zulu country. It is said to have been made in the time
of Senzangakona, and to have descended from him to Tchaka, thence to
Dingan, thence to Umpande (Panda), who gave it to one of his chief
captains, who, obliged to leave Zululand by Kechwayo’s uprising,
brought it with him and sold it to me. It is made of brass, weighs
about two pounds, and bears a good many marks of the smith’s attempt at
the curious and the clever.”
Brass and iron wire is frequently used for the manufacture of armlets,
and tolerably heavy ornaments are sometimes found of the latter metal.
Some years ago, a curious circumstance occurred with regard to these
metallic armlets. A shining metallic powder was one day discovered, and
was found capable of being smelted like iron, and made into ornaments.
The chiefs were so pleased with this metal, which was more glittering
than iron, that they reserved it for themselves, and gave away their
iron ornaments to their followers. Some little time afterward, a
contagious disease spread through the country, and several chiefs died.
Of course the calamity was attributed to witchcraft, as is every death
or illness among the Kaffir chiefs, and the business of discovering the
offender was intrusted, as usual, to the witch doctors, a strange class
of men, who will be fully described in a future page. After making a
number of ineffectual guesses, they came to the conclusion that the
cause of the disease lay in the new-fangled metal, which had superseded
the good old iron of the past. In consequence of this verdict, the
unfortunate man who discovered the metal was put to death as an
accessory, the chiefs resumed their iron ornaments, and the king issued
an edict forbidding the use of the metal which had done so much harm.
CHAPTER VI.
FEMININE DRESS AND ORNAMENTS.
WHEN DRESS IS FIRST WORN -- PAINT AND OIL -- THE FIRST GARMENT,
AND ITS IMPORT -- APRONS OF KAFFIR GIRLS -- VARIOUS MATERIALS OF
WHICH THE APRONS ARE MADE -- BEADS AND LEATHER -- CHANGE OF DRESS
ON BETROTHAL -- DRESS OF A MARRIED WOMAN -- THE RED TOP-KNOT, AND
ESTIMATION IN WHICH IT IS HELD -- JEALOUSY AND ITS RESULTS -- AN
ELABORATE DRESS -- ORDINARY APRON OF A MARRIED WOMAN -- BEAD APRON
OF A CHIEF’S WIFE -- CURIOUS BRACELETS OF METAL -- THEIR APPARENT
INCONVENIENCE -- BRACELETS MADE OF ANTELOPE’S HOOF -- COSTUMES
USED IN DANCES -- QUANTITY OF BEADS USED IN THE DRESS -- A STRANGE
HEAD DRESS -- BELTS AND SEMI-BELTS OF KAFFIR WOMEN -- NECKLACES --
GOOD INTEREST AND BAD SECURITY -- IMITATION OF EUROPEAN FASHION --
SUBSTITUTE FOR HANDKERCHIEFS -- ANECDOTE OF A WEDDING DANCE -- KAFFIR
GALLANTRY -- A SINGULAR DECORATION -- KAFFIR CASTANETS -- EARRINGS OF
VARIOUS KINDS.
As in the last chapter the dress and ornaments of the Kaffir men
were described, the subject of this chapter will be the costume and
decoration of the women.
Both in material and general shape, there is considerable resemblance
between the garments of the two sexes, but those of the females have
a certain character about them which cannot be misunderstood. We will
begin with the dress, and then proceed to the ornaments.
As is the case with the boys, the Kaffir girls do not trouble
themselves about any clothes at all during the first few years of
their life, but run about without any garments except a coat of oil, a
patch of paint, and perhaps a necklace, if the parents be rich enough
to afford such a luxury. Even the paint is beyond the means of many
parents, but the oil is a necessity, and a child of either sex is
considered to be respectably dressed and to do credit to its parents
when its body shines with a polish like that of patent leather.
When a girl is approaching the age when she is expected to be
exchangeable for cows, she indues her first and only garment, which
she retains in its primitive shape and nearly its primitive dimensions
until she has found a suitor who can pay the price required by her
parents. This garment is an apron, and is made of various materials,
according to the means of the wearer.
The simplest and most common type of apron is a fringe of narrow
leathern strips, each strip being about the sixth of an inch wide,
and five or six inches in length. A great number of these strips are
fastened to a leathern thong, so that they form a kind of flexible
apron, some ten or twelve inches in width. Generally, eight or ten of
the strips at each side are double the length of the others. Examples
of these aprons may be seen by referring to the figures of the two
Kaffir girls on page 25, and, as their general make is sufficiently
indicated, nothing more need be said about them. I have, however,
several specimens of aprons which were worn by the daughters of wealthy
men, and others were lent to me by Mr. H. Jackson. From them I have
made a selection, which will illustrate well the modes of forming this
dress which were in fashion some few years ago.
[Illustration: KAFFIR ORNAMENTS. (See pages 53, 54, 55.)]
[Illustration: DRESS AND ORNAMENTS. (See pages 48, 51, 55.)]
The apron represented by fig. 4 in the illustration of “dress and
ornaments,” page 49, is that which is most generally used. It is made
of very delicate thongs twisted together in rope fashion, and having
the ends unravelled so as to make a thick fringe, and, as has already
been observed, the thongs at each end are twice as long as those which
occupy the centre. A broad belt of beads is placed along the upper edge
of the apron, and festoons of beads hang below the belt. The colors
are rather brilliant, being red, yellow, and white, and nearly all the
thongs have one large white bead just above the knob, which prevents
them from unravelling too much. The band by which it is suspended is
also covered with beads, and it is fastened by means of a loop at one
end, and a large brass button at the other. These aprons are fixed in
their position by two strings, one of which passes round the waist, and
the other below the hips.
Another apron is seen at the side of the illustration entitled “Dress
and ornaments,” on page 49, fig. 1. This is a very elaborate affair,
and is made on a totally different principle. It is wholly made of
beads, the threads which hold them together being scarcely visible.
In order to show the ingenious manner in which the beads are strung
together, a portion of the apron is given separately. The colors of
these beads are black and white, in alternate stripes, and the two ends
are a trifle larger than the middle of the dress. The belt by which
it is suspended is made from large round beads, arranged in rows of
white, blue, and red, and the two ends are fastened to the apron by the
inevitable brass button which has been so frequently mentioned.
In the same collection is a still smaller apron, intended for a younger
girl. This is made after the same principle, but the beads are arranged
in a bold zigzag pattern of black, scarlet, and white, relieved by the
glitter of highly polished brass buttons. This apron is illustrated in
fig. 4 of “Kaffir ornaments,” page 49, and a small portion of it is
given on an enlarged scale, so as to show the arrangement of the beads.
When the Kaffir girl is formally betrothed she alters her dress, and,
besides the small apron, indues a piece of soft hide, which reaches
to her knees, or a little below them, and this she wears until she
is married, when she assumes the singularly ungraceful attire of the
matron. Among the Zulu tribes, she shaves nearly the whole of her head
on the crown, leaving only a little tuft of hair. This is gathered
together with grease, red paint, and similar substances, and stands
erect from the crown of her head. The young wife is then quite in the
fashion. It is evidently the feminine substitute for the “issikoko”
worn by the men. So fond are the married women of this rather absurd
decoration, that it formed the subject of a curious trial that took
place some years ago. Noie, the youngest wife of a native named
Nongue, became suddenly disfigured; and among other misfortunes, lost
the little tuft of reddened hair. Poison was immediately suspected,
and one of the elder wives was suspected as the culprit. She was
accordingly brought up before the council, and a fair trial of five
hours’ duration was accorded to her. The investigation clearly proved
that she had in her possession certain poisons, and that she had
administered some deleterious substance to the young wife, of whom
she had become jealous. The force of evidence was so great that she
confessed her crime, and stated that she intended to make Noie’s
hair tuft fall off in order that the husband might be disgusted with
the appearance of his new wife, and return to his old allegiance to
herself. She was condemned to death, that being the punishment for all
poisoners, and was led away to instant execution--a fate for which she
seemed perfectly prepared, and which she met with remarkable unconcern,
bidding farewell to the spectators as she passed them.
The curious respect paid by the natives to this ornament is the more
remarkable, because its size is so very small. Even before shaving the
head, the short, crisp hair forms a very scanty covering; and when it
is all removed except this little tuft, the remainder would hardly
cover the head of a child’s sixpenny doll.
Among the illustrations given on p. 39, is shown a remarkably elaborate
apron belonging to a chief’s wife, drawn from a specimen in Mr.
Jackson’s collection. It is made of leather, dressed and softened in
the usual manner, but is furnished with a pocket and a needle. In order
to show this pocket, I have brought it round to the front of the apron,
though in actual wear it falls behind it. In the pocket were still a
few beads and a brass button. Thread is also kept in it. On the inside
of the apron is suspended one of the skewer-like needles which has been
already described, so that the wearer is furnished with all appliances
needful for a Kaffir seamstress.
But the chief glory of the apron is its ornament of beads, which has a
very bold effect against the dark mahogany hair of the apron itself.
This ornament is made in the form of a triangular flap, quite distinct
from the apron itself, and fastened to it only by the lower edge
and the pointed tip. The beads are arranged in a series of diamond
patterns, the outer edge of each diamond being made of white beads, and
the others of different colors, red predominating.
Figs. 2 and 3 in the “articles of costume,” p. 33, and next to the
men’s “tails,” already described, present two good examples of the
women’s aprons, both drawn from specimens in my collection. Fig. 3 is
the thong apron of the women. It is made of an infinity of leather
thongs, fastened together in a way rather different from that which
has been mentioned. Instead of having the upper ends fixed along the
belt so as to form a fringe, they are woven together into a tolerably
thick bunch, some four inches in width, and wider below than above. In
many cases these thongs are ornamented by little scraps of iron, brass,
tin, or other metal, wrapped round them; and in some instances beads
are threaded on the thongs. This apron would not belong to a woman of
any high rank, for it has no ornament of any kind (except a thorough
saturation with highly perfumed grease), and is made of materials
within the reach of every one. Any odd slips of hide thrown away in the
process of Kaffir tailoring can be cut into the narrow thongs used for
the purpose, and no very great skill is needed in its construction;
for, though strongly made, it is the work of a rather clumsy hand.
Such is not the case with the remarkable apron shown at fig. 2 of the
same illustration. This specimen is made in a rather unusual manner.
The basis of the apron is a piece of the same leather which is usually
employed for such purposes; but, instead of being soft and flexible, it
is quite hard and stiff, and cannot be bent without danger of cracking.
The beads are sewed firmly on the leather, and are arranged in parallel
lines, alternately white and lilac, a few black beads being pressed
into the service by the maker, apparently for want of those of a proper
color. Even the belt by which it is supported is covered profusely with
beads; so that, altogether, this is a remarkably good specimen of the
apron belonging to a Kaffir woman of rank.
The object represented at fig. 4 is a headdress, which will be
described when we come to Kaffir warfare.
A general idea of a Kaffir woman’s dress may be gained by reference to
the illustration “Dolls,” page 33, representing a Kaffir and his wife.
He is shown as wearing the apron and a short kaross; while she wears a
larger mantle, and the thong-apron which has just been described. She
is also carrying the sleeping mat; he, of course, not condescending to
carry anything. Her ankles are bound with the skin ropes which have
been already described; and a chain or two of beads completes her
costume.
Young wives have usually another ornament on which they pride
themselves. This is a piece of skin, generally that of an antelope,
about eighteen inches wide, and a yard or even more in length. This
is tied across the upper part of the chest, so as to allow the end to
fall as low as the knees, and is often very gaily decorated. Down the
centre of this skin a strip about six inches in width is deprived of
hair, and on this denuded portion the wearer fastens all the beads and
buttons that can be spared from other parts of her own costume. In one
costume of a young Zulu wife, the bottom of this strip is covered with
several rows of brass buttons, polished very highly, and glittering in
the sunbeams. This article of dress, however, is disappearing among the
frontier Kaffirs, who substitute European stuffs for the skin garments
which they formerly wore, and which are certainly more becoming to
them. The same may be said of many other articles of clothing, which,
as well as the manners and customs, have undergone so complete a
modification by intercourse with Europeans, that the Kaffir of the
present day is scarcely to be recognized as the same being as the
Kaffir of fifty years ago. As to the Hottentots, of whom we shall soon
treat, they are now a different people from the race described by Le
Vaillant and earlier travellers.
Married women are also fond of wearing bracelets, or rather gauntlets,
of polished metal; sometimes made of a single piece, sometimes of
successive rings, and sometimes of metal wound spirally from the wrist
upward. Some of these ornaments are so heavy and cumbrous, that they
must greatly interfere with the movements of the wrist; but in this
country, as in others, personal inconvenience is little regarded when
decorations are in the case.
In the illustration at the head of 39th p. are shown some bracelets of
a very peculiar fashion, drawn from specimens in my own collection.
They belonged to one of the wives of Goza, and were taken from her
wrists by the purchaser. They are made in a very ingenious manner from
the hoofs of the tiny African antelope, the Bluebok, and are formed in
the following manner:--The leg of the antelope having been cut off,
the skin was cut longitudinally on either side as far as the hoof,
which was then separated from the bone, leaving the sharp, horny hoofs
adhering to the skin. As the skin was cut so as to leave a flat thong
attached to each side of the hoof, it was easy enough to form the
bracelet into the shape which is seen in the illustration.
One remarkable point about these bracelets is their very small size,
which shows the diminutiveness of the Kaffir hand; although the owner
of these bracelets was a married woman, and therefore accustomed to
tasks which would not be very light even for an English laborer. Both
the bracelets are shown, and by the side of them is another made from
ordinary string, such as is used for tying parcels in England. What
could have induced a wife of so powerful a chief as Goza to wear so
paltry an ornament I cannot conceive, except that perhaps she may
have purchased it from one of the witch doctors, who has performed
some ceremony over it, and sold it as a charm. Kaffirs have the most
profound faith in charms, and will wear anything, no matter how
commonplace it may be, if they even fancy that it may possess magic
powers.
If the reader will refer to the “Kaffir ornaments” on page 33, fig.
1, he will see a circular one, made of beads. This is one of the most
cherished decorations of a Kaffir girl, and it is such as cannot be
afforded by any person who is not in affluent circumstances. It is made
in a very ingenious manner, so as to preserve its shape, although it
has to be worn round the waist, and consequently to be forced over the
shoulders. The centre of this handsome belt is made of leather, sewed
firmly together so as to form a cylindrical circle, and plentifully
imbrued with grease to render it elastic. Upon this structure the beads
are fastened, in regular spiral rows, so that the belt may be pulled
about and altered in shape without disturbing the arrangement of the
beads. The projector of this belt has contrived to arrange the beads in
such a manner as to present alternate zigzags of blue and yellow, the
effect of which on the dark chocolate skin would be very telling.
This belt may be seen round the waist of the young girl, whose likeness
is given on page 43. The damsel in question is supposed to be arrayed
for a dance, and, in such a case, she would put on every article of
finery that she possessed. Her woolly hair is ornamented by a quantity
of porcupine quills, the alternate black and white of which have a very
good effect. Porcupine quills are, however, not very easily obtained.
Hunting the porcupine is a task that belongs to the other sex, and is
quite out of the way of the women.
The animal is not a pleasant antagonist; and if his burrow be stopped,
and he be finally driven to bay, he gives his pursuer no small trouble,
having a nasty habit of erecting all his quills, and then suddenly
backing in the direction where he is least expected. A Kaffir’s naked
legs have no chance against the porcupine’s quills, and when several
porcupines are simultaneously attacked by a group of Kaffirs, the scene
is exceedingly ludicrous, the Kaffirs leaping about as if bewitched,
but, in reality, springing into the air to avoid the sudden rushes of
the porcupines. Unless, therefore, the parent or admirer of a young
woman should happen to present her with quills, she is forced to put up
with some other ornament. One rather common decoration is by fastening
into the hair a number of the long, straight thorns of the mimosa,
and so defending her head from imaginary assaults as effectually as
her more fortunate sister. The energy which these girls display in
the dance is extraordinary, and it need be so, when some of them will
wear nearly fifty pounds’ weight of beads, bracelets, anklets, belts,
and other ornaments. However, the knowledge of their magnificence is
sufficient to sustain them, and they will go through the most violent
exertions when displaying their activity in the dance.
As to the belt which has just been mentioned, I was anxious to know
whether it could be worn by our own countrywomen. So, after taking the
precaution of washing it very thoroughly with a hard brush, soap, and
soda, I tried it on a young lady, and was surprised to find that it
passed into its place without much trouble, though its progress was,
of course, impeded by dress, whereas the naked and well-oiled body of
the Kaffir girl allows the belt to slip over the arms and shoulders at
once.
There is another remarkable ornament of the young Kaffir women, which I
call the semi-belt. It is flat, generally made of strings and thongs,
and ornamented at intervals with beads arranged in cross-bands. At each
end is a loop, through which a string is passed, so that the wearer
can fasten it round her body. Now, the belt is only long enough to go
half round the body, and the mode of wearing it is rather remarkable.
Instead of placing the whole of the belt in front, as naturally might
be supposed, the wearer passes it round one side of the body, so that
one end is in front, and the other behind. Strange as is this mode
of wearing it, the custom is universal, and in every group of girls
or young women several are sure to be wearing a semi-belt round the
body. Another of these belts is shown in the illustration of “Kaffir
ornaments” on page 49, fig. 3. This is not so elaborate an article, and
has only a few bands of beads, instead of being nearly covered with
them.
As for the necklaces worn by the Kaffir women, they are generally
nothing more than strings of beads, and require no particular notice.
There is one, however, which is so different from the ordinary
necklaces, that I have had it engraved. It may be seen in the
illustration at page 49, fig. 3, next to the handsome bead apron
which has already been described. As may be seen by reference to the
illustration, it is formed entirely of beads, and is ornamented with
six triangular appendages, also made of beads. The general color of
the beads is white, but the interior of the triangular appendages is
cobalt blue; while the larger beads that are placed singly upon the
necklace are of ruby glass. When this remarkable necklace is placed
round the neck, the triangular flaps fall regularly on the breast and
shoulders, and, when contrasted with the dark skin of the wearer, have
an admirable effect.
Lately, two articles of dress, or rather of ornament, have been
imported from Europe into Africa, and have met with great success
among the chocolate-colored belles of Kaffirland. Enterprising
traders in Southern Africa do not set up permanent shops as we do in
England, but stock a wagon with all sorts of miscellaneous goods,
and undertake journeys into the interior, where they barter their
stock for elephants’ tusks and teeth, horns, skins, ostrich feathers,
and similar commodities. They have a most miscellaneous assortment
of goods, and act very much in the same manner as those wandering
traders among ourselves who are popularly called “cheap Johns,” the
chief distinction being that their stock is by no means cheap, but is
sold at about 1,000 per cent. profit on the original outlay. This
seems rather an excessive percentage; but it must be remembered that
the old adage of high interest and bad security holds good in this
as in other speculations. War may break out, the trader be speared,
his wagon robbed, and his oxen confiscated. The dreaded murrain may
carry off his cattle, or they may be starved for want of food, slowly
killed by thirst, or drowned by a sudden rush of water, which may
almost instantaneously convert a dry gully into a raging torrent that
sweeps everything before it. Fashions may change, and his whole stock
be valueless; or some “prophet” may take it into his head to proclaim
that the sound of his wagon wheels prevents the rain from falling.
Moreover, he is unmercifully fleeced by the different chiefs through
whose territories he passes, and who exact an extortionate toll before
they will allow him to pass to the next chief, who will serve him in
much the same manner. Altogether, if the journey be a successful one,
the trader will make about fifty or sixty per cent. clear profit;
but, as the journey is often an utter failure, this is really no very
exorbitant rate of interest on his outlay.
The trader will, above all things, take plenty of tobacco--this
being the key to the heart of a Kaffir, old or young, man or woman.
He will take guns and ammunition for the men; also spirits of the
roughest and coarsest kind, a better and purer article being quite
wasted on his sable customers. Beads, of course, he carries, as well
as buttons, blankets, and other luxuries; also he will have the great
iron hoe blades with which the women till the ground, that he can sell
for one-sixth of the price and which are twice the quality of the
native-made hoe. One of these bold wagon-owners bethought himself of
buying a few gross of brass curtain rings of the largest size, and was
gratified by finding that they were eagerly bought up wherever he went.
The natives saw at once that the brass rings were better bracelets than
could be made by themselves, and they accordingly lavished their savage
treasures in order to buy them.
One of the oddest examples of the vicissitude of African trade occurred
some few years ago. An English vessel arrived at the port, a large part
of her cargo consisting of stout iron wire, nearly the whole of which
was bought by the natives, and straightway vanished, no one knowing
what had become of it. The mystery was soon solved. Suddenly the Kaffir
belles appeared in new and fashionable costume. Some of them had been
to the towns inhabited by Europeans, and had seen certain “cages” hung
outside the drapers’ shops. They inquired the use of these singular
objects, and were told that they were the fashionable attire of
European ladies. They straightway burned to possess similar costumes,
and when the vessel arrived with its cargo of wire they bought it up,
and took it home for the purpose of imitating the white ladies. Of
course they had not the least idea that any other article of apparel
was necessary, and so they wore none, but walked about the streets
quite proud of their fashionable appearance.
As the dancers are encumbered with such an amount of decoration, and as
they exert themselves most violently, a very natural result follows.
The climate is very hot, and the exercise makes the dancer hotter,
so that the abundant grease trickles over the face and body, and
inconveniences the performer, who is certainly not fastidious in her
notions. As to handkerchiefs, or anything approaching to the idea of
such articles, she is in perfect ignorance, her whole outfit consisting
of the little apron above mentioned, and an unlimited supply of beads.
But she is not unprovided for emergencies, and carries with her an
instrument very like the “strigil” of the ancients, and used for much
the same purpose. Sometimes it is made of bone, sometimes of wood,
sometimes of ivory, and sometimes of metal. It varies much in shape,
but is generally hollowed slightly, like a carpenter’s gouge, and has
its edges made about as sharp as those of an ordinary paper knife. In
fact, it very much resembles a magnified marrow spoon.
A specimen of the commoner sort is given at fig. 6, in “Kaffir
ornaments,” on page 49. The material of this strigil is iron, and it is
attached to a plain leather strap.
Sometimes a rather unexpected article is substituted for the strigil,
as may be seen from the following anecdote related by Mr. G. H. Mason.
He went to see the wedding of a Kaffir chief, who was about to marry
his fourteenth wife, and found the bridegroom seated in the midst of
the village, encircled by a row of armed warriors, and beyond them by a
row of women with children.
“Scarcely had we taken our station near the Umdodie (husband), when
a low shrill chant came floating on the breeze from the bottom of a
lovely vale hard by, where I descried a long train of damsels slowly
wending their way among bright green patches of Indian corn and masses
of flowering shrubs, studded with giant cactus, and the huge flowering
aloe. As the procession neared the huts, they quickened their pace and
raised their voices to the highest pitch, until they arrived at the
said cattle-kraal, where they stood motionless and silent.
“A messenger from the Umdodie then bade them enter the kraal, an order
that they instantly obeyed, by twos, the youngest leading the way,
closely followed by the rest, and terminated by a host of marriageable
young ladies (Intombies), clustering thick around the bride--a fat,
good-natured girl, wrapped round and round with black glazed calico,
and decked from head to foot with flowers, beads, and feathers. Once
within the kraal, the ladies formed two lines, with the bride in the
centre, and struck up a lively air; whereupon the whole body of armed
Kaffirs rushed from all parts of the kraal, beating their shields, and
uttering demon yells as they charged headlong at the smiling girls,
who joined with the stalwart warriors in cutting capers and singing
lustily, until the whole kraal was one confused mass of demons,
roaring out hoarse war-songs and shrill love-ditties. After an hour,
dancing ceased, and joila (Kaffir beer) was served round, while the
lovely bride stood in the midst of the ring alone, stared at by all,
and staring in turn at all, until she brought her eyes to bear on
her admiring lord. Then, advancing leisurely, she danced before him,
amid shouts of the bystanders, singing at the top of her voice, and
brandishing a huge _carving-knife_, with which she scraped big drops of
perspiration from her heated head, produced by the unusually violent
exercise she was performing.”
It appears, from the same observant writer, that whatever the amount
of finery may be which a Kaffir girl wears, it is considered only
consistent with ordinary gallantry that it should be admired. While he
was building a house, assisted by a number of Kaffirs, he found that
his men never allowed the dusky maidens to pass within sight without
saluting them, or standing quite motionless, full in their path, so
that each might mutually inspect the other.
“Thus it frequently happened that troops of girls came in from the
Kaffir kraals with maize, thatch, milk, eggs, wild fruit, sugar-cane,
potatoes, &c., &c., for sale; and no sooner did their shrill song reach
the ears of our servants, than they rushed from their work, just as
they were, some besmeared with mud, others spattered with whitewash,
and the rest armed with spades, pickaxes, buckets, brick-moulds, or
whatever else chanced to be in their hands at the moment.”
There is a curious kind of ornament much in vogue among the Kaffir
women, namely, a series of raised scars upon the wrists, and extending
partially up the arms. These scars are made in childhood, and the
wounds are filled with some substance that causes them to be raised
above the level of the skin. They fancy that these scars are useful as
well as ornamental, and consider them in the light of amulets. Other
portions of the limbs are sometimes decorated with these scars; and
in one or two cases, not only the limbs, but the whole body, has been
nearly covered with them. The material with which the wounds are
filled is supposed to be the ashes of a snake.
During their dances, the Kaffirs of both sexes like to make as
much noise as possible, and aid their voices by certain mechanical
contrivances. One of the most simple is made of a number of dry seeds.
In shape these seeds are angular, and much resemble the common Brazil
nut in form. The shell of the seed is very thin and hard, and the
kernel shrinks within it so as to rattle about with every movement. In
some cases the kernel is removed, and the rattling sound is produced
entirely by the hard shells striking against each other. When a number
of these seeds are strung together, and upon the legs or arms, they
make quite a loud rattling sound, in accordance with the movements of
the dancers, and are, in fact, the Kaffir substitutes for castanets.
In some parts of Central Africa, a curious imitation of these natural
castanets is made. It consists of a thin shell of iron, exactly
resembling in form that of the nut, and having a little iron ball
within, which takes the place of the shrivelled kernel.
Earrings are worn in Kaffirland as well as in other parts of the world,
and are equally fashionable in both sexes. The ears are pierced at a
very early age, and the aperture enlarged by having a graduated series
of bits of wood thrust through them, until they are large enough to
hold a snuff box, an ivory knob, or similar ornament.
One of these earring snuff boxes may be seen in the illustration
“Dress” p. 49, fig. 6. It is made of a piece of reed, three inches in
length, closed at one end; and having a stopper thrust into the other.
The original color of the reed is bright yellow, with a high natural
polish, but the Kaffir is not satisfied with having it in its natural
state, and ornaments it with various patterns in black. These are
produced by charring the wood with a hot iron, and the neatness and
truth of the work is very astonishing, when the rudeness of the tools
is taken into consideration. In the present specimen, the pattern is
alternate diamonds of black and yellow. This mode of decorating their
ornaments and utensils is very common among the Kaffirs, and we shall
see more of it as we proceed. Snuff boxes are not, however, the only
ornaments which a Kaffir will wear in the ears, for there is scarcely
anything which is tolerably showy and which can be fastened to the ear
that will not be worn there.
CHAPTER VII.
ARCHITECTURE.
CHIEF CHARACTERISTICS OF KAFFIR ARCHITECTURE -- PREVALENCE OF THE
CIRCULAR FORM -- INABILITY OF THE KAFFIR TO DRAW A STRAIGHT LINE --
GENERAL FORM OF THE KAFFIR’S HUT -- THE INCREDULITY OF IGNORANCE
-- METHOD OF HOUSE-BUILDING -- PRECAUTION AGAINST INUNDATION --
FEMALE ARCHITECTS -- MODE OF PLANNING A HUT -- KAFFIR OSTENTATION --
FRAGILITY OF THE HUT -- ANECDOTE OF WARFARE -- THE ENRAGED ELEPHANT,
AND A DOMESTIC TRAGEDY -- HOW THE ROOF IS SUPPORTED -- SMOKE AND SOOT
-- THE HURDLE DOOR -- HOW IT IS MADE -- SCREENS FOR KEEPING OFF THE
WIND -- DECORATIONS OF DINGAN’s HOUSE -- AVERAGE FURNITURE OF THE
KAFFIR HUT -- THE KRAAL, ITS PLAN AND PRINCIPLES OF CONSTRUCTION --
KNOWLEDGE OF FORTIFICATION -- CHIEF OBJECT OF THE KRAAL -- TWO MODES
OF MAKING THE FENCE -- THE ABATTIS AND THE CHEVAUX DE FRISE -- SIZE
OF THE KRAAL -- THE KING’S MILITARY KRAAL OR GARRISON TOWN -- VISIT
TO ONE OF PANDA’S KRAALS -- THE HAREM, ITS INMATES AND ITS GUARDIANS.
The architecture of these tribes is very simple, and, although slightly
variable in different localities, is marked throughout by similar
characteristics. On looking at any specimen of Kaffir architecture,
the spectator is at once struck with one peculiarity, namely, that all
his buildings are circular. It is a remarkable fact that the Kaffir
does not seem to be capable of marking out a straight line, and whether
he builds a hut, or erects a fence, he takes the circle as his guide.
A Kaffir’s attempts to erect a square enclosure, or even to build a
fence in a straight line, are ludicrous failures. With Europeans the
case is different. A settler who desires to build a fence wherein to
enclose his garden, or a stockade within which his house and property
can remain in safety, invariably builds on the rectilinear principle,
and makes the fence in the form of a square. He would feel himself
quite fettered if he were forced to build a circular enclosure, whereas
the Kaffir would be as much at a loss if he were obliged to build a
square edifice. Indeed, though the European could, at the cost of some
trouble, build a circular house, and would make his circle true, the
Kaffir would utterly fail in attempting to make a building of a square
or an oblong form.
One of my friends, who has travelled much among the Kaffir tribes,
and gone among villages whose inhabitants had never seen an European
building, told me that it was hardly possible to make the natives
comprehend the structure of an European house. The very shape of it
puzzled them, and the gable ends and the ridged roof seemed so strange
to them as to be scarcely credible. As to the various stories in a
house, several rooms on a story, and staircases which lead from one
to the other, they flatly declined to believe that anything of the
kind could exist, and thought that their guest was trying to amuse
himself at the expense of their credulity. They did believe in the
possibility of St. Paul’s cathedral, on account of its domed roof,
but they could not be induced to believe in its size. They defended
their position by argument, not merely contenting themselves with
assertions. Their chief argument was derived from the impossibility of
such a building sustaining its own weight. The only building materials
of which they had any experience were the posts and sticks of which
their own houses were made, and the reeds wherewith they were thatched.
Sometimes a very luxurious house-owner would plaster the interior with
mud, producing that peculiar style of architecture which is popularly
called “wattle-and-daub.” They could not comprehend in the least that
stone could be used in building dwelling-houses; and the whole system
of cutting stone into rectangular pieces, and the use of bricks, was
equally beyond their comprehension. Mortar also was an inexplicable
mystery, so that on the whole they decided on discrediting the tales
told them by the white man.
[Illustration: KAFFIRS AT HOME. (See page 70.)]
A Kaffir house (see page 155) looks just like an exaggerated beehive.
It is of precisely the same shape, is made of nearly the same
materials, and has a little arched door, just like the entrance of a
beehive, through which a man can barely creep on his hands and knees.
The structure of these huts is very simple. A circle is drawn of some
fourteen feet in diameter, and around it are stuck a number of long,
flexible sticks. These sticks are then bent over at the top and tied
together, so as to form a framework very like a common wire mousetrap.
A reed thatching is then laid over the sticks, and secured in its place
by parallel lashings. These lashings are made of “monkey-ropes,” or
the creepers that extend their interminable length from tree to tree,
and are found of every size, from a cable to a packthread. They twist
themselves into so rope-like a shape, that many persons have refused to
believe that they have not been artificially made. The rows of lashing
are about eighteen inches apart. In shape, the hut is exactly like the
well-known snow house of the Esquimaux.
As, during the wet season, the rain pours down in torrents, the huts
would be swamped for several months but for the precaution which the
natives take of digging round each hut a trench of some eighteen inches
or two feet in depth, and the same in breadth. This trench is about
six inches from the wall of the hut, and serves to keep the floor
dry. The reader may remember that all European soldiers are taught to
dig a trench round each hut while they are under canvas, the neglect
of this precaution being sure to cause both great inconvenience and
unhealthiness.
The woman generally marks the outline of her hut in a very simple
manner. She takes a number of flexible sticks, and ties them together
firmly with leathern thongs, or the rough and ready string which the
Kaffirs make from rushes by tearing them into strips and rolling them
on the leg with the palm of the hand. Three or even four sticks are
usually joined together, in order to attain sufficient length. She
then pushes one end deeply into the ground, bends the other end over
so as to make an arch, and pushes that into the ground also. This arch
becomes the key to the whole building, settling its height and width.
Another arch is set in the ground at right angles to the former, and
the two are lashed together at the top where they cross, so that a
rough kind of skeleton of the hut is made in a very short time.
On the roof of the hut may sometimes be seen the skulls of oxen.
This ornament is highly characteristic of the Kaffir. The high value
which he sets on his cows is not surpassed by the love of the most
confirmed miser for his gold. But there is another trait of the Kaffir
mind, which is even stronger than avarice, and that is ostentation,
to which his cattle become of secondary consideration. Unwilling
as he is to kill any of the cattle which constitute his wealth, and
which he values scarcely less than his own life, he will, on certain
occasions, slaughter one, and give a feast to his neighbors, who are
sure to praise him in terms suitable to the magnificence--_i. e._ the
quantity--of the banquet. He is nearly certain to be addressed as
Father, and perhaps some of the more enthusiastic, when excited by
beef, beer, and snuff, may actually hail him as Chief. The slaughter of
an ox is therefore a great event in the life of a Kaffir, and is sure
to act as a step toward higher rank. Lest the memory of such an event
should fade away as soon as the banquet has been ended, the proud donor
takes the skull of the slaughtered ox and places it on the roof of his
hut, where it remains as a sign that the owner of the dwelling is a man
of property, and has been able to spare one of his oxen to serve as a
feast for his friends.
The building being now finished, the opening which serves as a door is
cut on one side, its edges guarded with plaited twigs, and the Kaffir
desires no better house. Though it has no window, no chimney, and no
door that deserves the name, he would not exchange it for a palace,
and many instances have been known where Kaffirs who have been taken
to European cities, have travelled much, and been tolerably educated,
have flung off their civilized garments, re-assumed the skin-dress of
their nation, and gone off to live in huts instead of houses. The whole
structure is necessarily very fragile, and the walls cannot endure much
violence. A curious example of their fragility occurred some time ago,
when one chief made a raid upon the village of another. A number of men
had taken refuge in a hut, from which it was not easy to drive them.
Assagais were hurled through the sides of the hut, and did much damage
to the inmates. The survivors tried to save themselves by climbing
up the framework of the hut and clinging to the roof, but the slight
structure could not support their bodies, and by yielding to their
weight betrayed them to the watchful enemies without.
The upper illustration on page 63 represents the interior of an
exceptionally large hut, being, in fact, the principal residence of a
chief. Very few huts have more than four supporting posts. On the left
may be seen two of the large store baskets, in which milk is kept and
made into “amasi,” while just beyond the first basket is a sleeping
mat rolled up and resting against the wall. Some large earthenware
pots, such as are used in cookery, are seen at the farther end of the
hut, and a calabash rests against one of the posts. To the roof are
hung bunches of maize, according to the curious Kaffir custom, which
seems to ignore the fact that every thing on the roof of a hut is soon
blackened with soot, owing to the smoke from the fire. Whether large
or small, all the houses are made on exactly the same principle, and
except for their superior size, and the ox skulls which decorate them,
the houses occupied by chiefs have nothing to distinguish them from
those which are inhabited by their dependants.
Against brute foes the hut is sometimes but a frail protection. On one
occasion an elephant was attracted by a quantity of millet, which was
stored within a fence. He pushed his way through the useless barrier,
and began feeding on the millet. There was a fire in one of the huts,
and the elephant, instead of being scared by it, became angry, knocked
the house to pieces, and walked over the ruins, trampling to death a
woman who was lying asleep. Her husband nearly shared the same fate,
but managed to roll out of the way, and then to escape by creeping
between the legs of the angry elephant.
The roof of the hut is not wholly dependent for support on the flexible
sticks which form its walls, but is held up by a post or two, on the
top of which is laid a cross-beam. This arrangement also permits the
owner of the hut to hang to the beam and posts sundry articles which
he does not wish to be injured by being thrown on the ground, such as
gourds, baskets, assagai-shafts, spoons, and other implements.
Ranged carelessly round the hut are the rude earthenware pots, in
which the Kaffir keeps his beer, his milk, and present stores of
grain. The floor of the hut is always kept scrupulously clean, and is
generally as hard as stone, being made of well-kneaded clay laid very
smoothly, and beaten until it is quite hard. The best clay for this
purpose is obtained from the nests of the white ant, which are beaten
to pieces, then pounded, and then mixed very carefully with water. In
a well-regulated hut, the women are very careful of their floor, and
rub it daily with flat stones, until it is not only smooth, but even
polished.
Just within the entrance is the primitive fireplace. This, like almost
everything which the Kaffir makes, is circular in form, and is made
usually of mud; its only object is to confine the embers within a
limited space.
Cooking is not always carried on in the ordinary house, nor is the fire
kept constantly. In a permanent kraal there are cooking huts erected
for that one special purpose, and not used for any other. They may be
called demi-huts, as their only object is to guard the fire from the
effect of wind. They are circular, like all ordinary huts, but their
walls are only four feet or so in height, and are carefully daubed
with a mixture of clay and cowdung, so as to form a most efficient
protection against the wind. The smoke from the fire is allowed to
escape as it can. Some of it contrives to force its way between
the interstices of the thatch, as may be seen by reference to the
illustration on page 63. Some of it circles around the walls and pours
through the door-way, but the greater part of it settles, in the form
of soot, upon the interior of the hut, blackening everything within it.
When the Kaffirs wish to season the wood of their assagai-shafts or
knobkerries, they stick it into the roof of the house, just above the
fireplace, exactly as bacon is cured in the smoke.
A curious reference to this custom is made in a song composed in honor
of Panda, King of the Zulu tribes. When Dingan murdered his predecessor
Tchaka, he killed other chiefs at the same time, but was persuaded to
leave Panda alive--
“Of the stock of Ndabitza, ramrod of brass,
Survivor alone of all other rods;
Others they broke, _but left this in the soot_,
Thinking to burn it some rainy cold day.”
Reference is here made to the custom of leaving sticks and shafts in
the sooty roof.
At night, the entrance of the hut is closed by a simple door made of
wicker work, and looking much like the closely-woven sheep hurdles
which are used in some parts of England. With the exception that the
Kaffir always sits down at his work, the mode of making these doors is
almost identical with that which is employed by the shepherds in this
country.
The Kaffir begins by choosing some straight and tolerably stout sticks,
and driving them into the ground at regular distances from each other.
These are intended as the supports or framework of the door. He then
takes a quantity of pliant sticks, like the osiers of our basket
makers, and weaves them in and out of the upright stakes, beating them
down continually to make them lie closely together. When the door is
completed, the upright sticks are cut off to the proper length, and it
can then be fitted to the hut. If the reader has any acquaintance with
military affairs, he may remember that gabions are made in precisely
the same manner, except that the upright stakes are placed in a circle,
and not in a straight line. In order to keep the wind from blowing too
freely into their huts, the Kaffirs make screens, which are placed so
as to shelter the entrance. These screens are made of sticks and rushes
such as the door is made of, only of lighter materials, and their
position can be shifted with every change of wind.
Some of the permanent houses are built with a great amount of care,
and occupy at least a month in their construction. In most of them the
interior view is much the same, namely, the domed roof, supported by
four posts placed in the form of a square, with the fireplace exactly
in the centre. The natives will often expend much time and trouble in
decorating their permanent mansions, and Mr. Christie tells me that he
has seen the very posts thickly encrusted with beads. Of course they
soon become blackened by the smoke, but a quick rub of the palm of
the hand brings out the colors anew. One of Dingan’s huts, which was
visited by Retief, the Dutch colonist, was most beautifully built, and
supported by twenty-two pillars, each of which was entirely covered
with beads.
The huts are, from the nature of the material of which they are made,
exceedingly inflammable, and it sometimes happens that if one of the
houses of a village take fire, the whole of them are consumed in
a very short time. Fortunately, they are so easily built that the
inconvenience is not nearly so great as is the case when European
houses are burned. Moreover, the furniture which they contain is so
limited in quantity and so simple in material, that it can be replaced
without much difficulty. A mat or two, a few baskets, a pillow, a
milking pail, one or two rude earthenware pots, and a bundle of
assagais, constitute an amount of property which is not to be found in
every hut.
The huts of the Kaffirs are generally gathered together into little
groups, which are popularly called “kraals.” This is not a Zulu or a
Hottentot word, and is probably a corruption of the word “corral.”
There are two modes of forming a kraal, and the particular mode is
determined by the locality. The Kaffir tribes generally like to place
their kraal on the side of a hill in the vicinity of the bush, in order
that they may obtain plenty of building material. They are, however,
sufficiently acquainted with the principles of fortification to clear
a large space around their dwellings, so that, in case they should be
attacked, the enemy cannot conceal his movements from the defenders.
The first care of a Kaffir is to protect his beloved cows, and for
that purpose a circular space is enclosed with a high fence, made very
strongly. The fence is about six or seven feet in height, and is made
in a simple and very effective manner. The fence which surrounds the
cattle and the huts is mostly made in one of two modes--at all events,
in the more southern part of the country, where timber is exceedingly
plentiful. The tribes on the north of Kaffirland, who live where timber
is comparatively scarce, build their walls of large stones piled on one
another, without any mortar, or even mud, to fill up the interstices.
The southern tribes use nothing but wood, and form the walls by two
different methods. That which is commonly employed is very simple.
A number of trees are felled, and their trunks severed a few feet
below the spot whence the branches spring. A great number of these
tree tops are then arranged in a circle, the severed ends of the stems
being inward, and the branches pointing outward. In fact, the fence is
exactly that species of rapid and effective fortification called, in
military language, an “abattis.” If the branches of a tree are very
large, they can be laid singly on the ground, just as if they were the
entire heads of trees.
In some cases, where the kraal is more carefully built, the fence is
formed of stout poles, which are driven into the ground, in a double
row, some three feet apart, and are then lashed together in such a way
that their tops cross each other. In consequence of this arrangement,
the fence stands very firmly on its broad basis, while the crossing and
projecting tops of the poles form a _chevaux de frise_ as effectual as
any that is made by the European soldier. If the enemy try to climb the
fence, they can be wounded by spears thrust at them from the interior;
and if they succeed in reaching the top, the sharp tips of the poles
are ready to embarrass them.
The entrance to this enclosure is just wide enough to allow a cow to
pass; and in some places, where the neighborhood is insecure, it is
so narrow that there hardly seems to be space enough for the cattle
to pass in and out. Each night it is carefully closed with poles and
sticks, which are kept just within the entrance, so as to be ready
to hand when wanted. Opposite to the entrance, and at the further
extremity, a small enclosure, also with circular walls, is built. In
this pen the larger calves are kept, the younger being inmates of
the huts, together with the human inhabitants. By the side of this
enclosure a little gap is left in the fence, just large enough for a
man to squeeze himself through, and not large enough to allow even a
calf to pass. This little aperture is the chief’s private door, and
intended for the purpose of saving time, as otherwise, if the chief
were inspecting his cattle, and wished to go to his own hut, he would
be obliged to walk all round the fence. The Zulu name for the space
within this fence is “isi-baya.”
Around the isi-baya are set the huts which constitute the kraal. Their
number is exceedingly variable, but the general average is from ten
to fourteen. Those which are placed at either side of the entrance to
the isi-baya are devoted to the servants, while that which is exactly
opposite to it is the habitation of the chief man. There are mostly a
great many kraals belonging to one tribe, and it often happens that
several neighboring kraals are all tenanted by the members of one
family and their dependants. For example, when the son of a chief
attains sufficient consequence to possess several wives and a herd
of cattle, he finds that the paternal kraal is not large enough to
afford to each wife the separate hut to which she is entitled; so he
migrates with his family to a short distance, and there builds a kraal
for himself, sometimes so close to that of his father that he connects
them by means of a short fenced passage. The chief hut may easily be
known, not only by its position, but by its larger dimensions. Some of
the other huts are occupied by married men, some by his wives, some by
his servants; while at least one hut is reserved for the use of the
unmarried men, or “boys,” as they are called.
This is all that is needed to complete a kraal, _i. e._ the circular
isi-baya, and the huts round it. But, in situations where plenty of
wood can be found, the Kaffir architect erects a second fence, which
encloses all the huts, as well as the isi-baya, and has its entrance
in exactly the same position, _i. e._ opposite to the chief’s hut. The
distant view of one of these doubly-fenced kraals, when it happens to
be situated on the slope of a hill, is extremely curious, and would
scarcely give a stranger an idea of a village.
It will be seen in an engraving opposite, that the central portion of
the kraal is given to the isi-baya, and that the Kaffirs devote all
their energies toward preserving their cows, while they seem to look
with comparative indifference on the risk of exposing themselves or
their fragile huts to the inroads of the enemy. As has already been
stated, the size of the kraal varies with the wealth and rank of its
chief man, and, owing to its mode of construction, can be gradually
enlarged as he rises to higher dignities and the possession of more
cattle. In shape, however, and the principle of construction, kraals
are alike, that of the king himself and the newly-made kraal of a
younger son being exactly the same in these respects.
The king’s kraals, however, are of enormous dimensions, and are several
in number. Panda, for example, has one kraal, the central enclosure
of which is nearly a mile in diameter. This enclosure is supposed to
be filled with the monarch’s cows, and is consequently called by the
name of isi-baya. Practically, however, the cattle are kept in smaller
enclosures, arranged along the sides of the isi-baya, where they can be
watched by those who have the charge of them, and whose huts are placed
conveniently for that purpose. The vast central enclosure is used
almost exclusively as a parade ground, where the king can review his
troops, and where they are taught to go through the simple manœuvres
of Kaffir warfare. Here, also, he may be seen in council, the isi-baya
being able, to accommodate an unlimited number of suitors.
Around the isi-baya are arranged the huts of the warriors and their
families, and are placed in four or even five-fold ranks; so that the
kraal almost rises to the dignity of a town, having several thousand
inhabitants, and presenting a singularly imposing appearance when
viewed at a distance. At the upper portion of the kraal, and at the
further end from the principal entrance, are the huts specially erected
for the king, surrounded by the other huts containing his harem. The
whole of this part of the kraal is separated from the remainder by
lofty and strong fences, and its doors are kept by sentinels especially
set aside for this purpose. In some cases, the warriors to whom this
important duty is confided are not permitted to wear clothes of any
kind, and are compelled to pass the whole of the time, day and night,
when on guard, without even a kaross to cover them. This rule lies
rather heavily upon them in the winter nights, when the cold is often
severe, and the wind sweeps chillily around the fence of the isi-baya.
However, the young ladies will sometimes contrive to evade the
vigilance of the sentries, when their attention is otherwise engaged,
as is amusingly shown in a few remarks by Mr. Angas. He had gone by
Panda’s invitation to see him at one of his great kraals:--“Last night
we slept at the new military kraal, or garrison town, of Indabakaumbi,
whither the king had sent word by message that he would be waiting to
receive us. The Inkosikasi, or queen, of the kraal sent us a small
quantity of thick milk and a jar of millet, and soon afterward made her
appearance, holding two of the king’s children by the hand, for whom
she requested a present of beads. The children were remarkably pretty,
nicely oiled, and tastefully decorated with girdles of blue and scarlet
beads. The old lady, on the contrary, was so alarmingly stout, that it
seemed almost impossible for her to walk; and that it required some
considerable time for her to regain the harem at the upper end of the
kraal was made manifest by some fifty of the king’s girls effecting
their escape from the rear of the seraglio, and sallying down the slope
to stare at us as we rode away from the kraal. The agility of the young
ladies, as they sprang from rock to rock, convinced us that they would
be all quietly sitting in the harem, as though nothing had happened,
long before the Inkosikasi gained her dwelling.”
At that time Panda had thirteen of these great military kraals,
each serving as the military capital of a district, and he had just
completed a fourteenth. He takes up his residence in these kraals
successively, and finds in each everything that he can possibly
want--each being, indeed, almost identical in every respect with all
the others. As a general rule, each of these military kraals forms the
residence of a single regiment; while the king has many others, which
are devoted to more peaceful objects.
[Illustration: (1.) INTERIOR OF KAFFIR HUT. (See page 59.)]
[Illustration: (2.) KAFFIR KRAAL. (See page 62.)]
It has already been mentioned that the women live in a portion
separated from the rest of the kraal, and it may almost be said that
they reside in a small supplementary kraal, which communicates by gates
with the chief edifice. As the gates are strongly barred at night, it
is necessary that the sentinel should enter the sacred precincts of the
harem, for the purpose of closing them at night, and opening them in
the morning. For this purpose, certain individuals of the sentinels are
told off, and to them alone is the delicate duty confided. The Kaffir
despot does not employ for this purpose the unfortunate individuals who
guard the harems in Turkey, Persia, and even in Western Africa. But the
king takes care to select men who are particularly ill-favored; and
if any of them should happen to be deformed, he is sure to be chosen
as a janitor. Mr. Shooter’s servant, when talking with his master on
the subject, mentioned several individuals who would make excellent
janitors. One of them had a club-foot, another had a very protuberant
chest, while a third had bad eyes, and was altogether so ugly that he
would never succeed in procuring a wife. The matrimonial adventures of
this man will be narrated in a future page. His uniform failures in
procuring a legitimate wife were exceedingly ludicrous and mortifying,
and quite justified the opinion expressed by his companion.
CHAPTER VIII.
CATTLE KEEPING.
THE ISI-BAYA AND ITS PRIVILEGES -- MILKING COWS -- THE CURIOUS
MILK PAIL -- MODE OF MAKING IT -- A MILKING SCENE, AND THE VARIOUS
PERSONAGES EMPLOYED IN IT -- PRECAUTIONS TAKEN WITH A RESTIVE COW --
KAFFIR COW WHISTLES -- CHIEFS AND THEIR CATTLE -- MANAGEMENT OF THE
HERDS, AND CATTLE “LIFTING” -- A COW THE UNIT OF KAFFIR CURRENCY --
A KAFFIR’S WEALTH, AND THE USES TO WHICH IT IS PUT -- A KAFFIR ROB
ROY -- ADVENTURES OF DUTULU, HIS EXPLOITS, HIS ESCAPES, AND HIS DEATH
-- ODD METHOD OF ORNAMENTING COWS -- LE VAILLANT’S ACCOUNT OF THE
METHODS EMPLOYED IN DECORATING THE CATTLE -- HOW OBSTINATE COWS ARE
FORCED TO GIVE THEIR MILK -- A KAFFIR HOMESTEAD -- VARIOUS USES OF
CATTLE -- HOW MILK IS PREPARED -- “AMASI,” OR THICKENED MILK -- OTHER
USES FOR CATTLE -- THE SADDLE AND PACK OXEN -- HOW THEY ARE LADEN AND
GIRTHED.
The isi-baya is quite a sacred spot to a Kaffir, and in many tribes the
women are so strictly prohibited from entering it, that if even the
favorite wife were discovered within its precincts she would have but a
very poor chance of her life.
During the day-time the herd are out at pasture, watched by “boys”
appointed to this important office, but when night approaches, or if
there is any indication of danger from enemies, the cows are driven
into the isi-baya, and the entrances firmly barred. It is mostly in
this enclosure that the cattle are milked, this operation being always
intrusted to the men. Indeed, as is well observed by Mr. Shooter,
milking his cows is the only work that a Kaffir really likes. About ten
in the morning the cattle are taken into the isi-baya, and the Kaffir
proceeds to milk them. He takes with him his milk pail, an article very
unlike that which is in use in Europe. It is carved out of a solid
piece of wood, and has a comparatively small opening. The specimen from
which the figure on page 67 is drawn was brought to England by Mr.
Shooter, and is now before me. It is rather more than seventeen inches
in length, and is four inches wide at the top, and six inches near the
bottom. In interior measurement it is only fourteen inches deep, so
that three inches of solid wood are left at the bottom. Its capacity
is not very great, as the Kaffir cow does not give nearly as much milk
as the cows of an English farmyard. Toward the top are two projecting
ears, which enable the milker to hold it firmly between the knees.
In hollowing out the interior of the pail, the Kaffir employs a
rather ingenious device. Instead of holding it between his knees, as
he does when shaping and ornamenting the exterior, he digs a hole in
the ground, and buries the pail as far as the two projecting ears. He
then has both his hands at liberty, and can use more force than if he
were obliged to trust to the comparatively slight hold afforded by the
knees. Of course he sits down while at work, for a Kaffir, like all
other savages, has the very strongest objection to needless labor,
and will never stand when he has any opportunity of sitting. It will
be seen that the pail is not capable of holding much more than the
quantity which a good cow ought to yield, and when the Kaffir has done
with one cow, he pours the milk into a large receptacle, and then goes
off with his empty pail to another cow for a fresh supply.
The scene that presents itself in the isi-baya is a very singular one,
and strikes oddly upon European ears, as well as eyes. In the first
place, the figure of the milker is calculated to present an aspect
equally strange and ludicrous. Perfectly naked, with the exception of
the smallest imaginable apology for a garment, adorned with strings of
beads that contrast boldly with his red-black skin, and with his head
devoid of hair, except the oval ring which denotes his position as a
married “man,” the Kaffir sits on the ground, his knees on a level with
his chin, and the queer-looking milk pail grasped between them.
Then we have the spectacle of the calf trying to eject the milker, and
being continually kept away from her mother by a young boy armed with
a stick. And, in cases where the cow is vicious, a third individual is
employed, who holds the cow by her horns with one hand, and grasps her
nostrils firmly with the other. As soon as the supply of milk ceases,
the calf is allowed to approach its mother and suck for a short time,
after which it is driven away, and the man resumes his place. Cattle
are milked twice in the day, the second time being at sunset, when they
are brought home for the night. Generally, however, a cow will stand
still to be milked, as is the case with our own cattle, and in that
case no precaution is needed, except that of putting through the nose a
stick of some eighteen inches in length. The cattle know by experience
that if this is grasped and twisted it gives great pain, and so they
prefer to remain quiet. The hole in the nose is made at a very early
age.
[Illustration: 1. MILKING PAIL. 2. BEER-BOWL. 3. BEER-STRAINER. 4.
WATER-PIPE. 5. WOMAN’S BASKET.]
So much for the strangeness of the sight, which is very unlike a
corresponding scene in an English farmyard. The Kaffir is never silent
while milking his cows, but thinks it necessary to utter a series of
the oddest sounds that ever greeted mortal ears. Even in England there
seems to be a kind of universal cow language, in which every dairy-maid
and farmyard laborer is versed, and which is not easily learned by
an uninitiate. But the Kaffir, who is naturally an adept at shouting
and yelling, encourages the cow by all the varied screams at his
command, mixed with loud whistles and tender words of admiration. One
consequence of this curious proceeding is, that the cows have always
been so accustomed to associate these sounds with the process of being
milked, that when an Englishman buys cows he is obliged to have a
Kaffir to milk them, no white man being able to produce those cries,
screams, and whistles to which they have always been accustomed.
In driving the cattle, and in calling them from a distance, the Kaffir
makes great use of whistling, an art in which he excels. With his lips
alone he can produce the most extraordinary sounds, and by the aid of
his fingers he can whistle so loudly as to half deafen any one who may
be near. Sometimes, however, he has recourse to art, and makes whistles
of great efficacy, though of simple construction. They are made of
bone, or ivory, and are used by being held to the lower lip, and
sounded exactly as we blow a key when we wish to ascertain whether it
is clear.
The chiefs who possess many oxen are very fastidious about them, and
have an odd fancy of assembling them in herds, in which every animal
is of the same color. The oxen also undergo a sort of training, as was
remarked by Retief, who was killed in battle with Dingan, the Zulu
king. He paid a visit to that treacherous despot, and was entertained
by dances in which the cattle had been trained to assist. “In one
dance,” he says, “the people were intermixed with one hundred and
seventy-six oxen, all without horns, and of one color. They have long
strips of skin hanging pendent from the forehead, cheeks, shoulders,
and under the throat; these strips being cut from the hide when
the animals are calves. These oxen are divided into two and three
among the whole army, which then dance in companies, each with its
attendant oxen. In this way they all in turn approach the king, the
oxen turning off into a kraal, and then manœuvring in a line from the
king. It is surprising that the oxen should be so well trained; for,
notwithstanding all the startling and yelling which accompany the
dance, they never move faster than a slow walking pace. Dingan showed
me, as he said, his smallest herd of oxen, all alike, and with white
backs. He allowed two of my people to count them, and the enumeration
amounted to two thousand four hundred and twenty-four. I am informed
that his herds of red and black oxen consist of three to four thousand
each.” I may here mention casually, that the same fashion of keeping
animals of similar colors in separate herds is in force in South
America, among the owners of the vast herds of horses which thrive so
well in that country.
The Kaffirs manage their cattle with wonderful skill, and the animals
perfectly understand the meaning of the cries with which they are
assailed. Consequently, it is almost as difficult for an Englishman
to drive his cows as to milk them, and assistance has to be sought
from the natives. This noisy method of cattle driving is the source of
much difficulty to the soldiers, when they have been sent to recover
cattle stolen by those inveterate thieves, the Kaffir tribes, who look
upon the cattle of the white man as their legitimate prize, and are
constantly on the look-out for them. Indeed, they enact at the present
day that extinct phase of Scottish life when the inhabitants of the
Highlands stole the cattle of the Lowlanders, and euphemistically
described the operation as “lifting;” themselves not being by any means
thieves, but “gentleman drovers,” very punctilious in point of honor,
and thinking themselves as good gentlemen as any in the land.
The cow constitutes now, in fact, the wealth of the Kaffir, just as was
the case in the early patriarchal days. Among those tribes which are
not brought into connection with the white man, money is of no value,
and all wealth is measured by cows. One of the great inland chiefs,
when asking about the Queen of England, was naturally desirous of
hearing how many cattle she possessed, and on hearing that many of her
subjects had more cows than herself, conceived a very mean opinion of
her power. _He_ counted his cattle by the thousand, and if any inferior
chief had dared to rival him in his wealth, that chief would very soon
be incapacitated from possessing anything at all, while his cattle
would swell the number of the royal herds. His idea was, that even
if her predecessor had bequeathed so poor a throne to her, she ought
to assert her dignity by seizing that wealth which she had not been
fortunate enough to inherit.
The cow is the unit of money. The cost of anything that is peculiarly
valuable is reckoned by the number of cows that it would fetch if
sold, and even the women are reckoned by this standard, eight cows
equalling one woman, just as twelve pence equal one shilling. Most of
the wars which devastate Southern Africa are caused entirely by the
desire of one man to seize the herds that belong to another, and when
the white man is engaged in African warfare, he is perforce obliged to
wage it on the same principle. During the late Kaffir war, the reports
of the newspapers had a singularly unimposing appearance. The burden
of their song was invariably cows. General Blank had advanced so far
into the enemy’s country, and driven off five thousand head of cattle.
Or perhaps the case was reversed; the position of the European troops
had been suddenly surprised, and several thousand cattle stolen. In
fact, it seemed to be a war solely about cattle, and, to a certain
extent, that was necessarily the case. The cattle formed not only the
wealth of the enemy, but his resources, so that there was no better
way of bringing him to terms than by cutting off his commissariat, and
preventing the rebellious chiefs from maintaining their armed forces.
We had no wish to kill the Kaffirs themselves, but merely that they
should be taught not to meddle with us, and there was no better way of
doing so than by touching them on their tenderest point.
The greatest ambition of a Kaffir is to possess cattle, inasmuch
as their owner can command every luxury which a savage millionaire
desires. He can eat beef and drink sour milk every day; he can buy as
many wives as he likes, at the current price of eight to fourteen cows
each, according to the fluctuation of the market; he can make all kinds
of useful articles out of the hides; he can lubricate himself with
fat to his heart’s content, and he can decorate his sable person with
the flowing tails. With plenty of cattle, he can set himself up as a
great man; and, the more cattle he has, the greater man he becomes.
Instead of being a mere “boy,” living with a number of other “boys” in
one hut, he becomes a “man,” shaves his head, assumes the proud badge
of manhood, and has a hut to himself. As his cattle increase, he adds
more wives to his stock, builds separate huts for them, has a kraal of
his own, becomes the “umnumzana,” or great man--a term about equivalent
to the familiar “Burra Sahib” of Indian life--and may expect to be
addressed by strange boys as “inkosi,” or chief. Should his cattle
prosper, he gathers round him the young men who are still poor, and
who are attracted by his wealth, and the hope of eating beef at his
cost. He assigns huts to them within his kraal, and thus possesses an
armed guard who will take care of his cherished cattle. Indeed, such a
precaution is absolutely necessary. In Africa, as well as in Europe,
wealth creates envy, and a man who has succeeded in gathering it knows
full well that there are plenty who will do their best to take it
away. Sometimes a more powerful man will openly assault his kraal, but
stratagem is more frequently employed than open violence, and there
are in every tribe certain old and crafty cattle-stealers, who have
survived the varied dangers of such a life, and who know every ruse
that can be employed.
There is a story of one of these men, named Dutulu, who seems to have
been a kind of Kaffir Rob Roy. He always employed a mixture of artifice
and force. He used to set off for the kraal which he intended to rob,
and, in the dead of night, contrived to place some of his assistants by
the entrance of the huts. Another assistant then quietly removed the
cattle from the isi-baya, while he directed the operations. Dutulu then
caused an alarm to be made, and as the inmates crept out to see what
was the matter, they were speared by the sentinels at the entrance. Not
one was spared. The men were killed lest they should resist, and the
women lest they should give the alarm. Even when he had carried off the
cattle, his anxieties were not at an end, for cattle cannot be moved
very fast, and they are not easily concealed. But Dutulu was a man not
to be baffled, and he almost invariably succeeded in reaching home
with his spoil. He never, in the first instance, allowed the cattle to
be driven in the direction which he intended to take. He used to have
them driven repeatedly over the same spot, so as to mix the tracks and
bewilder the men who were sure to follow. More than once he baffled
pursuit by taking his stolen herd back again, and keeping it in the
immediate neighborhood of the desolated kraal, calculating rightly that
the pursuers would follow him in the direction of his own home.
The man’s cunning and audacity were boundless. On one occasion, his
own kraal was attacked, but Dutulu was far too clever to fall into the
trap which he had so often set for others. Instead of crawling out of
his hut and getting himself speared, he rolled up his leather mantle,
and pushed it through the door. As he had anticipated, it was mistaken
in the semi-darkness for a man, and was instantly pierced with a spear.
While the weapon was still entangled in the kaross, Dutulu darted from
his hut, sprang to the entrance of his isi-baya fully armed, and drove
off the outwitted assailants. Even in his old age his audacity did not
desert him, and he actually determined on stealing a herd of cattle in
the day-time. No one dared to join him, but he determined on carrying
out his desperate intention single-handed. He succeeded in driving the
herd to some distance, but was discovered, pursued, and surrounded by
the enemy. Although one against many, he fought his foes bravely, and,
although severely wounded, succeeded in escaping into the bush, where
they dared not follow him.
Undeterred by this adventure, he had no sooner recovered than he
planned another cattle-stealing expedition. His chief dissuaded him
from the undertaking, urging that he had quite enough cattle, that
he had been seriously wounded, and that he was becoming too old. The
ruling passion was, however, too strong to be resisted, and Dutulu
attacked a kraal on his old plan, letting the cattle be driven in one
direction, killing as many enemies as he could, and then running off on
the opposite side to that which had been taken by the cattle, so as to
decoy his pursuers in a wrong direction. However, his advanced years,
and perhaps his recent wounds, had impaired his speed, and as there
was no bush at hand, he dashed into a morass, and crouched beneath
the water. His enemies dared not follow him, but surrounded the spot,
and hurled their assagais at him. They did him no harm, because he
protected his head with his shield, but he could not endure the long
immersion. So, finding that his strength was failing, he suddenly left
the morass, and dashed at his enemies, hoping that he might force his
way through them. He did succeed in killing several of them, and in
passing their line, but he could not run fast enough to escape, and was
overtaken and killed.
So, knowing that men of a similar character are hankering after his
herd, their dusky owner is only too glad to have a number of young men
who will guard his cattle from such cunning enemies.
The love that a Kaffir has for his cattle induces him to ornament
them in various ways, some of which must entail no little suffering
upon them. To this, however, he is quite indifferent, often causing
frightful tortures to the animals which he loves, not from the least
desire of hurting them, but from the utter unconcern as to inflicting
pain which is characteristic of the savage, in whatever part of the
earth he may be. He trims the ears of the cows into all kinds of odd
shapes, one of the favorite patterns being that of a leaf with deeply
serrated edges. He gathers up bunches of the skin, generally upon
the head, ties string tightly round them, and so forms a series of
projecting knots of various sizes and shapes. He cuts strips of hide
from various parts of the body, especially the head and face, and lets
them hang down as lappets. He cuts the dewlap and makes fringes of it,
and all without the least notion that he is causing the poor animal to
suffer tortures.
But, in some parts of the country, he lavishes his powers on the horns.
Among us the horn does not seem capable of much modification, but a
Kaffir, skilful in his art, can never be content to leave the horns
as they are. He will cause one horn to project forward and another
backward, and he will train one to grow upright, and the other pointing
to the ground. Sometimes he observes a kind of symmetry, and has both
horns bent with their points nearly touching the shoulders, or trains
them so that their tips meet above, and they form an arch over their
head. Now and then an ox is seen in which a most singular effect has
been produced. As the horns of the young ox sprout they are trained
over the forehead until the points meet. They are then manipulated so
as to make them coalesce, and so shoot upward from the middle of the
forehead, like the horn of the fabled unicorn.
Le Vaillant mentions this curious mode of decorating the cattle, and
carefully describes the process by which it is performed. “I had
not yet taken a near view of the horned cattle which they brought
with them, because at break of day they strayed to the thickets and
pastures, and were not brought back by their keepers until the evening.
One day, however, having repaired to their kraal very early, I was
much surprised when I first beheld one of these animals. I scarcely
knew them to be oxen and cows, not only on account of their being much
smaller than ours, since I observed in them the same form and the same
fundamental character, in which I could not be deceived, but on account
of the multiplicity of their horns, and the variety of their different
twistings. They had a great resemblance to those marine productions
known by naturalists under the name of stag’s horns. Being at this
time persuaded that these concretions, of which I had no idea, were a
peculiar present of nature, I considered the Kaffir oxen as a variety
of the species, but I was undeceived by my guide, who informed me that
this singularity was only the effect of their invention and taste; and
that, by means of a process with which they were well acquainted,
they could not only multiply these horns, but also give them any form
that their imaginations might suggest. Having offered to exhibit their
skill in my presence, if I had any desire of learning their method,
it appeared to me so new and uncommon, that I was willing to secure
an opportunity, and for several days I attended a regular course of
lessons on this subject.
“They take the animal at as tender an age as possible, and when the
horns begin to appear they make a small vertical incision in them with
a saw, or any other instrument that may be substituted for it, and
divide them into two parts. This division makes the horns, yet tender,
separate of themselves, so that in time the animal has four very
distinct ones. If they wish to have six, or even more, similar notches
made with the saw produce as many as may be required. But if they are
desirous of forcing one of these divisions in the whole horn to form,
for example, a complete circle, they cut away from the point, _which
must not be hurt_, a small part of its thickness, and this amputation,
often renewed, and with much patience, makes the horn bend in a
contrary direction, and, the point meeting the root, it exhibits the
appearance of a perfect circle. As it is certain that incision always
causes a greater or less degree of bending, it may be readily conceived
that every variation that caprice can imagine may be produced by this
simple method. In short, one must be born a Kaffir, and have his taste
and patience, to submit to that minute care and unwearied attention
required for this operation, which in Kaffirland can only be useless,
but in other climates would be hurtful. For the horn, thus disfigured,
would become weak, whereas, when preserved strong and entire, it keeps
at a distance the famished bears and wolves of Europe.” The reader
must remember that the words refer to France, and that the date of Le
Vaillant’s travels was 1780-85.
The same traveller mentions an ingenious method employed by the Kaffirs
when a cow is bad-tempered, and will not give her milk freely. A rope
is tied to one of the hind feet, and a man hauls the foot off the
ground by means of the rope. The cow cannot run away on account of
the man who is holding her nose, and the pain caused by the violent
dragging of her foot backward, together with the constrained attitude
of standing on three legs, soon subdues the most refractory animal.
Before proceeding to another chapter, it will be well to explain the
illustration on page 57, called “The Kaffirs at Home.”
The spectator is supposed to be just inside the outer enclosure, and
nearly opposite to the isi-baya, in which some cattle are seen. In the
centre of the plate a milking scene is shown. The cow, being a restive
one, is being held by the “man,” by means of a stick passed through
its nostrils, and by means of the contrast between the man and the
animal the small size of the latter is well shown. A Kaffir ox averages
only four hundred pounds in weight. Beneath the cow is seen the milker,
holding between his knees the curiously shaped milkpail. On the right
hand is seen another Kaffir emptying a pailful of milk into one of the
baskets which are used as stores for this article. The reader will
notice that the orifice of the basket is very small, and so would cause
a considerable amount of milk to be spilt, if it were poured from the
wide mouth of the pail. The Kaffir has no funnel, so he extemporizes
one by holding his hands over the mouth of the pail, and placing his
thumbs so as to cause the milk to flow in a narrow stream between them.
A woman is seen in the foreground, going out to labor in the fields,
with her child slung at her back, and her heavy hoe on her shoulder.
In order to show the ordinary size of the huts a young Kaffir is shown
standing near one of them, while a “man” is seated against it, and
engaged alternately in his pipe and conversation. Three shield sticks
are seen in the fence of the isi-baya, and the strip of skin suspended
to the pole shows that the chief man of the kraal is in residence.
In front are several of the odd-shaped Cape sheep, with their long
legs and thick tails, in which the whole fat of the body seems to
concentrate itself. Two of the characteristic trees of the country
are shown, namely, an euphorbia standing within the fence, and an
acacia in the background. This last mentioned tree is sometimes called
Kameel-dorn, or Camel-thorn, because the giraffe, which the Dutch
colonists _will_ call a camel, feeds upon its leaves. In the distance
are two of those table-topped mountains which are so characteristic of
Southern Africa.
The Kaffir uses his cattle for various purposes. Whenever he can afford
such a luxury, which is very seldom, he feasts upon its flesh, and
contrives to consume a quantity that seems almost too much for human
digestion to undertake. But the chief diet is the milk of the cows,
generally mixed with meal, so as to form a kind of porridge. The milk
is never eaten in its fresh state, the Kaffirs thinking it to be very
indigestible. Indeed, they look upon fresh milk much as a beer-drinker
looks upon sweet-wort, and have an equal objection to drinking the
liquid in its crude state. When a cow has been milked, the Kaffir
empties the pail into a large store basket, such as is seen on the
right-hand of the engraving “Kaffirs at Home,” page 57. This basket
already contains milk in the second stage, and is never completely
emptied. Soon after the milk has been placed in the basket, a sort of
fermentation takes place, and in a short time the whole of the liquid
is converted into a semi-solid mass, and a watery fluid something like
whey. The latter is drawn off, and used as a drink, or given to the
children; and the remainder is a thick, clotted substance, about the
consistency of Devonshire cream.
This is called “amasi,” and is the staff of life to a Kaffir. Europeans
who have lived in Kaffirland generally dislike amasi exceedingly at
first, but soon come to prefer it to milk in any other form. Some
persons have compared the amasi to curds after the whey has been drawn
off; but this is not a fair comparison. The amasi is not in lumps or in
curd, but a thick, creamy mass, more like our clotted cream than any
other substance. It has a slightly acid flavor. Children, whether black
or white, are always very fond of amasi, and there can be no better
food for them. Should the Kaffir be obliged to use a new vessel for the
purpose of making this clotted milk, he always takes some amasi ready
prepared, and places it in the vessel together with the fresh milk,
where it acts like yeast in liquid fermentation, and soon reduces the
entire mass to its own consistency.
The oxen are also used for riding purposes, and as beasts of burden.
Europeans employ them largely as draught oxen, and use a great number
to draw a single wagon; but the wagon is an European invention, and
therefore without the scope of the present work. The native contrives
to ride the oxen without the use of a saddle, balancing himself
ingeniously on the sharply ridged back, and guiding his horned steed
by means of a stick through its nostrils, with a cord tied to each end
of it. He is not at all a graceful rider, but jogs along with his arms
extended, and his elbows jerking up and down with every movement of the
beast. Still, the ox answers his purpose; and, as it never goes beyond
a walking pace, no great harm is done by a fall.
Since the introduction of horses, the Kaffirs have taken a great liking
to them, and have proved themselves capable of being good horsemen,
after their fashion. This fashion is, always to ride at full gallop;
for they can see no object in mounting a swift animal if its speed is
not to be brought into operation. It is a very picturesque sight when
a party of mounted Kaffirs come dashing along, their horses at full
speed, their shields and spears in their hands, and their karosses
flying behind them as they ride. When they have occasion to stop, they
pull up suddenly, and are off their horses in a moment.
However the Kaffir may be satisfied with the bare back of the ox, the
European cannot manage to retain his seat. In the first place, the
sharp spine of the ox does not form a very pleasant seat; and in the
next place, its skin is so loose that it is impossible for the rider to
retain his place by any grasp of the legs. A few cloths or hides are
therefore placed on the animal’s back, and a long “reim,” or leathern
rope, is passed several times round its body, being drawn tightly
by a couple of men, one at each side. By this operation the skin is
braced up tight, and a saddle can be fixed nearly as firmly as on a
horse. Even under these circumstances, the movements of the ox are very
unpleasant to an European equestrian, and, although not so fatiguing as
those of a camel, require a tolerable course of practice before they
become agreeable.
This custom of tightly girthing is not confined to those animals which
are used for the saddle, but is also practised on those that are used
as pack-oxen; the loose skin rendering the packages liable to slip
off the animal’s back. The whole process of girthing the ox is a very
curious one. A sturdy Kaffir stands at each side, while another holds
the ox firmly by a stick passed through its nostrils. The skins or
cloths are then laid on the back of the ox, and the long rope thrown
over them. One man retains his hold of one end, while the other passes
the rope round the animal’s body. Each man takes firm hold of the rope,
puts one foot against the ox’s side, by way of a fulcrum, and then
hauls away with the full force of his body. Holding his own part of
the rope tightly with one hand, the second Kaffir dexterously throws
the end under the animal to his comrade, who catches it, and passes it
over the back, when it is seized as before. Another hauling-match now
takes place, and the process goes on until the cord is exhausted, and
the diameter of the ox notably diminished. In spite of the enormous
pressure to which it is subject, the beast seems to care little about
it, and walks away as if unconcerned. If the journey is a long one, the
ropes are generally tightened once or twice, the native drivers seeming
to take a strange pleasure in the operation.
The illustration No. 1, on page 73, shows the manner in which the
Kaffir employs the ox for riding and pack purposes. A chief is
returning with his triumphant soldiers from a successful expedition
against an enemy’s kraal, which they have “eaten up,” as their saying
is. In the foreground is seen the chief, fat and pursy, dressed in
the full paraphernalia of war, and seated on an ox. A hornless ox
is generally chosen for the saddle, in order to avoid the danger of
the rider falling forward and wounding himself; but sometimes the
Kaffir qualifies an ox for saddle purposes by forcing the horns to
grow downward, and in many instances contrives to make the horns flap
about quite loosely, as if they were only suspended by thongs from the
animal’s head. The soldiers are seen in charge of other oxen, laden
with the spoils of the captured kraal, to which they have set fire; and
in the middle distance, a couple of men are reloading a refractory ox,
and drawing the rope tightly round it, to prevent it from shaking off
its load a second time.
[Illustration: (1.) KAFFIR CATTLE--TRAINING THE HORNS. (See page 70.)]
[Illustration: (2.) RETURN OF A WAR PARTY. (See page 72.)]
CHAPTER IX.
MARRIAGE.
POLYGAMY PRACTISED AMONG THE KAFFIRS -- GOZA AND HIS WIVES -- NUMBER
OF A KING’S HAREM -- TCHAKA, THE BACHELOR KING -- THE KING AND HIS
SUCCESSORS -- A BARBAROUS CUSTOM -- CAUSES AND EFFECTS OF POLYGAMY
AMONG THE KAFFIRS -- DOMESTIC LIFE AND ITS CUSTOMS -- THE VARIED
DUTIES OF A WIFE -- ANECDOTE OF A KAFFIR HUSBAND -- JEALOUSY AND
ITS EFFECTS -- A FAVORITE WIFE MURDERED BY HER COMPANIONS -- MINOR
QUARRELS, AND SUMMARY JUSTICE -- THE FIRST WIFE AND HER PRIVILEGES --
MINUTE CODE OF LAWS -- THE LAW OF INHERITANCE AND PRIMOGENITURE --
THE MASTERSHIP OF THE KRAAL -- PROTECTION TO THE ORPHAN -- GUARDIANS,
THEIR DUTIES AND PRIVILEGES -- PRELIMINARIES TO MARRIAGE -- KAFFIR
COURTSHIP -- THE BRIDEGROOM ON APPROVAL -- AN UNWILLING CELIBATE
-- A KAFFIR LOVE TALE -- UZINTO AND HER ADVENTURES -- REWARD OF
PERSEVERANCE.
Contrary to general opinion, marriage is quite as important a matter
among the Kaffirs as with ourselves, and even though the men who
can afford it do not content themselves with one wife, there is as
much ceremony in the last marriage as in the first. As to the number
of wives, no law on that subject is found in the minute, though
necessarily traditional, code of laws, by which the Kaffirs regulate
their domestic polity. A man may take just as many wives as he can
afford, and the richer a man is, the more wives he has as a general
rule. An ordinary man has generally to be content with one, while those
of higher rank have the number of wives dependent on their wealth and
position. Goza, for example, whose portrait is given on page 117 and
who is a powerful chief, has a dozen or two of wives. There is now
before me a photograph representing a whole row of his wives, all
sitting on their heels, in the attitude adopted by Kaffir women, and
all looking rather surprised at the photographer’s operations. In our
sense of the word, none of them have the least pretence to beauty,
whatever may have been the case when they were young girls, but it is
evident that their joint husband was satisfied with their charms, or
they would not retain a position in his household.
As to the king, the number of his wives is illimitable. Parents come
humbly before him, and offer their daughters to him, only too proud
if he will accept them, and asking no payment for them. The reverence
for authority must be very strong in a Kaffir’s breast, if it can
induce him to forego any kind of payment whatever, especially as that
payment is in cattle. The king has perhaps twenty or thirty large
kraals in different parts of the country, and in each of them he has
a considerable number of wives, so that he is always at home whenever
he changes his residence from one kraal to another. In fact, he never
knows, within fifty or so, how many wives he has, nor would he know all
his wives by sight, and in consequence he is obliged to keep a most
jealous watch over his household, lest a neglected wife should escape
and take a husband, who, although a plebeian, would be her own choice.
In consequence of this feeling, none of the inhabitants of the royal
harem ever leave their house without a strong guard at hand, besides a
number of spies, who conceal themselves in unsuspected places, and who
would report to the king the slightest indiscretion on the part of any
of his wives. It is not even safe for a Kaffir to speak to one of these
closely guarded beauties, for, even if no guards are openly in sight, a
spy is sure to be concealed at no great distance, and the consequence
of such an indiscretion would be, that the woman would certainly lose
her life, and the man probably be a fellow sufferer.
That able and sanguinary chief Tchaka formed an exception to the
ordinary rule. He would accept as many dark maidens as might be offered
to him, but he would not raise one of them to the rank of wife. The
reason for this line of conduct was his horror of seeing a successor
to his throne. A Kaffir of rank always seems to think that he himself
is exempt from the ordinary lot of humanity, and will never speak of
the possibility of his own death, nor allow any one else to do so. In
a dependent, such a piece of bad breeding would be looked upon as an
overt act of treachery, and the thoughtless delinquent would instantly
lose the power of repeating the offence by forfeiting his life. Even
in an European, the offence would be a very grave one, and would jar
gratingly on the feelings of all who heard the ill-omened words. This
disinclination to speak of death sometimes shows itself very curiously.
On one occasion, an Englishman went to pay a visit to Panda, after
the contradiction of a report of that monarch’s death. After the
preliminary greetings, he expressed his pleasure at seeing the chief so
well, especially after the report of his death. The word “death” seemed
to strike the king and all the court like an electric shock, and an
ominous silence reigned around. At last Panda recovered himself, and,
with a voice that betrayed his emotion, said that such subjects were
never spoken of, and then adroitly changed the conversation.
Now, the idea of a successor implies the death of the present occupant
of the throne, and therefore Tchaka refused to marry any wives, from
whom his successor might be born. More than that, if any of the
inmates of his harem showed signs that the population was likely to
be increased, they were sure to be arrested on some trivial pretence,
dragged out of their homes, and summarily executed. We may feel
disposed to wonder that such a heartless monster could by any means
have found any inmates of his harem. But we must remember that of all
men a Kaffir chief is the most despotic, having absolute power over
any of his subjects, and his orders being obeyed with an instantaneous
obedience, no matter how revolting they might be. Parents would kill
their children and children their parents at his command; and so
strange a hold has obedience to the king upon the mind of a Kaffir,
that men have been known to thank him and utter his praises while being
beaten to death by his orders.
Therefore the parents of these ill-fated girls had no option in the
matter. If he wanted them he would take them, probably murdering their
parents, and adding their cattle to his own vast herds. By voluntarily
offering them they might possibly gain his good graces, and there might
be a chance that they would escape the fate that had befallen so
many of their predecessors in the royal favor. These strange effects
of despotism are by no means confined to Southern Africa, but are
found among more civilized people than the Kaffirs. We all remember
the opening story of the “Arabian Nights,” which furnishes the thread
on which all the stories are strung. How a king found that his wife
was unworthy of her position, and how he immediately rushed to the
conclusion that such unworthiness was not the fault of an individual,
but a quality inherent in the sex. How he reduced his principle to
practice by marrying a new wife every evening, and cutting off her head
next morning, until his purpose was arrested by the ingenious narrator
of the tales, who originated the practice now prevalent in periodicals,
namely, always leaving off unexpectedly in an interesting part of the
story.
This extraordinary proceeding on the part of an Oriental monarch is
told with a perfect absence of comment, and neither the narrator nor
the hearer displays any signs that such a line of conduct was strange,
or even culpable. The subjects who were called upon to supply such a
succession of wives certainly grumbled, but they continued to supply
them, and evidently had no idea that their monarch’s orders could be
disobeyed.
The effect of polygamy among the wives themselves is rather curious.
In the first place, they are accustomed to the idea, and have never
been led to expect that they would bear sole rule in the house. Indeed,
none of them would entertain such an idea, because the very fact that
a man possessed only one wife would derogate from his dignity, and
consequently from her own. There is another reason for the institution
of polygamy, namely, the division of labor. Like all savages, the
Kaffir man never condescends to perform manual labor, all real work
falling to the lot of the women. As to any work that requires bodily
exertion, the Kaffir never dreams of undertaking it. He would not even
lift a basket of rice on the head of his favorite wife, but would sit
on the ground and allow some woman to do it. One of my friends, when
rather new to Kaffirland, happened to look into a hut, and there saw
a stalwart Kaffir sitting and smoking his pipe, while the women were
hard at work in the sun, building huts, carrying timber, and performing
all kinds of severe labor. Struck with a natural indignation at such
behavior, he told the smoker to get up and work like a man. This idea
was too much even for the native politeness of the Kaffir, who burst
into a laugh at so absurd a notion. “_Women_ work,” said he, “_men_ sit
in the house and smoke.”
The whole cares of domestic life fall upon the married woman. Beside
doing all the ordinary work of the house, including the building of
it, she has to prepare all the food and keep the hungry men supplied.
She cannot go to a shop and buy bread. She has to till the ground, to
sow the grain, to watch it, to reap it, to thrash it, to grind it, and
to bake it. Her husband may perhaps condescend to bring home game that
he has killed, though he will not burden himself longer than he can
help. But the cooking falls to the woman’s share, and she has not only
to stew the meat, but to make the pots in which it is prepared. After
a hard day’s labor out of doors, she cannot go home and rest, but is
obliged to grind the maize or millet, a work of very great labor, on
account of the primitive machinery which is employed--simply one stone
upon another, the upper stone being rocked backward and forward with a
motion like that of a chemist’s pestle. The Kaffirs never keep flour
ready ground, so that this heavy task has to be performed regularly
every day. When she has ground the corn she has either to bake it
into cakes, or boil it into porridge, and then has the gratification
of seeing the men eat it. She also has to make the beer which is so
popular among the Kaffirs, but has very little chance of drinking the
product of her own industry.
It will be seen, therefore, that the work of a Kaffir wife is about
twice as hard as that of an English farm laborer, and that therefore
she is rather glad than otherwise when her husband takes another wife,
who may divide her labors. Moreover, the first wife has always a sort
of preëminence over the others, and retains it unless she forfeits the
favor of her husband by some peculiarly flagrant act, in which case she
is deposed, and another wife raised to the vacant honor. When such an
event takes place, the husband selects any of his wives that he happens
to like best, without any regard for seniority, and, as a natural
consequence, the youngest has the best chance of becoming the chief
wife, thus causing much jealousy among them. Did all the wives live in
the same house with their husband, the bickerings would be constant;
but, according to Kaffir law, each wife has her own hut, that belonging
to the principal wife being on the right hand of the chief’s house.
Sometimes, however, jealousy will prevail, in spite of these
preventives, and has been known to lead to fatal results. One case
of poisoning has already been mentioned (page 51), and others occur
more frequently than is known. One such case was a rather remarkable
one. There had been two wives, and a third was afterward added. The
other two wives felt themselves injured by her presence, and for a
year subjected her to continual persecution. One day, when the husband
returned to his house, he found her absent, and asked from the others
where she was. They replied that they did not know, and that when they
went to fetch firewood, according to daily custom, they had left her in
the kraal. Dissatisfied with the answer, he pressed them more closely,
and was then told that she had gone off to her father’s house. At the
first dawn he set off to the father’s kraal, and found that nothing
had been heard of her. His next step was to go to one of the witch
doctors, or prophets, and ask him what had become of his favorite wife.
The man answered that the two elder wives had murdered her. He set
off homeward, but before he reached his kraal, the dead body of the
murdered wife had been discovered by a herd boy. The fact was, that she
had gone out with the other two wives in the morning to fetch firewood,
a quarrel had arisen, and they had hanged her to a tree with the
bush-rope used in tying up the bundles of wood.
As to minor assaults on a favorite wife, they are common enough. She
will be beaten, or have her face scratched so as to spoil her beauty,
or the holes in her ears will be torn violently open. The assailants
are sure to suffer in their own turn for their conduct, their husband
beating them most cruelly with the first weapon that happens to come
to hand. But, in the mean time, the work which they have done has been
effected, and they have at all events enjoyed some moments of savage
vengeance. Fights often take place among the wives, but if the husband
hears the noise of the scuffle he soon puts a stop to it, by seizing a
stick, and impartially belaboring each combatant.
The position of a first wife is really one of some consequence.
Although she has been bought and paid for by her husband, she is not
looked upon as so utter an article of merchandise as her successors.
“When a man takes his first wife,” says Mr. Shooter, “all the cows
he possesses are regarded as her property. She uses the milk for the
support of her family, and, after the birth of her first son, they are
called his cattle. Theoretically, the husband can neither sell nor
dispose of them without his wife’s consent. If he wish to take a second
wife, and require any of these cattle for the purpose, he must obtain
her concurrence.”
“When I asked a native how this was to be procured, he said by flattery
and coaxing, or if that did not succeed, by bothering her until she
yielded, and told him not to do so to-morrow, _i. e._ for the future.
Sometimes she becomes angry, and tells him to take all, for they are
not hers, but his. If she comply with her husband’s polygamous desires,
and furnish cattle to purchase and indue a new wife, she will be
entitled to her services, and will call her _my_ wife. She will also
be entitled to the cattle received for a new wife’s eldest daughter.
The cattle assigned to the second wife are subject to the same
rules, and so on, while fresh wives are taken. Any wife may furnish
the cattle necessary to add a new member to the harem, and with the
same consequences as resulted to the first wife; but it seems that
the queen, as the first is called, can claim the right of refusal.”
It will be seen from this account of the relative stations of the
different wives, that the position of chief wife is one that would be
much prized, and we can therefore understand that the elevation of a
new comer to that rank would necessarily create a strong feeling of
jealousy in the hearts of the others.
In consequence of the plurality of wives, the law of inheritance is
most complicated. Some persons may wonder that a law which seems
to belong especially to civilization should be found among savage
tribes like the Kaffirs. But it must be remembered that the Kaffir is
essentially a man living under authority, and that his logical turn
of intellect has caused him to frame a legal code which is singularly
minute in all its details, and which enters not only into the affairs
of the nation, but into those of private life. The law respecting
the rank held by the wives, and the control which they exercise over
property, is sufficiently minute to give promise that there would
also be a law which regulated the share held in the property of their
respective children.
In order to understand the working of this law, the reader must
remember two facts which have been mentioned: the one, that the wives
do not live in common, but that each has her own house; and moreover,
that to each house a certain amount of cattle is attached, in theory,
if not in practice. When the headman of a kraal dies, his property is
divided among his children by virtue of a law, which, though unwritten,
is well known, and is as precise as any similar law in England. If
there should be an eldest son, born in the house of the chief wife,
he succeeds at once to his father’s property, and inherits his rank.
There is a very common Kaffir song, which, though not at all filial, is
characteristic. It begins by saying, “My father has died, and I have
all his cattle,” and then proceeds to expatiate on the joys of wealth.
He does not necessarily inherit all the cattle in the kraal, because
there may be sons belonging to other houses; in such cases, the eldest
son of each house would be entitled to the cattle which are recognized
as the property of that house. Still, he exercises a sort of paternal
authority over the whole, and will often succeed in keeping all the
family together instead of giving to each son his share of the cattle,
and letting them separate in different directions. Such a course of
proceeding is the best for all parties, as they possess a strength when
united, which they could not hope to attain when separated.
It sometimes happens that the owner of the kraal has no son, and in
that case, the property is claimed by his father, brother, or nearest
living relative,--always, if possible, by a member of the same house
as himself. It sometimes happens that no male relation can be found,
and when such a failure takes place, the property goes to the chief, as
the acknowledged father of the tribe. As to the women, they very seldom
inherit anything, but go with the cattle to the different heirs, and
form part of their property. To this general rule there are exceptional
cases, but they are very rare. It will be seen, therefore, that every
woman has some one who acts as her father, whether her father be living
or not, and although the compulsory dependent state of women is not
conducive to their dignity, it certainly protects them from many evils.
If, for example, a girl were left an orphan, an event which is of very
frequent occurrence in countries where little value is placed on human
life, she would be placed in a very unpleasant position, for either
she would find no husband at all, or she would be fought over by poor
and turbulent men who wanted to obtain a wife without paying for her.
Kaffir law, however, provides for this difficulty by making the male
relations heirs of the property, and, consequently, protectors of the
women; so that as long as there is a single male relation living, an
orphan girl has a guardian. The law even goes further, and contemplates
a case which sometimes exists, namely, that all the male relatives
are dead, or that they cannot be identified. Such a case as this may
well occur in the course of a war, for the enemy will sometimes swoop
down on a kraal, and if their plans be well laid, will kill every male
inhabitant. Even if all are not killed, the survivors may be obliged to
flee for their lives, and thus it may often happen that a young girl
finds herself comparatively alone in the world. In such a case, she
would go to another chief of her tribe, or even to the king himself,
and ask permission to become one of his dependants, and many instances
have been known where such refugees have been received into tribes not
their own.
When a girl is received as a dependant, she is treated as a daughter,
and if she should happen to fall ill, her guardian would offer
sacrifices for her exactly as if she were one of his own daughters.
Should a suitor present himself, he will have to treat with the
guardian exactly as if he were the father, and to him will be paid
the cattle that are demanded at the wedding. Mr. Fynn mentions that
the women are very tenacious about their relatives, and that in many
cases when they could not identify their real relations, they have made
arrangements with strangers to declare relationship with them. It is
possible that this feeling arises from the notion that a husband would
have more respect for a wife who had relations than for one who had
none.
As an example of the curious minuteness with which the Kaffir law goes
into the details of domestic polity, it may be mentioned that if a
female dependant be married, and should afterward be fortunate enough
to discover her real relatives, they may claim the cattle paid for her
by the husband. But they must give one of the cows to her protector as
payment for her maintenance, and the trouble taken in marrying her.
Moreover, if any cattle have been sacrificed on her behalf, these must
be restored, together with any others that may have been slaughtered
at the marriage-feast. The fact that she is paid for by her husband
conveys no idea of degradation to a Kaffir woman. On the contrary, she
looks upon the fact as a proof of her own worth, and the more cattle
are paid for her, the prouder she becomes. Neither would the husband
like to take a wife without paying the proper sum for her, because
in the first place it would be a tacit assertion that the wife was
worthless, and in the second, it would be an admission that he could
not afford to pay the usual price. Moreover, the delivery of the
cattle, on the one side, and the delivery of the girl on the other,
are considered as constituting the validity of the marriage contract,
and are looked upon in much the same light as the giving of a ring by
the husband and the giving away of the bride by her father in our own
marriage ceremonies.
What that price may be is exceedingly variable, and depends much on the
beauty and qualifications of the bride, and the rank of her father. The
ordinary price of an unmarried girl is eight or ten cows, while twelve
or fifteen are not unfrequently paid, and in some cases the husband
has been obliged to give as many as fifty before the father would part
with his daughter. Payment ought to be made beforehand by rights, and
the man cannot demand his wife until the cattle have been transferred.
This rule is, however, frequently relaxed, and the marriage is allowed
when a certain instalment has been paid, together with a guarantee
that the remainder shall be forthcoming within a reasonable time.
All preliminaries having been settled, the next business is for the
intending bridegroom to present himself to his future wife. Then,
although a certain sum is demanded for a girl, and must be paid
before she becomes a wife, it does not follow that she exercises no
choice whatever in accepting or rejecting a suitor, as may be seen
from the following passages taken from Mr. Shooter’s valuable work on
Kaffirland:--
“When a husband has been selected for a girl, she may be delivered to
him without any previous notice, and Mr. Fynn acknowledges that in
some cases this is done. But usually, he says, she is informed of her
parent’s intention a month or some longer time beforehand, in order,
I imagine, that she may, if possible, be persuaded to think favorably
of the man. Barbarians as they are, the Kaffirs are aware that it is
better to reason with a woman than to beat her; and I am inclined
to think that moral means are usually employed to induce a girl to
adopt her parent’s choice, before physical arguments are resorted to.
Sometimes very elaborate efforts are made, as I have been told, to
produce this result. The first step is to speak well of the man in her
presence; the kraal conspire to praise him--her sisters praise him--all
the admirers of his cattle praise him--he was never so praised before.
Unless she is very resolute, the girl may now perhaps be prevailed on
to see him, and a messenger is despatched to communicate the hopeful
fact, and summon him to the kraal. Without loss of time he prepares
to show himself to the best advantage; he goes down to the river, and
having carefully washed his dark person, comes up again dripping and
shining like a dusky Triton; but the sun soon dries his skin, and now
he shines again with grease.
“His dancing attire is put on, a vessel of water serving for a mirror;
and thus clothed in his best, and carrying shield and assagai, he
sets forth, with beating heart and gallant step, to do battle with
the scornful belle. Having reached the kraal he is received with a
hearty welcome, and squatting down in the family ‘circle’ (which is
here something more than a figure of speech), he awaits the lady’s
appearance. Presently she comes, and sitting down near the door stares
at him in silence. Then having surveyed him sufficiently in his present
attitude, she desires him through her brother (for she will not speak
to him) to stand up and exhibit his proportions. The modest man is
embarrassed; but the mother encourages him, and while the young ones
laugh and jeer, he rises before the damsel. She now scrutinizes him in
this position, and having balanced the merits and defects of a front
view, desires him (through the same medium as before) to turn round and
favor her with a different aspect. (See page 97.) At length he receives
permission to squat again, when she retires as mute as she came. The
family troop rush after her impatient to learn her decision; but she
declines to be hasty--she has not seen him walk, and perhaps he limps.
So, next morning, the unfortunate man appears in the cattle fold, to
exhibit his paces before a larger assembly. A volley of praises is
showered upon him by the interested spectators; and perhaps the girl
has come to think as they think, and signifies her approval. In this
case, arrangements are made for the betrothal.”
This amusing ceremony has two meanings--the first, that the contract
of marriage is a voluntary act on both sides; and the second, that the
intending bridegroom has as yet no authority over her. This last point
seems to be thought of some importance, as it is again brought forward
when the marriage ceremony takes place. That the girl has no choice in
a husband is evidently not true. There are, of course, instances in
Kaffirland, as well as in more civilized countries, where the parents
have set their hearts on a particular alliance, and have disregarded
the aversion of their daughters, forcing her by hard words and other
cruelties to consent to the match. But, as a general rule, although a
girl must be bought with a certain number of cows, it does not at all
follow that every one with the requisite means may buy her.
A rather amusing proof to the contrary is related by one of our clergy
who resided for a long time among the Kaffir tribes. There was one
“boy,” long past the prime of life, who had distinguished himself in
war, and procured a fair number of cows, and yet could not be ranked
as a “man,” because he was not married. The fact was, he was so very
ugly that he could not find any of the dusky beauties who would accept
him, and so he had to remain a bachelor in spite of himself. At last
the king took compassion on him, and authorized him to assume the
head-ring, and take brevet rank among the men, or “ama-doda,” just as
among ourselves an elderly maiden lady is addressed by courtesy as if
she had been married. Sometimes a suitor’s heart misgives him, and he
fears that, in spite of his wealth and the costly ornaments with which
he adorns his dark person, the lady may not be propitious. In this
case he generally goes to a witch doctor and purchases a charm, which
he hopes will cause her to relent. The charm is sometimes a root, or
a piece of wood, bone, metal, or horn, worn about the person, but it
most usually takes the form of a powder. This magic powder is given to
some trusty friend, who mixes it surreptitiously in the girl’s food,
sprinkles it on her dress, or deposits it in her snuff box, and shakes
it up with the legitimate contents.
Not unfrequently, when a suitor is very much disliked, and has not the
good sense to withdraw his claims, the girl takes the matter into her
own hands by running away, often to another tribe. There is always
a great excitement in these cases, and the truant is hunted by all
her relations. One of these flights took place when a girl had been
promised to the ill-favored bachelor who has just been mentioned. He
offered a chief a considerable number of cattle for one of his wards,
and paid the sum in advance, hoping so to clench the bargain. But when
the damsel found who her husband was to be, she flatly refused to marry
so ugly a man. Neither cajolements, threats, nor actual violence had
any effect, and at last she was tied up with ropes and handed over
to her purchaser. He took her to his home, but in a few hours she
contrived to make her escape, and fled for refuge to the kraal of a
neighboring chief, where it is to be hoped she found a husband more
to her taste. Her former possessor declined to demand her back again,
inasmuch as she had been paid for and delivered honorably, and on the
same grounds he declined to return the price paid for her. So the
unfortunate suitor lost not only his cattle but his wife.
This man was heartily ashamed of his bachelor condition, and always
concealed it as much as he could. One day, an Englishman who did not
know his history asked him how many wives he had; and, although he knew
that the falsehood of his answer must soon be detected, he had not
moral courage to say that he was a bachelor, and named a considerable
number of imaginary wives.
Now that the English have established themselves in Southern Africa,
it is not at all an unusual circumstance for a persecuted girl to take
refuge among them, though in many instances she has to be given up to
her relations when they come to search for her.
Sometimes the young damsel not only exercises the right of refusal,
but contrives to choose a husband for herself. In one such instance a
man had fallen into poverty, and been forced to become a dependant. He
had two unmarried daughters, and his chief proposed to buy them. The
sum which he offered was so small that the father would not accept it,
and there was in consequence a violent quarrel between the chief and
himself. Moreover, the girls themselves had not the least inclination
to become wives of the chief, who already had plenty, and they refused
to be purchased, just as their father refused to accept so niggardly
a sum for them. The chief was very angry, went off to Panda, and
contrived to extort an order from the king that the girls should become
the property of the chief at the price which he had fixed. The girls
were therefore taken to the kraal, but they would not go into any of
the huts, and sat on the ground, much to the annoyance of their new
owner, who at last had them carried into a hut by main force. One of
the girls, named Uzinto, contrived ingeniously to slip unperceived
from the hut at dead of night, and escaped from the kraal by creeping
through the fence, lest the dogs should be alarmed if she tried to
open the door. In spite of the dangers of night-travelling, she pushed
on toward Natal as fast as she could, having nothing with her but the
sleeping mat which a Kaffir uses instead of a bed, and which can be
rolled up into a cylinder and slung over the shoulders. On her way she
met with two adventures, both of which nearly frustrated her plan. At
the dawn of the day on which she escaped, she met a party of men, who
saw tears in her face, and taxed her with being a fugitive. However,
she was so ready with the answer that she had been taking snuff (the
Kaffir snuff always makes the eyes water profusely), that they allowed
her to proceed on her journey.
The next was a more serious adventure. Having come to the territories
of the Amakoba tribe, she went into a kraal for shelter at night, and
the inhabitants, who knew the quarrel between her father and the chief,
first fed her hospitably, and then tied her hand and foot, and sent
off a messenger to the chief from whom she had escaped. She contrived,
however, to get out of the kraal, but was captured again by the women.
She was so violent with them, and her conduct altogether so strange,
that they were afraid of her, and let her go her own way. From that
time she avoided all dwellings, and only travelled through the bush,
succeeding in fording the Tugela river at the end of the fourth day,
thus being out of Panda’s power. Her reason for undertaking this long
and perilous journey was twofold; first, that she might escape from
a husband whom she did not like, and secondly, that she might obtain
a husband whom she did. For in the Natal district was living a young
man with whom she had carried on some love-passages, and who, like
herself, was a fugitive from his own land. After some difficulty, she
was received as a dependant of a chief, and was straightway asked in
marriage by two young men. She would have nothing to say to them, but
contrived to find out her former lover. Then followed an absurd series
of scenes, too long to be narrated in detail.
First the young man was rather cool toward her, and so she went off in
a huff, and would not speak to him. Then he went after her, but was
only repulsed for his pains. Then they met while the chief’s corn was
being planted, and made up the quarrel, but were espied by the chief,
and both soundly beaten for idling instead of working. Then he fell
ill, and she went to see him, but would not speak a word. Then he got
well, and they had another quarrel, which was unexpectedly terminated
by Uzinto insisting on being married. The young man objected that he
did not know how many cows the chief would want for her, and that
he had not enough to pay for a wife. She was equal to the occasion,
however, fixed her own value at ten cows, and ordered him to work hard
until he had earned them. Meanwhile her protector had made up his mind
to take her for his own wife, thinking it a good opportunity to gain
another wife without paying for her. Uzinto, however, had not gone
through so much to lose the husband on whom she had set her heart, and
she went to the young man’s kraal, appeared before the headman, and
demanded to be instantly betrothed. He naturally feared the anger of
the chief, and sent her back again to his kraal, where, with tears,
sulking fits, anger fits, and threats of suicide, she worried all the
inmates so completely, that they yielded the point for the sake of
peace and quietness, accepted four cows from the lover as an instalment
of the required ten, and so married her to him at last.
There is another instance, where a girl fell ardently in love with a
young Kaffir chief, as he was displaying his agility in a dance. He did
not even know her, and was rather surprised when she presented herself
at his kraal, and avowed the state of her affections. He, however,
did not return them, and as the girl refused to leave his kraal, he
was obliged to send for her brother, who removed her by force. She
soon made her way back again, and this time was severely beaten for
her pertinacity. The stripes had no effect upon her; and in less than
a week she again presented herself. Finding that his sister was so
determined, the brother suggested that the too-fascinating chief had
better marry the girl, and so end the dispute; and the result was that
at last the lady gained her point, the needful cows were duly paid to
the brother, and the marriage took place.
Even after marriage, there are many instances where the wife has
happened to possess an intellect far superior to that of her husband,
and where she has gained a thorough ascendancy over him, guiding him
in all his transactions, whether of peace or war. And it is only just
to say that in these rare instances of feminine supremacy, the husband
has submitted to his wife’s guidance through a conviction that it was
exercised judiciously, and not through any weakness of character on his
own part, or ill-temper on hers.
CHAPTER X.
MARRIAGE--_Concluded_.
WEDDING CEREMONIES -- PROCESSION OF THE BRIDE -- THE WEDDING
DRESS -- THE OXEN -- THE WEDDING DANCE -- MUTUAL DEPRECIATION AND
ENCOURAGEMENT -- ADVICE TO THE BRIDEGROOM -- MUTUAL RELATIONS OF
HUSBANDS AND WIVES -- A KAFFIR PETRUCHIO -- THE OX OF THE GIRL --
UZINTO AGAIN -- THE OX OF THE SURPLUS -- ITS IMPORT -- VARIETIES OF
MARRIAGE CEREMONIES -- POWER OF DIVORCE -- COMPARISON OF THE KAFFIR
AND MOSAIC LAWS -- IRRESPONSIBLE AUTHORITY OF THE HUSBAND -- CURIOUS
CODE OF ETIQUETTE -- KAFFIR NAMES, AND MODES OF CHOOSING THEM --
THE BIRTH-NAME AND THE SURNAMES -- SUPERSTITIONS RESPECTING THE
BIRTH-NAME -- AN AMUSING STRATAGEM -- THE SURNAMES, OR PRAISE-NAMES
-- HOW EARNED AND CONFERRED -- VARIOUS PRAISE-NAMES OF PANDA -- A
KAFFIR BOASTER -- SONG IN PRAISE OF PANDA -- THE ALLUSIONS EXPLAINED
-- A STRANGE RESTRICTION, AND MODE OF EVADING IT -- INFERIOR POSITION
OF WOMEN -- WOMEN WITH FIREWOOD -- DIFFERENCE BETWEEN GIRLS OF
VARIOUS RANKS.
When the marriage-day is fixed, a ceremonial takes place, differing in
detail according to the wealth of the parties, but similar in all the
principal points. The bride, decked in all the beads and other finery
that she can muster, proceeds in a grand procession to the kraal of her
future husband. Her head is shaved with an assagai before she starts,
the little tuft of hair on the top of her bare pate is rubbed with red
paint, and dressed with various appliances, until it stands on end,
and the odd little tuft looks as much as possible like a red shaving
brush, with very short, diverging bristles. She is escorted by all her
young friends, and is accompanied by her mother and many other married
women of the tribe, all bedizened to the utmost. Her male relatives and
friends make a point of joining the procession, also dressed in their
best, but each bearing his shield and a bundle of assagais, so as to
guard the bride against enemies. She then seats herself, surrounded by
her companions, outside the kraal.
About this period of the ceremony there is generally a considerable
amount of by-play respecting certain oxen, which have to be given
by the bridegroom and the father of the bride. The former is called
the “Ukutu” ox, which is given to the mother of the bride by the
bridegroom. The word “Ukutu” literally signifies the leathern thongs
which are hung about the bodies of children by way of charms, and the
present of the ox to the mother is made in order to reimburse her for
the expenditure in thongs during her daughter’s childhood. The mother
does not keep the ox, but slaughters it and dresses it for the marriage
feast, and by the time that the wedding has been fairly begun, the
Ukutu ox is ready for the guests.
Another ox, called by the curious name of “Umquoliswa,” is given by the
bridegroom to the girl’s father, and about this there is much ceremony,
as is narrated by Mr. Shooter. “The day having considerably advanced,
the male friends of the bride go to the bridegroom’s kraal to claim
the ox called Umquoliswa. In a case which I witnessed, they proceeded
in a long file, with a step difficult to describe, being a sort of
slow and measured stamping, an imitation of their dancing movement.
Wearing the dress and ornaments previously mentioned as appropriated to
occasions of festivity, they brandished shields and sticks, the usual
accompaniment of a wedding dance; while their tongues were occupied
with a monotonous and unsentimental chant--
“‘Give us the Umquoliswa,
We desire the Umquoliswa.’
[Illustration: PROCESSION OF THE BRIDE. (See page 82.)]
“In this way they entered the kraal, and, turning to the right,
reached the principal hut. The father of the girl now called upon the
bridegroom, who was inside, to come forth and give them the Umquoliswa.
The latter replied that he had no ox to present to them. He was then
assured that the bride would be taken home; but he remained invisible
until other members of the party had required him to appear. Having
left the house, he hurried to the gateway, and attempted to pass
it. His exit, however, was barred by a company of women already in
possession of the entrance, while a smile on his face showed that his
efforts to escape were merely formal, and that he was going through
an amusing ceremony. The Umquoliswa was now fetched from the herd,
and given to the bride’s party, who were bivouacking under the lee
of a clump of bush. Her sisters affected to despise it as a paltry
thing, and bade the owner produce a better. He told them that it was
the largest and the fattest that he could procure; but they were not
satisfied--they would not eat it. Presently, the father put an end to
their noisy by-play, and accepted the beast. The bride then ran toward
the kraal, and after a while the dances commenced.”
The dances are carried on with the violent, and almost furious energy
that seems to take possession of a Kaffir’s soul when engaged in the
dance, the arms flourishing sticks, shields, and spears, while the legs
are performing marvellous feats of activity. First, the bridegroom
and his companions seat themselves in the cattle pen, and refresh
themselves copiously with beer, while the party of the bride dances
before him. The process is then reversed, the bride sitting down, and
her husband’s party dancing before her. Songs on both sides accompany
the dance.
The girl is addressed by the matrons belonging to the bridegroom’s
party, who depreciate her as much as possible, telling her that her
husband has given too many cows for her, that she will never be able
to do a married woman’s work, that she is rather plain than otherwise,
and that her marriage to the bridegroom is a wonderful instance of
condescension on his part. This cheerful address is intended to prevent
her from being too much elated by her translation from the comparative
nonentity of girlhood to the honorable post of a Zulu matron.
Perfect equity, however, reigns; and when the bride’s party begin to
dance and sing, they make the most of their opportunity. Addressing the
parents, they congratulate them on the possession of such a daughter,
but rather condole with them on the very inadequate number of cows
which the bridegroom has paid. They tell the bride that she is the
most lovely girl in the tribe, that her conduct has been absolute
perfection, that the husband is quite unworthy of her, and ought to be
ashamed of himself for making such a hard bargain with her father. Of
course neither party believes a word that is said, but everything in
Kaffirland must be conducted with the strictest etiquette.
After each dance, the leader--usually the father--addresses a speech
to the contracted couple; and, if the bridegroom be taking a wife for
the first time, the quantity of good advice that is heaped upon him
by the more experienced would be very useful if he were likely to pay
any attention to it. He is told that, being a bachelor, he cannot know
how to manage a wife, and is advised not to make too frequent use of
the stick, by way of gaining obedience. Men, he is told, can manage
any number of wives without using personal violence; but boys are
apt to be too hasty with their hands. The husband of Uzinto, whose
adventures have already been related, made a curious stipulation when
thus addressed, and promised not to beat her _if she did not beat him_.
Considering the exceedingly energetic character of the girl, this was
rather a wise condition to make.
All these preliminaries being settled, the bridegroom seats himself
on the ground while the bride dances before him. While so doing, she
takes the opportunity of calling him by opprobrious epithets, kicks
dust in his face, disarranges his elegant headdress, and takes similar
liberties by way of letting him know that he is not her master yet.
After she is married she will take no such liberties.
Then another ox comes on the scene, the last, and most important of
all. This is called the Ox of the Girl, and has to be presented by the
bridegroom.
It must here be mentioned that, although the bridegroom seems to be
taxed rather heavily for the privilege of possessing a wife, the
tax is more apparent than real. In the first place, he considers
that all these oxen form part of the price which he pays for the
wife in question, and looks upon them much in the same light that
householders regard the various taxes that the occupier of a house
has to pay--namely, a recognized addition to the sum demanded for the
property. The Kaffir husband considers his wife as much a portion of
his property as his spear or his kaross, and will sometimes state the
point very plainly.
When a missionary was trying to remonstrate with a Kaffir for throwing
all the hard work upon his wife and doing nothing at all himself, he
answered that she was nothing more or less than his ox, bought and
paid for, and must expect to be worked accordingly. His interlocutor
endeavored to strengthen his position by mentioning the manner in
which Europeans treated their wives, but met with little success in
his argument. The Kaffir’s reply was simple enough, and perfectly
unanswerable. “White men do not buy their wives, and the two cases are
not parallel.” In fact, a Kaffir husband’s idea of a wife does not
differ very far from that of Petruchio, although the latter did happen
to be an European--
“I will be master of what is mine own;
She is my goods, my chattels, she is my house,
My household stuff, my field, my barn,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything.”
And the Kaffir wife’s idea of a husband is practically that of the
tamed Katherine--
“Thy husband is thy lord, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign”--
though she could by no manner of means finish the speech with truth,
and say that he labors for her while she abides at home at ease, and
asks no other tribute but obedience and love. The former portion of
that tribute is exacted; the latter is not so rare as the circumstances
seem to denote.
The sums which a Kaffir pays for his wife he considers as property
invested by himself, and expected to return a good interest in the long
run, and, as has already been mentioned, there are often circumstances
under which he takes credit for the amount, and expects to be repaid.
So, although a bridegroom is obliged to part with certain cattle on the
occasion of his wedding, he keeps a very accurate mental account of
them, and is sure to repay himself in one way or another.
After the Ox of the Girl has been furnished, it is solemnly
slaughtered, and this constitutes the binding portion of the marriage.
Up to that time the father or owner of the girl might take her back
again, of course returning the cattle that had been paid for her, as
well as those which had been presented and slaughtered. Our heroine,
Uzinto, afforded an example of this kind. The bridegroom had a natural
antipathy to the chief, who had tried to marry the lady by force, and
showed his feelings by sending the very smallest and thinnest ox that
could be found. The chief remonstrated at this insult, and wanted to
annul the whole transaction. In this he might have succeeded, but for
a curious coincidence. The father of the bride had finally quarrelled
with his chief, and had been forced to follow the example of his
daughter and her intended husband, and to take refuge in Natal. Just
at the wedding he unexpectedly made his appearance, and found himself
suddenly on the way to wealth. His daughter was actually being married
to a man who had engaged to pay ten cows for her. So he did not
trouble himself in the least about the size of the ox that was to be
slaughtered, but accepted the animal, and accordingly became owner of
the cows in question, _minus_ those which had to be paid as honorary
gifts to the disappointed chief and the successful lover.
After the ceremonies are over, the husband takes his wife home, the
character of that home being dependent on his rank and wealth. But when
the couple have fairly taken up their abode, the father or previous
owner of the wife always sends one ox to her husband. This ox is called
the Ox of the Surplus, and represents several ideas. In the first place
it is supposed to imply that the girl’s value very far exceeds that
of any number of oxen which can be given for her, and is intended to
let the bridegroom know that he is not to think too much of himself.
Next, it is an admission on the father’s side that he is satisfied
with the transaction, and that when he dies he will not avenge himself
by haunting his daughter’s household, and so causing the husband to
be disappointed in his wishes for a large family of boys and girls,
the first to be warriors and extend the power of his house, and the
second to be sold for many cows and increase his wealth. So curiously
elaborate are the customs of the Kaffirs, that when this Ox of the
Surplus enters the kraal of the husband it is called by another name,
and is then entitled “The Ox that opens the Cattle-fold.” The theory
of this name is, that the husband has paid for his wife all his oxen,
and that in consequence the cattle-fold is empty. But the ox that she
brings with her reopens the gate of the fold, and is looked upon as an
earnest of the herds that are to be purchased with the daughters which
she may have in the course of her married life. These curious customs
strongly remind us of the old adage respecting the counting of chickens
before they are hatched, but the Kaffir seems to perform that premature
calculation in more ways than one.
The reader will understand that these minute and complicated ceremonies
are not always observed in precisely the same manner. In many cases,
especially when the Kaffirs have lived for any length of time under
the protection of white men, there is very little, if any ceremony;
the chief rites being the arrangement with the girl’s owner or father,
the delivery of the cattle, and the transfer of the purchased girl to
the kraal of her husband. Moreover, it is very difficult for white
men to be present at Kaffir ceremonies, and in many cases the Kaffirs
will pretend that there is no ceremony at all, in order to put their
interrogators off the track. The foregoing account is, however, a
tolerably full description of the ceremonies that are, or have been,
practised by the great Zulu tribe.
A marriage thus made is considered quite as binding as any ceremony
among ourselves, and the Kaffir may not put away his wife except
for causes that are considered valid by the councillors of the
tribe. Infidelity is, of course, punished by instant dismissal of
the unfaithful wife, if not by her death, the latter fate invariably
befalling the erring wife of a chief. As for the other culprit,
the aggrieved husband has him at his mercy, and sometimes puts him
to death, but sometimes commutes that punishment for a heavy fine.
Constant and systematic disobedience is also accepted as a valid cause
of divorce, and so is incorrigible idleness. The process of reasoning
is, that the husband has bought the woman in order to perform certain
tasks for him. If she refuses to perform them through disobedience, or
omits to perform them through idleness, it is clear that he has paid
his money for a worthless article, and is therefore entitled to return
her on the hands of the vendor, and to receive back a fair proportion
of the sum which he has paid. Sometimes she thinks herself ill treated,
and betakes herself to the kraal of her father. In this case, the
father can keep her by paying back the cattle which he has received for
her; and if there should be any children, the husband retains them as
hostages until the cattle have been delivered. He then transfers them
to the mother, to whom they rightly belong.
Another valid cause of divorce is the misfortune of a wife being
childless. The husband expects that she shall be a fruitful wife, and
that his children will add to his power and wealth; and if she does not
fulfil this expectation, he is entitled to a divorce. Generally, he
sends the wife to the kraal of her father, who propitiates the spirits
of her ancestors by the sacrifice of an ox, and begs them to remove the
cause of divorce. She then goes back to her husband, but if she should
still continue childless, she is sent back to her father, who is bound
to return the cattle which he has received for her. Sometimes, however,
a modification of this system is employed, and the father gives, in
addition to the wife, one of her unmarried sisters, who, it is hoped,
may better fulfil the wishes of the husband. The father would rather
follow this plan than consent to a divorce, because he then retains
the cattle, and to give up a single ox causes pangs of sorrow in a
Kaffir’s breast. Should the sister become a fruitful wife, one or two
of the children are transferred to the former wife, and ever afterward
considered as belonging to her house.
All these details remind the observer of similar details in the
Mosaic law of marriage, and, in point of fact, the social condition
of the Kaffir of the present day is not very different from that of
the Israelite when the Law was first promulgated through the great
legislator. Many of the customs are identical, and in others there is
a similitude that is almost startling. But, as far as the facility of
divorce goes, the Kaffir certainly seems to look upon marriage, even
though he may have an unlimited number of wives, with more reverence
than did the ancient Israelite, and he would not think of divorcing a
wife through a mere caprice of the moment, as was sanctioned by the
traditions of the Jews, though not by their divinely given law.
Still, though he does not, as a general rule, think himself justified
in such arbitrary divorces, he considers himself gifted with an
irresponsible authority over his wives, even to the power of life and
death. If, for example, a husband in a fit of passion were to kill
his wife--a circumstance that has frequently occurred--no one has any
business to interfere in the matter, for, according to his view of the
case, she is his property, bought, and paid for, and he has just as
much right to kill her as if she were one of his goats or oxen. Her
father cannot proceed against the murderer, for he has no further right
in his daughter, having sold her and received the stipulated price.
The man has, in fact, destroyed valuable property of his own--property
which might be sold for cows, and which was expected to work for him,
and produce offspring exchangeable for cows. It is thought, therefore,
that if he chooses to inflict upon himself so severe a loss, no one has
any more right to interfere with him than if he were to kill a number
of oxen in a fit of passion. Sometimes, however, the chief has been
known to take such a matter in hand, and to fine the delinquent in a
cow or two for destroying a valuable piece of property, which, though
his own, formed a unit in the strength of the tribe, and over which he,
as the acknowledged father of the tribe, had a jurisdiction. But, even
in such rare instances, his interference, although it would be made
ostensibly for the sake of justice, would in reality be an easy mode of
adding to his own wealth by confiscating the cattle which he demanded
as a fine from the culprit.
Between married persons and their relatives a very singular code of
etiquette prevails. In the first place, a man is not allowed to marry
any one to whom he is related by blood. He may marry two or more
sisters, provided that they come from a different family from his
own, but he may not take a wife who descended from his own immediate
ancestors. But, like the ancient Hebrews, a man may not only marry
the wife of a deceased brother, but considers himself bound to do so
in justice to the woman, and to the children of his brother, who then
become to all intents and purposes his own.
The peculiar etiquette which has been mentioned lies in the social
conduct of those who are related to each other by marriage and not
by blood. After a man is married, he may not speak familiarly to his
wife’s mother, nor even look upon her face, and this curious custom is
called “being ashamed of the mother-in-law.” If he wishes to speak to
her, he must retire to some distance, and carry on his communication by
shouting: which, as has been truly said, is certainly no hardship to a
Kaffir. Or, if the communication be of a nature that others ought not
to hear, the etiquette is thought to be sufficiently observed provided
that the two parties stand at either side of a fence over which they
cannot see.
If, as is often the case, the man and his mother-in-law happen to meet
in one of the narrow paths that lead from the kraal to the gardens and
cultivated fields, they must always pretend not to see each other.
The woman generally looks out for a convenient bush, and crouches
behind it, while the man carefully holds his shield to his face.
So far is this peculiar etiquette carried that neither the man nor
his mother-in-law is allowed to mention the name of the other. This
prohibition must in all places be exceedingly awkward, but it is more
so in Kaffirland, where the name which is given to each individual is
sure to denote some mental or physical attribute, or to be the name
of some natural object which is accepted as the embodiment of that
attribute.
Supposing, then, that the name of the man signified a house, and that
the name of his mother-in-law signified a cow, it is evident that each
must be rather embarrassed in ordinary conversation. Persons thus
situated always substitute some other word for that which they are
forbidden to pronounce, and that substitution is always accepted by the
friends. Curiously circumlocutory terms are thus invented, and very
much resemble the euphemisms which prevail both in Northern America and
Northern Europe. In such a case as has been mentioned, the man might
always speak of a cow as the “horned one,” and the woman would use the
word “dwelling” or “habitation” instead of “house.”
As, moreover, a man has generally a considerable number of
mothers-in-law, it is evident that this rule must sometimes be
productive of much inconvenience, and cause the memory to be always
on the stretch. How such a man as Panda, who has at least a thousand
mothers-in-law, contrives to carry on conversation at all, is rather
perplexing. Perhaps he is considered to be above the law, and that
his words are as irresponsible as his actions. The reader may perhaps
remember that a similar custom prevails throughout the greater part of
Polynesia.
[Illustration: KAFFIR PASSING HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW.]
The wife, again, is interdicted from pronouncing the name of her
husband, or that of any of his brothers. This seems as if she would
be prevented from speaking to him in familiar terms, but such is not
really the case. The fact is, that every Kaffir has more than one name;
and the higher the rank, the greater the number of names. At birth, or
soon afterward, a name is given to the child, and this name has always
reference to some attribute which the child is desired to possess, or
to some circumstance which has occurred at the time.
For example, a child is sometimes called by the name of the day on
which it is born, just as Robinson Crusoe called his servant Friday.
If a wild beast, such as a lion or a jackal, were heard to roar at the
time when the child was born, the circumstance would be accepted as an
omen, and the child called by the name of the beast, or by a word which
represents its cry. Mr. Shooter mentions some rather curious examples
of these names. If the animal which was heard at the time of the
child’s birth were the hyæna, which is called _impisi_ by the natives,
the name of the child might be either U’mpisi, or U-huhu, the second
being an imitative sound representing the laugh-like cry of the hyæna.
A boy whose father prided himself on the number of his stud, which of
course would be very much increased when his son inherited them, called
the child “Uso-mahashe,” _i. e._ the father of horses. This child
became afterward a well-known chief in the Natal district. A girl,
again, whose mother had been presented with a new hoe just before her
daughter was born, called the girl “Uno-ntsimbi,” _i. e._ the daughter
of iron. The name of Panda, the king of the Zulu tribes, is in reality
“U-mpande,” a name derived from “impande,” a kind of root.
These birth-names are known by the title “igama,” and it is only to
them that the prohibitive custom extends. In the case of a chief, his
igama may not be spoken by any belonging to his kraal; and in the case
of a king, the law extends to all his subjects. Thus, a Kaffir will not
only refuse to speak of Panda by his name, but when he has occasion to
speak of the root impande, he substitutes another word, and calls it
“ingxabo.”
A Kaffir does not like that a stranger should even hear his igama,
for he has a hazy sort of idea that the knowledge might be used for
some evil purpose. One of my friends, who lived in Kaffirland for some
years, and employed a considerable number of the men, never could
induce any of them to tell him their igama, and found that they would
always prefer to be called by some English name, such as Tom, or Billy.
At last, when he had attained a tolerable idea of the language, he
could listen to their conversation, and so find out the real names by
which they addressed each other. When he had mastered these names, he
took an opportunity of addressing each man by his igama, and frightened
them exceedingly. On hearing the word spoken, they started as if they
had been struck, and laid their hands on their mouths in horrified
silence. The very fact that the white man had been able to gain the
forbidden knowledge affected them with so strong an idea of his
superiority that they became very obedient servants.
In addition to the igama, the Kaffir takes other names, always in
praise of some action that he has performed, and it is thought good
manners to address him by one or more of these titles. This second name
is called the “isi-bonga,” a word which is derived from “uku-bonga,” to
praise. In Western Africa, a chief takes, in addition to his ordinary
name, a whole series of “strong-names,” all allusive to some portion of
his history. Sometimes, the isi-bonga is given to him by others. For
example, as soon as a boy is enrolled among the youths, his parents
give him an isi-bonga; and when he assumes the head-ring of manhood,
he always assumes another praise-name. If a man distinguishes himself
in battle, his comrades greet him by an isi-bonga, by which he is
officially known until he earns another. On occasions of ceremony he
is always addressed by one or more of these praise-names; and if he
be visited by an inferior, the latter stands outside his hut, and
proclaims aloud as many of his titles as he thinks suitable for the
occasion. It is then according to etiquette to send a present of
snuff, food, and drink to the visitor, who again visits the hut, and
recommences his proclamation, adding more titles as an acknowledgment
of the chief’s liberality.
A king has, of course, an almost illimitable number of isi-bongas, and
really to learn them all in order requires a memory of no mean order.
Two or three of them are therefore selected for ordinary use, the
remainder being reserved for the heralds whose peculiar office it is
to recite the praises of their monarch. Panda, for example, is usually
addressed as “O Elephant.” This is merely a symbolical isi-bonga, and
is given to the king as admitting him to be greatest among men as the
elephant is greatest among beasts. In one sense it is true enough, the
elephantine proportions of Panda quite justifying such an allusion.
This title might be given to any very great man, but it is a convenient
name by which the king may be called, and therefore by this name he is
usually addressed in council and on parade.
For example, Mr. Shooter recalls a little incident which occurred
during a review by Panda. The king turned to one of the “boys,” and
asked how he would behave if he met a white man in battle? Never was
there a more arrant coward than this “boy,” but boasting was safe, and
springing to his feet he spoke like a brave: “Yes, O Elephant! You see
me! I’ll go against the white man. His gun is nothing. I’ll rush upon
him quickly before he has time to shoot, or I’ll stoop down to avoid
the ball. See how I’ll kill him!” and forthwith his stick did the work
of an assagai on the body of an imaginary European. Ducking to avoid a
bullet, and then rushing in before the enemy had time to reload, was a
very favorite device with the Kaffir warriors, and answered very well
at first. But their white foes soon learned to aim so low that all the
ducking in the world could not elude the bullet, while the more recent
invention of revolvers and breech-loaders has entirely discomfited this
sort of tactics.
In a song in honor of Panda, a part of which has already been quoted,
a great number of isi-bongas are introduced. It will be therefore
better to give the song entire, and to explain the various allusions
in their order. It must be remembered that in his earlier days Panda,
whose life was originally spared by Dingan, when he murdered Tchaka
and the rest of the family, was afterward obliged to flee before him,
and very ingeniously contrived to get off safely across the river
by watching his opportunity while the army of Dingan was engaged in
another direction. He then made an alliance with the white men, brought
a large force against Dingan, and conquered him, driving him far beyond
the boundaries, and ending by having himself proclaimed as King of the
Zulu tribes. This fight took place at the Makonko, and was witnessed by
Panda’s wife, who came from Mankebe. The various praise-names of Panda,
or the isi-bongas, are marked by being printed in italics.
“1. Thou brother of the Tchakas, _considerate forder_,
2. _A swallow which fled in the sky_;
3. A swallow with a whiskered breast;
4. Whose cattle was ever in so huddled a crowd,
5. They stumbled for room when they ran.
6. Thou false adorer of the valor of another,
7. That valor thou tookest at the battle of Makonko.
8. Of the stock of N’dabazita, _ramrod of brass_,
9. _Survivor alone of all other rods_;
10. Others they broke and left this in the soot,
11. Thinking to burn it some rainy cold day.
12. _Thigh of the bullock of Inkakavini_,
13. Always delicious if only ’tis roasted,
14. It will always be tasteless if boiled.
15. The woman from Mankebe is delighted;
16. She has seen the leopards of Jama
17. Fighting together between the Makonko.
18. He passed between the Jutuma and Ihliza,
19. The Celestial who thundered between the Makonko.
20. I praise thee, O king! son of Jokwane, the son of Undaba,
21. The merciless opponent of every conspiracy.
22. Thou art an _elephant_, an _elephant_, an _elephant_.
23. All glory to thee, thou _monarch who art black_.”
The first isi-bonga in line 1, alludes to the ingenuity with which
Panda succeeded in crossing the river, so as to escape out of the
district where Dingan exercised authority. In the second line, “swallow
which fled in the sky,” is another allusion to the secrecy with which
he managed his flight, which left no more track than the passage of a
swallow through the air. Lines 4 and 5 allude to the wealth, _i. e._
the abundance of cattle, possessed by Panda. Line 6 asserts that Panda
was too humble-minded, and thought more of the power of Dingan than
it deserved; while line 7 offers as proof of this assertion that when
they came to fight Panda conquered Dingan. Lines 8 to 11 all relate
to the custom of seasoning sticks by hanging them over the fireplaces
in Kaffir huts. Line 14 alludes to the fact that meat is very seldom
roasted by the Kaffirs, but is almost invariably boiled, or rather
stewed, in closed vessels. In line 15 the “woman from Mankebe” is
Panda’s favorite wife. In line 19, “The Celestial” alludes to the name
of the great Zulu tribe over which Panda reigned; the word “Zulu”
meaning celestial, and having much the same import as the same word
when employed by the Chinese to denote their origin. Line 21 refers
to the attempts of Panda’s rivals to dethrone him, and the ingenious
manner in which he contrived to defeat their plans by forming judicious
alliances. Line 22 reiterates the chief isi-bonga by which he is orally
addressed, and the words “Monarch who art black” have already been
explained at p. 12, when treating of the appearance of the Kaffir
tribes.
As is the case in many countries, when a man has his first-born son
presented to him he takes as a new isi-bonga the name of the son,
with that of “father” prefixed to it; while, on the other hand, if
his father should happen to be a man of peculiar eminence he takes as
a praise-name that of his father, with the word “son” prefixed. It
will be seen, therefore, that while the original name, or igama, is
permanent, though very seldom mentioned, his isi-bonga, or praise-name,
is continually changing.
Fortunately, the Zulu language is complex in its structure, and its
purity is jealously preserved by the continual councils which are held,
and the displays of oratory which always accompany them. Otherwise,
this curious custom of substituting arbitrarily one word for another
might have an extremely injurious effect on the language, as has indeed
been the case in the countries where a similar custom prevails, and
in which the language has changed so completely that the natives who
had left their own country, and returned after a lapse of some thirty
years, would scarcely be able to make themselves understood, even
though they had perfectly retained the language as it was when they
last spoke it in their own land.
There is a curious regulation among the Kaffirs, that a man is not
allowed to enter the hut in which either of his son’s wives may be.
If he wishes to enter he gives notice, and she retires. But, when he
is in possession of the hut, she is placed at equal disadvantage, and
cannot enter her own house until he has left it. This rule, however, is
seldom kept in all its strictness, and indeed such literal obedience
is hardly possible, because the eldest son very seldom leaves his
father’s kraal until he has married at least two wives. In consequence
of the great practical inconvenience of this rule, the Kaffirs have
contrived to evade it, although they have not openly abandoned it. The
father-in-law presents an ox to his son’s wife, and in consideration of
this liberality, she frees him from the obligation of this peculiar and
troublesome courtesy. The native name for this custom is “uku-hlonipa.”
From what has been said, it is evident that women hold a very inferior
position among the Kaffirs, and are looked upon quite as if they were
cattle; liable, like cattle, to be bought and sold. A Kaffir never
dreams that he and his wife are on terms of the least equality, or
that he does not deserve praise at her hand for his condescension in
marrying her at all. A man will scarcely condescend to notice the women
of his own household. If they go out on their several labors, they go
their several ways. Supposing, for example, that a man were to cut
sticks for firing, or poles for the support of a new house; his wives,
in going to the same spot, would be careful to choose a different
path. When he has cut the wood he walks off, leaving his wives to
perform the really heavy labor of bringing it home, and no man would
ever think of assisting a woman in so menial a labor.
There are now before me several photographs representing women carrying
bundles of sticks, and it is wonderful what huge burdens these hard
worked women will carry. A man will not even lift the wood upon the
head of his wife, but expects that one of her own sex will assist her.
Sometimes, when a number of women are returning from wood cutting,
walking in single file, as is their custom, a “boy” will take the head
of the procession. But he will not degrade himself by carrying so much
as a stick, and bears nothing but his weapons, and perhaps a small
shield.
The unceremonious manner in which these hard worked women are treated
is little less singular than the cheerful acquiescence with which
they obey the commands of their sable masters. Once, when Captain
Gardiner was visiting Dingan, he was roused long before daybreak by the
vociferation of a man who was running through the kraal, and shouting
some command in a most peremptory tone. It turned out that Dingan had
suddenly taken into his head to build a new kraal, and had ordered all
the women into the bush to procure reeds and branches for building
purposes. In a few minutes a vast number of female voices were heard
uniting in a pleasing melody, which became louder and louder as the
numbers of the singers increased on their mustering ground, and then
gradually died away in the distance as they moved to the scene of their
labors. The bush to which they were sent was ten miles from the kraal,
but they went off quite cheerfully, and in the afternoon, when they
returned, each bearing a huge bundle of bushes on her head, they were
singing the same song, though they had walked so long a distance and so
heavily laden. The song does not seem to have possessed much variety,
as it chiefly consisted of one line, “Akoosiniki, ingonyama izezewi,”
and a chorus of “Haw! haw! haw!” It was probably intended for the same
purpose as the tunes played by regimental bands; namely, to enable the
party to keep step with each other.
Dingan was so tenacious of the superiority of his own sex that he would
never allow his wives to stand in his presence, but made them shuffle
about from place to place on their knees.
In consequence of their different habits of life, the men and women
hardly seem to belong to the same race. The men, as a rule, are
exceptionally fine specimens of humanity; and, despite their high
cheek-bones, woolly hair, and thick lips, might serve as models for a
sculptor. Their stature is tall, their forms are elastic and muscular,
and their step is free and noble, as becomes the gait of warriors. In
all these respects they are certainly not inferior to Europeans, and
in many are decidedly superior. The women, however, are rather stunted
than otherwise: their figures are bowed by reason of the heavy weights
which they have to carry, and they rapidly lose that wonderful symmetry
of form which distinguished them while still in the bloom of youth. The
men preserve their grandeur of demeanor and their bold, intelligent
aspect, even until their hair is gray from age, while the elderly
Kaffir woman is at best awkward and unsightly, and the old woman
irresistibly reminds the observer of an aged and withered monkey.
Exceptions to the general rule are sometimes found. A chief or wealthy
man, for example, would take a pride in freeing his daughters and chief
wife from the exceptionally hard labor which falls to the lot of the
sex in Kaffirland. In the case of the daughters, he is moved quite as
much by self-interest as by parental affection. A girl fetches a price
commensurate with her appearance, and the very best price is always
to be obtained for the best article. The daughter of a poor man, or
dependant, is obliged to work hard and live hard; and the natural
consequence is, that she has scarcely any real youth, and that her
form is spoiled by the heavy labors which are imposed upon her at an
age when all the bodily powers ought to be employed in adding to the
physical energy of her frame. Therefore, when such a girl is old enough
to be married, she is thin, careworn, and coarse, and no one will give
very much for her. Indeed, if she should be married, she is perfectly
aware that her real post in the kraal of her husband is little more
than that of a purchased drudge.
The daughter of a wealthy man, on the contrary, undertakes but little
of the really hard work which falls to the lot of her sex; and as she
is not only allowed, but encouraged, to eat the most fattening food
with as much despatch as possible, it naturally follows that, when
compared with the ordinary drudge of every-day life, she is by far the
more prepossessing, and her father is sure to obtain a very much higher
price for her than would have been the case if she had been forced to
do hard labor. Thus the three great requisites of a Kaffir girl are,
that she should be fat, strong, and have a tolerably good-looking face.
This last qualification is, however, subordinate to the other two. That
she is fat, shows that she has not been prematurely worn out by hard
work; and that she is strong, gives promise that she will be able to do
plenty of work after her marriage, and that the purchaser will not have
reason to think that he has wasted his money.
CHAPTER XI.
WAR--OFFENSIVE WEAPONS.
THE KAFFIR MILITARY SPIRIT, HOW GENERATED, AND HOW FOSTERED -- DREAD
OF THE UNKNOWN -- ARTILLERY -- ITS MORAL EFFECT ON THE KAFFIR --
NATIVE NAME FOR CANNON -- ORGANIZATION OF THE ARMY -- WEAPONS USED
BY THE ZULU TRIBES -- PRIMITIVE FORMATION OF THE SPEAR -- MATERIALS
USED FOR SPEAR-HEADS -- ZULU SPEARS, OR “ASSAGAIS” -- THE ZULU AS A
BLACKSMITH -- SHAPE OF THE ASSAGAI HEAD -- THE KAFFIR’S PREFERENCE
FOR SOFT STEEL -- THE KAFFIR KNIFE AND AXE -- RUST-RESISTING PROPERTY
-- THE KAFFIR FORGE AND BELLOWS -- SMELTING IRON -- A KAFFIR CHIEF
ASTONISHED -- LE VAILLANT INSTRUCTING THE NATIVES IN THE USE OF THE
FORGE -- WIRE-DRAWING AND WORKING IN BRASS -- HOW THE KAFFIR CASTS
AND MODELS BRASS -- DIFFICULTIES IN IRON WORKING -- HOW A KAFFIR
OBTAINS FIRE -- TEMPER OF ASSAGAI HEADS -- ASSAGAI SHAFTS -- CURIOUS
METHOD OF FASTENING THE HEAD TO THE SHAFT -- A REMARKABLE SPECIMEN
OF THE ASSAGAI -- HOW THE ASSAGAI IS THROWN -- A KAFFIR CHIEF’S
STRATAGEM, AND A CLASSICAL PARALLEL -- THE TWO KINDS OF ASSAGAI --
THE KNOB-KERRY, AND MODE OF USING IT.
If there is any one trait which distinguishes the true Kaffir race, it
is the innate genius for warfare. The Kaffir lives from his childhood
to his death in an atmosphere of war. Until he is old and wealthy, and
naturally desires to keep his possessions in tranquillity, a time of
peace is to him a time of trouble. He has no opportunity of working
off his superabundant energy; he has plenty of spears which he cannot
use against an enemy, and a shield which he can only employ in the
dance. He has no chance of distinguishing himself, and so gaining both
rank and wealth; and if he be a young bachelor, he cannot hope to be
promoted to the rank of “man,” and allowed to marry, for many a long
year. It is true, that in a time of war he may be killed; but that is
a reflection which does not in the least trouble a Kaffir. For all
he knows, he stands in just as great danger of his life in a time of
peace. He may unintentionally offend the king; he may commit a breach
of discipline which would be overlooked in war time; he may be accused
as a wizard, and tortured to death; he may accumulate a few cows, and
so excite the cupidity of the chief, who will fine him heavily for
something which either he did not do, or which was not of the slightest
importance.
Knowing, therefore, that a violent death is quite as likely to befall
him in peace as in war, and as in peace he has no chance of gratifying
his ambitious feelings, the young Kaffir is all for war. Indeed, had
it not been for the judicious councils of the old men, the English
Government would have had much more trouble with these tribes than
has been the case. Even under Panda’s rule, there have been great
dissensions among the army. All agreed in disliking the rule of the
English in the Natal district, because Natal formed a refuge for
thousands of Kaffirs, most of them belonging to the Zulu tribe, and
having fled from the tyranny of Panda; while others belonged to tribes
against which Panda had made war, and had fled for protection to the
English flag.
The younger warriors, fierce, arrogant, despising the white man because
they do not know him, have repeatedly begged to be allowed to invade
Natal. They urge, in pursuance of their request, that they will conquer
the country, restore to their king all the fugitives who have run
away from him, and inflame their own minds, and those of the young
and ignorant, by glowing descriptions of the rich spoil which would
fall to the conquerors, of the herds of cattle, the tons of beads, the
quantities of fire-arms and ammunition, and, in fact, the unlimited
supply of everything which a Kaffir’s heart can possibly desire. The
older men, however, who have more acquaintance with the white men, and
a tolerably good experience of the fact that when a white man fires his
gun he generally hits his mark, have always dissuaded their younger and
more impetuous comrades from so rash an attempt.
Strangely enough, the argument which has proved most powerful is really
a very weak one. The Kaffir, like other men, is brave enough when he
can comprehend his danger; but he does not at all like to face a peril
which he cannot understand. Like all unknown things, such a peril is
indeed terrible to a Kaffir’s mind, and this unknown peril is summed up
in the word cannon, or “By-and-by”--to use the native term. Why cannon
are so called will presently be mentioned. The Kaffirs have heard that
the dreadful By-and-by eats up everything--trees, houses, stones,
grass; and, as they justly argue, it is very likely to eat up Kaffir
soldiers. Of course, in defending a fort against Kaffirs, cannon,
loaded with grape and canister, would be of terrible efficacy, and they
would be justified in declining to assault any place that was defended
with such dreadful weapons. But they do not seem to be aware that guns
in a fort and guns in the bush are two very different things, and that,
if they could decoy the artillery into the bush, the dreaded weapons
would be of scarcely more use than if they were logs of wood. This
distinction the Kaffir never seems to have drawn, and the wholesome
dread of cannon has done very much to insure tranquillity among the
impetuous and self-confident soldiery of Kaffirland.
The odd name of “By-and-by” became attached to the cannon in the
following manner:--When the natives first saw some pieces of artillery
in the Natal district, they asked what such strange objects could be,
and were answered that they would learn “by-and-by.” Further questions,
added to the firing of a few shots, gave them such a terror of the
“By-and-by,” that they have never liked to match themselves against
such weapons.
The Zulu tribes are remarkable for being the only people in that part
of Africa who have practised war in an European sense of the word.
The other tribes are very good at bush-fighting, and are exceedingly
crafty at taking an enemy unawares, and coming on him before he is
prepared for them. Guerilla warfare is, in fact, their only mode of
waging battle, and, as is necessarily the case in such warfare, more
depends on the exertion of individual combatants than on the scientific
combination of masses. But the Zulu tribe have, since the time of
Tchaka, the great inventor of military tactics, carried on war in a
manner approaching the notions of civilization.
Their men are organized into regiments, each subdivided into companies,
and each commanded by its own chief, or colonel, while the king, as
commanding general, leads his forces to war, disposes them in battle
array, and personally directs their movements. They give an enemy
notice that they are about to march against him, and boldly meet him in
the open field. There is a military etiquette about them which some of
our own people have been slow to understand. They once sent a message
to the English commander that they would “come and breakfast with him.”
He thought it was only a joke, and was very much surprised when the
Kaffirs, true to their promise, came pouring like a torrent over the
hills, leaving him barely time to get his men under arms before the
dark enemies arrived.
As, in Kaffir warfare, much stress is laid upon the weapons, offensive
and defensive, with which the troops are armed, it will be necessary
to give a description of their weapons before we proceed any further.
They are but few and simple, and consist of certain spears, called
“assagais,” short clubs, called “kerries,” and shields made of the
hides of oxen.
Almost every nation has its distinguishing weapons, or, at all events,
one weapon which is held in greater estimation than any other, and
which is never used so skilfully as by itself. The Australian savage
has the boomerang, a weapon which cannot be used rightly except by
an Australian. Many Europeans can throw it so as to make it perform
some trifling evolution in the air, but there are none who can really
use it as an efficient weapon or instrument of hunting. The Dyak has
his sumpitan, and the Macoushie Indian his analogous weapon, the
zarabatana, through which are blown the tiny poisoned arrows, a hundred
of which can be held in the hand, and each one of which has death upon
its point. The Ghoorka has his kookery, the heavy curved knife, with
which he will kill a tiger in fair fight, and boldly attack civilized
soldiers in spite of their more elaborate arms. Then the Sikh has
the strange quoit weapon, or chakra, which skims through the air or
ricochets from the ground, and does frightful execution on the foe. The
Esquimaux have their harpoons, which will serve either for catching
seals or assaulting the enemy. The Polynesians have their terrible
swords and gauntlets armed with the teeth of sharks, each of which cuts
like a lancet, and inflicts a wound which, though not dangerous by
itself, becomes so when multiplied by the score and inflicted on the
most sensitive part of the body.
Some of these weapons are peculiar in shape, and are not used in other
countries, whereas some are modifications of implements of warfare
spread over a great part of the globe, and altered in shape and size
to suit the locality. Of such a nature is the special weapon of the
Kaffirs inhabiting the Natal district, the slight-looking but most
formidable spear or assagai. The spear is one of the simplest of all
weapons, the simplest of all excepting the club. In its primitive state
the spear is nothing but a stick of greater or lesser length, sharpened
at one end. The best example of this primitive spear may be found in
Borneo, where the weapon is made in a few minutes by taking a piece
of bamboo of convenient length, and cutting off one end diagonally.
The next improvement in spear making was to put the pointed end in the
fire for a few moments. This process enabled the spear maker to scrape
the point more easily, while the charred wood was rendered hard, and
capable of resisting damp better than if it had been simply scraped to
a point. Spears of this kind are to be found in almost every primitive
savage tribe.
A further improvement now takes place. The point is armed with some
material harder than wood, which material may be bone, horn, stone,
metal, or other similar substance. Some nations arm the heads of their
spears with sharp flakes of flint or obsidian. Some tip them with the
end of a sharp horn, or even with the claws of a mammal or a bird--the
kangaroo, emu, and cassowary being used for this singular purpose.
In many parts of the earth, the favorite spears are armed with the
teeth of sharks, while others are headed with the tail spine of the
sting-ray, which not only penetrates deeply, but breaks into the wound,
and always causes death. These additions to the spears, together with
others formed of certain marine shells, are necessarily the productions
of tribes that inhabit certain islands in the warmer seas. The last
and greatest improvement that is made in the manufacture of spears is
the abolition of all additions to the head, and making the head itself
of metal. For this purpose iron is generally used, partly because it
takes a sharp edge, and partly because it can be easily forged into
any required shape. The natives of Southern Africa are wonderful
proficients in forging iron, and indeed a decided capability for the
blacksmith’s art seems to be inherent in the natives of Africa, from
north to south and from east to west. None of the tribes can do very
much with the iron, but the little which they require is worked in
perfection. As is the case with all uncivilized beings, the whole
treasures of the art are lavished on their weapons; and so if we wish
to see what an African savage can do with iron, we must look at his
spears, knives, and arrows--the latter indeed being but spears in
miniature.
The heads of the Kaffir’s spears are extremely variable in form, some
being a mere spike, but the generality being blade shaped. Very few
are barbed, and the ordinary shape is that which is seen several times
in the illustration on page 103. Still, wherever the blade is adopted,
it has always one peculiarity of structure, whether it be plain or
barbed. A raised ridge passes along the centre, and the blade is convex
on one side of the ridge, and concave on the other. The reason of
this curious structure seems to be twofold. In the first place, it is
possible that this structure of the blade acts much as the feathers
of an arrow, or the spiral groove on the rifle balls invented by Dr.
Croft, and which can be used in smooth bore barrels. Colonel Lane Fox
finds that if a thread be tied to the point of an assagai, and the
weapon be thrown with great care, so that no revolving force is given
by the thrower, the thread is found spirally twisted round the head
and shaft by the time that the weapon has touched the ground. That
certainly seems to be one reason for the form. Another reason is, that
a blade thus shaped can be sharpened very easily, when it becomes
blunt. Nothing is needed but to take a flint, or even the back of a
common knife, and scrape it along the edge, and, if properly done, a
single such scrape will sharpen the weapon afresh. The head is always
made of soft iron, and so yields easily to the sharpening process. The
reader may remember that the harpoons which we use for whale hunting
are always made of the softest iron; were they made of steel, the first
furious tug of the whale might snap them, while, if they were to become
blunt, they could not be sharpened without much trouble and hard work
at the grindstone.
Setting aside the two questions of rotatory motion and convenience of
sharpening, it is possible that the peculiar structure of the blade
may be owing to the fact that such a structure would produce the
greatest amount of strength with the least amount of material. The
sword bayonet of the Chassepot rifle is made on a similar principle.
Whether the Kaffir is aware of this principle and forges his spear head
in accordance with it, is another point. The reader, better informed
than the Kaffir, may perhaps remember that the identical principle
is carried out in the “corrugated” iron, now in such general use for
buildings, roofs, and similar purposes.
Kaffirs have a great fondness for implements made of soft iron, and
prefer a knife made of that material to the best blade that Sheffield
can produce. They admit that for some purposes the steel blade is
superior to their own, but that for ordinary work nothing can compare
with the soft iron. The steel blade breaks, and is useless, while the
soft iron only bends. Moreover, when they want to scoop out a hollow
in a piece of wood, such as the bowl of a spoon, the inflexible steel
blade would be nearly useless. But a Kaffir simply takes his soft
iron knife, bends it to the requisite curve, and thus can make, at a
moment’s notice, a gouge with any degree of curvature. When he has
finished his work, he puts the blade on a flat stone, and beats it
straight again in a few seconds. The Kaffir knife is not at all like
our own, but is shaped just like the head of an assagai. In using
it, he grasps the handle just as artists represent assassins holding
daggers, and not as we hold knives. He always cuts away from himself,
as is shown on page 73, No. 1; and, clumsy as this mode of using a
knife may appear, Englishmen have often learned to appreciate it, and
to employ it in preference to the ordinary European fashion.
Unfit as would be the tools made by a Kaffir when employed in Europe,
those made in Europe and used in Southern Africa are still less useful.
Being unacquainted with this fact, both travellers and settlers are
apt to spend much money in England upon articles which they afterward
find to be without the least value--articles which an experienced
settler would not take as a gift. As a familiar example of the
difference between the tools required in various countries, the axe
may be mentioned. It is well known that, of all the varieties of this
tool, the American axe is the best, as it has attained its present
superiority by dint of long experience on part of the makers among the
vast forests of their country. Emigrants, therefore, almost invariably
supply themselves with a few American axes, and in most cases they
could not do better. But in Southern Africa this excellent tool is as
useless as would be a razor in chipping stones. The peculiar wood of
the mimosa, a tree which is used so universally in Southern Africa, is
sure to notch the edge of the axe, and in a short time to render it
incapable of doing its work; whereas the South African axe, which would
be a clumsy and slow working tool in America, can cut down the hardest
mimosa without suffering any injury.
There is another reason why a Kaffir prefers his own iron work to that
of European make. His own manufacture has the property of resisting
damp without rusting. If an European knife or steel tool of the finest
quality be left in the open air all night, and by the side of it a
Kaffir’s assagai, the former will be covered with rust, while the
latter is as bright as ever. Such is the case with those assagais which
are brought to England. It is possible that this freedom from rust
may be obtained by a process similar to that which is employed in the
manufacture of geological hammers, namely, that while the metal is hot,
it is plunged into oil, and then hammered. The excellence of the blade
is partially owing to the fact that the fire in which the metal is
smelted, and afterward heated for the forge, is made of charcoal, so as
to convert the iron into a kind of steel. The celebrated “wootz” steel
of India is made by placing the iron in small crucibles together with
little twigs of certain trees, and then submitting the crucible to a
very intense heat.
It is evident that, in order to produce such weapons, the Kaffir
must be a good blacksmith, and it is certain that, when we take into
consideration the kind of work which has to be done, he can hardly be
surpassed in his art. Certainly, if any English blacksmith were given a
quantity of iron ore, and only had the very primitive tools which the
Kaffir blacksmith employs, he would be entirely vanquished by his dusky
brother of the forge.
Among the Kaffirs, a blacksmith is a man of considerable importance,
and is much respected by the tribe. He will not profane the mystery
of his craft by allowing uninitiated eyes to inspect his various
processes, and therefore carries on his operations at some distance
from the kraal. His first care is to prepare the bellows. The form
which he uses prevails over a very large portion of Africa, and is
seen, with some few modifications, even among the many islands of
Polynesia. It consists of two leathern sacks, at the upper end of which
is a handle. To the lower end of each sack is attached the hollow horns
of some animal, that of the cow or the eland being most commonly used;
and when the bags are alternately inflated and compressed, the air
passes out through the two horns. Of course the heat of the fire would
destroy the horns if they were allowed to come in contact with it, and
they are therefore inserted, not into the fire, but into an earthenware
tube, which communicates with the fire. The use of valves is unknown;
but as the two horns do not open into the fire, but into the tube, the
fire is not drawn into the bellows as would otherwise be the case. This
arrangement, however, causes considerable waste of air, so the bellows
blower is obliged to work much harder than would be the case if he
were provided with an instrument that could conduct the blast directly
to its destination. The ancient Egyptians used a bellows of precisely
similar construction, except that they did not work them entirely by
hand. They stood with one foot on each sack, and blew the fire by
alternately pressing on them with the feet, and raising them by means
of a cord fastened to their upper ends.
When the blacksmith is about to set to work, he digs a hole in the
ground, in which the fire is placed, and then sinks the earthenware
tube in a sloping direction, so that the lower end opens at the bottom
of the hole, while the upper end projects above the level of the
ground. The two horns are next inserted into the upper end of the
earthenware tube, and the bellows are then fastened in their places,
so that the sacks are conveniently disposed for the hands of the
operator, who sits between them. A charcoal fire is then laid in the
hole, and is soon brought to a powerful heat by means of the bellows. A
larger stone serves the purpose of an anvil, and a smaller stone does
duty for a hammer. Sometimes the hammer is made of a conical piece of
iron, but in most cases a stone is considered sufficient. The rough
work of hammering the iron into shape is generally done by the chief
blacksmith’s assistants, of whom he has several, all of whom will pound
away at the iron in regular succession. The shaping and finishing the
article is reserved by the smith for himself. The other tools are few
and simple, and consist of punches and rude pincers made of two rods of
iron.
With these instruments the Kaffir smith can cast brass into various
ornaments. Sometimes he pours it into a cylindrical mould, so as to
make a bar from which bracelets and similar ornaments can be hammered,
and sometimes he makes studs and knobs by forming their shapes in clay
moulds.
In the illustration No. 2, on page 97, a native forge is seen in full
operation. The chief smith is at the left of the engraving, seated at
the bellows and blowing the fire, in which is placed an iron rod which
is going to be forged into an assagai head. The manner in which the
horn tubes of the bellows are fastened to the ground--a stick being
laid across each horn, and a heavy stone upon each stick--is well
shown. At the right hand of the smith is a basket containing charcoal,
and another is seen near the assistant. On the opposite side sits the
assistant or apprentice blacksmith, busily hammering with a conical
stone at the spear head which is being forged, and at his side lie one
or two finished heads. Behind them, another smith is hard at work with
a huge stone with which he is crushing the ore. On the right hand of
the illustration is seen the reed fence which is erected in order to
keep off the wind, and in the middle distance is the kraal to which
the smiths belong. The reed fence is supported by being lashed to a
mimosa. Some jars of beer stand within the shadow of the fence for the
occasional refreshment of the blacksmiths.
How the blacksmith contrives to work without burning his right hand
is rather unintelligible. I have handled the conical hammer, and find
that the hand is brought so close to the iron that, when it is heated
to a glowing redness, the effect upon the fingers must be singularly
unpleasant, not to mention the sparks that fly about so liberally
when heated iron is struck. Sometimes, when a native is making small
objects, he takes a tolerably large hammer, reverses it, and drives
the small end deeply into the ground. The face of the hammer is then
uppermost, and answers as an anvil, on which he works with a hammer of
smaller size.
Although the bellows which a Kaffir makes are sufficiently powerful
to enable him to melt brass, and to forge iron into various shapes,
they do not seem to give a sufficiently strong and continuous blast
to enable him to weld iron together. Mr. Moffatt mentions a curious
anecdote, which illustrates this point. He was visiting Moselekatse,
the king of the northern division of the Zulu tribes, and very much
frightened the savage monarch by the sight of the wagon, the wheels of
which seemed to his ignorant mind to be endowed with motion by some
magic power. His greatest wonder was, however, excited by the tire of
the wheel, as he could not comprehend how such a piece of iron could
be made without the junction of the ends being visible. A native who
had accompanied Mr. Moffatt explained to the king how the mystery was
solved. He took the missionary’s right hand in his own, held it up
before the king, and said, “My eyes saw that very hand cut those bars
of iron, take a piece off one end, and then join them as you see now.”
After a careful inspection, the spot where the iron had been welded was
pointed out. The king then wanted to know whether medicine were given
to the iron in order to endow it with such wonderful powers, but was
told that nothing was used except fire, a chisel, and a hammer. Yet
Moselekatse was king of the essentially warlike Zulus, a nation which
possessed plenty of blacksmiths who were well versed in their art, and
could forge the leaf shaped blades of the assagais with such skill
that the best European smiths could not produce weapons more perfectly
suited for the object which they were intended to fulfil.
Le Vaillant narrates an amusing instance of the astonishment caused to
some Kaffir blacksmiths by a rude kind of bellows which he made after
the European fashion. After paying a just tribute of admiration to the
admirable work produced by the dusky blacksmiths in spite of their
extremely rude and imperfect tools, he proceeds to describe the form
of bellows that they used, which is just that which has been already
mentioned.
“I had great difficulty in making them comprehend how much superior
the bellows of our forges in Europe were to their invention; and being
persuaded that the little they might catch of my explanation would
soon escape from their memories, and would consequently be of no real
advantage to them, I resolved to add example to precept, and to operate
myself in their presence.
[Illustration: (1.) BRIDEGROOM ON APPROVAL. (See page 79.)]
[Illustration: (2.) KAFFIR AT HIS FORGE. (See page 96.)]
“Having despatched one of my people to our camp with orders to bring
the bottoms of two boxes, a piece of a summer kaross, a hoop, a few
small nails, a hammer, a saw, and other small tools that I might have
occasion for, as soon as he returned I formed in great haste, and in a
very rude manner, a pair of bellows, which were not more powerful than
those generally used in our kitchens. Two pieces of hoop which I placed
in the inside served to keep the skin always at an equal distance; and
I did not forget to make a hole in the inferior part, to give a readier
admittance to the air--a simple method of which they had no conception,
and for want of which they were obliged to waste a great deal of time
in filling the sheepskin.
“I had no iron pipe, but, as I only meant to make a model, I fixed to
the extremity of mine a toothpick case, after sawing off one of its
ends. I then placed my instrument on the ground near the fire, and,
having fixed a forked stick in the ground, I laid across it a kind
of lever, which was fastened to a bit of packthread proceeding from
the bellows, and to which was fixed a piece of lead weighing seven or
eight pounds. To form a just idea of the surprise of these Kaffirs on
this occasion, one must have seen with what attention they beheld all
my operations; the uncertainty in which they were, and their anxiety
to discover what would be the event. They could not resist their
exclamations when they saw me, by a few easy motions and with one hand,
give their fire the greatest activity by the velocity with which I made
my machine draw in and again force out the air. Putting some pieces of
iron into their fire, I made them red hot in a few minutes, which they
undoubtedly could not have done in half an hour.
“This specimen of my skill raised their astonishment to the highest
pitch. I may venture to say that they were almost convulsed and thrown
into a delirium. They danced and capered round the bellows; each tried
them in turn, and they clapped their hands the better to testify their
joy. They begged me to make them a present of this wonderful machine,
and seemed to await for my answer with impatience, not imagining, as I
judged, that I would readily give up so valuable a piece of furniture.
It would afford me great pleasure to hear, at some future period,
that they have brought them to perfection, and that, above all, they
preserve a remembrance of that stranger who first supplied them with
the most essential instrument in metallurgy.”
As far as can be judged by the present state of the blacksmith’s art in
Kaffirland, the natives have not derived the profit from Le Vaillant’s
instructions which he so ingenuously predicted. In all probability, the
bellows in question would be confiscated by the chief of the tribe, who
would destroy their working powers in endeavoring to make out their
action. Moreover, the Kaffir is eminently conservative in his notions,
and he would rather prefer the old sheepskin, which only required to be
tied at the legs and neck with thongs, to the comparatively elaborate
instrument of the white traveller, which needed the use of wooden
hoops, nails, saw, hammer, and the other tools of the civilized workman.
The Kaffir smiths have long known the art of wire drawing, though
their plates are very rude, the metal comparatively soft, and the
wire in consequence irregularly drawn. Moreover, they cannot make
wire of iron, but are obliged to content themselves with the softer
metals, such as brass and copper. Mr. Moffat, the African missionary,
relates an amusing anecdote of an interview with a native metal
worker. As a missionary ought to do, he had a practical knowledge of
the blacksmith’s art, and so became on friendly terms with his dark
brother of the forge; and after winning his heart by making him a new
wire drawing plate, made of steel, and pierced for wires of twenty
variations in thickness, induced him to exhibit the whole of his mystic
process.
His first proceeding was to prepare four moulds, very simply made by
building a little heap of dry sand, and pushing into it a little stick
about a quarter of an inch in diameter. He then built and lighted a
charcoal fire, such as has already been described, and he next placed
in a kind of rude clay crucible some copper and a little tin. A
vigorous manipulation of the bellows fused the copper and tin together,
and he then took out the crucible with a rude kind of tongs made of
bark, and poured the contents into the holes, thus making a number of
short brass rods about a quarter of an inch in diameter and three or
four inches in length. These rods were next removed from the moulds and
hammered with a stone until they were reduced to half their diameter.
During this operation, the rods were frequently heated in the flame of
burning grass.
Next came the important operation of drawing the rods through the
holes, so as to convert them into wire. The end of a rod was sharpened
and forced through the largest hole, a split stick being used by way
of pincers, and the rod continually greased. By repeating this process
the wire is passed through holes that become regularly smaller in
diameter, until at last it is scarcely thicker than sewing thread. The
wire plate is about half an inch in thickness. The brass thus made is
not equal in color to that in which zinc is used instead of tin, but
as it is capable of taking a high polish, the native cares for nothing
more. The reader may perhaps remember that Mr. Williams, the well-known
missionary, established his reputation among the savages to whom he was
sent by making an extemporized set of bellows out of boxes and boards,
the rats always eating every scrap of leather that was exposed.
The knowledge of forge work which Mr. Moffatt possessed was gained
by him under very adverse circumstances. A broken-down wagon had to
be mended, and there was no alternative but to turn blacksmith and
mend the wagon, or to abandon the expedition. Finding that the chief
drawback to the powers of the forge was the inefficient construction
of the native bellows, he set to work, and contrived to make a pair of
bellows very similar to those of which Le Vaillant gave so glowing a
description. And, if any proof were needed that the French traveller’s
aspirations had not been realized, it may be found in the fact that the
rude bellows made by the English missionary were as much a matter of
astonishment to the natives as those which had been made by Le Vaillant
some sixty years before.
Much of the iron used in Southern Africa seems to be of meteoric
origin, and is found in several localities in a wonderfully pure state,
so that very little labor is needed in order to make it fit for the
forge.
The Kaffir blacksmith never need trouble himself about the means of
obtaining a fire. Should he set up his forge in the vicinity of a
kraal, the simplest plan is to send his assistant for a firebrand from
one of the huts. But, if he should prefer, as is often the case, to
work at some distance from the huts, he can procure fire with perfect
certainty, though not without some labor.
He first procures two sticks, one of them taken from a soft wood tree,
and the other from an acacia, or some other tree that furnishes a hard
wood. Of course both the sticks must be thoroughly dry, a condition
about which there is little difficulty in so hot a climate. His next
care is to shape one end of the hard stick into a point, and to bore a
small hole in the middle of the soft stick. He now squats down, places
the pointed tip of the hard stick in the hole of the soft stick, and,
taking the former between his hands, twirls it backward and forward
with extreme rapidity. As he goes on, the hole becomes enlarged, and
a small quantity of very fine dust falls into it, being rubbed away
by the friction. Presently, the dust is seen to darken in color, then
to become nearly black; and presently a very slight smoke is seen to
rise. The Kaffir now redoubles his efforts; he aids the effect of the
revolving stick by his breath, and in a few more seconds the dust
bursts into a flame. The exertion required in this operation is very
severe, and by the time that the fire manifests itself the producer is
bathed in perspiration.
Usually, two men, at least, take part in fire making, and, by dividing
the labor, very much shorten the process. It is evident that, if the
perpendicular stick be thus worked, the hands must gradually slide
down it until they reach the point. The solitary Kaffir would then be
obliged to stop the stick, shift his hands to the top, and begin again,
thus losing much valuable time. But when two Kaffirs unite in fire
making, one sits opposite the other, and as soon as he sees that his
comrade’s hands have nearly worked themselves down to the bottom of the
stick, he places his own hands on the top, continues the movement, and
relieves his friend. Thus, the movement of the stick is never checked
for a moment, and the operation is consequently hastened. Moreover,
considerable assistance is given by the second Kaffir keeping the dust
properly arranged round the point of the stick, and by taking the part
of the bellows, so as to allow his comrade to expend all his strength
in twirling the stick.
I have now before me one of the soft sticks in which fire has been
made. There is a hole very much resembling in shape and size the
depressions in a solitaire board, except that its sides are black
and deeply charred by the fire, and in places highly polished by
the friction. Some of my readers may perhaps remember that English
blacksmiths are equally independent of lucifer matches, flint and
steel, and other recognized modes of fire raising. They place a small
piece of soft iron on the anvil, together with some charcoal dust, and
hammer it furiously. The result is that enough heat is evolved to light
the charcoal, and so to enable the blacksmith to set to work.
We will now see how the native makes his assagai.
With their simple tools the native smiths contrive to make their spear
heads of such an excellent temper that they take a very sharp edge; so
sharp, indeed, that the assagai is used, not only for cutting up meat
and similar offices, but for shaving the head. Also, it is so pliable,
that a good specimen can be bent nearly double and beaten straight
again, without being heated.
When the Kaffir smith has finished the head of the assagai, it looks
something like the blade of a table knife before it is inserted into
the handle, and has a straight projecting peg, by which it is fastened
into the wooden shaft. This peg, or tang as cutlers call it, is always
notched, so as to make it retain its hold the better.
Now comes the next process. The spear maker has already by him a
number of shafts. These are cut from a tree which is popularly called
“assagai-wood,” and on the average, are nearly live feet in length.
In diameter they are very small, seldom exceeding that of a man’s
little finger at the thick end, while the other end tapers to the
diameter of an ordinary black-lead pencil. The assagai-tree is called
scientifically _Curtisia Jaginea_, and is something like the mahogany.
The shaft of the assagai is seldom, if ever, sufficiently straight to
permit the weapon to be used at once. It is straightened by means of
heating it over the fire, and then scraping, beating, and bending it
until the maker is pleased with the result. Even after the weapon has
been made and in use, the shaft is very apt to warp, and in this case
the Kaffir always rapidly straightens the assagai before he throws it.
In spite of its brittle nature, it will endure a considerable amount
of bending, provided that the curve be not too sharp, and that the
operator does not jerk the shaft as he bends it. Indeed, if it were
not for the elasticity of the shaft, the native would not be able to
produce the peculiar quivering or vibrating movement, to which the
weapon owes so much of its efficiency.
By means of heating the “tang” of the head red hot, a hole is bored
into the thick end of the shaft, and the tang passed into it. Were it
left without further work, the spear would be incomplete, for the head
would fall away from the shaft whenever the point was held downward.
In order to fasten it in its place, the Kaffir always makes use of one
material, namely, raw hide. He cuts a narrow strip of hide, sometimes
retaining the hair, and binds it while still wet upon the spear. As
it dries, the hide contracts, and forms a band nearly as strong as
if made of iron. There is no particular art displayed in tying this
band; we never see in that portion of an assagai the least trace of
the elaborate and elegant patterns used by the New Zealanders in the
manufacture of their weapons. The strip of hide is merely rolled
round the spear and the loose end tucked beneath a fold. Yet the
Kaffir is not without the power of producing such patterns, and will
commonly weave very elaborate and elegant ornaments, from the hair of
the elephant’s tail and similar materials. These ornamental lashings
are, however, always placed on the shaft of the weapon, and are never
employed in fastening the head of the assagai in its place.
In the illustration on page 103 is drawn a group of assagais, in order
to show the chief varieties of this weapon. The whole of them have been
drawn from specimens in my own possession. The word “assagai” is not a
Kaffir term, but, like the popular name of the tribe, like the words
kaross, kraal, &c., has been borrowed from another language. The Zulu
word for the assagai is _um-konto_, a word which has a curious though
accidental resemblance to the Latin _contus_.
The ordinary form or “throwing assagai” is shown at fig. 5. It is used
as a missile, and not as a dagger. In some cases the throwing assagai
is shaped in a more simple manner, the head being nothing but a
sharpened spike of iron, without any pretensions of being formed into
a blade. This weapon is five feet seven inches in total length, and
the blade measures a foot in length from its junction with the shaft.
Sometimes the blade is much longer and wider, as seen at fig. 4, which
represents the ordinary “stabbing assagai.” This weapon can be used as
a missile, but is very seldom employed except as a manual weapon. Its
long, straight blade is much used in the more peaceful vocations of
daily life, and a Kaffir in time of peace seldom uses it for any worse
purpose than slaughtering cattle, and cutting them up afterward. This
is the assagai that is usually employed as a knife, and with which the
ingenious native contrives to shave his head.
At fig. 7 is shown a very remarkable specimen of the barbed assagai.
Intending to produce an extremely elegant weapon, the artificer has
lavished much pains on his work. In the first place, he has forged
a deeply barbed head, a form which is but rarely seen. He has then
fastened it to the shaft in a rather singular way. Instead of cutting
a strip of raw hide and binding it round the weapon, he has taken the
tail of a calf, cut off a piece about four inches in length, drawn
the skin from it so as to form a tube, and slipped this tube over the
spear. As is the case with the hide lashing, the tube contracts as it
dries, and forms a singularly effective mode of attaching the head to
the shaft. The hair has been retained, and, in the maker’s opinion, a
very handsome weapon has been produced.
The assagai, in its original form, is essentially a missile, and is
made expressly for that purpose, although it serves several others.
And, insignificant as it looks when compared with the larger and more
elaborate spears of other nations, there is no spear or lancet that can
surpass it in efficacy.
The Kaffir, when going on a warlike or hunting expedition, or even when
travelling to any distance, takes with him a bundle, or “sheaf,” of
assagais, at least five in number, and sometimes eight or nine. When
he assails an enemy, he rushes forward, springing from side to side in
order to disconcert the aim of his adversary, and hurling spear after
spear with such rapidity that two or three are in the air at once,
each having been thrown from a different direction. There is little
difficulty in avoiding a single spear when thrown from the front; but
when the point of one is close to the heart, and another is coming to
the right side, and the enemy is just hurling another on the left, it
is a matter of no small difficulty to escape one or other of them. If
the assailed individual stands still, he is sure to be hit, for the
Kaffir’s aim is absolute certainty; while if he tries to escape a spear
coming from the left, he will probably be hit by another coming from
the right.
Moreover, the mode in which the weapon is thrown serves to disconcert
the enemy, and bewilder his gaze. Just before he throws the spear, the
Kaffir makes it quiver in a very peculiar manner. He grasps it with
the thumb and forefinger of the right hand, holding it just above the
spot where it balances itself, and with the head pointing up his arm.
The other fingers are laid along the shaft, and are suddenly and firmly
closed, so as to bring the balance spot of the spear against the root
of the hand. This movement causes the spear to vibrate strongly and
is rapidly repeated, until the weapon gives out a peculiar humming or
shivering noise, impossible to be described, and equally impossible
to be forgotten when once heard. It is as menacing a sound as the
whirr of the rattlesnake, and is used by the Kaffirs when they wish
to strike terror into their opponents. When thrown, the assagai does
not lose this vibrating movement, but seems even to vibrate stronger
than before, the head describing a large arc of a circle, of which
the balance point forms the centre. This vibration puzzles the eye of
the adversary, because it is almost impossible to tell the precise
direction which the weapon is taking. Any one can calculate the flight
of a rigid missile, such as a thick spear or arrow, but when the weapon
is vibrating the eye is greatly bewildered.
The whole look of an assagai in the air is very remarkable, and has
never been properly represented. All illustrations have represented it
as quite straight and stiff in its flight, whereas it looks just like
a very slender serpent undulating itself gracefully through the air.
It seems instinct with life, and appears rather to be seeking its own
course than to be a simple weapon thrown by the hand of a man. As it
flies along it continually gives out the peculiar shivering sound which
has been mentioned, and this adds to the delusion of its aspect.
An illustration on page 111 represents a group of Kaffir warriors
engaged in a skirmish. In the present instance they are exhibiting
their prowess in a mock fight, the heads of the assagais being of wood
instead of iron, and blunted, but still hard and sharp enough to give
a very severe blow--_experto crede_. In the background are seen a
number of soldiers standing behind their shields so as to exemplify the
aptness of their title, the Matabele, or Disappearers. In the immediate
foreground is a soldier in the full uniform of his regiment. He has
just hurled one assagai, and, as may be seen by the manner in which
his dress is flying, has leaped to his present position with another
assagai ready in his hand. Two soldiers are plucking out of the ground
the assagais thrown by their antagonists, covering themselves with
their shields while so doing. All these soldiers belong to the same
regiment, as may be seen by the headdress, which constitutes their
distinctive uniform.
The skill displayed by the Kaffirs in the use of this weapon is really
surprising. The rapidity with which the assagais are snatched from the
sheaf, poised, quivered, and hurled is almost incredible. We are told
that the great mastery of the old English archers over the powerful
bows which they used, was not so much owing to the personal strength of
the archer, as to the manner in which he was taught to “lay his body
in his bow,” and thus to manage with ease a weapon that much stronger
men could not draw. In a similar manner, the skill of the Kaffir in
hurling the assagai is attributable not to his bodily strength, but to
the constant habit of using the weapon. As soon as a boy can fairly
walk alone, he plays at spear throwing--throwing with sticks; and as he
grows up, his father makes sham assagais for him, with wooden instead
of iron heads. Two of these mock weapons are shown at fig. 8 in the
illustration on p. 103. They exactly resemble the ordinary assagai,
except that their heads are of wood; and if one of them happened to hit
a man, it would inflict rather an unpleasant wound.
When the Kaffir grasps his assagai, he and the weapon seem to become
one being, the quivering spear seeming instinct with life imparted
to it by its wielder. In hurling it, he assumes intuitively the most
graceful of attitudes, reminding the observer of some of the ancient
statues, and the weapon is thrown with such seeming ease that, as a
sojourner among them told me, “the man looks as if he were made of
oil.” As he hurls the weapon, he presses on his foe, trying to drive
him back, and at the same time to recover the spent missiles.
Sometimes, when he has not space to raise his arm, or when he wants
to take his foe by surprise, he throws the assagai with a kind of
underhand jerk, his arm hanging at full length. An assagai thus
delivered cannot be thrown so far as by the ordinary method, but it
can be propelled with considerable force, and frequently achieves the
object for which it was intended. He never throws the last of the
sheaf, but if he cannot succeed in picking up those that are already
thrown, either by himself or his enemy, he dashes forward, and, as he
closes with the foe, snaps the shaft of the assagai in the middle,
throws away the tip, and uses the remaining portion as a dagger.
[Illustration: SPOONS FOR EATING PORRIDGE. (See page 148.)]
[Illustration: SPOONS FOR EATING PORRIDGE. (See page 148.)]
[Illustration: GROUP OF ASSAGAIS. (See pages 104, 105.)]
The wood of which the shaft is made, though very elastic, is very
brittle, and a novice in the art is sure to break several of his spears
before he learns to throw them properly. Unless they are rightly
cast, as soon as the blade reaches the ground the shaft gives a kind
of “whip” forward, and snaps short just above the blade. One of the
great warrior chiefs made a singular use of this property. Just before
going into action, he made his men cut the shafts of their assagais
nearly across, just beyond the junction of the shaft and the head. The
consequence of this ingenious _ruse_ became evident enough when the
action commenced. If the weapon went true to its mark, it pierced the
body of the foe just as effectually as if nothing had been done to
it; while if it missed, and struck the ground or a shield, the shaft
instantly snapped, and the weapon was thereby rendered useless to the
foe.
Unknowingly, the barbaric chief copied the example that was set by
a Roman general nearly two thousand years ago. When Marius made war
against the Cimbri, his troops carried the short heavy javelin, called
the _pilum_. This weapon had a thick handle, to the end of which the
long blade was attached by two iron rivets, one in front of the other.
Before going to battle, he ordered the soldiers to remove the rivet
farthest from the point, and to supply its place with a slight wooden
peg, just strong enough to hold the head in its proper position as long
as no force was used. When the javelin was hurled, the enemy tried to
receive it on their shields; and if they succeeded in doing so, they
drew out the weapon and flung it back at the foe. But as soon as the
action began, the Cimbri found themselves in a sore strait. No sooner
had they caught the javelin in their shields, than the slight wooden
peg snapped, and allowed the shaft to dangle from the blade. Not only
was the weapon useless, but it became a serious incumbrance. It could
not be pulled out of the shield, as it afforded no grasp, and the heavy
shaft dragged on the ground so as to force the soldier to throw away
his shield, and to fight without it.
A very singular modification of the assagai was made by the terrible
Tchaka, a chief who lived but for war, and was a man of wonderful
intellect, dauntless courage, singular organizing power, and utterly
devoid of compassion. Retaining the assagai, he altered its shape, and
made it a much shorter and heavier weapon, unfit for throwing, and only
to be used in a hand-to-hand encounter. After arming his troops with
this modified weapon, he entirely altered the mode of warfare.
His soldiers were furnished with a very large shield and a single
assagai. When they went into action, they ran in a compact body on the
enemy, and as soon as the first shower of spears fell, they crouched
beneath their shields, allowed the weapons to expend their force, and
then sprang in for a hand-to-hand encounter. Their courage, naturally
great, was excited by promises of reward, and by the certainty that
not to conquer was to die. If a soldier was detected in running away,
he was instantly killed by the chief, and the same punishment awaited
any one who returned from battle without his spear and shield. Owing
to these tactics, he raised the tribe of the Amazulu to be the most
powerful in the country. He absorbed nearly sixty other tribes into his
own, and extended his dominions nearly half across the continent of
Africa.
He at last formed the bold conception of sweeping the whole South
African coast with his armies, and extirpating the white inhabitants.
But, while at the zenith of his power, he was treacherously killed by
two of his brothers, Dingan and Umlangane. The two murderers fought
for the kingdom on the following day, and Dingan ascended the throne
over the bodies of both his brothers. The sanguinary mode of government
which Tchaka had created was not likely to be ameliorated in such
hands, and the name of Dingan was dreaded nearly as much as that of his
brother. His successor and brother, Panda, continued to rule in the
same manner, though without possessing the extraordinary genius of the
mighty founder of his kingdom, and found himself obliged to form an
alliance with the English, instead of venturing to make war upon them.
Tchaka’s invention of the single stabbing assagai answered very well as
long as the Zulus only fought against other tribes of the same country.
But, when they came to encounter the Dutch Boers, it was found that the
stabbing assagai was almost useless against mounted enemies, and they
were obliged to return to the original form of the weapon.
If the reader will refer to the illustration which has already been
mentioned, he will see two specimens of the short stabbing assagai with
the large blade. A fine example of this weapon is seen at fig. 1. The
reader will see that the blade is extremely wide and leaf shaped, and
that the other end, or but of the spear, is decorated with a tuft of
hairs taken from the tail of a cow. Another example is seen at fig. 3.
The maker has bestowed great pains on this particular weapon. Just at
the part where the spear balances, a piece of soft leather is formed
into a sort of handle, and is finished off at either end with a ring
made of the wire-like hair of the elephant’s tail. Several wide rings
of the same material decorate the shaft of the weapon, and all of them
are like the well-known “Turk’s-head” knot of the sailors. Fig. 6 shows
another assagai, which has once had a barbed blade like that at fig.
7, but which has been so repeatedly ground that the original shape is
scarcely perceptible. The spear which is drawn at fig. 13 is one of
the ornamental wooden weapons which a Kaffir will use when etiquette
forbids him to carry a real assagai. This particular spear is cut from
one piece of wood, and is decorated according to Kaffir notions of
beauty, by contrasts of black and white gained by charring the wood.
The ornamental work on the shaft is thus blackened, and so is one
side of the broad wooden blade. The spear shown at fig. 9 is used in
elephant hunting, and will be described in a future chapter.
To a Kaffir the assagai is a necessary of life. He never stirs without
taking a weapon of some kind in his hand, and that weapon is generally
the assagai. With it he kills his game, with it he cuts up the carcass,
with it he strips off the hide, and with it he fashions the dresses
worn by the women as well as the men. The ease and rapidity with
which he performs these acts are really astonishing. When cutting up
slaughtered cattle, he displays as much knowledge of the various cuts
as the most experienced butcher, and certainly no butcher could operate
more rapidly with his knife, saw, and cleaver, than does the Kaffir
with his simple assagai. For every purpose wherein an European uses a
knife, the Kaffir uses his assagai. With it he cuts the shafts for his
weapons, and with its sharp blade he carves the wooden clubs, spoons,
dishes, and pillows, and the various utensils required in his daily
life.
When hurling his assagai, whether at an animal which he is hunting
or at a foe, or even when exhibiting his skill to a spectator, the
Kaffir becomes strongly excited, and seems almost beside himself. The
sweetest sound that can greet a Kaffir’s ears is the sound of his
weapon entering the object at which it was aimed, and in order to enjoy
this strange gratification, he will stab a slain animal over and over
again, forgetful in the excitement of the moment that every needless
stab injures the hide which might be so useful to him. When the chief
summons his army, and the warriors go through their extraordinary
performances in his presence, they never fail to expatiate on the
gratification which they shall derive from hearing their assagais
strike into the bodies of their opponents.
It is rather a curious fact that the true Kaffir never uses the bow
and arrow. Though nearly surrounded by tribes which use this weapon,
and though often suffering in skirmishes from the poisoned arrows
of the Bosjesmans, he rejects the bow in warfare, considering it
to be a weapon inconsistent with the dignity of a warrior. He has
but two weapons, the assagai and the club, and he wields the second
as skilfully as the first. The clubs used by the Kaffir tribes are
extremely variable in size, and rather so in form. Some of them are
more than six feet in length, while some are only fourteen or fifteen
inches. But they all agree in one point, namely, that they are
straight, or, at all events, are intended to be so; and that one end is
terminated by a knob. They are popularly known as “knob-kerries.”
In order to show the extreme difference of size that is found among
them, several specimens are figured in the illustration on page 103.
Three specimens are seen at fig. 10. That on the right hand is used
as a weapon, and is wielded in a very curious manner. Not only can
it be employed as a weapon with which an opponent can be struck, but
it is also used as a missile, sometimes being flung straight at the
antagonist, and sometimes thrown on the ground in such a manner that
its elasticity causes it to rebound and strike the enemy from below
instead of from above. The Australian savages possess clubs of a
similar shape, and also employ the _ricochet_. The other two kerries
are not meant as weapons.
It is contrary to etiquette for a Kaffir to carry an assagai when he
enters the hut of a superior, and he therefore exchanges the weapon for
the innocent kerrie. And it is also contrary to etiquette to use the
real assagai in dances. But, as in their dances the various operations
of warfare and hunting are imitated, it is necessary for the performers
to have something that will take the place of an assagai, and they
accordingly provide themselves with knob-kerries about the same length
as the weapons whose place they supply.
One very common form of the short knob-kerrie is shown at fig. 14. This
weapon is only twenty inches in length, and can be conveniently carried
in the belt. At close quarters it can be used as a club, but it is more
frequently employed as a missile.
The Kaffir is so trained from infancy to hurl his weapons that he
always prefers those which can be thrown. The force and precision with
which the natives will fling these short kerries is really astonishing.
If Europeans were to go after birds, and provide themselves with
knobbed sticks instead of guns, they would bring home but very little
game. Yet a Kaffir takes his knob-kerries as a matter of course, when
he goes after the bustard, the quail, or other birds, and seldom
returns without success.
The general plan is for two men to hunt in concert. They walk some
fifty yards apart, and when they come to any spot which seems a likely
place for game, they rest their kerries on their right shoulders, so
as to lose no time in drawing back the hand when they wish to fling
the weapon. As soon as a bird rises, they simultaneously hurl their
kerries at it, one always aiming a little above the bird, and the other
a little below. If, then, the bird catches sight of the upper club, and
dives down to avoid it, the lower club takes effect, while, if it rises
from the lower kerrie, it falls a victim to the upper. This plan is
wonderfully efficacious, as I have proved by personal experience. One
of my friends and myself determined to try whether we could kill game
in the Kaffir fashion. So we cut some knobbed sticks, and started off
in search of snipe. As soon as a snipe rose, we flung the stick at it,
and naturally missed, as it was quite beyond the range of any missile
propelled by hand. However, marking the spot where it alighted, we
started it afresh, and by repeating this process, we got sufficiently
near to bring it within the compass of our powers, and succeeded in
knocking it down.
Generally the short, thick, heavily knobbed kerrie belongs rather to
the Hottentot and the Bosjesman than to the Zulu, who prefers the
longer weapon, even as a missile. But it is evident that the former
shape of the weapon is the original one, and that the Kaffir, who
derived it from its original inventor, the Hottentot, has gradually
lengthened the shaft and diminished the size of the head.
The material of which the kerrie is made is mostly wood, that of the
acacia being frequently used for this purpose. The long knob-kerries
of the Zulus are generally cut from the tree that is emphatically,
though not euphoniously, named Stink-wood, on account of the unpleasant
odor which it gives out while being worked. As soon as it is dry, this
odor goes off, and not even the most sensitive nostril can be annoyed
by it. The stink-wood is a species of laurel, and its scientific name
is _Laurus bullata_. The most valuable, as well as the most durable
knob-kerries are those which are cut out of rhinoceros horn, and a
native can hardly be induced to part with a fine specimen for any
bribe. In the first place, the very fact of possessing such an article
shows that he must be a mighty hunter, and have slain a rhinoceros; and
in the second place, its great efficacy, and the enormous amount of
labor expended in carving out of the solid horn, endear it so much to
him, that he will not part with it except for something which will tend
to raise him in the eyes of his comrades. In England, a fine specimen
of knob-kerrie, made from the horn of the white rhinoceros, has been
known to fetch even ten pounds.
Thus much for the offensive weapons of the Zulu Kaffir. Toward the
north as well as to the west of the Draakensberg Mountains, a peculiar
battle-axe is used, which is evidently a modification of the barbed
spear which has already been described; but the true Zulu uses no
weapon except the assagai and the kerrie.
CHAPTER XII.
WAR--_Concluded_.
DEFENSIVE WEAPONS, AND MODE OF FIGHTING.
BODY ARMOR NOT WORN -- THE KAFFIR’S SHIELD -- ITS SHAPE, MATERIAL,
AND COLOR -- THE SHIELD AS A UNIFORM -- CURIOUS RUSE -- HOW THE
SHIELD IS HELD AND USED -- THE SHIELD STICK AND ITS ORNAMENTS --
VALUE OF THE SHIELD AGAINST SPEARS AND ARROWS -- THE BLACK AND WHITE
SHIELD REGIMENTS -- DISTRIBUTION OF SHIELDS -- MILITARY AMBITION AND
ITS INCENTIVES -- CHIEF OBJECTS OF WARFARE -- DISCIPLINE OF KAFFIR
ARMY -- CRUELTY OF TCHAKA AND OTHER ZULU MONARCHS -- OBSERVANCES
BEFORE A CAMPAIGN -- SUPERSTITIOUS CEREMONIES -- HOW THE ARMY IS
MAINTAINED IN THE FIELD -- TRACK OF AN ARMY THROUGH AN ENEMY’S LAND
-- JEALOUSY BETWEEN THE DIFFERENT REGIMENTS -- ORGANIZATION OF THE
ARMY -- NUMBER OF REGIMENTS AND GARRISON TOWNS -- NAMES OF THE
DIFFERENT REGIMENTS -- GOZA AND SANDILLI -- DISTINGUISHING UNIFORMS
OF THE REGIMENTS -- THE REVIEW AFTER A BATTLE, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
-- THE SHIELD BEARER AND HIS PERILOUS TASK -- THE ROYAL ATTENDANTS --
REWARD AND PUNISHMENT -- KAFFIR HERALDS -- VARIOUS TITLES OF THE KING
-- PANDA’S REVIEW COSTUME -- THE KING’S PROGRESS THROUGH HIS COUNTRY
-- INVENTION AND COMPLETION OF A MILITARY SYSTEM -- TCHAKA’S POLICY
COMPARED WITH THAT OF THE FIRST NAPOLEON -- TCHAKA’S RISE AND FALL
-- AN UNSUCCESSFUL EXPEDITION -- FAMILY QUARRELS -- A TREACHEROUS
CONSPIRACY -- MURDER OF TCHAKA, AND ACCESSION OF DINGAN.
The Zulu tribe have but one piece of defensive armor, namely, the
shield. The Kaffirs either are ignorant of, or despise bodily armor
of any kind, not even protecting their heads by caps and helmets,
but exposing their naked bodies and limbs to the weapons of the foe.
The shields are always made of ox-hide, and their color denotes the
department of the army to which the owner belongs. None but “men,”
who are entitled to wear the head-ring, are privileged to carry white
shields, while the “boys” on their promotion are furnished with black
shields. Some of them have their black and white shields spotted with
red or brown, this coloring denoting the particular regiment to which
they belong. It will be seen, therefore, that the shield constitutes a
kind of uniform, and it has more than once happened, that when the Zulu
warriors have got the better of their enemies, some of the more crafty
among the vanquished have contrived to exchange their own shields for
those belonging to slain Zulu warriors, and have thus contrived to
pass themselves off as victorious Amazulu until they could find an
opportunity of making their escape.
The double row of black marks down the centre of the shield (see
Goza’s, page 117,) is an addition which is invariably found in these
weapons of war, and serves partly as an ornament, and partly as a
convenient mode for fastening the handle. In ornamenting the shield
with these marks, the Kaffir cuts a double row of slits along the
shield while it is still wet and pliant, and then passes strips of
black hide in and out through the slits, so as to make the black of the
strip contrast itself boldly with the white of the shield.
The handle of the Kaffir’s shield is quite unique. Instead of being a
mere loop or projection in the centre of the shield, it is combined
with a stick which runs along the centre of the shield, and is long
enough to project at both ends. This stick serves several purposes, its
chief use being to strengthen the shield and keep it stiff, and its
second object being to assist the soldier in swinging it about in the
rapid manner which is required in the Kaffir’s mode of fighting and
dancing. The projection at the lower end is used as a rest, on which
the shield can stand whenever the warrior is tired of carrying it in
his arms, and the shield ought to be just so tall that, when the owner
stands erect, his eyes can just look over the top of the shield, while
the end of the stick reaches to the crown of his head. It will be seen
that the upper end of the stick has an ornament upon it. This is made
of the furry skin of some animal, which is cut into strips just like
those which are used for the “tails,” and the strips wound upon the
stick in a drum-like shape.
If the reader will refer to the illustration on p. 57, entitled
“Kaffirs at Home,” he will see three of these shield-sticks placed
in the fence of the cattle-fold, ready to be inserted in the shield
whenever they are wanted.
At each side of the shield there is a slight indentation, the object of
which is not very clear, unless it be simple fashion. It prevails to
a large extent throughout many parts of Africa, in some places being
comparatively slight, and in others so deep that the shield looks
like a great hour-glass. Although the shield is simply made of the
hide of an ox, and without that elaborate preparation with glue and
size which strengthens the American Indian’s shield, the native finds
it quite sufficient to guard him against either spear or club, while
those tribes which employ the bow find that their weapons can make
but little impression on troops which are furnished with such potent
defences. The Bosjesmans, and all the tribes which use poisoned arrows,
depend entirely on the virulence of the poison, and not on the force
with which the arrow is driven, so that their puny bow and slender
arrows are almost useless against foes whose whole bodies are covered
by shields, from which the arrows recoil as harmlessly as if they were
bucklers of iron.
As is the case in more civilized communities, the shields, which
constitute the uniforms, are not the private property of the individual
soldier, but are given out by the chief. Moreover, it seems that the
warlike chief Dingan would not grant shields to any young soldier until
he had shown himself worthy of wearing the uniform of his sovereign.
The skins of all the cattle in the garrison towns belong of right to
the king, and are retained by him for the purpose of being made into
shields, each skin being supposed to furnish two shields--a large
one, and a small, or hunting shield. Men are constantly employed in
converting hides into shields, which are stored in houses devoted to
the purpose.
Captain Gardiner gives an interesting account of an application for
shields made by a party of young soldiers, and their reception by the
king. It must be first understood that Dingan was at the time in his
chief garrison town, and that he was accompanied by his two favorite
Indoonas, or petty chiefs, one of whom, by name Tambooza, was a
singularly cross-grained individual, whose chief delight was in fault
finding. After mentioning that a chief, named Georgo, had travelled to
the king’s palace, at the head of a large detachment, for the purpose
of asking for shields, he proceeded as follows:--
“Their arrival at the principal gate of the town having been notified
to the king, an order was soon after sent for their admission,
when they all rushed up with a shout, brandishing their sticks in
a most violent manner, until within a respectable distance of the
Issigordlo, when they halted. Dingan soon mounted his pedestal and
showed himself over the fence, on which a simultaneous greeting of
‘Byāte!’ ran through the line into which they were now formed. He soon
disappeared, and the whole party then seated themselves on the ground
they occupied. Dingan shortly after came out, the two Indoonas and a
number of his great men having already arrived, and seated themselves
in semi-circular order on each side of his chair, from whom he was,
however, removed to a dignified distance. Tambooza, who is the great
speaker on all these occasions, and the professed scolder whenever
necessity requires, was now on his legs; to speak publicly in any
other posture would, I am convinced, be painful to a Zulu; nor is he
content with mere gesticulation--actual space is necessary; I had
almost said sufficient for a cricket ball to bound in, but this would
be hyperbole--a run, however, he must have, and I have been surprised
at the grace and effect which this novel accompaniment to the art of
elocution has often given to the point and matter of the discourse.
“In this character Tambooza is inimitable, and shone especially on the
present occasion, having doubtless been instructed by the king, in
whose name he addressed Georgo and his party, to interlard his oration
with as many pungent reproofs and cutting invectives as his fertile
imagination could invent, or his natural disposition suggest. On a late
expedition, it appears that the troops now harangued had not performed
the service expected--they had entered the territory of Umselekaz, and,
instead of surrounding and capturing the herds within their reach,
had attended to some pretended instructions to halt and return; some
palliating circumstances had no doubt screened them from the customary
rigor on such occasions, and this untoward occurrence was now turned to
the best advantage. After a long tirade, in which Tambooza ironically
described their feeble onset and fruitless effort, advancing like a
Mercury to fix his part, and gracefully retiring as though to point
a fresh barb for the attack; now slaking his wrath by a journey to
the right, and then as abruptly recoiling to the left, by each detour
increasing in vehemence, the storm was at length at its height, and in
the midst of the tempest he had stirred he retired to the feet of his
sovereign, who, I remarked, could scarcely refrain from smiling at many
of the taunting expressions that were used.
“Georgo’s countenance can better be imagined than described at this
moment. Impatient to reply, he now rose from the centre of the
line, his person decorated with strings of pink beads worn over his
shoulders like a cross belt, and large brass rings on his arms and
throat. ‘Amanka’ (it is false), was the first word he uttered. The
various chivalrous deeds of himself and his men were then set forth
in the most glowing colors, and a scene ensued which I scarcely know
how to describe. Independent of his own energetic gesticulations, his
violent leaping and sententious running; on the first announcement of
any exculpatory fact indicating their prowess in arms, one or more of
the principal warriors would rush from the ranks to corroborate the
statement by a display of muscular power in leaping, charging, and
pantomimic conflict, which quite made the ground to resound under their
feet; alternately leaping and galloping (for it is not running) until,
frenzied by the tortuous motion, their nerves were sufficiently strong
for the acme posture--vaulting several feet in the air, drawing the
knees toward the chin, and at the same time passing the hands between
the ankles. (See illustration No. 2 on page opposite.)
“In this singular manner were the charges advanced and rebutted for
a considerable time; Dingan acting behind the scenes as a moderator,
and occasionally calling off Tambooza as an unruly bull-dog from the
bait. At length, as though imperceptibly drawn into the argument, he
concluded the business in these words:--‘When have we heard anything
good of Georgo? What has Georgo done? It is a name that is unknown to
us. I shall give you no shields until you have proved yourself worthy
of them; go and bring me some cattle from Umselekaz, and then shields
shall be given you.’ A burst of applause rang from all sides on this
unexpected announcement; under which, in good taste, the despot made
his exit, retiring into the Issogordlo, while bowls of beer were served
out to the soldiers, who with their Indoon were soon after observed
marching over the hills, on their way to collect the remainder of their
regiment, for the promised expedition.
“I am inclined to think that there was much of state policy in the
whole of these proceedings, particularly as the order for the attack
on Umselekaz was shortly after countermanded, and not more than ten
or twelve days elapsed before the same party returned, and received
their shields. At this time I was quietly writing in my hut; one of the
shield houses adjoined; and I shall never forget the unceremonious rush
they made. Not contented with turning them all out, and each selecting
one, but, in order to prove them and shake off the dust, they commenced
beating them on the spot with sticks, which, in connection with this
sudden incursion, occasioned such an unusual tumult that I thought a
civil war had commenced.”
* * * * *
Having now seen the weapons used by the Kaffir warriors, we will see
how they wage war.
When the chief arranges his troops in order of battle, he places the
“boys” in the van, and gives them the post of honor, as well as of
danger. In this position they have the opportunity of distinguishing
themselves for which they so earnestly long, and, as a general rule,
display such valor that it is not very easy to pick out those who have
earned especial glory. Behind them are arranged the “men” with their
white shields. These have already established their reputation, and do
not require further distinction. They serve a double purpose. Firstly,
they act as a reserve in case the front ranks of the “black-shields”
should be repulsed, and, being men of more mature age, oppose an
almost impregnable front to the enemy, while the “black-shields”
can re-form their ranks under cover, and then renew the charge. The
second object is, that they serve as a very effectual incitement to
the young men to do their duty. They know that behind them is a body
of skilled warriors, who are carefully noting all their deeds, and
they are equally aware that if they attempt to run away they will be
instantly killed by the “white-shields” in their rear. As has already
been mentioned, the dearest wish of a young Kaffir’s heart is to become
a “white-shield” himself, and there is no prouder day of his life than
that in which he bears for the first time the white war shield on his
arm, the “isikoko” on his head, and falls into the ranks with those to
whom he has so long looked up with admiration and envy.
In order to incite the “black-shields” to the most strenuous exertions,
their reward is promised to them beforehand. Just before they set out
on their expedition, the young unmarried girls of the tribe are paraded
before them, and they are told that each who succeeds in distinguishing
himself before the enemy shall be presented with one of those damsels
for a wife when he returns. So he does not only receive the barren
permission to take a wife, and thus to enrol himself among the men,
but the wife is presented to him without pay, his warlike deeds being
considered as more than an equivalent for the cows which he would
otherwise have been obliged to pay for her.
[Illustration: (1.) KAFFIR WARRIORS SKIRMISHING. (See page 102.)]
[Illustration: (2.) MUSCULAR ADVOCACY. (See page 110.)]
A curious custom prevails in the households of the white-shield
warriors. When one of them goes out to war, his wife takes his sleeping
mat, his pillow, and his spoon, and hangs them upon the wall of the
hut. Every morning at early dawn she goes and inspects them with loving
anxiety, and looks to see whether they cast a shadow or not. As long
as they do so, she knows that her husband is alive; but if no shadow
should happen to be thrown by them, she feels certain that her husband
is dead, and laments his loss as if she had actually seen his dead
body. This curious custom irresistibly reminds the reader of certain
tales in the “Arabian Nights,” where the life or death of an absent
person is known by some object that belonged to him--a knife, for
example--which dripped blood as soon as its former owner was dead.
Before Tchaka’s invention of the heavy stabbing-assagai, there was
rather more noise than execution in a Kaffir battle, the assagais being
received harmlessly on the shields, and no one much the worse for them.
But his trained troops made frightful havoc among the enemy, and the
destruction was so great, that the Zulus were said to be not men, but
eaters of men. The king’s place was in the centre of the line, and
in the rear, so that he could see all the proceedings with his own
eyes, and could give directions, from time to time, to the favored
councillors who were around him, and who acted as aides-de-camp,
executing their commissions at their swiftest pace, and then returning
to take their post by the sacred person of their monarch.
The commander of each regiment and section of a regiment was supposed
to be its embodiment, and on him hung all the blame if it suffered a
repulse. Tchaka made no allowance whatever for superior numbers on the
part of the enemy, and his warriors knew well that, whatever might
be the force opposed to them, they had either to conquer or to die;
and, as it was better to die fighting than to perish ignominiously
as cowards after the battle, they fought with a frantic valor that
was partly inherent in their nature, and was partly the result of the
strict and sanguinary discipline under which they fought. After the
battle, the various officers are called out, and questioned respecting
the conduct of the men under their command. Reward and retribution are
equally swift in operation, an immediate advance in rank falling to the
lot of those who had shown notable courage, while those who have been
even suspected of cowardice are immediately slain.
Sometimes the slaughter after an expedition is terrible, even under
the reign of Panda, a very much milder man than his great predecessor.
Tchaka has been known to order a whole regiment for execution; and on
one occasion he killed all the “white-shields,” ordering the “boys”
to assume the head-ring, and take the positions and shields of the
slain. Panda, however, is not such a despot as Tchaka, and, indeed,
does not possess the irresponsible power of that king. No one ever
dared to interfere with Tchaka, knowing that to contradict him was
certain death. But when Panda has been disposed to kill a number of his
subjects his councillors have interfered, and by their remonstrances
have succeeded in stopping the massacre.
Sometimes these wars are carried on in the most bloodthirsty manner,
and not only the soldiers in arms, but the women, the old and the
young, fall victims to the assagais and clubs of the victorious enemy.
Having vanquished the foe, they press on toward the kraals, spearing
all the inhabitants, and carrying off all the cattle. Indeed, the
“lifting” of cattle on a large scale often constitutes the chief end of
a Kaffir war.
Before starting on an expedition the soldiers undergo a series of
ceremonies, which are supposed to strengthen their bodies, improve
their courage, and propitiate the spirits of their forefathers in
their favor. The ceremony begins with the king, who tries to obtain
some article belonging to the person of the adverse chief, such as a
scrap of any garment that he has worn, a snuff box, the shaft of an
assagai, or, indeed, anything that has belonged to him. A portion of
this substance is scraped into certain medicines prepared by the witch
doctor, and the king either swallows the medicine, or cuts little
gashes on different parts of his body, and rubs the medicine into them.
This proceeding is supposed to give dominion over the enemy, and is a
sign that he will be “eaten up” in the ensuing battle. So fearful are
the chiefs that the enemy may thus overcome them, that they use the
most minute precautions to prevent any articles belonging to themselves
from falling into the hands of those who might make a bad use of them.
When a chief moves his quarters, even the floor of his hut is carefully
scraped; and Dingan was so very particular on this point that he has
been known to burn down an entire kraal, after he left it, in order
that no vestige of anything that belonged to himself should fall into
evil hands.
After the king, the men take their turn of duty, and a very unpleasant
duty it is. An ox is always slain, and one of its legs cut off; and
this extraordinary ceremony is thought to be absolutely needful for a
successful warfare. Sometimes the limb is severed from the unfortunate
animal while it is still alive. On one occasion the witch doctor
conceived the brilliant idea of cutting off the leg of a living bull,
and then making the warriors eat it raw, tearing the flesh from the
bone with their teeth. They won the battle, but the witch doctor got
more credit for his powerful charms than did the troops for their
courage.
Of course the animal cannot survive very long after such treatment; and
when it is dead, the flesh is cut away with assagais, and a part of
it chopped into small morsels, in each of which is a portion of some
charmed powder. The uncleared bones are thrown among the warriors,
scrambled for, and eaten; and when this part of the ceremony has been
concluded, the remainder of the flesh is cooked and eaten. A curious
process then takes place, a kind of purification by fire, the sparks
from a burning brand being blown over them by the witch doctor. Next
day they are treated to a dose which acts as a violent emetic; and the
ceremonies conclude with a purification by water, which is sprinkled
over them by the chief himself. These wild and savage ceremonies have
undoubtedly a great influence over the minds of the warriors, who fancy
themselves to be under the protection of their ancestors, the only
deities which a Kaffir seems to care much about.
As to the department of the commissariat, it varies much with the
caprice of the chief. Tchaka always used to send plenty of cattle with
his armies, so that they never need fear the weakening of their forces
by hunger. He also sent very large supplies of grain and other food.
His successors, however, have not been so generous, and force their
troops to provide for themselves by foraging among the enemy.
Cattle are certainly taken with them, but not to be eaten. In case
they may be able to seize the cattle of the enemy, they find that
the animals can be driven away much more easily if they are led by
others of their own kind. The cattle that accompany an expedition
are therefore employed as guides. They sometimes serve a still more
important purpose. Clever as is a Kaffir in finding his way under
ordinary circumstances, there are occasions where even his wonderful
topographical powers desert him. If, for example, he is in an enemy’s
district, and is obliged to travel by night, he may well lose his way,
if the nights should happen to be cloudy, and neither moon nor stars be
visible; and, if he has a herd of the enemy’s oxen under his charge,
he feels himself in a very awkward predicament. He dares not present
himself at his kraal without the oxen, or his life would be instantly
forfeited; and to drive a herd of oxen to a place whose position he
does not know would be impossible. He therefore allows the oxen that he
has brought with him to go their own way, and merely follows in their
track, knowing that their instinct will surely guide them to their home.
When the Kaffir soldiery succeed in capturing a kraal, their first care
is to secure the oxen; and if the inhabitants should have been prudent
enough to remove their much loved cattle, their next search is for
maize, millet, and other kinds of corn. It is not a very easy matter to
find the grain stores, because they are dug in the ground, and, after
being filled, are covered over so neatly with earth, that only the
depositors know the exact spot. The “isi-baya” is a favorite place for
these subterranean stores, because the trampling of the cattle soon
obliterates all marks of digging. The isi-baya is, therefore, the first
place to be searched: and in some cases the inhabitants have concealed
their stores so cleverly that the invaders could not discover them
by any other means except digging up the whole of the enclosure to a
considerable depth. Now and then, when the inhabitants of a kraal have
received notice that the enemy is expected, they remove the grain from
the storehouses, and hide it in the bush, closing the granaries again,
so as to give the enemy all the trouble of digging, to no purpose.
Panda, who refuses to send provisions with his forces, has sometimes
caused them to suffer great hardships by his penurious conduct. On one
occasion they discovered a granary with plenty of corn in it, and were
so hungry that they could not wait to cook it properly, but ate it
almost raw, at the same time drinking large quantities of water. The
consequence was, that many of them were so ill that they had to be left
behind when the march was resumed, and were detected and killed by the
inhabitants of the kraal, who came back from their hiding places in the
bush as soon as they saw the enemy move away. In one case, Panda’s army
was so badly supplied with provisions that the soldiers were obliged
to levy contributions even on his own villages. In some of these
kraals the women, who expected what might happen, had emptied their
storehouses, and hidden all their food in the bush, so that the hungry
soldiers could not even find some corn to grind into meal, nor clotted
milk to mix with it. They were so angry at their disappointment that
they ransacked the cattle-fold, discovered and robbed the subterranean
granaries, and, after cooking as much food as they wanted, carried off
a quantity of corn for future rations, and broke to pieces all the
cooking vessels which they had used. If they could act thus in their
own country, their conduct in an enemy’s land may be easily conjectured.
One reason for the withholding of supplies may probably be due to the
mode of fighting of the Zulu armies. They are entirely composed of
light infantry, and can be sent to great distances with a rapidity that
an ordinary European soldier can scarcely comprehend. The fact is,
they carry nothing except their weapons, and have no heavy knapsack
nor tight clothing to impede their movements. In fact, the clothing
which they wear on a campaign is more for ornament than for covering,
and consists chiefly of feathers stuck in the hair. So careful are the
chiefs that their soldiers should not be impeded by baggage of any
kind, that they are not even allowed to take a kaross with them, but
must sleep in the open air without any covering, just as is the case
with the guardians of the harem, who are supposed, by virtue of their
office, to be soldiers engaged in a campaign.
As to pay, as we understand the word, neither chief nor soldiers
have much idea of it. If the men distinguish themselves, the chief
mostly presents them with beads and blankets, not as pay to which they
have a right, but as a gratuity for which they are indebted to his
generosity. As to the “boys,” they seldom have anything, being only
on their promotion, and not considered as enjoying the privileges of
manhood. This custom is very irritating to the “boys,” some of whom are
more than thirty years of age, and who consider themselves quite as
effective members of the army as those who have been permitted to wear
the head-ring and bear the white shield. Their dissatisfaction with
their rank has, however, the good effect of making them desirous of
becoming “ama-doda,” and thus increasing their value in time of action.
Sometimes this distinction of rank breaks out in open quarrel, and on
one occasion the “men” and the “boys” came to blows with each other,
and would have taken to their spears if Panda and his councillors
had not personally quelled the tumult. The fact was, that Panda
had organized an invasion, and, as soon as they heard of it, the
black-shield regiment begged to be sent off at once to the scene of
battle. The white-shields, however, suspected what was really the case;
namely, that the true destination of the troops was not that which the
king had mentioned, and accordingly sat silent, and took no part in
the general enthusiasm. Thereupon the “boys” taunted the “men” with
cowardice, and said that they preferred their comfortable homes to the
hardships of warfare. The “men” retorted that, as they had fought under
Tchaka and Dingan, as well as Panda, and had earned their advancement
under the eye of chiefs who killed all who did not fight bravely, no
one could accuse them of cowardice; whereas the “boys” were ignorant
of warfare, and were talking nonsense. These remarks were too true to
be pleasant, and annoyed the “boys” so much that they grew insolent,
and provoked the “men” to take to their sticks. However, instead of
yielding, the “boys” only returned the blows, and if Panda had not
interfered, there would have been a serious riot.
His conduct on this occasion shows the strange jealousy which possesses
the mind of a Kaffir king. The “men” were, in this case, undoubtedly
right, and the “boys” undoubtedly wrong. Yet Panda took the part of
the latter, because he was offended with the argument of the “men.”
They ought not to have mentioned his predecessors, Tchaka and Dingan,
in his presence, as the use of their names implied a slight upon
himself. They might have prided themselves as much as they liked, in
the victories which they had gained under him, but they had no business
to mention the warlike deeds of his predecessors. Perhaps he remembered
that those predecessors had been murdered by their own people, and
might have an uneasy fear that his own turn would come some day. So he
showed his displeasure by sending oxen to the “boys” as a feast, and
leaving the “men” without any food. Of course, in the end the “men” had
to yield, and against their judgment went on the campaign. During that
expedition the smouldering flame broke out several times, the “boys”
refusing to yield the post of honor to the “men,” whom they taunted
with being cowards and afraid to fight. However, the more prudent
counsels of the “men” prevailed, and harmony was at last restored, the
“men” and the “boys” dividing into two brigades, and each succeeding
in the object for which they set out, without needlessly exposing
themselves to danger by attacking nearly impregnable forts.
* * * * *
We will now proceed to the soldiers themselves, and see how the
wonderful discipline of a Kaffir army is carried out in detail. First
we will examine the dress of the soldier. Of course, the chief, who
is the general in command, will have the place of honor, and we will
therefore take the portrait of a well-known Zulu chief as he appears
when fully equipped for war. If the reader will refer to page 117, No.
1, he will see a portrait of Goza in the costume which he ordinarily
wears. The illustration No. 2, same page, represents him in full
uniform, and affords a favorable example of the war dress of a powerful
Kaffir chief. He bears on his left arm his great white war shield, the
size denoting its object, and the color pointing out the fact that he
is a married man. The long, slender feather which is fastened in his
head-ring is that of the South African crane, and is a conventional
symbol denoting war. There is in my collection a very remarkable war
headdress, that was worn by the celebrated Zulu chief, Sandilli, who
gave the English so much trouble during the Kaffir war, and proved
himself worthy of his rank as a warrior, and his great reputation as an
orator. Sandilli was further remarkable because he had triumphed over
physical disadvantages, which are all-important in a Kaffir’s eyes.
It has already been mentioned that a deformed person is scarcely ever
seen among the Kaffirs, because infants that show signs of deformity
of any kind are almost invariably killed as soon as born. Sandilli was
one of these unfortunate children, one of his legs being withered as
high as the knee, so that he was deprived of all that physical agility
that is so greatly valued by Kaffirs, and which has so great a share
in gaining promotion. By some strange chance the life of this deformed
infant was preserved, and, under the now familiar name of Sandilli, the
child grew to be a man, rose to eminence among his own people, took
rank as a great chief, and became a very thorn in the sides of the
English colonists. After many years of struggle, he at last gave in
his submission to English rule, and might be often seen on horseback,
dashing about in the headlong style which a Kaffir loves.
The headdress which he was accustomed to wear in time of war is
represented in “articles of costume,” page 33, at fig. 4. Instead of
wearing a single feather of the crane, Sandilli took the whole breast
of the bird, from which the long, slender feathers droop. The skin
has been removed from the breast, bent and worked so as to form a
kind of cap, and the feathers arranged so that they shall all point
upward, leaning rather backward. This curious and valuable headdress
was presented to me by G. Ellis, Esq., who brought it from the Cape in
1865. Sandilli belongs to the sub-tribe Amagaika, and is remarkable for
his very light color and commanding stature.
It will be seen that both Goza and his councillors wear plenty of
feathers on their heads, and that the cap of the left-hand warrior
bears some resemblance to that which has just been described. The
whole person of the chief is nearly covered with barbaric ornaments.
His apron is made of leopards’ tails, and his knees and ankles are
decorated with tufts made of the long flowing hair of the Angora goat.
Twisted strips of rare furs hang from his neck and chest, while his
right hand holds the long knob-kerrie which is so much in use among the
Zulu warriors. The portrait of Goza is taken from a photograph. The
councillors who stand behind him are apparelled with nearly as much
gorgeousness as their chief, and the odd-shaped headdresses which they
wear denote the regiments to which they happen to belong. These men,
like their chief, were photographed in their full dress.
It has already been mentioned that the soldiers are divided into two
great groups; namely, the married men and the bachelors, or, as they
are popularly called, the “men” and the “boys.” But each of these great
groups, or divisions, if we may use that word in its military sense, is
composed of several regiments, varying from six hundred to a thousand
or more in strength. Each of these regiments inhabits a single military
kraal, or garrison town, and is commanded by the headman of that kraal.
Moreover, the regiments are subdivided into companies, each of which is
under the command of an officer of lower grade; and so thoroughly is
this system carried out, that European soldiers feel almost startled
when they find that these savages have organized a system of army
management nearly identical with their own. The regiments are almost
invariably called by the name of some animal, and the soldiers are
placed in them according to their physical characteristics. Thus, the
Elephant regiment consists of the largest and strongest warriors, and
holds a position like that of our Grenadiers. Then the Lion regiment is
composed of men who have distinguished themselves by special acts of
daring; while the Springbok regiment would be formed of men noted for
their activity, for the quickness with which they can leap about when
encumbered with their weapons, and for their speed of foot, and ability
to run great distances. They correspond with our light cavalry, and are
used for the same purpose.
There are twenty-six of these regiments in the Zulu army, and they can
be as easily distinguished by their uniform as those of our own army.
The twenty-sixth regiment is the equivalent of our household troops,
being the body-guard of the king, and furnishing all the sentinels for
the harem. Their uniform is easily distinguishable, and is very simple,
being, in fact, an utter absence of all clothing. Only the picked
men among the warriors are placed in this distinguished regiment,
and neither by day nor night do they wear a scrap of clothing. This
seems rather a strange method of conferring an honorable distinction;
but entire nudity is quite as much valued by a Kaffir soldier as the
decoration of the Bath or Victoria Cross among ourselves.
The first regiment is called Omobapankue, a word that signifies
“Leopard-catchers.” Some years ago, when Tchaka was king of the Zulus,
a leopard killed one of his attendants. He sent a detachment of the
first regiment after the animal, and the brave fellows succeeded in
catching it alive, and bearing their struggling prize to the king. In
order to reward them for their courage, he gave the first regiment the
honorary title of “Leopard-catchers,” which title has been ever since
borne by them.
There are three commissioned officers--if such a term may be used--in
each regiment: namely the colonel, or “Indoona-e’nkolu,” _i. e._
the Great Officer; the captain, “N’genana,” and the lieutenant,
“N’gena-obzana.” The headman of any kraal goes by the name of Indoona,
and he who rules over one of the great garrison towns is necessarily a
man of considerable authority and high rank. The king’s councillors are
mostly selected from the various Indoonas. Below the lieutenant, there
are subordinate officers who correspond almost exactly to the sergeants
and corporals of our own armies.
[Illustration: (1.) GOZA, THE ZULU CHIEF, IN ORDINARY DRESS. (See page
115.)]
[Illustration: (2.) GOZA IN FULL WAR DRESS, ATTENDED BY HIS COUNCILLORS.
(See page 115.)]
In order to distinguish the men of the different regiments, a peculiar
headdress is assigned to each regiment. On these headdresses the
natives seem to have exercised all their ingenuity. The wildest fancy
would hardly conceive the strange shapes that a Kaffir soldier can make
with feathers, and fur, and raw hide. Any kind of feather is seized
upon to do duty in a Kaffir soldier’s headdress, but the most valued
plumage is that of a roller, whose glittering dress of blue green is
worked up into large globular tufts, which are worn upon the back of
the head, and on the upper part of the forehead. Such an ornament as
this is seldom if ever seen upon the head of a simple warrior, as it is
too valuable to be possessed by any but a chief of consideration. Panda
is very fond of wearing this beautiful ornament on occasions of state,
and sometimes wears two at once, the one on the front of his head-ring,
and the other attached to the crown of the head.
The raw hide is stripped of its fur by being rolled up and buried for a
day or two, and is then cut and moulded into the most fantastic forms,
reminding the observer of the strange devices with which the heroes
of the Niebelungen decorated their helmets. Indeed, some of these
headdresses of the Kaffir warriors might easily be mistaken at a little
distance for the more classical though not more elaborate helmet of the
ancient German knights. The soldiers which are here represented belong
to two different regiments of the Zulu army, and have been selected as
affording good examples of the wild and picturesque uniform which is
adopted by these dusky troops. In some headdresses the fur is retained
on the skin, and thus another effect is obtained.
The object of all this savage decoration is twofold: firstly, to
distinguish the soldiers of the different regiments, and, secondly to
strike terror into the enemy. Both their objects are very thoroughly
accomplished, for the uniforms of the twenty-six regiments are very
dissimilar to each other, and all the neighboring tribes stand in the
greatest dread of the Amazulu, who, they say, are not men, but eaters
of men.
Beside the regular regiments, there is always a body-guard of armed men
whose duty it is to attend the chief and obey his orders. Each chief
has his own body-guard, but that of the king is not only remarkable
for its numerical strength, but for the rank of its members. Dingan,
for example, had a body-guard that mustered several hundred strong,
and every member of it was a man of rank. It was entirely composed of
Indoonas from all parts of the country under his command. With the
admirable organizing power which distinguishes the Kaffir chiefs,
he had arranged his Indoonas so methodically, that each man had to
serve in the body-guard for a certain time, until he was relieved
by his successor. This simple plan allowed the king to exercise a
personal supervision over the ruling men of his dominions, and, on the
other side, the subordinate chiefs were able to maintain a personal
communication with their monarch, and to receive their orders directly
from himself.
It has already been mentioned that, after a battle, the king calls his
soldiers together, and holds a review. One of these assemblages is a
most astonishing sight, and very few Europeans have been privileged
to see it. This review is looked upon by the troops with the greatest
reverence, for few of them know whether at the close of it they may
be raised to a higher rank or be lying dead in the bush. As to the
“boys,” especially those who are conscious that they have behaved well
in the fight, they look to it with hope, as it presents a chance of
their elevation to the ranks of the “men,” and their possession of the
coveted white shield. Those who are not so sure of themselves are very
nervous about the review, and think themselves extremely fortunate if
they are not pointed out to the king as bad soldiers, and executed on
the spot.
The review takes place in the great enclosure of one of the garrison
towns, and the troops form themselves into a large circle. It is a
curious fact that not even in military matters has the Kaffir an idea
of forming in line, and that the evolutions, such as they are, are
all carried out in curved lines, which are the abhorrence of European
tacticians. The white and black shield divisions are separated from
each other in each regiment, and the whole army “stands at ease,” with
the shield resting on the ground, and the whole body covered by it as
high as the lips. They stand motionless as statues, and in death-like
silence await the coming of their king.
After the customary lapse of one hour or so, the king, with his
councillors, chief officers, and particular friends, comes into the
circle, attended by his chair bearer, his shield bearer, his page, and
a servant or two. The shield bearer has an honorable, though perilous,
service to perform. He has to hold the shield so as to shade the royal
person from the sun, and should he happen, through any inadvertence, to
allow the king to feel a single sunbeam, he may think himself fortunate
if he escape with his life, while a severe punishment is the certain
result.
The chair is placed in the centre of the circle, in order for his sable
majesty to repose himself after the exertion of walking nearly two
hundred yards. Large baskets full of beer are placed near the royal
chair, and before he can proceed to business the king is obliged to
recruit his energies with beer and snuff, both of which are handed to
him by his pages.
He next orders a number of cattle to be driven past him, and points
to certain animals which he intends to be killed in honor of his
guests. As each ox is pointed out, a warrior leaps forward with his
stabbing-assagai, and kills the animal with a single blow, piercing it
to the heart with the skill of a practised hand. Much as a Kaffir loves
his oxen, the sight of the dying animal always seems to excite him to
a strange pitch of enthusiasm, and the king contemplates with great
satisfaction the dying oxen struggling in the last pangs of death, and
the evolutions of the survivors, who snuff and snort at the blood of
their comrades, and then dash wildly away in all directions, pursued by
their keepers, and with difficulty guided to their own enclosures. The
king then rises, and, with the assistance of his attendants, walks, or
rather waddles, round the inner ring of warriors as fast as his obesity
will permit him, resting every now and then on his chair, which is
carried after him by his page, and refreshing himself at rather short
intervals with beer.
Next comes the most important part of the proceedings. The chief
officers of the various regiments that have been engaged give in their
reports to the king, who immediately acts upon them. When a warrior has
particularly distinguished himself, the king points to him, and calls
him by name. Every man in the army echoes the name at the full pitch
of his voice, and every arm is pointed at the happy soldier, who sees
his ambition as fully gratified as it is possible to be. Almost beside
himself with exultation at his good fortune, he leaps from the ranks,
“and commences running, leaping, springing high into the air, kicking,
and flourishing his shield, and going through the most surprising and
agile manœuvres imaginable; now brandishing his weapons, stabbing,
parrying, and retreating; and again vaulting into the ranks, light of
foot and rigid of muscle, so rapidly that the eye can scarcely follow
his evolutions.” Sometimes six or seven of these distinguished warriors
will be dancing simultaneously in different parts of the ring, while
their companions encourage them with shouts and yells of applause. Many
of the “boys” are at these reviews permitted to rank among the “men,”
and sometimes, when a whole regiment of the black-shields has behaved
especially well, the king has ordered them all to exchange their black
for the white shield, and to assume the head-ring which marks their
rank as ama-doda, or “men.”
Next come the terrible scenes when the officers point out those who
have disgraced themselves in action. The unfortunate soldiers are
instantly dragged out of the ranks, their shields and spears taken
from them, and, at the king’s nod, they are at once killed and their
bodies thrown into the bush. Sometimes they are beaten to death with
knob-kerries, and sometimes their necks are twisted by the executioner
laying one hand on the crown of the head and the other under the chin.
The wretched sufferers never think of resisting, nor even of appealing
for mercy; and to such a pitch of obedience did Tchaka bring this
fierce and warlike nation, that men guiltless of any offence have been
known to thank him for their punishment while actually dying under the
strokes of the executioners.
When the double business of rewarding the brave soldiers and punishing
the cowards has been completed, the professional minstrels or praisers
come forward, and recite the various honorary titles of the king in
a sort of recitative, without the least pause between the words, and
in most stentorian voices. Perhaps the term Heralds would not be very
inappropriate to these men. The soldiers take up the chorus of praise,
and repeat the titles of their ruler in shouts that are quite deafening
to an unaccustomed ear. Each title is assumed or given to the king
in commemoration of some notable deed, or on account of some fancy
that may happen to flit through the royal brain in a dream; and, as
he is continually adding to his titles, the professional reciters had
need possess good memories, as the omission of any of them would be
considered as an insult.
Some of Panda’s titles have already been mentioned, but some of
the others are so curious that they ought not to be omitted. For
example, he is called “Father of men,” _i. e._ the ama-doda, or
married warriors; “He who lives forever”--a compliment on his
surviving the danger of being killed by Dingan; “He who is high as
the mountains”--“He who is high as the heavens”--this being evidently
the invention of a clever courtier who wished to “cap” the previous
compliment; “Elephant’s calf;” “Great black one;” “Bird that eats other
birds”--in allusion to his conquests in battle; “Son of a cow;” “Noble
elephant,” and a hundred other titles, equally absurd in the mind of a
European, but inspiring great respect in that of a Kaffir.
When all this tumultuous scene is over, the review closes, just as
our reviews do, with a “march past.” The king sits in his chair, as a
general on his horse, while the whole army defiles in front of him,
each soldier as he passes bowing to the ground, and lowering his shield
and assagais, as we droop our colors in the presence of the sovereign.
In order to appear to the best advantage on these occasions, and to
impress the spectators with the solemnity of the ceremony, the king
dresses himself with peculiar care, and generally wears a different
costume at each review. The dress which he usually wears at his
evening receptions, when his officers come to report themselves and to
accompany him in his daily inspection of his herds, is the usual apron
or kilt, made either of leopard’s tails or monkey’s skin, a headdress
composed of various feathers and a round ball of clipped worsted, while
his arms are decorated with rings of brass and ivory.
[Illustration: (1.) PANDA’S REVIEW. (See page 120.)]
[Illustration: (2.) HUNTING SCENE. (See page 135.)]
It is easy to see how this custom of holding a review almost
immediately after the battle, and causing either reward or punishment
to come swiftly upon the soldiers, must have added to the efficiency
of the armies, especially when the system was carried out by a man
like its originator Tchaka, an astute, sanguinary, determined, and
pitiless despot. Under the two successive reigns of Dingan and Panda,
and especially under the latter, the efficiency of the Zulu army--the
eaters of men--has notably diminished, this result being probably
owing to the neighborhood of the English colony at Natal, in which the
Zulu warriors can find a refuge when they fear that their lives are
endangered. Formerly, the men had no possible refuge, so that a Kaffir
was utterly in the power of his chief, and the army was therefore more
of a machine than it is at present.
Reviews such as have been described are not only held in war time, but
frequently take place in times of peace. It has been mentioned that the
king of the Zulu tribe has twenty-six war-kraals, or garrison towns,
and he generally contrives to visit each of them in the course of the
year. Each time that he honors the kraal by his presence the troops are
turned out, and a review is held, though not always accompanied by the
lavish distribution of rewards and punishment which distinguishes those
which are held after battle.
The vicissitudes of Kaffir warfare are really remarkable from a
military point of view. Originally, the only idea which the Kaffirs
had of warfare was a desultory kind of skirmishing, in which each
man fought “for his own hand,” and did not reckon on receiving any
support from his comrades, each of whom was engaged in fight on his own
account. In fact, war was little more than a succession of duels, and,
if a warrior succeeded in killing the particular enemy to whom he was
opposed, he immediately sought another. But the idea of large bodies of
men acting in concert, and being directed by one mind, was one that had
not occurred to the Kaffirs until the time of Tchaka.
When that monarch introduced a system and a discipline into warfare,
the result was at once apparent. Individual skirmishers had no chance
against large bodies of men, mutually supporting each other, moving as
if actuated by one mind, and, under the guidance of a single leader,
advancing with a swift but steady impetuosity that the undisciplined
soldiers of the enemy could not resist. Discipline could not be turned
against the Zulus, for Tchaka left the conquered tribes no time to
organize themselves into armies, even if they had possessed leaders
who were capable of that task. His troops swept over the country like
an army of locusts, consuming everything on their way, and either
exterminating the various tribes, or incorporating them in some
capacity or other among the Zulus.
In truth, his great policy was to extend the Zulu tribe, and from a
mere tribe to raise them into a nation. His object was, therefore, not
so much to destroy as to absorb, and, although he did occasionally
extirpate a tribe that would not accept his conditions, it was for
the purpose of striking terror into others, and proving to them
the futility of resistance. Those that had accepted his offers he
incorporated with his own army, and subjected to the same discipline,
but took care to draught them off into different regiments, so that
they could not combine in a successful revolt. The result of this
simple but far-seeing policy was, that in a few years the Zulu tribe,
originally small, had, beside its regular regiments on duty, some
twelve or fifteen thousand men always ready for any sudden expedition,
and at the end of five or six years the Zulu king was paramount over
the whole of Southern Africa, the only check upon him being the
European colonies. These he evidently intended to sweep away, but was
murdered before he could bring his scheme to maturity. Tchaka’s system
was followed by Moselekatze in the north of Kaffirland, who contrived
to manage so well that the bulk of his army belonged to Bechuanan and
other tribes, some of whose customs he adopted.
The military system of Tchaka prevailed, as must be the case when
there is no very great inequality between the opposing forces, and
discipline is all on one side. But, when discipline is opposed to
discipline, and the advantage of weapons lies on the side of the
latter, the consequences are disastrous to the former. Thus it has been
with the Kaffir tribes. The close ranks of warriors, armed with shield
and spear, were irresistible when opposed to men similarly armed, but
without any regular discipline, but, when they came to match themselves
against fire-arms, they found that their system was of little value.
The shield could resist the assagai well enough, but against the bullet
it was powerless, and though the stabbing-assagai was a terrible weapon
when the foe was at close quarters, it was of no use against an enemy
who could deal destruction at the distance of several hundred yards.
Moreover, the close and compact ranks, which were so efficacious
against the irregular warriors of the country, became an absolute
element of weakness when the soldiers were exposed to heavy volleys
from the distant enemy. Therefore, the whole course of battle was
changed when the Zulus fought against the white man and his fire-arms,
and they found themselves obliged to revert to the old system of
skirmishing, though the skirmishers fought under the commands of the
chief, instead of each man acting independently, as had formerly been
the case.
We remember how similar changes have taken place in our European
armies, when the heavy columns that used to be so resistless were
shattered by the fire of single ranks, and how the very massiveness of
the column rendered it a better mark for the enemy’s fire, and caused
almost every shot to take effect.
Tchaka was not always successful, for he forgot that cunning is often
superior to force, and that the enemy’s spears are not the most
dangerous weapons in his armory. The last expedition that Tchaka
organized was a singularly unsuccessful one. He had first sent an army
against a tribe which had long held out against him, and which had
the advantage of a military position so strong that even the trained
Zulu warriors, who knew that failure was death, could not succeed in
taking it. Fortunately for Tchaka, some Europeans were at the time in
his kraal, and he obliged them to fight on his behalf. The enemy had,
up to that time, never seen nor heard of fire-arms; and when they saw
their comrades falling without being visibly struck, they immediately
yielded, thinking that the spirits of their forefathers were angry
with them, and spat fire out of their mouths. This, indeed, was the
result which had been anticipated by the bearers of the fire-arms in
question, for they thought that, if the enemy were intimidated by the
strange weapons, great loss of life would be saved on both sides. The
battle being over, the conquered tribe were subsidized as tributaries,
according to Tchaka’s custom, and all their cattle given up.
The success of this expedition incited Tchaka to repeat the experiment,
and his troops had hardly returned when he sent them off against a
chief named Sotshangana. This chief had a spy in the camp of Tchaka,
and no sooner had the army set off than the spy contrived to detach
himself from the troops, and went off at full speed to his master.
Sotshangana at once sent out messengers to see whether the spy had told
the truth, and when he learned that the Zulu army was really coming
upon him, he laid a trap into which the too confident enemy fell at
once. He withdrew his troops from his kraals, but left everything in
its ordinary position, so as to look as if no alarm had been taken.
The Zulu regiments, seeing no signs that their presence was expected,
took possession of the kraal, feasted on its provisions, and slept in
fancied security. But, at the dead of night, Sotshangana, accompanied
by the spy, whom he had rewarded with the command of a regiment, came
on the unsuspecting Zulus, fell upon them while sleeping, and cut one
regiment nearly to pieces. The others rallied, and drove off their
foes; but they were in an enemy’s country, where every hand was against
them.
Their wonderful discipline availed them little. They got no rest by day
or by night. They were continually harassed by attacks, sometimes of
outlying skirmishers, who kept them always on the alert, sometimes of
large forces of soldiers who had to be met in battle array. They could
obtain no food, for the whole country was against them, and the weaker
tribes, whom they attacked in order to procure provisions, drove their
cattle into the bush, and set fire to their own corn-fields. It is said
also, and with some likelihood of truth, that the water was poisoned
as well as the food destroyed; and the consequence was, that the once
victorious army was obliged to retreat as it best could, and the
shattered fragments at last reached their own country, after suffering
almost incredible hardships. It was in this campaign that the soldiers
were obliged to eat their shields. At least twenty thousand of the Zulu
warriors perished in this expedition, three-fourths having died from
privation, and the others fallen by the spears of the enemy.
What would have been Tchaka’s fury at so terrible a defeat may well
be imagined; but he never lived to see his conquered warriors. It is
supposed, and with some show of truth, that he had been instrumental
in causing the death of his own mother, Mnande. This word signifies
“amiable” or “pleasant,” in the Zulu tongue, and never was a name more
misapplied. She was violent, obstinate, and wilful to a degree, and
her son certainly inherited these traits of his mother’s character,
besides superadding a few of his own. She was the wife of the chief of
the Amazulu, then a small and insignificant tribe, who lived on the
banks of the White Folosi river, and behaved in such a manner that she
could not be kept in her husband’s kraal. It may be imagined that such
a mother and son were not likely to agree very well together; and when
the latter came to be a man, he was known to beat his mother openly,
without attempting to conceal the fact, but rather taking credit to
himself for it.
Therefore, when she died, her family had some good grounds for
believing that Tchaka had caused her to be killed, and determined on
revenge. Hardly had that ill-fated expedition set out, when two of her
sisters came to Dingan and Umhlangani, the brothers of Tchaka, and
openly accused him of having murdered Mnande, urging the two brothers
to kill him and avenge their mother’s blood. They adroitly mentioned
the absence of the army, and the terror in which every soldier held
his bloodthirsty king, and said that if, on the return of the army,
Tchaka was dead, the soldiers would be rejoiced at the death of the
tyrant, and would be sure to consider as their leaders the two men who
had freed them from such a yoke. The two brothers briefly answered, “Ye
have spoken!” but the women seemed to know that by those words the doom
of Tchaka was settled, and withdrew themselves, leaving their nephews
to devise their own plans for the murder of the king.
This was no easy business. They would have tried poison, but Tchaka was
much too wary to die such a death, and, as force was clearly useless,
they had recourse to treachery. They corrupted the favorite servant of
Tchaka, a man named Bopa, and having armed themselves with unshafted
heads of assagais, which could be easily concealed, they proceeded to
the king’s house, where he was sitting in conference with several of
his councillors, who were unarmed, according to Kaffir etiquette. The
treacherous Bopa began his task by rudely interrupting the councillors,
accusing them of telling falsehoods to the king, and behaving with an
amount of insolence to which he well knew they would not submit. As
they rose in anger, and endeavored to seize the man who had insulted
them, Dingan and Umhlangani stole behind Tchaka, whose attention was
occupied by the extraordinary scene, and stabbed him in the back. He
attempted to escape, but was again stabbed by Bopa, and fell dying to
the ground, where he was instantly slain. The affrighted councillors
tried to fly, but were killed by the same weapons that had slain their
master.
This dread scene was terminated by an act partly resulting from native
ferocity, and partly from superstition. The two murderers opened the
still warm body of their victim, and drank the gall. Their subsequent
quarrel, and the accession of Dingan to the throne, has already been
mentioned. The new king would probably have been murdered by the
soldiers on their return, had he not conciliated them by relaxing the
strict laws of celibacy which Tchaka had enforced, and by granting
indulgences of various kinds to the troops. As to the dead Mnande, the
proximate cause of Tchaka’s death, more will be said on a future page.
CHAPTER XIII.
HUNTING.
THE KAFFIR’S LOVE FOR THE CHASE -- THE GAME AND CLIMATE OF AFRICA --
THE ANTELOPES OF AFRICA -- HUNTING THE KOODOO -- USES OF THE HORNS --
A SCENE ON THE UMGENIE RIVER -- THE DUIKER-BOK AND ITS PECULIARITIES
-- ITS MODE OF ESCAPE AND TENACITY OF LIFE -- SINGULAR MODE OF
CONCEALMENT -- THE ELAND, ITS FLESH AND FAT -- CURIOUS SUPERSTITION
OF THE ZULU WARRIORS -- THIGH-TONGUES -- MODE OF HUNTING THE ELAND
-- THE GEMSBOK -- ITS INDIFFERENCE TO DRINK -- DIFFICULTY OF HUNTING
IT -- HOW THE GEMSBOK WIELDS ITS HORNS -- THEIR USES TO MAN -- MODES
OF TRAPPING AND DESTROYING ANTELOPES WHOLESALE -- THE HOPO, OR LARGE
PITFALL, ITS CONSTRUCTION AND MODE OF EMPLOYMENT -- EXCITING SCENE AT
THE HOPO -- PITFALLS FOR SINGLE ANIMALS -- THE STAKE AND THE RIDGE
-- THE GIRAFFE PITFALL -- HUNTING THE ELEPHANT -- USE OF THE DOGS --
BEST PARTS OF THE ELEPHANT -- HOW THE FOOT IS COOKED -- VORACITY OF
THE NATIVES -- GAME IN A “HIGH” CONDITION -- EXTRACTING THE TUSKS
AND TEETH -- CUTTING UP AN ELEPHANT -- FLESH, FAT, AND SKIN OF THE
RHINOCEROS -- SOUTH AFRICAN “HAGGIS” -- ASSAILING A HERD OF GAME
-- SLAUGHTER IN THE RAVINE -- A HUNTING SCENE IN KAFFIRLAND -- THE
“KLOOF” AND THE “BUSH” -- FALLS OF THE UMZIMVUBU RIVER -- HUNTING
DANCE -- CHASE OF THE LION AND ITS SANGUINARY RESULTS -- DINGAN’S
DESPOTIC MANDATE -- HUNTING THE BUFFALO.
Excepting war, there is no pursuit which is so engrossing to a Kaffir
as the chase; and whether he unites with a number of his comrades in
a campaign against his game, whether he pursues it singly, or whether
he entices it into traps, he is wholly absorbed in the occupation,
and pursues it with an enthusiasm to which a European is a stranger.
Indeed, in many cases, and certainly in most instances, where a
Kaffir is the hunter, the chase becomes a mimic warfare, which is
waged sometimes against the strong, and sometimes against the weak;
which opposes itself equally to the fierce activity of the lion, the
resistless force of the elephant, the speed of the antelope, and the
wariness of the zebra. The love of hunting is a necessity in such
a country, which fully deserves the well-known title of the “Happy
Hunting Grounds.” There is, perhaps, no country on earth where may be
found such a wonderful variety of game in so small a compass, and which
will serve to exercise, to the very utmost, every capacity for the
chase that mankind can possess.
Southern Africa possesses the swiftest, the largest, the heaviest,
the fiercest, the mightiest, and the tallest beasts in the world. The
lofty mountain, the reed-clad dell, the thorny bush, the open plain,
the river bank, and the very water itself, are filled with their proper
inhabitants, simply on account of the variety of soil, which always
produces a corresponding variety of inhabitants. The different kinds
of herbage attract and sustain the animals that are suited to them;
and were they to be extinct, the animals must follow in their wake.
The larger carnivora are in their turn attracted by the herbivorous
inhabitants of the country, and thus it happens that even a very slight
modification in the vegetation has altered the whole character of a
district. Mr. Moffatt has mentioned a curious instance of this fact.
He and his companions were in great jeopardy on account of a
disappointed “rain-maker.” The country had originally been even
remarkable for the quantity of rain which fell in it, and for its
consequent fertility. The old men said that their forefathers had told
them “of the floods of ancient times, the incessant showers which
clothed the very rocks with verdure, and the giant trees and forests
which once studded the brows of the Hamhana hills and neighboring
plains. They boasted of the Kuruman and other rivers, with their
impassable torrents, in which the hippopotami played, while the lowing
herds walked up to their necks in grass, filling their _makukas_
(milk-sacks) with milk, making every heart to sing for joy.”
That such tales were true was proved by the numerous stumps of huge
acacia-trees, that showed where the forest had stood, and by the dry
and parched ravines, which had evidently been the beds of rivers, and
clothed with vegetation. For the drought the missionaries were held
responsible, according to the invariable custom of the rain-makers, who
are only too glad to find something on which to shift the blame when
no rain follows their incantations. It was in vain that Mr. Moffatt
reminded them that the drought had been known long before a white man
set his foot on the soil. A savage African is, as a general rule,
impervious to dates, not even having the least idea of his own age, so
this argument failed utterly.
The real reason was evidently that which Mr. Moffatt detected, and
which he tried in vain to impress upon the inhabitants of the land.
They themselves, or rather their forefathers, were responsible for the
cessation of rain, and the consequent change from a fertile land into a
desert. For the sake of building their kraals and houses, they had cut
down every tree that their axes could fell, and those that defied their
rude tools they destroyed by fire. Now it is well known that trees,
especially when in full foliage, are very powerful agents in causing
rain, inasmuch as they condense the moisture floating in the air, and
cause it to fall to the earth, instead of passing by in suspension.
Every tree that is felled has some effect in reducing the quantity of
rain; and when a forest is levelled with the ground, the different
amount of rainfall becomes marked at once.
These tribes are inveterate destroyers of timber. When they wish to
establish themselves in a fresh spot, and build a new kraal, they
always station themselves close to the forest, or at all events to a
large thicket, which in the course of time is levelled to the ground,
the wood having been all used for building and culinary purposes. The
tribe then go off to another spot, and cut down more timber; and it is
to this custom that the great droughts of Southern Africa may partly be
attributed.
The game which inhabited the fallen forests is perforce obliged to
move into districts where the destructive axe has not been heard, and
the whole of those animals that require a continual supply of water
either die off for the want of it, or find their way into more favored
regions. This is specially the case with the antelopes, which form
the chief game of this land. Southern Africa absolutely teems with
antelopes, some thirty species of which are known to inhabit this
wonderful country. They are of all sizes, from the great elands and
koodoos, which rival our finest cattle in weight and stature, to the
tiny species which inhabit the bush, and have bodies scarcely larger
than if they were rabbits. Some of them are solitary, others may be
found in small parties, others unite in herds of incalculable numbers;
while there are several species that form associations, not only with
other species of their own group, but with giraffes, zebras, ostriches,
and other strange companions. Each kind must be hunted in some special
manner; and, as the antelopes are generally the wariest as well as the
most active of game, the hunter must be thoroughly acquainted with his
business before he can hope for success.
One of the antelopes which live in small parties is the koodoo, so
well known for its magnificent spiral horns. To Europeans the koodoo
is only interesting as being one of the most splendid of the antelope
tribe, but to the Kaffir it is almost as valuable an animal as the cow.
The flesh of the koodoo is well-flavored and tender, two qualities
which are exceedingly rare among South African antelopes. The marrow
taken from the leg bones is a great luxury with the Kaffirs, who are
so fond of it that when they kill a koodoo they remove the leg bones,
break them, and eat the marrow, not only without cooking, but while
it is still warm. Revolting as such a practice may seem to us, it has
been adopted even by English hunters, who have been sensible enough to
accommodate themselves to circumstances.
Then, its hide, although comparatively thin, is singularly tough,
and, when cut into narrow slips and properly manipulated, is used
for a variety of purposes which a thicker hide could not fulfil. The
toughness and strength of these thongs are really wonderful, and the
rapidity with which they are made scarcely less so. I have seen an
experienced skindresser cut a strip from a dried koodoo skin, and in
less than half a minute produce a long, delicate thong, about as thick
as ordinary whipcord, as pliant as silk, and beautifully rounded. I
have often thought that the much vexed question of the best leather
for boot-laces might be easily solved by the use of koodoo hide. Such
thongs would be expensive in the outset, but their lasting powers would
render them cheap in the long run.
The horns of the koodoo are greatly valued in this country, and command
a high price, on account of their great beauty. The Kaffirs, however,
value them even more than we do. They will allow the horns of the
eland to lie about and perish, but those of the koodoo they carefully
preserve for two special purposes,--namely, the forge and the smoking
party. Although a Kaffir blacksmith will use the horns of the domestic
ox, or of the eland, as tubes whereby the wind is conveyed from the
bellows to the fire, he very much prefers those of the koodoo, and, if
he should be fortunate enough to obtain a pair, he will lavish much
pains on making a handsome pair of bellows. He also uses the koodoo
horn in the manufacture of the remarkable water-pipe in which he smokes
dakka, or hemp. On page 167 may be seen a figure of a Kaffir engaged in
smoking a pipe made from the koodoo horn.
Like many other antelopes, the koodoo is a wary animal, and no small
amount of pains must be taken before the hunter can succeed in his
object. The koodoo is one of the antelopes that require water, and is
not like its relative, the eland, which never cares to drink, and which
contrives, in some mysterious manner, to be the largest, the fattest,
and the plumpest of all the antelope tribe, though it lives far from
water, and its principal food is herbage so dry that it can be rubbed
to powder between the hands.
* * * * *
Each of the antelopes has its separate wiles, and puts in practice a
different method of escape from an enemy. The pretty little Duiker-bok,
for example, jumps about here and there with an erratic series of
movements, reminding the sportsman of the behavior of a flushed snipe.
Suddenly it will stop, as if tired, and lie down in the grass; but
when the hunter comes to the spot, the animal has vanished. All the
previous movements were merely for the purpose of distracting the
attention of the hunter, and as soon as the little antelope crouched
down, it lowered its head and crawled away on its knees under cover
of the herbage. It is owing to this habit that the Dutch colonists
called it the Duiker, or Diver. This little antelope is found in long
grass, or among stunted bushes, and the wary Kaffir is sure to have
his weapons ready whenever he passes by a spot where he may expect to
find the Duyker, or Impoon, as he calls it. The creature is wonderfully
tenacious of life, and, even when mortally wounded, it will make its
escape from a hunter who does not know its peculiarities.
Other antelopes that inhabit grass and bush land have very ingenious
modes of concealing themselves. Even on the bare plain they will crouch
down in such odd attitudes that all trace of their ordinary outline is
gone, and they contrive to arrange themselves in such a manner that at
a little distance they much resemble a heap of withered grass and dead
sticks, the former being represented by their fur, and the latter by
their horns and limbs. An untrained eye would never discover one of
these animals, and novices in African hunting can seldom distinguish
the antelope even when it is pointed out to them.
Whenever a practised hunter sees an antelope crouching on the ground,
he may be sure that the animal is perfectly aware of his presence,
and is only watching for an opportunity to escape. If he were to go
directly toward it, or even to stop and look at it, the antelope would
know that it is detected, and would dart off while still out of range.
But an experienced hunter always pretends _not_ to have seen the
animal, and instead of approaching it in a direct line, walks round
and round the spot where it is lying, always coming nearer to his
object, but never taking any apparent notice of it. The animal is quite
bewildered by this mode of action, and cannot make up its mind what to
do. It is not sure that it has been detected; and therefore does not
like to run the risk of jumping up and openly betraying itself, and so
it only crouches closer to the ground until its enemy is within range.
The pretty antelope called the Ourebi is often taken in this manner.
Some antelopes cannot be taken in this manner. They are very wary
animals, and, when they perceive an enemy, they immediately gallop
off, and will go wonderful distances in an almost straight line.
One of these animals is the well-known eland, an antelope which, in
spite of its enormous size and great weight, is wonderfully swift and
active; and, although a large eland will be nearly six feet high at
the shoulders, and as largely built as our oxen, it will dash over
rough hilly places at a pace that no horse can for a time equal. But it
cannot keep up this pace for a very long time, as it becomes extremely
fat and heavy; and if it be continually hard pressed, and not allowed
to slacken its pace or to halt, it becomes so exhausted that it can be
easily overtaken. The usual plan in such cases is to get in front of
the tired eland, make it turn round, and thus drive it into the camping
spot, where it can be killed, so that the hunters save themselves the
trouble of carrying the meat to camp.
Eland hunting is always a favorite sport both with natives and white
men, partly because its flesh is singularly excellent, and partly
because a persevering chase is almost always rewarded with success.
To the native, the eland is of peculiar value, because it furnishes
an amount of meat which will feed them plentifully for several days.
Moreover, the flesh is always tender, a quality which does not
generally belong to South African venison. The Zulu warriors, however,
do not eat the flesh of the eland, being restrained by superstitious
motives.
Usually, when an antelope is killed, its flesh must either be eaten at
once, before the animal heat has left the body, or it must be kept for
a day or two, in order to free it from its toughness. But the flesh
of the eland can be eaten even within a few hours after the animal
has been killed. The hunters make a rather curious preparation from
the flesh of the eland. They take out separately the muscles of the
thighs, and cure them just as if they were tongues. These articles are
called “thigh-tongues,” and are useful on a journey when provisions are
likely to be scarce. Perhaps one of the greatest merits of the eland in
a Kaffir’s eyes is the enormous quantity of fat which it will produce
when in good condition. As has already been mentioned, fat is one of
the necessaries of life to a Kaffir, as well as one of the greatest
luxuries, and a bull eland in good condition furnishes a supply that
will make a Kaffir happy for a month.
There is another South African antelope, which, like the eland, runs in
a straight course when alarmed, but which, unlike the eland, is capable
of great endurance. This is the splendid gemsbok, an antelope which
is nearly as large as the eland, though not so massively built. This
beautiful antelope is an inhabitant of the dry and parched plains of
Southern Africa, and, like the eland, cares nothing for water, deriving
all the moisture which it needs from certain succulent roots of a
bulbous nature, which lie hidden in the soil, and which its instinct
teaches it to unearth. This ability to sustain life without the aid of
water renders its chase a very difficult matter, and the hunters, both
native and European, are often baffled, not so much by the speed and
endurance of the animal, as by the dry and thirsty plains through which
it leads them, and in which they can find no water. The spoils of the
gemsbok are therefore much valued, and its splendid horns will always
command a high price, even in its own country, while in Europe they are
sure of a sale.
The horns of this antelope are about three feet in length, and are
very slightly curved. The mode in which they are placed on the head is
rather curious. They are very nearly in a line with the forehead, so
that when the animal is at rest their tips nearly touch the back. Horns
thus set may be thought to be deprived of much of their capabilities,
but the gemsbok has a rather curious mode of managing these weapons.
When it desires to charge, or to receive the assaults of an enemy, it
stoops its head nearly to the ground, the nose passing between the
fore-feet. The horns are then directed toward the foe, their tips being
some eighteen or twenty inches from the ground. As soon as the enemy
comes within reach, the gemsbok turns its head strongly upward, and
impales the antagonist on its horns, which are so sharp that they seem
almost to have been pointed and polished by artificial means.
Dogs find the gemsbok to be one of their worst antagonists; for if they
succeed in bringing it to bay, it wields its horns with such swift
address that they cannot come within its reach without very great
danger. Even when the animal has received a mortal wound, and been
lying on the ground with only a few minutes of life in its body, it
has been known to sweep its armed head so fiercely from side to side
that it killed several of the dogs as they rushed in to seize the
fallen enemy, wounded others severely, and kept a clear space within
range of its horns. Except at certain seasons of the year, when the
gemsbok becomes very fat, and is in consequence in bad condition for
a long chase, the natives seldom try to pursue it, knowing that they
are certain to have a very long run, and that the final capture of the
animal is very uncertain.
As to those antelopes which gather themselves together in vast herds,
the South African hunter acts on very different principles, and uses
stratagem rather than speed or force. One of their most successful
methods of destroying the game wholesale is by means of the remarkable
trap called the Hopo. The hopo is, in fact, a very large pitfall, dug
out with great labor, and capable of holding a vast number of animals.
Trunks of trees are laid over it at each end, and a similar arrangement
is made at the sides, so that a kind of overlapping edge is given to
it, and a beast that has fallen into it cannot possibly escape. From
this pit two fences diverge, in a V-like form, the pit being the apex.
These fences are about a mile in length, and their extremities are a
mile, or even more, apart.
Many hundreds of hunters then turn out, and ingeniously contrive to
decoy or drive the herd of game into the treacherous space between
the fences. They then form themselves into a cordon across the open
end of the V, and advance slowly, so as to urge the animals onward. A
miscellaneous company of elands, hartebeests, gnoos, zebras, and other
animals, is thus driven nearer and nearer to destruction. Toward the
angle of the V, the fence is narrowed into a kind of lane or passage,
some fifty yards in length, and is made very strongly, so as to prevent
the affrighted animals from breaking through. When a number of them
have fairly entered the passage, the hunters dash forward, yelling at
the full stretch of their powerful voices, brandishing their shields
and assagais, and so terrifying the doomed animals that they dash
blindly forward, and fall into the pit. It is useless for those in
front to recoil when they see their danger, as they are pushed onward
by their comrades, and in a few minutes the pit is full of dead and
dying animals. Many of the herd escape when the pit is quite full, by
passing over the bodies of their fallen companions, but enough are
taken to feast the whole tribe for a considerable time. Those on the
outskirts of the herd often break wildly away, and try to make their
escape through the cordon of armed hunters. Many of them succeed in
their endeavors, but others fall victims to the assagais which are
hurled at them upon all sides.
Even such large game as the giraffe, the buffalo, and the rhinoceros
have been taken in this ingenious and most effective trap. Dr.
Livingstone mentions that the small sub-tribe called the Bakawas took
from sixty to seventy head of cattle per week in the various hopos
which they constructed.
The animated scene which takes place at one of these hunts is well
described by Mr. H. H. Methuen, in his “Life in the Wilderness.”
After mentioning the pitfall and the two diverging fences, between
which a herd of quaggas had been enclosed, he proceeds as follows:
“Noises thickened round me, and men rushed past, their skin cloaks
streaming in the wind, till, from their black naked figures and wild
gestures, it wanted no Martin to imagine a Pandemonium. I pressed hard
upon the flying animals, and galloping down the lane, saw the pits
choke-full; while several of the quaggas, noticing their danger, turned
upon me, ears back, and teeth showing, compelling me to retreat with
equal celerity from them. Some natives standing in the lane made the
fugitives run the gauntlet with their assagais. As each quagga made a
dash at them, they pressed their backs into the hedge, and held their
hard ox-hide shields in his face, hurling their spears into his side as
he passed onward. One managed to burst through the hedge and escape;
the rest fell pierced with assagais, like so many porcupines. Men are
often killed in these hunts, when buffaloes turn back in a similar way.
“It was some little time before Bari and I could find a gap in the
hedge and get round to the pits, but at length we found one, and then a
scene exhibited itself which baffles description. So full were the pits
that many animals had run over the bodies of their comrades, and got
free. Never can I forget that bloody, murderous spectacle; a moaning,
wriggling mass of quaggas, huddled and jammed together in the most
inextricable confusion; some were on their backs, with their heels up,
and others lying across them; some had taken a dive and only displayed
their tails; all lay interlocked like a bucketful of eels. The savages,
frantic with excitement, yelled round them, thrusting their assagais
with smiles of satisfaction into the upper ones, and leaving them to
suffocate those beneath, evidently rejoicing in the agony of their
victims. Moseleli, the chief, was there in person, and after the lapse
of half an hour, the poles at the entrance of the pits being removed,
the dead bodies, in all the contortions and stiffness of death, were
drawn out by hooked stakes secured through the main sinew of the neck,
a rude song, with extemporary words, being chanted the while.”
The narrator mentions that out of one pit, only twelve feet square and
six deep, he saw twenty “quaggas” extracted.
Sometimes pitfalls are constructed for the reception of single
animals, such as the elephant, the hippopotamus, and the rhinoceros.
These are made chiefly in two modes. The pitfalls which are intended
for catching the three last mentioned animals are tolerably large, but
not very deep, because the size and weight of the prisoners prevent
them from making their escape. Moreover, a stout stake, some five feet
or more in length, and sharpened at the top, is placed in the middle
of the pit, so that the animal falls upon it and is impaled. The pits
are neatly covered with sticks, leaves, and earth, so ingeniously
disposed that they look exactly like the surface of the ground, and are
dangerous, not only to the beasts which they are intended to catch, but
to men and horses. So many accidents have happened by means of these
pits, that when a traveller goes from one district to another he sends
notice of his coming, so that all the pitfalls that lie in his way may
be opened.
Elephants are, of course, the most valuable game that can be taken in
these traps, because their tusks can be sold at a high price, and their
flesh supplies a vast quantity of meat. As the elephant is a terrible
enemy to their cornfields and storehouses, the natives are in the habit
of guarding the approaches by means of these pitfalls, and at first
find their stratagem totally successful. But the elephants are so
crafty that they soon learn caution from the fate of their comrades,
and it is as difficult to catch an elephant in a pitfall as it is to
catch an old rat in a trap. Having been accustomed to such succulent
repasts, the elephants do not like to give up their feasts altogether,
and proceed on their nocturnal expeditions much as usual. But some of
the oldest and wariest of the herd go in front, and when they come
near the cultivated ground, they beat the earth with their trunks, not
venturing a step until they have ascertained that their footing is
safe. As soon as they come to a pitfall, the hollow sound warns them
of danger. They instantly stop, tear the covering of the pitfall to
pieces, and, having thus unmasked it, proceed on their way.
The pitfall which is made for the giraffe is constructed on a different
principle. Owing to the exceedingly long limbs of the animal, it is dug
at least ten feet in depth. But, instead of being a mere pit, a wall
or bank of earth is left in the middle, about seven feet in height,
and shaped much like the letter A. As soon as the giraffe tumbles into
the pit, its fore and hind legs fall on opposite sides of the wall, so
that the animal is balanced on its belly, and wastes its strength in
plunging about in hopes of finding a foothold.
Sometimes a number of Kaffirs turn out for the purpose of elephant
hunting. By dint of the wary caution which they can always exercise
when in pursuit of game, they find out the animal which possesses the
finest tusks, and mark all his peculiarities; they then watch the spot
where he treads, and, by means of a lump of soft clay, they take an
impression of his footmarks. The reason for doing so is simple enough,
viz. that if they should have to chase him, they may not run the risk
of confounding his footmarks with those of other elephants. The sole
of every elephant’s foot is traversed by a number of indented lines,
and in no two specimens are these lines alike. The clay model of the
footprints serves them as a guide whereby they may assure themselves
that they are on the right track whenever they come to the neighborhood
of water, where the ground is soft, and where the footprints of many
elephants are sure to be found. Their next endeavor is to creep near
enough to the elephant to inflict a severe wound upon it, an object
which is generally attained by a number of the dark hunters gliding
among the trees, and simultaneously hurling their spears at the
unsuspecting animal. The wounded elephant is nearly certain to charge
directly at the spot from which he fancies that the assault has been
made, and his shriek of mingled rage and alarm is sure to cause the
rest of the herd to rush off in terror. The hunters then try by various
stratagems to isolate the wounded animal from its comrades, and to
prevent him from rejoining them, while at every opportunity fresh
assagais are thrown, and the elephant is never permitted to rest.
As a wounded elephant always makes for the bush, it would be quite safe
from white hunters, though not so from the lithe and naked Kaffirs,
who glide through the underwood and between the trees faster than the
elephant can push its way through them. Every now and then it will turn
and charge madly at its foes, but it expends its strength in vain, as
they escape by nimbly jumping behind trees, or, in critical cases, by
climbing up them, knowing that an elephant never seems to comprehend
that a foe can be anywhere but on the ground.
In this kind of chase they are much assisted by their dogs, which
bark incessantly at the animal, and serve to distract its attention
from the hunters. It may seem strange that so huge an animal as the
elephant should be in the least impeded by such small creatures as
dogs, which, even if he stood still and allowed them to bite his legs
to their hearts’ content, could make no impression on the thick and
tough skin which defends them. But the elephant has a strange terror
of small animals, and especially dreads the dog, so that, when it
is making up its mind to charge in one direction, the barking of a
contemptible little cur will divert it from its purpose, and enable its
intended victim either to secure himself behind a tree, or to become
the assailant, and add another spear to the number that are already
quivering in the animal’s vast body.
The slaughter of an elephant by this mode of hunting is always a long
and a cruel process. Even when the hunters are furnished with the best
fire-arms, a number of wounds are generally inflicted before it dies,
the exceptional case, when it falls dead at the first shot, being
very rare indeed. Now, however powerful may be the practised aim of a
Kaffir, and sharp as may be his weapon, he cannot drive it through the
inch-thick hide into a vital part, and the consequence is that the poor
animal is literally worried to death by a multitude of wounds, singly
insignificant, but collectively fatal. At last the huge victim falls
under the loss of blood, and great are the rejoicings if it should
happen to sink down in its ordinary kneeling posture, as the tusks
can then be extracted with comparative ease, and the grove of spears
planted in its body can be drawn out entire; whereas, when the elephant
falls on one side, all the spears upon that side are shattered to
pieces, and every one must be furnished with a new shaft.
The first proceeding is to cut off the tail, which is valued as a
trophy, and the next is to carve upon the tusks the mark of the hunter
to whom they belong, and who is always the man who inflicted the first
wound. The next proceeding is to cut a large hole in one side, into
which a number of Kaffirs enter, and busy themselves by taking out the
most valuable parts of the animal. The inner membrane of the skin is
saved for water-sacks, which are made in a very primitive manner, a
large sheet of the membrane being gathered together, and a sharp stick
thrust through the corners. The heart is then taken out, cut into
convenient pieces, and each portion wrapped in a piece of the ear. If
the party can encamp for the night on the spot, they prepare a royal
feast, by baking one or two of the feet in the primitive but most
effective oven which is in use, not only in Southern Africa, but in
many other parts of the world.
A separate oven is made for each foot, and formed as follows:--A hole
is dug in the ground, considerably larger than the foot which is to
be cooked, and a fire is built in it. As soon as it burns up, a large
heap of dry wood is piled upon it, and suffered to burn down. When the
heap is reduced to a mass of glowing ashes, the Kaffirs scrape out the
embers by means of a long pole, each man taking his turn to run to the
hole, scrape away until he can endure the heat no longer, and then run
away again, leaving the pole for his successor. The hole being freed
from embers, the foot is rolled into it, and covered with green leaves
and twigs. The hot earth and embers are then piled over the hole, and
another great bonfire lighted. As soon as the wood has entirely burned
itself out, the operation of baking is considered as complete, and the
foot is lifted out by several men furnished with long sharpened poles.
By means of this remarkable oven the meat is cooked more thoroughly
than could be achieved in any oven of more elaborate construction,
the whole of the tendons, the fat, the immature bone, and similar
substances being converted into a gelatinous mass, which the African
hunter seems to prefer to all other dishes, excepting, perhaps, the
marrow taken from the leg bones of the giraffe or eland.
Sometimes the trunk is cut into thick slices, and baked at the same
time with the feet. Although this part of the elephant may not be
remarkable for the excellence of its flavor, it has, at all events,
the capability of being made tender by cooking, which is by no means
the case with the meat that is usually obtained from the animals
which inhabit Southern Africa. Even the skull itself is broken up for
the sake of the oily fat which fills the honeycomb-like cells which
intervene between the plates of the skull. The rest of the meat is
converted into “biltongue,” by cutting it into strips and drying it in
the sun, as has already been described. As a general rule, the Kaffirs
do not like to leave an animal until they have dried or consumed the
whole of the meat. Under the ready spears and powerful jaws of the
natives, even an elephant is soon reduced to a skeleton, as may be
imagined from the fact that five Kaffirs can eat a buffalo in a day and
a half.
The skull and tusks can generally be left on the spot for some time,
as the hunters respect each other’s marks, and will not, as a rule,
take the tusks from an elephant that has been killed and marked by
another. The object in allowing the head to remain untouched is, that
putrefaction may take place, and render the task of extracting the
tusks easier than is the case when they are taken out at once. It
must be remembered that the tusks of an elephant are imbedded in the
skull for a considerable portion of their length, and that the only
mode of extracting them is by chopping away their thick, bony sockets,
which is a work of much time and labor. However, in that hot climate
putrefaction takes place very readily, and by the time that the hunters
have finished the elephant the tusks can be removed. Sometimes the
flesh becomes more than “high,” but the Kaffirs, and indeed all African
savages, seem rather to prefer certain meats when in the incipient
stage of putrefaction.
Careless of the future as are the natives of Southern Africa, they are
never wasteful of food, and, unlike the aborigines of North America,
they seldom, if ever, allow the body of a slain animal to become the
prey of birds and beasts. They will eat in two days the food that
ought to serve them for ten, and will nearly starve themselves to
death during the remaining eight days of famine, but they will never
throw away anything that can by any possibility be eaten. Even the
very blood is not wasted. If a large animal, such as a rhinoceros, be
killed, the black hunters separate the ribs from the spine, as the dead
animal lies on its side, and by dint of axe blades, assagai heads, and
strong arms, soon cut a large hole in the side. Into this hole the
hunters straightway lower themselves, and remove the intestines of the
animal, passing them to their comrades outside, who invert them, tie up
the end, and return them. By this time a great quantity of blood has
collected, often reaching above the ankles of the hunters. This blood
they ladle with their joined hands into the intestines, and so contrive
to make black puddings on a gigantic scale.
The flesh of the rhinoceros is not very tempting. That of an old animal
is so very tough and dry that scarcely any one except a native can
eat it; and even that of the young animal is only partly eatable by a
white man. When a European hunter kills a young rhinoceros, he takes a
comparatively small portion of it,--namely, the hump, and a layer of
fat and flesh which lies between the skin and the ribs. The remainder
he abandons to his native assistants, who do not seem to care very much
whether meat be tough or tender, so long as it is meat. The layer of
fat and lean on the ribs is only some two inches in thickness, so that
the attendants have the lion’s share, as far as quantity is concerned.
Quality they leave to the more fastidious taste of the white man.
The intestines of animals are greatly valued by the native hunters,
who laugh at white men for throwing them away. They state that, even
as food, the intestines are the best parts of the animal, and those
Europeans who have had the moral courage to follow the example of
the natives have always corroborated their assertion. The reader may
perhaps remember that the backwoodsmen of America never think of
rejecting these dainty morsels, but have an odd method of drawing them
slowly through the fire, and thus eating them as fast as they are
cooked. Moreover, the intestines, as well as the paunch, are always
useful as water-vessels. This latter article, when it is taken from a
small animal, is always reserved for cooking purposes, being filled
with scraps of meat, fat, blood, and other ingredients, and then
cooked. Scotch travellers have compared this dish to the “haggis” of
their native land.
The illustration opposite represents the wild and animated scene which
accompanies the death of an elephant. Some two or three hours are
supposed to have elapsed since the elephant was killed, and the chief
has just arrived at the spot. He is shown seated in the foreground,
his shield and assagais stacked behind him, while his page is holding
a cup of beer, and two of his chief men are offering him the tusks of
the elephant. In the middle distance are seen the Kaffirs preparing the
oven for the reception of the elephant’s foot. Several men are seen
engaged in raking out the embers from the hole, shielding themselves
from the heat by leafy branches of trees, while one of the rakers has
just left his post, being scorched to the utmost limit of endurance,
and is in the act of handing over his pole to a comrade who is about to
take his place at the fire.
[Illustration: COOKING ELEPHANT’S FOOT. (See page 132.)]
Two more Kaffirs are shown in the act of rolling the huge foot to
the oven, and strips of the elephant’s flesh are seen suspended from
the boughs in order to be converted into “biltongue.” It is a rather
remarkable fact that this simple process of cutting the meat into
strips and drying it in the air has the effect of rendering several
unsavory meats quite palatable, taking away the powerful odors which
deter even a Kaffir, and much more a white man, from eating them in a
fresh state.
In the extreme distance is seen the nearly demolished body of the
elephant, at which a couple of Kaffirs are still at work. It may here
be mentioned that after an elephant is killed, the Kaffirs take very
great pains about making the first incision into the body. The carcass
of the slain animal generally remains on the ground for an hour or two
until the orders of the chief can be received; and even in that brief
space of time the hot African sun produces a partial decomposition, and
causes the body of the animal to swell by reason of the quantity of
gas which is generated. The Kaffir who takes upon himself the onerous
task of making the first incision chooses his sharpest and weightiest
assagai, marks the direction of the wind, selects the best spot for the
operation, and looks carefully round to see that the coast is clear.
Having made all his preparations, he hurls his weapon deeply into the
body of the elephant, and simultaneously leaps aside to avoid the
result of the stroke, the enclosed gas escaping with a loud report, and
pouring out in volumes of such singularly offensive odor that even the
nostrils of a Kaffir are not proof against it.
I have more than once witnessed a somewhat similar scene when engaged
in the pursuit of comparative anatomy, the worst example being that of
a lion which had been dead some three or four weeks, and which was,
in consequence, swollen out of all shape. We fastened tightly all the
windows which looked upon the yard in which the body of the animal was
lying, and held the door ready to be closed at a moment’s notice. The
adventurous operator armed himself with a knife and a lighted pipe,
leaned well to the opposite side of the animal, delivered his stab,
and darted back to the door, which was instantly closed. The result
of the operation was very much like that which has been mentioned when
performed on the elephant, though on a smaller scale, and in a minute
or so the lion was reduced to its ordinary size.
Sometimes a great number of hunters unite for the purpose of assailing
one of the vast herds of animals which have already been mentioned.
In this instance, they do not resort to the pitfall, but attack the
animals with their spears. In order to do so effectually, they divide
themselves into two parties, one of which, consisting chiefly of the
younger men, and led by one or two of the old and experienced hunters,
sets off toward the herd, while the others, armed with a large supply
of assagais and kerries, proceed to one of the narrow and steep-sided
ravines which are so common in Southern Africa. (See engraving No. 2,
p. 121.)
The former party proceed very cautiously, availing themselves of
every cover, and being very careful to manœuvre so as to keep on the
leeward side of the herd, until they have fairly placed the animals
between themselves and the ravine. Meanwhile, sentries are detached at
intervals, whose duty it is to form a kind of lane toward the ravine,
and to prevent the herd from taking a wrong course. When all the
arrangements are completed, the hunters boldly show themselves in the
rear of the animals, who immediately move forward in a body--not very
fast at first, because they are not quite sure whether they are going
to be attacked. As they move along, the sentinels show themselves at
either side, so as to direct them toward the ravine; and when the van
of the herd has entered, the remainder are sure to follow.
Then comes a most animated and stirring scene. Knowing that when the
leaders of the herd have entered the ravine, the rest are sure to
follow, the driving party rushes forward with loud yells, beating their
shields, and terrifying the animals to such a degree that they dash
madly forward in a mixed concourse of antelopes, quaggas, giraffes,
and often a stray ostrich or two. Thick and fast the assagais rain
upon the affrighted animals as they try to rush out of the ravine, but
when they reach the end they find their exit barred by a strong party
of hunters, who drive them back with shouts and spears. Some of them
charge boldly at the hunters, and make their escape, while others rush
back again through the kloof, hoping to escape by the same way as they
had entered. This entrance is, however, guarded by the driving party,
and so the wretched animals are sent backward and forward along this
deadly path until the weapons of their assailants are exhausted, and
the survivors are allowed to escape.
These “kloofs” form as characteristic features of Southern Africa as do
the table mountains. They have been well defined as the re-entering
elbows or fissures in a range of hills; and it is a remarkable fact
that the kloof is mostly clothed with thick bush, whatever may be
the character of the surrounding country. In Colonel E. Napier’s
“Excursions in Southern Africa,” there is so admirable a description
of the kloof and the bush that it must be given in the language of the
writer, who has drawn a most perfect word-picture of South African
scenery:--
“The character of the South African ‘bush’ has features quite peculiar
in itself, and sometimes unites--while strongly contrasting--the grand
and sublime with the grotesque and ridiculous. When seen afar from a
commanding elevation--the undulating sea of verdure extending for miles
and miles, with a bright sun shining on a green, compact, unbroken
surface--it conveys to the mind of a spectator naught save images of
repose, peace, and tranquillity. He forgets that, like the hectic
bloom of a fatal malady, these smiling seas of verdure often in their
entangled depths conceal treacherous, death-dealing reptiles, ferocious
beasts of prey, and the still more dangerous, though no less crafty,
and more cruel Kaffir.
“On a nearer approach, dark glens and gloomy kloofs are found to fence
the mountain sides. These often merge downward into deep ravines,
forming at their base sometimes the bed of a clear, gurgling brook,
or that of a turbid, raging torrent, generally shadowed and overhung
by abundant vegetation, in all the luxuriance of tropical growth and
profusion. Noble forest trees, entwined with creepers, encircled by
parasitical plants and with long gray mantles of lichen, loosely
and beardlike floating from their spreading limbs, throw the ‘brown
horrors’ of a shadowy gloom o’er the dark, secluded, Druidical-looking
dells. But jabbering apes, or large, satyr-like baboons, performing
grotesque antics and uttering unearthly yells, grate strangely on the
ear, and sadly mar the solemnity of the scene; whilst lofty, leafless,
and fantastic euphorbia, like huge candelabra, shoot up in bare
profusion from the gray, rocky cliffs, pointing as it were in mockery
their skeleton arms at the dark and luxuriant foliage around. Other
plants of the cactus and milky tribes--of thorny, rugged, or smooth
and fleshy kinds--stretch forth in every way their bizarre, misshapen
forms; waving them to the breeze, from yon high, beetling crags,
so thickly clothed to their very base with graceful nojebooms, and
drooping, palm-like aloes; whose tall, slender, and naked stems spring
up from amidst the dense verdure of gay and flowering mimosas.
“Emerging from such darksome glens to the more sunny side of the
mountain’s brow, there we still find an impenetrable bush, but
differing in character from what we have just described--a sort of
high, thorny underwood, composed chiefly of the mimosa and portulacacia
tribe; taller, thicker, more impenetrable, and of more rigid texture
than even the tiger’s accustomed lair in the far depths of an Indian
jungle; but, withal, so mixed and mingled with luxuriant, turgid,
succulent plants and parasites, as--even during the dryest weather--to
be totally impervious to the destroying influence of fire.
“The bush is, therefore, from its impassable character, the Kaffir’s
never-failing place of refuge, both in peace and war. In his naked
hardihood, he either, snake-like, twines through and creeps beneath its
densest masses, or, shielded with the kaross, securely defies their
most thorny and abrading opposition. Under cover of the bush, in _war_,
he, panther-like, steals upon his foe; in _peace_, upon the farmer’s
flock. Secure, in both instances, from pursuit, he can in the bush set
European power, European skill, and European discipline at naught;
and hitherto, vain has been every effort to destroy by fire this, his
impregnable--for it is impregnable to all save himself--stronghold.”
After a successful hunt, such as has just been described, there are
great rejoicings, the chief of the tribe having all the slaughtered
game laid before him, and giving orders for a grand hunting dance. The
chief, who is generally too fat to care about accompanying the hunters,
takes his seat in some open space, mostly the central enclosure of
a kraal, and there, in company with a huge bowl of beer and a few
distinguished guests, awaits the arrival of the game. The animals have
hardly fallen before they are carried in triumph to the chief, and laid
before him. As each animal is placed on the ground, a little Kaffir boy
comes and lays himself over his body, remaining in this position until
the dance is over. This curious custom is adopted from an idea that it
prevents sorcerers from throwing their spells upon the game. The boys
who are employed for this purpose become greatly disfigured by the
blood of the slain animals, but they seem to think that the gory stains
are ornamental rather than the reverse.
At intervals, the hunting dance takes place, the hunters arranging
themselves in regular lines, advancing and retreating with the
precision of trained soldiers, shouting, leaping, beating their
shields, brandishing their weapons, and working themselves up to a
wonderful pitch of excitement. The leader of the dance, who faces them,
is, if possible, even more excited than the men, and leaps, stamps, and
shouts with an energy that seems to be almost maniacal. Meanwhile, the
chief sits still, and drinks his beer, and signifies occasionally his
approval of the dancers.
Besides those animals which the Kaffir kills for food, there are others
which he only attacks for the sake of their trophies, such as the
skin, claws, and teeth. The mode adopted in assailing the fierce and
active beasts, such as the lion, is very remarkable. Each man furnishes
himself, in addition to his usual weapons, with an assagai, to the
but-end of which is attached a large bunch of ostrich feathers, looking
very much like the feather brushes with which ladies dust delicate
furniture. They then proceed to the spot where the lion is to be found,
and spread themselves so as to make a circle round him. The lion is
at first rather disquieted at this proceeding, and, according to his
usual custom, tries to slip off unseen. When, however, he finds that
he cannot do so, and that the circle of enemies is closing on him, he
becomes angry, turns to bay, and with menacing growls announces his
intention of punishing the intruders on his domain. One of them then
comes forward, and incites the lion to charge him, and as soon as the
animal’s attention is occupied by one object, the hunters behind him
advance, and hurl a shower of assagais at him. With a terrible roar the
lion springs at the bold challenger, who sticks his plumed assagai into
the ground, leaping at the same time to one side. In his rage and pain,
the lion does not at the moment comprehend the deception, and strikes
with his mighty paw at the bunch of ostrich plumes, which he takes for
the feather-decked head of his assailant. Finding himself baffled, he
turns round, and leaps on the nearest hunter, who repeats the same
process; and as at every turn the furious animal receives fresh wounds,
he succumbs at last to his foes.
It is seldom that in such an affray the hunters come off scathless. The
least hesitation in planting the plumed spear and leaping aside entails
the certainty of a severe wound, and the probability of death. But, as
the Kaffirs seldom engage in such a hunt without the orders of their
chief, and are perfectly aware that failure to execute his commands
is a capital offence, it is better for them to run the risk of being
swiftly killed by the lion’s paw than cruelly beaten to death by the
king’s executioners.
That sanguinary monarch, Dingan, used occasionally to send a detachment
with orders to catch a lion alive, and bring it to him. They executed
this extraordinary order much in the same manner as has been related.
But they were almost totally unarmed, having no weapons but their
shields and kerries, and, as soon as the lion was induced to charge,
the bold warriors threw themselves upon him in such numbers that they
fairly overwhelmed him, and brought him into the presence of Dingan,
bound and gagged, though still furious with rage, and without a wound.
Of course, several soldiers lost their lives in the assault, but
neither their king nor their comrades seemed to think that anything out
of the ordinary course of things had been done. On one occasion, Dingan
condescended to play a practical joke upon his soldiers.
A traveller had gone to see him, and had turned loose his horse, which
was quietly grazing at a distance. At that time horses had not been
introduced among the Kaffirs, and many of the natives had never even
seen such an animal as a horse. It so happened that among the soldiers
that surrounded Dingan were some who had come from a distant part of
the country, and who were totally unacquainted with horses. Dingan
called them to him, and pointing to the distant horse, told them to
bring him that lion alive. They instantly started off, and, as usual,
one stood in advance to tempt the animal to charge, while the others
closed in upon the supposed lion, in order to seize it when it had made
its leap. They soon discovered their mistake, and came back looking
very foolish, to the great delight of their chief.
The buffalo is, however, a more terrible foe than the lion itself, as
it will mostly take the initiative, and attack before its presence
is suspected. Its habit of living in the densest and darkest thicket
renders it a peculiarly dangerous animal, as it will dash from its
concealment upon any unfortunate man who happens to pass near its lair;
and as its great weight and enormously solid horns enable it to rush
through the bush much faster than even a Kaffir can glide among the
matted growths, there is but small chance of escape. Weapons are but
of little use when a buffalo is in question, as its armed front is
scarcely pervious to a rifle ball, and perfectly impregnable against
such weapons as the Kaffir’s spear, and the suddenness of the attack
gives but little time for escape.
As the Kaffirs do not particularly care for its flesh, though of
course they will eat it when they can get nothing better, they will
hunt the animal for the sake of its hide, from which they make the
strongest possible leather. The hide is so tough that, except at close
quarters, a bullet which has not been hardened by the admixture of some
other metal will not penetrate it. Sometimes the Kaffir engages very
unwillingly in war with this dangerous beast, being attacked unawares
when passing near its haunts. Under these circumstances the man makes
for the nearest tree, and if he can find time to ascend it he is safe
from the ferocious brute, who would only be too glad to toss him in the
air first, and then to pound his body to a jelly by trampling on him.
CHAPTER XIV.
AGRICULTURE.
DIVISION OF LABOR -- HOW LAND IS PREPARED FOR SEED -- CLEARING THE
LAND AND BREAKING UP THE GROUND -- EXHAUSTIVE SYSTEM OF AGRICULTURE
-- CROPS CULTIVATED BY KAFFIRS -- THE STAFF OF LIFE -- WATCH-TOWERS
AND THEIR USES -- KEEPING OFF THE BIRDS -- ENEMIES OF THE CORN-FIELD
-- THE CHACMA AND ITS DEPREDATIONS -- THE BABIANA ROOT -- USES OF THE
CHACMA -- THE HIPPOPOTAMUS AND ITS DESTRUCTIVE POWERS -- THE ELEPHANT
-- SINGULAR PLAN OF TERRIFYING IT -- ANTELOPES, BUFFALOES, AND WILD
SWINE -- ELABORATE FORTIFICATION -- BIRD KILLING -- THE LOCUST --
CURIOUS KAFFIR LEGEND -- FRUITS CULTIVATED BY THE KAFFIR -- FORAGE
FOR CATTLE -- BURNING THE BUSH AND ITS RESULTS.
As by the chase the Kaffirs obtain the greater part of their animal
food, so by agriculture they procure the chief part of their vegetable
nourishment. The task of providing food is divided between the two
sexes, the women not being permitted to take part in the hunt, nor
to meddle with the cows, while the men will not contaminate their
warrior hands with the touch of an agricultural implement. They have
no objection to use edge-tools, such as the axe, and will cut down the
trees and brushwood which may be in the way of cultivation; but they
will not carry a single stick off the ground, nor help the women to dig
or clear the soil.
When a new kraal is built, the inhabitants look out for a convenient
spot in the immediate neighborhood, where they may cultivate the
various plants that form the staple of South African produce. As a
general rule, ground is of two kinds, namely, bush and open ground,
the former being the more fertile, and the latter requiring less
trouble in clearing. The experienced agriculturist invariably prefers
the former, although it costs him a little more labor at first, and
although the latter is rather more inviting at first sight. This
favorable impression soon vanishes upon a closer inspection, for, as
a general rule, where it is not sandy, it is baked so hard by the sun
that a plough would have no chance against it, and even the heavy picks
with which the women work cannot make an impression without much labor.
Moreover, it requires much more water than is supplied from natural
sources, and, even when well moistened, is not very remarkable for its
fertility. Bush land is of a far better quality, and is prepared for
agriculture as follows:--
The men set to work with their little axes, and chop down all the
underwood and small trees, leaving the women to drag the fallen
branches out of the space intended for the field or garden. Large
trees they cannot fell with their imperfect instruments, and so they
are obliged to content themselves with cutting off as many branches as
possible, and then bringing the tree down by means of fire. The small
trees and branches that are felled are generally arranged round the
garden, so as to form a defence against the numerous enemies which
assail the crops. The task of building this fence belongs to the men,
and when they have completed it their part of the work is done, and
they leave the rest to the women.
Furnished with the heavy and clumsy hoe, the woman breaks up the
ground by sheer manual labor, and manages, in her curious fashion, to
combine digging and sowing in one operation. Besides her pick, laid
over her shoulder, and possibly a baby slung on her back, she carries
to the field a large basket of seed balanced on her head. When she
arrives at the scene of her labors, she begins by scattering the seed
broadcast over the ground, and then pecks up the earth with her hoe
to a depth of some three or four inches. The larger roots and grass
tufts are then picked out by hand and removed, but the smaller are not
considered worthy of special attention. This constitutes the operation
of sowing, and in a wonderfully short time a mixed crop of corn and
weeds shoots up. When both are about a month old, the ground is again
hoed, and the weeds are then pulled up and destroyed. Owing to the very
imperfect mode of cultivation, the soil produces uncertain results, the
corn coming up thickly and rankly in some spots, while in others not
a blade of corn has made its appearance. When the Kaffir chooses the
open ground for his garden, he does not always trouble himself to build
a fence, but contents himself with marking out and sowing a patch of
ground, trusting to good fortune that it may not be devastated by the
numerous foes with which a Kaffir’s garden is sure to be infested.
The Kaffir seems to have very little idea of artificial irrigation, and
none at all of renovating the ground by manure. Irrigation he leaves to
the natural showers, and, beyond paying a professional “rain-maker” to
charm the clouds for him, he takes little, if any, trouble about this
important branch of agriculture. As to manuring soil, he is totally
ignorant of such a proceeding, although the herds of cattle which are
kept in every kraal would enable him to render his cultivated land
marvellously fertile. The fact is, land is so plentiful that when one
patch of it is exhausted he leaves it, and goes to another; and for
this reason, abandoned gardens are very common, their position being
marked out by remnants of the fence which encircled them, and by the
surviving maize or pumpkin plants which have contrived to maintain an
unassisted existence.
Four or five gardens are often to be seen round a kraal, each situated
so as to suit some particular plant. Various kinds of crops are
cultivated by the Kaffirs, the principal being maize, millet, pumpkins,
and a kind of spurious sugar-cane in great use throughout Southern
Africa, and popularly known by the name of “sweet reed.” The two former
constitute, however, the necessaries of life, the latter belonging
rather to the class of luxuries. The maize, or, as it is popularly
called when the pods are severed from the stem, “mealies,” is the very
staff of life to a Kaffir, as it is from the mealies that is made the
thick porridge on which the Kaffir chiefly lives. If an European hire a
Kaffir, whether as guide, servant, or hunter, he is obliged to supply
him with a stipulated quantity of food, of which the maize forms the
chief ingredient. Indeed, so long as the native of Southern Africa can
get plenty of porridge and sour milk, he is perfectly satisfied with
his lot. When ripe, the ears of maize are removed from the stem, the
leafy envelope is stripped off, and they are hung in pairs over sticks
until they are dry enough to be taken to the storehouse.
A watch-tower is generally constructed in these gardens, especially if
they are of considerable size. The tower is useful for two reasons: it
enables the watcher to see to a considerable distance, and acts as a
protection against the wild boars and other enemies which are apt to
devastate the gardens, especially if they are not guarded by a fence,
or if the fence should be damaged. If the spot be unfenced, a guard
is kept on it day and night, but a properly defended garden needs no
night watchers except in one or two weeks of the year. The watch-tower
is very simply made. Four stout poles are fixed firmly in the ground,
and a number of smaller poles are lashed to their tops, so as to make
a flat platform. A small hut is built on part of the platform as a
protection against the weather, so that the inmate can watch the field
while ensconced in the hut, and, if any furred or feathered robbers
come within its precincts, can run out on the platform and frighten
them away by shouts and waving of arms. The space between the platform
and ground is wattled on three sides, leaving the fourth open. The
object of this wattling is twofold. In the first place, the structure
is rendered more secure; and in the second, the inmate of the tower can
make a fire and cook food without being inconvenienced by the wind.
The task of the fields is committed to the women and young girls, the
men thinking such duties beneath them. In order to keep off the birds
from the newly sprouted corn blades, or from the just ripening grain,
a very ingenious device is employed. A great number of tall, slender
posts are stuck at intervals all over the piece of land, and strings
made of bark are led from pole to pole, all the ends being brought to
the top of the watch-tower, where they are firmly tied. As soon as a
flock of birds alight on the field, the girl in charge of the tower
pulls the strings violently, which sets them all vibrating up and down,
and so the birds are frightened, and fly away to another spot. A system
almost identical with this is employed both in the Chinese and Japanese
empires, and the complicated arrangement of poles and strings, and the
central watch-tower, is a favorite subject for illustration in the rude
but graphic prints which both nations produce with such fertility.
The enemies of the cornfield are innumerable. There are, in the first
place, hosts of winged foes, little birds and insects, which cannot
be prohibited from entering, and can only be driven away when they
have entered. Then there are certain members of the monkey tribes,
notably the baboons, or chacmas, which care very little more for a
fence than do the birds, and which, if they find climbing the fence
too troublesome, can generally insinuate themselves through its
interstices. This cunning and active animal is at times too clever
even for the Kaffir, and will succeed in stealing unobserved into his
garden, and carrying off the choicest of the crops. Whatever a man will
eat a chacma will eat, and the creature knows as well as the man when
the crops are in the best order. Whether the garden contain maize,
millet, pumpkins, sweet reed, or fruits, the chacma is sure to select
the best; and even when the animals are detected, and chased out of the
garden, it is very annoying to the proprietor to see them go off with a
quantity of spoil, besides the amount which they have eaten.
The ordinary food of the chacma is a plant called Babiana, from the use
which the baboons make of it. It is a subterranean root, which has the
property of being always full of watery juice in the dryest weather,
so that it is of incalculable value to travellers who have not a large
supply of water with them, or who find that the regular fountains are
dried up. Many Kaffirs keep tame chacmas which they have captured when
very young, and which have scarcely seen any of their kind. These
animals are very useful to the Kaffirs, for, if they come upon a plant
or a fruit which they do not know, they offer it to the baboon; and if
he eats it, they know that it is suitable for human consumption.
On their journeys the same animal is very useful in discovering
water, or, at all events, the babiana roots, which supply a modicum
of moisture to the system, and serve to support life until water is
reached. Under these circumstances, the baboon takes the lead of the
party, being attached to a long rope, and allowed to run about as
it likes. When it comes to a root of babiana, it is held back until
the precious vegetable can be taken entire out of the ground, but,
in order to stimulate the animal to further exertions, it is allowed
to eat a root now and then. The search for water is conducted in a
similar manner. The wretched baboon is intentionally kept without drink
until it is half mad with thirst, and is then led by a cord as before
mentioned. It proceeds with great caution, standing occasionally on
its hind legs to sniff the breeze, and looking at and smelling every
tuft of grass. By what signs the animal is guided no one can even
conjecture; but if water is in the neighborhood the baboon is sure to
find it. So, although this animal is an inveterate foe of the field and
garden, it is not without its uses to man when its energies are rightly
directed.
If the gardens or fields should happen to be near the river side, there
is no worse foe for them than the hippopotamus, which is only too glad
to exchange its ordinary food for the rich banquet which it finds in
cultivated grounds. If a single hippopotamus should once succeed in
getting into a garden, a terrible destruction to the crop takes place.
In the first place, the animal can consume an almost illimitable amount
of green food: and when it gets among such dainties as cornfields and
pumpkin patches, it indulges its appetite inordinately. Moreover, it
damages more than it eats, as its broad feet and short thick legs
trample their way through the crops. The track of any large animal
would be injurious to a standing crop, but that of the hippopotamus is
doubly so, because the legs of either side are so wide apart that the
animal makes a double track, one being made with the feet of the right
side, and the other with those of the left.
Against these heavy and voracious foes, a fence would be of little
avail, as the hippopotamus could force its way through the barrier
without injury, thanks to its thick hide. The owner of the field
therefore encloses it within a tolerably deep ditch, and furthermore
defends the ditch by pointed stakes: so that, if a hippopotamus did
happen to fall into the trench, it would never come out again alive. A
similar defence is sometimes made against the inroads of the elephants.
Those animals do not often take it into their heads to attack a garden
in the vicinity of human habitations; but when they do so, it is
hardly possible to stop them, except by such an obstacle as a ditch.
Even the ordinary protection of a fence and the vicinity of human
habitations is worthless, when a number of elephants choose to make
an inroad upon some field; and, unless the whole population turns out
of the kraal and uses all means at their command, the animals will
carry out their plans. The elephant always chooses the night for his
marauding expeditions, so that the defenders of the crops have double
disadvantages to contend against. One weapon which they use against
the elephant is a very singular one. They have an idea that the animal
is terrified at the shrill cry of an infant, and as soon as elephants
approach a kraal, all the children are whipped, in hopes that the
elephants may be dismayed at the universal clamor, and leave the spot.
Antelopes of various kinds are exceedingly fond of the young corn
blades, and, if the field be without a fence, are sure to come in
numbers, and nibble every green shoot down to the very ground. Near
the bush the buffalo is scarcely less injurious, and more dangerous
to meddle with; and even the porcupine is capable of working much
damage. The wild swine, however, are perhaps the worst, because the
most constant invaders, of the garden. Even a fence is useless against
them, unless it be perfect throughout its length, for the pigs can
force themselves through a wonderfully small aperture, owing to their
wedge-shaped head, while their thick and tough skins enable them to
push their way through thorns and spikes without suffering any damage.
The “pigs,” as the wild swine are popularly called, always come from
the bush; and when several kraals are built near a bush, the chiefs of
each kraal agree to make a fence from one to the other, so as to shut
out the pigs from all the cultivated land. This fence is a very useful
edifice, but, at the same time, has a very ludicrous aspect to an
European. The reader has already been told that the Kaffir cannot draw
a straight line, much less build a straight fence; and the consequence
is, that the builders continually find that the fence is assuming the
form of a segment of a circle in one direction, and then try to correct
the error by making a segment of a circle in the opposite direction,
thus making the fence very much larger than is necessary, and giving
themselves a vast amount of needless trouble.
As to the winged enemies of the garden, many modes of killing them
or driving them away are employed. One method for frightening birds
has already been described, and is tolerably useful when the corn is
young and green; but when it is ripe, the birds are much too busy to
be deterred by such flimsy devices, and continue to eat the corn in
spite of the shaking strings. Under such circumstances, war is declared
against the birds, and a number of Kaffirs surround the enclosure, each
being furnished with a number of knob-kerries. A stone is then flung
into the corn for the purpose of startling the birds, and as they rise
in a dense flock, a shower of kerries is rained upon them from every
side. As every missile is sure to go into the flock, and as each Kaffir
contrives to hurl four or five before the birds can get out of range,
it may be imagined that the slaughter is very great. Tchaka, who was
not above directing the minutiæ of domestic life, as well as of leading
armies, subsidizing nations, and legislating for an empire, ordered
that the birds should be continually attacked throughout his dominions;
and, though he did not succeed in killing them all, yet he thinned
their numbers so greatly, that during the latter years of his life the
graminivorous birds had become scarce instead of invading the fields in
vast flocks.
Locusts, the worst of the husbandman’s enemies, could not be
extirpated, and, indeed, the task of even thinning their numbers
appeared impracticable. The only plan that seems to have the least
success is that of burning a large heap of grass, sticks, and leaves
well to windward of the fields, as soon as the locusts are seen in the
distance. These insects always fly with the wind, and when they find
a tract of country covered with smoke, they would naturally pass on
until they found a spot which was not defiled with smoke, and on which
they might settle. It is said that locusts were not known in the Zulu
territories until 1829, and that they were sent by the supernatural
power of Sotshangana, a chief in the Delagoa district, whom Tchaka
attacked, and by whom the Zulu warriors were defeated, as has already
been mentioned on page 124. The whole story was told to Mr. Shooter,
who narrates it in the following words:--
“When they had reached Sotshangana’s country, the Zulus were in great
want of food, and a detachment of them coming to a deserted kraal,
began, as usual, to search for it. In so doing, they discovered some
large baskets, used for storing corn, and their hungry stomachs
rejoiced at the prospect of a meal. But when a famished warrior
impatiently removed the cover from one of them, out rushed a multitude
of insects, and the anticipated feast flew about their ears.
Astonishment seized the host, for they never beheld such an apparition
before; every man asked his neighbor, but none could ‘tell its quality
or name.’ One of their number at last threw some light on the mystery.
He had seen the insects in Makazana’s country, and perhaps he told his
wandering companions that they had been collected for food. But they
soon learned this from the people of the kraal, who had only retired to
escape the enemy, and whose voices were heard from a neighboring rock.
In no case would the fugitives have been likely to spare their lungs,
since they could rail and boast and threaten with impunity; but when
they saw that their food was in danger, they lifted up their voices
with desperate energy, and uttered the terrible threat that if the
invaders ate their locusts, others should follow them home, and carry
famine in their train. The Zulus were too hungry to heed the woe, or to
be very discriminating in the choice of victuals, and the locusts were
devoured. But when the army returned home, the scourge appeared, and
the threatening was fulfilled.”
How locusts, the destroyers of food, are converted into food, and
become a benefit instead of a curse to mankind, will be seen in the
next chapter.
As to the fruits of this country, they are tolerably numerous, the most
valued being the banana, which is sometimes called the royal fruit;
a Kaffir monarch having laid claim to all bananas, and forced his
subjects to allow him to take his choice before they touched the fruit
themselves. In some favored districts the banana grows to a great size,
a complete bunch being a heavy load for a man.
Next in importance to food for man is forage for cattle, and this is
generally found in great abundance, so that the grazing of a herd
costs their owner nothing but the trouble of driving his cattle to and
from the grass land. In this, as in other hot countries, the grass
grows with a rapidity and luxuriance that tends to make it too rank
for cattle to eat. When it first springs up, it is green, sweet, and
tender; but when it has reached a tolerable length it becomes so harsh
that the cattle can hardly eat it. The Kaffir, therefore, adopts a plan
by which he obtains as much fresh grass as he likes throughout the
season.
When a patch of grass has been fed upon as long as it can furnish
nourishment to the cattle, the Kaffir marks out another feeding-place.
At night, when the cattle are safely penned within the kraal, the
Kaffir goes out with a firebrand, and, when he has gone well to
windward of the spot which he means to clear, he sets fire to the dry
grass. At first, the flame creeps but slowly on, but it gradually
increases both in speed and extent, and sweeps over the plain in
obedience to the wind. On level ground, the fire marches in a tolerably
straight line, and is of nearly uniform height, except when it happens
to seize upon a clump of bushes, when it sends bright spires of
flame far into the sky. But when it reaches the bush-clad hills, the
spectacle becomes imposing. On rushes the mass of flame, climbing the
hill with fearful strides, roaring like myriads of flags ruffled in the
breeze, and devouring in its progress every particle of vegetation. Not
an inhabitant of the bush or plain can withstand its progress, and the
fire confers this benefit on the natives, that it destroys the snakes
and the slow-moving reptiles, while the swifter antelopes are able to
escape.
When the fire has done its work, the tract over which it has passed
presents a most dismal spectacle, the whole soil being bare and black,
and the only sign of former vegetation being an occasional stump of a
tree which the flames had not entirely consumed. But, in a very short
time, the wonderfully vigorous life of the herbage begins to assert
itself, especially if a shower of rain should happen to fall. Delicate
green blades show their slender points through the blackened covering,
and in a short time the whole tract is covered with a mantle of uniform
tender green. Nothing can be more beautiful than the fresh green of the
young blades, as they are boldly contrasted with the deep black hue of
the ground. The nearest approach to it is the singularly beautiful tint
of our hedgerows in early spring--a tint as fleeting as it is lovely.
The charred ashes of the burned grass form an admirable top-dressing to
the new grass, which springs up with marvellous rapidity, and in a very
short time affords pasture to the cattle. The Kaffir is, of course,
careful not to burn too much at once; but by selecting different spots,
and burning them in regular succession, he is able to give his beloved
cows fresh pasturage throughout the year.
CHAPTER XV.
FOOD.
THE STAFF OF LIFE IN KAFFIRLAND -- HOW A DINNER IS COOKED -- BOILING
AND GRINDING CORN -- THE KAFFIR MILL, AND MODE OF USING IT -- FAIR
DIVISION OF LABOR -- A KAFFIR DINNER-PARTY -- SINGING IN CHORUS --
ACCOUNT OF A KAFFIR MEETING AND WAR-SONG -- HISTORY OF THE WAR-SONG,
AND ITS VARIOUS POINTS EXPLAINED -- TCHAKA’s WAR-SONG -- SONG IN
HONOR OF PANDA -- HOW PORRIDGE IS EATEN -- VARIOUS SPOONS MADE BY
THE NATIVES -- A USEFUL COMBINATION OF SPOON AND SNUFF-BOX -- THE
GIRAFFE SPOON -- HOW THE COLORING IS MANAGED -- PECULIAR ANGLE OF
THE BOWL AND REASONS FOR IT -- KAFFIR ETIQUETTE IN DINING -- INNATE
LOVE OF JUSTICE -- GIGANTIC SPOON -- KAFFIR LADLES -- LOCUSTS EATEN
BY KAFFIRS -- THE INSECT IN ITS DIFFERENT STAGES -- THE LOCUST ARMIES
AND THEIR NUMBERS -- DESTRUCTIVENESS OF THE INSECT -- DESCRIPTION
OF A FLIGHT OF LOCUSTS -- EFFECT OF WIND ON THE LOCUSTS -- HOW THE
INSECTS ARE CAUGHT, COOKED, AND STORED -- GENERAL QUALITY OF THE
MEAT OBTAINED IN KAFFIRLAND -- JERKED MEAT, AND MODE OF COOKING IT
-- THE HUNGER-BELT AND ITS USES -- EATING SHIELD -- CEREMONIES IN
EATING BEEF -- VARIOUS DRINKS USED BY THE KAFFIR -- HOW HE DRINKS
WATER FROM THE RIVER -- INTOXICATING DRINKS OF DIFFERENT COUNTRIES
-- HOW BEER IS BREWED IN SOUTHERN AFRICA -- MAKING MAIZE INTO MALT
-- FERMENTATION, SKIMMING, AND STRAINING -- QUANTITY OF BEER DRUNK
BY A KAFFIR -- VESSELS IN WHICH BEER IS CONTAINED -- BEER-BASKETS --
BASKET STORE-HOUSES -- THE KAFFIR’S LOVE FOR HONEY -- HOW HE FINDS
THE BEES’ NESTS -- THE HONEY-GUIDE AND THE HONEY-RATEL -- POISONOUS
HONEY -- POULTRY AND EGGS -- FORBIDDEN MEATS -- THE KAFFIR AND THE
CROCODILE.
We have now seen how the Kaffirs obtain the staple of their animal food
by the cattle-pen and hunting-field, and how they procure vegetable
food by cultivating the soil. We will next proceed to the various
kinds of food used by the Kaffirs, and to the method by which they
cook it. Man, according to a familiar saying, has been defined as _par
excellence_ the cooking animal, and we shall always find that the
various modes used in preparing food are equally characteristic and
interesting.
The staff of life to a Kaffir is grain, whether maize or millet,
reduced to a pulp by careful grinding, and bearing some resemblance to
the oatmeal porridge of Scotland. When a woman has to cook a dinner
for her husband, she goes to one of the grain stores, and takes out a
sufficient quantity of either maize or millet, the former being called
umbila, and the latter amabele. The great cooking pot is now brought to
the circular fireplace, and set on three large stones, so as to allow
the fire to burn beneath it. Water and maize are now put into the pot,
the cover is luted down, as has already been mentioned, and the fire
lighted. The cooking pot is made of clay, which is generally procured
by pounding the materials of an ant-hill and kneading it thoroughly
with water.
Her next proceeding is to get her mill ready. This is a very rude
apparatus, and requires an enormous amount of labor to produce a
comparatively small effect. It consists of two parts, namely, the upper
and lower millstones, or the bed and the stone. The bed is a large,
heavy stone, which has been flat on the upper surface, but which has
been slightly hollowed and sloped. The stone is oval in shape, and
about eight or nine inches in length, and is, in fact, that kind of
stone which is popularly known under the name of “cobble.”
When the corn is sufficiently boiled, and the woman is ready to grind
it, she takes it from the pot, and places it on the stone, under which
she has spread a mat. She then kneels at the mill, takes the stone in
both hands, and with a peculiar rocking and grinding motion reduces
it to a tolerably consistent paste. As fast as it is ground, it is
forced down the sloping side of the stone, upon a skin which is ready
to receive it. This form of mill is perhaps the earliest with which
we are acquainted, and it may be found in many parts of the world. In
Mexico, for example, the ordinary mill is made on precisely the same
principle, though the lower stone is rudely carved so as to stand on
three legs.
It is more than probable that the operation of grinding corn, which is
so often mentioned in the earlier Scriptures, was performed in just
such a mill as the Kaffir woman uses. The labor of grinding the corn is
very severe, the whole weight of the body being thrown on the stone,
and the hands being fully occupied in rolling and rocking the upper
stone upon the lower. Moreover, the labor has to be repeated daily, and
oftentimes the poor hard-worked woman is obliged to resume it several
times in the day. Only sufficient corn is ground for the consumption of
a single meal; and therefore, so often as the men are hungry, so often
has she to grind corn for them.
The boiled and ground corn takes a new name, and is now termed
“isicaba;” and when a sufficient quantity has been ground, the woman
takes it from the mat, puts it into a basket, and brings it to her
husband, who is probably asleep or smoking his pipe. She then brings
him a bowl, some clotted milk, and his favorite spoon, and leaves him
to mix it for himself and take his meal, she not expecting to partake
with him, any more than she would expect him to help her in grinding
the corn.
As the Kaffir is eminently a social being, he likes to takes his meals
in company, and does so in a very orderly fashion.
When a number of Kaffirs meet for a social meal, they seat themselves
round the fire, squatted in their usual manner, and always forming
themselves into a circle, Kaffir fashion. If they should be very
numerous, they will form two or more concentric circles, all close to
each other, and all facing inward. The pot is then put on to boil, and
while the “mealies,” or heads of maize, are being cooked, they all
strike up songs, and sing them until the feast is ready. Sometimes they
prefer love songs, and are always fond of songs that celebrate the
possession of cattle. These melodies have a chorus that is perfectly
meaningless, like the choruses of many of our own popular songs, but
the singers become quite infatuated with them. In a well known cattle
song, the burden of which is E-e-e-yu-yu-yu, they all accompany the
words with gestures. Their hands are clenched, with the palms turned
upward; their arms bent, and at each E-e-e they drive their arms out
to their full extent; and at each repetition of the syllable “yu,”
they bring their elbows against their sides, so as to give additional
emphasis to the song. An illustration on page 145, represents such a
scene, and is drawn from a sketch by Captain Drayson, R. A., who has
frequently been present in such scenes, and learned to take his part in
the wild chorus. As to the smoke of the fire, the Kaffirs care nothing
for it, although no European singer would be able to utter two notes
in such a choking atmosphere, or to see what he was doing in a small
hut without window or chimney, and filled with wood smoke. Some snuff
gourds are seen on the ground, and on the left hand, just behind a
pillar, is the Induna, or head of the kraal, who is the founder of the
feast.
The number of Kaffirs that will crowd themselves into a single small
hut is almost incredible. Even in the illustration they seem to be
tolerably close together, but the fact is, that the artist was obliged
to omit a considerable number of individuals in order to give a partial
view of the fireplace and the various utensils.
One African traveller gives a very amusing account of a scene similar
to that which is depicted in the engraving. In the evening he heard
a most singular noise of many voices rising and falling in regular
rhythm, and found it to proceed from an edifice which he had taken for
a haycock, but which proved to be a Kaffir hut. He put his head into
the door, but the atmosphere was almost too much for him, and he could
only see a few dying embers, throwing a ruddy glow over a number of
Kaffirs squatting round the fireplace, and singing with their usual
gesticulations. He estimated their number at ten, thinking that the hut
could not possibly hold, much less accommodate, more than that number.
However, from that very hut issued thirty-five tall and powerful
Kaffirs, and they did not look in the least hot or uncomfortable. The
song which they were singing with such energy was upon one of the only
two subjects which seem to inspire a Kaffir’s muse, namely, war and
cattle. This particular composition treated of the latter subject, and
began with “All the calves are drinking water.”
A very graphic account of the method in which the Kaffirs sing
in concert is given by Mr. Mason, who seems to have written his
description immediately after witnessing the scene, and while the
impression was still strong on his mind:--
“By the light of a small oil lamp I was completing my English journal,
ready for the mail which sailed next day; and, while thus busily
employed, time stole away so softly that it was late ere I closed
and sealed it up. A fearful shout now burst from the recesses of the
surrounding jungle, apparently within a hundred yards of our tent; in a
moment all was still again, and then the yell broke out with increased
vigor, till it dinned in our ears, and made the very air shake and
vibrate with the clamor. At first we were alarmed, and looked to the
priming of our pistols; but, as the sounds approached no nearer, I
concluded that it must be part of some Kaffir festival, and determined
on ascertaining its meaning; so, putting by the pistol, I started, just
as I was, without coat, hat, or waistcoat, and made my way through the
dripping boughs of the jungle, toward the spot from whence the strange
sounds proceeded.
[Illustration: (1.) A KAFFIR DINNER PARTY. (See page 144.)]
[Illustration: (2.) SOLDIERS LAPPING WATER. (See page 152.)]
“By this time the storm had quite abated; the heavy clouds were rolling
slowly from over the rising moon; the drops from the lofty trees fell
heavily on the dense bush below; thousands of insects were chirping
merrily; and there, louder than all the rest, was the regular rise
and fall of some score of Kaffirs. I had already penetrated three
hundred yards or more into the bush, when I discovered a large and
newly erected Kaffir hut, with a huge fire blazing in its centre, just
visible through the dense smoke that poured forth from the little
semicircular aperture which served for a doorway. These huts of the
Kaffirs are formed of trellis-work, and thatched; in appearance they
resemble a well rounded haycock, being, generally, eight or ten feet
high at the vertex, circular in form, and from twenty to twenty-five
feet broad, with an opening like that of a beehive for a doorway, as
before described.
“But, as it was near midnight, it seemed to me that my visit might not
be altogether seasonable. However, to have turned back when so near the
doorway might have brought an assagai after me, since the occupants of
the hut would have attributed a rustling of the bushes, at that late
hour, to the presence of a thief or wild beast. I therefore coughed
aloud, stooped down, and thrust my head into the open doorway, where a
most interesting sight presented itself.
“Fancy three rows of jet-black Kaffirs, ranged in circles around the
interior of the hut, sitting knees and nose altogether, waving their
well oiled, strongly built frames backward and forward, to keep time
in their favorite ‘Dingan’s war-song;’ throwing their arms about, and
brandishing the glittering assagai, singing and shouting, uttering
a shrill piercing whistle, beating the ground to imitate the heavy
tramp of marching men, and making the very woods echo again with their
boisterous merriment.
“My presence was unobserved for a moment, until an old gray-headed
Kaffir (an Umdodie) pointed his finger toward me. In an instant,
the whole phalanx of glaring eyes was turned to the doorway; and
silence reigned throughout the demoniac-looking group. A simultaneous
exclamation of ‘Molonga! Molonga!’ (white man! white man!) was
succeeded by an universal beckon for me to come in and take a place
in the ring. This of course I complied with; and, having seen me
comfortably seated, they fell to work again more vociferously than
ever, till I was well near bewildered with the din, and stifled with
the dense smoke issuing from the huge fire in the centre of the ring.”
Dingan’s war-song, which is here mentioned, is rather made in praise
of Dingan’s warlike exploits. To a Kaffir, who understands all the
allusions made by the poet, it is a marvellously exciting composition,
though it loses its chief beauties when translated into a foreign
language, and deprived of the peculiar musical rhythm and alliteration
which form the great charms of Kaffir poetry. The song was as follows:--
“Thou needy offspring of Umpikazi,
Eyer of the cattle of men.
Bird of Maube, fleet as a bullet,
Sleek, erect, of beautiful parts.
Thy cattle like the comb of the bees,
O herd too large, too huddled to move.
Devourer of Moselekatze, son of Machobana,
Devourer of Swazi, son of Sobuza.
Breaker of the gates of Machobana.
Devourer of Gundave of Machobana.
A monster in size, of mighty power.
Devourer of Ungwati of ancient race;
Devourer of the kingly Uomape;
Like heaven above, raining and shining.”
If the reader will refer to the song in honor of Panda, which is given
on page 90, he will see the strong resemblance that exists between the
two odes, each narrating some events of the hero’s early life, then
diverging into a boast of his great wealth, and ending with a list of
his warlike achievements.
Mr. Shooter mentions a second song which was made in honor of Tchaka,
as, indeed, he was told by that renowned chief himself. It was composed
after that warlike despot had made himself master of the whole of
Kaffirland, and the reader will not fail to notice the remarkable
resemblance between the burden of the song, “Where will you go out
to battle now?” and the lament of Alexander, that there were no more
worlds to conquer.
“Thou hast finished, finished the nations!
Where will you go out to battle now?
Hey! where will you go out to battle now?
Thou hast conquered kings!
Where are you going to battle now?
Thou hast finished, finished the nations!
Where are you going to battle now?
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
Where are you going to battle now?”
I have already mentioned that in eating his porridge the Kaffir uses
a spoon. He takes a wonderful pride in his spoon, and expends more
trouble upon it than upon any other article which he possesses, not
even his “tails,” pipes, or snuff box, being thought worthy of so
much labor as is lavished upon his spoons. Although there is a great
variety of patterns among the spoons manufactured by the Kaffir tribes,
there is a character about them which is quite unmistakable, and
which points out the country of the maker as clearly as if his name
were written on it. The bowl, for example, instead of being almost in
the same line with the stem, is bent forward at a slight angle, and,
instead of being rather deep, is quite shallow. It is almost incapable
of containing liquids, and is only adapted for conveying to the mouth
the thick porridge which has already been described. Several of
these spoons are represented on page 103, drawn from specimens in my
collection.
Fig. 1 is a spoon rather more than two feet in length, cut from a
stout branch of a tree, as is shown by the radiating circles, denoting
the successive annual deposits of woody fibre. The little dark mark
in the bowl shows the pithy centre of the branch. The end of the
handle is made to represent the head of an assagai, and the peculiar
convexity and concavity of that weapon is represented by staining one
side of the blade black. This staining process is very simply managed
by heating a piece of iron or a stone, and charring the wood with it,
so as to make an indelible black mark. Part of the under side of the
bowl is stained black in a similar manner, and so is a portion of the
handle, this expeditious and easy mode of decoration being in great
favor among the Kaffirs, when they are making any article of wood. The
heads of the wooden assagais shown on page 103 are stained in the same
fashion. According to English ideas, the bowl is of unpleasantly large
dimensions, being three inches and a quarter in width. But a Kaffir
mouth is a capacious one, and he can use this gigantic instrument
without inconvenience.
Fig. 2 represents a singularly elaborate example of a spoon, purchased
from a native by the late H. Jackson, Esq. It is more than three feet
in length and is slightly curved, whereas the preceding example is
straight. The wood of which it is made is much harder than that of
the other spoon, and is therefore capable of taking a tolerably high
polish. The maker of this spoon has ornamented it in a very curious
manner. Five rings are placed round the stem, and these rings are made
of the wire-like hairs from the elephant’s tail. They are plaited in
the manner that is known to sailors as the “Turk’s-head” knot, and are
similar to those that have been mentioned on page 101 as being placed
on the handle of the assagai. In order to show the mode in which these
rings are made, one of them is given on an enlarged scale.
At the end of the handle of the spoon may be seen a globular knob. This
is carved from the same piece of wood as the spoon, and is intended
for a snuff box, so that the owner is doubly supplied with luxuries.
It is cut in order to imitate a gourd, and, considering the very rude
tools which a Kaffir possesses, the skill displayed in hollowing it
is very great. Round the neck of the opening is one of the elephant’s
hair rings, and at the bottom there is some rather deep carving. This
odd snuff box is ornamented by being charred, as is the bowl and the
greater part of the stem.
Sometimes the Kaffirs exert great ingenuity in carving the handles of
their spoons into rude semblances of various animals. On account of
its long neck and legs and sloping back, the giraffe is the favorite.
Fig. 1 on page 103 shows one of these spoons. It is rather more than a
foot in length, and represents the form of the animal better than might
be supposed from the illustration, which is taken from the front, and
therefore causes its form to be foreshortened and the characteristic
slope of the back to be unseen. It is made of the acacia wood, that
being the tree on which the giraffe loves to feed, and which is called
by the Dutch settlers “Kameel-dorn,” or camel-thorn, in consequence.
The peculiar attitude of the head is a faithful representation of
the action of the giraffe when raising its head to browse among the
foliage, and the spotted skin is well imitated by application of a
red-hot iron.
In some examples of the giraffe spoon, the form of the animal is much
better shown, even the joints of the legs being carefully marked, and
their action indicated. Sometimes the Kaffir does not make the whole
handle into the form of an animal, but cuts the handle of the usual
shape, and leaves at the end a large block of solid wood, which he can
carve into the required shape. The hippopotamus is frequently chosen
for this purpose, and so is the rhinoceros, while the hyæna is always
a favorite, apparently because its peculiar outline can easily be
imitated in wood.
The reader will probably have noticed the angle at which the shallow
bowl is set, and it appears to make the spoon a most inconvenient
instrument. If held after the European fashion, the user would scarcely
be able to manage it at all, but the Kaffir has his own way of holding
it, which is perfectly effective. Instead of taking it between the
thumb and the forefinger, he grasps the stem with the whole hand,
having the bowl to the left, and the handle to the right. He then dips
the shallow bowl into the tenacious porridge, takes up as much as it
will possibly hold, and inserts the whole of the bowl into his mouth,
the convex side being uppermost. In this position the tongue can lick
the spoon quite clean, so as to be ready for the next visit to the
porridge.
If a number of Kaffirs are about to partake of a common meal, they
always use a common spoon. Were each man to bring his own with him,
and all to dip in the pot at once, it is evident that he who had the
largest spoon, would get the largest share, than which nothing would
be more distasteful to the justice loving Kaffir, besides giving rise
to a scene of hurry, and probably contention, which would be a breach
of good manners. So the chief man present takes the spoon, helps
himself to a mouthful, and hands the clean spoon to his next neighbor.
Thus the spoon goes round in regular order, each man having one
spoonful at a time, and none having more than another.
This love of justice pervades all classes of Kaffirs, and even adheres
to them when they are partially civilized--a result which does not
always take place when the savage has taken his first few lessons
in the civilization of Europe. Some time ago, when a visitor was
inspecting an English school for Kaffir children, he was struck by
the method adopted in giving the scholars their meals. Porridge was
prepared for them, and served out by one of their own nation, who used
the most scrupulous accuracy in dividing the food. She was not content
with giving to each child an apparently equal share, but went twice or
thrice round the circle, adding to one portion and taking away from
another, until all were equally served. Not until she was satisfied
that the distribution was a just one, did the dusky scholars think of
beginning their meal.
Sometimes the Kaffirs will amuse themselves by making spoons of the
most portentous dimensions, which would baffle even the giants of our
nursery tales, did they endeavor to use such implements. One of these
gigantic spoons is in the collection of Colonel Lane Fox. It is shaped
much like fig. 1, in the illustration at page 103, and if very much
reduced in size would be a serviceable Kaffir spoon of the ordinary
kind. But it is between five and six feet in length, its stem is as
thick as a man’s arm, and its bowl large enough to accommodate his
whole head.
At fig. 2 of the illustration on the upper part of same page may be
seen an article which looks like a spoon, but rather deserves the name
of ladle, as it is used for substances more liquid than the porridge.
It is carved from a single piece of wood, and it is a singular fact
that the maker should have been able to carve the deeply grooved handle
without the aid of a lathe. If this handle be turned round on its axis,
so that the eye can follow the spiral course of the grooves, it becomes
evident that they have been cut without the use of any machinery. But
the truth of their course is really wonderful, and the carver of this
handsome handle has taken care to darken the spiral grooves by the
application of a hot iron. This remarkable specimen was brought from
Africa by the Rev. J. Shooter, and the illustration has been taken from
the specimen itself.
Two more similar ladles are illustrated on page 155. The uppermost
figure represents a ladle about fourteen inches in length. The pattern
has no pretence to elaborate detail; but the whole form is very bold
and decided, and the carver has evidently done his work thoroughly, and
on a definite plan. The black marks on the stem and handle are made by
a hot iron, and the under surface of the bowl is decorated with two
triangular marks made in the same manner.
At figure 2 of the same illustration is shown a rather remarkable
ladle. It is eighteen inches in length, and the bowl is both wide and
deep. It is made from the hard wood of the acacia, and must have cost
the carver a considerable amount of trouble. In carving the ladle, the
maker has set himself to shape the handle in such a manner that it
resembles a bundle of small sticks tied together by a band at the end
and another near the middle. So well has he achieved this feat that,
when I first saw this ladle, in rather dim light, I really thought that
some ingenious artificer had contrived to make a number of twigs start
from one part of a branch, and had carved that portion of the branch
into the bowl, and had tied the twigs together to form the handle. He
has heightened the deception, by charring the sham bands black, while
the rest of the handle is left of its natural color. Figs. 3 and 4 of
the same illustration will be presently described.
* * * * *
There is an article of food which is used by the natives, in its proper
season, and does not prepossess a European in its favor. This is the
locust, the well-known insect which sweeps in countless myriads over
the land, and which does such harm to the crops and to everything
that grows. The eggs of the locust are laid in the ground, and at the
proper season the young make their appearance. They are then very
small, but they grow with great rapidity--as, indeed, they ought to
do, considering the amount of food which they consume. Until they have
passed a considerable time in the world, they have no wings, and can
only crawl and hop. The Kaffirs call these imperfect locusts “boyane,”
and the Dutch settlers term them “voetgangers,” or “foot-goers,”
because they cannot fly. Even in this stage they are terribly
destructive, and march steadily onward consuming every green thing that
they can eat.
Nothing stops them in their progress short of death, and, on account
of their vast myriads, the numbers that can be killed form but an
insignificant proportion of the whole army. A stream of these insects,
a mile or more in width, will pass over a country, and scarcely
anything short of a river will stop them. Trenches are soon filled
up with their bodies, and those in the rear march over the carcasses
of their dead comrades. Sometimes the trenches have been filled with
fire, but to no purpose, as the fire is soon put out by the locusts
that come crowding upon it. As for walls, the insects care nothing for
them, but surmount them, and even the very houses, without suffering a
check.
When they become perfect insects and gain their wings, they proceed,
as before, in vast myriads; but this time, they direct their course
through the air, and not merely on land, so that not even the broadest
river can stop them. They generally start as soon as the sun has
dispelled the dews and warmed the air, which, in its nightly chill,
paralyzes them, and renders them incapable of flight and almost unable
even to walk. Toward evening they always descend, and perhaps in the
daytime also; and wherever they alight, every green thing vanishes.
The sound of their jaws cutting down the leaves and eating them can be
heard at a great distance. They eat everything of a vegetable nature.
Mr. Moffatt saw a whole field of maize consumed in two hours, and has
seen them eat linen, flannel, and even tobacco. When they rise for
another flight, the spot which they have left is as bare as if it were
desert land, and not a vestige of any kind of verdure is to be seen
upon it.
A very excellent description of a flight of locusts is given by Mr.
Cole, in his work on South Africa:--
“Next day was warm enough, but the wind was desperately high, and, much
to my disgust, right in my face as I rode away on my journey. After
travelling some ten miles, having swallowed several ounces of sand
meanwhile, and been compelled occasionally to remove the sand-hills
that were collecting in my eyes, I began to fall in with some locusts.
At first they came on gradually and in small quantities, speckling the
earth here and there, and voraciously devouring the herbage.
“They were not altogether pleasant, as they are weak on the wing, and
quite at the mercy of the wind, which uncivilly dashed many a one into
my face with a force that made my cheeks tingle. By degrees they grew
thicker and more frequent. My progress was now most unpleasant, for
they flew into my face every instant. Flung against me and my horse
by the breeze, they clung to us with the tightness of desperation,
till we were literally speckled with locusts. Each moment the clouds
of them became denser, till at length--I am guilty of no exaggeration
in saying--they were as thick in the air as the flakes of snow during
a heavy fall of it; they covered the grass and the road, so that at
every step my horse crushed dozens; they were whirled into my eyes and
those of my poor nag, till at last the latter refused to face them, and
turned tail in spite of whip and spur. They crawled about my face and
neck, got down my shirt collar and up my sleeves--in a word they drove
me to despair as completely as they drove my horse to stubbornness, and
I was obliged to ride back a mile or two, and claim shelter from them
at a house I had passed on my route; fully convinced that a shower of
locusts is more unbearable than hail, rain, snow, and sleet combined. I
found the poor farmer in despair at the dreadful visitation which had
come upon him--and well he might be so. To-day he had standing crops, a
garden, and wide pasture lands in full verdure; the next day the earth
was as bare all round as a macadamized road.
“I afterwards saw millions of these insects driven by the wind into the
sea at Algoa Bay, and washed on shore again in such heaps, that the
prisoners and coolies in the town were busily employed for a day or
two in burying the bodies, to prevent the evil consequence that would
arise from the putrefying of them close to the town. No description
of these little plagues, or of the destruction they cause, can well
be an exaggeration. Fortunately, their visitations are not frequent,
as I only remember three during my five years’ residence in South
Africa. Huge fires are sometimes lighted round corn-lands and gardens
to prevent their approach; and this is an effective preventive when
they can steer their own course; but when carried away by such a wind
as I have described, they can only go where it drives them, and all
the bonfires in the world would be useless to stay their progress. The
farmer thus eaten out of house and home (most literally) has nothing to
do but to move his stock forthwith to some other spot which has escaped
them--happy if he can find a route free from their devastation, so that
his herds and flocks may not perish by the way.”
Fortunately, their bodies being heavy in proportion to their wings,
they cannot fly against the wind, and it often happens that, as in the
old Scripture narrative, a country is relieved by a change of wind,
which drives the insects into the sea, where they are drowned; and,
as Mr. Cole observes, they were driven by the wind into his face or
upon his clothes, as helplessly as the cockchafers on a windy summer
evening. Still, terrible as are the locusts, they have their uses. In
the first place, they afford food to innumerable animals. As they fly,
large flocks of birds wait on them, sweep among them and devour them
on the wing. While they are on the ground, whether in their winged or
imperfect state, they are eaten by various animals; even the lion and
other formidable carnivora not disdaining so easily gained a repast.
As the cool air of the night renders the locusts incapable of moving,
they can be captured without difficulty. Even to mankind the locusts
are serviceable, being a favorite article of food. It is true that
these insects devour whole crops, but it may be doubted whether they do
not confer a benefit on the dusky cultivators rather than inflict an
injury.
As soon as the shades of evening render the locusts helpless, the
natives turn out in a body, with sacks, skins, and everything that can
hold the expected prey, those who possess such animals bringing pack
oxen in order to bear the loads home. The locusts are swept by millions
into the sacks, without any particular exertion on the part of the
natives, though not without some danger, as venomous serpents are apt
to come for the purpose of feeding on the insects, and are sometimes
roughly handled in the darkness.
When the locusts have been brought home, they are put into a large
covered pot, such as has already been described, and a little water
added to them. The fire is then lighted under the pot, and the locusts
are then boiled, or rather steamed, until they are sufficiently
cooked. They are then taken out of the pot, and spread out in the
sunbeams until they are quite dry; and when this part of the process is
completed, they are shaken about in the wind until the legs and wings
fall off, and are carried away just as the chaff is carried away by the
breeze when corn is winnowed. When they are perfectly dry, they are
stored away in baskets, or placed in the granaries just as if they were
corn.
Sometimes the natives eat them whole, just as we eat shrimps, and, if
they can afford such a luxury, add a little salt to them. Usually,
however, the locusts are treated much in the same manner as corn or
maize. They are ground to powder by the mill until they are reduced
to meal, which is then mixed with water, so as to form a kind of
porridge. A good locust season is always acceptable to the natives, who
can indulge their enormous appetites to an almost unlimited extent,
and in consequence become quite fat in comparison with their ordinary
appearance. So valuable, indeed, are the locusts, that if a native
conjurer can make his companions believe that his incantations have
brought the locusts, he is sure to be richly rewarded by them.
Meat, when it can be obtained, is the great luxury of a Kaffir. Beef is
his favorite meat; but he will eat that of many of the native animals,
though there are some, including all kinds of fish, which he will not
touch. With a very few exceptions, such as the eland, the wild animals
of Southern Africa do not furnish very succulent food. Venison when
taken from a semi-domesticated red deer, or a three-parts domesticated
fallow deer, is a very different meat when obtained from a wild deer or
antelope. As a general rule, such animals have very little fat about
them, and their flesh, by reason of constant exercise and small supply
of food, is exceedingly tough, and would baffle the jaws of any but a
very hungry man.
Fortunately for the Kaffirs, their teeth and jaws are equal to any
task that can be imposed upon them in the way of mastication, and meat
which an European can hardly manage to eat is a dainty to his dark
companions. The late Gordon Cumming, who had as much experience in
hunter life as most men, used to say that a very good idea of the meat
which is usually obtained by the gun in Kaffirland may be gained by
taking the very worst part of the toughest possible beef, multiplying
the toughness by ten, and subtracting all the gravy.
The usual plan that is adopted is, to eat at once the best parts of an
animal, and to cure the rest by drying it in the sun. This process is
a very simple one. The meat is cut into thin, long strips, and hung on
branches in the open air. The burning sunbeams soon have their effect,
and convert the scarlet strips of raw meat into a substance that looks
like old shoe-leather, and is nearly as tough. The mode of dressing it
is, to put it under the ashes of the fire, next to pound it between two
stones, and then to stew it slowly in a pot, just as is done with fresh
beef. Of course, this mode of cooking meat is only employed on the
march, when the soldiers are unable to take with them the cooking-pots
of domestic life.
Sometimes, especially when returning from an unsuccessful war, the
Kaffirs are put to great straits for want of food, and have recourse to
the strangest expedients for allaying hunger. They begin by wearing a
“hunger-belt,” _i. e._ a belt passed several times round the body, and
arranged so as to press upon the stomach, and take off for a time the
feeling of faint sickness that accompanies hunger before it develops
into starvation. As the hours pass on, and the faintness again appears,
the hunger-belt is drawn tighter and tighter. This curious remedy for
hunger is to be found in many parts of the world, and has long been
practised by the native tribes of North America.
The hungry soldiers, when reduced to the last straits, have been known
to eat their hide-shields, and, when these were finished, to consume
even the thongs which bind the head of the assagai to the shaft. The
same process of cooking is employed in making the tough skin eatable;
namely, partial broiling _under_ ashes, then pounding between stones,
and then stewing, or boiling, if any substitute for a cooking-pot can
be found. One of the missionaries relates, in a manner that shows the
elastic spirit which animated him, how he and his companions were once
driven to eat a box which he had made of rhinoceros hide, and seems
rather to regret the loss of so excellent a box than to demand any
sympathy for the hardships which he had sustained.
* * * * *
We now come to the question of the liquids which a Kaffir generally
consumes. Ordinary men are forced to content themselves with water,
and there are occasions when they would only be too glad to obtain
even water. Certain ceremonies demand that the warriors shall be fed
plenteously with beef during the night, but that they shall not be
allowed to drink until the dawn of the following day. At the beginning
of the feast they are merry enough; for beef is always welcome to a
Kaffir, and to be allowed to eat as much as he can possibly manage to
accommodate is a luxury which but seldom occurs.
However, the time comes, even to a hungry Kaffir, when he cannot
possibly eat any more, and he craves for something to drink. This
relief is strictly prohibited, no one being allowed to leave the
circle in which they are sitting. It generally happens that some of
the younger “boys,” who have been but recently admitted into the
company of soldiers, find themselves unable to endure such a privation,
and endeavor to slip away unobserved. But a number of old and tried
warriors, who have inured themselves to thirst as well as hunger, and
who look with contempt on all who are less hardy than themselves, are
stationed at every point of exit, and, as soon as they see the dusky
form of a deserter approach the spot which they are guarding, they
unceremoniously attack him with their sticks, and beat him back to his
place in the circle.
On the march, if a Kaffir is hurried, and comes to a spot where there
is water, he stoops down, and with his curved hand flings the water
into his mouth with movements almost as rapid as those of a cat’s
tongue when she laps milk. Sometimes, if he comes to a river, which
he has to ford, he will contrive to slake his thirst as he proceeds,
without once checking his speed. This precaution is necessary if he
should be pursued, or if the river should happen to be partially
infested with crocodiles and other dangerous reptiles. (See engraving
No. 2 on p. 145.)
Kaffirs are also very fond of a kind of whey, which is poured off from
the milk when it is converted into “amasi,” and which is something
like our buttermilk to the taste. Still, although the Kaffirs can put
up with water, and like their buttermilk, they have a craving for some
fermented liquor. Water and buttermilk are very well in their way;
but they only serve for quenching thirst, and have nothing sociable
about them. Now the Kaffir is essentially a sociable being, as has
already been mentioned, and he likes nothing better than sitting in a
circle of friends, talking, grinding snuff or taking it, smoking, and
drinking. And, when he joins in such indulgences, he prefers that his
drink should be of an intoxicating nature, therein following the usual
instincts of mankind all over the world.
There are few nations who do not know how to make intoxicating drinks,
and the Kaffir is not likely to be much behindhand in this respect.
The only fermented drink which the genuine Kaffirs use is a kind of
beer, called in the native tongue “outchualla.” Like all other savages,
the Kaffirs very much prefer the stronger potations that are made by
Europeans; and their love for whisky, rum, and brandy has been the
means of ruining, and almost extinguishing, many a tribe--just as has
been the case in Northern America. The quantity of spirituous liquid
that a Kaffir can drink is really astonishing; and the strangest thing
is, that he will consume nearly a bottle of the commonest and coarsest
spirit, and rise at daybreak on the next morning without even a
headache.
The beer which the Kaffirs make is by no means a heady liquid, and
seems to have rather a fattening than an intoxicating quality. All men
of note drink large quantities of beer, and the chief of a tribe rarely
stirs without having a great vessel of beer at hand, together with his
gourd cup and ladle. The operations of brewing are conducted entirely
by the women, and are tolerably simple, much resembling the plan which
is used in England. Barley is not employed for this purpose, the grain
of maize or millet being substituted for it.
The grain is first encouraged to a partial sprouting by being wrapped
in wet mats, and is then killed by heat, so as to make it into malt,
resembling that which is used in our own country. The next process is
to put it into a vessel, and let it boil for some time, and afterward
to set it aside for fermentation. The Kaffir has no yeast, but employs
a rather curious substitute for it, being the stem of a species of
ice-plant, dried and kept ready for use. As the liquid ferments, a scum
arises to the top, which is carefully removed by means of an ingenious
skimmer, shown at figs. 3 and 4, on page 155. This skimmer is very much
like those wire implements used by our cooks for taking vegetables out
of hot water, and is made of grass stems very neatly woven together;
a number of them forming the handle, and others spreading out like
the bowl of a spoon. The bowls of these skimmers are set at different
angles, so as to suit the vessel in which fermentation is carried on.
When the beer is poured into the vessel in which it is kept for use,
it is passed through a strainer, so as to prevent any of the malt from
mixing with it. One of these strainers is shown at fig. 3, on page 67.
The specimen from which the drawing was taken is in my own collection,
and is a good sample of the Kaffir’s workmanship. It is made of reeds,
split and flattened; each reed being rather more than the fifth of an
inch wide at the opening and the twelfth of an inch at the smaller
end, and being carefully graduated in width. In shape it resembles a
jelly-bag, and, indeed, has much the same office to perform. The reeds
are woven in the “under three and over three” fashion, so as to produce
a zigzag pattern; and the conical shape of the strainer is obtained,
not by any alteration in the mode of weaving, but by the gradual
diminution of the reeds. These strainers are of various sizes; but my
own specimen, which is of the average dimensions, measures fifteen
inches in length, and nine in width across the opening.
Beer, like milk, is kept in baskets, which the Kaffirs are capable
of making so elaborately, that they can hold almost any liquid as
well as if they were casks made by the best European coopers. Indeed,
the fineness and beauty of the Kaffir basket-work may excite the
admiration, if not the envy, of civilized basket-makers, who, however
artistic may be the forms which they produce, would be sadly puzzled if
required to make a basket that would hold beer, wine, or even milk.
One of the ordinary forms of beer basket may be seen in the
illustration on page 67, the small mouth being for the greater
convenience of pouring it out. Others can be seen in the illustration
on page 63, representing the interior of a Kaffir hut. Beer baskets
of various sizes are to be found in every kraal, and are always kept
in shady places, to prevent the liquid from being injured by heat. A
Kaffir chief hardly seems to be able to support existence without his
beer. Within his own house, or in the shadow of a friendly screen, he
will sit by the hour together, smoking his enormous pipe continually,
and drinking his beer at tolerably constant intervals, thus contriving
to consume a considerable amount both of tobacco and beer. Even if he
goes out to inspect his cattle, or to review his soldiers, a servant
is sure to be with him, bearing his beer basket, stool, and other
luxurious appendages of state.
He generally drinks out of a cup, which he makes from a gourd, and
which, in shape and size, much resembles an emu’s egg with the top
cut off. For the purpose of taking the beer out of the basket, and
pouring it into the cup, he uses a ladle of some sort. The form which
is most generally in use is that which is made from a kind of gourd;
not egg-shaped, like that from which the cup is made, but formed very
much like an onion with the stalk attached to it. The bulb of the onion
represents the end of the gourd, and it will be seen that when a slice
is cut off this globular end, and the interior of the gourd removed, a
very neat ladle can be produced. As the outer skin of the gourd is of
a fine yellow color, and has a high natural polish, the cup and ladle
have a very pretty appearance.
Sometimes the Kaffir carves his ladles out of wood, and displays
much skill and taste in their construction, as may be seen by the
specimens. Occasionally the beer bowl is carved from wood as well as
the ladle; but, on account of its weight when empty, and the time
employed in making it, none but a chief is likely to make use of such a
bowl. One of these wooden bowls is shown at fig. 2, in the illustration
on page 67, and is drawn from a specimen brought from Southern Africa
by Mr. H. Jackson. It is of large dimensions, as may be seen by
comparing it with the milkpail at fig. 1. The color of the bowl is
black.
It is rather remarkable that the Kaffir who carved this bowl has
been so used to baskets as beer vessels that he has not been able to
get the idea out of his mind. The bowl is painfully wrought out of a
single block of wood, and must have cost an enormous amount of labor,
considering the rudeness of the tools used by the carver. According to
our ideas, the bowl ought therefore to show that it really is something
more valuable than usual, and as unlike the ordinary basket as
possible. But so wedded has been the maker to the notion that a basket,
and nothing but a basket, is the proper vessel for beer, that he has
taken great pains to carve the whole exterior in imitation of a basket.
So well and regularly is this decoration done, that when the bowl is
set some little distance, or placed in the shade, many persons mistake
it for a basket set on three wooden legs, and stained black.
At fig. 5 of the same illustration is an example of the Kaffir’s
basket-work. This is one of the baskets used by the women when they
have been to the fields, and have to carry home the ears of maize
or other produce. This basket is very stout and strong, and will
accommodate a quantity of corn which would form a good load for an
average English laborer. But she considers this hard work as part of
woman’s mission, asks one of her companions to assist in placing it on
her head, and goes off with her burden, often lightening the heavy task
by joining in a chorus with her similarly-laden friends. Indeed, as has
been well said by an experienced missionary, in the normal state of the
Kaffir tribes the woman serves every office in husbandry, and herself
fulfils the duties of field laborer, plough, cart, ox, and horse.
Basket-work is used for an infinity of purposes. It is of basket-work,
for example, that the Kaffir makes his curious and picturesque
storehouses, in which he keeps the corn that he is likely to require
for household use. These storehouses are always raised some height from
the ground, for the double purpose of keeping vermin from devastating
them, and of allowing a free passage to the air round them, and so
keeping their contents dry and in good condition. Indeed, the very
houses are formed of a sort of basket-work, as may be seen by reference
to Chapter VII.; and even their kraals, or villages, are little more
than basket-work on a very large scale.
Almost any kind of flexible material seems to answer for baskets, and
the Kaffir workman impresses into his service not only the twigs of
pliant bushes, like the osier and willow, but uses grass stems, grass
leaves, rushes, flags, reeds, bark, and similar materials. When he
makes those that are used for holding liquids, he always uses fine
materials, and closes the spaces between them by beating down each
successive row with an instrument that somewhat resembles a very stout
paper-knife, and that is made either of wood, bone, or ivory. As is the
case with casks, pails, quaighs, and all vessels that are made with
staves, the baskets must be well soaked before they become thoroughly
water-tight.
One of these baskets is in my own collection. It is most beautifully
made, and certainly surpasses vessels of wood or clay in one respect;
namely, that it will bear very rough treatment without breaking. The
mode of weaving it is peculiarly intricate. A vast amount of grass
is employed in its construction, the work is very close, and the
ends of the innumerable grass blades are so neatly woven into the
fabric as scarcely to be distinguishable. Soon after it came into my
possession, I sent it to a conversazione, together with a large number
of ethnological curiosities, and, knowing that very few would believe
in its powers without actual proof, I filled it with milk, and placed
it on the table. Although it had been in England for some time, and had
evidently undergone rather rough treatment, it held the milk very well.
There was a very slight leakage, caused by a mistake of the former
proprietor, who had sewed a label upon it with a very coarse needle,
leaving little holes, through which a few drops of milk gradually
oozed. With this exception, however, the basket was as serviceable as
when it was in use among the Kaffir huts.
Honey is a very favorite food with the Kaffirs, who are expert at
attacking the nests, and removing the combs in spite of the attacks
of the bees. They detect a bees’ nest in many ways, and, among other
plans for finding the nest, they set great value on the bird called the
honey-guide. There are several species of honey-guide, two of which
are tolerably common in Southern Africa, and all of which belong to
the cuckoo family. These birds are remarkable for the trust which they
instinctively repose in mankind, and the manner in which they act as
guides to the nest. Whenever a Kaffir hears a bird utter a peculiar
cry, which has been represented by the word “Cherr! cherr!” he looks
out for the singer, and goes in the direction of the voice. The bird,
seeing that the man is following, begins to approach the bees’ nest,
still uttering its encouraging cry, and not ceasing until the nest is
found.
The Kaffirs place great reliance on the bird, and never eat all the
honey, but make a point of leaving some for the guide that conducted
them to the sweet storehouse. They say that the honey-guide voluntarily
seeks the help of man, because it would otherwise be unable to get at
the bee-combs, which are made in hollow trees, thus being protected
in secure fortresses, which the bird could not penetrate without the
assistance of some being stronger than itself. And as the bird chiefly
wants the combs which contain the bee-grubs, and the man only wants
those which contain honey, the Kaffir leaves all the grub-combs for the
bird, and takes all the honey-combs himself; so that both parties are
equally pleased. Whether this be the case or not, it is certain that
the bird does perform this service to mankind, and that both the Kaffir
and the bird seem to understand each other. The honey-ratel, one of the
largest species of the weasel tribe, and an animal which is extremely
fond of bee-combs, is said to share with mankind the privilege of
alliance with the honey-guide, and to requite the aid of the bird with
the comb which it tears out of the hollow tree. It is remarkable that
both the ratel and the honey-guide are so thickly defended, the one
with fur, and the other with feathers, that the stings of the bees
cannot penetrate through their natural armor.
It is rather curious, however, that the honey-guide does not invariably
lead to the nests of bees. It has an odd habit of guiding the attention
of mankind to any animal which may be hiding in the bush, and the wary
traveller is always careful to have his weapons ready when he follows
the honey-guide, knowing that, although the bird generally leads the
way to honey, it has an unpleasant custom of leading to a concealed
buffalo, or lion, or panther, or even to a spot where a cobra or other
poisonous snake is reposing.
Although honey is much prized by Kaffirs, they exercise much caution
in eating it; and before they will trust themselves to taste it, they
inspect the neighborhood, with the purpose of seeing whether certain
poisonous plants grow in the vicinity, as in that case the honey
is sure to be deleterious. The euphorbia is one of these poisonous
plants, and belongs to a large order, which is represented in England
by certain small plants known by the common denomination of spurge.
One of them, commonly called milky-weed, sun-spurge, or wort-spurge,
is well known for the white juice which pours plentifully from the
wounded stem, and which is used in some places as a means of destroying
warts. In our own country the juice is only remarkable for its milky
appearance and its hot acrid taste, which abides in the mouth for
a wonderfully long time; but in Africa the euphorbias grow to the
dimensions of trees, and the juice is used in many parts of that
continent as a poison for arrows. Some of them look so like the cactus
group that they might be mistaken for those plants; but they are easily
known by the milky juice that pours from them when wounded, and by the
fact that their thorns, when they have any, grow singly, and not in
clusters, like those of the cactus. The white juice furnishes, when
evaporated, a highly poisonous drug, called euphorbium.
[Illustration: (1.) HARP. (See page 211.)]
[Illustration: (2.) EXTERIOR OF KAFFIR HUT. (See page 56.)]
[Illustration: (3.) 1, SPOON. 2, LADLE. 3, 4, SKIMMERS. (See page 149.)]
[Illustration: (4.) WATER PIPE. (See page 164.)]
[Illustration: (5.) FOWL HOUSE. (See page 157.)]
Honey is often found in very singular places. A swarm has been known to
take possession of a human skull, and combs have been discovered in the
skeleton framework of a dead elephant.
Like many other nations, the Zulus use both poultry and their eggs for
food, and both are employed as objects of barter. The unfortunate fowls
that are selected for this purpose must be singularly uncomfortable;
for they are always tied in bundles of three, their legs being firmly
bound together. While the bargaining is in progress, the fowls are
thrown heedlessly on the ground, where they keep up a continual
cackling, as if complaining of their hard treatment. The Kaffir does
not intend to be cruel to the poor birds; but he has really no idea
that he is indicting pain on them, and will carry them for miles by the
legs, their heads hanging down, and their legs cut by the cords.
An illustration on page 155 represents one of the ingenious houses
which the Kaffirs build for their poultry. The house is made of rough
basket-work, and is then plastered thickly with clay, just like the
low walls of the cooking-house mentioned on page 139. By the side of
the henhouse is an earthenware jar, with an inverted basket by way of
cover. This jar holds corn, and in front of it is one of the primitive
grain mills. A beer bowl and its ladle are placed near the mill.
It is a curious fact that nothing can induce the Kaffirs to eat fish,
this prejudice being shared by many nations, while others derive a
great part of their subsistence from the sea and the river. They seem
to feel as much disgust at the notion of eating fish as we do at
articles of diet such as caterpillars, earthworms, spiders, and other
creatures, which are considered as dainties in some parts of the world.
In the article of diet the Zulus are curiously particular, rejecting
many articles of food which the neighboring tribes eat without scruple,
and which even the European settlers do not refuse. As has already been
mentioned, fish of all kinds is rejected, and so are reptiles. The true
Zulu will not eat any species of monkey nor the hyæna, and in this
particular we can sympathize with them. But it is certainly odd to
find that the prohibited articles of food include many of the animals
which inhabit Africa, and which are eaten not only by the other tribes,
but by the white men. The most extraordinary circumstance is, that the
Zulus will not eat the eland, an animal whose flesh is far superior
to that of any English ox, is preferred even to venison, and can be
procured in large quantities, owing to its size.
Neither will the Zulus eat the zebra, the gnu, the hartebeest, nor the
rhinoceros; and the warriors refrain from the flesh of the elephant,
the hippopotamus, and the wild swine. The objection to eat these
animals seems to have extended over a considerable portion of Southern
Africa; but when Tchaka overran the country, and swept off all the
herds of cattle, the vanquished tribes were obliged either to eat the
hitherto rejected animals or starve, and naturally preferred the former
alternative. It is probable that the custom of repudiating certain
articles of food is founded upon some of the superstitious ideas which
take the place of a religion in the Kaffir’s mind. It is certain that
superstition prohibits fowls, ducks, bustards, porcupines, and eggs, to
all except the very young and the old, because the Kaffirs think that
those who eat such food will never enjoy the honorable title of father
or mother; and, as is well known, a childless man or woman is held in
the supremest contempt.
There is perhaps no article of food more utterly hateful to the Kaffir
than the flesh of the crocodile, and it is doubtful whether even the
pangs of starvation would induce a Zulu Kaffir to partake of such
food, or to hold friendly intercourse with any one who had done so.
An amusing instance of this innate horror of the crocodile occurred
some years ago. An European settler, new to the country, had shot a
crocodile, and having heard much of the properties possessed by the
fat of the reptile, he boiled some of its flesh for the purpose of
obtaining it. Unfortunately for him, the only vessel at hand was an
iron pot, in which his Kaffir servants were accustomed to cook their
food, and, thinking no harm, he used the pot for his purpose. He could
not have done anything more calculated to shock the feelings of the
Kaffirs, who deserted him in a body, leaving the polluted vessel behind
them.
It has already been mentioned that none but a Kaffir can either drive
or milk the native cattle, and the unfortunate colonist was obliged
to visit all the kraals within reach in order to hire new servants.
But the news had spread in all directions, that the white man cooked
crocodile in his porridge pot, and not a single Kaffir would serve him.
At last he was forced to go to a considerable distance, and visited
a kraal which he thought was beyond the reach of rumor. The chief
man received him hospitably, promised to send one of his “boys” as
a servant, and volunteered permission to beat the “boy” if he were
disobedient. He finished by saying that he only made one stipulation,
and that was, that the “boy” in question should not be obliged to eat
crocodile.
It will be understood that these peculiarities regarding food
apply only to the Zulu tribe, and that, even in that tribe, great
modifications have taken place in later years.
CHAPTER XVI.
SOCIAL CHARACTERISTICS.
THE UNIVERSAL LOVE OF TOBACCO -- SNUFFING AND SMOKING -- HOW A KAFFIR
MAKES HIS SNUFF -- HOW A KAFFIR TAKES SNUFF -- THE SNUFF SPOON, ITS
FORMS, AND MODE OF USING IT -- ETIQUETTE OF SNUFF TAKING -- BEGGING
AND GIVING SNUFF -- COMPARISON WITH OUR ENGLISH CUSTOM -- DELICACY
OF THE KAFFIR’S OLFACTORY NERVES -- VARIOUS FORMS OF SNUFF BOX --
THE EAR BOX -- THE SINGULAR BLOOD BOX -- A KAFFIR’S CAPACITY FOR
MODELLING -- GOURD SNUFF BOX -- THE KAFFIR AND HIS PIPE -- PIPE
LOVERS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD -- A SINGULAR INLAID PIPE -- THE WATER
PIPE OF THE KAFFIR -- HEMP, OR DAGHA, AND ITS OPERATION ON THE SYSTEM
-- THE POOR MAN’S PIPE -- CURIOUS ACCOMPANIMENT OF SMOKING -- MAJOR
ROSS KING’S SMOKING ADVENTURE -- CULTIVATION AND PREPARATION OF
TOBACCO.
After the food of the Kaffir tribes, we naturally come to their
luxuries. One of these luxuries, namely, beer, is scarcely considered
as such by them, but is reckoned as one of the necessaries of life.
There is, however, one gratification in which the Kaffir indulges
whenever he can do so, and that is the use of tobacco, either in the
form of smoke or snuff. The love of tobacco, which is universally
prevalent over the world, is fully developed in the Kaffir, as in all
the savage tribes of Africa. For tobacco the native undergoes exertions
which no other reward would induce him to undertake. He is not at
all particular about the quality, provided that it be strong, and it
is impossible to produce tobacco that can be too coarse, rough, or
powerful for his taste. He likes to feel its effects on his system,
and would reject the finest flavored cigar for a piece of rank stick
tobacco that an English gentleman would be unable to smoke. He uses
tobacco in two forms, namely, smoke and snuff, and in both cases likes
to feel that he has the full flavor of the narcotic.
His snuff is made in a very simple manner, and is mostly manufactured
by the women. The first process is to grind the tobacco to powder
between two stones, and when it is partially rubbed down a little
water is added, so as to convert it into a paste. Meanwhile, a number
of twigs are being carefully burnt to ashes, a pure white feathery
ash being one of the chief ingredients. The leaf of the aloe,
previously dried, is often used for this purpose, and by connoisseurs
is preferred to any other material. When the snuff maker judges that
the tobacco is sufficiently ground, she spreads the paste upon a flat
stone, and places it in the rays of the sun. The great heat soon
dries up the caked tobacco, which is then rubbed until it becomes a
very fine powder. A certain proportion of wood-ash is then added and
carefully mixed, and the snuff is made. The effect of the ashes is
to give pungency to the snuff, such as cannot be obtained from the
pure tobacco. Of this snuff the Kaffirs are immoderately fond, and
even European snuff takers often prefer it to any snuff that can be
purchased. I know one African traveller, who acquired the habit of
snuff taking among the Kaffirs, and who, having learned to make snuff
in Kaffir fashion, continues to manufacture his own snuff, thinking it
superior to any that can be obtained at the tobacconists’ shops.
The manner of taking snuff is, among the Kaffirs, by no means the
simple process in use among ourselves. Snuff taking almost assumes the
character of a solemn rite, and is never performed with the thoughtless
levity of an European snuff taker. A Kaffir never thinks of taking
snuff while standing, but must needs sit down for the purpose, in some
place and at some time when he will not be disturbed. If he happens to
be a man tolerably well off, he will have a snuff spoon ready stuck in
his hair, and will draw it out. These snuff spoons are very similar in
form, although they slightly differ in detail. They are made of bone
or ivory, and consist of a small bowl set on a deeply pronged handle.
Some spoons have two prongs, but the generality have three. The bowl
is mostly hemispherical, but in some specimens it is oblong. I possess
specimens of both forms, and also a snuff spoon from Madagascar, which
is very similar both in shape and size to that which is used by the
Kaffir.
Supposing him to have a spoon, he takes his snuff box out of his ear,
or from his belt, and solemnly fills the bowl of the spoon. He then
replaces the box, inserts the bowl of the spoon into his capacious
nostrils, and with a powerful inhalation exhausts the contents. The
pungent snuff causes tears to pour down his cheeks; and as if to make
sure that they shall follow their proper course, the taker draws the
edges of his thumbs down his face, so as to make a kind of groove in
which the tears can run from the inner angle of the eyes to the corner
of the mouth. This flood of tears constitutes the Kaffir’s great
enjoyment in snuff taking, and it is contrary to all etiquette to speak
to a Kaffir, or to disturb him in any way, while he is taking his snuff.
If, as is often the case, he is not rich enough to possess a spoon, he
manages it in another fashion. Taking care to seat himself in a spot
which is sheltered from the wind, he pours the snuff on the back of his
hand, making a little conical heap that exactly coincides with his wide
nostrils. By putting the left side of his nose on the snuff heap, and
closing the other nostril with his forefinger, he contrives to absorb
it all without losing a grain of the precious substance--an act which
he would consider as the very acme of folly.
The rules of etiquette are especially minute as regards snuff taking.
It is considered bad manners to offer snuff to another, because to
offer a gift implies superiority; the principal man in each assembly
being always called upon to give snuff to the others. There is an
etiquette even in asking for snuff. If one Kaffir sees another taking
snuff, he does not ask directly for it, but puts a sidelong question,
saying, “What are you eating?” The first answer to this question is
always to the effect that he is not eating anything, which is the
polite mode of refusing the request--a refusal to the first application
being part of the same singular code of laws. When a second request is
made in the same indirect manner as the former, he pours a quantity of
snuff into the palm of his left hand, and holds it out for the other
to help himself, and, at the same time, looks carefully in another
direction, so that he may not seem to watch the quantity which is
taken, and to appear to grudge the gift. Or, if several be present,
and he is a rich man, he helps himself first, and then throws the box
to his guests, abstaining, as before, from looking at them as they
help themselves. When a chief has summoned his dependants, he calls a
servant, who holds his two open hands together, so as to form a cup.
The chief then fills his hands with snuff, and the servant carries the
valued gift to the guests as they sit around.
It has already been mentioned that when a Kaffir takes snuff, he sits
on the ground. This is one of the many small points of etiquette
which the natives observe with the minutest care. Its infringement is
looked upon not only as an instance of bad manners, but as a tacit
acknowledgment that the man who stands up while he is engaged with his
snuff with another is trying to take advantage of him. Mr. Shooter
remarks that many a man has been murdered by being entrapped into snuff
taking, and then stabbed while in a defenceless position. The very act
of holding out one hand filled with snuff, while the other is occupied
with the snuff box, prevents the donor from using his weapons, so
that he might be easily overpowered by any one who was inclined to be
treacherous.
The reader will probably have observed the analogy between this custom
and an ancient etiquette of England, a relic of which still survives
in the “grace cup” handed round at municipal banquets. There are few
points in Kaffir life more remarkable than the minute code of etiquette
concerning the use of tobacco. It must have been of very recent growth,
because tobacco, although much cultivated in Africa, is not indigenous
to that country, and has been introduced from America. It almost seems
as if some spirit of courtesy were inherent in the plant, and thus the
African black man and the American red man are perforce obliged to
observe careful ceremonial in its consumption.
It might naturally be thought that the constant inhalations of such
quantities of snuff, and that of so pungent a character, would injure
the olfactory nerves to such an extent that they would be scarcely
able to perform their office. Such, however, is not the case. The
Kaffir’s nose is a wonderful organ. It is entirely unaffected by the
abominable scent proceeding from the rancid grease with which the
natives plenteously besmear themselves, and suffers no inconvenience
from the stifling atmosphere of the hut where many inmates are
assembled. But, notwithstanding all these assaults upon it, conjoined
with the continual snuff taking, it can detect odors which are quite
imperceptible to European nostrils, and appears to be nearly as
sensitive as that of the bloodhound.
Being so fond of their snuff, the Kaffirs lavish all their artistic
powers on the boxes in which they carry so valuable a substance. They
make their snuff boxes of various materials, such as wood, bone,
ivory, horn; and just as Europeans employ gems and the precious metals
in the manufacture of their snuff boxes, so do the Kaffirs use for the
same purpose the materials they most value, and exhaust upon them the
utmost resources of their simple arts.
One of the commonest forms of snuff box is a small tube, about three
inches in length, and half an inch in diameter. This is merely a joint
of reed, with its open end secured by a plug. The natural color of the
reed is shining yellow; but the Kaffir mostly decorates it with various
patterns, made by partially charring the surface. These patterns are
differently disposed; but in general form they are very similar,
consisting of diamonds and triangles of alternate black and yellow.
This box answers another purpose besides that of holding the snuff, and
is used as an ornament. The correct method of wearing it is to make a
hole in the lobe of the ear, and push the snuff box into it. In that
position it is always at hand, and the bold black and yellow pattern
has a good effect against the dark cheek of the wearer. This box is
seen at fig. 6 of “dress and ornaments,” on page 49.
Another form of snuff box is shown at fig. 5 on the same page. This is
a small article, and is cut out of solid ivory. Much skill is shown
in the external shaping of it, and very great patience must have been
shown in scraping and polishing its surface. But this is mere child’s
play contrasted with the enormous labors of hollowing it with the very
imperfect tools possessed by a Kaffir workman. The common bottle gourd
is largely used in the manufacture of snuff boxes. Sometimes it is
merely hollowed, and furnished with a plaited leathern thong, whereby
it may be secured to the person of the owner. The hollowing process
is very simple, and consists of boring a hole in the end as the gourd
hangs on the tree, and leaving it to itself. In process of time the
whole interior decomposes, and the outer skin is baked by the sun to a
degree of hardness nearly equal to that of earthenware. This form of
snuff box is much used. As the bottle gourd attains a large size, it
is generally employed as a store box, in which snuff is kept in stock,
or by a chief of liberal ideas, who likes to hand round a large supply
among his followers. In the generality of cases it is ornamented in
some way or other. Sometimes the Kaffir decorates the whole exterior
with the angular charred pattern which has already been mentioned; but
his great delight is to cover it with beads, the ornaments which his
soul loves. These beads are most ingeniously attached to the gourd,
and fit it as closely as the protective envelope covers a Florence oil
flask.
One favorite kind of snuff box is made from the bone of a cow’s leg.
The part which is preferred is that just above the fore foot. The foot
being removed, the Kaffir measures a piece of the leg some four inches
in length, and cuts it off. From the upper part he strips the skin, but
takes care to leave a tolerably broad belt of hide at the wider end.
The bone is then polished, and is generally decorated with a rudely
engraved but moderately regular pattern, somewhat similar to that which
has been already described as placed upon the gourd. The natural hollow
is much enlarged, and the opening being closed with a stopper, the
snuff box is complete.
Sometimes the Kaffir makes his snuff box out of the horn of a young
ox; but he will occasionally go to the trouble of cutting it out of
the horn of a rhinoceros. Such a box is a valuable one, for the bone
of the rhinoceros is solid, and therefore the hollow must be made by
sheer labor, whereas that of the ox is already hollow, and only needs
to be polished. Moreover, it is not so easy to procure the horn of a
rhinoceros as that of an ox, inasmuch as the former is a powerful and
dangerous animal, and can only be obtained at the risk of life, or by
the laborious plan of digging a pitfall.
There is one form of snuff box which is, as far as I know, peculiar
to the tribes of Southern Africa, both in shape and material. The
Kaffir begins by making a clay model of some animal, and putting it
in the sun to dry. He is very expert at this art, and, as a general
rule, can imitate the various animals with such truth that they can
be immediately recognized. Of course he has but little delicacy, and
does not aim at any artistic effect; but he is thoroughly acquainted
with the salient points of the animal which he is modelling, and
renders them with a force that frequently passes into rather ludicrous
exaggeration.
The next process is a very singular one. When a cow is killed, the
Kaffir removes the hide, and lays it on the ground with the hair
downward. With the sharp blade of his assagai he then scrapes the
interior of the hide, so as to clean off the coagulated blood which
adheres to it, and collects it all in one place. With this blood he
mixes some powdered earth, and works the blood and the powder into
a paste. Of course a small quantity of animal fibre is scraped from
the hide and mixed with the paste, and aids to bind it more closely
together. The paste being ready, the Kaffir rubs it over the clay
model, taking care to lay it on of a uniform thickness. A few minutes
in the burning sunshine suffices to harden it tolerably, and then a
second coat is added. The Kaffir repeats this process until he has
obtained a coating about the twelfth of an inch in thickness. Just
before it has become quite hard, he takes his needle or a very finely
pointed assagai, and raises a kind of coarse nap on the surface, so
as to bear a rude resemblance to hair. When it is quite dry, the
Kaffir cuts a round hole in the top of the head, and with his needle
aided by sundry implements made of thorns, picks out the whole of the
clay model, leaving only the dry coating of paste. By this time the
plastic paste has hardened into a peculiar consistency. It is very
heavy in proportion to its bulk, partly on account of the earthy matter
incorporated with it, and partly on account of its extremely compact
nature. It is wonderfully strong, resisting considerable violence
without suffering any damage. It is so hard that contact with sharp
stones, spear heads, or a knife blade is perfectly innocuous, and so
elastic, that if it were dropped from the clouds upon the earth, it
would scarcely sustain any injury.
My own specimen represents an elephant, the leathern thong by which
the plug is retained being ingeniously contrived to play the part
of the proboscis. But the Kaffirs are singularly ingenious in their
manufacture of these curious snuff boxes, and imitate the form of
almost every animal in their own country. The ox and the elephant are
their favorite models: but they will sometimes make a snuff box in the
form of a rhinoceros; and the very best specimen that I have as yet
seen was in the shape of a hartebeest, the peculiar recurved horns, and
shape of the head, being rendered with wonderful truth.
Modelling must naturally imply a mind with some artistic powers; and it
is evident that any one who can form in clay a recognizable model of
any object, no matter how rude it may be, has within him some modicum
of the sculptor’s art. This implies a portion of the draughtsman’s art
also, because in the mind of the modeller there must exist a tolerably
accurate conception of the various outlines that bound the object which
he models. He can also carve very respectably in wood; and, as we have
seen--when we came to the question of a Kaffir’s food and how he eats
it--he can carve his spoons into very artistic forms, and sometimes to
the shape of certain objects, whether artificial or natural. There is
now before me an admirably executed model of the head of a buffalo,
carved by a Kaffir out of a rhinoceros horn, the peculiar sweep and
curve of the buffalo’s enormous horn being given with a truth and
freedom that are really wonderful.
Yet it is a most remarkable fact that a Kaffir, as a general rule, is
wholly incapable of understanding a drawing that includes perspective.
An ordinary outline he can understand well enough, and will recognize a
sketch of an animal, a house, or a man, and will sometimes succeed in
identifying the individual who is represented. Yet even this amount of
artistic recognition is by no means universal; and a Kaffir, on being
shown a well-executed portrait of a man, has been known to assert that
it was a lion.
But when perspective is included, the Kaffir is wholly at a loss to
comprehend it. One of my friends, who was travelling in South Africa,
halted at a well-known spot, and while there received a copy of an
illustrated newspaper, in which was an engraving of the identical
spot. He was delighted at the opportunity, and called the Kaffirs to
come and look at the print. Not one of them could form the slightest
conception of its meaning, although, by a curious coincidence, a wagon
had been represented in exactly the situation which was occupied by
that in which they were travelling. In vain did he explain the print.
Here was the wagon--there was that clump of trees--there was that
flat-topped hill--down in that direction ran that ravine--and so forth.
They listened very attentively, and then began to laugh, thinking
that he was joking with them. The wagon, which happened to be in the
foreground, they recognized, but the landscape they ignored. “That
clump of trees,” said they, “is more than a mile distant; how _can_ it
be on this flat piece of paper?” To their minds the argument was ended,
and there was no room for further discussion.
I have another snuff box, which is remarkable as being a combination
of two arts; namely, modelling and bead work. The author of this
composition does not seem to have been a man of original genius, or
to have possessed any confidence in his power of modelling. Instead
of making a clay model of some animal, he has contented himself with
imitating a gourd, one of the easiest tasks that a child of four years
old could perform. There is nothing to do but to make a ball of clay,
for the body of the box, and fix to it a small cylinder of clay for the
neck. The maker of this snuff box has been scarcely more successful
in the ornamental cover than in the box itself. With great labor he
has woven an envelope made of beads, and up to a certain point has
been successful. He has evidently possessed beads of several sizes,
and has disposed them with some ingenuity. The larger are made into
the cover for the neck of the box, a number of the very largest beads
being reserved to mark the line where the neck is worked into the body
of the bottle. All the beads are strung upon threads made of sinews,
and are managed so ingeniously that a kind of close network is formed,
which fits almost tightly to the box. But the maker has committed a
slight error in his measurements, and the consequence is that, although
the cover fits closely over the greater part of the box, it forms
several ungainly wrinkles here and there; the maker having forgotten
that, owing to the globular shape of the box, the diameter of the bead
envelope ought to have been contracted with each row of beads.
The colors of the beads are only three--namely, chalk-white, garnet,
and blue; the two latter being translucent. The groundwork is formed
of the opaque white beads, while those of the other two colors are
disposed in bands running in a slightly spiral direction.
There is now before me a most remarkable snuff box, or “iquaka,” as
the Kaffirs call it, which perplexed me exceedingly. The form is that
of a South African gourd, and it is furnished with a leathern thong,
after the pure African fashion. But the carving with which it is
almost entirely covered never was designed by a Kaffir artist. The
upper portion is cut so as to resemble the well-known concentric ivory
balls which the Chinese cut with such infinite labor, and a similar
pattern decorates the base. But the body of the gourd is covered with
outline carvings, one of which represents a peacock, a bird which
does not belong to Kaffirland, and the rest of which are very fair
representations of the rose, thistle, and shamrock. The peacock is
really well drawn, the contrast between the close plumage of the body
and the loose, discomposed feathers of the train being very boldly
marked; while the attitude of the bird, as it stands on a branch, with
reverted head, is very natural. (See page 167.) Major Ross King, to
whose collection it belongs, tells me that if he had not seen it taken
from the body of a slain warrior, he could hardly have believed that it
came from Southern Africa. He thinks that it must have been carved by a
partially civilized Hottentot, or Kaffir of exceptional intelligence,
and that the design must have been copied from some English models,
or have been furnished by an Englishman to the Kaffir, who afterward
transferred it to the gourd.
The same gentleman has also forwarded to me another gourd of the same
shape, but of much larger size, which has been used for holding amasi,
or clotted milk. This specimen is chiefly remarkable from the fact that
an accident has befallen it, and a hole made in its side. The owner has
evidently valued the gourd, and has ingeniously filled up the hole with
a patch of raw hide. The stitch much resembles that which has already
been described when treating of Kaffir costume. A row of small holes
has been drilled through the fracture, and by means of a sinew thread
the patch has been fastened over the hole. The piece of hide is rather
larger than the hole which it covers, and as it has been put on when
wet, the junction has become quite water-tight, and the patch is almost
incorporated with the gourd.
The gourd is prepared in the very simple manner that is in use among
the Kaffirs--namely, by cutting off a small portion of the neck, so
as to allow the air to enter, and thus to cause the whole of the soft
substance of the interior to decay. The severed portion of the neck is
carefully preserved, and the stopper is fixed to it in such a manner
that when the gourd is closed it seems at first sight to be entire.
These gourds are never washed, but fresh milk is continually added, in
order that it may be converted into amasi by that which is left in the
vessel.
Next to his snuffbox, the Kaffir values his pipe. There is quite as
much variety in pipes in Kaffirland as there is in Europe, and, if
possible, the material is even more varied. Reed, wood, stone, horn,
and bone are the principal materials, and the reader will see that
from them a considerable variety can be formed. The commonest pipes
are made out of wood, and are formed on the same principle as the
well-known wooden pipes of Europe. But the Kaffir has no lathe in
which he can turn the bowl smooth on the exterior, and gouge out the
wood to make its cavity. Neither has he the drills with which the
European maker pierces the stem, nor the dedicate tools which give it
so neat a finish. He has scarcely any tools but his assagai and his
needle, and yet with these rude implements he succeeds in making a very
serviceable, though not a very artistic pipe.
One of the principal points in pipe making, among the Kaffirs, is, to
be liberal as regards the size of the bowl. The smallest Kaffir pipe
is nearly three times as large as the ordinary pipe of Europe, and is
rather larger than the great porcelain pipes so prevalent in Germany.
But the tobacco used by the Germans is very mild, and is employed more
for its delicate flavor than its potency; whereas the tobacco which
a Kaffir uses is rough, coarse, rank, and extremely strong. Some of
the pipes used by these tribes are so large that a casual observer
might easily take them for ladles, and they are so heavy and unwieldy,
especially toward the bowl, that on an emergency a smoker might very
effectually use his pipe as a club, and beat off either a wild beast or
a human foe with the improvised weapon.
Generally, the bowl is merely hollowed, and then used as soon as the
wood is dry; but in some cases the dusky manufacturer improves his
pipe, or at least thinks that he does so, by lining it with a very
thin plate of sheet iron. Sometimes, though rather rarely, a peculiar
kind of stone is used for the manufacture of pipes. This stone is of a
green color, with a wavy kind of pattern, not unlike that of malachite.
Many of the natives set great store by this stone, and have almost
superstitious ideas of its value and properties.
The Kaffir possesses to the full the love of his own especial pipe,
which seems to distinguish every smoker, no matter what his country
may be. The Turk has a plain earthen bowl, but incrusts the stem with
jewels, and forms the mouthpiece of the purest amber. The German
forms the bowl of the finest porcelain, and adorns it with his own
coat of arms, or with the portrait of some bosom friend, while the
stem is decorated with silken cords and tassels of brilliant and
symbolical colors. Even the Englishman, plain and simple as are the
tastes on which he values himself, takes a special pride in a good
meerschaum, and decorates his favorite pipe with gold mounting and
amber mouthpiece. Some persons of simple taste prefer the plain wooden
or clay pipe to the costliest specimen that art can furnish; but others
pride themselves either upon the costly materials with which the pipe
is made, or the quantity of gold and silver wherewith it is decorated.
Others, again, seem to prefer forms as grotesque and fantastic as
any that are designed by the Western African negro, as is shown by
the variety of strangely-shaped pipes exhibited in the tobacconists’
windows, which would not be so abundantly produced if they did not meet
with a correspondingly large sale.
The North American Indian lavishes all his artistic powers upon his
pipe. As a warrior, upon a campaign he contents himself with a pipe
“contrived a double debt to pay,” his tomahawk being so fashioned that
the pipe bowl is sunk in the head, while the handle of the weapon is
hollowed, and becomes the stem. But, as a man of peace, he expends
his wealth, his artistic powers, and his time upon his pipe. He takes
a journey to the far distant spot in which the sacred redstone is
quarried. He utters invocations to the Great Spirit; gives offerings,
and humbly asks permission to take some of the venerated stone. He
returns home with his treasure, carves the bowl with infinite pains,
makes a most elaborate stem, and decorates it with the wampum and
feathers which are the jewelry of a savage Indian. The inhabitant of
Vancouver’s Island shapes an entire pipe, bowl and stem included, out
of solid stone, covering it with an infinity of grotesque images that
must take nearly a lifetime of labor. The native of India forms the
water-pipe, or “hubble-bubble,” out of a cocoa-nut shell and a piece
of bamboo and a clay bowl; and as long as he is a mere laborer, living
on nothing but rice, he contents himself with this simple arrangement.
But, in proportion as he becomes rich, he indicates his increasing
wealth by the appearance of his pipe; so that when he has attained
affluence, the cocoa-nut shell is incased in gold and silver filagree,
while the stem and mouthpiece are covered with gems and the precious
metals.
It is likely, therefore, that the Kaffir will expend both time and
labor upon the decoration of his pipe. Of artistic beauty he has very
little idea, and is unable to give to his pipe the flowing curves which
are found in the handiwork of the American Indian, or to produce the
rude yet vigorous designs which ornament the pipe of New Caledonia.
The form of the Kaffir’s pipe seldom varies, and the whole energies
of the owner seem to be concentrated on inlaying the bowl with lead.
The patterns which he produces are not remarkable either for beauty or
variety, and, indeed, are little more than repetitions of the zig-zag
engravings upon the snuff boxes.
There is now before me a pipe which has evidently belonged to a Kaffir
who was a skilful smith, and on which the owner has expended all his
metallurgic knowledge. The entire stem and the base of the bowl are
made of lead, and the edge of the bowl is furnished with a rim of the
same metal. The pattern which is engraved upon it is composed of lead,
and it is a remarkable fact that the lead is not merely let into the
wood, but that the bowl of the pipe is cut completely through, so that
the pattern is seen in the inside as well as on the exterior. The pipe
has never been smoked, and the pattern seems to be unfinished. The
skill which has been employed in making this pipe is very great, for it
must require no small amount of proficiency both in wood carving and
metal working, to combine the two materials together so perfectly as to
be air-tight.
The hookah, or at least a modification of this curious pipe, is in
great use among the Kaffir tribes, and is quite as ingenious a piece
of art as the “hubble-bubble” of the Indian peasant. It is made of
three distinct parts. First, there is the bowl, which is generally
carved out of stone, and is often ornamented with a deeply engraved
pattern. The commonest bowls, however, are made from earthenware, and
are very similar in shape to that of the Indian pipe. Their form very
much resembles that of a barrel, one end having a large and the other a
small aperture.
The next article is a reed some four or five inches in length, which
is fitted tightly into the smaller aperture of the bowl; the last, and
most important part, is the body of the pipe, which is always made of
the horn of some animal, that of the ox being most usually found. The
favorite horn, however, and that which is most costly, is that of the
koodoo, the magnificent spiral-horned antelope of Southern Africa. A
hole is bored into the horn at some little distance from the point,
and the reed, which has been already attached to the bowl, is thrust
into it, the junction of the reed and horn, being made air-tight. (See
illustration No. 4, page 155.)
The bowl is now filled with tobacco, or with another mixture that will
be described, and the horn nearly filled with water. In order to smoke
this pipe, the native places his mouth to the broad, open end of the
horn, presses the edge of the opening to his cheeks, so as to exclude
the air, and then inhales vigorously. The smoke is thus obliged to pass
through the water, and is partially freed from impurities before it
reaches the lips of the smoker. During its passage through the water,
it causes a loud bubbling sound, which is thought to aid the enjoyment
of the smoker. Pure tobacco is, however, seldom smoked in this pipe,
and, especially among the Damara tribe, an exceedingly potent mixture
is employed. Tobacco is used for the purpose of giving the accustomed
flavor, but the chief ingredient is a kind of hemp, called “dagha,”
which possesses intoxicating powers like those of the well-known Indian
hemp. Smoking this hemp is exalted into an important ceremony among
this people, and is conducted in the following manner:--
A number of intending smokers assemble together and sit in a circle,
having only a single water pipe, together with a supply of the needful
tobacco and the prepared hemp, called “dagha” by the natives. The first
in rank fills the pipe, lights it, and inhales as much smoke as his
lungs can contain, not permitting any of it to escape. He then hands
the pipe to the man nearest him, and closes his mouth to prevent the
smoke from escaping. The result of this proceeding is not long in
manifesting itself. Convulsions agitate the body, froth issues from the
mouth, the eyes seem to start from the head, while their brilliancy
dies away, and is replaced by a dull, film-like aspect, and the
features are contorted like those of a person attacked with epilepsy.
This stage of excitement is so powerful that the human frame cannot
endure it for any length of time, and in a minute or two the smoker
is lying insensible on the ground. As it would be dangerous to allow
a man to remain in this state of insensibility, he is roused by his
still sober comrades, who employ means, not the most gentle, to bring
him to his senses. They pull his woolly hair, they box his ears, and
they throw water over him, not in the most delicate manner, and thus
awake him from his lethargy. There are, however, instances where these
remedial means have failed, and the senseless smoker has never opened
his eyes again in this world. Whence the gratification arises is hard
to say, and the very fact that there should be any gratification at all
is quite inexplicable to an European. These dusky smokers, however,
regard the pipe as supplying one of the greatest luxuries of life, and
will sacrifice almost everything to possess it.
Although the Damara tribe are special victims to this peculiar mode
of smoking, it is practised to some extent by the Kaffirs. These,
however, are not such slaves to the pipe as the Damaras, neither do
they employ the intoxicating hemp to such an extent, but use tobacco.
Their water pipes are mostly made of an ox horn. They sometimes fasten
the bowl permanently in its place by means of a broad strap of antelope
hide, one part of which goes round the bowl, and the other round the
stem, so as to brace them firmly together by its contraction. The hair
of the antelope is allowed to remain on the skin, and, as the dark
artist has a natural eye for color, he always chooses some part of the
skin where a tolerably strong contrast of hue exists.
There is a very singular kind of pipe which seems to be in use over a
considerable portion of Southern Africa. The native of this country is
never at a loss for a pipe, and if he does not happen to possess one of
the pipes in ordinary use, he can make one in a few minutes, wherever
he may be. For this purpose he needs no tools, and requires no wood,
stone, or other material of which pipes are generally made. There is a
certain grandeur about his notion of a pipe, for he converts the earth
into that article, and the world itself becomes his tobacco pipe.
The method of making this pipe is perfectly simple. First, he pours
some water on the ground, and makes a kind of mud pie. The precise
manner in which this pie is made is depicted in Hogarth’s well-known
plate of the “Enraged Musician.” He now lays an assagai or a
knob-kerrie on the ground, and kneads the mud over the end of the shaft
so as to form a ridge some few inches in length, having a rather large
lump of mud at the end. This mud ridge is the element of the future
pipe. The next proceeding is to push the finger into the lump of mud
until it reaches the spear shaft, and then to work it about until a
cavity is made, which answers the purpose of the bowl. The assagai is
then carefully withdrawn, and the pipe is complete, the perforated mud
ridge doing duty for the stem. A few minutes in the burning sunbeams
suffices to bake the mud into a hard mass, and the pipe is ready for
use. The ingenious manufacturer then fills the bowl with tobacco and
proceeds to smoke. This enjoyment he manages to secure by lying on his
face, putting his lips upon the small orifice, and at the same time
applying a light to the tobacco in the bowl.
In some places the pipe is made in a slightly different manner. A
shallow hole is scooped in the ground, some ten or twelve inches in
diameter, and two or three deep, and the earth that has been removed is
then replaced in the hole, moistened and kneaded into a compact mud.
A green twig is then taken, bent in the form of a half circle, and
the middle of it pressed into the hole, leaving the ends projecting
at either side. Just before the mud has quite hardened, the twig is
carefully withdrawn, and at the same time the bowl is made by pushing
the finger after the twig and widening the hole. In such case the pipe
is of such a nature that an European could not smoke it, even if he
could overcome the feeling of repugnance in using it. His projecting
nose would be in the way, and his small thin lips could not take a
proper hold. But the broad nose, and large, projecting lips of the
South African native are admirably adapted for the purpose, and enable
him to perform with ease a task which would be physically impracticable
to the European. (See engraving No. 3, on opposite page.)
It is a remarkable fact that in some parts of Asia the natives
construct a pipe on the same principle. This pipe will be described in
its proper place.
When the Kaffirs can assemble for a quiet smoke, they have another
curious custom. The strong, rank tobacco excites a copious flow of
saliva, and this is disposed of in a rather strange manner. The smokers
are furnished with a tube about a yard in length, and generally a
reed, or straight branch, from which the pith has been extracted. A
peculiarly handsome specimen is usually covered with the skin of a
bullock’s tail. Through this tube the smokers in turn discharge the
superabundant moisture, and it is thought to be a delicate compliment
to select the same spot that has been previously used by another.
Sometimes, instead of a hole, a circular trench is employed, but the
mode of using it is exactly the same.
The illustration No. 4, same page, represents a couple of well-bred
gentlemen--a married man and a “boy”--indulging in a pipe in the cool
of the evening. The man has taken his turn at the pipe, and handed
it to his comrade, who inhales the smoke while he himself is engaged
with the tube above-mentioned. Wishing to give some little variety to
the occupation, he has drawn an outlined figure of a kraal, and is
just going to form one of the huts. Presently, the boy will hand the
pipe back again, exchange it for the tube, and take his turn at the
manufacture of the kraal, which will be completed by the time that the
pipe is finished.
Major Ross King describes this curious proceeding in a very amusing
manner. “Retaining the last draught of smoke in his mouth, which he
fills with a decoction of bark and water from a calabash, he squirts it
on the ground by his side, through a long ornamented tube, performing
thereon, by the aid of a reserved portion of the liquid, a sort of
boatswain’s whistle, complacently regarding the soap-like bubbles, the
joint production of himself and neighbor.
“On this occasion, finding a blanketed group sitting apart in a circle,
smoking the dagha before described, at their invitation I squatted
down cross-legged in the ring, and receiving the rude cow-horn pipe
in my turn, took a pull at its capacious mouth, coughing violently at
the suffocating fumes, as indeed they all did more or less, and after
tasting the nasty decoction of bark which followed round in a calabash,
took the politely offered spitting-tube of my next neighbor, signally
failing, however, in the orthodox whistle, to the unbounded delight of
the Fingoes, whose hearty, ringing laughter was most contagious.”
Tobacco is cultivated by several of the tribes inhabiting Southern
Africa, and is prepared in nearly the same method as is employed
in other parts of the world, the leaves being gathered, “sweated,”
and finally dried. Still, they appreciate the tobacco which they
obtain from Europeans, and prefer it to that which is manufactured by
themselves.
Some of the Kaffirs are very successful in their cultivation of
tobacco, and find that a good crop is a very valuable property. A
Kaffir without tobacco is a miserable being, and, if it were only for
his own sake, the possession of a supply which will last him throughout
the year is a subject of congratulation. But any tobacco that is not
needed for the use of himself or his household is as good as money to
the owner, as there are few things which a Kaffir loves that tobacco
cannot buy. If he sees a set of beads that particularly pleases him,
and the owner should happen to be poorer than himself, he can purchase
the finery by the sacrifice of a little of his fragrant store. Also,
he can gain the respect of the “boys,” who seldom possess property of
any kind except their shield and spears, and, by judicious gifts of
tobacco, can often make them his followers, this being the first step
toward chieftainship. Generally, a Kaffir makes up the crop of each
garden into a single bundle, sometimes weighing fifty or sixty pounds,
and carefully incases it with reeds, much after the fashion that
naval tobacco is sewed up in canvas. He is sure to place these rolls
in a conspicuous part of the house, in order to extort the envy and
admiration of his companions.
[Illustration: (1.) NECKLACE MADE OF HUMAN FINGER BONES. (See page
198.)]
[Illustration: (2.) SNUFF-BOX. (See page 163.)]
[Illustration: (3.) THE POOR MAN’S PIPE. (See page 166.)]
[Illustration: (4.) KAFFIR GENTLEMEN SMOKING. (See page 166.)]
CHAPTER XVII.
RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION.
IMPERFECT RELIGIOUS SYSTEM OF THE KAFFIR -- HIS IDEA OF A CREATOR --
HOW DEATH CAME INTO THE WORLD -- LEGENDS AND TRADITIONS -- BELIEF IN
THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL -- THE SPIRITS OF THE DEAD, AND THEIR
SUPPOSED INFLUENCE -- TCHAKA’s VISION -- A KAFFIR SEER AND HIS STORY
-- PURSUITS OF DEPARTED SPIRITS -- THE LIMITS OF THEIR POWER --
ANIMALS USED FOR SACRIFICE TO THEM -- TEMPORARY TRANSMIGRATION --
VARIOUS OMENS, AND MEANS FOR AVERTING THEM -- WHY SACRIFICES ARE MADE
-- A NATIVE’S HISTORY OF A SACRIFICE, AND ITS OBJECTS -- THE FEAST
OF FIRST-FRUITS -- SACRIFICE OF THE BULL, AND THE STRANGE CEREMONIES
WHICH ATTEND IT -- KAFFIR PROPHETS AND THEIR OFFICES -- HEREDITARY
TRANSMISSION OF PROPHECY -- PROGRESS OF A PROPHET -- THE CHANGE --
INTERVIEW WITH AN OLD PROPHET -- THE PROBATIONARY STAGES OF PROPHECY
-- A PROPHET’S RETURN TO HIS FAMILY -- SCHOOL OF THE PROPHETS --
SEARCH FOR THE SPIRITS -- THE GREAT SACRIFICE, AND RECEPTION INTO THE
COMPANY OF PROPHETS -- THE WAND OF OFFICE -- DRESS OF A PROPHET.
It is not very easy to say whether a Kaffir possesses any religion at
all, in our sense of the word. With superstition he is deeply imbued,
and passes his lifetime in considerable dread of witchcraft and of evil
spirits. But religion which conveys any sense of moral responsibility,
seems to be incomprehensible to the ordinary Kaffir, and even his
naturally logical mind inclines him to practical atheism. As far as is
known, the Kaffir tribes have a sort of tradition concerning a Creator,
whom they call by a compound word that may be translated as the
Great-Great, and to whom they attribute the first origin of all things.
But it is certain they offer him no worship, and make no prayers to
him, and have no idea that they are personally responsible to him
for their acts. Moreover many of the tribes do not even possess this
imperfect knowledge; and even in those cases where it does exist, its
origin is very uncertain, and it is impossible to ascertain whether the
tradition may not be a corrupted recollection of instruction received
from some European. Such, indeed, has been known to be the case among
the Kaffirs, and it is probable that the knowledge of a Creator is
really derived from European sources. At all events, such knowledge is
by no means universal, and exercises such small influence on the people
that it is scarcely worthy of mention.
There are, indeed, one or two legendary stories concerning the
Great-Great, relating to the creation of man, and to the duration of
human life. The man is supposed to have been created by splitting a
reed, from which the first parents of the human race proceeded. This
legend is probably due to a double meaning of the word signifying
“origin” and “create,” which also signify “reed” and “splitting.”
Another form of the tradition deprives the Great-Great of all
creatorship, and makes him to be one of the two who issued from the
split reed, so that he is rather the great ancestor of the human race
than its creator.
The tradition concerning the affliction of death upon the human race is
a very curious one, and was related to the missionaries by a native who
had been converted to Christianity.
When mankind had increased upon the earth, the Great-Great took counsel
with himself, and sent two messengers to them, one the giver of life,
the other the herald of death. The first messenger was the chameleon,
who was ordered to go and utter the proclamation, “Let not the people
die!” The chameleon set off on its mission, but lingered on the
road, stopping occasionally to eat by the way, and walking leisurely
instead of running. The second messenger was the salamander, who was
commanded to proclaim, “Let the people die!” But the latter was the
more obedient, and ran the whole of the journey, until he reached the
habitation of men, when he proclaimed his message of death. Shortly
afterward, the chameleon arrived and delivered his message, when the
salamander beat him and drove him away, as having failed in his duty
to his Master. Then the people lamented because they had received the
message of death before that of life, and from that time men have been
subject to the power of death. The consequence is, that both animals
are detested by the Kaffirs, who kill the chameleon when they find it,
because it lingered on the way, and lost them the gift of immortality.
And they are equally sure to kill the salamander, because, when it
was charged with such a dread message, it hastened on its journey,
and anticipated the chameleon in its message of life. There are
many variations of this story, but in its main points it is current
throughout many parts of Southern Africa.
Although the Kaffir’s ideas of the Creator are so vague and undefined,
he has at all events a very firm belief in the existence of the soul
and its immortality after death. Tchaka once made use of this belief
in a very ingenious manner. The people had become rather tired of war,
and required some inducement to make them welcome the order for battle
as heretofore. Whereupon, Tchaka had a vision of Umbia, a well-known
chief, who had served under his father, and who appeared to Tchaka to
tell him that his father was becoming angry with the Zulu tribe because
they had become lazy, and had not gone to war against the remaining
unconquered tribes. This laziness on the part of the Zulus who still
inhabited the earth was displeasing to the spirits of the dead, who
would be very comfortable below ground with a plenty of wives and
cattle, as soon as they saw their tribe in supreme authority over the
whole land, from the Draakensberg to the sea.
In honor of this messenger from the shades, Tchaka ordered numbers of
cattle to be slaughtered in all his military kraals, gave sumptuous
feasts, and raised the descendants of Umbia to the rank of Indunas. Of
course, the name of Umbia was in all mouths, and, while the excitement
was at its height, an old man suddenly disappeared from his hut,
having been dragged away, according to his wife’s account, by a lion.
The affair was reported to Tchaka in council, but he affected to take
no notice of it. After the lapse of three months, when the immediate
excitement had died away, the old man reappeared before Tchaka with his
head-ring torn off, and clothed in a wild and fantastic manner.
He said that the lion had dragged him away to its den, when the earth
suddenly opened and swallowed them both up. The lion accompanied him
without doing him any harm, and brought him to a place where there was
some red earth. This also gave way, and he fell into another abyss,
where he lay stunned by the fall. On recovering, he found himself
in a pleasant country, and discovered that it was inhabited by the
spirits of Zulus who had died, and whom he had known in life. There was
Senzangakona, the father of Tchaka, with his councillors, his chiefs,
his soldiers, his wives, and his cattle. Umbia was also there, and
enjoyed himself very much. Since his departure into the shades, he had
become a great doctor, and was accustomed to stroll about at night,
instead of staying at home quietly with his family. No one seemed
to know where he had gone, but he told the narrator that he used to
revisit earth in order to see his friends and relatives. For three
months the narrator was kept in the shades below, and was then told to
go back to his tribe and narrate what he had seen.
Tchaka pretended to disbelieve the narrative, and publicly treated with
contempt the man, denouncing him as a liar, and sending for prophets
who should “smell” him, and discover whether he had told the truth.
The seers arrived, performed their conjurations, “smelt” the man, and
stated that he had told the truth, that he had really visited the
spirits of the dead, and that he had been fetched by the lion because
the people did not believe the vision that had appeared to Tchaka. It
is needless to observe that the whole business had been previously
arranged by that wily chief, in order to carry out his ambitious
purposes.
Unbounded as is in one respect their reverence for the spirits of their
ancestors, they attribute to those same spirits a very limited range
of power. A Kaffir has the very highest respect for the spirits of his
own ancestors, or those of his chief, but pays not the least regard to
those which belong to other families. The spirit of a departed Kaffir
is supposed to have no sympathy except with relations and immediate
descendants.
It has been already mentioned that, after the death of a Kaffir, his
spirit is supposed to dwell in the shade below, and to have the power
of influencing the survivors of his own family, whether for good or
evil. He likes cattle to be sacrificed to his name, because, in that
case, he adds the spirits of the dead cattle to his herd below, while
his friends above eat the flesh, so that both parties are well pleased.
Sometimes, if he thinks that he has been neglected by them, he visits
his displeasure by afflicting them with various diseases, from which
they seldom expect to recover without the sacrifice of cattle. If the
ailment is comparatively trifling, the sacrifice of a goat is deemed
sufficient; but if the malady be serious, nothing but an ox, or in
some cases several oxen, are required before the offended spirits will
relent. Sheep seem never to be used for this purpose.
If the reader will refer to page 78, he will see that the sacrifice of
cattle in case of sickness forms part of a guardian’s duty toward a
young girl, and that, if her temporary guardian should have complied
with this custom, her relatives, should they he discovered, are bound
to refund such cattle.
That the spirits of the dead are allowed to quit their shadowy home
below and to revisit their friends has already been mentioned. In
some instances, as in the case of Umbia, they are supposed to present
themselves in their own form. But the usual plan is, for them to adopt
the shape of some animal which is not in the habit of entering human
dwellings, and so to appear under a borrowed form. The serpent or the
lizard shape is supposed to be the favorite mark under which the spirit
conceals its identity, and the man whose house it enters is left to
exercise his ingenuity in guessing the particular spirit that may be
enshrined in the strange animal. In order to ascertain precisely the
character of the visitor, he lays a stick gently on its back; and if it
shows no sign of anger, he is quite sure that he is favored with the
presence of one of his dead ancestors. There are few Kaffirs that will
make such a discovery, and will not offer a sacrifice at once, for the
prevalent idea in their mind is, that an ancestor would not have taken
the trouble to come on earth, except to give a warning that, unless he
were treated with more respect, some evil consequence would follow. In
consequence of this belief, most of the Kaffirs have a great dislike
to killing serpents and lizards, not knowing whether they may not be
acting rudely toward some dead ancestor who will avenge himself upon
them for their want of respect.
Should a cow or a calf enter a hut, the Kaffir would take no notice
of it, as these animals are in the habit of entering human dwellings;
but if a sheep were to do so, he would immediately fancy that it was
inspired with the shade of one of his ancestors. The same would be the
case with a wild animal of any kind, unless it were a beast of prey, in
which case it might possibly have made its way into the hut in search
of food. A similar exception would be made with regard to antelopes and
other animals which had been hunted, and had rushed into the kraal or
crept into the hut as a refuge from their foes.
Sacrifices are often made, not only to remove existing evils, but to
avert impending danger. In battle, for example, a soldier who finds
that the enemy are getting the upper hand, will make a vow to his
ancestors that if he comes safely out of the fight, he will make a
sacrifice to them, and this vow is always kept. Even if the soldier
should be a “boy,” who has no cattle, his father or nearest relation
would think himself bound to fulfil the vow. Now and then, if he
should find that the danger was not so great as was anticipated, he
will compromise the matter by offering a goat. Unless a sacrifice of
some kind were made, the vengeance of the offended spirits would be
terrible, and no Kaffir would willingly run such a risk.
Sacrifices are also offered for the purpose of obtaining certain
favors. For example, as has been already mentioned, when an army
starts on an expedition, sacrifices are made to the spirits, and a
similar rite is performed when a new kraal is built, or a new field
laid out. Relatives at home will offer sacrifices in behalf of their
absent friends; and when a chief is away from home in command of a
war expedition, the sacrifices for his welfare occur almost daily.
Sacrifices or thank-offerings ought also to be made when the spirits
have been propitious; and if the army is victorious, or the chief
returned in health, it is thought right to add another sacrifice to the
former, in token of acknowledgment that the previous offering has not
been in vain.
The Kaffir generally reserves the largest and finest ox in his herd for
sacrifice under very important circumstances, and this animal, which is
distinguished by the name of “Ox of the Spirits,” is never sold except
on pressing emergency. Mr. Shooter, who has given great attention to
the moral culture of the Kaffir tribes, remarks with much truth, that
the Kaffir’s idea of a sacrifice is simply a present of food to the
spirit. For the same reason, when an ox is solemnly sacrificed, the
prophet in attendance calls upon the spirits to come and eat, and adds
to the inducement by placing baskets of beer and vessels of snuff by
the side of the slaughtered animal. Indeed, when a man is very poor,
and has no cattle to sacrifice, he contents himself with these latter
offerings.
The account of one of these sacrifices has been translated by Mr.
Grout, from the words of a native. After mentioning a great variety
of preliminary rites, he proceeds to say, “Now some one person goes
out, and when he has come abroad, without the kraal, all who are
within their houses keep silence, while he goes round the kraal,
the outer enclosure of the kraal, and says, ‘Honor to thee, lord!’
(inkosi.) Offering prayers to the shades, he continues, ‘A blessing,
let a blessing come then, since you have really demanded your cow; let
sickness depart utterly. Thus we offer your animal.’
“And on our part we say, ‘Let the sick man come out, come forth, be
no longer sick, and slaughter your animal then, since we have now
consented that he may have it for his own use. Glory to thee, lord;
good news; come then, let us see him going about like other people. Now
then, we have given you what you want; let us therefore see whether
or not it was enjoined in order that he might recover, and that the
sickness might pass by.’
“And then, coming out, spear in hand, he enters the cattle fold, comes
up and stabs it. The cow cries, says yeh! to which he replies, ‘An
animal for the gods ought to show signs of distress’; it is all right
then, just what you required. Then they skin it, eat it, finish it.”
Sometimes the gall is eaten by the sacrificer, and sometimes it is
rubbed over the body.
Another kind of sacrifice is that which is made by the principal man of
a kraal, or even by the king himself, about the first of January, the
time when the pods of the maize are green, and are in a fit state for
food. No Kaffir will venture to eat the produce of the new year until
after the festival, which may be called the Feast of First-fruits.
The feast lasts for several days, and in order to celebrate it, the
whole army assembles, together with the young recruits who have not
yet been entrusted with shields. The prophets also assemble in great
force, their business being to invent certain modes of preparing food,
which will render the body of the consumer strong throughout the year.
At this festival, also, the veteran soldiers who have earned their
discharge are formally released from service, while the recruits are
drafted into the ranks.
The first business is, the sacrifice of the bull. For this purpose a
bull is given to the warriors, who are obliged to catch it and strangle
it with their naked hands. They are not even allowed a rope with which
to bind the animal, and the natural consequence is, that no small
amount of torture is inflicted upon the poor animal, while the warriors
are placed in considerable jeopardy of their lives. When the bull
is dead, the chief prophet opens it, and removes the gall, which he
mixes with other medicines and gives to the king and his councillors.
The dose thus prepared is always as unsavory a mixture as can well be
conceived, but the Kaffir palate is not very delicate, and suffers
little under the infliction. The body of the bull is next handed over
to the “boys,” who eat as much as they can, and are obliged to burn
the remainder. As a general rule, there is very little to be burned.
The men do not eat the flesh of this animal, but they feast to their
heart’s content on other cattle, which are slaughtered in the usual
manner. Dancing, drinking, and taking snuff now set in, and continue in
full force for several days, until not even Kaffir energy can endure
more exertion.
Then comes the part of the king. The subjects form themselves into
a vast ring, into which the king, dressed in all the bravery of his
dancing apparel, enters with a bound, amid shouts of welcome from the
people. He proceeds to indulge in one of the furious dances which the
Kaffirs love, springing high into the air, flourishing his stick of
office, and singing songs in his own praises, until he can dance and
sing no longer. Generally, this dance is not of very long duration,
as the king is almost invariably a fat and unwieldy man, and cannot
endure a prolonged exertion. The crowning incident of the feast now
takes place. The king stands in the midst of his people--Dingan always
stood on a small mound of earth--takes a young and green calabash in
his hands, and dashes it upon the ground, so as to break it in pieces;
by this act declaring the harvest begun, and the people at liberty to
eat of the fruits of the new year. A very similar ceremony takes place
among the tribes of American Indians, the consequence of which is
frequently that the people abuse the newly granted permission, and in a
few days consume all the maize that ought to have served them for the
cold months of winter.
The Kaffir has a strong belief in omens; though perhaps not stronger
than similar credulity in some parts of our own land. He is always
on the look-out for omens, and has as keen an eye for them and their
meaning as an ancient augur. Anything that happens out of the ordinary
course of events is an omen, either for good or evil, and the natural
constitution of a Kaffir’s mind always inclines him to the latter
feeling. As in the ancient days, the modern Kaffir finds most of his
omens in the actions of animals. One of the worst of omens is the
bleating of a sheep as it is being slaughtered. Some years ago this
omen occurred in the kraal belonging to one of Panda’s “indunas,”
or councillors. A prophet was immediately summoned, and a number
of sacrifices offered to avert the evil omen. Panda himself was so
uneasy that he added an ox to the sacrifices, and afterward came to
the conclusion that a man whose kraal could be visited by such an
infliction could not be fit to live. He accordingly sent a party of
soldiers to kill the induna, but the man, knowing the character of his
chief, took the alarm in time, and escaped into British territory in
Natal.
If a goat were to leap on a hut, nothing would be thought of it; but
if a dog or a sheep were to do so, it would be an omen. It is rather
remarkable that among the North American tribes the roofs of houses
form the usual resting-place of the dogs which swarm in every village.
If a cow were to eat grain that had been spilled on the ground, it
would be no omen; but if she were to push off the cover of a vessel
containing grain, and eat the contents, the act would be considered
ominous.
* * * * *
Mention has been made once or twice of the prophets, sometimes, but
erroneously, called witch doctors. These personages play a most
important part in the religious system of the Kaffir tribes; and
although their office varies slightly in detail, according to the
locality to which they belong, their general characteristics are the
same throughout the country. Their chief offices are, communicating
with the spirits of the departed, and ascertaining their wishes;
discovering the perpetrators of crimes; reversing spells thrown by
witchcraft; and lastly, and most important, rain-making.
[Illustration: (1.) THE PROPHET’S SCHOOL. (See pages 175, 176.)]
[Illustration: (2.) THE PROPHET’S RETURN.
(See Page 175.)]
The office of prophet cannot be assumed by any one who may be ambitious
of such a distinction, but is hedged about with many rites and
ceremonies. In the first place, it is not every one who is entitled
even to become a candidate for the office, which is partly hereditary.
A prophet must be descended from a prophet, though he need not be a
prophet’s son. Indeed, as a general rule, the sons of prophets do not
attain the office which their fathers held, the supernatural afflatus
generally passing over one generation, and sometimes two. In the next
place, a very long and arduous preparation is made for the office,
and the candidate, if he passes successfully through it, is solemnly
admitted into the order by a council of seers, who meet for the purpose.
When first the spirit of prophecy manifests itself to a Kaffir, he
begins by losing all his interest in the events of every-day life.
He becomes depressed in mind; prefers solitude to company; often has
fainting fits; and, what is most extraordinary of all, loses his
appetite. He is visited by dreams of an extraordinary character, mainly
relating to serpents, lions, hyænas, leopards, and other wild beasts.
Day by day he becomes more and more possessed, until the perturbations
of the spirit manifest themselves openly. In this stage of his
novitiate, the future prophet utters terrible yells, leaps here and
there with astonishing vigor, and runs about at full speed, leaping and
shrieking all the time. When thus excited he will dart into the bush,
catch snakes (which an ordinary Kaffir will not touch), tie them round
his neck, boldly fling himself into the water, and perform all kinds of
insane feats.
This early stage of a prophet’s life is called by the Kaffirs _Twasa_,
a word which signifies the change of the old moon to the new, and the
change of winter to spring in the beginning of the year. During its
progress, the head of his house is supposed to feel great pride in the
fact that a prophet is to be numbered among the family, and to offer
sacrifices for the success of the novice. When the preliminary stage is
over, the future prophet goes to some old and respected seer, gives him
a goat as a fee, and remains under his charge until he has completed
the necessary course of instruction. He then assumes the dress and
character of a prophet, and if he succeeds in his office he will rise
to unbounded power among his tribe. But should his first essay be
unsuccessful, he is universally contemned as one whom the spirits of
the departed think to be unworthy of their confidence.
Mr. Shooter gives a very graphic account of the preparation of a
prophet, who was father to one of his own servants. The reader will not
fail to notice that the man in question was entitled by birth to assume
the prophet’s office.
“Some of the particulars may be peculiar to his tribe, and some due
to the caprice of the individual. A married man (whose mother was the
daughter of a prophet) had manifested the symptoms of inspiration
when a youth; but his father, not willing to slaughter his cattle as
custom would have required, employed a seer of reputation to check the
growing ‘change.’ The dispossession was not, however, permanent; and
when the youth became a man, the inspiration returned. He professed
to have constantly recurring dreams about lions, leopards, elephants,
boa-constrictors, and all manner of wild beasts; he dreamed about the
Zulu country, and (strangest thing of all) that he had a vehement
desire to return to it.
“After a while he became very sick; his wives, thinking he was dying,
poured cold water over his prostrate person; and the chief, whose
_induna_ he was, sent a messenger to a prophet. The latter declared
that the man was becoming inspired, and directed the chief to supply
an ox for sacrifice. This was disagreeable, but that personage did
not dare to refuse, and the animal was sent; he contrived however to
delay the sacrifice, and prudently ordered that, if the patient died
in the mean time, the ox should be returned. Having begun to recover
his strength, our growing prophet cried and raved like a delirious
being, suffering no one to enter his hut, except two of his younger
children--a girl and a boy. Many of the tribe came to see him, but he
did not permit them to approach his person, and impatiently motioned
them away. In a few days he rushed out of his hut, tore away through
the fence, ran like a maniac across the grass, and disappeared in the
bush. The two children went after him; and the boy (his sister having
tired) eventually discovered him on the sea-shore. Before the child
could approach, the real or affected madman disappeared again, and was
seen no more for two or three days. He then returned home, a strange
and frightful spectacle: sickness and fasting had reduced him almost to
a skeleton; his eyes glared and stood out from his shrunken face; the
ring had been torn from his head, which he had covered with long shaggy
grass, while, to complete the hideous picture, a living serpent was
twisted round his neck. Having entered the kraal, where his wives were
in tears, and all the inmates in sorrow, he saluted them with a wild
howl to this effect: ‘People call me mad, I know they say I am mad;
that is nothing; the spirits are influencing me--the spirits of Majolo,
of Unhlovu, and of my father.’ (See the illustrations on page 173.)
“After this a sort of dance took place, in which he sung or chanted,
‘I thought I was dreaming while I was asleep, but, to my surprise, I
was not asleep.’ The women (previously instructed) broke forth into
a shrill chorus, referring to his departure from home, his visit to
the sea, and his wandering from river to river; while the men did
their part by singing two or three unmeaning syllables. The dance and
the accompanying chants were several times repeated, the chief actor
conducting himself consistently with his previous behavior.
“His dreams continued, and the people were told that he had seen a
boa-constrictor in a vision, and could point out the spot where it
was to be found. They accompanied him; and, when he had indicated the
place, they dug, and discovered two of the reptiles. He endeavored
to seize one, but the people held him back, and his son struck the
animal with sufficient force to disable but not to kill it. He was then
allowed to take the serpent, which he placed round his neck, and the
party returned home. Subsequently having (as he alleged) dreamed about
a leopard, the people accompanied him, and found it. The beast was
slain, and carried in triumph to the kraal.
“When our growing prophet returned home after his absence at the sea,
he began to slaughter his cattle, according to custom and continued
doing so at intervals until the whole were consumed. Some of them were
offered in sacrifice. As the general rule, when there is beef at a
kraal the neighbors assemble to eat it; but, when an embryo-seer slays
his cattle, those who wish to eat must previously give him something.
If however the chief were to give him a cow, the people of the tribe
would be free to go. In this case the chief had not done so, and the
visitors were obliged to buy their entertainment, one man giving a
knife, another a shilling. An individual, who was unable or unwilling
to pay, having ventured to present himself with empty hands, our
neophyte was exceedingly wroth, and, seizing a stick, gave the intruder
a significant hint, which the latter was not slow to comprehend. During
the consumption of his cattle, the neophyte disappeared again for two
days. When it was finished he went to a prophet, with whom he resided
two moons--his children taking him food; and afterward, to receive
further instruction, visited another seer. He was then considered
qualified to practise.”
The reader may remember that the novitiate prophet occasionally flings
himself into water. He chooses the clearest and deepest pool that he
can find, and the object of doing so is to try whether any of the
spirits will reveal themselves to him at the bottom of the water,
though they would not do so on dry land. In the foregoing story of a
prophet’s preparation, the narrator does not touch upon the space that
intervenes between the novitiate and the admission into the prophetic
order. This omission can be supplied by an account given to Mr. Grout,
by a native who was a firm believer in the supernatural powers of the
prophets.
The state of “change” lasts for a long time, and is generally
terminated at the beginning of the new year. He then rubs himself all
over with white clay, bedecks himself with living snakes, and goes to a
council of seers. They take him to the water--the sea, if they should
be within reach of the coast--throw him into the water, and there
leave him. He again goes off into solitude, and, when he returns, he
is accompanied by the people of his kraal, bringing oxen and goats for
sacrifice. He does not sacrifice sheep, because they are silent when
killed, whereas an ox lows, and a goat bleats, and it is needful that
any animal which is slaughtered as a sacrifice must cry out.
As they are successively sacrificed, he takes out the bladders and
gall-bags, inflates them with air, and hangs them about his body, as
companions to the snakes which he is already wearing. “He enters pools
of water, abounding in serpents and alligators. And now, if he catches
a snake, he has power over that; or if he catches a leopard, he has
power over the leopard; or if he catches a deadly-poisonous serpent,
he has power over the most poisonous serpent. And thus he takes his
degrees, the degree of leopard, that he may catch leopards, and of
serpent, that he may catch serpents.” Not until he has completed these
preparations does he begin to practise his profession, and to exact
payment from those who come to ask his advice.
I have in my possession a photograph which represents a Zulu prophet
and his wife. It is particularly valuable, as showing the singular
contrast in stature between the two sexes, the husband and wife--so
small is the latter--scarcely seeming to belong to the same race of
mankind. This, indeed, is generally the case throughout the Kaffir
tribes. The Kaffir prophet always carries a wand of office--generally a
cow’s tail, fastened to a wooden handle--and in his other hand he bears
a miniature shield and an assagai.
[Illustration: OLD PROPHETS. (See page 176.)]
The engraving opposite represents two prophets, in the full costume
of their profession. These were both celebrated men, and had attained
old age when their portraits were taken. One of them was peculiarly
noted for his skill as a rain-maker, and the other was famous for his
knowledge of medicine and the properties of herbs. Each is arrayed
in the garments suitable to the business in which he is engaged.
Although the same man is generally a rain-maker, a witch-finder, a
necromancer, and a physician, he does not wear the same costume on
all occasions, but indues the official dress which belongs to the
department, and in many cases the change is so great that the man can
scarcely be recognized. In one case, he will be dressed merely in the
ordinary Kaffir kilt, with a few inflated gall-bladders in his hair,
and a snake-skin wound over his shoulders. In another, he will have
rubbed his face and body with white earth, covered his head with such
quantities of charms that his face can hardly be seen under them,
and fringed his limbs with the tails of cows, the long hair-tufts of
goats, skins of birds, and other wild and savage adornments; while a
perpetual clanking sound is made at every movement by numbers of small
tortoise-shells strung on leathern thongs. His movements are equally
changed with his clothing; and a man who will, when invoking rain,
invest every gesture with solemn and awe-struck grace, will, when
acting as witch-finder, lash himself into furious excitement, leap
high in the air, flourish his legs and arms about as if they did not
belong to him, fill the air with his shrieks, and foam at the mouth as
if he had been taken with an epileptic fit. It is rather curious that,
while in some Kaffir tribes a man who is liable to fits is avoided
and repelled, among others he is thought to be directly inspired by
the souls of departed chiefs, and is _ipso facto_ entitled to become
a prophet, even though he be not of prophetical descent. He is one
who has been specially chosen by the spirits, and may transmit the
prophetical office to his descendants.
CHAPTER XVIII.
RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION--_Continued_.
DUTIES OF THE PROPHET -- A PROPHET AND HIS CLIENTS -- PROBABLE
RESULT OF THE INQUIRY -- A KAFFIR’S RELIEF IN CHARMS -- CHARM-STICKS
AND THEIR VARIOUS PROPERTIES -- COURAGE AND THUNDER CHARMS -- A
SOUTH AFRICAN THUNDERSTORM -- LOVE, LION, AND FATIGUE CHARMS -- THE
KAFFIR CATTLE DOCTOR -- ILLNESS OF A CHIEF -- THE WIZARD SUMMONED
-- SMELLING THE WIZARD -- A TERRIBLE SCENE -- KONA’S ILLNESS AND
ITS RESULTS -- A FEMALE PROPHET AND HER PROCEEDINGS -- INGENIOUS
MODE OF EXTORTION -- THE IMPOSTURE DETECTED -- HEREDITARY CHARACTER
OF PROPHECY -- A PROPHETESS AT HOME -- DEMEANOR OF FEMALE PROPHETS
-- SURGERY AND MEDICINE -- A PRIMITIVE MODE OF CUPPING -- A FALSE
PROPHET AND HIS FATE -- A SINGULAR SUPERSTITION -- KAFFIR VAMPIRES --
THE NIGHT CRY -- PROCURING EVIDENCE.
The object for which the Kaffir prophet is generally consulted is the
discovery of witchcraft. Now, the reader must understand that the
belief in witchcraft is universal throughout Africa, and in no part
of that continent is it so strong as in Kaffirland. There is scarcely
an ill that can befall mankind which is not believed to be caused by
witchcraft, and, consequently, the prophet has to find out the author
of the evil. The most harmless discovery that he can make is, that the
charm has not been wrought by any individual, but has been the work of
offended spirits. All illness, for example, is thought to be caused by
the spirits of the departed, either because they are offended with the
sufferer, or because they have been worked upon by some necromancer.
Mr. Shooter has so well described the course of proceeding in such a
case that his own words must be given:--
“When people consult a prophet, they do not tell him on what subject
they wish to be enlightened. He is supposed to be acquainted with their
thoughts, and they merely intimate that they wish to have the benefit
of his knowledge. Probably he will ‘take time to consider,’ and not
give his responses at once. Two young men visiting him, in consequence
of their brother’s illness, found the prophet squatting by his hut, and
saluted him. He then invited them to sit down, and, retiring outside
the kraal, squatted near the gate, to take snuff and meditate. This
done to his satisfaction, he sends a boy to call the visitors into his
presence; when they immediately join him, and squat.
“The prophet asks for his ‘assagai’--a figurative expression for his
fee--when the applicants reply that they have nothing to give at
present; after a while, they will seek something to pay him with.
‘No,’ answers the prophet, not disposed to give credit; ‘you want to
cheat me--everybody tries to do so now. Why don’t you give me two
shillings?’ They offer him a small assagai; but he is not satisfied
with the weapon, and, pointing to a larger one, says, ‘_That_ is mine.’
The man who had brought this excuses himself by saying that it does
not belong to him; but the prophet persists, and it is given. Having
no hope of extorting a larger fee, the prophet says, ‘Beat and hear,
my people.’ Each of the applicants snaps his fingers, and replies, ‘I
hear.’ The beating is sometimes, and perhaps more regularly, performed
by beating the ground with sticks. The prophet now pretends to have a
vision, indistinct at first, but becoming eventually clearer, until he
sees the actual thing which has occurred. This vision he professes to
describe as it appears to him. We may imagine him saying, for instance,
‘A cow is sick--no, I see a man; a man has been hurt.’ While he runs on
in this way, the applicants reply to every assertion by beating, as at
first, and saying, ‘I hear.’ They carefully abstain from saying whether
he is right or wrong; but when he approaches the truth, the simple
creatures testify their joy by beating and replying with increased
vigor.
“The prophet’s simulated vision is not a series of guesses, in which
he may possibly hit upon the truth, but a systematic enumeration of
particulars, in which he can scarcely miss it. Thus, he may begin by
saying that the thing which the applicants wish to know relates to
some animal with hair, and, going through each division of that class,
suggests whatever may be likely to occur to a cow, a calf, a dog. If
he find no indication that the matter relates to one of this class,
he takes another, as human beings, and proceeds through it in the
same manner. It is obvious that a tolerably clever practitioner may,
in this way, discover from the applicants whatever may have happened
to them, and send them away with a deep impression of his prophetic
abilities, especially if he have any previous knowledge of their
circumstances. The following sketch will give the reader a general idea
of the prophet’s manner of proceeding. A few particulars only, as being
sufficient for illustration, are given:--
“‘Beat and hear, my people.’
“They snap their fingers, and say, ‘I hear.’
“‘Attend, my people.’
“They beat, and say, ‘I hear.’
“‘I don’t know what you want; you want to know something about an
animal with hair. A cow is sick; what’s the matter with her? I see a
wound on her side--no; I’m wrong. A cow is lost; I see a cow in the
bush. Nay, don’t beat, my people; I’m wrong. It’s a dog; a dog has
ascended a hut.[1] Nay, that’s not it, I see now; beat vigorously; the
thing relates to people. Somebody is ill--a man is ill--he is an old
man. No; I see a woman--she has been married a year: where is she? I’m
wrong; I don’t see yet.’
[1] This, it will be remembered, is one of the evil omens which a
Kaffir fears.
“Perhaps he takes snuff, and rests a while.
“‘Beat and hear, my people. I see now; it’s a boy--beat vigorously. He
is sick. Where is he sick? Let me see--there’ (placing his hand on some
part of his own person). ‘No--beat and attend, my people--I see now.
THERE!’ (indicating the actual place). ‘Where is he? Not at his kraal;
he is working with a white man. How has he been hurt? I see him going
to the bush--he has gone to fetch wood; a piece of wood falls upon him;
he is hurt; he cannot walk. I see water; what’s the water for? They are
pouring it over him; he is fainting--he is very ill. The spirits are
angry with him--his father is angry; he wants beef. The boy received a
cow for his wages; it was a black cow. No; I see white. Where is the
white? a little on the side. The spirit wants that cow; kill it, and
the boy will recover.’”
Fortunate indeed are the spectators of the scene if the necromancer
makes such an announcement, and any one of these would be only too glad
to compound for the sacrifice of a cow, if he could be sure of escaping
accusation as a wizard. In the case of a “boy,” or even of a married
man of no great rank or wealth, such will probably be the result of the
inquiry--the prophet will get his fee, the spectators will get a feast,
and the patient may possibly get better. But when a chief is ill, the
probability is that some one will be accused of witchcraft, and if the
king is ailing such an accusation is a matter of certainty.
In the eye of a Kaffir, any one may be a witch or a wizard--both sexes
being equally liable to the impeachment--and on that subject no man
can trust his neighbor. A husband has no faith in his own wife, and
the father mistrusts his children. As a natural consequence, the faith
in charms is coextensive with the belief in witchcraft, and there is
scarcely a Kaffir who does not carry with him a whole series of charms,
each being destined to avert some particular evil. The charms are
furnished to them by the prophets, and as they never are of the least
intrinsic value, and are highly paid for, the business of a prophet
is rather a lucrative one. Anything will serve as a charm,--bits of
bone, scraps of skin, feathers, claws, teeth, roots, and bits of
wood. A Kaffir will often have a whole string of such charms hung
round his neck, and, to a European, a superstitious Kaffir has often
a very ludicrous aspect. One man, who seems to have been peculiarly
impressible to such observances, had bedecked his head with pigs’
bristles set straight, so as to stand out on all sides, like the quills
of a hedgehog, while round his neck he had strung a quantity of charms,
the principal of which were pieces of bone, the head of a snake, the
tooth of a young hippopotamus, and a _brass door-handle_. Sometimes the
charms are strung on the same thong with the beads, needles, knives,
snuff boxes, and other decorations of a Kaffir’s toilet, but generally
they are considered worthy of a string to themselves.
But the generality of charms are made of various roots and bits of
wood, which are hung round the neck, and nibbled when the wearer feels
a need of their influence. One powerful set of charms is intended for
the purpose of securing the wearer against the feeling of fear, and the
prophets have very ingeniously managed to invent a separate charm for
every kind of fear. For example, if a Kaffir has to go out at night,
and is afraid of meeting ghosts, he has recourse to his ghost-charm,
which he nibbles slightly, and then sallies out in bold defiance of the
shades below. When he has come to his journey’s end, he finds that he
has met no ghosts, and, consequently, he has unlimited faith in his
charm. If he should go into action as a soldier, he takes care to have
his enemy-charm ready for use, and just before he enters the battle
bites off a portion of the wood, masticates it thoroughly, and then
blows the fragments toward the foe, confident that he is thus taking
away from the courage of the enemy, and adding the subtracted amount to
his own. The only misgiving which disturbs his mind is, that the enemy
is doing exactly the same thing, and he cannot be quite sure that the
opposing charm may not be more potent than his own. The prophet rather
fosters than discourages this feeling, because the soldier--knowing
that, if he retreats, he will be executed as a coward--is so anxious to
possess a double share of courage that he will pay largely in order to
secure a powerful charm.
Frequently, when a soldier has been thus disgraced, his friends abuse
the prophet for furnishing so impotent a charm. His reply, however,
is always easy: “He only gave me a goat, and could only expect
goat-charms; if he wanted ox-charms, he ought to have given me a
cow, or at least a calf.” Even if an adequate fee has been paid, the
answer is equally ready--the man was a wizard, and the spirits of his
ancestors were angry with him for troubling them so much with his
conjurations.
Very few Kaffirs will venture out during the stormy season without a
thunder-charm as a preservative against lightning. This object looks
just like any other charm, and is, in fact, nothing more than a small
piece of wood or root. The Kaffir’s faith in it is unbounded, and, in
consequence of the awful severity of thunderstorms, the sale of such
charms is a very lucrative part of the prophet’s business. We can
scarcely wonder that the Kaffir has recourse to such preservatives, for
he well knows that no art of man can avail against the terrific storms
of that country. Even in our own country we often witness thunderstorms
that fill the boldest with awe, while the weaker-minded of both sexes
cower in abject fear at the crashing thunder and the vivid lightning
streaks. But the worst storm that has been known in England or the
United States is as nothing compared to the ordinary thunderstorms of
Southern Africa--storms in which the native, who has been accustomed
to them all his life, can do nothing but crouch to the ground, and lay
his hand on his mouth in silence. What an African storm can be may be
imagined from the following account by Mr. Cole:--
“Emerging after a few days from these freezing quarters, I found
myself in the plains of the Graaf-Reinet district. It was pleasant to
feel warm again, but what I gained in caloric I decidedly lost in the
picturesque: never-ending plains of burnt grass, treeless, riverless,
houseless--such were the attractions that greeted my eyes. How anything
in the vegetable or animal kingdom could exist there seemed a perfect
mystery. Yet the mystery is soon explained. I was there when there had
been a long-continued drought--one of those visitations to which these
districts are especially subject. One day the clouds began to gather,
the wind fell, the air became oppressively sultry, and all gave notice
of an approaching storm. My horses became restive and uneasy, and for
myself I felt faint and weary to excess. My after-rider looked alarmed,
for truly the heavens bore a fearful aspect. I can conceive nothing
more dismal than the deep, thick, black, impenetrable masses of clouds
that surrounded us. It might have been the entrance to the infernal
regions themselves that stood before us. Suddenly we saw a stream
of light so vivid, so intensely bright, and of such immense height
(apparently), that for a moment we were half blinded, while our horses
snorted and turned sharp round from the glare. Almost at the same
instant burst forth a peal of thunder, like the artillery of all the
universe discharged at once in our ears.
“There was no time to be lost: we struck spurs to our horses’
flanks, and galloped to a mountain side, a little way behind us,
where the quick eye of my Hottentot had observed a cave. In a few
minutes--moments rather--we were within it, but not before the storm
had burst forth in all its fury. One moment the country round us was
black as ink--the next it was a sheet of living flame, whiter than the
white heat of the furnace. One long-continued, never-ceasing roar of
thunder (not separate claps as we hear them in this country) deafened
our ears, and each moment we feared destruction; for, more than once,
huge masses of rock, detached by the lightning blast from the mountain
above us, rolled down past our cavern with the roar of an avalanche.
The Hottentot lay on his face, shutting out the sight, though he could
not escape the sound. At length the rain-spouts burst forth, and to
describe how the water deluged the earth would be impossible; suffice
it, that though we had entered the cave from the road without passing
any stream, or apparently any bed of one, when we again ventured forth
from our place of shelter, three hours later, a broad and impassable
torrent flowed between ourselves and the road, and we had to crawl
along the mountain sides on foot, with great difficulty, and in the
momentary danger of losing our footing on its slippery surface, and
being dashed into the roaring torrent, for about two miles ere we could
find a fordable spot. Two days later these plains were covered with a
lovely verdure.”
Other charms are intended for softening the heart of a girl whom a man
wants to marry, or of her father, in order to induce him to be moderate
in his demand for cows, or of the chief if he should have to prefer
a request. All these charms are exactly alike to the look, and it is
needless to say that they do not possess the least efficacy in one way
or another.
There are some charms which undoubtedly do possess some power, and
others which owe their force to the imagination of the user. The many
charms which they possess against various kinds of fear belong to this
class. For example, if a man meets a lion or a leopard, and nibbles a
little scrap of wood, it is plain that the efficiency of these charms
is wholly imaginary. In many instances this is undoubtedly the case.
If a man, meeting a lion, nibbles a little piece of lion-charm, and
the animal moves off, leaving him unmolested, his fears are certainly
allayed by the use of the charm, though his escape is due to the
natural dread of man implanted in the nature of the inferior animal,
and not to the power of the charm. In battle, too, a man who thinks
that his charms will render the enemy afraid of him is much more
likely to fight with doubled valor, and so to bring about the result
attributed to the charm. In cases of illness, too, we all know how
powerful is the healing effect of the imagination in restoration of
health.
But there are many instances where the material used as a charm
possesses medicinal properties, of which the prophet is perfectly
aware. There is, for example, one charm against weariness, the efficacy
of which clearly depends upon the properties of the material. One of my
friends, who was quite weary after a day’s hard hunting, was persuaded
by one of his Kaffir servants to eat a little of his fatigue-charm. It
was evidently made from the root of some tree, and was very bitter,
though not unpleasantly so. He tried it, simply from curiosity, and was
agreeably surprised to find that in a few minutes he felt his muscular
powers wonderfully restored, so that he was enabled to resume his feet,
and proceed briskly homeward, the extreme exhaustion having passed
away. Imagination in this case had nothing to do with the success of
the charm, and it is evident that the prophet who sold it to the Kaffir
was aware of its medicinal properties.
So deeply rooted in the Kaffir mind is the idea that all sickness
is caused by witchcraft of some kind or other, that even if cattle
are ill, their sickness is supposed to have been caused by some
supernatural power. The first course that is taken is necessarily
the propitiation of the spirits, in order that they may overrule
the machinations of the evil-doer, and preserve the cattle, which
constitute the wealth and strength of the kraal. One of the best oxen
is therefore sacrificed to them with the usual ceremonies, and, when
it is dead, the gall and contents of the stomach are scattered over the
cattle pen, and the spirits are solemnly invoked.
Here is one of these curious prayers, which was obtained from a Kaffir.
“Hail! friend! thou of this kraal, grant us a blessing, beholding what
we have done. You see this distress; remove it, since we have given you
an animal. We know not what more you want, whether you still require
anything more or not. Grant us grain that it may be abundant, that we
may eat, and not be in want of anything, since we have given you what
you want. This kraal was built by yourself, father, and now why do
you diminish your own kraal? Build on, as you have begun, let it be
larger, that your offspring, still hereabout, may increase, increasing
knowledge of you, whence cometh great power.”
The flesh of the slaughtered ox is then taken into a hut, the door is
closed, and no one is allowed to enter for a considerable time, during
which period the spirits are supposed to be eating the beef. The door
is then opened, the beef is cooked, and all who are present partake of
it. If the propitiatory sacrifice fails, a prophet of known skill is
summoned, and the herd collected in the isi-baya, or central enclosure,
in readiness against his arrival. His first proceeding is to light a
fire in the isi-baya and burn medicine upon it, taking care that the
smoke shall pass over the cattle. He next proceeds to frighten the evil
spirit out of them by a simple though remarkable proceeding. He takes a
firebrand in his hand, puts a lump of fat in his mouth, and then walks
up to one of the afflicted oxen. The animal is firmly held while he
proceeds to masticate the fat, and then to eject it on the firebrand.
The mixed fat and water make a great sputtering in the face of the ox,
which is greatly terrified, and bursts away from its tormentors.
This process is repeated upon the entire herd until they are all in a
state of furious excitement, and, as soon as they have reached that
stage, the gate of the enclosure is thrown open, and the frightened
animals dash out of it. All the inhabitants of the kraal rush after
them, the men beating their shields with their knob-kerries, the
women rattling calabashes with stones in them, and all yelling and
shouting at the top of their voices. The cattle, which are generally
treated with peculiar kindness, are quite beside themselves at such a
proceeding, and it is a considerable time before they can recover their
equanimity. This may seem to be rather a curious method of treating
the cattle disease, but, as the fee of the prophet is forfeited if the
animals are not cured, it is to be presumed that the remedy is more
efficacious than it appears to be.
When a chief of rank happens to be ill, and especially if the king
himself should be ailing, no one has the least doubt that sorcery was
the cause of the evil. And, as the chiefs are given to eating and
drinking, and smoking and sleeping, until they are so fat that they
can hardly walk, it is no wonder that they are very frequently ill. It
thus becomes the business of the prophet to find out the wizard, or
“evil-doer,” as he is called, by whom the charm was wrought.
To doubt that the illness was caused by witchcraft would be a sort of
high treason, and afford good grounds for believing that the doubter is
himself the wizard. For a Kaffir chief always chooses to think himself
above the common lot of humanity--that he is superior to others,
and that he cannot die like inferior men. It is evident, therefore,
that any ailment which may attack him must be caused by witchcraft,
and that, if the evil-doer can be detected, the spell will lose its
potency, and the sufferer be restored to health.
Charms which cause ill-health are usually roots, tufts of hair,
feathers, bits of bone, or similar objects, which have been in the
possession of the victim, or at least have been touched by him. These
are buried in some secret spot by the wizard, who mutters spells over
them, by means of which the victim droops in health in proportion as
the buried charm decays in the ground. The object of the prophet,
therefore, is twofold; first, to point out the wizard, and, secondly,
to discover the buried charms, dig them up, and reverse the spell.
The “evil-doer” is discovered by a process which is technically named
“smelling.” A large circle is formed of spectators, all of whom squat
on the ground, after the usual manner of Kaffirs. When all is ready,
the prophet clothes himself in his full official costume and proceeds
into the circle, where he is received with a great shout of welcome.
Though every one knows that before an hour has elapsed one at least
of their number will be accused of witchcraft, and though no one
knows whether he himself may not be the victim, no one dares to omit
the shout of welcome, lest he should be suspected as the wizard. The
prophet then begins to pace slowly in the circle, gradually increasing
his speed, until at last he breaks into a dance, accompanying his steps
with a measured chant. Louder and louder peals the chant, quicker and
wilder become the steps of the magic dancer, until at last the man
lashes himself into a state of insane fury, his eyes rolling, tears
streaming down his cheeks, and his chant interrupted by shrieks and
sobs, so that the spectators may well believe, as they most firmly do,
that he is possessed by the spirits of departed chiefs.
Then comes the anxious part of the ceremony. The prophet leaps in
great bounds over the arena, first rushing to one part and then to
another, inhaling his breath violently, like a dog trying to discover
a lost scent, and seeming to be attracted to or repelled from certain
individuals by a power not his own. Each Kaffir sits in trembling awe,
his heart sinking when he sees the terrible prophet coming toward him,
and his courage returning as the seer turns off in another direction.
At last the choice is made. The prophet stops suddenly opposite one
portion of the circle, and begins to sniff violently, as if trying
to discover by the sense of smell who the offender may be. The vast
assembly look on in awe-struck silence, while the prophet draws nearer
and nearer, as if he were supernaturally attracted to the object of
which he is in search. Suddenly he makes a dash forward, snatches his
wand of office out of his belt, touches the doomed man with it and runs
off. The hapless victim is instantly seized by the executioners, and
hurried off before the chief in order to be examined.
In the mean while, the prophet is followed by a number of people who
wish to see him discover the buried charm. This part of the proceeding
is very similar to that which has been mentioned. He dances through
the kraal, entering hut after hut, and pretending to be satisfied by
the sense of smell that the charm is not to be found in each place. By
degrees he approaches nearer the right spot, on which he throws his
assagai, and tells the people to dig and find the charm, which, of
course, he has previously taken care to place there. How this part of
the performance is sometimes managed will be presently narrated.
The wretched man who is once accused openly as being accessory to the
illness of his king has no hope of mercy, and yields to the dreadful
fate that awaits him. The nominal examination to which he is subjected
is no examination at all, but merely a succession of the severest
tortures that human ingenuity can suggest, prolonged as long as life
is left in him. He is asked to confess that he has used witchcraft
against his king, but invariably denies his guilt, though he well knows
the result of his answer. Torture after torture is inflicted upon him,
fire applied in various ways being the principal instrument employed.
The concluding torture is generally the same, namely, breaking a hole
in an ant’s nest, tying him hand and foot and thrusting him into the
interior, or fastening him in the ground, and breaking upon him a nest
of large ants, noted for the fierceness of their tempers, and the
agonizing venom of their stings. How ruthlessly cruel a Kaffir can be
when he is excited by the fear of witchcraft can be imagined from the
following account of the trial and execution of a supposed wizard. The
reader must, moreover, be told that the whole of the details are not
mentioned. The narrative is taken from Major W. Ross King’s interesting
“Campaigning in Kaffirland,” a work which describes the Kaffirs of
1851-2:--
“The same Kona, some years before, having fallen sick, a ‘witch doctor’
was consulted, according to custom, to ascertain the individual under
whose evil influence he was suffering; and, as usual, a man of property
was selected, and condemned to forfeit his life for his alleged crime.
To prevent his being told of his fate by his friends, a party of men
left Macomo’s kraal early in the morning to secure the recovery of the
sick young chief by murdering one of his father’s subjects. The day
selected for the sacrifice appeared to have been a sort of gala day
with the unconscious victim; he was in his kraal, had just slaughtered
one of his cattle, and was merrily contemplating the convivialities of
the day before him, over which he was about to preside. The arrival of
a party of men from the ‘great place’ gave him no other concern than
as to what part of the animal he should offer them as his guests. In a
moment, however, the ruthless party seized him in his kraal; when he
found himself secured with a rheim round his neck, he calmly said, ‘It
is my misfortune to be caught unarmed, or it should not be thus.’
“He was then ordered to produce the matter with which he had bewitched
the son of his chief. He replied, ‘I have no bewitching matter; but
destroy me quickly, if my chief has consented to my death.’ His
executioners said they must torture him until he produced it, to which
he answered, ‘Save yourselves the trouble, for torture as you will I
cannot produce what I have not.’ He was then held down on the ground,
and several men proceeded to pierce his body all over with long Kaffir
needles. The miserable victim bore this with extraordinary resolution;
his tormentors tiring, and complaining of the pain it gave their hands,
and of the needles or skewers bending.
“During this time a fire had been kindled, in which large flat stones
were placed to heat; the man was then directed to rise, they pointed
out to him the fire, telling him it was for his further torture unless
he produced the bewitching matter. He answered, ‘I told you the truth
when I said, Save yourselves the trouble; as for the hot stones, I can
bear them, for I am innocent; I would pray to be strangled at once,
but that you would say I fear your torture.’ Here his wife, who had
also been seized, was stripped perfectly naked, and cruelly beaten and
ill-treated before his eyes. The victim was then led to the fire, where
he was thrown on his back, stretched out with his arms and legs tied
to strong pegs driven into the ground, and the stones, now red-hot,
were taken out of the fire and placed on his naked body--on the groin,
stomach, and chest, supported by others on each side of him, also
heated and pressed against his body. It is impossible to describe the
awful effect of this barbarous process, the stones slipping off the
scorched and broiling flesh, being only kept in their places by the
sticks of the fiendish executioners.
“Through all this the heroic fellow still remained perfectly sensible,
and when asked if he wished to be released to discover his hidden
charm, said, ‘Release me.’ They did so, fully expecting they had
vanquished his resolution, when, to the astonishment of all, he stood
up a ghastly spectacle, broiled alive! his smoking flesh hanging in
pieces from his body! and composedly asked his tormentors, ‘What do
you wish me to do now?’ They repeated their demand, but he resolutely
asserted his innocence, and begged them to put him out of his misery;
and as they were now getting tired of their labor, they made a running
noose on the rheim around his neck, jerked him to the ground, and
savagely dragged him about on the sharp stones, then placing their feet
on the back of his neck, they drew the noose tight, and strangled him.
His mangled corpse was taken into his own hut, which was set on fire
and burnt to ashes. His sufferings commenced at ten A. M. and only
ended at sunset.”
Kona, whose illness was the cause of this fearful scene, was a son of
Macomo, the well-known Kaffir chief, who resisted the English forces
for so long a time.
It seems strange that the Kaffir should act in this manner; naturally,
he is by no means of a vindictive or cruel nature. Hot-tempered he
is, and likely enough to avenge himself when offended, by a blow of
a club or the point of an assagai. But, after the heat of the moment
has passed away, his good-humor returns, and he becomes as cheerful
and lively as ever. Even in war, as has already been mentioned, he
is not generally a cruel soldier, when not excited by actual combat,
and it seems rather strange that when a man toward whom he has felt
no enmity, and who may, perhaps, be his nearest relative, is accused
of a crime--no matter what it may be--he should be guilty, in cold
blood, of deliberate cruelty too terrible to be described. The fact
is, this conduct shows how great is his fear of the intangible power
of witchcraft. Fear is ever the parent of cruelty, and the simple fact
that a naturally kind-hearted and good-tempered man will lose all sense
of ruth, and inflict nameless tortures on his fellow, shows the abject
fear of witchcraft which fills a Kaffir’s mind.
Sometimes the prophet is not able to hide a charm in a convenient
place, and is obliged to have recourse to other means. If, for example,
it would be necessary to show that the “evil-doer” had buried the charm
in his own hut, the prophet would not be able to gain access to the
spot, and would therefore have the earth dug up, and try to convey
surreptitiously some pieces of root or bone into the hole. Mr. Isaacs
once detected a notable prophetess in this proceeding, and exposed the
trick before the assembled people.
Some of his immediate followers were ill, and they sent for a
prophetess who knew that the white man did not believe in her powers.
So she sent him a message, saying that, if he would give her a cow,
she would detect the charms that were destroying his people, and would
allow him to be present when she dug up the enchanted roots. So he sent
a cow, and two days afterward had another message, stating that the cow
was too small, and she must have a larger one, or that the difference
must be made up in calico. At the same time she asked for the services
of one of his men, named Maslamfu. He sent the calico, but declined the
latter portion of the request, knowing that the man was only wanted
as a means of gaining information. The expected day arrived, and,
on account of the celebrity of the prophetess, vast numbers of men
belonging to various tribes came in bodies, each headed by a chief of a
kraal. Messenger after messenger came to announce her advance, but she
did not make her appearance, and at last a courier came to say that the
spirit would not allow her to proceed any further until some beads were
sent to her. The chiefs, of whose arrival she had heard, and on whose
liberality she doubtlessly depended, made a collection straightway, got
together a parcel of beads, and sent the present by the messenger.
The beads having softened her heart, she made her solemn entry into
the kraal, followed by a guard of fifty warriors, all in full panoply
of war. The procession moved in solemn march to the centre of the
isi-baya, and then the warriors formed themselves in a line, their
large shields resting on the ground and covering the body as high as
the chin, and their assagais grasped in their right hands. She was also
accompanied by Maslamfu, the very man whom she had asked for, and who
was evidently an old attendant of her own. The prophetess was decorated
in the usual wild and extravagant manner, and she had improved her
complexion by painting her nose and one eyelid with charcoal, and the
other eyelid with red earth. She had also allowed all her hair to grow,
and had plastered it together with a mixture of charcoal and fat. The
usual tufted wand of office was in her hand.
Having now made her appearance, she demanded more beads, which were
given to her, in order that she should have no excuse for declining
to proceed any further in her incantations. She then began her work
in earnest, leaping and bounding from one side of the enclosure to
the other, and displaying the most wonderful agility. During this
part of the proceedings she sang a song as an accompaniment to her
dance, the words of the song itself either having no meaning, or being
quite incomprehensible to the hearers. The burden of each stanza was,
however, simple enough, and all the assembled host of Kaffirs joined in
it at the full stretch of their lungs. After rushing to several huts,
and pretending to smell them, she suddenly stopped before the white
men, who were carefully watching her, and demanded another cow, on the
plea that if the noxious charm were dug up without the sacrifice of a
second cow, the spirits would be offended. At last she received the
promise of a cow, under the proviso that the rest of the performance
was to be satisfactory.
After a variety of strange performances, she suddenly turned to her
audience, and appointed one of them to dig up the fatal soil. The
man was a great muscular Kaffir, but he trembled like a child as he
approached the sorceress, and was evidently so terrified that she
was obliged to lay a spell upon him which would counteract the evil
influence of the buried charm. She gave him an assagai by way of a
spade, a pot for the roots, and directed him successively to three
huts, making him dig in each, but was baffled by the vigilant watch
which was kept upon all her movements. Having vainly searched the
three huts, she suddenly turned and walked quickly out of the kraal,
followed by the still terrified excavator, her husband, and Maslamfu,
and proceeded to a garden, into which she flung an assagai, and told
her man to dig up the spot on which the spear fell. “Being now outdone,
and closely followed by us, and finding all her efforts to elude our
vigilance were vain, for we examined into all her tricks with the most
persevering scrutiny, she suddenly turned round, and at a quick pace
proceeded to the kraal, where she very sagaciously called for her
snuff box. _Her husband_ ran to her, and presented one. This attracted
my notice, as Maslamfu had hitherto performed the office of snuff
box bearer, and I conjectured that, instead of snuff in the box, her
husband had presented her with roots. I did not fail in my prediction;
for, as she proceeded to the upper part of the kraal, she took the
spear from the man appointed to dig, and dug herself in front of the
hut where the people had been sick, took some earth, and added it to
that in the pot; then proceeded as rapidly as possible to the calf
kraal, where she dug about two inches deep, and applied two fingers of
the left hand to scoop a little earth out, at the same time holding the
roots with her other two fingers; then, in a second, closed her hand,
mixing the roots with the earth, and putting them into the pot, saying
to the man, ‘These are the things you have been looking for.’”
[Illustration: (1.) THE PROPHETESS AT WORK. (See page 189.)]
[Illustration: (2.) UNFAVORABLE PROPHECY. (See page 199.)]
The natural end of this exposure was, that she was obliged to escape
out of the turmoil which was caused by her manifest imposture; and it
is needless to say that she did not ask for the cows.
The female professors of the art of witchcraft go through a series of
ceremonies exactly similar to those which have been already described,
and are capable of transmitting to any of their descendants the
privilege of being admitted to the same rank as themselves. As may be
gathered from the preceding account, they perform the ordinary duties
of life much as do other women, whether married or single; and it is,
perhaps, remarkable that, so far from celibacy being considered a
necessary qualification for the office, neither men nor women seem to
be eligible for it unless they are married. When once admitted into the
college of prophets, the members of it always endeavor to inspire awe
into the public by the remarkable style of adornment which they assume;
and they are considered at liberty to depart from the usual sumptuary
laws which are so strictly enforced among the Kaffir tribes, and to
dress according to their individual caprice. One of the female prophets
was visited by Captain Gardiner, and seems to have made a powerful
impression upon him, both by her dress and her demeanor.
“This woman may be styled a queen of witches, and her appearance
bespeaks her craft. Large coils of entrails stuffed with fat were
suspended round her neck; while her thick and tangled hair, stuck over
in all directions with the gall-bladders of animals, gave to her tall
figure a very singularly wild and grotesque appearance. One of her
devices, which occurred about six months ago, is too characteristic
to be omitted. Tpāi had assembled his army, and was in the act of
going out to war, a project which, for some reason, she thought it
necessary to oppose. Finding that all her dissuasions were ineffectual,
she suddenly quitted the place, and, accompanied only by a little
girl, entirely concealed herself from observation. At the expiration
of three or four days, she as mysteriously returned; and holding her
side, apparently bleeding from an assagai-wound, pretended to have
been received, in her absence, from the spirit of her late husband
Maddegān, she presented herself before Tpāi. ‘Your brother’s spirit,’
she exclaimed, ‘has met me, and here is the wound he has made in my
side with an assagai; he reproached me for remaining with people who
had treated me so ill.’ Tpāi, either willingly or actually imposed upon
by this strange occurrence, countermanded the army; and, if we are to
credit the good people in these parts, the wound immediately healed!
For several months subsequent to this period, she took it into her
head to crawl about upon her hands and knees; and it is only lately, I
understand, that she has resumed her station in society as a biped.”
One of the female prophets had a curious method of discovering an
“evil-doer.” She came leaping into the ring of assembled Kaffirs, with
great bounds of which a woman seems hardly capable. It is possible
that she previously made use of some preparation which had an exciting
effect on the brain, and assisted in working herself up to a pitch of
terrible frenzy. With her person decorated with snakes, skulls, heads
and claws of birds, and other strange objects--with her magic rattle
in one hand, and her staff of office in the other--she flew about the
circle with such erratic rapidity that the eye could scarcely follow
her movements, and no one could in the least anticipate what she would
do next. Her eyes seemed starting from her head, foam flew from her
clenched jaws, while at intervals she uttered frantic shrieks and yells
that seemed scarcely to belong to humanity. In short, her appearance
was as terrible as can well be imagined, and sure to inspire awe in the
simple-minded and superstitious audience which surrounded her. She did
not go through the usual process of smelling and crawling, but pursued
her erratic course about the ring, striking with her wand of office
the man who happened to be within its reach, and running off with an
incredible swiftness.
The illustration No. 1, on page 188, represents her engaged in her
dread office. She has been summoned by a rich chief, who is seen in the
distance, lying on his mat, and attended by his wives. The terrified
culprit is seen in the foreground, his immediate neighbors shrinking
from him as the prophetic wand touches him, while others are pointing
him out to the executioners.
There is very marked distinction between the Kaffir prophetess and
an ordinary woman, and this distinction lies principally in the gait
and general demeanor. As has already been observed, the women and
the men seem almost to belong to different races, the former being
timid, humble, and subdued, while the latter are bold, confident, and
almost haughty. The prophetess, however, having assumed so high an
office, takes upon herself a demeanor that shows her appreciation of
her own powers, and walks about with a bold, free step, that has in it
something almost regal.
In one point, both sexes are alike when they are elevated to
prophetical rank. They become absolutely ruthless in their profession,
and lost to all sense of mercy. No one is safe from them except the
king himself; and his highest and most trusted councillor never knows
whether the prophetic finger may not be pointed at him, and the
prophetic voice denounce him as a wizard. Should this be the case, his
rank, wealth, and character will avail him nothing, and he will be
seized and tortured to death as mercilessly as if he were one of the
lowest of the people.
Mixed up with these superstitious deceptions, there is among the
prophets a considerable amount of skill both in surgery and medicine.
Partly from the constant slaughter and cutting-up of cattle, and
partly from experience in warfare and executions, every Kaffir has a
tolerable notion of anatomy--far greater, indeed, than is possessed by
the generality of educated persons in our own country. Consequently, he
can undertake various surgical operations with confidence, and in some
branches of the art he is quite a proficient. For example, a Kaffir
prophet has been known to operate successfully in a case of dropsy, so
that the patient recovered; while in the reducing of dislocated joints,
the setting of fractured bones, and the treatment of wounds, he is an
adept.
A kind of cupping is much practised by the Kaffirs, and is managed in
much the same way as among ourselves, though with different and ruder
instruments. Instead of cupping glasses, they use the horn of an ox
with a hole bored through the smaller end. The operator begins his work
by pressing the large end of the horn against the part which is to be
relieved, and, applying his mouth to the other end, he sucks vigorously
until he has produced the required effect. A few gashes are then made
with the sharp blade of an assagai, the horn is again applied, and
suction employed until a sufficient amount of blood has been extracted.
As the Kaffirs are acquainted with poisons, so are they aware of the
medicinal properties possessed by many vegetable productions. Their
chief medicines are obtained from the castor-oil plant and the male
fern, and are administered for the same complaints as are treated by
the same medicines in Europe and America. Sometimes a curious mixture
of surgery and medicine is made by scarifying the skin, and rubbing
medicine into it. It is probable the “witch doctors” have a very much
wider acquaintance with herbs and their properties than they choose to
make public; and this conjecture is partly carried out by the efficacy
which certain so-called charms have on those who use them, even when
imagination does not lend her potent aid. Possessing such terrible
powers, it is not to be wondered at that the prophets will sometimes
use them for the gratification of personal revenge, or for the sake of
gain. In the former case of action, they are only impelled by their own
feelings; but to the latter they are frequently tempted by others, and
an unprincipled prophet will sometimes accumulate much wealth by taking
bribes to accuse certain persons of witchcraft.
How Tchaka contrived to work upon the feelings of the people by means
of the prophets has already been mentioned. Mr. Shooter narrates
a curious instance where a false accusation was made by a corrupt
prophet. One man cherished a violent jealousy against another named
Umpisi (_i. e._ The Hyæna), and, after many attempts, succeeded in
bribing a prophet to accuse his enemy of witchcraft. This he did in a
very curious manner, namely, by pretending to have a vision in which he
had seen a wizard scattering poison near the hut. The wizard’s name, he
said, was Nukwa. Now, Nukwa is a word used by women when they speak of
the hyæna, and therefore signified the same as Umpisi. Panda, however,
declined to believe the accusation, and no direct indictment was made.
A second accusation was, however, more successful, and the unfortunate
man was put to death. Afterward, Panda discovered the plot, and in a
rude kind of way did justice, by depriving the false prophet of all his
cattle, forbidding him to practise his art again, and consigning the
accuser to the same fate which he had caused to be inflicted on his
victim.
The Kaffirs very firmly believe in one sort of witchcraft, which is
singularly like some of the superstitious of the Middle Ages. They
fancy that the wizards have the power of transforming the dead body of
a human being into a familiar of their own, which will do all their
work, and need neither pay nor keep.
The “evil-doer” looks out for funerals, and when he finds that a
body has been interred upon which he can work his spell without fear
of discovery, he prepares his charms, and waits until after sunset.
Shielded by the darkness of midnight, he digs up the body, and, by
means of his incantations, breathes a sort of life into it, which
enables the corpse to move and to speak; the spirit of some dead wizard
being supposed to have entered into it. He then heats stones or iron
in the fire, burns a hole in the head, and through this aperture he
extracts the tongue. Further spells are then cast around the revivified
body, which have the effect of changing it into the form of some
animal, such as a hyæna, an owl, or a wild-cat; the latter being the
form most in favor with such spirits. This mystic animal then becomes
his servant, and obeys all his behests, whatever they be. By day, it
hides in darkness; but at night it comes forth to do its master’s
bidding. It cuts wood, digs and plants the garden, builds houses, makes
baskets, pots, spears, and clubs, catches game, and runs errands.
But the chief use to which it is put is to inflict sickness, or even
death, upon persons who are disliked by its master. In the dead of
night, when the Kaffirs are all at home, the goblin servant glides
toward a doomed house, and, standing outside, it cries out, “Woe! woe!
woe! to this house!” The trembling inmates hear the dread voice; but
none of them dares to go out or to answer, for they believe that if
they so much as utter a sound, or move hand or foot, they will die,
as well as the person to whom the message is sent. Should the wizard
be disturbed in his incantations, before he has had time to transform
the resuscitated body, it wanders through the country, powerful, a
messenger of evil, but an idiot, uttering cries and menaces, but not
knowing their import.
In consequence of this belief, no Kaffir dares to be seen in
communication with any creature except the recognized domestic animals,
such as cattle and fowls. Any attempt to tame a wild animal would
assuredly cause the presumptuous Kaffir to be put to death as an
“evil-doer.” A rather curious case of this kind occurred in Natal.
A woman who was passing into the bush in order to cut wood, saw a
man feeding a wild-cat--the animal which is thought to be specially
devoted to the evil spirit. Terrified at the sight, she tried to escape
unseen; but the man perceived her, pushed the animal aside, and bribed
her to be silent about what she had seen. However, she went home, and
straightway told the chief’s head wife, who told her husband, and from
that moment the man’s doom was fixed. Evidence against a supposed
wizard is always plentiful, and on this occasion it was furnished
liberally. One person had overheard a domestic quarrel, in which the
man had beaten his eldest wife, and she threatened to accuse him of
witchcraft; but he replied that she was as bad as himself, and that
if he was executed, she would suffer the same fate. Another person
had heard him say to the same wife, that they had not been found out,
and that the accusers only wanted their corn. Both man and wife were
summoned before the council, examined after the usual method, and, as a
necessary consequence, executed on the spot.
CHAPTER XIX.
SUPERSTITION--_Concluded_.
RAIN-MAKING -- EFFECTS OF A DROUGHT -- THE HIGHEST OFFICE OF A KAFFIR
PROPHET, ITS REWARDS AND ITS PERILS -- HOW THE PROPHET “MAKES RAIN”
-- INGENIOUS EVASIONS -- MR. MOFFATT’s ACCOUNT OF A RAIN-MAKER, AND
HIS PROCEEDINGS -- SUPPOSED POWERS OF EUROPEANS -- KAFFIR PROPHETS
IN 1857 -- PROGRESS OF THE WAR, AND GRADUAL REPULSE OF THE KAFFIRS
-- KRELI, THE KAFFIR CHIEF, AND HIS ADVISERS -- STRANGE PROPHECY AND
ITS RESULTS -- THE PROPHETS’ BELIEF IN THEIR OWN POWERS -- MORAL
INFLUENCE OF THE PROPHETS -- THE CELEBRATED PROPHET MAKANNA AND HIS
CAREER -- HIS RISE, CULMINATION, AND FALL -- MAKANNA’S GATHERING SONG
-- TALISMANIC NECKLACE -- THE CHARM-STICK OF THE KAFFIRS -- WHY THE
PROPHETS ARE ADVOCATES OF WAR -- A PROPHET WHO TOOK ADVICE.
The highest and most important duty which falls to the lot of the
prophets is that of rain-making. In Southern Africa, rain is the very
life of the country; and, should it be delayed beyond the usual time,
the dread of famine runs through the land. The Kaffirs certainly
possess storehouses, but not of sufficient size to hold enough grain
for the subsistence of a tribe throughout the year--nor, indeed, could
the Kaffirs be able to grow enough food for such a purpose.
During a drought, the pasture fails, and the cattle die; thus cutting
off the supply of milk, which is almost the staff of life to a
Kaffir--certainly so to his children. The very idea of such a calamity
makes every mother in Kaffirland tremble with affright, and there is
nothing which they would not do to avert it, even to the sacrifice
of their own lives. Soon the water-pools dry up, then the wells, and
lastly the springs begin to fail; and consequently disease and death
soon make dire havoc among the tribes. In this country, we can form
no conception of such a state of things, and are rather apt to suffer
from excess of rain than its absence; but the miseries which even
a few weeks’ drought in the height of summer can inflict upon this
well-watered land may enable us to appreciate some of the horrors which
accompany a drought in Southern Africa.
Among the prophets, or witch doctors, there are some who claim the
power of forcing rain to fall by their incantations. Rain-making is
the very highest office which a Kaffir prophet can perform, and there
are comparatively few who will venture to attempt it, because, in case
of failure, the wrath of the disappointed people is sometimes known to
exhibit itself in perforating the unsuccessful prophet with an assagai,
knocking out his brains with a knob-kerrie, or the more simple process
of tearing him to pieces. Those, however, who do succeed, are at once
raised to the very summit of their profession. They exercise almost
unlimited sway over their own tribe, and over any other in which there
is not a rain-maker of equal celebrity. The king is the only man who
pretends to exercise any authority over these all-powerful beings; and
even the king, irresponsible despot though he be, is obliged to be
submissive to the rain-maker while he is working his incantations.
It is, perhaps, not at all strange that the Kaffirs should place
implicit faith in the power of the rain-makers; but it is a strange
fact that the operators themselves believe in their own powers. Of
course there are many instances where a rain-maker knowingly practises
imposture; but in those cases he is mostly driven to such a course by
the menaces of those who are employing him; and, as a general fact, the
wizard believes in the efficacy of his own charms quite as firmly as
any of his followers.
A prophet who has distinguished himself as a rain-maker is soon known
far and wide, and does not restrict his practice to his own district.
Potentates from all parts of the country send for him when the drought
continues, and their own prophets fail to produce rain. In this, as in
other countries, the prophet has more honor in another land than in his
own, and the confidence placed in him is boundless. This confidence is
grounded on the fact that a rain-maker from a distant land will often
produce rain when others at home have failed. The reason is simple
enough, though the Kaffirs do not see it. By the time that the whole
series of native prophets have gone through their incantations, the
time of drought is comparatively near to a close; and, if the prophet
can only manage to stave off the actual production of rain for a
few days, he has a reasonable chance of success, as every hour is a
positive gain to him.
It is needless to mention that the Kaffirs are well acquainted with the
signs of the weather, as is always the case with those who live much in
the open air. The prophets, evidently, are more weather-wise than the
generality of their race, and, however much a rain-maker may believe
in himself, he never willingly undertakes a commission when the signs
of the sky portend a continuance of drought. Should he be absolutely
forced into undertaking the business, his only hope of escape from the
dilemma is to procrastinate as much as possible, while at the same time
he keeps the people amused. The most common mode of procrastination is
by requesting certain articles, which he knows are almost unattainable,
and saying that until he has them his incantations will have no effect.
Mr. Moffatt narrates a very amusing instance of the shifts to which a
prophet is sometimes put, when the rain will not fall, and when he is
forced to invoke it.
“The rain-maker found the clouds in our country rather harder to
manage than those he had left. He complained that secret rogues were
disobeying his proclamations. When urged to make repeated trials, he
would reply, ‘You only give me sheep and goats to kill, therefore I can
only make goat-rain; give me for slaughter oxen, and I shall let you
see ox-rain.’ One day, as he was taking a sound sleep, a shower fell,
on which one of the principal men entered his house to congratulate
him, but to his utter amazement found him totally insensible to what
was transpiring. ‘Hélaka rare!’ (Hallo, by my father!) ‘I thought you
were making rain,’ said the intruder, when, arising from his slumbers,
and seeing his wife sitting on the floor shaking a milk-sack in order
to obtain a little butter to anoint her hair, he replied, pointing to
the operation of churning, ‘Do you not see my wife churning rain as
fast as she can?’ This reply gave entire satisfaction, and it presently
spread through the length and breadth of the town, that the rain-maker
had churned the shower out of a milk-sack.
“The moisture caused by this shower was dried up by a scorching sun,
and many long weeks followed without a single cloud, and when these did
appear they might sometimes be seen, to the great mortification of the
conjurer, to discharge their watery treasures at an immense distance.
This disappointment was increased when a heavy cloud would pass over
with tremendous thunder, but not one drop of rain. There had been
several successive years of drought, during which water had not been
seen to flow upon the ground; and in that climate, if rain does not
fall continuously and in considerable quantities, it is all exhaled in
a couple of hours. In digging graves we have found the earth as dry as
dust at four or five feet depth, when the surface was saturated with
rain.
“The women had cultivated extensive fields, but the seed was lying in
the soil as it had been thrown from the hand; the cattle were dying for
want of pasture, and hundreds of living skeletons were seen going to
the fields in quest of unwholesome roots and reptiles, while many were
dying with hunger. Our sheep, as before stated, were soon likely to be
all devoured, and finding their number daily diminish, we slaughtered
the remainder and put the meat in salt, which of course was far from
being agreeable in such a climate, and where vegetables were so scarce.
“All these circumstances irritated the rain-maker very much; but he
was often puzzled to find something on which to lay the blame, for he
had exhausted his skill. One night, a small cloud passed over, and the
only flash of lightning, from which a heavy peal of thunder burst,
struck a tree in the town. Next day, the rain-maker and a number of
people assembled to perform the usual ceremony on such an event. It
was ascended, and ropes of grass and grass roots were bound round
different parts of the trunk, which in the _Acacia giraffa_ is seldom
much injured. A limb may be torn off, but of numerous trees of that
species which I have seen struck by lightning, the trunk appears to
resist its power, as the fluid produces only a stripe or groove along
the bark to the ground. When these bandages were made he deposited some
of his nostrums, and got quantities of water handed up, which he poured
with great solemnity on the wounded tree, while the assembled multitude
shouted ‘_Pùla pùla_.’ This done the tree was hewn down, dragged out of
the town, and burnt to ashes. Soon after this unmeaning ceremony, he
got large bowls of water, with which was mingled an infusion of bulbs.
All the men of the town then came together, and passed in succession
before him, when he sprinkled each with a zebra’s tail which he dipped
in the water.
“As all this and much more did not succeed, he had recourse to another
stratagem. He knew well that baboons were not very easily caught among
the rocky glens and shelving precipices, therefore, in order to gain
time, he informed the men that, to make rain, he must have a baboon;
that the animal must be without a blemish, not a hair was to be wanting
on its body. One would have thought any simpleton might have seen
through his tricks, as their being able to present him with a baboon
in that state was impossible, even though they caught him asleep.
Forth sallied a band of chosen runners, who ascended the neighboring
mountain. The baboons from their lofty domiciles had been in the
habit of looking down on the plain beneath at the natives encircling
and pursuing the quaggas and antelopes, little dreaming that one day
they would themselves be objects of pursuit. They hobbled off in
consternation, grunting, and screaming and leaping from rock to rock,
occasionally looking down on their pursuers, grinning and gnashing
their teeth. After a long pursuit, with wounded limbs, scratched
bodies, and broken toes, a young one was secured, and brought to the
town, the captors exulting as if they had obtained a great spoil. The
wily rogue, on seeing the animal, put on a countenance exhibiting the
most intense sorrow, exclaiming, ‘My heart is rent in pieces; I am
dumb with grief’; and pointing to the ear of the baboon, which was
scratched, and the tail, which had lost some hairs, added, ‘Did I not
tell you I could not make rain if there was one hair wanting?’
“After some days another was obtained; but there was still some
imperfection, real or alleged. He had often said that, if they would
procure him the heart of a lion, he would show them that he could
make rain so abundant that a man might think himself well off to be
under shelter, as when it fell it might sweep whole towns away. He had
discovered that the clouds required strong medicine, and that a lion’s
heart would do the business. To obtain this the rain-maker well knew
was no joke. One day it was announced that a lion had attacked one of
the cattle out-posts, not far from the town, and a party set off for
the twofold purpose of getting a key to the clouds and disposing of a
dangerous enemy. The orders were imperative, whatever the consequences
might be, which, in this instance, might have been very serious, had
not one of our men shot the terrific animal dead with a gun. This was
no sooner done than it was cut up for roasting and boiling; no matter
if it had previously eaten some of their relations, they ate it in
its turn. Nothing could exceed their enthusiasm when they returned to
the town, bearing the lion’s heart, and singing the conqueror’s song
in full chorus; the rain-maker prepared his medicines, kindled his
fires, and might be seen upon the top of the hill, stretching forth
his puny hands, and beckoning the clouds to draw near, or even shaking
his spear, and threatening that, if they disobeyed, they should feel
his ire. The deluded populace believed all this, and wondered the rains
would not fall.
“Asking an experienced and judicious man, the king’s uncle, how
it was that so great an operator on the clouds could not succeed,
‘Ah,’ he replied, with apparent feeling, ‘there is a cause for the
hardheartedness of the clouds if the rain-maker could only find it
out.’ A scrutinizing watch was kept upon everything done by the
missionaries. Some weeks after my return from a visit to Griqua Town,
a grand discovery was made, that the rain had been prevented by my
bringing a bag of salt from that place in my wagon. The charge was made
by the king and his attendants, with great gravity and form. As giving
the least offence by laughing at their puerile actions ought always to
be avoided when dealing with a people who are sincere though deluded,
the case was on my part investigated with more than usual solemnity.
Mothibi and his aid-de-camp accompanied me to the storehouse, where the
identical bag stood. It was open, with the white contents full in view.
‘There it is,’ he exclaimed, with an air of satisfaction. But finding,
on examination, that the reported salt was only white clay or chalk,
they could not help laughing at their own incredulity.”
An unsuccessful Kaffir prophet is never very sorry to have white
men in the country, because he can always lay the blame of failure
upon them. Should they be missionaries, the sound of the hymns is
quite enough to drive away the clouds; and should they be laymen,
any habit in which they indulged would be considered a sufficient
reason for the continuance of drought. The Kaffir always acknowledges
the superior powers of the white man, and, though he thinks his own
race far superior to any that inhabit the earth, he fancies that the
spirits which help him are not so powerful as those who aid the white
man, and that it is from their patronage, and not from any mental or
physical superiority, that he has obtained his pre-eminence. Fully
believing in his own rain-making powers, he fancies that the white
men are as superior in this art as in others, and invents the most
extraordinary theories in order to account for the fact. After their
own prophets have failed to produce rain, the Kaffirs are tolerably
sure to wait upon a missionary, and ask him to perform the office. The
process of reasoning by which they have come to the conclusion that the
missionaries can make rain is rather a curious one. As soon as the raw,
cold winds begin to blow and to threaten rain, the missionaries were
naturally accustomed to put on their overcoats when they left their
houses. These coats were usually of a dark color, and nothing could
persuade the natives but that the assumption of dark clothing was a
spell by which rain was compelled to fall.
It has just been mentioned that the prophets fully believe in their
own supernatural powers. Considering the many examples of manifest
imposture which continually take place, some of which have already
been described, most Europeans would fancy that the prophets were
intentional and consistent deceivers, and their opinion of themselves
was something like that of the old Roman augurs, who could not even
look in each other’s faces without smiling. This, however, is not the
case. Deceivers they undoubtedly are, and in many instances wilfully
so, but it is equally certain that they do believe that they are the
means of communication between the spirits of the dead and their
living relatives. No better proof of this fact can be adduced than the
extraordinary series of events which took place in 1857, in which not
only one prophet, but a considerable number of them took part, and in
which their action was unanimous. In that year, the Kaffir tribes awoke
to the conclusion that they had been gradually but surely yielding
before the European settlers, and they organized a vast conspiracy
by which they hoped to drive every white man out of Southern Africa,
and to re-establish their own supremacy. The very existence of the
colony of Natal was a thorn in their sides, as that country was
almost daily receiving reinforcements from Europe, and was becoming
gradually stronger and less likely to be conquered. Moreover, there
were continual defections of their own race; whole families, and even
the population of entire villages, were escaping from the despotic sway
of the native monarch, and taking refuge in the country protected by
the white man’s rifle. Several attempts had been previously made under
the celebrated chief Sandilli, and the equally famous prophet-warrior
Makanna, to dispossess the colonists, and in every case the Kaffir
tribes had been repulsed with great loss, and were at last forced to
offer their submission.
In 1857, however, a vast meeting was convened by Kreli, in order to
organize a regularly planned campaign, and at this meeting a celebrated
prophet was expected to be present. He did not make his appearance, but
sent a messenger, saying that the spirit had ordered the Kaffirs to
kill all their cattle. This strange mandate was obeyed by many of the
people, but others refused to obey the prophet’s order, and saved their
cattle alive. Angry that his orders had been disobeyed, the prophet
called another meeting, and had a private interview with Kreli, in
which he said that the disobedience of the people was the reason why
the white men had not been driven out of the land. But, if they would
be obedient, and slay every head of cattle in the country, except one
cow and one goat, the spirits of the dead would be propitiated by their
munificence, and would give their aid. Eight days were to be allowed
for doing the murderous work, and on the eighth--at most on the ninth
day--by means of spells thrown upon the surviving cow and goat, the
cattle would all rise again, and they would repossess the wealth which
they had freely offered. They were also ordered to throw away all the
corn in their granaries and storehouses. As a sign that the prophecy
would be fulfilled, the sun would not rise until half-past eight, it
would then turn red and go back on its course, and darkness, rain,
thunder, and lightning would warn the people of the events that were to
follow.
The work of slaughter then began in earnest: the goats and cattle were
exterminated throughout the country, and, except the two which were
to be the reserve, not a cow or a goat was left alive. With curious
inconsistency, the Kaffirs took the hides to the trading stations and
sold them, and so fast did they pour in that they were purchased for
the merest trifle, and many thousands could not be sold at all, and
were left in the interior of the country. The eighth day arrived, and
no signs were visible in the heavens. This did not disturb the Kaffirs
very much, as they relied on the promised ninth day. On that morning
not a Kaffir moved from his dwelling, but sat in the kraal, anxiously
watching the sun. From six in the morning until ten they watched its
course, but it did not change color or alter its course, and neither
the thunder, lightning, nor rain came on in token that the prophecy was
to be fulfilled.
The deluded Kaffirs then repented themselves, but too late, of their
credulity. They had killed all their cattle and destroyed all their
corn, and without these necessaries of life they knew that they must
starve. And they did indeed starve. Famine in its worst form set in
throughout the country; the children died by hundreds; none but those
of the strongest constitutions survived, and even these were mere
skeletons, worn away by privations, and equally unable to work or to
fight. By this self-inflicted blow the Kaffirs suffered far more than
they would have done in the most prolonged war, and rendered themselves
incapable of resistance for many years.
That the prophets who uttered such strange mandates must have been
believers in the truth of their art is evident enough, for they
sacrificed not only the property of others, but their own, and we
have already seen how tenaciously a Kaffir clings to his flocks and
herds. Moreover, in thus destroying all the food in the country, they
knew that they were condemning to starvation not only the country in
general, but themselves and their families, and a man is not likely
to utter prophecies which, if false, would reduce him from wealth to
poverty, and condemn himself, his family, and all the country to the
miseries of famine, did he not believe those prophecies to be true.
Although the influence exercised by the prophets is, in many cases,
wielded in an injurious manner, it is not entirely an unmixed evil.
Imperfect as their religious system is, and disastrous as are too
often the consequences, it is better than no religion at all, and at
all events it has two advantages, the one being the assertion of the
immortality of the soul, and the second the acknowledgment that there
are beings in the spiritual world possessed of far greater powers than
their own, whether for good or evil.
One of the most extraordinary of these prophets was the celebrated
Makanna, who united in his own person the offices of prophet and
general, and who ventured to oppose the English forces, and in person
to lead an attack on Grahamstown. This remarkable man laid his plans
with great care and deliberation, and did not strike a blow until
all his plots were fully developed. In the first place he contrived
to obtain considerable military information by conversation with
the soldiers, and especially the officers of the regiments who were
quartered at Grahamstown, and in this manner contrived to learn much of
the English military system, as well as of many mechanical arts.
The object which he proposed to himself is not precisely known, but as
far as can be gathered from his actions, he seems to have intended to
pursue a similar course to that which was taken by Tchaka among the
more modern Zulus, and to gather together the scattered Amakosa tribes
and to unite them in one great nation, of which he should be sole king
and priest. But his ambition was a nobler one than that of Tchaka,
whose only object was personal aggrandizement, and who shed rivers of
blood, even among his own subjects, in order to render himself supreme.
Makanna was a man of different mould, and although personal ambition
had much to do with his conduct, he was clearly inspired with a wish
to raise his people into a southern nation that should rival the great
Zulu monarchy of the north, and also, by the importation of European
ideas, to elevate the character of his subjects, and to assimilate them
as far as possible with the white men, their acknowledged superiors in
every art.
That he ultimately failed is no wonder, because he was one of those
enthusiasts who do not recognize their epoch. Most people fail in
being behind their day, Makanna failed in being before it. Enjoying
constant intercourse with Europeans, and invariably choosing for
his companions men of eminence among them, his own mind had become
sufficiently enlarged to perceive the infinite superiority of European
civilization, and to know that if he could only succeed in infusing
their ideas into the minds of his subjects, the Kosa nation would not
only be the equal of, but be far superior to the Zulu empire, which
was erected by violence and preserved by bloodshed. Conscious of the
superstitious character of his countrymen, and knowing that he would
not be able to gain sufficient influence over them unless he laid claim
to supernatural powers, Makanna announced himself to be a prophet of a
new kind. In this part of his line of conduct, he showed the same deep
wisdom that had characterized his former proceedings, and gained much
religious as well as practical knowledge from the white men, whom he
ultimately intended to destroy. He made a point of conversing as much
as possible with the clergy, and, with all a Kaffir’s inborn love of
argument, delighted in getting into controversies respecting the belief
of the Christians, and the inspiration of the Scriptures.
Keen and subtle of intellect, and possessed of wonderful oratorical
powers, he would at one time ask question after question for the
purpose of entangling his instructor in a sophism, and at another
would burst into a torrent of eloquence in which he would adroitly
make use of any unguarded expression, and carry away his audience by
the spirit and fire of his oratory. In the mean while he was quietly
working upon the minds of his countrymen so as to prepare them for his
final step; and at last, when he had thoroughly matured his plans, he
boldly announced himself as a prophet to whom had been given a special
commission from Uhlanga, the Great Spirit.
Unlike the ordinary prophets, whose utterances were all of blood and
sacrifice, either of men or animals, he imported into his new system of
religion many ideas that he had obtained from the Christian clergy, and
had the honor of being the first Kaffir prophet who ever denounced vice
and enforced morality on his followers. Not only did he preach against
vice in the abstract, but he had the courage to denounce all those who
led vicious lives, and was as unsparing toward the most powerful chiefs
as toward the humblest servant.
One chief, the renowned Gaika, was direfully offended at the prophet’s
boldness, whereupon Makanna, finding that spiritual weapons were
wasted on such a man, took to the spear and shield instead, led an
extemporized force against Gaika, and defeated him.
Having now cleared away one of the obstacles to the course of his
ambition, he thought that the time had come when he might strike a
still greater blow. The English had taken Gaika under their protection
after his defeat, and Makanna thought that he could conquer the British
forces as he had those of his countryman. Accordingly, he redoubled
his efforts to make himself revered by the Kaffir tribes. He seldom
showed himself, passing the greater part of his time in seclusion; and
when he did appear in public, he always maintained a reserved, solemn,
and abstracted air, such as befitted the character which he assumed,
namely, a prophet inspired, not by the spirits of the dead, but by
the Uhlanga, the Great Spirit himself. Now and then he would summon
the people about him, and pour out torrents of impetuous eloquence,
in which he announced his mission from above, and uttered a series of
prophecies, wild and extravagant, but all having one purport; namely,
that the spirits of their fathers would fight for the Kaffirs, and
drive the inhabitants into the sea.
Suddenly he called together his troops, and made a descent upon
Grahamstown, the whole attack being so unexpected that the little
garrison were taken by surprise; and the commander was nearly taken
prisoner as he was riding with some of his officers. More than 10,000
Kaffir warriors were engaged in the assault, while the defenders
numbered barely 350 Europeans and a few disciplined Hottentots. The
place was very imperfectly fortified, and, although a few field-guns
were in Grahamstown, they were not in position, nor were they ready for
action.
Nothing could be more gallant than the conduct of assailants and
defenders. The Kaffirs, fierce, warlike, and constitutionally brave,
rushed to the attack with wild war cries, hurling their assagais as
they advanced; and when they came to close quarters, breaking their
last weapon, and using it as a dagger. The defenders on the other
hand contended with disciplined steadiness against such fearful odds,
but the battle might have gone against them had it not been for a
timely succor. Finding that the place could not be taken by a direct
assault, Makanna detached several columns to attack it both in flank
and rear, while he kept the garrison fully employed by assailing it
in front. Just at that moment, an old experienced Hottentot captain,
named Boezak, happened to arrive at Grahamstown with a party of his
men. Without hesitation he led his little force against the enemy, and,
being familiar with Kaffir warfare, and also practised marksmen, he and
his followers neglected the rank and file of the enemy, and directed
their fire upon the leaders who were conducting the final charge. In a
few seconds a number of the most distinguished chiefs were shot down,
and the onset received a sudden check.
The Amakosa warriors soon recovered themselves and returned to the
charge, but the English had taken advantage of the brief respite,
and brought their field-guns to bear. Volley after volley of
grape-shot was poured into the thickest columns of the enemy, and the
front ranks fell like grass before the mower’s scythe. Still, the
courage of the Kaffirs, stimulated by the mystic utterances of their
prophet-general, was not quelled, and the undaunted warriors charged
up to the very mouths of the guns, stabbing with their last spears at
the artillerymen. But brave as they might be, they could not contend
against the deadly hail of grape-shot and musketry that ceaselessly
poured into their ranks, while as soon as a leader made himself
conspicuous, he was shot by Boezak and his little body of marksmen.
Makanna rallied his forces several times, but at last they were put to
flight, and he was obliged to accompany his discomfited soldiers.
Short as was this battle, it was a terrible one for the Kaffirs.
Fourteen hundred bodies were found dead on the field, while at least as
many more died of their wounds. After this decisive repulse, Makanna
surrendered himself to the English, and was sent as a prisoner to
Robben Island. Here he remained for a year, with a few followers and
slaves whom he was permitted to retain. One day he disarmed the guard,
and tried to escape in a boat, but was drowned in the attempt.
The subjoined spirited rendering of Makanna’s gathering song is by Mr.
Pringle, the poet-traveller in Southern Africa.
MAKANNA’S GATHERING.
“Wake! Amakosa, wake!
And arm yourselves for war,
As coming winds the forest shake,
I hear a sound from far:
It is not thunder in the sky.
Nor lion’s roar upon the hill,
But the voice of him who sits on high,
And bids me speak his will!
“He bids me call you forth,
Bold sons of Kahabee,
To sweep the White Man from the earth,
And drive them to the sea:
The sea, which heaved them up at first,
For Amakosa’s curse and bane,
Howls for the progeny she nursed,
To swallow them again.
“Then come, ye chieftains bold,
With war-plumes waving high;
Come, every warrior young and old,
With club and assagai.
Remember how the spoiler’s host
Did through the land like locusts range!
Your herds, your wives, your comrades lost,--
Remember, and revenge!
“Fling your broad shields away,
Bootless against such foes;
But hand to hand we’ll fight to-day,
And with the bayonets close.
Grasp each man short his stabbing spear,
And, when to battle’s edge we come,
Rush on their ranks in full career,
And to their hearts strike home!
“Wake! Amakosa, wake!
And muster for the war:
The wizard-wolves from Keisi’s brake,
The vultures from afar,
Are gathering at Uhlanga’s call,
And follow fast our westward way--
For well they know, ere evening fall,
They shall have glorious prey!”
There is now before me a remarkable necklace, which was taken from the
neck of a Kaffir who was killed in the attack of the 74th Highlanders
on the Iron Mount. (See illustration No. 1, on p. 167.) This stronghold
of the dark enemies was peculiarly well adapted for defence, and the
natives had therefore used it as a place wherein they could deposit
their stores; but, by a false move on their part, they put themselves
between two fires, and after severe loss had to abandon the post. The
necklace belongs to the collection of Major Ross King, who led the 74th
in the attack. It has evidently been used for superstitious purposes,
and has belonged to a Kaffir who was either one of the prophets, or
who intended to join that order. It is composed of human finger-bones,
twenty-seven in number, and as only the last joint of the finger is
used, it is evident that at least three men must have supplied the
bones in question. From the nature of the ornament, it is likely that
it once belonged to that class of which doctors make a living, by
pretending to detect the evil-doers who have caused the death of chiefs
and persons of rank.
As another example of the superstitious ideas of the Kaffirs, I
may here describe one of the small bags which are sometimes called
knapsacks, and sometimes “daghasacs,” the latter name being given to
them because their chief use is to hold the “dagha,” or preparation of
hemp which is so extensively used for smoking, and which was probably
the only herb that was used before the introduction of tobacco from
America.
Sometimes the daghasac is made of the skin of some small animal, taken
off entire; but in this instance it is made of small pieces of antelope
skin neatly joined together, and having some of the hair still left
in the interior. The line of junction between the upper and lower
pieces of skin is ingeniously concealed by the strings of black and
white beads which are attached to it; and the same beads serve also
to conceal a patch which is let in in one side. The bag is suspended
over the shoulders of the wearer by means of a long chain formed of
iron wire, the links of which are made so neatly that, but for a few
irregularities, they would be taken for the handiwork of an European
wire-worker.
From the end of the bag hang two thongs, each of which bears at the
extremity a valued charm. One of these articles is a piece of stick,
about three inches in length, and about as thick as an artist’s
pencil; and the other is a small sea-shell. The bone necklace, which
has just been described, does really look like a charm or an amulet;
but these two objects are so perfectly harmless in appearance that
no one would detect their character without a previous acquaintance
with the manners and customs of the natives. The stick in question is
formed of a sort of creeper, which seems to be invariably used in the
manufacture of certain charms. It has small dark leaves and pale-blue
flowers, and is found plentifully at the Cape, growing among the
“Boerbohne,” and other bushes, and twining its flexible shoots among
their branches.
Major King, to whose collection the daghasac belongs, possesses a
large specimen of the same stick, five feet in length and perfectly
straight. It was taken from the centre of a bundle of assagais that had
fallen from the grasp of a Kaffir, who was killed in a skirmish by the
Highlanders. This stick was employed as a war charm, and probably was
supposed to have the double effect of making certain the aim of the
assagais and of guarding the owner from harm. Vast numbers of those
wooden charms were issued to the soldiers by the celebrated prophet
Umlangeni, who prophesied that by his incantations the bullets of the
white man would turn to water as soon as they were fired. As the charm
cost nothing except the trouble of cutting the stick to the proper
length, and as he never issued one without a fee of some kind, it is
evident that the sacred office became in his hands a very profitable
one.
As war occupies so much of the Kaffir’s mind, it is to be expected that
the prophets encourage rather than suppress the warlike spirit of the
nation. During times of peace, the objects for which the prophet will
be consulted are comparatively few. Anxious parents may come to the
prophet for the purpose of performing some ceremony over a sick child;
or, with much apparent anxiety, a deputation from the tribe may call
him to attend upon the chief, who has made himself ill by eating too
much beef and drinking too much beer; or he may be summoned in case
of sickness, which is always a tolerably profitable business, and in
which his course of treatment is sure to be successful; or if he should
enjoy the high but perilous reputation of being a rain-maker, he may be
called upon to perform his incantations, and will consequently receive
a goodly number of presents.
These, however, are the sum of the prophet’s duties in times of peace,
and he is naturally inclined to foster a warlike disposition among
the people. The reader will remember that when Tchaka found that his
subjects were in danger of settling down to a quiet agricultural
life, he induced one of the prophets to stir up a renewal of the old
martial spirit. And we may be sure that he found no unwilling agents
in the prophets, at least three of whom must have been engaged in the
deception.
In war, however, the prophet’s services are in constant demand, and
his influence and his wealth are equally increased. He retains all
the privileges which he enjoyed in time of peace, in addition to
those which belong to him as general adviser in time of war. From the
beginning to the end of the war every one consults the prophet. When
the king forms the conception of making war, he is sure to send for
the prophet, and ask him to divine the result of the coming contest,
and whatever his advice may be it is implicitly followed. Then, after
war has been announced, another ceremony is necessary in order to
propitiate the spirits of ancestors, and cause them to fight for their
descendants, who sacrifice so many oxen to them, and thus enrich
their cattle pen in the shades below. Next comes the grand series of
ceremonies when the troops are mustered, and another, scarcely less
grand, when they march off.
In the mean time almost every soldier will want a charm of some kind
or other, and will pay for it. Moreover, he will generally owe the
sacrifice of a cow, or at least a goat, if he return home safely at the
end of a campaign, and of all sacrifices the prophet gets his share.
The old men and wives who remain at home, and are sure to feel anxious
about their husbands and children who are with the army, are equally
sure to offer sacrifices as propitiations to the spirits. When the
army returns the prophet is still in request, as he has to superintend
the various sacrifices that have been vowed by the survivors and their
friends. As to those who fell they have already paid their fees, and
for the failure of the charm there is always some excuse, which the
simple people are quite ready to believe.
Mr. Baines has kindly sent me an account of one of these prophets, and
the manner in which he performed his office. Besides the snakes, skins,
feathers, and other strange ornaments with which a Kaffir prophet is
wont to bedeck himself, he had hung round his neck a string of bones
and skulls, an amulet of which he evidently was exceedingly proud.
He was consulted by some of the soldiers about the result of the
expedition, and straightway proceeded to work. Taking off the necklace
he flung it on the ground, and then squatted down beside it, scanning
carefully the attitude assumed by every bone, and drawing therefrom his
conclusions. (See the engraving No. 2, on page 188.) At last he rose,
and stated to his awe-struck clients that before the war was over many
of them would eat dust, _i. e._ be killed.
This announcement had a great effect upon the dark soldiers, and their
spirits were sadly depressed by it. The commander, however, was a man
who was independent of such actions, and did not intend to have his
men disheartened by any prophet. So he sent for the seer in question,
and very plainly told him that his business was to foretell success,
and not failure; and that, if he did not alter his line of prophecy,
he must be prepared to take the consequences. Both the seer and the
spirits of departed chiefs took this rather strong hint, and after
that intimation the omens invariably proved to be favorable, and the
soldiers recovered their lost equanimity.
CHAPTER XX.
FUNERAL RITES.
BURIAL OF THE DEAD -- LOCALITIES OF THE TOMBS -- THE CHIEF’S LAST
RESTING-PLACE -- SACRIFICES AND LUSTRATION -- BODIES OF CRIMINALS
-- REPUGNANCE TOWARD DEAD BODIES -- ORDINARY RITES -- FUNERAL OF A
CHILD -- THE DEATH AND BURIAL OF MNANDE -- HER GENERAL CHARACTER, AND
SUSPICIOUS NATURE OF HER ILLNESS -- TCHAKA’s BEHAVIOR -- ASSEMBLAGE
OF THE PEOPLE AND TERRIBLE MASSACRE -- MNANDE’S COMPANIONS IN THE
GRAVE -- THE YEAR OF WATCHING -- A STRANGE ORDINANCE -- HOW TCHAKA
WENT OUT OF MOURNING -- A SUMMARY MODE OF SEPULTURE -- ABANDONMENT OF
THE AGED SICK -- MR. GALTON’S STORY.
Closely connected with the religion of any country is the mode in which
the bodies of the dead are disposed of.
Burial in the earth is the simplest and most natural mode of disposing
of a dead body, and this mode is adopted by the Kaffirs. There are
slight variations in the method of interment and the choice of a grave,
but the general system prevails throughout Kaffirland. The body is
never laid prostrate, as among ourselves; but a circular hole is dug
in the ground, and the body is placed in it in a sitting position,
the knees being brought to the chin, and the head bent over them.
Sometimes, and especially if there should be cause for haste, the
Kaffirs select for a grave an ant-hill, which has been ransacked by
the great ant-bear or aard-vark, and out of which the animal has torn
the whole interior with its powerful claws, leaving a mere oven-shaped
shell as hard as a brick. Generally, however, a circular hole is dug,
and the body is placed in it, as has been already mentioned. As to
the place of burial, that depends upon the rank of the dead person.
If he be the head man of a kraal he is always buried in the isi-baya,
or cattle enclosure, and the funeral is conducted with much ceremony.
During the last few days of illness, when it is evident that recovery
is impossible, the people belonging to the kraal omit the usual care
of the toilet, allowing their hair to grow as it likes, and abstaining
from the use of grease or from washing. The worst clothes are worn,
and all ornaments are removed. They also are bound to fast until the
funeral, and there is a humane custom that the children are first
supplied with an abundant meal, and not until they have eaten are they
told of their father’s death.
The actual burial is performed by the nearest relatives, and on such
an occasion it is not thought below the dignity of a man to assist in
digging the grave. The body is then placed in the grave; his spoon,
mat, pillow, and spears are laid beside him: the shafts of the latter
are always broken, and the iron heads bent, perhaps from some vague
idea that the spirit of the deceased will come out of the earth and
do mischief with them. Should he be a rich man, oxen are also killed
and placed near him, so that he may go into the land of spirits well
furnished with cattle, implements, and weapons. If the person interred
should not be of sufficient rank to be entitled to a grave in the
isi-baya, he is buried outside the kraal, and over the grave is made
a strong fence of stones or thorn-bushes, to prevent the corpse from
being disturbed by wild beasts or wizards. As soon as the funeral party
returns, the prophet sends the inhabitants of the kraal to the nearest
stream, and after they have washed therein he administers some medicine
to them, and then they are at liberty to eat and drink, to milk their
cattle, and to dress their hair. Those, however, who dug the grave and
handled the body of the dead man are obliged to undergo a double course
of medicine and lustration before they are permitted to break their
fast.
It is not every Kaffir who receives the funeral rites. Those who have
been killed by order of the king are considered unworthy of receiving
honorable sepulture, and no matter what may be the crime of which
they are accused, or whether indeed they have not been killed through
some momentary caprice of the despot, their bodies are merely dragged
away by the heels into the bush, and allowed to become the prey of
the vultures and hyænas. Except when heated by conflict, the Kaffir
has an invincible repugnance to touching a dead body, and nothing can
show greater respect for the dead than the fact, that the immediate
relatives conquer this repugnance, and perform the last office in spite
of their natural aversion to such a duty, and with full knowledge of
the long and painful fast which they must undergo.
The friends of the family then assemble near the principal hut, and
loudly bewail the loss which the kraal has sustained. An ox is killed,
and its flesh cooked as a feast for the mourners, the animal itself
being offered as a sacrifice to the departed chief. Having finished
their banquet, and exhausted all their complimentary phrases toward the
dead, they generally become anything but complimentary to the living.
Addressing the eldest son, who has now succeeded to his father’s place,
they bewail his inexperience, condole with the wives upon their hard
lot in being under the sway of one so inferior in every way to the
deceased, and give the son plenty of good advice, telling him not to
beat any of his mothers if he can keep them in order without manual
correction, to be kind to all his brothers and sisters, and to be
considerate towards the dependants. They enforce their arguments by
copious weeping. Tears always come readily to a Kaffir, but, if there
should be any difficulty in shedding them, a liberal use of pungent
snuff is sure to produce the desired result.
Such is the mode in which ordinary men and chiefs are buried. The
funerals of children are conducted in a much quicker and simpler
manner, as may be seen by the following extract from Gardiner’s work on
Southern Africa. He is describing the funeral of a child belonging to a
Kaffir with whom he was acquainted:--
“After threading an intricate path, and winding about for some little
distance, they stopped. Inquiring if that was the spot they had chosen,
Kolelwa replied, ‘You must show us.’ On being again told that it was
left entirely for his decision, they proceeded a few paces further, and
then commenced one of the most distressing scenes I ever witnessed, a
father with his own hand opening the ground with his hoe, and scooping
out a grave for his own child, assisted only by one of his wives--while
the bereaved mother, in the bitterness of her grief, seated under some
bushes like another Hagar, watched every movement, but dared not trust
herself nearer to the mournful spot.
“When all was prepared Kolelwa returned, with the wife who had assisted
him, for the body--Nombuna, the mother, still remaining half concealed
among the trees. Everything was conducted so silently that I did not
perceive their return, until suddenly turning to the spot I observed
the woman supporting the body so naturally upon her lap, as she sat on
the ground, that at first I really supposed it had been a living child.
Dipping a bundle of leafy boughs into a calabash of water, the body was
first washed by the father, and then laid by him in the grave; over
which I read a selection from the Burial Service (such portions only as
were strictly applicable); concluding with a short exhortation to those
who were present. The entire opening was then filled in with large
fagots, over which earth was thrown, and above all a considerable pile
of thorny boughs and branches heaped, in order to render it secure from
the approach of wild animals.”
In strange contrast with this touching and peaceful scene stand the
terrible rites by which Tchaka celebrated the funeral of his mother
Mnande. It has already been mentioned, on page 124, that Tchaka was
suspected, and not without reason, of having been accessory, either
actively or passively, to his mother’s death; and it was no secret
that she was a turbulent, quarrelsome, bad-tempered woman, and that
Tchaka was very glad to be rid of her. Now, although a Kaffir is much
despised if he allows his mother to exercise the least authority over
him when he has once reached adult age, and though it is thought rather
a praiseworthy act than otherwise for a young man to beat his mother,
as a proof that he is no more a child, the murder of a parent is looked
upon as a crime for which no excuse could be offered.
Irresponsible despot as was Tchaka, he was not so utterly independent
of public opinion that he could allow himself to be spoken of as a
parricide, and accordingly, as soon as his mother was beyond all chance
of recovery, he set himself to work to make his people believe that he
was really very sorry for his mother’s illness. In the first place, he
cut short a great elephant-hunting party at which he was engaged; and
although he was fully sixty miles from the kraal in which his mother
was residing, he set off at once, and arrived at home in the middle
of the following day. At Tchaka’s request, Mr. Fynn went to see the
patient, and to report whether there was any chance of her recovery.
His account of the interview and the subsequent ceremonies is as
follows:--
“I went, attended by an old chief, and found the hut filled with
mourning women, and such clouds of smoke that I was obliged to bid
them retire, to enable me to breathe within it. Her complaint was
dysentery, and I reported at once to Tchaka that her case was hopeless,
and that I did not expect that she would live through the day. The
regiments which were then sitting in a semi-circle around him were
ordered to their barracks: while Tchaka himself sat for about two
hours, in a contemplative mood, without a word escaping his lips;
several of the elder chiefs sitting also before him. When the tidings
were brought that she had expired, Tchaka immediately arose and entered
his dwelling; and having ordered the principal chiefs to put on their
war dresses, he in a few minutes appeared in his. As soon as the death
was publicly announced, the women and all the men who were present tore
instantly from their persons every description of ornament.
“Tchaka now appeared before the hut in which the body lay, surrounded
by his principal chiefs, in their war attire. For about twenty minutes
he stood in a silent, mournful attitude, with his head bowed upon his
shield, on which I saw a few large tears fall. After two or three deep
sighs, his feelings becoming ungovernable, he broke out into frantic
yells, which fearfully contrasted with the silence that had hitherto
prevailed. This signal was enough: the chief and people, to the number
of about fifteen thousand, commenced the most dismal and horrid
lamentations....
“The people from the neighboring kraals, male and female, came pouring
in; each body, as they appeared in sight, at the distance of half a
mile, joining to swell the terrible cry. Through the whole night it
continued, none daring to take rest or refresh themselves with water;
while, at short intervals, fresh bursts were heard as more distant
regiments approached. The morning dawned without any relaxation, and
before noon the number had increased to about sixty thousand. The
cries became now indescribably horrid. Hundreds were lying faint from
excessive fatigue and want of nourishment; while the carcasses of forty
oxen lay in a heap, which had been slaughtered as an offering to the
guardian spirits of the tribe.
“At noon the whole force formed a circle, with Tchaka in their centre,
and sang a war song, which afforded them some relaxation during its
continuance. At the close of it, Tchaka ordered several men to be
executed on the spot, and the cries became, if possible, more violent
than ever. No further orders were needed; but, as if bent on convincing
their chief of their extreme grief, the multitude commenced a general
massacre--many of them received the blow of death while inflicting
it on others, each taking the opportunity of revenging his injuries,
real or imaginary. Those who could no more force tears from their
eyes--those who were found near the river, panting for water--were
beaten to death by others mad with excitement. Toward the afternoon I
calculated that not fewer than seven thousand people had fallen in this
frightful, indiscriminate massacre. The adjacent stream, to which many
had fled exhausted to wet their parched tongues, became impassable from
the number of dead bodies which lay on each side of it; while the kraal
in which the scene took place was flowing with blood.”
On the second day after Mnande’s death her body was placed in a large
grave, near the spot where she had died, and ten of the best-looking
girls in the kraal were enclosed alive in the same grave. (See the
illustration opposite.) Twelve thousand men, all fully armed, attended
this dread ceremony, and were stationed as a guard over the grave
for a whole year. They were maintained by voluntary contributions of
cattle from every Zulu who possessed a herd, however small it might
be. Of course, if Tchaka could celebrate the last illness and death of
his mother with such magnificent ceremonies, no one would be likely
to think that he had any hand in her death. Extravagant as were
these rites, they did not quite satisfy the people, and the chiefs
unanimously proposed that further sacrifices should be made. They
proposed that every one should be killed who had not been present at
Mnande’s funeral; and this horrible suggestion was actually carried
out, several regiments of soldiers being sent through the country for
the purpose of executing it.
Their next proposal was that the very earth should unite in the general
mourning, and should not be cultivated for a whole year; and that no
one should be allowed either to make or eat amasi, but that the milk
should be at once poured out on the earth. These suggestions were
accepted; but, after a lapse of three months, a composition was made by
large numbers of oxen offered to Tchaka by the chiefs. The last, and
most astounding, suggestion was, that if during the ensuing year any
child should be born, or even if such an event were likely to occur,
both the parents and the child should be summarily executed. As this
suggestion was, in fact, only a carrying out, on a large scale, of the
principle followed by Tchaka in his own households, he readily gave his
consent; and during the whole of the year there was much innocent blood
shed.
After the year had expired, Tchaka determined upon another expiatory
sacrifice, as a preliminary to the ceremony by which he went out of
mourning. This, however, did not take place, owing to the remonstrances
of Mr. Fynn, who succeeded in persuading the despot to spare the lives
of his subjects. One reason why Tchaka acceded to the request was his
amusement at the notion of a white man pleading for the life of “dogs.”
[Illustration: PRESERVED HEAD. (See page 1216.) HEAD OF MUNDURUCÚ
CHIEF.]
[Illustration: BURIAL OF TCHAKA’S MOTHER. (See page 202.)]
The whole of the able-bodied part of the population had taken warning
by the massacre of the previous year, and presented themselves at the
ceremony. They were arranged in regiments, and, as soon as the chief
made his appearance, they moved simultaneously to the tops of the hills
that surrounded the great kraal in which the ceremony was to take
place. Upward of a hundred thousand oxen were brought together to grace
the ceremony, their bellowing being thought to be a grateful sound to
the spirits of the dead. Standing amidst this savage accompaniment to
his voice, Tchaka began to weep and sob loudly, the whole assembly
echoing the sound, as in duty bound, and making a most hideous din.
This noisy rite began in the afternoon, and closed at sunset, when
Tchaka ordered a quantity of cattle to be killed for a feast. Next
day came the ceremony by which Tchaka was released from his state of
mourning. Every man who owned cattle had brought at least one calf with
him, and when the king took his place in the centre of the kraal, each
man cut open the right side of the calf, tore out the gall-bladder,
and left the wretched creature to die. Each regiment then moved in
succession before Tchaka, and, as it marched slowly round him, every
man sprinkled gall over him. After he had been thus covered with gall,
he was washed by the prophets with certain preparations of their own;
and with this ceremony the whole proceedings ended, and Tchaka was out
of mourning.
It has already been mentioned that in some instances, especially those
where the dead have been murdered by command of the king, or have been
tortured to death as wizards, the bodies are merely dragged into the
bush, and are left to be devoured by the hyænas and the vultures. Cases
are also known where a person on the point of death has been thrown
into the river by the relatives before life was quite extinct. The
actors in these strange tragedies seem to have thought that the dying
person need not be particular about an hour more or less in the world,
especially as by such a proceeding they freed themselves from the hated
duty of handling a dead body. Sometimes those who are sick to death
receive even a more horrible treatment than the comparatively merciful
death by drowning, or by the jaws of crocodiles; the dying and the very
old and infirm being left to perish, with a small supply of food and
drink, enough to sustain life for a day or two. Mr. Galton relates one
such instance that occurred within his own experience.
“I saw a terrible sight on the way, which has often haunted me since.
We had taken a short cut, and were a day and a half from our wagons,
when I observed some smoke in front, and rode to see what it was. An
immense black-thorn tree was smouldering, and, from the quantity of
ashes about, there was all the appearance of its having burnt for
a long time. By it were tracks that we could make nothing of--no
footmarks, only an impression of a hand here and there. We followed
them, and found a wretched woman, most horribly emaciated; both her
feet were burnt quite off, and the wounds were open and unhealed. Her
account was that, many days back, she and others were encamping there;
and when she was asleep, a dry but standing tree, which they had set
fire to, fell down and entangled her among its branches: there she was
burnt before she could extricate herself, and her people left her.
She had since lived on gum alone, of which there were vast quantities
about: it oozes down from the trees, and forms large cakes in the sand.
There was water close by, for she was on the edge of a river-bed. I did
not know what to do with her; I had no means of conveying her anywhere,
nor any place to convey her to.
“The Damaras kill useless and worn-out people--even sons smother their
sick fathers; and death was not far from her. I had three sheep with
me; so I off-packed, and killed one. She seemed ravenous; and, though
I purposely had off-packed some two hundred yards from her, yet the
poor wretch kept crawling and dragging herself up to me, and would not
be withheld, for fear I should forget to give her the food I promised.
When it was ready, and she had devoured what I gave her, the meat
acted as it often does in such cases, and fairly intoxicated her; she
attempted to stand, regardless of the pain, and sang, and tossed her
lean arms about. It was perfectly sickening to witness the spectacle. I
did the only thing I could; I cut the rest of the meat in strips, and
hung it within her reach, and where the sun would jerk (_i. e._ dry and
preserve) it. It was many days’ provision for her. I saw she had water,
firewood, and gum in abundance, and then I left her to her fate.”
This event took place among the Damaras; but Captain Gardiner mentions
that among the Zulus a dying woman was carried into the bush, and
left there to perish in solitude. That such a custom does prevail is
evident, and it is likely that it may be more frequently practised
than is generally supposed. People of rank are tended carefully enough
during sickness; but men and women of low condition, especially if they
are old and feeble, as well as prostrated with sickness, are not likely
to have much chance of being nursed in a country where human life is so
little valued.
CHAPTER XXI.
DOMESTIC LIFE.
SLEEPING ACCOMMODATION -- HOW SOLDIERS ON THE CAMPAIGN SLEEP --
THE KAFFIR’S BED -- IGNORANCE OF WEAVING -- PORTABLE FURNITURE --
A SINGULAR PROJECTILE -- THE KAFFIR’S PILLOW -- ITS MATERIAL AND
USUAL SHAPE -- A KAFFIR’S IDEAS OF ORNAMENT -- MODE OF REPOSING --
DINGAN AT HOME -- DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE -- KAFFIR MUSIC -- ENERGETIC
PERFORMANCE -- SOME NATIVE MELODIES -- QUALITY OF VOICE -- MUSICAL
INSTRUMENTS -- THE “HARP” AND MODE OF PLAYING IT -- PECULIAR TONES
OF THE HARP -- THE KAFFIR’S FLUTE -- EARTHENWARE AMONG THE KAFFIRS
-- WOMEN THE ONLY POTTERS -- HOW THE POTS ARE MADE -- GENERAL FORM
OF THE POTS AND THEIR USES -- EARTHEN GRAIN-STORES -- THRESHING OUT
GRAIN BEFORE STOWAGE -- THE TREES OF AFRICA -- THE THORNS AND THEIR
PROPERTIES -- THE GRAPPLE-PLANT -- THE WAIT-A-BIT, AND HOOK-AND-SPIKE
THORNS -- MONKEY-ROPES -- VARIOUS TIMBERS.
The sleeping accommodation of a Kaffir is of the simplest kind, and to
European minds forms about as uncomfortable a set of articles as can
be imagined. Indeed, with many of the young unmarried men, the only
permanent accommodation for sleeping is that which is furnished by
the floor of the hut, or the ground itself if they should be forced
to sleep in the open air. Soldiers on a campaign always sleep on the
ground, and as they are forced to leave all their clothes behind them,
they seek repose in the most primitive manner imaginable. It has
already been mentioned that, in order to secure celerity of movement,
a Kaffir soldier carries nothing but his weapon, and is not even
encumbered by dress. Hence he has a notable advantage over European
soldiers, who would soon perish by disease were they obliged to go
through a campaign without beds, tents, kit, or commissariat.
Our Highland soldiers are less dependent on accessory comforts than
most European regiments, and will contentedly wrap themselves in their
plaids, use their knapsacks as pillows, and betake themselves to sleep
in the open air. But they have at all events their plaid, while the
Kaffir warrior has nothing but his shield, which he may use as a bed if
he likes, and it is, perhaps, fortunate for him that long training in
hard marches renders him totally indifferent as to the spot on which
he is to lie. His chief care is that the place which he selects should
not be wet, or be in the close neighborhood of ants’ nests or snakes’
haunts, and his next care is to arrange his body and limbs so as to fit
the inequalities of the ground. As to the hardness of his extemporized
couch, he thinks little or nothing of it.
But when our Kaffir lad is admitted into the ranks of men, and takes
to himself his first wife, he indulges in the double luxury of a bed
and a pillow--the former being made of grass stems and the latter of
wood. This article of furniture is almost the same throughout Southern
Africa, and, among the true Kaffir tribes, the bed of the king himself
and that of his meanest subject are identical in material and shape. It
is made of the stems of grasses, some three feet in length, and about
as thick as crowquills. These are laid side by side, and are fastened
together by means of double strings which pass round the grass stems,
and are continually crossed backward and forward so as to form them
into a mat about three feet in width and six in length. This method of
tying the grass stems together is almost identical with that which is
employed by the native tribes that inhabit the banks of the Essequibo
River, in tying together the slender arrows which they project through
their blow-guns. The ends of the grass stems are all turned over and
firmly bound down with string, so as to form a kind of selvage, which
protects the mat from being unravelled.
On looking at one of these sleeping-mats, the observer is apt to fancy
that a vast amount of needless trouble has been taken with it--that
the maker would have done his work quicker and better, and that the
article itself would have looked much more elegant, had he woven the
materials instead of lashing them with string. But the Kaffir has not
the faintest idea of weaving, and even the primitive hand-loom, which
is so prevalent in different parts of the world, is not to be found in
Southern Africa.
The Kaffir can dress skins as well as any European furrier. He can
execute basket-work which no professional basket-maker can even
imitate, much less rival. He can make spear blades and axes which
are more suitable to his country than the best specimens of European
manufacture. But he has not the least notion of the very simple
operation of weaving threads into cloth. This ignorance of an almost
universal art is the more remarkable because he can weave leather
thongs and coarse hairs into elaborate ornaments, and can string beads
together so as to form flat belts or even aprons. Still, such is the
fact, and a very curious fact it is.
When the sleeper awakes in the morning, the bed is rolled into a
cylindrical form, lashed together with a hide thong, and suspended
out of the way in the hut. The student of Scripture will naturally be
reminded of the command issued to the paralytic man, to “take up his
bed and walk,” the bed in question being the ordinary thin mattress in
use in the East, which is spread flat on the ground when in use, and
is rolled up and put away as soon as the sleeper rises from his couch.
If a Kaffir moves from one residence to another, his wife carries his
bed with her, sometimes having her own couch balanced on the top of her
head, and her husband’s strapped to her shoulders. This latter mode of
carrying the bed may be seen in the illustration “Dolls,” on page 33,
where the woman is shown with the bed partly hidden under her kaross.
Should the Kaffir be a man of rather a luxurious disposition, he orders
his wife to pluck a quantity of grass or fresh leaves, and by strewing
them thickly on the ground and spreading the mat over them, he procures
a bed which even an ordinary European would not despise. Although the
bed is large enough to accommodate a full-sized man, it is wonderfully
light. My own specimen, which is a very fair example of a Kaffir bed,
weighs exactly two pounds and one ounce, so that the person who carries
it is incommoded not so much by its weight as by its bulk. The bulk is,
however, greatly diminished by the firmness with which it is rolled
up, so that it is made into a cylinder only three or four inches in
diameter. The reader may remember a story of a runaway bride, named
Uzinto, who rather astonished a Kaffir chief by pitching her bed
headlong through the door of the hut. By reference to the illustration
on page 209, it is easy to see how readily the bed could be thrown
through the narrow entrance, and how sharp a blow could be struck by it
if thrown with any force.
The pillow used by the Kaffir is even less comfortable than his bed,
inasmuch as it consists of nothing but a block of wood. The shape and
dimensions of these pillows are extremely variable. The specimens that
I have are fifteen inches in length and nearly six in height, and, as
they are cut out of solid blocks of the acacia tree, the weight is
considerable.
Upon the pillow the maker has bestowed great pains, and has carved the
eight legs in a very elaborate manner, cutting them into pyramidal
patterns, and charring the alternate sides of each little pyramid, so
as to produce the contrast of black and white which seems to be the
Kaffir’s ideal of beauty in wood-carving. It may here be noticed that
the Kaffir is not at all inventive in patterns, and that a curious
contrast exists between his architecture and his designs. The former,
it may be remarked, is all built upon curved lines, while in the
latter the lines are nearly straight. It is very seldom indeed that an
uncivilized Kaffir draws a pattern which is not based upon straight
lines, and even in those instances where he introduces circular
patterns the circles are small.
Comfortless as these pillows seem to us, they are well enough suited
to the Kaffir; even the married men, whose heads are closely shaven,
and who have not even the protection of their hair against the hardness
of the wood, are far better pleased with their pillow than they would
be with the softest cushion that could be manufactured out of down and
satin. Nor is this taste peculiar to the Kaffir, or even to the savage.
No Englishman who has been accustomed to a hard and simple mattress
would feel comfortable if obliged to sleep in a feather-bed; and many
travellers who have been long accustomed to sleep on the ground have
never been able to endure a bed afterward. I have known several such
travellers, one of whom not only extended his dislike of English
sleeping accommodations to the bed, but to the very pillow, for which
article he always substituted a block of oak, slightly rounded at the
top.
The illustration, “Dingan at home,” on page 209, represents the mode
in which a Kaffir reposes. The individual who is reclining is the
great Kaffir monarch, Dingan, and the reader will observe that his
bed is a mere mat, and that his pillow is only a block of wood. The
hut which is here represented is the celebrated one which he built at
his garrison town Ukunginglove, and it was specially noted because
it was supported by twenty pillars. The fireplace of this hut was
remarkable for its shape, which, instead of being the simple circle in
general use among the Kaffirs, resembled in form that ornament which
is known to architects by the name of quatrefoil. A few of his wives
are seen seated round the apartment, and, as Dingan was so great a
man, they were not permitted to stand upright, or even to use their
feet in any way, so that, if they wished to move from one part of the
hut to another, they were obliged to shuffle about on their knees.
The illustration is taken from a sketch by Captain Gardiner, who was
invited by Dingan to an interview in the house, and during which
interview he rather astonished his guest by retiring for a short time,
and then presenting himself with his face, limbs, and body entirely
covered with red and white spots, like those on toy horses.
The reader can form, from the contemplation of this drawing, a
tolerably accurate idea of the luxuries afforded by the wild, savage
life which some authors are so fond of praising.
As to music, the Kaffir has rather curious ideas on the subject. His
notion of melody is but very slight, while his timing is perfection
itself. The songs of the Kaffir tribes have already been mentioned,
and the very fact that several hundred men will sing the various war
songs as if they were animated with a single spirit shows that they
must all keep the most exact time. In this point they aid themselves by
the violent gestures in which they indulge. A Kaffir differs from an
European vocalist in this point, namely, that he always, if possible,
sits down when he sings. He and his companions will squat in a circle,
sometimes three or four rows deep, and will shout some well-known song
at the top of their voices, swaying their polished bodies backward and
forward as if they were one man, and aiding the time by thumping the
ground with their knob-kerries, and bringing their elbows violently
against their ribs so as to expel the notes from their lungs with
double emphasis.
[Music]
Some of the tunes which are sung by the Kaffirs at their dances are
here given, the music being taken from the Rev. J. Shooter’s work. The
reader will at once see how boldly the time is marked in them, and how
well they are adapted for their purpose. Neither are they entirely
destitute of tune, the last especially having a wild and quaint sort
of melody, which is calculated to take a strong hold of the ear, and
to haunt the memories of those who have heard it sung as only Kaffirs
can sing it. Among some of the Bosjesman tribes a sort of harmony--or
rather sustained discord--is employed, as will be seen in a succeeding
page, but the Zulus seem to excel in unison songs, the force of which
can be imagined by those who are familiar with the grand old hymns and
Gregorian tunes that have been suffered to lie so long in obscurity.
[Illustration: (1.) DINGAN AT HOME. (See page 207.)]
[Illustration: (2.) WOMEN QUARRELLING. (See page 213.)]
Of course, the quality of a Kaffir’s voice is not that which would
please an European vocalist. Like all uncultivated songsters, the
Kaffir delights in strong contrasts, now using a high falsetto, and now
dropping suddenly into a gruff bass. It is a very remarkable fact that
this method of managing the voice is tolerably universal throughout
the world, and that the accomplished vocalist of Kaffirland, of China,
of Japan, of Persia, and of Arabia, sings with exactly that falsetto
voice, that nasal twang, and that abrupt transition from the highest
to the lowest notes, which characterize our uneducated singers in
rural districts. Put a Wiltshire laborer and a Chinese gentleman into
different rooms, shut the doors so as to exclude the pronunciation of
the words, ask them to sing one of their ordinary songs, and the hearer
will scarcely be able to decide which room holds the English and which
the Chinese vocalist. In the specimens of music which have been given,
the reader will notice in several places the sudden rise or drop of a
whole octave, and also the curiously jerking effect of many passages,
both eminently characteristic of music as performed in country villages
where modern art has not modified the voice.
The musical instruments of the Kaffir are very few, and those of the
most simple kind. One is the whistle that is often diverted from its
normal duty as a mere whistle, to become a musical instrument, which,
although it has no range of notes, can at all events make itself heard
through any amount of vocal accompaniment. And, as a Kaffir thinks
that a song is no song unless it is to be sung with the whole power of
the lungs, so does he think that the whistle in question is a valuable
instrument in his limited orchestra.
There is, however, one musical instrument which is singularly soft
and low in its tones, and yet which is in great favor with the Kaffir
musicians. This is the instrument which is sometimes called a harp,
sometimes a guitar, and sometimes a fiddle, and which has an equal
right to either title, inasmuch as it has not the least resemblance to
either of those instruments. For the sake of brevity, we shall take the
first of these names, and call it a harp. At first sight, the spectator
would probably take it for an ordinary bow, to which a gourd had been
tied by way of ornament, and, indeed, I have known the instrument to be
thus described in a catalogue.
The instrument which is represented in the illustration entitled “Harp”
on page 155 is taken from a specimen which was brought from the Natal
district by the late H. Jackson, Esq., to whom I am indebted for so
many of the weapons and implements which appear in this work. The
bow is about five feet in length, and is made exactly as if it were
intended to be used for propelling arrows. The true Kaffir, however,
never uses the bow in warfare, or even in hunting, thinking it to be
a cowardly sort of weapon, unworthy of the hand of a warrior, and
looking upon it in much the same light as the knights of old looked
first on the cross-bows, and afterward on fire-arms, neither of which
weapons give fair play for a warrior’s skill and strength. The cord
is made of twisted hair, and is much longer than the bow, so that it
can be tightly or loosely strung according to the tone which the dusky
musician desires to produce. Near one end of the bow a round hollow
gourd is firmly lashed by means of a rather complicated arrangement of
leathern thongs. When the gourd is in its place, and the string is
tightened to its proper tension, the instrument is complete.
When the Kaffir musician desires to use it, he holds it with the gourd
upon his breast, and strikes the cord with a small stick, producing a
series of sounds which are certainly rather musical than otherwise,
but which are so faint as to be scarcely audible at the distance of
a few yards. Although the sound is so feeble, and the instrument is
intended for time rather than tone, the Kaffirs are very fond of it,
and will play on it by the hour together, their enthusiasm being quite
unintelligible to an European ear.
Generally the performer is content with the tones which he obtains
by stringing the bow to a certain note, but an expert player is not
content with such an arrangement. He attaches a short thong to the
string, and to the end of the thong he fastens a ring. The forefinger
of the left hand is passed through the ring, and the performer is able
as he plays to vary the tone by altering the tension of the string. The
object of the calabash is to give depth and resonance to the sound, and
it is remarkable that a similar contrivance is in use in many parts of
the world, hollow bamboo tubes, earthenware drums, and brass vessels
being used for the same purpose.
The reader may perhaps remember that in the middle ages, and indeed
in some districts up to a comparatively later time, a single-stringed
fiddle was used in the country. It was simply a bow, with a blown
bladder inserted between the string and the staff, and looked very
much like the Kaffir instrument with the gourd turned inside, so as to
allow the string to pass over it. Instead of being merely struck with
a small stick, it was played with a rude kind of bow; but, even in the
hands of the most skilful performer, its tones must have been anything
but melodious. The Kaffir harp is used both by men and women. There is
also a kind of rude flageolet, or flute, made of a reed, which is used
by the Kaffirs. This instrument is, however, more general among the
Bechuanas, and will be described in a future page.
* * * * *
In the course of the work, mention has been made of the earthenware
pots used by the Kaffirs. These vessels are of the rudest imaginable
description, and afford a curious contrast to the delicate and
elaborate basket-work which has been already mentioned. When a Kaffir
makes his baskets, whether he be employed upon a small milk-vessel
or a large store-house, he invents the most delicate and elaborate
patterns, and, out of the simplest possible materials, produces work
which no European basket-maker can surpass. But when vessels are to be
made with clay the inventive powers of the maker seem to cease, and
the pattern is as inferior as the material. Perhaps this inferiority
may be the result of the fact that basket-making belongs to the men,
who are accustomed to cut patterns of various kinds upon their spoons
and gourds, whereas the art of pottery, which implies really hard work,
such as digging and kneading clay, is handed over to the women, who are
accustomed to doing drudgery.
The Kaffir has no knowledge of machinery, and, just as he is ignorant
of the rudest form of a loom for weaving thread into fabrics, so is
he incapable of making the simplest kind of a wheel by which he may
aid the hand in the shaping of pottery. This is perhaps the more
remarkable, as the love of the circular form is so strong in the Kaffir
mind that we might naturally imagine him to invent a simple kind of
wheel like that which is employed by the peasants of India. But, as
may be conjectured from the only attempts at machinery which a Kaffir
makes, namely, a bellows whereby he saves his breath, and the extremely
rude mill whereby he saves his teeth, the construction of a revolving
wheel is far beyond him. In making their pots the women break to pieces
the nests of the white ant, and, after pounding the material to a fine
powder, mix it with water, and then knead it until it is of a proper
consistency. They then form the clay into rings, and build up the pots
by degrees, laying one ring regularly upon another until the requisite
shape is obtained. It is evident therefore, that the manufacture of a
tolerably large pot is a process which occupies a considerable time,
because it has to be built up very slowly, lest it should sink under
its own weight.
The only tool which is used in the manufacture of Kaffir pottery is
a piece of wood, with which the operator scrapes the clay rings as
she applies them, so as to give a tolerably smooth surface, and with
which she can apply little pieces of clay where there is a deficiency.
The shapes of these pots and pans are exceedingly clumsy, and their
ungainly look is increased by the frequency with which they become
lop-sided in consequence of imperfect drying. Examples of these
articles may be seen in several parts of this work. At the farther
end of the illustration No. 1, on page 63, may be seen several of the
larger pots, which are used for holding grain after it has been husked.
The operation of husking, by the way, is rather a peculiar one, and not
at all pleasant for the spectators who care for their eyes or faces.
The dry heads of maize are thrown in a heap upon the hard and polished
floor of the hut, and a number of Kaffirs sit in a circle round the
heap, each being furnished with the ever-useful knob-kerrie. One of
them strikes up a song, and the others join in full chorus, beating
time with their clubs upon the heads of maize. This is a very exciting
amusement for the performers, who shout the noisy chorus at the highest
pitch of their lungs, and beat time by striking their knob-kerries
upon the grain. With every blow of the heavy club, the maize grains
are struck from their husks, and fly about the hut in all directions,
threatening injury, if not absolute destruction, to the eyes of all who
are present in the hut. Yet the threshers appear to enjoy an immunity
which seems to be restricted to themselves and blacksmiths; and while
a stranger is anxiously shading his eyes from the shower of hard maize
grains, the threshers themselves do not give a thought to the safety of
their eyes, but sing at the top of their voice, pound away at the corn
cobs, and make the grains fly in all directions, as if the chorus of
the song were the chief object in life, and the preservation of their
eyesight were unworthy of a thought.
After the maize has been thus separated from the husk, a large portion
is hidden away in the subterranean granaries, which have already been
mentioned, while a considerable quantity is placed in their large
earthen jars for home consumption. In boiling meat, two pots are
employed, one being used as a cover inverted over the other, and the
two are luted tightly together so as to preserve the flavor of the
meat. Except for the three purposes of preserving grain, cooking food,
and boiling beer, the Kaffir seldom uses earthenware vessels, his light
baskets answering every purpose, and being very much more convenient
for handling.
From the preceding pages, the reader may form a tolerable idea of the
habits and customs of the tribes which inhabit this portion of the
world, and of whom one race has been selected as the typical example.
Of the many other tribes but slight notice will be taken, and only
the most salient points of their character will be mentioned. On the
whole it will be seen that the life of a South African savage is not so
repulsive as is often thought to be the case, and that, bating a few
particulars, a Kaffir lives a tolerably happy and peaceful life. He is
of course called upon to serve in the army for a certain time, but he
shares this liability with inhabitants of most civilized nations, and
when he returns after the campaign he is rewarded for good conduct by a
step in social rank, and the means wherein to maintain it.
Domestic life has, of course, its drawbacks among savages as among
civilized nations; and there are, perhaps, times when the gallant
soldier, who has been rewarded with a wife or two for his courage
in the field, wishes himself once more engaged on a war march. The
natural consequence of the low esteem in which the women are viewed,
and the state of slavery in which they are held, is that they are apt
to quarrel fiercely among themselves, and to vent upon each other any
feelings of irritation that they are forced to suppress before their
lords and masters.
Even among ourselves we see how this querulous spirit is developed
in proportion to want of cultivation, and how, in the most degraded
neighborhoods, a quarrel starts up between two women on the very
slightest grounds, and spreads in all directions like fire in tow.
So, in a Kaffir kraal, a couple of women get up a quarrel, and the
contagion immediately spreads around. Every woman within hearing must
needs take part in the quarrel, just like dogs when they hear their
companions fighting, and the scene in the kraal becomes, as may be
seen by the illustration No. 2, page 209, more lively than pleasant.
Even this drawback to domestic life is not without its remedy, which
generally takes the shape of a stick, so that the men, at least, pass
tolerably tranquil lives. Their chief characteristics are the absolute
power of their king, and their singular subservience to superstition;
but, as they have never been accustomed to consider their lives or
their property their own, they are quite happy under conditions which
would make an Englishman miserable.
* * * * *
Any account of Southern Africa would be imperfect without a short
description of one or two of the conspicuous trees, especially of the
thorns which render the “bush” so impervious to an European, but which
have no effect on the naked and well-oiled skin of a Kaffir. Frequently
the traveller will pursue his journey for many days together, and
will see scarcely a tree that does not possess thorns more or less
formidable. These thorns may be roughly divided into two groups,
namely, the straight and the hooked.
The straight thorns are produced by trees belonging to the great group
of Acacias, in which Southern Africa is peculiarly rich. They are
too numerous to be separately noticed, and it is only needful to say
that the two chief representatives of this formidable tree are the
Kameel-dorn (_Acacia giraffæ_) and the Karroo-dorn (_Acacia Capensis_).
The former tree has sharp brown thorns, very thick and strong, and
is remarkable for the fact that its pod does not open like that of
most trees of the same group. It is called by the Dutch colonists the
Kameel-dorn, because the giraffe, or kameel, grazes upon its delicate
leaves; but its native name is Mokáala, and by that title it is known
throughout the greater part of Southern Africa. The wood of the
Kameel-dorn varies in color, being pale-red toward the circumference
of the trunk, and deepening toward the centre into dark reddish-brown.
The very heart of the tree, which is extremely heavy, and of a very
dark color, is used in the manufacture of knob-kerries, and similar
articles, the chief of which are the handles of the feather-headed
sticks, which have already been mentioned in the chapter upon hunting.
The tree is found almost exclusively on rich sandy plains where is
little water.
The other species, which is known by the name of Karroo-dorn,
or White-thorn, is generally found on the banks of rivers or
water-courses, and is therefore a most valuable tree to the thirsty
traveller, who always looks out for the Karroo-thorn tree, knowing
that it is generally on the bank of some stream, or that by digging
at its foot he may find water. The leaves of this tree are extremely
plentiful; but they are of so small a size that the tree affords but
very little shade, and the effect of the sunbeams passing through a
thick clump of these trees is most singular. Several stems generally
rise from the same root, and it is a remarkable fact that the older
trees can easily be known by the dead branches, which snap across, and
then fall downward, so that their tips rest on the ground, while at
the point of fracture they are still attached to the tree. Insects,
especially the wood-devouring beetles, are supposed to be the cause of
this phenomenon, as the dead branches are always found to be perforated
with their burrows.
Every branch and twig of this tree is covered with the sharp white
thorns, which grow in pairs, and vary much in length, averaging
generally from two to four inches. They are sometimes even seven inches
in length; and deficiency in length is more than compensated by great
thickness, one of them in some cases measuring nearly two inches in
circumference. They are white in color, and are hollow, the thickness
of their walls scarcely exceeding that of a quill. They are, however,
exceedingly strong, and are most formidable impediments to any who
encounter them. There is a story of a lion, which I could not bring
myself to believe until I had seen these thorns, but which now seems
perfectly credible. The lion had sprung at his prey, but had slipped in
his spring, and fallen into a thorn-bush, where he lay impaled among
the sharp spikes, and so died from the effects of his many wounds. If
the bush had been composed of such thorns as those which have been
described, it would have been a much more wonderful thing for him to
have escaped than to have perished.
The danger, as well as annoyance, which is caused by these thorns may
be imagined from an accident which befell one of Le Vaillant’s oxen.
The animal happened to be driven against an acacia, and some of the
thorns penetrated its breast, of course breaking into the wound. All
those which could be seen were extracted with pincers; but several of
them had broken beneath the skin, and could not be touched. These
caused so violent an inflammation that, after waiting for twenty-four
hours in hopes of saving its life, it was found necessary to put it to
death.
This thorn is very useful for various reasons. In the first place,
its bark is employed in the manufacture of the strings with which the
natives weave their mats together, and which they often use in tying
together the flexible sticks which form the framework of their huts.
From the thorns of the tree the young maidens form various ornaments,
and with these thorns they decorate their heads, if they should not
be fortunate enough to procure the quills of the porcupine for that
purpose. Moreover, the dried wood makes an excellent fire, burning
easily and rapidly, and throwing out a brisk and glowing, though rather
transient heat.
Several of the acacias are useful as food-providers, the gum which
exudes from them being eaten as a regular article of diet. The reader
may remember that the poor Damara woman, who was left to die in the
wilderness, was supplied with gum as an article of food. Several of
the trees supply the gum in very large quantities. Mr. Burchell, the
well-known traveller, thinks that the gum which exudes from these
trees is so clear and good that it might largely take the place of the
gum-arabic of commerce, and form as regular article of merchandise
as the ivory, hides, and feathers, which form the staple of South
African trade. “On the branches of these acacias, which have so great
a resemblance to the true acacia of the ancients, or the tree which
yields the gum-arabic, as to have been once considered the same
species, I frequently saw large lumps of very good and clear gum.
“Wherever they had been wounded by the hatchets of the natives, there
most commonly the gum exuded; and by some similar operations it is
probable that the trees might, without destroying them, be made to
produce annually a large crop. And if a computation could be made of
the quantity that might be obtained from those trees only which line
the banks of the Gariep and its branches, amounting to a line of wood
(reckoning both sides) of more than two thousand miles, one would feel
inclined to suppose that it might be worth while to teach and encourage
the natives to collect it. This they certainly would be ready to do, if
they heard that tobacco could always be obtained in exchange.
“But if to the acacias of the river are added the myriads which crowd
almost every river in extra-tropical Southern Africa, or even between
the Cape and the Gariep only, we may feel satisfied that there are
trees enough to supply a quantity of this drug more than equal to
the whole consumption of Great Britain. Of the productiveness of the
_Acacia Capensis_ as compared with that of the _Acacia vera_, I have
no information that enables me to give an opinion; but with respect to
the quality, I think we may venture to pronounce it to be in no way
inferior.”
These are fair representatives of the straight-thorned plant of
Southern Africa. The best example of the hook-thorned vegetation is
that which is described by Burchell as the Grapple-plant; but it is
better known by the expressive name of Hook-thorn. The scientific title
of this plant is _Uncaria procumbens_, the former name being given to
it on account of the hooks with which it is armed, and the latter to
the mode in which it grows along the ground.
When in blossom, this is a singularly beautiful plant, the large
flowers being of a rich purple hue, and producing a most lovely effect
as they spread themselves over the ground, or hang in masses from the
trees and shrubs. The long, trailing branches are furnished throughout
their length with sharp barbed thorns, set in pairs. Unpleasant as
are the branches, they become worse when the purple petals fall and
the seed-vessels are developed. Then the experienced traveller dreads
its presence, and, if he can do so, keeps clear of the ground which
is tenanted by such a foe. The large seed-vessels are covered with a
multitude of sharp and very strong hooked thorns. When the seed is
ripe, the vessel splits along the middle, and the two sides separate
widely from each other, so that they form an array of hooks which
reminds the observer of the complicated devices used by anglers in
pike-fishing. The illustration No. 1, on page 247, represents a still
closed seed-vessel, and, formidable as it looks, its powers are more
than doubled when it is open and dry, each half being covered with
thorns pointing in opposite directions. The thorns are as sharp as
needles, and nearly as strong as if they were made of the same material.
The reader may easily imagine the horrors of a bush which is beset
with such weapons. No one who wears clothes has a chance of escape
from them. If only one hooked thorn catches but his coat-sleeve, he
is a prisoner at once. The first movement bends the long, slender
branches, and hook after hook fixes its point upon him. Struggling
only trebles the number of his thorned enemies, and the only mode by
which he can free himself is to “wait-a-bit,” cut off the clinging
seed-vessels, and, when he is clear of the bush, remove them one by
one. This terrible plant was most fatal to the English soldiers in the
last Kaffir wars, the unwieldy accoutrements and loose clothing of the
soldier being seized by the thorns, and holding the unfortunate man
fast, while the naked Kaffir could glide among the thorns unharmed, and
deliver his assagai with impunity. If the reader would like to form
an idea of the power of these thorns, he can do so by thrusting his
arm into the middle of a thick rose-bush, and mentally multiplying the
number of thorns by a hundred, and their size by fifty. In shape the
thorns have a singular resemblance to the fore-claws of the lion, and
they certainly, though inanimate, are scarcely less efficacious.
There is one of the acacia tribe (_Acacia detinens_) which is nearly as
bad in its way as the grapple-plant. In Burchell’s “Travels” there is a
very good account of this shrub, which is known to the colonists by the
title of _Vacht-een-bidgt_, or Wait-a-bit thorn. “The largest shrubs
were about five feet high--a plant quite unknown to me, but well known
to the Klaarwater people... and is the same thorny bush which gave us
so much annoyance the night before, where it was above seven feet high.
“I was preparing to cut some specimens of it, which the Hottentots
observing, warned me to be very careful in doing so, otherwise I should
be certainly caught fast in its branches. In consequence of this
advice. I proceeded with the utmost caution; but, with all my care,
a small twig got hold of one sleeve. While thinking to disengage it
quietly with the other hand, both arms were seized by these rapacious
thorns; and the more I tried to extricate myself, the more entangled I
became; till at last it seized my hat also, and convinced me that there
was no possibility for me to free myself but by main force, and at the
expense of tearing all my clothes. I therefore called out for help, and
two of my men came and released me by cutting off the branches by which
I was held. In revenge for the ill-treatment, I determined to give to
the tree a name which should serve to caution future travellers against
allowing themselves to venture within its clutches.” The monitory name
to which allusion has been made is that of _detinens_ as applied to
that particular species of acacia.
Besides these plants, there is one which deserves a brief mention,
on account of its remarkable conformation. This is the Three-thorn,
a species of _Rhigozum_, which is very common in parts of Southern
Africa. It is a low shrub, somewhere about three or four feet in
height, and its branches divide very regularly into threes, giving it
a quaint and altogether singular aspect. There is another remarkable
species, called the Haak-en-steek, or the Hook-and-prick thorn. In this
species the thorns are very curiously arranged. First comes a short,
hooked thorn; and if the traveller contrives to be caught by this hook,
and tries to pull himself away, he forces down upon himself a pair of
long, straight thorns, two inches in length, and as sharp as needles.
It will be seen that the variety of thorns which beset the traveller
is very great indeed. Dr. Kirk ingeniously divides them into three
classes, namely, those which tear the flesh, those which tear the
clothes, and those which tear both--this last class being by far the
largest.
The reader may remember that the “Stink-wood” has occasionally been
mentioned. This same tree with the unsavory name seems to have
been rather neglected, if we may believe the account written by Le
Vaillant nearly a century ago. He remarks of this tree, that it grows
plentifully in several parts of Southern Africa, and is found near
Algoa Bay, whence it is transported to the Cape, and there used in the
manufacture of furniture. The tree is a very slow-growing one, and,
like such trees, produces wood of a very hard texture. When freshly cut
it is pale, but after the lapse of time it gradually darkens into a
rich chestnut varied with black. Like the hard woods, it is susceptible
of a very high polish, and possesses besides the invaluable property of
being free from worms, which seem to perceive even in the dried wood
the unpleasant odor which distinguishes it when green. In general look
and mode of growth this tree much resembles the oak of our own country.
When a traveller first enters a South African forest, he is rather
surprised by two circumstances; the first being that the trees do not
surpass in size those which grace an ordinary English copse, and that
in many cases they are far inferior both in size and beauty. The next
point that strikes his attention is, the vast number of creepers which
spread their slender branches from tree to tree, and which, in some
instances, envelope the supporting tree so completely that they wholly
hide it from view. They have the faculty of running up the trunks of
trees, pushing their branches to the very extremity of the boughs, and
then letting drop their slender filaments, that are caught by lower
boughs and hang in festoons from them. At first the filaments are
scarcely stronger than packthread, but by degrees they become thicker
and thicker, until they are as large as a man’s arm. These creepers
multiply in such profusion that they become in many places the chief
features of the scenery, all the trees being bound together by the
festoons of creepers which hang from branch to branch.
The Dutch settlers call them by the name of Bavians-tow, or
Baboon-ropes, because the baboons and monkeys clamber by means of
them to the extremities of the branches where the fruit grows. The
scientific name for the plant is _Cynanchum obtusifolium_. The natives,
ever watchful for their own interests, make great use of these
creepers, and the Kaffirs use them largely in lashing together the
various portions of their huts. The fruit of the Bavians-tow is only
found at the extremity of the branches, where the young filaments
shoot out. When ripe it is something like a cherry, and is of a bright
crimson color. It goes by the popular name of “wild grape,” and is much
liked by monkeys, birds, and men. From the fruit a kind of spirit is
distilled, and a very good preserve can be made from it.
These baboon-ropes are not the only parasitic growths upon trees. In
many parts of the country there is a kind of long, fibrous moss which
grows upon the trees, and is often in such profusion that it completely
covers them, hiding not only the trunk and branches, but even the twigs
and leafage. This mossy growth extends to a considerable length, in
some cases attaining as much as ten or twelve feet. It is yellow in
color, and when short is very soft and fine, so that it can be used
for most of the purposes to which cotton or tow are applied. But, when
it reaches the length of six or seven feet, it becomes hard and wiry,
and is comparatively useless. I have now before me a quantity of this
tow-like lichen, which had been used in packing a large box full of
Kaffir weapons and implements. There is a tree which furnishes a very
useful timber, called from its color, “Geele-hout,” a yellow wood.
This tree is a species of _Taxus_, but there are at least two species
which produce the wood. The timber is much used for beams, planks, and
building purposes generally.
Many travellers have thought that these and several other trees
would form valuable articles of merchandise, and that they might
be profitably imported to Europe. That they afford really valuable
woods, and that some of them would be extremely useful in delicate and
fancy work, is indisputable. The only difficulty is, that to cut and
transport them at present involves so much expense that the arrangement
would hardly be sufficiently profitable for the investment of so much
capital.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE HOTTENTOT RACES.
THE CONTRASTED RACES -- MUTUAL REPULSION BETWEEN THE KAFFIR AND THE
HOTTENTOT -- NATIVE ALLIES -- APPEARANCE OF THE HOTTENTOT RACE; THEIR
COMPLEXION AND FEATURES -- RESEMBLANCE TO THE CHINESE -- THE SUN AND
ITS SUPPOSED EFFECT ON COLOR -- THE HOTTENTOT IN YOUTH AND AGE --
RAPID DETERIORATION OF FORM -- SINGULAR FORMATION OF HOTTENTOT WOMEN
-- PORTRAIT-TAKING WITH A SEXTANT -- GROWTH OF THE HAIR -- GENERAL
CHARACTER OF THE HOTTENTOTS -- DRESS OF THE MEN -- WOMEN’S DRESS AND
ORNAMENTS -- OSTRICH EGG SHELLS USED AS AN ORNAMENT -- A CURIOUS
FRONTLET -- GREASE, SIBILO, AND BUCHU -- NATURE OF THE SIBILO, AND
THE MODE IN WHICH IT IS PROCURED -- USE OF THE BUCHU -- MODE OF
PREPARING SKINS -- THE TANNING-VAT -- ROPE-MAKING -- BOWLS AND JARS
-- HIDE ROPES AND THEIR MANUFACTURE -- THE HOTTENTOT SPOON -- A
NATIVE FLY-TRAP -- MAT-MAKING -- HOTTENTOT ARCHITECTURE -- SIMPLE
MODE OF AVOIDING VERMIN -- NOMAD HABITS OF THE HOTTENTOTS -- THE
DIGGING-STICK.
Before proceeding with the general view of the remaining tribes which
inhabit Africa, it will be necessary to give a few pages to the
remarkable race which has lived for so long in close contact with
the Kaffir tribes, and which presents the curious phenomenon of a
pale race living in the same land with a black race, and yet having
preserved its individuality. About three centuries ago, the whole of
Southern Africa was inhabited by various tribes belonging to a large
and powerful nation. This nation, now known collectively under the
name of Hottentot, was at that time the owner and master of the land,
of which it had held possession for a considerable period. Whether or
not the Hottentots were the aboriginal inhabitants of Southern Africa,
is rather doubtful; but the probability is, that they came from a
distant source, and that they dispossessed the aborigines, exactly as
they themselves were afterward ejected by the Kaffirs, and the Kaffirs
supplanted by the Europeans.
The Hottentots have a deadly and almost instinctive hatred of the
Kaffir race. The origin of this feeling is evidently attributable
to the successive defeats which they suffered at the hands of the
Kaffirs, and caused them to be merely tolerated inhabitants of a land
in which they were formerly the masters. The parents have handed down
this antipathy to their children, and, as is often the case, it seems
to have grown stronger in each generation, so that the semi-civilized
Hottentot of the present day, though speaking the European language,
and wearing European clothing, hates the Kaffirs as cordially as
did his wild ancestors, and cannot even mention their name without
prefixing some opprobrious epithet.
In consequence of this feeling, the Hottentot is an invaluable
cow-herd, in a land where Kaffirs are professional cow-stealers. He
seems to detect the presence of a Kaffir almost by intuition, and even
on a dark night, when the dusky body of the robber can hardly be seen,
he will discover the thief, work his stealthy way toward him, and kill
him noiselessly with a single blow. In the late South African war,
the Hottentots became most useful allies. They were docile, easily
disciplined, and were simply invaluable in bush-fighting, where the
English soldier, with all his apparatus of belts and accoutrements, was
utterly useless.
It is rather a remarkable fact that, in every country into which the
English have carried their arms, the natives have become the best
allies against their own countrymen, and have rendered services without
which the English could scarcely have kept their footing. No one can
track up and capture the Australian native rebel so effectually as a
native policeman. The native African assists them against those who at
all events inhabit the same land, though they may not happen to belong
to the same race. The natives of China gave them great assistance in
the late Chinese war, and the services which were rendered them by
native forces during the great Indian mutiny can hardly be overrated.
However much the Hottentot may dislike the Kaffir, the feeling of
antagonism is reciprocal, and the vindictive hatred borne by the
defeated race toward their conquerors is scarcely less intense than the
contemptuous repugnance felt by the victors toward the vanquished.
Neither in color nor general aspect do the Hottentots resemble the
dark races around them. Their complexion is sallow, and much like that
of a very dark person suffering from jaundice. Indeed, the complexion
of the Hottentots much resembles that of the Chinese, and the general
similitude between the two nations is very remarkable. (See page 224.)
One of my friends who lived long in South Africa had a driver who
dressed like a Hottentot, and who, to all appearance, was a Hottentot.
One day, however, he astonished his master by declaring himself a
Chinese, and proving the assertion by removing his hat and showing
the long pig-tail twisted round his head. He was, in fact, a Chinese
Coolie, who had been imported into Southern Africa, and who, after
the fashion of his people, had accommodated himself to the manners
and customs of those among whom he lived. Mr. Moffatt, the missionary
author, mentions that he saw two Chinese children, whom he would have
taken for Hottentots had he not been informed of their true character.
The existence of this light-colored race in such a locality affords a
good proof that complexion is not entirely caused by the sun. There is
a very popular idea that the hot sun of tropical countries produces the
black color of the negro and other races, and that a low temperature
bleaches the skin. Yet we have the Hottentots and their kindred tribes
exhibiting pale skins in a country close to the tropics, while the
Esquimaux, who live amid eternal ice, are often so dark that they might
almost be mistaken for negroes, but for the conformation of their faces
and the length of their hair.
The shape of the Hottentot face is very peculiar, as may be seen by
reference to any engravings which illustrate scenes in Hottentot life.
The cheek-bones project sharply from the face, and the long chin is
narrow and pointed. These characteristics are not so visible in youth,
but seem to grow stronger with age. Indeed, an old Hottentot, whether
man or woman, seems to have scarcely any real face, but to be furnished
with a mere skin drawn tightly over the skull.
What were the manners and customs of the Hottentots before they were
dispossessed by the Kaffirs, or deteriorated by contact with bad
specimens of European civilization, is extremely difficult to say, as
no trustworthy historian of their domestic economy has lived among
them. Kolben, whose book of travels has long been accepted as giving a
true account of the Hottentot, is now known to be utterly unworthy of
belief, insomuch as his information is second-hand, and those from whom
he obtained it have evidently amused themselves by imposing upon his
credulity.
As this work treats only of the normal habits and customs of
the various parts of the world, and has nothing to do with the
modifications of civilization, the account of the Hottentot will be
necessarily brief.
In shape the Hottentots alter strangely according to their age. When
children, they are not at all agreeable objects--at least, to an
unaccustomed eye, being thin in the limbs, with an oddly projecting
stomach, and a corresponding fall in the back. If tolerably well fed,
they lose this strange shape when they approach the period of youth,
and as young men and girls are almost models of perfection in form,
though their faces are not entitled to as much praise. But they do
not retain this beauty of form for any long period, some few years
generally comprehending its beginning and its end. “In five or six
years after their arrival at womanhood”, writes Burchell, “the fresh
plumpness of youth has already given way to the wrinkles of age; and,
unless we viewed them with the eye of commiseration and philanthropy,
we should be inclined to pronounce them the most disgusting of human
beings.” Their early, and, it may be said, premature symptoms of age,
may perhaps, with much probability, be ascribed to a hard life, an
uncertain and irregular supply of food, exposure to every inclemency of
weather, and a want of cleanliness, which increases with years. These,
rather than the nature of the climate, are the causes of this quick
fading and decay of the bloom and grace of youth.
The appearance of an ordinary Hottentot woman can be seen by reference
to the illustration No. 2, opposite, taken from a sketch by the author
whose words have just been quoted. The subject of the drawing looks
as if she were sixty years old at the very least, though, on account
of the early deterioration of form, she might be of any age from
twenty-seven upward. It is hardly possible to conceive that so short
a period would change the graceful form of the Hottentot girl, as
shown on the same page, into the withered and wrinkled hag who is here
depicted, but such is really the case, and the strangest part is, that
it is scarcely possible to tell whether a woman is thirty or sixty
years of age by her looks alone.
[Illustration: (1.) HOTTENTOT GIRL. (See page 222.)]
[Illustration: (2.) HOTTENTOT WOMAN. (See page 218.)]
Not the least remarkable point in the Hottentot women is the singular
modification of form to which they are often, though not universally,
subject--a development of which the celebrated “Hottentot Venus”
afforded an excellent example. A very amusing description of one of
these women is given by Mr. Galton, in his well-known work on Southern
Africa:--
“Mr. Hahn’s household was large. There was an interpreter and
a sub-interpreter, and again others, but all most excellently
well-behaved, and showing to great advantage the influence of their
master. These servants were chiefly Hottentots, who had migrated
with Mr. Hahn from Hottentotland, and, like him, had picked up the
language of the Damaras. The sub-interpreter was married to a charming
person, not only a Hottentot in figure, but in that respect a Venus
among Hottentots. I was perfectly aghast at her development, and
made inquiries upon that delicate point as far as I dared among my
missionary friends. The result is, that I believe Mrs. Petrus to be
the lady who ranks second among all the Hottentots for the beautiful
outline that her back affords, Jonker’s wife ranking as the first; the
latter, however, was slightly _passée_, while Mrs. Petrus was in full
_embonpoint_.
“I profess to be a scientific man, and was exceedingly anxious to
obtain accurate measurement of her shape; but there was a difficulty
in doing this. I did not know a word of Hottentot, and could never,
therefore, explain to the lady what the object of my foot-rule could
be; and I really dared not ask my worthy missionary host to interpret
for me. I therefore felt in a dilemma as I gazed at her form, that gift
of bounteous nature to this favored race, which no mantua-maker, with
all her crinoline and stuffing, can do otherwise than humbly imitate.
The object of my admiration stood under a tree, and was turning herself
about to all points of the compass, as ladies who wish to be admired
usually do. Of a sudden my eye fell upon my sextant; the bright thought
struck me, and I took a series of observations upon her figure in
every direction, up and down, crossways, diagonally, and so forth, and
I registered them carefully upon an outline drawing for fear of any
mistake. This being done, I boldly pulled out my measuring tape, and
measured the distance from where I was to the place where she stood,
and, having thus obtained both base and angles, I worked out the result
by trigonometry and logarithms.”
This remarkable protuberance, which shakes like jelly at every movement
of the body, is not soft as might be imagined, but firm and hard. Mr.
Christie, who is rather above the middle size, tells us that he has
sometimes stood upon it without being supported by any other part
of the person. The scientific name for this curious development is
Steatopyga. It does not cause the least inconvenience, and the women
find it rather convenient as affording a support whenever they wish to
carry an infant.
Another peculiarity in this curious race is the manner in which the
hair grows on the head. Like that of the negroes it is short, crisp,
and woolly, but it possesses the peculiarity of not covering the entire
head, but growing in little patches, each about as large as a pea.
These patches are quite distinct, and in many instances are scattered
so sparingly over the head, that the skin can be plainly seen between
them. Perhaps this odd growth of the hair affords a reason for the
universal custom of wearing a cap, and of covering the head thickly
with grease and mineral powder. The original manners and customs of the
Hottentots have entirely vanished, and, unlike the fiercer and nobler
Kaffir tribes, they have merged their own individuality in that of the
white settlers. They always dress in European apparel, but it has been
noticed by those who have lived in the country, that the Hottentot,
though fully clothed, is far less modest in appearance than the Kaffir,
who wears scarcely any clothing at all. In this point seems to be one
of the great distinctions between the Hottentot and other races. It
is quite true that Le Vaillant and travellers antecedent to him have
written of the Hottentots in the most glowing terms, attributing to
them almost every virtue that uncivilized man is likely to possess, and
praising them for the absence of many vices that disgrace civilized
humanity.
Now, the fact is, that Le Vaillant was evidently a man of exceptional
abilities in the management of inferiors, and that he possessed an
intuitive knowledge of character that is very seldom to be found.
Consequently the men who were submissive, docile, and affectionate
under his firm, yet determined sway, might have been captious, idle,
and insubordinate under a less judicious leader. They looked upon
him as a being infinitely superior to themselves, untouched by the
impulsive and unreasoning motives by which these children of nature
are led, and in consequence yielded to the subtle and all-powerful
influence which a higher nature exercises over a lower.
The Hottentots with whom our author came in contact were free from the
many vices which degrade the Hottentot of the present day, but it is
clear that they were innocent simply because they were ignorant. Those
of the present time have lost all their ancient simplicity, and have
contrived to imbue themselves with the vices in which the advent of the
white men enabled them to indulge, without at the same time improving
their intellectual or social condition.
We will now endeavor to see the Hottentot as he used to be before he
was conquered by the Kaffirs, and reduced to servitude by the European
colonists.
The general appearance of the Hottentot may be seen by reference to
the illustration No. 2, opposite, which represents a young man named
Klaas, who was the favorite attendant of Le Vaillant, and of whom the
traveller speaks in the highest terms. He has, therefore, been selected
as a favorable specimen of his nation. The reader will understand that
in the following account of the Hottentot tribes, they are described as
they used to be, and not as they are at the present day.
The ordinary dress of a Hottentot man can be tolerably imagined from
the portrait of Klaas. Over his shoulder is thrown a large mantle,
or kaross, made of cow-hide tanned and softened, and worn with the
fur inward. This mantle is most in fashion, and when engaged in
his ordinary occupations the Hottentot throws it off, so as to be
unencumbered. Around his waist are a number of leathern thongs, mingled
with strings of beads and other ornaments, and to one of these thongs
are fastened two aprons, one in front and the other behind. That one
in front is called the “jackal,” because it is generally made of a
piece of jackal skin or similar fur. The second apron, if it may be so
named, is not universally worn, though a Hottentot of taste does not
consider himself dressed without it. It is simply a triangular flap of
leather, barely a foot in length, two inches in width at the top, where
it joins the girdle, and widening to four inches at the bottom. This
curious appendage is ornamented with bits of metal, steel, beads, and
other decorations, and the owner seems to take a great pride in this
odd article of dress. Of course it is not of the least use, and may be
compared to the tails of a modern dress-coat, or the bag attached to
the collar of a court suit.
Some families among the Hottentots vary the shape of the
“staart-rheim,” as the Dutch colonists call it, and make it of
different forms. Some have it square, and others circular or oblong,
while some, who are possessed of more than ordinary ingenuity, make it
into the form of a crescent or a cross. This article of dress still
survives among some of the African tribes, as will be seen on a future
page.
Round the ankles are fastened thongs of hide. These articles gave rise
to the absurd statement that Hottentots wore the intestines of animals
until they became softened by putridity, and then ate them, carefully
keeping up the supply by adding fresh thongs in the place of those
which were eaten. The real fact is, that these leathern bands act as a
defence against the thorns among which the Hottentots have to walk, and
for that purpose they are used by both sexes. It is true that, in some
cases, the wearers have been reduced to such a state of starvation
that they have been obliged to eat the hide circlets from their limbs,
and eat them with the aid of what rude cooking could be extemporized.
But it will be remarked that the Kaffir soldiers have been reduced to
eat their shields and the leathern thongs which bound the assagai-heads
to the shaft, and no one would therefrom infer that the Kaffirs made
their shields an ordinary article of diet.
The feet are protected from sharp stones and thorns by a simple kind of
shoe, or sandal, which is little more than a piece of stout leather,
larger than the sole of the foot, and tied on by thongs. The feet
of the card-players, on page 237, show this sandal. It is not worn,
however, when the Hottentot is engaged in his ordinary vocations, and
is only employed when he is on a journey, and the ground which he has
to traverse is exceptionally rough and thorny. These sandals are in use
throughout a large portion of Southern Africa, and the best are made by
the Bachapins, a sub-tribe of the Bechuanas.
The dress of the women is essentially the same as that of the men,
although it is more complicated, and there is more of it. As is the
case with the Kaffir, the children of both sexes wear no clothing at
all until they are eight or nine years old, and then the girls assume
the little leathern apron called the “makkâbi.” This portion of dress
is somewhat similar to that which is worn by the Kaffir girls, and is
simply a flat piece of leather cut into thin strips. The thongs are
generally longer than those worn by the Kaffir, and sometimes reach
nearly to the knee. Over this is sometimes, but not universally, worn
a second apron of skin, ornamented with beads, bits of shining metal,
and similar decorations. The beads are arranged in patterns, an idea
of which can be gained from the illustration No. 1, page 219, which
represents a Gonaqua Hottentot girl, about sixteen years of age. This
girl was a special favorite of Le Vaillant’s, and certainly seems
from his account to have been a singularly favorable instance of
unsophisticated human nature. The attitude in which she is depicted is
a very characteristic one, being that which the Hottentot girls are in
the habit of assuming. It is remarkable, by the way, that the pleasing
liveliness for which the Hottentot youth are notable departs together
with youth, the demeanor of the men and women being sedate and almost
gloomy.
Around the loins is fastened a much larger apron without any
decoration. This is of variable size and shape, but the usual form is
that which is shown in the illustration. Its name is “musesi,” and,
like the “staart-rheim” of the men, is not thought to be a necessary
article of clothing, being put on more for ceremony than for use. This
apron is also variable in size, sometimes being so long as nearly to
touch the ground, and sometimes barely reaching to the knee. The Dutch
settlers called these aprons the “fore-kaross,” and “hind-kaross,”
words which sufficiently explain themselves.
[Illustration: (1.) HOTTENTOT YOUNG MAN. (See page 218.)]
[Illustration: (2.) HOTTENTOT IN FULL DRESS. (See page 222.)]
The leather thongs which encircle the leg are mostly ornamented with
wire twisted round them, and sometimes a woman will wear on her legs
one or two rings entirely composed of wire. Sometimes there are so
many of these rings that the leg is covered with them as high as the
knee, while in a few instances four or five rings are even worn above
the knee, and must be extremely inconvenient to the wearer. Beads of
various colors are also worn profusely, sometimes strung together on
wire, and hung round the neck, waist, wrists, and ankles, and sometimes
sewed upon different articles of apparel.
Before beads were introduced from Europe, the natives had a very
ingenious method of making ornaments, and, even after the introduction
of beads, the native ornament was much prized. It was made by
laboriously cutting ostrich shells into thin circular disks, varying in
size from the sixth of an inch to nearly half an inch in diameter, and
pierced through the middle. Many hundreds of these disks are closely
strung together, so as to form a sort of circular rope, white as if
made of ivory. Sometimes this rope is long enough to pass several times
round the body, against which the shining white disks produced a very
good effect.
Burchell mentions a curious kind of ornament which was worn by a
young Hottentot girl, and which seemed to be greatly prized by her.
It consisted of three pieces of ivory about the size and shape of
sparrow’s eggs, each tied to the end of a thong, and so arranged that
one of them hung over the nose and another on each cheek. As she moved
her head in conversation these ivory beads swung about from side to
side, and in her estimation produced a very telling effect. I have in
my collection a good specimen of a similar frontlet. It consists of a
leathern thong three feet in length, at each end of which is a cowrie
shell. One foot in length of its centre is composed of a double row
of the ostrich egg-rope which has just been described, so that, when
the frontlet is tied on the head, the white egg-shell ropes cross the
forehead. From the exact centre fall six short thongs, at the end of
each of which is an ornament of pearly-shell or tortoise-shell. Four of
these thongs are covered with native beads, made from the bone of the
ostrich, and are further ornamented with a large scarlet seed in the
middle. At each end of the egg-shell rope are two shell-clad thongs,
exactly like those which have been described, and, when the frontlet is
in its place, these ornaments hang upon each cheek. The illustration
No. 5 upon page 247 shows the frontlet as it appears when bound upon
the head of a Hottentot belle.
The dress of the married woman is, of course, more elaborate than that
of the young girl. Although they sometimes appear with a very slight
costume, they usually prefer to be tolerably well clad. With married
women both the aprons are larger than with the girls, and they wear
besides a shorter apron over the breast. Their kaross, too, is of
comparatively large size. The Hottentot females always wear a cap of
some kind, the usual material being leather, which is dressed in the
same manner as the skin of which the kaross and the aprons are made.
The hair is plentifully imbued with grease, in which has been
mixed a quantity of the metallic powder of which the Hottentots
are immoderately fond, and which is called by the Dutch colonists
“Black-klip,” or Shining Rock, on account of its glittering appearance.
The natives call it by the name of _Sibilo_. which is pronounced as
if it were written Sibeelo. The sibilo is extremely local, being
only known to exist in one part of Africa, and is dug from a rock
called Sensavan. It seems to be a very friable kind of iron ore,
plentifully interspersed with minute particles of mica, the union
of these two substances giving it the appearance which is so much
admired by the natives. This substance is a “shining, powdery iron
ore, of a steel-gray or bluish lustre, soft and greasy to the touch,
its particles adhering to the hands or clothes, and staining them of
a dark-red or ferruginous lustre. The skin is not easily freed from
these glossy particles, even by repeated washings, and whenever this
substance is used everything becomes contaminated, and its glittering
nature betrays it on every article which the wearer handles.” Burchell
goes on to say that oxidization gives to the iron ore that peculiar
rust-red of which the Hottentots are so fond, while the micaceous
particles impart to it that sparkling glitter which is scarcely less
prized.
To the Sensavan rock come all the surrounding tribes for a supply of
this precious substance, and those who are nearest are in the habit of
digging it, and using it as a means of barter with more distant tribes.
By degrees the rock has been quarried so deeply that a series of
caverns have been worked into it, some penetrating for a considerable
distance. Burchell relates an anecdote of a party of Hottentots who
were engaged in digging the sibilo, and who were overwhelmed by the
fall of the cavern in which they were working. The various caverns are
never without inhabitants, for by day they are full of bats, and by
night they form the resting-place of pigeons.
Besides the sibilo, another substance called Buchu is in universal use
among the Hottentots. This is also a powder, but it is of vegetable,
and not of mineral origin. It is not nearly as valuable as the sibilo,
although considered to be nearly as necessary an article of adornment,
so that any one who is not bedaubed with sibilo, and perfumed with
buchu, is considered unworthy of entrance into polite society. Sibilo,
as the reader may remember, is to be obtained only from one spot, and
is therefore a peculiarly valuable material, whereas the buchu can be
obtained from several sources, and is accordingly held in lower esteem.
Buchu (pronounced _Bookoo_) is mostly obtained from a species of
Diosma, and is made by reducing the plant to a powder. It possesses
a strong odor, which to the nostrils of a Hottentot is extremely
agreeable, but which has exactly the opposite effect upon the more
sensitive organs of an European. When a number of Hottentots are
assembled in one of their rude huts, the odor of the buchu, with which
the karosses as well as the hair of the natives are plentifully imbued,
is so exceedingly powerful, that no one except a native can breathe
in such an atmosphere. The Hottentots have a wonderful veneration for
this plant, and use it for various purposes. It is thought to form an
admirable application to a wound, and for this purpose the leaves of
the plant are infused in strong vinegar, and are generally steeped for
so long a time that they form a kind of mucilage.
There are several species of plants from which the indispensable
buchu is made, and one of them is a kind of fragrant croton, named by
Burchell _Croton gratissimum_, from its pleasant aromatic odor. It is a
handsome bushy shrub, from four to seven feet in height. Both flowers
and leaves possess an agreeable scent, and the buchu is made by drying
and pounding the latter, which are lance-shaped, green above, and
whitish below. The powder is used as a perfume, which to the nostrils
of the Hottentot is highly agreeable, but to the European is simply
abominable, especially when mingled with the odor of rancid grease and
long-worn skin dresses.
Skins are prepared in some places after a different manner to that
which has been described when treating of the Kaffirs, and undergo a
kind of tanning process. When a Hottentot, wishes to make a leathern
robe, or other article of dress, he deprives the skin of its hair by
rolling it up with the furry side inward, and allowing it to undergo a
partial putrefaction. In the mean while he prepares his tanning-vat,
by fixing four stakes into the ground, connecting their tops with
cross-bars, and lashing a tolerably large hide loosely to them, so as
to form a rude kind of basin or tub. A quantity of the astringent bark
of the karroo thorn is placed in the vat together with the skin, and
a sufficient quantity of ley is poured over them until the vessel is
full. The bark of this acacia not only possesses a powerful tanning
principle, but at the same time imparts to the leather that reddish
hue which is so much admired by Hottentots, and which is afterward
heightened by the sibilo and buchu which are rubbed upon it.
Mr. Baines is, however, of opinion that this mode of preparing skins,
primitive as it may appear, is not the invention of the Hottentot race,
but is due to the superiority of the white settlers. The tanning-vat of
hide appears simple enough to have been invented by a savage race, but,
as it is only used near European settlements, the idea has probably
been borrowed by the Hottentots. In places remote from the white
settlers, and where their influence is not felt, the Hottentots do
not tan the hides by steeping them in ley, but prepare them by manual
labor in a manner somewhat similar to that which is used by the Kaffir.
When a large cow-hide is to be prepared, several men take part in the
proceeding, and make quite a festival of it. They sit in a circle, with
the hide in their midst, and work it with their hands, occasionally
rubbing in some butter or other grease. They sing songs the while, and
at regular intervals they grasp the hide with both hands, and give it a
violent pull outward, so as to stretch it equally in every direction.
The cord or string of which the Hottentots make so much use is twisted
in a very simple manner. The bark of the ever-useful acacia is stripped
from the branches, and divided into fibres by being steeped in water,
and then pounded between two stones. Sometimes the rope-maker prefers
to separate the fibres by chewing the bark, which is thought to have
an agreeable flavor. When a sufficient quantity of fibre has been
prepared, the workwoman seats herself on the ground, takes two yarns
of fibre, and rolls them with the palm of her hand upon the thigh. She
then brings them together, gives them a quick roll in the opposite
direction, and thus makes a two-stranded rope with a rapidity that
could hardly be conceived, seeing that no tools of any kind are used.
If any of my readers should happen to be skilled in nautical affairs,
they will see that this two-stranded rope made by the Hottentots is
formed on exactly the same principle as the “knittles” which are so
important in many of the nautical knots and splices.
Rope-making is entirely a woman’s business, and is not an agreeable
one. Probably it is remitted to the women for that very reason. The
friction of the rope against the skin is apt to abrade it, and makes
it so sore that the women are obliged to relieve themselves by rolling
the rope upon the calf of the leg instead of the thigh, and by the
time that the injured portion has recovered the other is sore; and so
the poor women have to continue their work, alternating between one
portion and another, until by long practice the skin becomes quite
hard, and can endure the friction without being injured by it.
Among all the tribes of Southern Africa the taste for hide ropes is
universal. Ropes of some kind are absolutely necessary in any country,
and in this part of the world, as well as in some others, ropes made
of hide are very much preferred to those which are formed from any
other material. The reason for this preference is evidently owing to
the peculiarities of the country. There are plenty of fibrous plants in
Southern Africa which would furnish ropes quite equal to those which
are in use in Europe, but ropes formed of vegetable fibre are found to
be unsuitable to the climate, and, as a natural consequence, they have
been abandoned even by European colonists.
The mode of preparing the hide ropes varies but little, except in
unimportant details, and is briefly as follows:--The first process is
to prepare a vessel full of ley, which is made by steeping the ashes
of several plants, known under the generic title of Salsola. The
young shoots of these plants are collected for the purpose, burned,
and the ashes carefully collected. When an ox is killed, the hide is
cut into narrow strips, and these strips are placed in the tub of ley
and allowed to soak for some four-and-twenty hours. At the expiration
of that time, a sufficient number of the strips are joined together,
loosely twisted, and passed over the horizontal branch of a tree, a
heavy weight being suspended from each end, so as to keep the thongs
always on the stretch. A couple of natives then set to work, one
stationing himself at each end of the rope, and twisting it by means
of a short stick passed between the strands, while by the aid of the
sticks they drag the rope backward and forward over the bough, never
allowing it to rest on the same spot for any length of time, and always
twisting the sticks in opposite directions. The natural consequence
is, that the rope becomes very pliant, and at the same time is equally
stretched throughout its length, the regularity of the twist depending
on the skill of the two rope-makers. No other treatment is required, as
the powerful liquid in which the raw thongs have been steeped enacts
the part of the tanning “fat,” and the continually dragging over the
branch serves to make it pliant, and to avoid the danger of “kinking.”
The use of the rope among the European settlers affords a good example
of the reaction that takes place when a superior race mingles with an
inferior. The white men have taught the aborigines many useful arts,
but at the same time have been obliged to them for instruction in
many others, without which they could not maintain their hold of the
country. The reader will notice that the hide ropes are made by men,
because they are formed from that noble animal, the ox, whereas ropes
made of ignoble vegetable fibre are handed over to the women.
A remarkable substitute for a spoon is used by this people. It consists
of the stem of a fibrous plant, called Umphombo, and is made in the
following manner. The stem, which is flattish, and about an inch
in width, is cut into suitable lengths and soaked in water. It is
then beaten between two stones, until the fibres separate from each
other, so as to form a sort of brush. This is dipped in the liquid,
and conveys a tolerable portion to the mouth. The mention of this
brush-spoon recalls a curious method of catching flies. The reader may
remember that in Southern Africa, as well as in other hot parts of
the world, the flies are so numerous as to become a veritable plague.
They come in swarms into the houses, and settle upon every article of
food, so that the newly-arrived traveller scarcely knows how to eat his
meals. Being thirsty creatures, they especially affect any liquid, and
will plunge into the cup while its owner is in the act of drinking.
The natives contrive to lessen this evil, though they cannot entirely
rid themselves of it, and mostly do so by the following ingenious
contrivance:--
They first shut the doors of the hut, and then dip a large wisp of hay
in milk, and hang it to the roof. All the flies are attracted to it,
and in a few seconds nothing can be seen but a large, seething mass of
living creatures. A bag is then gently passed over them, and a smart
shake given to the trap, which causes all the flies to fall in a mass
to the bottom of the bag. The bag is then removed, so as to allow a
fresh company of flies to settle on the hay wisp, and by the time that
the first batch of flies is killed, another is ready for immolation.
Sometimes nearly a bushel of flies will be thus taken in a day. It is
most likely that the natives were led to this invention by seeing the
flies cluster round their brush-spoons when they had been laid aside
after use.
In some parts of the country, the flies are captured by means of the
branches of a bush belonging to the genus Roridula. This is covered
with a glutinous secretion, and, whenever the flies settle upon it,
they are held fast and cannot escape. Branches of this useful plant
are placed in different parts of the hut, and are very effective in
clearing it of the little pests. Many of these flies are identical
with the common house-fly of England, but there are many other species
indigenous to the country.
The Hottentot is a tolerably good carver in wood, not because he has
much idea of art, but because he has illimitable patience, and not
the least idea of the value of time. Bowls and jars are carved from
wood, mostly that of the willow tree, and the carver prefers to work
while the sap is still in the wood. A kind of willow grows by the
water-side, as is the case in this country, and this is cut down with
the odd little hatchets which are used in this part of the world.
These hatchets are made on exactly the same principle as the hoes
which have been so often mentioned, and which are represented on page
57. The head, however, is very much smaller, and the blade is set in
a line with the handle instead of transversely. They are so small and
feeble, that the labor of several men is required to cut down a tree
only eighteen inches or so in diameter; and the work which an American
axeman would complete in a few minutes occupies them a day or two. When
the trunk has been at last severed, it is cut into convenient lengths
by the same laborious process, and the different portions are mostly
shaped by the same axe. If a bowl is the article to be made, it is
partly hollowed by the axe, and the remainder of the work is done with
a knife bent into a hook-like shape. These bowls are, on the average, a
foot or eighteen inches in diameter.
Making bowls is a comparatively simple business, but the carving of a
jar is a most laborious task. In making jars, the carver is forced to
depend almost entirely upon the bent knife, and from the shape of the
article it is evident that, when it is hollowed, the carver must work
in a very constrained manner. Still, as time is of no value, the jar
is at last completed, and, like the bowl, is well rubbed with fat, in
order to prevent it from splitting. Generally, these jars hold about
a gallon, but some of them are barely a quarter of that size, while
others are large enough to contain five gallons. An European, with
similar tools, would not be able to make the smaller sizes of these
jars, as he would not be able to pass his hand into the interior. The
hand of the Hottentot is, however, so small and delicate, that he finds
no difficulty in the task. The jar is called Bambus in the Hottentot
language.
Unlike the Kaffirs, the Hottentots are rather a nomad race, and their
huts are so made that they can be taken to pieces and packed for
transportation in less than an hour, while a couple of hours’ labor
is all that is required for putting them up afresh, even when the
architect works as deliberately as is always the case among uncivilized
natives. Consequently, when a horde of Hottentots travels from one
place to another, a village seems to spring up almost as if by magic,
and travellers who have taken many Hottentots in their train have been
very much astonished at the sudden transformation of the scene.
In general construction, the huts are made on the same principle as
those of the Kaffir, being formed of a cage-like framework, covered
with lighter material. A Hottentot kraal is illustrated opposite. The
Kaffir, however, interweaves the withes and reeds of which the hut is
made among the framework, and binds them together with ropes, when, if
he is going to settle determinately in one spot, or if he builds a hut
in a well-established kraal, he plasters the interior with clay, so as
to make the structure firm and impervious to weather. The Hottentot,
on the contrary, covers his hut with reed mats, which look very much
like the sleeping-mats of the Kaffirs, and can be easily lashed to the
framework, and as easily removed. These mats are made of two species
of reed, one of which is soft, and can be easily manipulated, while
the other is hard, and gives some trouble to the maker. But the former
has the disadvantage of being very liable to decay, and of lasting
but a short time, whereas the latter is remarkable for its powers of
endurance. These plants are called respectively the Soft Reed and the
Hard Reed, and their scientific titles are _Cyperus textilis_ and
_Scriptus tegetalis_.
The method of making the mats is somewhat similar to that which is
employed by the Kaffirs. The reeds are cut so as to measure six feet in
length, and are placed in a heap by the side of the mat-maker, together
with a quantity of the bark string which has already been mentioned.
He pierces them with a bone or metal needle, or with a mimosa thorn
if he does not possess a needle, and passes the string through the
holes, so as to fasten the reeds together. Even considering the very
slow and deliberate manner in which the Hottentot works, the mats can
be made with considerable rapidity, and it is needless to observe that
three Hottentots do not get through nearly as much work as an average
Englishman.
In some cases, the Hottentot substitutes the skins of sheep or oxen for
mats, but the latter are most generally in use--probably because the
skins are too valuable as articles of apparel to be employed for the
mere exterior of a house. Owing to the manner in which these huts are
made, they are more impervious to weather than those of the Kaffir,
and, as a necessary consequence, are less capable of letting out the
smoke. An European can, on a pinch, exist in a Kaffir hut, but to do so
in a skin-covered Hottentot house is almost impossible. To a restless
and ever-moving people like the Hottentots, these mats are absolute
necessaries. A hut of ordinary size can be packed on the back of an
ox, while another ox can carry all the simple furniture and utensils,
together with the young children; and thus a whole family can be
moved at a few minutes’ notice, without much inconvenience. The huts
are, in fact, nothing but tents made of mats, and resemble, in many
particulars, the camel-hair tents of the equally nomad Arabs.
[Illustration: HOTTENTOT KRAAL. (See page 228.)]
No one--not even the owner--knows, on seeing a Hottentot hut, whether
he will find it in the same place after a few hours have elapsed.
Sometimes, a Hottentot wife will set to work, pull the hut to pieces,
but, instead of packing it on the back of an ox, rebuild her house
within twenty or thirty yards of its original locality. The object
of this strange conduct is to rid herself and family from the fleas,
which, together with other vermin, swarm exceedingly in a Hottentot’s
house, and drive the inmates to escape in the manner related. These
unpleasant parasites are generally attacked in the early morning, the
mantles, sheepskins, mats, and other articles, being taken outside the
hut, and beaten soundly with a stick. Sufficient, however, remain to
perpetuate the breed, and at last, as has been seen, they force the
Hottentot fairly to remove the house altogether.
As to the Hottentots themselves, they suffer but comparatively little
inconvenience from the bites of these creatures, against which the
successive coatings of grease, buchu, and sibilo act as a partial
defence. But, whenever the insects are fortunate enough to attack a
clean-skinned European, they take full advantage of the opportunity,
and drive him half mad. Gordon Cumming relates an amusing account of
a small adventure which happened to himself in connection with these
insects. He was extremely tired, and fell asleep among his followers,
one of whom compassionately took off the kaross which he was wearing,
and spread it over him. Presently the sleeper started up in a state of
unbearable irritation from the bites of the numerous parasites with
which the kaross was stocked. He was obliged instantly to remove every
single article of apparel, and have them all beaten and searched before
he could again resume them.
As may be seen by inspection of the illustration, the huts are not of
quite the same shape as those belonging to the Kaffirs, the ends being
flattened, and the apertures square instead of rounded, the door, in
fact, being simply made by the omission of one mat. The nomad life
of the Hottentots is necessitated by their indolent habits, and their
utter want of forethought. The Kaffir is not remarkable for the latter
quality, as indeed is the case with most savage nations. But the Kaffir
is, at all events, a tolerable agriculturist, and raises enough grain
to supply his family with food, besides, in many cases, enclosing
patches of ground in which to plant certain vegetables and fruit. The
Hottentot, however, never had much notion of agriculture, and what
little he attempts is of the rudest description.
The unwieldy hoe with which the Kaffir women break up the ground is a
sufficiently rude and clumsy instrument, but it is perfection itself
when compared with the digging stick of the Hottentot. This is nothing
more than a stick of hard wood sharpened at one end, and weighted by
means of a perforated stone through which it is passed, and which is
held in its place by a wedge. With this rude instrument the Hottentot
can break up the ground faster than might be imagined, but he oftener
uses it for digging up wild plants, and unearthing sundry burrowing
animals, than for any agricultural purposes.
The life of a Hottentot does not tie him to any particular spot. A
sub-tribe or horde, which tolerably corresponds with the kraal of the
Kaffir, settles down in some locality which they think will supply
nourishment, and which is near water. Here, if the spot be favorable,
they will sometimes rest for a considerable time, occasionally for
a space of several years. Facility for hunting has much to do with
the length of time that a horde remains in one spot, inasmuch as the
Hottentots are admirable hunters, and quite rival the Kaffirs in this
respect, even if they do not excel them. They are especially notable
for the persevering obstinacy with which they will pursue their game,
thinking a whole day well bestowed if they succeed at last in bringing
down their prey.
CHAPTER XXIII.
WEAPONS.
WEAPONS OF THE HOTTENTOT AND THEIR USE -- HIS VORACITY, AND
CAPABILITY OF BEARING HUNGER -- MODE OF COOKING -- POWER OF SLEEP
-- DISTINCTION BETWEEN HOTTENTOTS AND KAFFIRS -- CATTLE AND THEIR
USES -- THE BAKELEYS OR FIGHTING OXEN -- A HOTTENTOT’S MEMORY FOR A
COW -- MARRIAGE -- POLYGAMY NOT OFTEN PRACTISED -- WANT OF RELIGION
-- LANGUAGE OF THE HOTTENTOTS -- THE CHARACTERISTIC “CLICKS” --
AMUSEMENTS OF THE HOTTENTOTS -- SINGING AND DANCING -- SUBJECT OF
THEIR SONGS -- THE MAN’S DANCE -- ALL AMUSEMENTS RESTRICTED TO NIGHT
-- THE MELON DANCE -- “CARD-PLAYING” -- LOVE OF A PRACTICAL JOKE --
INABILITY TO MEASURE TIME -- WARFARE -- SICKNESS, DEATH, AND BURIAL.
The weapons which the Hottentots use are mostly the bow and arrow.
These weapons are almost identical with those employed by the
Bosjesmans, and will be described in a future page. They also employ
the assagai, but do not seem to be particularly fond of it, lacking the
muscular strength which enables the Kaffir to make such terrible use of
it. Moreover, the Hottentot does not carry a sheaf of these weapons,
but contents himself with a single one, which he does not throw until
he is at tolerably close quarters.
He is, however, remarkable for his skill in throwing the knob-kerrie,
which is always of the short form, so that he can carry several of them
in his belt. In fact, he uses the kerrie much as the Kaffir uses the
assagai, having always a quantity of them to his hand, and hurling them
one after the other with deadly accuracy of aim. With these weapons,
so useless in the hands of an ordinary European, he can match himself
against most of the ordinary animals of Southern Africa, excepting, of
course, the larger elephants, rhinoceros, and hippopotamus, and the
predaceous felidæ, such as the lion or leopard. These, however, he can
destroy by means of pitfalls and other ingenious devices, and if a
Hottentot hunter sets himself determinedly to kill or capture any given
animal, that creature’s chances of life are but small.
When he has succeeded in killing game, his voracity is seen to equal
his patience. Hunger he can endure with wonderful indifference,
tightening his belt day by day, and contriving to support existence
on an almost inappreciable quantity of food. But, when he can only
procure meat, he eats with a continued and sustained voracity that is
almost incredible. For quality be cares but little, and so that he can
obtain unlimited supplies of meat, he does not trouble himself whether
it be tough or tender. Whenever one of a horde of Hottentots succeeds
in killing a large animal, such as an elephant or hippopotamus, and it
happens to be at a distance from the kraal, the inhabitants prefer to
strike their tent-like houses and to remove them to the animal rather
than trouble themselves by making repeated journeys to and fro. The
chief reason for this strange conduct is, that, if they took the latter
alternative, they would deprive themselves of one of the greatest
luxuries which a Hottentot can enjoy. Seldom tasting meat, they become
semi-intoxicated under its influence, and will gorge themselves
to the utmost limit of endurance, sleeping after the fashion of a
boa-constrictor that has swallowed a goat, and then awaking only to
gorge themselves afresh, and fall asleep again.
There is an excuse for this extraordinary exhibition of gluttony,
namely, that the hot climate causes meat to putrefy so rapidly that
it must be eaten at once if it is eaten at all. Even as it is, the
Hottentots are often obliged to eat meat that is more than tainted,
and from which even the greatest admirer of high game would recoil
with horror. They do not, however, seem to trouble themselves about
such trifles, and devour the tainted meat as eagerly as if it were
perfectly fresh. Whatever may be the original quality of the meat, it
owes nothing to the mode in which it is dressed, for the Hottentots
are perhaps the very worst cooks in the world. They take an earthen
pot, nearly fill it with water, put it on the fire, and allow it to
boil. They then cut up their meat into lumps as large as a man’s fist,
throw them into the pot, and permit them to remain there until they are
wanted. Sometimes, when the feasters are asleep themselves, they allow
the meat to remain in the pot for half a day or so, during which time
the women are obliged to keep the water continually boiling, and it may
be imagined the ultimate result of their cooking is not particularly
palatable.
It has already been mentioned that the Hottentot tribes are remarkable
for their appetites. They are no less notable for their power of sleep.
A thorough-bred Hottentot can sleep at any time, and it is almost
impossible to place him under conditions in which he will not sleep.
If he be pinched with hunger, and can see no means of obtaining food
either by hunting or from the ground, he lies down, rolls himself
up in his kaross, and in a few moments is wrapped in slumber. Sleep
to him almost answers the purpose of food, and he can often say
with truth that “he who sleeps dines.” When he sleeps his slumber
is truly remarkable, as it appears more like a lethargy than sleep,
as we understand the word. A gun may be fired close to the ear of a
sleeping Hottentot and he will not notice it, or, at all events, will
merely turn himself and sink again to repose. Even in sleep there is a
distinction between the Kaffir and the Hottentot. The former lies at
full length on his mat, while the other coils himself up like a human
hedgehog. In spite of the evil atmosphere of their huts, the Hottentots
are companionable even in their sleep, and at night the door of a hut
will be covered with a number of Hottentots, all lying fast asleep, and
so mixed up together that it is scarcely possible to distinguish the
various bodies to which the limbs belong. The illustration No. 3, page
247, gives a good idea of this singular custom.
The cattle of the Hottentots have several times been mentioned.
These, like the Kaffir oxen, are used as beasts of burden and for
riding, and are accoutred in the same manner, _i. e._ by a leathern
rope passed several times round the body, and hauled tight by men at
each end. Perhaps the reader may remember that in days long gone by,
when the Hottentots were a powerful nation and held the command of
Southern Africa, their kraals or villages were defended by a peculiar
breed of oxen, which were especially trained for that purpose, and
which answered the same purpose as the watch-dogs which now beset the
villages. These oxen were said to be trained to guard the entrance
of the kraal, and to know every inhabitant of the village, from the
oldest inhabitant down to the child which could only just crawl about.
Strangers they would not permit to approach the kraal except when
escorted by one of the inhabitants, nor would they suffer him to go out
again except under the same protection.
This story is generally supposed to be a mere fabrication, and possibly
may be so. There is, however, in my collection an ox-horn which was
brought from Southern Africa by the Rev. Mr. Shooter, and of which no
one could give an account. It is evidently very old, and, although the
horn of a domesticated variety of cattle, is quite unlike the horns of
the oxen which belong to the native tribes of the present day, being
twice as large, and having altogether a different aspect. It is just
such a horn as might have belonged to the oxen aforesaid, and, although
it cannot be definitely said to have grown on the head of one of these
animals, there is just a possibility that such may have been the case.
Like the Kaffir, the Hottentot has a wonderful recollection of an ox.
If he but sees one for a minute or two he will remember that ox again,
wherever it may be, and even after the lapse of several years. He will
recognize it in the midst of a herd, even in a strange place, where
he could have no expectation of meeting it, and he will remember its
“spoor,” and be able to trace its footsteps among the tracks of the
whole herd. He has even been known to discover a stolen cow by seeing
a calf which she had produced after she was stolen, and which he
recognized from its likeness to its mother.
The marriages of the Hottentots are very simple affairs, and consist
merely in paying a certain price and taking the bride home. In
Kolben’s well-known work there is a most elaborate and circumstantial
description of a Hottentot marriage, detailing with needless precision
a number of extraordinary rites performed by the priest over the
newly-wedded pair. Now, inasmuch as the order of priests is not known
to have existed among the Hottentots, and certainly did not exist in
Kolben’s time, the whole narrative falls to the ground. The fact is,
that Kolben found it easier to describe second-hand than to investigate
for himself, and the consequence was, that the Dutch colonists, from
whom he gained his information, amused themselves by imposing upon his
credulity.
Polygamy, although not prohibited among the Hottentots, is but rarely
practised. Some men have several wives, but this is the exception, and
not the rule.
As they have no priests, so they have no professional doctors. They are
all adepts in the very slight amount of medical and surgical knowledge
which is required by them, and have no idea of a separate order of
men who practise the healing art. Unlike the Kaffirs, who are the
most superstitious of mankind, the Hottentots are entirely free from
superstition, inasmuch as they have not the least conception of any
religious sentiments whatsoever. The present world forms the limit
of all their ideas, and they seem, so far as is known, to be equally
ignorant of a Creator and of the immortality of the soul.
The language of the Hottentot races is remarkable for a peculiarity
which is, I believe, restricted to themselves and to the surrounding
tribes, who have evidently learned it from them. This is the presence
of the “click,” which is found in almost all the tribes that inhabit
Southern Africa, with the exception of the Amazulu, who are free from
this curious adjunct to their language, and speak a tongue as soft as
Italian. There are three of these “clicks,” formed by the tongue, the
teeth, and the palate, and each of them alters the signification of the
word with which it is used. The first, which is in greatest use, is
made by pressing the tip of the tongue against the upper front teeth,
and then smartly disengaging it. The sound is exactly like that which
is produced by some persons when they are annoyed. The second click is
formed by pressing the tongue against the roof of the mouth, and then
sharply withdrawing it, so as to produce a sound like that which is
used by grooms when urging a horse. It has to be done, however, with
the least possible force that will produce the effect, as otherwise
the click and the syllable to which it is joined cannot be sounded
simultaneously. The last click is much louder than the others, and is
formed by drawing the tongue back as far as possible, and pressing the
tip against the back of the palate. It is then forced rapidly toward
the lips, so as to produce a much deeper and more sonorous sound than
can be obtained by the two former modes.
In the few words which can be given to this branch of the subject,
we will distinguish these several sounds by the titles of “clack,”
“click,” and “cluck.” The reader will find it very difficult to produce
either of these sounds simultaneously with a part of a word, but, if
he should desire to make himself understood in the Hottentot dialect,
it is absolutely necessary that he should do so. How needful these
curious adjuncts are has been well shown by Le Vaillant. For instance,
the word Aap, without any click at all, signifies a horse, but with
the click it signifies an arrow, and with the clack it becomes the
name of a river. It is, of course, impossible to reduce this language
to any known alphabet, and the necessary consequence is that hardly
any two travellers who have written accounts of the Hottentot tribes
have succeeded in spelling words so that they would be recognized, or
in such a manner that the reader would be able to pronounce them. The
general mode of expressing these clicks is by prefixing the letters
_ts_ or _g_ to the word, and the reader may find a very familiar
example in the word Gnoo, which ought really to be spelt without the
_g_, and with some prefix which would denote the kind of click which is
used with it.
The amusements of the Hottentots consist chiefly of singing and
dancing, together with playing on a curious instrument called the
Goura. This instrument, however, belongs rather to the Bosjesman group
of the Hottentot race, and will therefore be described in a future
page. Their songs are also evidently derived from the same source,
and their melodies are identical. Examples of Bosjesman songs will be
presently given, together with the description of the Goura. In the
words of the songs, however, the Hottentots have the advantage, as they
always have some signification, whereas those of the Bosjesmans have
not even the semblance of meaning, and are equivalent to the _do_,
_re_, _mi_, &c., of modern music.
Le Vaillant mentions that the subject of the songs which the Hottentots
sang was almost always some adventure which had happened to themselves,
so that, like the negroes, they can sing throughout the whole night, by
the simple expedient of repeating the words of their song over and over
again. They prefer the night to the day for this purpose, because the
atmosphere is cooler, and the tasks of the day are over.
“When they are desirous of indulging in this amusement, they join hands
and form a circle of greater or less extent, in proportion to the
number of male and female dancers, who are always mixed with a kind
of symmetry. When the chain is made, they turn round from one side
to another, separating at certain intervals to mark the measure, and
from time to time clap their hands without interrupting the cadence,
while with their voices they accompany the sound of the instrument, and
continually chant ‘Hoo! Hoo!’ This is the general burden of their song.
“Sometimes one of the dancers quits the circle, and, going to the
centre, performs there alone a few steps after the English manner,
all the merit and beauty of which consist in performing them with
equal quickness and precision, without stirring from the spot where he
stands. After this they all quit each other’s hands, follow one another
carelessly with an air of terror and melancholy, their heads leaning to
one shoulder, and their eyes cast down toward the ground, which they
look at with attention; and in a moment after they break forth in the
liveliest demonstration of joy, and the most extravagant merriment.
“They are highly delighted with this contrast when it is well
performed. All this is at bottom but an alternate assemblage of very
droll and amusing pantomimes. It must be observed that the dancers
make a hollow monotonous kind of humming, which never ceases, except
when they join the spectators and sing the wonderful chorus, ‘Hoo!
Hoo!’ which appears to be the life and soul of this magnificent music.
They usually conclude with a general ball; that is to say, the ring is
broken and they all dance in confusion as each chooses, and upon this
occasion they display all their strength and agility. The most expert
dancers repeat, by way of defiance to each other, those dangerous leaps
and musical quivers of our grand academies, which excite laughter as
deservedly as the ‘Hoo! Hoo!’ of Africa.”
Whether for singing, dancing, or other relaxation, the Hottentots
never assemble except by night, the day being far too precious for
mere amusement. During the day the men are engaged in the different
pursuits of their life, some being far from their home on the track
of some animal which they are hunting, and whose flesh is devoted to
the support of themselves and their families. Other are laboriously
making snares, digging pitfalls, or going the rounds of those which
are already made, so that animals which have been captured may be
removed, and the snares reset. They have also to make their bows,
arrows, spears, and clubs, operations which absorb much time, partly
because their tools are few and imperfect, and partly because all their
work is undertaken with a degree of deliberation which is exceedingly
irritating to an European spectator.
The women, too, are engaged in their own occupations, which are
infinitely more laborious than those of the men, and consist of all
kinds of domestic work, including taking down and putting up the huts,
collecting wood for the evening fires, and preparing the food for the
men when they return home. With the shades of evening all attempts at
industry are given up, and the Hottentots amuse themselves throughout
nearly the entire night. The savage does not by any means go to bed
with the birds and arise with them, as is popularly supposed, and
almost invariably is an incorrigible sitter-up at night, smoking,
talking, singing, dancing, and otherwise amusing himself, as if he had
done nothing whatever all day.
Perhaps he may owe the capability of enduring such constant dissipation
to the fact that he can command sleep at will, and that his slumber
is so deep as to be undisturbed by the clamor that is going on around
him. If, for example, a Hottentot has been hunting all day, and has
returned home weary with the chase and with carrying the animals, he
will not think of sleeping until he has had his supper, smoked his
pipe, and enjoyed an hour or two of dancing and singing. But, as soon
as he feels disposed to cease from his amusements, he retires from the
circle, rolls himself up in his kaross, lies down, and in a few seconds
is fast asleep, unheeding the noise which is made close to his ears by
his companions who are still pursuing their revels.
There is a singular dance which is much in vogue among the young
Hottentot girls, and which is, as far as I know, peculiar to them. As
a small melon is the chief object of the sport, it goes by the name of
the Melon Dance, and is thus performed:--In the evening, when the air
is cool, the girls assemble and choose one of their number as a leader.
She takes a small round melon in her hands, and begins to run in a
circle, waving her arms and flinging about her limbs in the wildest
imaginable way. The others follow her and imitate her movements, and,
as they are not impeded by many trammels of dress, and only wear the
ordinary cap and girdle of leathern thongs, their movements are full of
wild grace. As the leader runs round the course, she flings the melon
in the air, catches it, flings it again, and at last stoops suddenly,
leaps into the air, and throws the melon beneath her toward the girl
who follows her. The object of this dance is twofold. The second girl
has to catch the melon without ceasing from her course, and the first
has to throw it when she fancies that the second is off her guard.
Consequently, she makes all kinds of feints, pretending to throw the
melon several times, and trying to deceive by every means in her power.
If the second girl fails in catching the melon the first retains her
leadership, but if she succeeds she becomes leader, and goes through
the same manœuvres. In this way the melon goes round and round, and the
sport is continued until the dancers are too fatigued to continue it.
From the above description some persons might fancy that this dance
offends the sense of decorum. It does not so. It is true that the style
of clothing which is worn by the dancers is not according to European
notions, but, according to their own ideas, it is convenient and
according to usage. Neither is there anything in the dance itself which
ought to shock a rightly constituted mind. It is simply an ebullition
of youthful spirits, and has nothing in common with dances in many
parts of the world which are avowedly and intendedly licentious, and
which, whether accompanied by more or less clothing than is worn by
these Hottentot girls, are repulsive rather than attractive to any one
who possesses any amount of self-respect.
In this instance the dance is conducted in perfect innocence, and
the performers have no more idea of impropriety in the scanty though
graceful and artistic dress they wear, than has an English lady
at appearing with her face unveiled. As long as clothing is not
attempted, it does not seem to be required, but, when any portion of
European clothing is assumed, the whole case is altered. Mr. Baines
narrates a little corroborative incident. He was travelling in a wagon,
accompanied, as usual, by Hottentots and their families. The latter,
mostly females, were walking by the side of the wagon, wearing no
costume but the slight leathern girdle. It so happened that some old
shoes were thrown out of the wagon, and immediately appropriated by
the women, who have an absurd hankering after European apparel. No
sooner had they put on shoes than they looked naked. They had not done
so before, but even that slight amount of civilized clothing seemed
to suggest that the whole body had to be clothed also, and so strong
was this feeling that Mr. Baines found means of removing the obnoxious
articles of apparel.
The Hottentots have a remarkable game which they call by the name of
Card-playing, apparently because no cards are used in it. This game is
simply an exhibition of activity and quickness of hand, being somewhat
similar in principle to our own boy’s game of Odd and Even. It is
illustrated on the opposite page, and is thus described by Burchell:--
“At one of the fires an amusement of a very singular and nearly
unintelligible kind was the source of great amusement, not only to
the performers themselves, but to all the bystanders. They called
it Card-playing, a word in this instance strangely misapplied.
Two Hottentots, seated opposite each other on the ground, were
vociferating, as if in a rage, some particular expressions in their
own language: laughing violently, throwing their bodies on either
side, tossing their arms in all directions--at one moment with their
hands close together, at another stretched out wide apart; up in the
air at one time, or in an instant down to the ground; sometimes with
them closed, at other times exhibiting them open to their opponent.
Frequently in the heat of the game they started upon their knees,
falling back immediately on the ground again; and all this in such
a quick, wild, extraordinary manner, that it was impossible, after
watching their motions for a long time, to discover the nature of their
game, or to comprehend the principle on which it was founded, any more
than a person entirely ignorant of the moves at chess could learn that
by merely looking on.
“This is a genuine Hottentot game, as every one would certainly
suppose, on seeing the uncouth manner in which it is played. It is,
they say, of great antiquity, and at present practised only by such as
have preserved some portion of their original customs, and they pretend
that it is not every Hottentot who possesses the talent necessary for
playing it in perfection.
“I found some difficulty in obtaining an intelligible explanation,
but learned at last that the principle consists in concealing a small
piece of stick in one hand so dexterously that the opponent shall not
be able, when both closed hands are presented to him, to distinguish
in which it is held, while at the same time he is obliged to decide
by some sign or motion either on one or the other. As soon as the
opponent has gained a certain number of guesses, he is considered to
have won a game, and it then becomes his turn to take the stick, and
display his ingenuity in concealing it and in deceiving the other. In
this manner the games are continued alternately, often the whole night
long, or until the players are exhausted with fatigue. In the course
of them various little incidents, either of ingenuity or of mistake,
occur to animate their exertions, and excite the rude, harmless mirth
of their surrounding friends.” The reader will probably see the close
resemblance between this game played by the Hottentots of Southern
Africa and the well-known game of “Morro,” that is so popular in
several parts of Southern Europe.
The Hottentot seems to be as fond of a practical joke as the Kaffir,
and to take it as good-humoredly. On one occasion, when a traveller was
passing through Africa with a large party, several of the Hottentots,
who ought to have been on the watch, contrived to draw near the fire,
and to fall asleep. Some of their companions determined to give them a
thorough fright, and to recall to their minds that they ought to have
been watching and not sleeping. Accordingly, they went off to a little
distance, and shot a couple of Bosjesman arrows close to the sleepers.
Deep as is a Hottentot’s slumber, he can shake off sleep in a moment at
the approach of danger, and, although the loudest sound will not wake
him, provided that it be of a harmless character, an almost inaudible
sound will reach his ears, provided that it presage danger. As soon as
the sleeping Hottentots heard the twang of the bow, they sprang up in
alarm, which was not decreased by the sight of the arrows falling close
to them, sprang to the wagon for their arms, and were received with a
shout of laughter.
However, they soon had their revenge. One dark evening the young men
were amusing themselves with setting fire to some dried reeds a few
hundred yards from the camp. While they were enjoying the waves of fire
as they rolled along, driven by the wind, the Hottentots stole behind
the reeds, and with the shell of an ostrich egg imitated the roar of
an approaching lion so accurately, that the young men began to shout
in order to drive the lion away, and at last ran to the camp screaming
with terror. Of course the songs that were sung in the camp that night
were full of reference to Bosjesmans and lions.
[Illustration: (1.) CARD PLAYING. (See page 236.)]
[Illustration: (2.) SHOOTING CATTLE. (See page 254.)]
The Hottentot has a constitutional inability to compute time. A
traveller can never discover the age of a Hottentot, partly because
the man himself has not the least notion of his age, or indeed of
annual computation at all, and partly because a Hottentot looks as old
at thirty-five as at sixty-five. He can calculate the time of day by
the position of the sun with regard to the meridian, but his memory
will not serve him so far as to enable him to compute annual time by
the height of the sun above the horizon. As is the case with most
savage races, his unit of time is the new moon, and he makes all his
reckonings of time to consist of so many moons. An amusing instance of
this deficiency is given by Dr. Lichtenstein, in his “Travels in South
Africa”:--
“A Hottentot, in particular, engaged our attention by the simplicity
with which he told his story. After he had harangued for a long time in
broken Dutch, we collected so much as that he agreed with a colonist to
serve him for a certain time, at fixed wages, as herdsman, but before
the time expired they had parted by mutual agreement. The dispute was
how much of the time remained; consequently, how much wages the master
had a right to deduct from the sum which was to have been paid for the
whole time.
“To illustrate this matter, the Hottentot gave us the following
account:--‘My Baas,’ said he, ‘will have it that I was to serve so
long’ (and here he stretched out his left arm and hand, and laid the
little finger of his right hand directly under the arm); ‘but I say
that I only agreed to serve so long,’ and here he laid his right hand
upon the joint of the left. Apparently, he meant by this to signify
that the proportion of the time he had served with that he had agreed
to serve was the same as the proportion of what he pointed out of the
arm to the whole length of it. At the same time he showed us a small
square stick, in which, at every full moon, he had made a little notch,
with a double one at the full moon when he quitted the colonist’s
service. As the latter was present, and several of the colonists and
Hottentots, who attended as auditors, could ascertain exactly the time
of entering on the service, the conclusion was, as is very commonly the
case, that both the master and the servant were somewhat in the wrong;
that the one reckoned too much of the time expired, the other too
little; and that, according to the Hottentot’s mode of measuring, the
time expired came to about the knuckle.
“The Hottentots understand no other mode of measuring time but by lunar
months and days; they have no idea of the division of the day into
hours. If a man asks a Hottentot how far it is to such a place, he
either makes no answer, or points to a certain spot in the heavens, and
says, ‘The sun will be there when you get to it.’”
Warfare among the Hottentots scarcely deserves the name, because we can
hardly use such a term as “warfare” where there is no distinction of
officer or private, where there is no commander, and no plan of action.
The men who are able to wield the bow and arrow advance in a body upon
the enemy, and are led by any one who thinks himself brave enough to
take the command. When they come to close quarters with the enemy,
every one fights in the way that suits himself best, without giving
support to those of his own side, or expecting it from his comrades.
Even the chief man of a horde is not necessarily the leader, and indeed
his authority over the horde is more nominal than real. A mere boy
may assume the leadership of the expedition, and, if he is courageous
enough to take the lead, he may keep it until some still braver warrior
comes to the front. It evident that such warfare is merely a succession
of skirmishes or duels, much as was the case in the days of Hector and
Achilles, each soldier selecting his own particular adversary, and
fighting him until one of the two is killed, runs away, or renders
himself prisoner.
As far as is known, the Hottentots never made war, according to the
usual acceptation of the word. If insulted or aggrieved by having their
cattle stolen, they would go off and make reprisals, but they had no
idea of carrying on war for any political object. This is probably the
reason why they were so completely overcome by the Kaffir tribes, who
had some knowledge of warfare as an art, and who drove them further
and further away from their own domains, until their nationality was
destroyed, and they were reduced to a mere aggregation of scattered
tribes, without unity, and consequently without power.
However nationally unwarlike the Hottentot may be, and however
incapable he may be of military organization, he can be made into a
soldier who is not only useful, but unapproachable in his own peculiar
line. Impatient, as a rule, of military discipline, he hates above
all things to march in step, to go through the platoon exercise, and
to perform those mechanical movements which delight the heart of the
drill-sergeant. He is, as a rule, abhorrent of anything like steady
occupation, and this tendency of mind incapacitates him from being an
agriculturist, while it aids in qualifying him for the hunter’s life.
Now, as a rule, a good hunter makes a good soldier, especially of the
irregular kind, and the training which is afforded by the pursuit
of the fleet, powerful, and dangerous beasts of Africa, makes the
Hottentot one of the best irregular soldiers in the world.
But he must be allowed to fight in his own way, to choose his own time
for attack, to make it in the mode that suits him best, and to run away
if flight happens to suit him better than battle. He has not the least
idea of getting himself killed or wounded on mere points of honor; and
if he sees that the chances of war are likely to go much against him,
he quietly retreats, and “lives to fight another day.” To this mode of
action he is not prompted by any feeling of fear, but merely by the
commonsense view of the case. His business is to kill the enemy, and
he means to do it. But that desirable object cannot be attained if he
allows them to kill him, and so he guards himself against the latter
event as much as possible. Indeed, if he is wounded when he might
have avoided a wound, he feels heartily ashamed of himself for having
committed such an error; and if he succeeds in killing or wounding an
enemy without suffering damage himself, he glories in his superior
ingenuity, and makes merry over the stupidity of his foe.
Fear--as we understand the word--has very little influence over the
Hottentot soldier, whether he be trained to fight with the white man’s
fire-arms, or whether he uses the bow and arrow of his primitive life.
If he must fight, he will do so with a quiet and dogged valor, and
any enemy that thinks to conquer him will find that no easy task lies
before him.
Mr. Christie has narrated to me several incidents which show the
obstinate courage with which a Hottentot can fight when pressed. One of
them is as follows:--
“During the Kaffir war of 1847, a body of Hottentots were surrounded
by a large party of Kaffirs, and, after a severe struggle, succeeded
in cutting their way through their dark foes. One of the Hottentots,
however, happened to be wounded near the spine, so that he lost the
use of his legs, and could not stand. Even though suffering under
this severe injury, he would not surrender, but dragged himself to an
ant-hill, and supported his back against it, so that his arms were
at liberty. In this position he continued to load and fire, though
completely exposed to the bullets and assagais of the Kaffirs. So true
was his aim, even under these circumstances, that he killed and wounded
a considerable number of them; and, when a reinforcing party came to
their help, the brave fellow was at the point of death, but still
breathing, though his body was completely riddled with bullets, and cut
to pieces with spears.”
This anecdote also serves to show the extraordinary tenacity of life
possessed by this race--a tenacity which seems to rival that of the
lower reptiles. On one occasion, Mr. Christie was in a surgeon’s house
in Grahamstown, when a Hottentot walked in, and asked the surgeon to
look at his head, which had been damaged on the previous night by
a blow from a knob-kerrie. He took off his hat and the handkerchief
which, according to custom, was wrapped round his head, and exhibited
an injury which would have killed most Europeans on the spot, and
certainly would have prostrated them utterly. On the crown of his head
there was a circular wound, about an inch in diameter, and more than
half an inch deep, the bone having been driven down on the brain by
a blow from the heavy knob of the weapon. The depressed part of the
skull was raised as well as could be done, and the remainder cut away.
The operation being over, the man replaced his hat and handkerchief,
and walked away, apparently little the worse for his accident, or the
operation which succeeded it.
On another occasion, the same gentleman saw a Hottentot wagon-driver
fall from his seat under the wheels. One of the forewheels passed over
his neck, and, as the wagon was loaded with some two tons of firewood,
it might be supposed that the man was killed on the spot. To the
surprise of the beholder, he was not only alive when free of the wheel,
but had presence of mind to roll out of the way of the hind wheel,
which otherwise must have gone over him. Mr. Christie ran to him, and
helped him to his feet. In answer to anxious questions, he said that he
was not much hurt, except by some small stones which had been forced
into his skin, and which he asked Mr. Christie to remove. Indeed, these
men seem not only to be tenacious of life, but to suffer very little
pain from injuries that would nearly kill a white man, or at all events
would cause him to be nearly dead with pain alone. Yet, callous as
they are to bodily injuries, they seem to be peculiarly susceptible to
poison that mixes with the blood, and, if bitten by a snake, or wounded
by a poisoned arrow, to have very much less chance of life than a
European under similar conditions.
We will conclude this history of the Hottentots with a few remarks on
their treatment of sickness and their burial of the dead.
When Hottentots are ill they obey the instinct which seems to be
implanted equally in man and beast, and separate themselves from their
fellows. Sometimes they take the trouble to have a small hut erected
at a distance from the kraal, but in all cases they keep themselves
aloof as far as possible, and do not mix with their companions until
their health is restored. Of professional physicians they know nothing,
and have in this respect a decided advantage over the Kaffirs, who are
horribly tormented in their hours of sickness by the witch-doctor,
who tries, by all kinds of noisy incantations, to drive out the evil
spirit which is tormenting the sick man. There are certainly some
men among them who possess a kind of knowledge of pharmacy, and these
men are liberal enough of their advice and prescriptions. But they do
not form a distinct order of men, nor do they attempt to work cures
by superhuman means. They are more successful in treating wounds and
bodily injuries than in the management of diseases, because in the
former case there is something tangible with which they can cope,
whereas they cannot see a disease, nor can they produce any immediate
and visible effect, as is the case with a bodily injury.
Sometimes a curious kind of ceremony seems to be performed, which is
probably analogous to the shampooing that is in vogue in many parts
of the earth. The patient lies prostrate while a couple of women, one
on either side, pound and knead him with their closed fists, at the
same time uttering loud cries close to his ear. This apparently rough
treatment seems to have some amount of efficacy in it, as Sparrman
mentions that he has seen it practised on the apparently lifeless body
of a young man who eventually recovered.
Of all diseases the Hottentots dread nothing so much as the small-pox;
and if a single member of the horde be taken with it they leave him in
his hut, strike all their habitations, and move off into the desert,
where they remain until they think that the danger is past. All ties of
relationship and affection are broken through by this dread malady, for
which they know no cure, and which always rages with tenfold violence
among savages. The husband will abandon his wife, and even the mother
her children, in the hope of checking the spread of the disorder, and
the wretched sufferers are left to perish either from the disease
itself or from privation.
When a Hottentot dies the funeral is conducted without any ceremony.
The body is disposed in as small a compass as possible,--indeed, into
the attitude that is assumed during sleep, and the limbs and head
are firmly tied together. A worn-out kaross is then rolled round the
body, and carefully arranged so as to conceal it entirely. The place
of burial is, with certain exceptions, chosen at a distance from the
kraal, and the corpse is then placed in the grave, which is never of
any great depth. Earth is then thrown on the body; and if there are any
stones near the spot, they are mixed with the earth, and heaped above
the grave in order to defend it from the hyænas and jackals, which are
sure to discover that an interment has taken place. If stones cannot
be found, thorn-bushes are used for the same purpose. Generally, the
grave is so shallow, and the stones are so few, that the whole process
of burial is practically rendered nugatory, and before another day has
dawned the hyænas and jackals have scattered the frail defences, dug up
the body, and devoured it.
Should the headman of the kraal die, there are great wailings
throughout the kraal. These cries are begun by the family, taken up by
the inhabitants of the village, and the whole night is spent in loud
howlings and lamentation. His body is usually buried in the middle of
the cattle-pen, as it is a safe place so long as the cattle are in
it, which are watched throughout the night, and over his remains a
considerable pile of stones is raised.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE BOSJESMAN OR BUSHMAN.
ORIGIN OF THE NAME -- THEORIES RESPECTING THEIR ORIGIN -- THEIR
LANGUAGE AND ITS PECULIARITIES -- THE GESTURE-LANGUAGE -- SMALL SIZE
OF THE BOSJESMANS -- THEIR COMPLEXION AND GENERAL APPEARANCE -- A
STRANGE VISITOR -- THE BOSJESMAN’S PIPE AND MODE OF SMOKING -- SAID
TO HAVE NO NAMES, AND NO DISTINCTIONS OF RANK -- SOCIAL LIFE AMONG
THE BOSJESMANS -- MATRIMONY AND ITS TROUBLES -- INDIVIDUALITY OF THE
BOSJESMAN -- HIS INDIFFERENCE TO PAIN -- A CULPRIT AND HIS PUNISHMENT
-- DRESS OF BOTH SEXES -- THE BOSJESMAN FROM INFANCY TO AGE.
We now come to a singular race of human beings, inhabiting various
parts of Southern Africa, and being evidently allied to the Hottentots.
They are called Bosjesmans by the Dutch settlers. This word is
pronounced Bushes-man, and is popularly contracted into Bushman,--a
word which is, indeed, an exact translation of the Dutch title. As,
however, several groups of savages in different parts of the world are
called Bushmen, we will retain the original Dutch name.
Inspecting the precise relationship there are three distinct theories.
The first is, that they are the aboriginal inhabitants upon whom the
Hottentots have improved; the second is, that they are degenerate
offshoots of the Hottentot race; and the third is, that they form a
totally distinct group of mankind. On the whole, I am inclined rather
to accept the theory that they are a variety of the Hottentot race,
which they closely resemble in many particulars. The peculiar form of
the countenance, the high cheek-bones, the little contracted eyes,
and the long narrow chin, are all characteristics of the Hottentot
race. The color of the skin, too, is not black, but yellow, and even
paler than that of the Hottentot, and the women are notable for that
peculiarity of form which has already been noticed.
Their language much resembles that of the Hottentots in sound, the
characteristic “click” being one of its peculiarities. But, whereas
the Hottentots generally content themselves with one click in a word,
the Bosjesman tribes employ it with every syllable, and have besides a
kind of croaking sound produced in the throat, which is not used by the
Hottentots, and which they find the greatest difficulty in imitating.
But though their tongue resembles the language of the Hottentots in
sound, the words of the two languages are totally different, so that
a Hottentot is quite as much at a loss to understand a Bosjesman as
would be a European. Even the various tribes of Bosjesmans differ much
in their language, each tribe having a dialect of their own, and even
changing their dialect in the course of a few years. This is accounted
for by the fact that the hordes or families of Bosjesmans have but
little intercourse with each other, and remain as widely separated as
possible, so that they shall not interfere with the hunting-grounds of
their fellow-tribesmen.
In their conversation among each other also, they are continually
inventing new words. Intellectually, they are but children, and, like
children, the more voluble condescend to the weakness of those who
cannot talk as well as themselves, and accept their imperfect words as
integral parts of their language. So imperfect, indeed, is the language
of the Bosjesmans, that even those of the same horde often find a
difficulty in understanding each other without the use of gesture; and
at night, when a party of Bosjesmans are smoking, dancing, and talking,
they are obliged to keep up a fire so as to be able by its light to see
the explanatory gestures of their companions.
Like many other savage nations, they possess a gesture-language which
is universally understood, even where words are quite unintelligible,
and by means of this language a European can make himself understood
by them, even though he does not know a word of their spoken language.
When a Bosjesman is speaking, he uses a profusion of gestures,
animated, graphic, and so easily intelligible that a person who is
wholly ignorant of the language can readily follow his meaning. I have
heard a Bosjesman narrate the manner in which he hunted different
animals, and, although the precise words which he employed were
unknown to me, the whole process of the chase was rendered perfectly
intelligible. Perhaps some of my readers may remember that the late
Gordon Cumming was accompanied by a Bosjesman named Ruyter. This little
man survived the perils of the desert, he escaped from the claws of a
lion which dragged his companion from the blanket in which the two were
rolled, and lived for some years in England. He was an admirable actor,
and would sometimes condescend to display his wonderful powers. It is
scarcely possible to imagine anything more graphic than Ruyter’s acted
description of a lion stealing into the camp, and the consternation of
the different animals which found themselves in such close proximity
to their dreaded enemy. The part of each animal was enacted in turn
by Ruyter, whose best _rôles_ were those of the lion himself and a
tame baboon--the voices and action of both animals being imitated with
startling accuracy.
The Bosjesmans differ from the true Hottentots in point of size,
being so small as to deserve the name of a nation of pigmies, being,
on the average, very little above five feet in height, while some of
the women are seven or eight inches shorter. This does not apply to
the Kora Bosjesmans, who are about five feet four or five inches in
height. Still, small as they are, there is no proof either that they
have degenerated from the ancient stock, which is represented by the
true Hottentot, or that they represent the original stock, on which
the Hottentots have improved, and it is more likely that they simply
constitute a group of the Hottentot race.
It has been mentioned that their color is rather more yellow than dark.
This curious fairness of complexion in a South African race is even
more strongly marked than is the case among the Hottentots, although
in their native state it is scarcely so conspicuous. The fact is, the
Bosjesmans think fresh water far too valuable to be used for ablutions,
and, by way of a succedaneum for a bath, rub themselves with grease,
not removing the original layer, but adding a fresh one whenever they
make their toilets. Thus they attract the smoke of the fire over
which they love to crouch at night, and, when they are performing the
operation which they are pleased to consider as cooking, the smoke
settles on their bodies, and covers them with a sooty-black hue that
makes them appear nearly as dark as the Kaffirs. There is generally,
however, a tolerably clean spot under each eye, which is caused by the
flow of tears consequent on snuff taking. But when well washed, their
skins are wonderfully fair, and therefore the Bosjesmans who visit this
country, and who are obliged to wash themselves, give very little idea
of the appearance of these curious beings in their native state.
Of the ordinary appearance of the Bosjesman in his normal state, a
good description is given by Dr. Lichtenstein, in his well-known work
on Southern Africa:--“After some hours two Bosjesmans appeared, who
saluted us with their _T’abeh_, asked for tobacco, and, having received
it, seated themselves behind a bush, by a little fire, to revel at
their ease in the delights of smoking. I devoted a considerable time
to observing these men very accurately, and cannot forbear saying that
a Bosjesman, certainly in his mien and all his gestures, has more
resemblance to an ape than a man.
“One of our present guests, who appeared about fifty years of age, had
gray hair and a bristly beard; his forehead, nose, cheeks, and chin
were all smeared over with black grease, having only a white circle
round the eye, washed clean with tears occasioned by smoking. This man
had the true physiognomy of the small blue ape of Kaffraria. What gave
the more verity to such a comparison was the vivacity of his eyes,
and the flexibility of his eyebrows, which he worked up and down with
every change of countenance. Even his nostrils and the corners of his
mouth, even his very ears, moved involuntarily, expressing his hasty
transitions from eager desire to watchful distrust. There was not,
on the contrary, a single feature in his countenance that evinced a
consciousness of mental powers, or anything that denoted emotions of
the mind of a milder character than belongs to man in his mere animal
nature.
“When a piece of meat was given him, half rising, he stretched out a
distrustful arm, snatched it hastily, and stuck it immediately into
the fire, peering around with his little keen eyes, as if fearing lest
some one should take it away again. All this was done with such looks
and gestures, that any one must have been ready to swear that he had
taken the example of them entirely from an ape. He soon took the meat
from the embers, wiped it hastily upon his left arm, and tore out with
his teeth large half-raw bits, which I could see going entire down his
meagre throat. At length, when he came to the bones and sinew, as he
could not manage these with his teeth, he had recourse to a knife which
was hanging round his neck, and with this he cut off the piece which
he held in his teeth, close to the mouth, without touching his nose
or lips--a feat of dexterity which a person with a Celtic countenance
could not easily have performed. When the bone was picked clean, he
stuck it again into the fire, and, after beating it between two stones,
sucked out the marrow. This done, he immediately filled the emptied
bone with tobacco. I offered him a clay pipe, which he declined, and
taking the thick bone a long way into his mouth, he drew in the smoke
by long draughts, his eyes sparkling like those of a person who, with
more than usual pleasure, drinks a glass of costly wine. After three or
four draughts, he handed the bone to his countryman, who inhaled three
or four mouthfuls in like manner, and then stuck it, still burning,
into his pouch, to be reserved for future occasions.”
This very simple pipe is preferred by the Bosjesman to any other,
probably because he can take in a larger quantity of smoke at a single
inhalation than could be the case if he were to use the small-bored
pipe of civilization. Reeds, hollow sticks, and similar objects are
used for the same purpose. Sometimes the Bosjesman inhales the whole
of the smoke into his lungs, and takes draught after draught with
such eagerness, that he falls down in a state of insensibility, and
has to be restored to consciousness by being rolled on the ground,
and having water thrown over him. This is certainly an economical
mode of consuming the tobacco, as, in this manner, a single pipeful
will serve to intoxicate several smokers in succession. As is the
case with other savages, the Bosjesman has but little idea of using a
luxury in moderation. The chief value of tobacco is, in a Bosjesman’s
eyes, its intoxicating power, and he therefore smokes with the avowed
intention of being intoxicated as soon as possible, and with the least
expenditure of material.
It is stated by old travellers who have had much intercourse with the
Bosjesmans, that they have no names by which different individuals are
distinguished. This may possibly be the case, and, if so, it denotes
a depth of degradation which can scarcely be conceived. But as the
Bosjesmans are not without the average share of intellect which, in
their peculiar conditions, they could be expected to possess, it is
possible that the statement may be rather too sweeping. It is well
known that among many savage nations in different parts of the earth,
there is a great disinclination to allow the name to be known.
As has already been mentioned, the Kaffirs will not allow a stranger
to hear their true names, and, if asked for their names, will only
entrust him with their titles, but never with their true names. It is
therefore very probable that the Bosjesmans may be actuated by similar
motives, and pretend to have no names at all, rather than take the
trouble of inventing false ones. They have not the least objection to
take European names, mostly preferring those of Dutch parentage, such
as Ruyter, Kleinboy, Andries, Booy, &c.; and as they clearly comprehend
that those names are used in order to distinguish them from their
fellows, it seems scarcely possible to believe that they have not some
nomenclature among themselves.
Whatever may be the case with regard to their names, it is certain
that the Bosjesmans have no idea of distinctions in rank, differing,
however, from the natives which surround them. The Kaffir tribes are
remarkable for the elaborate code of etiquette which they possess,
and which could not exist unless social distinctions were definitely
marked. The Hottentots have their headmen, who possess supreme power in
the kraal, though they do not exhibit any external mark of dignity. But
the Bosjesman has not the least notion of rank, and affords the most
complete example of anarchic life that can be conceived. In the small
hordes of Bosjesmans who wander about the country, there is no chief,
and not even a headman. Each horde, as a general rule, consists of a
single family, unless members of other hordes may choose to leave their
own friends and join it. But the father of the family is not recognized
as its head, much less does he exercise any power. The leadership of
the kraal belongs to the strongest, and he only holds it until some one
stronger than himself dispossesses him.
It is the same with the social relations of life. Among the Kaffirs
and Hottentots--especially among the former--the women are jealously
watched, and infidelity to the marriage compact is severely punished.
This, however, is not the case with the Bosjesmans, who scarcely seem
to recognize any such compact, the marriage tie being dissoluble at the
will of the husband. Although the man can divorce his wife whenever
he chooses, the woman does not possess the same power--not because
either party has any regard to the marriage tie, but because he is the
stronger of the two, and would beat her if she tried to go away without
his permission. Even if a couple should be pleased with each other, and
do not wish to separate, they cannot be sure that they will be allowed
to remain together; for if a man who is stronger than the husband
chooses to take a fancy to the wife, he will take her away by force,
and keep her, unless some one still stronger than himself happens to
think that she will suit his taste. As to the woman herself, she is not
consulted on the subject, and is either given up or retained without
the least reference to her feelings. It is a curious fact, that in the
various dialects of the Bosjesmans, there are no words that express
the distinction between an unmarried girl or wife, one word being
indiscriminately used.
In this extraordinary social condition the Bosjesman seems to have
lived for centuries, and the earliest travellers in Southern Africa,
who wrote accounts of the inhabitants of that strange land, have given
descriptions which exactly tally with narratives which have been
published within the last few years.
The character of the true Bosjesman seems to have undergone no change
for many hundreds of years. Civilization has made no impression upon
him. The Kaffirs, the Dutch, and the English have in turn penetrated
into his country, and have driven him further into the wilderness, but
he has never submitted to either of these powerful foes, nor has he
condescended to borrow from them any of the arts of civilization. Both
Kaffirs and Hottentots have been in so far subjected to the inroads
of civilization that they have placed themselves under the protection
of the white colonists, and have learned from them to substitute the
blanket for the kaross, and the gun for the spear or arrow. They have
also acted as domestic servants to the white men, voluntarily hiring
themselves for pay, and performing their work with willingness. But the
Bosjesman has preserved his individuality, and while the Hottentots
have become an essentially subservient race, and the Kaffirs have
preferred vassalage to independence, he is still the wild man of
the desert, as free, as untamable, as he was a thousand years ago.
Kaffirs, Dutch, and English have taken young Bosjesmans into their
service. The two former have made them their slaves; the latter have
tried to educate them into paid servants. But they have been equally
unsuccessful, and the Bosjesman servant cannot, as the saying is, be
trusted further than he can be seen, and, by a wise master, not so far.
His wild nature is strong within him, and, unless closely watched, he
is apt to throw off all appearance of civilization, and return to the
privations and the freedom of his native state.
The principal use to which a Bosjesman servant is put is to serve the
office of “fore-louper,” _i. e._ the guide to the oxen. When a wagon
is harnessed with its twelve or fourteen oxen, the driver sits on the
box--which really is a box--and wields a most formidable whip, but
has no reins, his office being to urge, and not to guide. His own
department he fulfils with a zest all his own. His terrific whip, with
a handle like a salmon-rod, and a lash nearly as long as its line, can
reach the foremost oxen of the longest team, and, when wielded by an
experienced driver, can cut a deep gash in the animal’s hide, as if a
knife, and not a whip, had been used. A good driver can deliver his
stroke with equal certainty upon the furthest ox, or upon those that
are just beneath him, and so well are the oxen aware of this, that the
mere whistle of the plaited cord through the air, or the sharp crack of
its lash, will cause every ox in the team to bend itself to its work,
as if it felt the stinging blow across its back, and the hot blood
trickling down its sides.
But the driver will not condescend to guide the animals, that task
being considered the lowest to which a human being can be put, and
which is in consequence handed over to a Hottentot boy, or, preferably,
to a Bosjesman. The “fore-louper’s” business is to walk just in front
of the leading oxen, and to pick out the track which is most suitable
for the wheels. There is now before me a beautiful photograph of a
harnessed wagon, with the driver on his seat, and the fore-louper in
his place in front of the oxen. He is a very little man, about four
feet six inches in height, and, to judge from his face, may be of any
age from sixteen to sixty.
How the fore-louper will sometimes behave, if he thinks that his master
is not an experienced traveller, may be seen from the following account
by a traveller who has already been quoted: “My ‘leader’ (as the boy
is called who leads the two front oxen of the span), on my first wagon
journey, was a Bushman: he was about four feet high, and decidedly
the ugliest specimen of the human race I ever beheld, without being
deformed in body or limbs; the most prominent feature in his face was
the mouth, with its huge, thick, sensual lips. The nose could scarcely
be called a projection; at all events, it was far less distinguishable
in the outline of the side face than the mouth; it was an inverted (or
concave) Roman,--that is to say, the bridge formed a curve inward; the
nostrils were very wide and open, so that you seemed, by means of them,
to look a considerable distance into his head.
“With regard to the eyes, I am guilty of no exaggeration when I assert
that you could not see the eyeballs at all as you looked at his
profile, but only the hollows which contained them; it was like looking
at a mask when the eyes of the wearer are far removed from the orifices
cut for them in the pasteboard. The cheek-bones were immense, the
cheeks thin and hollow; the forehead was low and shelving--in fact, he
could scarcely be said to have a forehead at all. He was two or three
shades from being black, and he had even less hair on his head than his
countrymen generally; it was composed of little tight woolly knots,
with a considerable space of bare skin between each.
“So much for the young gentleman’s features. The expression was
diabolically bad, and his disposition corresponded to it. I firmly
believe that the little wretch would have been guilty of any villany,
or any cruelty, for the mere love of either. I found the only way
to keep him in the slightest control was to inspire him with bodily
fear--no easy task, seeing that his hide was so tough that your arms
would ache long before you produced any keen sense of pain by thrashing
him.
“On one occasion the wagon came to the brow of a hill, when it was
the duty of the leader to stop the oxen, and see that the wheel was
well locked. It may readily be imagined that a wagon which requires
twelve oxen to draw it on level ground could not be held back by _two_
oxen in its descent down a steep hill, unless with the wheel locked.
My interesting Bushman, however, whom I had not yet offended in any
manner, no sooner found himself at the top of the hill, than he let
go the oxen with a yell and ‘whoop,’ which set them off at a gallop
down the precipitous steep. The wagon flew from side to side of the
road, destined, apparently, to be smashed to atoms every moment,
together with myself, its luckless occupant. I was dashed about, almost
unconscious of what could be the cause, so suddenly had we started on
our mad career. Heaven only knows how I escaped destruction, but we
positively reached the bottom of the hill uninjured.
“The Bushman was by the wagon-side in an instant, and went to his place
at the oxen’s heads as coolly and unconcernedly as if he had just
performed part of his ordinary duties. The Hottentot driver, on the
contrary, came panting up, and looking aghast with horror at the fear
he had felt. I jumped out of the wagon, seized my young savage by the
collar of his jacket, and with a heavy sea-cowhide whip I belabored
him with all my strength, wherein, I trust, the reader will think me
justified, as the little wretch had made the most barefaced attempt
on my life. I almost thought my strength would be exhausted before I
could get a sign from the young gentleman that he felt my blows, but at
length he uttered a yell of pain, and I knew he had had enough. Next
day I dropped him at a village, and declined his further services.”
Missionaries have tried their best to convert the Bosjesman to
Christianity, and have met with as little success as those who have
endeavored to convert him to civilization. Indeed, the former almost
presupposes some amount of the latter, and, whatever may be done by
training up a series of children, nothing can be done with those who
have once tasted of the wild ways of desert life.
The dress of the Bosjesman bears some resemblance to that of the
Hottentot, but is, if possible, even more simple. Like the Hottentot,
the Bosjesman likes to cover his head, and generally wears a headdress
made of skin. Sometimes he pulls out the scanty tufts of hair to their
fullest extent--an inch at the most--and plasters them with grease
until they project stiffly from the head. Sometimes also he shaves
a considerable portion of the head, and rubs red clay and grease so
thickly into the remaining hair that it becomes a sort of felt cap. To
this odd headdress he suspends all kinds of small ornaments, such as
beads, fragments of ostrich shells, bright bits of metal, and other
objects.
When a Bosjesman kills a bird, he likes to cut off the head, and fasten
that also to his hair-cap in such a manner that the beak projects over
his forehead. Mr. Baines mentions two Bosjesmans, one of whom wore the
head of a secretary bird, and the other that of a crow. One of these
little men seemed to be rather a dandy in his costume, as he also wore
a number of white feathers, cut short, and stuck in his hair, where
they radiated like so many curl-papers.
As for dress, as we understand the word, all that the Bosjesman cares
for is a kind of small triangular apron, the broad end of which is
suspended to the belt in front, and the narrow end passed between the
legs and tucked into the belt behind. Besides this apron, if it may be
so called, the Bosjesman has generally a kaross, or mantle, made from
the skin of some animal. This kaross is generally large enough to hang
to nearly the feet when the wearer is standing upright, and its chief
use is as an extemporized bed. Like the Hottentot, the Bosjesman rolls
himself up in his kaross when he sleeps, gathering himself together
into a very small compass, and thus covering himself completely with a
mantle which would be quite inadequate to shelter a European of equal
size.
As to the women, their dress very much resembles that of the Hottentot.
They wear a piece of skin wrapped round their heads, and the usual
apron, made of leather cut into narrow thongs. They also have the
kaross, which is almost exactly like that of the men. These are the
necessities of dress, but the female sex among this curious race are
equally fond of finery with their more civilized sisters. Having but
little scope for ornament in the apron and kaross, they place the
greater part of their decoration on the head, and ornament their hair
and countenances in the most extraordinary way. Water, as has been
already observed, never touches their faces, which are highly polished
with grease, so that they shine in the sunbeams with a lustre that is
literally dazzling. To their hair they suspend various small ornaments,
like those which have been mentioned as forming part of the men’s
dress. Among these ornaments, the money-cowrie is often seen, and is
much valued, because this shell does not belong to the coast, but is
used as money, and is thus passed over a very great portion of Southern
Africa as a sort of currency.
[Illustration: (1.) GRAPPLE PLANT. (See page 214.)]
[Illustration: (2.) WOMAN AND CHILD. (See page 249.)]
[Illustration: (3.) HOTTENTOTS ASLEEP. (See page 233.)]
[Illustration: (4.) BOSJESMAN QUIVER AND ARROWS. (See pages 257, 261.)]
[Illustration: (5.) FRONTLET. (See pages 225, 249.)]
A curious and very inconvenient ornament is mentioned by Burchell, and
the reader will see that it bears some resemblance to the frontlet
which is drawn on page 247. The girl who was wearing it had evidently
a great idea of her own attractions, and indeed, according to the
writer, she had some grounds for vanity. She had increased the power of
her charms by rubbing her whole dress and person thickly with grease,
while her arms and legs were so loaded with leathern rings, that she
evidently had an admirer who was a successful hunter, as in no other
way could she obtain these coveted decorations. Her hair was clotted
with red ochre, and glittering with sibilo, while her whole person was
perfumed with buchu.
Her chief ornament, however, was a frontlet composed of three oval
pieces of ivory, about as large as sparrow’s eggs, which were suspended
from her head in such a way that one fell on her nose, and the other
two on her cheeks. As she spoke, she coquettishly moved her head from
side to side, so as to make these glittering ornaments swing about in
a manner which she considered to be very fascinating. However, as the
writer quaintly observes, “her vanity and affectation, great as they
were, did not, as one may sometimes observe in both sexes in other
countries, elate her, or produce any alteration in the tone of her
voice, for the astonishing quantity of meat which she swallowed down,
and the readiness with which she called out to her attendants for more,
showed her to be resolved that no squeamishness should interfere on
this occasion.”
As is the case with the Hottentots, the Bosjesman female is slightly
and delicately formed while she is young, and for a few years is almost
a model of symmetry. But the season of beauty is very short, and in
a few years after attaining womanhood the features are contracted,
sharpened, and wrinkled, while the limbs look like sticks more than
arms and legs of a human being. The illustration No. 2 on page 247,
which represents a Bosjesman woman with her child, will give a good
idea of the appearance which these people present. Even naturally,
the bloom of youth would fade quickly, but the decay of youth is
accelerated by constant hardships, uncertain supply of food, and a
total want of personal cleanliness. The only relic of beauty that
remains is the hand, which is marvellously small and delicate, and
might be envied by the most refined lady in civilized countries, and
which never becomes coarse or disfigured by hard work.
The children of the Bosjesmans are quite as repulsive in aspect as
their elders, though in a different manner, being as stupendously thick
in the body as their elders are shapelessly thin. Their little eyes,
continually kept nearly closed, in order to exclude the sandflies,
look as if they had retreated into the head, so completely are they
hidden by the projecting cheek-bones, and the fat that surrounds them.
Their heads are preternaturally ugly, the skull projecting exceedingly
behind, and the short woolly hair growing so low down on the forehead
that they look as if they were afflicted with hydrocephalus. In fact,
they scarcely seem to be human infants at all, and are absolutely
repulsive, instead of being winning or attractive. They soon quit this
stage of formation, and become thin-limbed and pot-bellied, with a
prodigious fall in the back, which is, in fact, a necessary consequence
of the other deformity.
It is astonishing how soon the little things learn to lead an
independent life. At a few months of age they crawl on the sand like
yellow toads of a larger size than usual, and by the time that they
are a year old they run about freely, with full use of arms as well as
legs. Even before they have attained this age, they have learned to
search for water bulbs which lie hidden under the sand, and to scrape
them up with their hands and a short stick. From eight to fourteen
seems to be the age at which these people are most attractive. They
have lost the thick shapelessness of infancy, the ungainliness of
childhood, and have attained the roundness of youth, without having
sunk into the repulsive attributes of age. At sixteen or seventeen they
begin to show marks of age, and from that time to the end of their life
seem to become more and more repulsive. At the age when our youths
begin to assume the attributes of manhood, and to exhibit finely-knit
forms and well-developed muscles, the Bosjesman is beginning to show
indications of senility. Furrows appear on his brow, his body becomes
covered with wrinkles, and his abdomen falls loosely in successive
folds. This singularly repulsive development is partly caused by the
nature of the food which he eats, and of the irregularity with which he
is supplied. He is always either hungry, or gorged with food, and the
natural consequence of such a mode of life is the unsightly formation
which has been mentioned. As the Bosjesman advances in years, the
wrinkles on his body increase in number and depth, and at last his
whole body is so covered with hanging folds of loose skin, that it is
almost impossible for a stranger to know whether he is looking at a man
or a woman.
It has already been mentioned that the eyes of the Bosjesman are small,
deeply sunken in the head, and kept so tightly closed that they are
scarcely perceptible. Yet the sight of the Bosjesman is absolutely
marvellous in its penetration and precision. He needs no telescope, for
his unaided vision is quite as effective as any ordinary telescope, and
he has been known to decide upon the precise nature of objects which a
European could not identify, even with the assistance of his glass.
This power of eyesight is equalled by the delicacy of two other senses,
those of hearing and smell. The Bosjesman’s ear catches the slightest
sound, and his mind is instantly ready to take cognizance of it. He
understands the sound of the winds as they blow over the land, the cry
of birds, the rustling of leaves, the hum of insects, and draws his
own conclusions from them. His wide, flattened nostrils are equally
sensitive to odors, and in some cases a Bosjesman trusts as much to his
nose as to his eyes.
Yet these senses, delicate as they may be, are only partially
developed. The sense of smell, for example, which is so sensitive to
odors which a civilized nose could not perceive, is callous to the
abominable emanations from his own body and those of his comrades,
neither are the olfactory nerves blunted by any amount of pungent
snuff. The sense of taste seems almost to be in abeyance, for the
Bosjesman will eat with equal relish meat which has been just killed,
and which is tough, stringy, and juiceless, or that which has been
killed for several days, and is in a tolerably advanced state of
putrefaction. Weather seems to have little effect on him, and the
sense of pain seems nearly as blunt as it is in the lower animals, a
Bosjesman caring nothing for injuries which would at once prostrate any
ordinary European.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE BOSJESMAN--_Continued_.
HOMES OF THE BOSJESMANS -- THE ROCK-CAVE -- THE BUSH-HOUSE --
TEMPORARY HABITATIONS -- FOOD, AND MODE OF OBTAINING IT -- HUNTING
-- CHASE OF THE OSTRICH -- A SINGULAR STRATAGEM -- OSTRICH FEATHERS,
AND METHOD OF PACKING THEM -- USES OF THE OSTRICH EGG-SHELL --
CUNNING ROBBERS -- CATTLE-STEALING -- WARFARE -- PETTY SKIRMISHING
-- BOSJESMANS AT BAY -- SWIMMING POWERS OF THE BOSJESMANS -- THE
“WOODEN HORSE” -- BENEVOLENT CONDUCT OF BOSJESMANS -- THE WEAPONS OF
THE BOSJESMANS -- THE ARROW, AND ITS CONSTRUCTION -- HOW ARROWS ARE
CARRIED -- POISON WITH WHICH THE ARROW IS COVERED -- VARIOUS METHODS
OF MAKING POISON -- IRRITATING THE SERPENT -- THE N’GWA, K’AA, OR
POISON GRUB, AND ITS TERRIBLE EFFECTS -- THE GRUB IN ITS DIFFERENT
STAGES -- ANTIDOTE -- POISONED WATER -- UNEXPECTED CONDUCT OF THE
BOSJESMANS -- THE QUIVER, SPEAR, AND KNIFE.
Having now glanced at the general appearance of the Bosjesman, we will
rapidly review the course of his ordinary life.
Of houses or homes he is nearly independent. A rock cavern is a
favorite house with the Bosjesman, who finds all the shelter he needs,
without being obliged to exert any labor in preparing it. But there are
many parts of the country over which he roams, in which there are no
rocks, and consequently no caves. In such cases, the Bosjesman imitates
the hare, and makes a “form” in which he conceals himself. He looks out
for a suitable bush, creeps into it, and bends the boughs down so as to
form a tent-like covering. The mimosa trees are favorite resorts with
the Bosjesman, and it has been well remarked, that after a bush has
been much used, and the young twigs begin to shoot upward, the whole
bush bears a great resemblance to a huge bird’s-nest. The resemblance
is increased by the habit of the Bosjesman of lining these primitive
houses with hay, dried leaves, wool, and other soft materials. The
Tarchonanthus forms the usual resting-place of these wild men, its
pliant branches being easily bent into the required shape.
These curious dwellings are not only used as houses, but are employed
as lurking-places, where the Bosjesman can lie concealed, and whence
he launches his tiny but deadly arrows at the animals that may pass
near the treacherous bush. It is in consequence of this simple mode of
making houses that the name of Bosjesman, or Bushman, has been given
to this group of South African savages. This, of course, is the Dutch
title; their name, as given by themselves, is Saqua.
In places where neither rocks nor bushes are to be found, these easily
contented people are at no loss for a habitation, but make one by the
simple process of scratching a hole in the ground, and throwing up the
excavated earth to windward. Sometimes they become rather luxurious,
and make a further shelter by fixing a few sticks in the ground, and
throwing over them a mat or a piece of hide, which will answer as a
screen against the wind. In this hole a wonderful number of Bosjesmans
will contrive to stow themselves, rolling their karosses round their
bodies in the peculiar manner which has already been mentioned. The
slight screen forms their only protection against the wind--the kaross
their sole defence against the rain. When a horde of Bosjesmans
has settled for a time in a spot which promises good hunting, they
generally make tent-like houses by fixing flexible sticks in the
ground, bending them so as to force them to assume a cage-like form,
and then covering them with simple mats made of reeds. These huts are
almost exactly like the primitive tents in which the gypsies of England
invariably live, and which they prefer to the most sumptuous chamber
that wealth, luxury, and art can provide.
So much for his houses. As to his food, the Bosjesman finds no
difficulty in supplying himself with all that he needs. His wants are
indeed few, for there is scarcely anything which a human being can eat
without being poisoned, that the Bosjesman does not use for food. He
has not the least prejudice against any kind of edible substance, and,
provided that it is capable of affording nourishment, he asks nothing
more. His luxuries are comprised in two words--tobacco and brandy; but
food is a necessary of life, and is not looked upon in any other light.
There is not a beast, and I believe not a bird, that a Bosjesman will
not eat. Snakes and other reptiles are common articles of diet, and
insects are largely used as food by this people. Locusts and white ants
are the favorite insects, but the Bosjesman is in no wise fastidious,
and will eat almost any insect that he can catch. Roots, too, form
a large portion of the Bosjesman’s diet, and he can discover the
water-root without the assistance of a baboon. Thus it happens that
the Bosjesman can live where other men would perish, and to him the
wild desert is a congenial home. All that he needs is plenty of space,
because he never cultivates the ground, nor breeds sheep or cattle,
trusting entirely for his food to the casual productions of the earth,
whether they be animal or vegetable.
It has already been mentioned that the Bosjesman obtains his meat by
hunting. Though one of the best hunters in the world, the Bosjesman,
like the Hottentot, to whom he is nearly related, has no love of the
chase, or, indeed, for any kind of exertion, and would not take the
trouble to pursue the various animals on which he lives, if he could
obtain their flesh without the trouble of hunting them. Yet, when
he has fairly started on the chase, there is no man more doggedly
persevering; and even the Esquimaux seal-hunter, who will sit for
forty-eight hours with harpoon in hand, cannot surpass him in endurance.
Small as he is, he will match himself against the largest and the
fiercest animals of South Africa, and proceeds with perfect equanimity
and certainty of success to the chase of the elephant, the rhinoceros,
the lion, and the leopard. The former animals, whose skins are too
tough to be pierced with his feeble weapons, he entraps by sundry
ingenious devices, while the latter fall victims to the deadly
poison with which his arrows are imbued. The skill of the Bosjesman
is severely tested in the chase of the ostrich, a bird which the
swiftest horse can barely overtake, and is so wary as well as swift,
that a well-mounted hunter, armed with the best rifle, thinks himself
fortunate when he can kill one.
The little Bosjesman has two modes of killing these birds. If he
happens to find one of their enormous nests while the parent birds are
away, he approaches it very cautiously, lest his track should be seen
by the ever-watchful ostrich, and buries himself in the sand among the
eggs. The reader will doubtless remember that several ostriches deposit
their eggs in one nest, and that the nest in question is simply scraped
in the sand, and is of enormous dimensions. Here the tiny hunter will
lie patiently until the sun has gone down, when he knows that the
parent birds will return to the nest. As they approach in the distance,
he carefully fits a poisoned arrow to his bow, and directs its point
toward the advancing ostriches. As soon as they come within range, he
picks out the bird which has the plumpest form and the most luxuriant
plumage, and with a single arrow seals its fate.
The chief drawback to this mode of hunting is, that the very act of
discharging the arrow reveals the form of the hunter, and frightens
the other birds so much that a second shot is scarcely to be obtained,
and the Bosjesman is forced to content himself with one dead bird and
the whole of the eggs. Fortunately, he is quite indifferent as to the
quality of the eggs. He does not very much care if any of them should
be addled, and will eat with perfect composure an egg which would alarm
an European at six paces’ distance. Neither does he object to the eggs
if they should be considerably advanced in hatching, and, if anything,
rather fancies himself fortunate in procuring a young and tender bird
without the trouble of chasing and catching it. Then the egg-shells,
when the contents are removed, are most valuable for many purposes, and
especially for the conveyance of water. For this latter purpose they
are simply invaluable. The Bosjesmans always contrive to have a supply
of water, but no one except themselves has the least notion where it is
stored. If a Bosjesman kraal is attacked, and the captives interrogated
as to the spot where the supply of water has been stored, they never
betray the precious secret, but always pretend that they have none, and
that they are on the point of dying with thirst. Yet, at some quiet
hour of the night, a little yellow woman is tolerably sure to creep to
their sides and give them a plentiful draught of water, while their
captors are trying to lull their thirst by sleep. How they utilize
their egg-shells of water, the reader will see in another place.
The eyes of the ostrich are keen enough, but those of the Bosjesman
are keener, and if the small hunter, perched on his rocky observatory,
happens to catch a glimpse of a number of ostriches in the far
distance, he makes up his mind that in a few hours several of those
birds will have fallen before the tiny bow and the envenomed arrow
which it projects. He immediately creeps back to his apology for a hut,
and there finds a complete hunter’s suit which he has prepared in
readiness for such an occasion. It consists of the skin of an ostrich,
without the legs, and having a stick passed up the neck. The skin
of the body is stretched over a kind of saddle, which the maker has
adapted to his own shoulders.
He first rubs his yellow legs with white chalk, and then fixes the
decoy skin on his back, taking care to do it in such a manner, that,
although it is quite firm as long as it has to be worn, it can be
thrown off in a moment. The reason for this precaution will be seen
presently. He then takes his bow and arrows and sets off in pursuit
of the ostriches, using all possible pains to approach them in such a
direction that the wind may blow from them to him. Were he to neglect
this precaution, the watchful birds would soon detect him by the scent,
and dash away where he could not possibly follow them.
As soon as the ostriches see a strange bird approaching, they cease
from feeding, gather together, and gaze suspiciously at their supposed
companion. Were the disguised hunter to approach at once, the birds
would take the alarm, so he runs about here and there, lowering the
head to the ground, as if in the act of feeding, but always contriving
to decrease the distance between himself and the birds. At last he
manages to come within range, and when he has crept tolerably close
to the selected victim, he suddenly allows the head of the decoy-skin
to fall to the ground, snatches up an arrow, speeds it on its deadly
mission, and instantly raises the head again.
The stricken bird dashes off in a fright on receiving the wound, and
all its companions run with it, followed by the disguised Bosjesman.
Presently the wounded bird begins to slacken its speed, staggers,
and falls to the ground, thus allowing the hunter to come up to the
ostriches as they are gazing on their fallen companion, and permitting
him to secure another victim. Generally, a skilful hunter will secure
four out of five ostriches by this method of hunting, but it sometimes
happens that the birds discover that there is something wrong, and
make an attack on the apparent stranger. An assault from so powerful a
bird is no trifle, as a blow from its leg is enough to break the limb
of a powerful man, much more of so small and feeble a personage as a
Bosjesman hunter. Then comes the value of the precaution which has just
been mentioned. As soon as he finds the fraud discovered, the hunter
runs round on the windward side of the ostriches, so as to give them
his scent. They instantly take the alarm, and just in that moment when
they pause in their contemplated attack, and meditate immediate flight,
the Bosjesman flings off the now useless skin, seizes his weapons, and
showers his arrows with marvellous rapidity among the frightened birds.
In this way are procured a very large proportion of the ostrich
feathers which are sent to the European market, and the lady who
admires the exquisite contour and beautiful proportions of a good
ostrich plume has seldom any idea that it was procured by a little
yellow man disguised in an ostrich skin, with bow and arrows in his
hand, and his legs rubbed with chalk.
After he has plucked the feathers, he has a very ingenious mode of
preserving them from injury. He takes hollow reeds, not thicker than
an ordinary drawing pencil, and pushes the feathers into them as far
as they will go. He then taps the end of the reeds against the ground,
and, by degrees, the feather works its own way into the protecting
tube. In this tube the feathers are carried about, and it is evident
that a considerable number of them can be packed so as to make an easy
load for a man.
When they kill an ostrich, they prepare from it a substance of a rather
remarkable character. Before the bird is dead, they cut its throat,
and then tie a ligature firmly over the wound, so as to prevent any
blood from escaping. The wretched bird thus bleeds inwardly, and the
flow of blood is promoted by pressing it and rolling it from side to
side. Large quantities of mixed blood and fat are thus collected in the
distensible crop, and, when the bird happens to be in particularly good
condition, nearly twenty pounds of this substance are furnished by a
single ostrich. The natives value this strange mixture very highly, and
think that it is useful in a medicinal point of view.
The shell of the ostrich egg is nearly as valuable to the Bosjesman as
its contents, and in some cases is still more highly valued. Its chief
use is as a water vessel, for which it is admirably adapted. The women
have the task of filling these shells; a task which is often a very
laborious one when the water is scanty.
In common with many of the kindred tribes, they have a curious method
of obtaining water when there is apparently nothing but mud to be
found. They take a long reed, and tie round one end of it a quantity of
dried grass. This they push as deeply as they conveniently can into the
muddy soil, and allow it to remain there until the water has penetrated
through the primitive filter, and has risen in the tube. They then
apply their lips to the tube, and draw into their mouths as much water
as they can contain, and then discharge it into an empty egg-shell by
means of another reed; or, if they do not possess a second reed, a
slight stick will answer the purpose if managed carefully. When filled,
the small aperture that has been left in each egg is carefully closed
by a tuft of grass very tightly forced into it, and the women have to
undertake the labor of carrying their heavy load homeward. There is one
mode of using these egg-shells which is worthy of mention.
The Bosjesmans are singularly ingenious in acting as spies. They will
travel to great distances in order to find out if there is anything
to be stolen, and they have a method of communicating with each other
by means of the smoke of a fire that constitutes a very perfect
telegraph. The Australian savage has a similar system, and it is really
remarkable that two races of men, who are certainly among the lowest
examples of humanity, should possess an accomplishment which implies no
small amount of mental capability. Property to be worth stealing by a
Bosjesman must mean something which can be eaten, and almost invariably
takes the shape of cattle. Thus, to steal cattle is perhaps not so
difficult a business, but to transport them over a wide desert is
anything but easy, and could not be accomplished, even by a Bosjesman,
without the exercise of much forethought.
In the first place, the Bosjesman is very careful of the direction in
which he makes his raids, and will never steal cattle in places whence
he is likely to be followed by the aggrieved owners. He prefers to
carry off animals that are separated from his own district by a dry
and thirsty desert, over which horses cannot pass, and which will tire
out any pursuers on foot, because they cannot carry with them enough
water for the journey. When his plans are laid, and his line of march
settled, he sends the women along it, with orders to bury ostrich
egg-shells full of water at stated distances, the locality of each
being signified by certain marks which none but himself can read. As
soon as this precaution is taken, he starts off at his best pace, and,
being wonderfully tolerant of thirst, he and his companions reach their
destination without making any very great diminution in the stock of
water. They then conceal themselves until nightfall, their raids never
taking place in the daytime.
In the dead of night they slink into the cattle pen, silently killing
the watchman, if one should be on guard, and select the best animals,
which they drive off. The whole of the remainder they either kill or
maim, the latter being the usual plan, as it saves their arrows. But,
if they should be interrupted in their proceedings, their raid is not
the less fatal, for, even in the hurry of flight, they will discharge
a poisoned arrow into every animal, so that not one is left. (See the
engraving No. 2 on page 237.)
We will suppose, however, that their plans are successful, and that
they have got fairly off with their plunder. They know that they cannot
conceal the tracks of the cattle, and do not attempt to do so, but push
on as fast as the animals can be urged, so as to get a long start of
their pursuers. When they are fairly on the track, some of their number
go in advance to the first station, dig up the water vessels, and wait
the arrival of the remainder. The cattle are supplied with as much
water as can be spared for them, in order to give them strength and
willingness for the journey; the empty vessels are then tied on their
backs, and they are again driven forward. In this manner they pass on
from station to station until they arrive at their destination. Should,
however, the pursuers come up with them, they abandon the cattle at
once; invariably leaving a poisoned arrow in each by way of a parting
gift, and take to flight with such rapidity, that the pursuers know
that it is useless to follow them.
The needless destruction which they work among the cattle, which to a
Hottentot or a Kaffir are almost the breath of life, has exasperated
both these people to such a degree that they will lay aside for a time
their differences, and unite in attacking the Bosjesman, who is equally
hated by both. This, however, they do with every precaution, knowing
full well the dangerous character of the enemies against whom they
are about to advance, and not attempting any expedition unless their
numbers are very strong indeed.
Of systematic warfare the Bosjesmans know nothing, although they are
perhaps the most dangerous enemies that a man can have, his first
knowledge of their presence being the clang of the bow, and the sharp
whirring sound of the arrow. Sometimes a horde of Bosjesmans will take
offence at some Hottentot or Kaffir tribe, and will keep up a desultory
sort of skirmish for years, during which time the foe knows not what a
quiet night means.
The Bosjesmans dare not attack their enemies in open day, neither
will they venture to match themselves in fair warfare against any
considerable number of antagonists. But not a man dares to stray
from the protection of the huts, unless accompanied by armed
comrades, knowing that the cunning enemies are always lurking in the
neighborhood, and that a stone, or bush, or tree, will afford cover
to a Bosjesman. These tiny but formidable warriors will even conceal
themselves in the sand, if they fancy that stragglers may pass in that
direction, and the puff-adder itself is not more invisible, nor its
fangs more deadly, than the lurking Bosjesman. On the bare cliffs they
can conceal themselves with marvellous address, their yellow skins
being so like the color of the rocks that they are scarcely visible,
even when there is no cover. Moreover, they have a strange way of
huddling themselves up in a bundle, so as to look like conical heaps of
leaves and sticks, without a semblance of humanity about them.
Open resistance they seldom offer, generally scattering and escaping
in all directions if a direct charge is made at them, even if they
should be assailed by one solitary enemy armed only with a stick. But
they will hang about the outskirts of the hostile tribe for months
together, never gathering themselves into a single band which can be
assaulted and conquered, but separating themselves into little parties
of two or three, against whom it would be absurd for the enemy to
advance in force, which cannot be conquered by equal numbers, and
yet which are too formidable to be left unmolested. The trouble and
annoyance which a few Bosjesmans can inflict upon a large body of
enemies is almost incredible. The warriors are forced to be always on
the watch, and never venture singly without their camp, while the women
and children have such a dread of the Bosjesmans, that the very mention
of the name throws them into paroxysms of terror. The difficulty of
attacking these pertinacious enemies is very much increased by the
nomad character of the Bosjesmans. The Hottentot tribes can move a
village in half a day, but the Bosjesmans, who can exist without
fixed habitations of any kind, and whose most elaborate houses are
far simpler than the worst specimens of Hottentot architecture, can
remove themselves and their habitations whenever they choose; and,
if necessary, can abolish their rude houses altogether, so as not to
afford the least sign of their residence.
Sometimes, but very rarely, the Kaffirs, exasperated by repeated
losses at the hands of the Bosjesmans, have determined to trace the
delinquents to their home, and to extirpate the entire community. The
expedition is one which is fraught with special danger, as there is
no weapon which a Kaffir dreads more than the poisoned arrow of the
Bosjesman. In such cases the overwhelming numbers of the assailants and
the absolute necessity of the task which they have set themselves, are
sure to lead to ultimate success, and neither men nor women are spared.
The very young children are sometimes carried off and made to act as
slaves, but, as a general rule, the Kaffirs look upon the Bosjesmans
much as if they were a set of venomous serpents, and kill them all with
as little compunction as they would feel in destroying a family of
cobras or puff-adders.
It has been mentioned that the Bosjesmans will seldom offer any
resistance in open fight. Sometimes, however, they will do so, but
only in case of being driven to bay, preferring usually to lie in
wait, and in the dead of night to steal upon their foes, send a few
poisoned arrows among them, and steal away under cover of the darkness.
Yet when flight is useless, and they are fairly at bay, they accept
the position, and become as terrible foes as can be met; losing all
sense of fear, and fighting with desperate courage. A small band of
them has often been known to fight a large party of enemies, and to
continue their struggles until every man has been killed. On one such
occasion, all had been killed except one man, who had ensconced himself
so closely behind a stone that his enemies could not manage to inflict
a mortal wound. With his bow he drew toward him the spent arrows of his
fallen kinsmen, and, though exhausted by loss of blood from many wounds
on his limbs, he continued to hurl the arrows at his foes, accompanying
each with some abusive epithet. It was not until many of his enemies
had fallen by his hand, that he exposed himself to a mortal blow.
It is a curious custom of the Bosjesman, who likes to have his arrows
ready to hand, to carry them in his headdress, just as an old-fashioned
clerk carries his pen behind his ear. Generally he keeps them in his
quiver with their points reversed, but, when he is actively engaged
in fighting, he takes them out, turns the points with their poisoned
ends outward, and arranges them at each side of his head, so that they
project like a couple of skeleton fans. They give a most peculiar look
to the features, and are as sure an indication of danger as the spread
hood of the cobra, or the menacing “whirr” of the rattlesnake. He makes
great use of them in the war of words, which in Southern Africa seems
invariably to accompany the war of weapons, and moves them just as
a horse moves his ears. With one movement of the head he sends them
all forward like two horns, and with another he shakes them open in a
fan-like form, accompanying each gesture with rapid frowns like those
of an angry baboon, and with a torrent of words that are eloquent
enough to those who understand them.
He does not place all his arrows in his headdress, but keeps a few at
hand in the quiver. These he uses when he has time for a deliberate
aim. But, if closely pressed, he snatches arrow after arrow out of his
headdress, fits them to the string, and shoots them with a rapidity
that seems almost incredible. I have seen a Bosjesman send three
successive arrows into a mark, and do it so quickly that the three were
discharged in less than two seconds. Indeed, the three sounds followed
one another as rapidly as three blows could have been struck with a
stick.
Traversing the country unceasingly, the Bosjesman would not be fit
for his ordinary life if he could be stopped by such an obstacle
as a river; and it is accordingly found that they can all swim. As
the rivers are often swift and strong, swimming across them in a
straight line would be impossible but for an invention which is called
“Houtepaard,” or wooden horse. This is nothing more than a piece of
wood six or seven feet in length, with a peg driven into one end. When
the swimmer crosses a stream, he places this peg against his right
shoulder so that the wood is under his body, and helps to support it.
How this machine works may be seen from the following anecdote by Dr.
Lichtenstein, which not only illustrates the point in question, but
presents the Bosjesmans in a more amiable light than we are generally
accustomed to view them.
“A hippopotamus had been killed, and its body lashed to the bank with
leathern ropes. The stream, however, after the fashion of African
streams, had risen suddenly, and the current swept downward with such
force, that it tore asunder the ropes in question, and carried off the
huge carcass. Some Bosjesmans went along the bank to discover the lost
animal, and at last found it on the other bank, and having crossed the
river, carrying with them the ends of some stout ropes, they tried
unsuccessfully to tow the dead animal to the other side. Some other
means of accomplishing the proposed end were now to be devised, and
many were suggested, but none found practicable. The hope of retrieving
the prize, however, induced a young colonist to attempt swimming over;
but, on account of the vast force of the stream, he was constrained to
return ere he had reached a fourth part of the way. In the mean time,
the two Bosjesmans who had attained the other side of the water, having
made a large fire, cut a quantity of fat off the monster’s back, which
they baked and ate most voraciously.
“This sight tempted five more of the Bosjesmans to make a new essay.
Each took a light flat piece of wood, which was fastened to the right
shoulder, and under the arm; when in the water the point was placed
directly across the stream, so that the great force of water must come
upon that, while the swimmer, with the left arm and the feet, struggled
against the stream, in the same manner as a ship with spread sails,
when, according to the sailor’s language, it sails before the wind.
They arrived quicker than the first, and almost without any effort,
directly to the opposite point, and immediately applied all their
strength, though in vain, to loosening the monster from the rock on
which it hung.
“In the mean time, a freed slave, belonging to the Governor’s train,
an eager, spirited young fellow, and a very expert swimmer, had the
boldness to attempt following the savages without any artificial aid,
and got, though slowly, very successfully, about half-way over. Here,
however, his strength failed him; he was carried away and sunk, but
appeared again above the water, struggling with his little remaining
powers to reach the shore. All efforts were in vain; he was forced to
abandon himself to the stream; but luckily, at a turn in the river,
which soon presented itself, he was carried to the land half dead.
“The Bosjesmans, when they saw his situation, quitted their fire, and,
hastening to his assistance, arrived at the spot just as he crawled
on shore, exhausted with fatigue, and stiffened with cold. It was a
truly affecting sight to behold the exertions made by the savages to
recover him. They threw their skins over him, dried him, and rubbed
him with their hands, and, when he began somewhat to revive, carried
him to the fire and laid him down by it. They then made him a bed with
their skins, and put more wood on the fire, that he might be thoroughly
warmed, rubbing his benumbed limbs over with the heated fat of the
river-horse. But evening was now coming on, and, in order to wait for
the entire restoration of the unfortunate adventurer, it was necessary
for the whole party to resolve on passing the night where they were.
Some of the Bosjesmans on this side exerted themselves to carry the
poor man’s clothes over to him, that he might not be prevented by the
cold from sleeping, and recovering strength for his return.
“Early the next morning the Bosjesmans were seen conducting their
_protégé_ along the side of the stream, to seek out some more
convenient spot for attempting to cross it. They soon arrived at one
where there was a small island in the river, which would of course
much diminish the fatigue of crossing; a quantity of wood was then
fastened together, on which he was laid, and thus the voyage commenced.
The young man, grown timid with the danger from which he had escaped,
could not encounter the water again without great apprehensions; he
with the whole party, however, arrived very safely and tolerably quick
at the island, whence, with the assistance of his two friends, he
commenced the second and most toilsome part of the undertaking. Two of
the Bosjesmans kept on each side of the bundle of wood, while the young
man himself exerted all his remaining powers to push on his float.
When they reached a bank in the river, on which they were partially
aground, having water only up to the middle, he was obliged to stop and
rest awhile; but by this time he was so completely chilled, and his
limbs were so benumbed with the cold, that it seemed almost impossible
for him to proceed. In vain did his comrades, who looked anxiously on
to see the termination of the adventure, call to him to take courage,
to make, without delay, yet one more effort; he, as well as an old
Bosjesman, the best swimmer of the set, seemed totally to have lost all
presence of mind.
“At this critical moment, two of the Bosjesmans who had remained
on our side of the water were induced, after some persuasion, to
undertake the rescue of these unfortunate adventurers. A large bundle
of wood was fastened together with the utmost despatch; on the end
of this they laid themselves, and to the middle was fastened a cord;
this was held by those on shore, so that it might not fall into the
water and incommode them in swimming. It was astonishing to see with
what promptitude they steered directly to the right spot, and came,
notwithstanding the rapidity of the stream, to the unfortunate objects
they sought. The latter had so far lost all coolness and presence of
mind, that they had not the sense immediately to lay hold of the cord,
and their deliverers were in the utmost danger of being carried away
the next moment by the stream. At this critical point, the third, who
was standing on the bank, seized the only means remaining to save
his companions. He pushed them before him into the deep water, and
compelled them once more, in conjunction with him, to put forth all
their strength, while the other two struggled with their utmost might
against the stream. In this manner he at length succeeded in making
them catch hold of the rope, by means of which all five were ultimately
dragged in safety to the shore.”
We will now proceed to the weapons with which the Bosjesman kills his
prey and fights his enemies. The small but terrible arrows which the
Bosjesman uses with such deadly effect are constructed with very great
care, and the neatness with which they are made is really surprising,
when we take into consideration the singularly inefficient tools which
are used.
The complete arrow is about eighteen inches in length, and it is made
of four distinct parts. First, we have the shaft, which is a foot
or thirteen inches long, and not as thick as an ordinary black-lead
pencil. This is formed from the common Kaffir reed, which, when dry,
is both strong and light. At either end it is bound firmly with the
split and flattened intestine of some animal, which is put on when wet,
and, when dry, shrinks closely, and is very hard and stiff. One end is
simply cut off transversely, and the other notched in order to receive
the bowstring. Next comes a piece of bone, usually that of the ostrich,
about three inches in length. One end of it is passed into the open end
of the shaft, and over the other is slipped a short piece of reed, over
which a strong “wrapping” of intestine has been placed. This forms a
socket for the true head of the arrow--the piece of ostrich bone being
only intended to give the needful weight to the weapon.
The head itself is made of ivory, and is shaped much like the piece
of bone already described. One end of it is sharpened, so that it can
be slipped into the reed socket, and the other is first bound with
intestine, and then a notch, about the eighth of an inch deep, is made
in it. This notch is for the reception of the triangular piece of
flattened iron, which we may call the blade.
The body of the arrow is now complete, and all that is required is to
add the poison which makes it so formidable. The poison, which is
first reduced to the consistency of glue, is spread thickly over the
entire head of the arrow, including the base of the head. Before it
has dried, a short spike of iron or quill is pushed into it, the point
being directed backward, so as to form a barb. If the arrow strikes a
human being, and he pulls it out of the wound, the iron blade, which
is but loosely attached to the head, is nearly sure to come off and
remain in the wound. The little barb is added for the same purpose,
and, even if the arrow itself be immediately extracted, enough of the
poison remains in the wound to cause death. But it is not at all likely
that the arrow will be extracted. The head is not fastened permanently
to the shaft, but is only loosely slipped into it. Consequently the
shaft is pulled away easily enough, but the head is left in the wound,
and affords no handle whereby it can be extracted. As may be seen from
the illustration No. 4 on the 247th page, a considerable amount of the
poison is used upon each arrow.
This little barb, or barblet, if the word may be used, is scarcely
as large as one nib of an ordinary quill pen, and lies so close to
the arrow that it would not be seen by an inexperienced eye. In form
it is triangular, the broader end being pressed into the poison, and
the pointed end directed backward, and lying almost parallel with the
shaft. It hardly seems capable of being dislodged in the wound, but
the fact is, that the poison is always soft in a warm climate, and so
allows the barb, which is very slightly inserted, to remain in the
wound, a portion of poison of course adhering to its base.
This is the usual structure of a good arrow, but the weapons are not
exactly alike. Some of them have only a single piece of bone by way
of a head, while many are not armed with the triangular blade. Arrows
that possess this blade are intended for war, and are not employed in
the peaceful pursuit of game. Hunting arrows have the head shaped much
like a spindle, or, to speak more familiarly, like the street boy’s
“cat,” being tolerably thick in the middle and tapering to a point at
each end. When not in actual use, the Bosjesman reverses the head, so
that the poisoned end is received into the hollow shaft, and thus is
debarred from doing useless harm. These heads are not nearly as thick
as those which are used for war, neither do they need as much poison.
The Bosjesman quiver and arrows which are illustrated on page 247 were
taken from the dead body of their owner, and were kindly sent to me
by H. Dennett, Esq. They are peculiarly valuable, because they are in
all stages of manufacture, and show the amount of labor and care which
is bestowed on these weapons. There is first the simple reed, having
both ends carefully bound with sinew to prevent it from splitting.
Then comes a reed with a piece of bone inserted in one end. On the next
specimen a small socket is formed at the end of the bone, in order to
receive the ivory head; and so the arrows proceed until the perfect
weapon is seen.
As to the poison which is used in arming the arrows, it is of two
kinds. That which is in ordinary use is made chiefly of vegetable
substances, such as the juice of certain euphorbias, together with
the matter extracted from the poison-gland of the puff-adder, cobra,
and other venomous serpents. In procuring this latter substance they
are singularly courageous. When a Bosjesman sees a serpent which can
be used for poisoning arrows, he does not kill it at once, but steals
quietly to the spot where it is lying, and sets his foot on its neck.
The snake, disturbed from the lethargic condition which is common to
all reptiles, starts into furious energy, and twists and struggles and
hisses, and does all in its power to inflict a wound on its foe. This
is exactly what the Bosjesman likes, and he excites the serpent to the
utmost pitch of fury before he kills it. The reason of this conduct
is, that the desire to bite excites the poison-gland, and causes it to
secrete the venomous substance in large quantities.
The Bosjesmans say that not only is the poison increased in volume, but
that its venomous properties are rendered more deadly by exciting the
anger of the reptile before it is killed. The materials for making this
poison are boiled down in a primitive kind of pot made of a hollowed
sandstone, and, when thoroughly inspissated, it assumes the color
and consistency of pitch. It is put on very thickly, in some parts
being about the eighth of an inch thick. In some arrows, the little
triangular head is only held in its place by the poison itself, being
merely loosely slipped into a notch and then cemented to the shaft with
the poison. In this case it acts as a barb, and remains in the wound
when the arrow is withdrawn.
In our climate the poison becomes hard, and is exceedingly brittle,
cracking in various directions, and being easily pulverized by being
rubbed between the fingers. But in the comparatively hot temperature of
Southern Africa it retains its soft tenacity, and even in this country
it can be softened before a fire and the cracked portions mended. It is
very bitter, and somewhat aromatic in taste, and in this respect much
resembles the dreaded wourali poison of tropical Guiana. In some places
the poison bulb is common, and in its prime it is very conspicuous,
being recognized at a considerable distance by the blue undulated
leaves which rise, as it were, out of the ground, and spread like a
fan. Soon, however, the leaves fall off and dry up, and nothing is seen
but a short, dry stalk, which gives little promise of the bulb below.
In some parts of the Bosjesmans’ country, the juice of amaryllis is
used for poisoning arrows, like that of euphorbia, and is then mixed
with the venom extracted from a large black spider, as well as that
which is obtained from serpents. An antidote for this mixed poison
is not at present known to white men, and whether the Bosjesmans are
acquainted with one is at present unknown. It would be a great boon,
not only to science, but to the inhabitants of that part of Africa,
if a remedy could be discovered, inasmuch as such a discovery would
at once deprive the Bosjesman of the only means whereby he can render
himself terrible to those who live in his neighborhood. Property
would then be rendered comparatively safe, and the present chronic
state of irregular warfare would be exchanged for peace and quiet.
The twofold nature of the poison, however, renders such a discovery a
matter of exceeding difficulty, as the antidote must be equally able to
counteract the vegetable poison as well as the animal venom.
Terrible as is this mixed poison, the Bosjesman has another which is
far more cruel in its effects. If a human being is wounded with an
arrow armed with this poison, he suffers the most intolerable agony,
and soon dies. Even if a small portion of this poison should touch a
scratch in the skin, the result is scarcely less dreadful, and, in
Livingstone’s graphic words, the sufferer “cuts himself, calls for
his mother’s breast, as if he were returned in idea to his childhood
again, or flies from human habitations a raging maniac.” The lion
suffers in much the same way, raging through the woods, and biting the
trees and the ground in the extremity of his pain. The poison which
produces such terrible effects is simply the juice which exudes from
a certain grub, called the N’gwa, or K’aa--the former title being
used by Dr. Livingstone, and the latter by Mr. Baines, who has given
great attention to this dread insect. His account of the insect is as
follows:--
There is a tree called the _Maruru papeerie_, which is about the size
of an ordinary elm, but which has its stems and branches covered with
thorns. The wood of this tree is of very soft texture. Upon the Maruru
papeerie are found the poison grubs, which are of a pale flesh-color,
something like that of the silkworm, and about three quarters of
an inch in length. One curious point in its habits is the singular
covering with which it is invested. “We were much puzzled by a covering
of green matter similar in color to the leaf it feeds on. At first we
thought it was the first skin peeling off, as it lay in loose rolls
parallel to the muscular rings of the body; it seemed gradually driven
forward toward the head, where it formed a shield or hood, portions
breaking off as it dried, and being replaced by fresh. At length we
were enabled to decide that it must be the excrement of the creature,
issuing not only in the usual manner, but from the pores that are
scattered over nearly the whole of its body.
“When the grub attains a length of three quarters of an inch, this
matter is more sparingly distributed, and is of a brownish color. In
a short time the grub drops from the tree, and, burying itself about
two feet below the surface, forms its cocoon of a thin shell of earth
agglutinated round its body. Its entrails, or rather the whole internal
juices, are, in all stages of its grubdom, of the most deadly nature,
and, if brought in contact with a cut, or sore of any kind, cause the
most excruciating agony.”
Through the kindness of Mr. Baines, who enriched my collection with
some specimens of the N’gwa, I am enabled to present my readers with
some figures of this dread insect. Fig. 1 shows the N’gwa, or K’aa,
of its natural size. The specimen was dry, shrivelled, and hard, but
a careful administration of moisture caused it to relax its stiffened
segments, and the wrinkled skin to become plump as in life.
[Illustration: POISON GRUB.]
Fig. 1 shows the under surface of the grub, as it appears when lying on
its back, and exhibits its six little legs, the dark head and thorax,
and the row of spiracles, or breathing apertures, along the sides.
Fig. 2 exhibits the same grub, as it appears when coiled up inside its
cocoon, and serves also to show the flattened form of the N’gwa in this
stage of existence.
Fig. 3 represents the cocoon itself. This domicile made of grains of
dark brown earth or sand, agglutinated together, is wonderfully hard,
strong, and compact, although its walls are exceedingly thin. When
entire, it is so strong that it will bear rather rough handling without
injury, but when it is broken, it tumbles into fragments almost at a
touch. The specimens are represented of their natural size.
When the Bosjesman wishes to poison an arrow-head, he first examines
his hands with the minutest care, so as to be certain that his skin
is not broken even by a slight scratch. He then takes a grub between
his fingers, and squeezes it so as to force out the whole contents of
the abdomen, together with the juices of the body. These he places
in little drops upon the arrow-point, arranging them at a tolerably
regular distance from each other; and when this is done, the dreadful
process is complete. It is no wonder that people who wield such
weapons as these should be equally feared and hated by all around
them. It is bad enough to be shot with arrows which, like those of the
Macoushies, cause certain death, but the terrors of the poison are
aggravated a hundred-fold when it causes fearful agony and absolute
mania before death relieves the sufferer.
A question now naturally arises, namely, the existence of any antidote
to this dreadful poison. Probably there is an antidote to every poison
if it were but known, and it is likely, therefore, that there is one
for the N’gwa. The Kaffirs say that the only antidote is fat. They have
a theory that the N’gwa requires fat, and that it consumes the life
of the wounded beings in its attempts to find fat. Consequently, when
a person is wounded with a poisoned arrow, they saturate the wound
with liquid fat, and think that, if it can be applied in time, and in
sufficient quantities, it satisfies the N’gwa, and saves the man’s life.
The Bosjesmans themselves deny that there is any antidote, but this
they might be expected to do, from their natural unwillingness to part
with so valuable a secret. It is no light matter to possess a poison
which keeps every enemy in terror, as well it may, when we consider
its effects. Dr. Livingstone mentions that the efficiency of this
poison is so great that it is used against the lion. After watching
the lion make a full meal, two Bosjesman hunters creep up to the spot
where the animal is reposing, according to his custom, and approach so
silently that not even a cracked stick announces the presence of an
enemy. One of them takes off his kaross, and holds it with both hands,
while the other prepares his weapons. When all is ready, a poisoned
arrow is sent into the lion’s body, and, simultaneously with the twang
of the bowstring, the kaross is flung over the animal’s head, so as
to bewilder him when he is so unceremoniously aroused, and to give
the bold hunters time to conceal themselves. The lion shakes off the
blinding cloak, and bounds off in terror, which soon gives way to pain,
and in a short time dies in convulsive agonies.
When the N’gwa is used for poisoning arrows, no other substance is
used, and in consequence the head of the weapon presents a much neater
appearance than when it is armed with the pitch-like euphorbia or
serpent poison. This substance being of so terrible a character, its
possessors would naturally be anxious to discover some antidote which
they might use in case of being accidentally wounded, and to give
foreigners the idea that no antidote existed. Consequently Mr. Baines
and his companions found that they persistently denied that they knew
of any antidote, but when they mentioned the very name of the plant
which they had heard was used by them for that purpose, the Bosjesmans
yielded the point, said that white men knew everything, and that it was
useless to conceal their knowledge.
The antidote is called by the name of Kàla haètlwe, and is chiefly made
from a small soft-stemmed plant. The flower is yellow, star-shaped, and
has five petals. The stamens are numerous, and the calyx is divided
into two sepals. The root is “something between a bulb and a tuber,
rough and brown outside, and when cut is seen marked with concentric
lines of light reddish brown and purple.” The leaves are two inches and
a half in length, and only a quarter of an inch wide. The mid-rib of
the leaf projects on the under surface, and forms a depression on the
upper. There are, however, two other plants which bear the same title,
and are used for the same purpose. One of them has a broader leaf and a
larger flower, and tastes something like sorrel, while the third has a
waved or wrinkled leaf. When the Kàla haètlwe is used, the root or bulb
is chewed and laid on the wound, and is followed by the application
of plenty of fat. I may here mention that the word “kàla” signifies
“friend,” and is therefore very appropriate to the plant.
This is not the only use which they make of poisons. If they are
retreating over a district which they do not intend to visit for some
time, they have an abominable custom of poisoning every water-hole in
their track. Sometimes they select one fountain, and mix its waters
with poison for the purpose of destroying game. The substance that is
used for poisoning water is generally of a vegetable nature. The bulb
of the poison-root (_Amaryllis toxicaria_) is much employed, and so
is the juice of the euphorbia. Mr. Moffatt nearly fell a victim to
this custom. After a long and tedious ride under the hot sunbeams, he
approached a Bosjesman village, near which his horse discovered a small
pool of water surrounded with bushes. Pushing his way through them,
Mr. Moffatt lay down and took a long draught at the water, not having
understood that the surrounding bushes were in fact a fence used to
warn human beings from the water. As soon as he had drunk, he perceived
an unusual taste, and then found that the water had been poisoned. The
effects of the poison were rather irritable, though not so painful as
might have been imagined. “I began to feel a violent turmoil within,
and a fulness of the system, as if the arteries would burst, while
the pulsation was exceedingly quick, being accompanied by a slight
giddiness in the head.” Fortunately, a profuse perspiration came on,
and he recovered, though the strange sensations lasted for several days.
To the honor of the Bosjesmans, it must be said that they displayed the
greatest solicitude on this occasion. One of them came running out of
the village, just after the water had been drunk, and, not knowing that
the mischief had already been done, tried to show by gestures that the
water must not be drunk. They then ran about in all directions, seeking
for a remedy; and when they found that the result would not be fatal,
they showed extravagant joy. The escape was a very narrow one, as a
zebra had died on the previous day from drinking at the same fountain.
This anecdote, when taken in conjunction with Dr. Lichtenstein’s
narrative, shows that this despised race of people are not, as some
seem to think, devoid of all human affections, and thereby degraded
below the level of the brute beasts. Subjected, as they are, to
oppression on every side, and equally persecuted by the Hottentots,
the Kaffirs, and the white colonists, it is not to be supposed that
they could be remarkable for the benevolence of their disposition, or
their kindly feelings toward the hostile people with whom they are
surrounded: and, whenever they find an opportunity for retaliation, it
is but natural that they should take advantage of it.
Small, few, and weak, they would have been long ago exterminated but
for their one weapon, the poisoned arrow, and, through its possession,
they have exacted from their many foes the same feeling of respectful
abhorrence which we entertain toward a hornet or a viper. All hate and
dread the Bosjesman, but no one dares to despise him. However powerful
may be a tribe of Kaffirs or Hottentots, or however carefully an
European settlement may be protected, a single Bosjesman will keep them
in constant alarm. Sentries are almost useless when a Bosjesman chooses
to make a nocturnal attack, for he can crawl unseen within a few yards
of the sentinel, lodge a poisoned arrow in his body, and vanish as
imperceptibly as he arrived. As to finding the retreat in which he
hides himself by day, it is almost impossible, even to a Hottentot,
for the Bosjesman is marvellously skilful in obliterating tracks, and
making a false spoor, and has besides the art of packing his tiny body
into so small a compass, that he can lie at his ease in a hole which
seems hardly large enough to accommodate an ordinary rabbit.
Yet, though he is hunted and persecuted like the hornet and the viper,
and, like those creatures, can use his venomed weapon when provoked,
it is evident that he is not incapable of gratitude, and that he can
act in a friendly manner toward those who treat him kindly. Vindictive
he can be when he thinks himself offended, and he can wreak a most
cruel vengeance on those who have incurred his wrath. But that he is
not destitute of the better feelings of humanity is evident from the
above-mentioned accounts, and we ought to feel grateful to the writer
for giving, on undoubted authority, a better character to the Bosjesman
than he was thought to have deserved.
The shape of the arrows, together with the want of feathers, and the
feeble nature of the bow, implies that they are not intended for long
ranges. The Bosjesman is, indeed, a very poor marksman, and does not
care to shoot at an object that is more than thirty or forty yards from
him, preferring a distance of eight or ten yards, if he can manage
to creep so near. In order to test the Bosjesman’s marksmanship, Mr.
Burchel hung on a pole an antelope skin kaross, nearly seven feet
square. One of the men took his bow and arrows, crept toward it until
he was within twenty yards, and missed it with his first arrow, though
he struck it with the second.
The quiver, which seems to be a necessary accompaniment to the bow
and arrow in all nations which use these weapons, is sometimes made
of wood, and sometimes of leather. The example which is shown on page
247 is of the latter material, and is drawn from a specimen in my own
collection. It is made very strongly, and is an admirable example of
Bosjesman workmanship. The hide of which it is made is that of some
large animal, such as the ox or the eland, but as the hair has been
carefully removed, no clue is left as to the precise animal which
furnished the skin. The wooden quivers are almost invariably made from
one of the aloes (_Aloe dichotoma_), which has therefore received
from the Dutch colonists the name of “Kokerboom,” or quiver-tree.
Occasionally, however, they are made from the karree tree, a species of
Rhus, which grows on the banks of rivers, and in habits and appearance
much resembles the English willow.
The Bosjesman has a very ingenious method of carrying his weapons
when upon a journey, the bow, quiver, and knob-kerrie being tied
together, and the whole group slung over the back. A perfectly equipped
Bosjesman, however, has a kind of skin case, in which he places his
weapons. Sometimes it is merely a leathern bag, but in its best form
it is composed of an entire antelope skin, the body of which forms the
case, and the legs acting as straps by which it can be hung on the back.
The bow is extremely small and simple, inasmuch as the Bosjesman cares
little about its strength, because he never shoots at objects at
more than a few yards’ distance. It is mostly made of a species of
Tarchonanthus, but the Bosjesman is not particular about its material,
so that it be tolerably elastic. Neither is he fastidious about its
size, which is seldom more than four feet in length, and often less;
nor about its shape, for the curve is often extremely irregular, the
thickest portion of the bow not having been kept in the centre. Any
little boy can make, with a stick and a string, a bow quite as good as
that which is used by the Bosjesman. In using it, the Bosjesman does
not hold it vertically, after the manner of the ordinary long-bow, but
horizontally, as if it were a cross-bow--a fact which explains the
extremely indifferent aim which can be taken with it.
The Bosjesman generally carries an assagai, but it is not of his own
manufacture, as he is quite ignorant of the blacksmith’s art. Even the
little triangular tips which are placed on the arrow-heads are hammered
with infinite labor, the iron being laid cold on one stone, and
beaten perseveringly with another, until it is at last flattened. Of
softening it by heat the Bosjesman knows nothing, nor does he possess
even the rude instruments which are necessary for heating the iron to
the softening point. The assagai is usually the work of the Bechuanas,
and is purchased from them by the Bosjesman. Now and then, an ordinary
Kaffir’s assagai is seen in the hand of the Bosjesman, and in this
case it is generally part of the spoils of war, the original owner
having been killed by a poisoned arrow. From the same source also is
derived the knife which the Bosjesman usually wears hanging by a thong
round his neck, the instrument being almost invariably of Bechuana
manufacture.
The Bosjesman, indeed, makes nothing with his own hands which is not
absolutely necessary to him. The assagai and the knife are rather
luxuries than necessaries, and are obtained from strangers. The bow
and poisoned arrow, however, with which he fights human enemies, or
destroys the larger animals, are absolutely necessary to him, and so is
the knob-kerrie, with which he obtains the smaller animals and birds.
He also beats his wife with it, and perhaps considers it a necessary
article of property on that score also. These, therefore, every
Bosjesman can make for himself, and considers himself sufficiently
equipped when he possesses them.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE BOSJESMAN--_Concluded_.
THE AMUSEMENTS OF THE BOSJESMAN -- HOW HE SMOKES -- HIS DANCE --
CURIOUS ATTITUDES -- DANCING-RATTLES -- THE WATER-DRUM -- SPECIMENS
OF BOSJESMAN MUSIC -- ITS SINGULAR SCALE AND INTERVALS -- SUCCEDANEUM
FOR A HANDKERCHIEF -- A TRAVELLER’S OPINION OF THE DANCE AND SONG --
THE GOURA -- ITS CONSTRUCTION, AND MODE OF USING IT -- QUALITY OF
THE TONES PRODUCED BY IT -- A BOSJESMAN MELODY AS PERFORMED ON THE
GOURA -- THE JOUM-JOUM AND THE PERFORMER -- SOOTHING EFFECT OF THE
INSTRUMENT -- ART AMONG THE BOSJESMANS -- MR. CHRISTIE’S DESCRIPTIVE
SKETCH -- THE BOSJESMAN’S BRUSH AND COLORS -- HIS APPRECIATION OF A
DRAWING -- ANECDOTES OF BOSJESMANS.
The amusements of the Bosjesmans are very similar to those of the
Hottentots, and can be generally comprised in two words, namely,
singing and dancing. Both these words are to be understood in
their South African sense, and are not to be taken in an European
signification. Perhaps smoking ought to be included in the category
of amusements. How a Bosjesman smokes after a meal has already been
narrated. But there are seasons when he does not merely take a few
whiffs as a conclusion to a meal, but deliberately sets to work at
a smoking festival. He then takes the smoke in such quantities,
swallowing instead of ejecting it, that he is seized with violent
coughing fits, becomes insensible, and falls down in convulsions. His
companions then take upon themselves the duty of restoring him, and do
so in a rather singular manner.
As is usual in smoking parties, a supply of fresh water is kept at
hand, together with reeds, through which the smokers have a way
of discharging the smoke and water after a fashion which none but
themselves can perfectly accomplish. When one of their number falls
down in a fit of convulsions, his companions fill their mouths with
water, and then spirt it through the tube upon the back of his neck,
blowing with all their force, so as to produce as great a shock as
possible. This rather rough treatment is efficacious enough, and when
the man has fairly recovered, he holds himself in readiness to perform
the like office on his companions.
The dance of the Bosjesman is of a very singular character, and seems
rather oddly calculated for producing amusement either in performers or
spectators. “One foot,” writes Burchell, “remains motionless, while
the other dances in a quick, wild, irregular, manner, changing its
place but little, though the knee and leg are turned from side to side
as much as the attitude will allow. The arms have but little motion,
their duty being to support the body.
“The dancer continues singing all the while, and keeps time with every
movement, sometimes twisting the body in sudden starts, until at last,
as if fatigued by the extent of his exertions, he drops upon the ground
to recover breath, still maintaining the spirit of the dance, and
continuing to sing and keep time, by the motion of his body, to the
voices and accompaniments of the spectators. In a few seconds he starts
up again, and proceeds with increased vigor. When one foot is tired
out, or has done its share of the dance, the other comes forward and
performs the same part; and thus, changing legs from time to time, it
seemed as though he meant to convince his friends that he could dance
forever.”
When the Bosjesman dances in a house he is not able to stand upright,
and consequently is obliged to support himself between two sticks,
on which he leans with his body bent forward. Very little space is
required for such a dance, and in consequence the hut is nearly filled
with spectators, who squat in a circle, leaving just space enough in
the centre for the dancer to move in. In order to assist him in marking
time, he has a set of rattles which he ties round his ankles. They are
made of the ears of the springbok, the edges being sewed together, and
some fragments of ostrich shell placed loosely in the interior. They
are tied on the outside of the ankle.
The dances which I have seen performed by the Bosjesmans resembled
those described by Burchell, the dancer supporting himself on a long
stick, though he was in the open air, and occasionally beating time
with the stick upon the ground to the peculiar Bosjesman measure. The
spectators, whether men or women, accompany the dancer in his song by
a sort of melody of their own, and by clapping their hands, or beating
sticks on the ground, in time with his steps. They also beat a simple
instrument called the Water-Drum. This is nothing more than a wooden
bowl, or “bambus.” A little water is previously poured into the bowl,
and by its aid the skin is kept continually wet. It is beaten with
the forefinger of the right hand, and is kept to the proper pitch by
pressing the thumb and forefinger of the left hand upon the skin.
Not being skilled in the Bosjesman’s language, I was unable to
distinguish a single syllable used by the Bosjesman in dancing, but Mr.
Burchell gives them as follows. The dancer uses the word “Wawa-koo,”
repeated continually, while the spectators sing “Aye-O,” separating
the hands at the first syllable, and bringing them sharply together at
the second. The effect of the combined voices and dances may be seen
by the following notation, which was taken by Burchell. This strange
combination of sounds, which is so opposed to our system of music,
is grateful to the ear of most South Africans, and in principle is
prevalent among many of the tribes, though there are differences in
their modes and measures.
SPECTATORS. { [Music: Aye O aye O aye O aye eh aye O O O]
DANCER. { [Music: Wawa koo wawa koo wawa koo wawa koo wawa koo
{ wawa koo]
WATER-DRUM. { [Music]
{ _ad infinitum_
When engaged in this singular performance, the dancer seems so
completely wrapped up in his part, that he has no thought except to
continue his performance in the most approved style. On the occasion
just mentioned, the dancer did not interrupt his movement for a single
moment when the white man made his unexpected entrance into the hut,
and, indeed, seemed wholly unconscious of his presence. Shaking and
twisting each leg alternately until it is tired does not seem to our
eyes to be a particularly exhilarating recreation, especially when
the performer cannot stand upright, is obliged to assume a stooping
posture, and has only a space of a foot or two in diameter in which he
can move. But the Bosjesman derives the keenest gratification from this
extraordinary amusement, and the more he fatigues himself, the more he
seems to enjoy it.
As is likely in such a climate, with such exertions, and with an
atmosphere so close and odorous that an European can scarcely live in
it, the perspiration pours in streams from the performer, and has, at
all events, the merit of acting as a partial ablution. By way of a
handkerchief, the dancer carries in his hand the bushy tail of a jackal
fastened to a stick, and with this implement he continually wipes his
countenance. He seems to have borrowed this custom from the Bechuanas,
who take great pains in their manufacture of this article, as will be
seen when we come to treat of their habits.
After dancing until he is unable even to stand, the Bosjesman is forced
to yield his place to another, and to become one of the spectators.
Before doing so, he takes off the rattles, and passes them to his
successor, who assumes them as essential to the dance, and wears them
until he, in his turn, can dance no longer. Here is another dancing
tune taken down by Mr. Burchell on the same evening:--
THE COMPANY. { [Music: Aye O aye O aye O, aye eh aye O O O]
DANCER. { [Music: Lok a tay Lok a tay Lok a tay]
WATER-DRUM. { [Music]
It may seem strange that such odd music could have any charms for an
European who knew anything of music. Yet that such can be the case is
evident from the words of the above mentioned traveller. “I find it
impossible to give, by any means of mere description, a correct idea of
the pleasing impressions received while viewing this scene, or of the
kind of effect which the evening’s amusements produced upon my mind and
feelings. It must be seen, it must be participated in, without which
it would not be easy to imagine its force, or justly to conceive its
nature. There was in this amusement nothing which can make me ashamed
to confess that I derived as much enjoyment from it as the natives
themselves. There was nothing in it which approached to vulgarity, and,
in this point of view, it would be an injustice to these poor creatures
not to place them in a more respectable rank than that to which the
notions of Europeans have generally admitted them. It was not rude
laughter and boisterous mirth, nor drunken jokes, nor noisy talk, which
passed their hours away, but the peaceful, calm emotion of harmless
pleasure.
“Had I never seen and known more of these savages than the occurrences
of this day, and the pastimes of the evening, I should not have
hesitated to declare them the happiest of mortals. Free from care, and
pleased with a little, their life seemed flowing on, like a smooth
stream gliding through flowery meads. Thoughtless and unreflecting,
they laughed and smiled the hours away, heedless of futurity, and
forgetful of the past. Their music softened all their passions, and
thus they lulled themselves into that mild and tranquil state in which
no evil thoughts approach the mind. The soft and delicate voices of
the girls, instinctively accordant to those of the women and the men;
the gentle clapping of the hands; the rattles of the dancer; and the
mellow sound of the water drum, all harmoniously attuned, and keeping
time together; the peaceful, happy countenances of the party, and the
cheerful light of the fire, were circumstances so combined and fitted
to produce the most soothing effects on the senses, that I sat as
if the hut had been my home, and felt in the midst of this horde as
though I had been one of them; for some few moments ceasing to think of
sciences or of Europe, and forgetting that I was a lonely stranger in a
land of untutored men.”
Nor is this a solitary example of the effect of native music in its own
land, for other travellers have, as we shall see, written in equally
glowing terms of the peculiar charms of the sounds produced by the rude
instruments of Southern Africa, accompanied by the human voice.
We now come to the instrument which is, _par excellence_, the
characteristic instrument of Southern Africa. The water-drum is
a rather curious musical instrument, but there is one even more
remarkable in use among the Bosjesmans, which is a singular combination
of the stringed and wind principles. In general form it bears a great
resemblance to the Kaffir harp, but it has no gourd by way of a
sounding-board, and the tones are produced in a different manner. This
instrument is called the Goura, and is thus described by Le Vaillant:--
“The goura is shaped like the bow of a savage Hottentot. It is of
the same size, and a string made of intestines, fixed to one of its
extremities, is retained at the other by a knot in the barrel of a
quill which is flattened and cleft. This quill being opened, forms a
very long isosceles triangle, about two inches in length; and at the
base of this triangle the hole is made that keeps the string fast, the
end of which, drawn back, is tied at the other end of the bow with a
very thin thong of leather. This cord may be stretched so as to have
a greater or less degree of tension according to the pleasure of the
musician, but when several gouras play together, they are never in
unison.
“Such is the first instrument of a Hottentot, which one would not
suppose to be a wind instrument, though it is undoubtedly of that
kind. It is held almost in the same manner as a huntsman’s horn, with
that end where the quill is fixed toward the performer’s mouth, which
he applies to it, and either by aspiration or inspiration draws from
it very melodious tones. The savages, however, who succeed best on
this instrument, cannot play any regular tune; they only emit certain
twangs, like those drawn in a particular manner from a violin or
violoncello. I took great pleasure in seeing one of my attendants
called John, who was accounted an adept, regale for whole hours his
companions, who, transported and ravished, interrupted him every now
and then by exclaiming ‘Ah! how charming it is; begin that again.’
John began again, but his second performance had no resemblance to the
first: for, as I have said, these people cannot play any regular tune
upon this instrument, the tones of which are only the effect of chance,
and of the quality of the quill. The best quills are those which are
taken from the wings of a certain species of bustard, and whenever I
happened to kill one of these birds, I was always solicited to make a
small sacrifice for the support of our orchestra.”
In playing this remarkable instrument, the performer seats himself,
brings the quill to his mouth, and steadies himself by resting his
elbows on his knees, and putting the right forefinger into the
corresponding ear, and the left forefinger into his wide nostril. A
good performer uses much exertion in order to bring out the tones
properly, and it is a curious fact, that an accomplished player
contrives to produce octaves by blowing with increased strength, just
as is done with the flute, an instrument on which the sound of the
goura can be tolerably represented.
[Music]
The same traveller contrived to write down the air which was played
by a celebrated performer, and found that he always repeated the same
movement. The time occupied in playing it through was seventy seconds.
“When a woman plays the goura, it changes its name merely because she
changes the manner of playing it, and it is then transformed into a
_joum-joum_. Seated on the ground, she places it perpendicularly before
her, in the same manner as a harp is held in Europe. She keeps it firm
in its position by putting her foot between the bow and the string,
taking care not to touch the latter. With the right hand she grasps the
bow in the middle, and while she blows with her mouth in the quill, she
strikes the string in several places with a small stick five or six
inches in length, which she holds in the other hand. This produces some
variety in the modulations, but the instrument must be brought close
to the ear before one can catch distinctly all the modulations of the
sounds. This manner of holding the goura struck me much, especially as
it greatly added to the graces of the female who performed on it.”
The reader will see from this description that the tones of the
goura are not unlike those of the jews-harp, though inferior both in
volume and variety to those which can be produced from a tolerably
good instrument. Both the Hottentots and Bosjesmans soon learn to
manage the jews-harp, and, on account of its small size and consequent
portability, it has almost superseded the native goura.
Two more musical instruments are or were used by these people. One is
the native guitar, or Rabouquin, which somewhat resembles the familiar
“banjo” of the negro. It consists of a triangular piece of board,
furnished with a bridge, over which are stretched three strings, made
of the twisted intestines of animals. The strings are attached to
pegs, by which they can be tightened or loosened so as to produce the
required note. As Le Vaillant quaintly observes: “Any other person
might perhaps produce some music from it and render it agreeable, but
the native is content with drumming on the strings with his fingers at
random, so that any musical effect is simply a matter of chance.”
The last instrument which these natives possess is a kind of drum,
made of a hollowed log, over one end of which a piece of tanned skin
is tightly stretched. The drum is sometimes beaten with the fists and
sometimes with sticks, and a well-made drum will give out resonant
notes which can be heard at a considerable distance. This drum is
called by the name of Romelpot.
The effect of native music on an European ear has already been
mentioned on page 264. Dr. Lichtenstein, himself a good musician,
corroborates Burchell’s account, and speaks no less highly, though in
more technical and scientific language, of that music, and the peculiar
scale on which it is formed.
“We were by degrees so accustomed to the monotonous sound that our
sleep was never disturbed by it; nay, it rather lulled us to sleep.
Heard at a distance, there is nothing unpleasant in it, but something
plaintive and soothing. Although no more than six tones can be
produced from it, which do not besides belong to our gamut, but form
intervals quite foreign to it, yet the kind of vocal sound of these
tones, the uncommon nature of the rhythm, and even the oddness, I may
say wildness, of the harmony, give to this music a charm peculiar to
itself. I venture to make use of the term ‘harmony,’ for so it may
indeed be called, since, although the intervals be not the same as
ours, they stand in a proportion perfectly regular and intelligible, as
well as pleasing to the ear.
“Between the principal tones and the octave lie only three intervals;
the first is at least somewhat deeper than our great third; the second
lies in the middle, between the little and the great fifth; and the
third between the great sixth and the little seventh; so that a person
might imagine he hears the modulation first in the smallest seventh
accord. Yet everyone lies higher in proportion to the principal tone;
the ear feels less the desire of breaking off in the pure triple sound;
it is even more satisfied without it. Practised players continue to
draw out the second, sometimes even the third, interval, in the higher
octave. Still these high tones are somewhat broken, and seldom pure
octaves of the corresponding deep tones. Melodies, properly speaking,
are never to be heard; it is only a change of the same tones long
protracted, the principal tone being struck before every one. It
deserves to be remarked, that the intervals in question do not properly
belong to the instrument; they are, in truth, the psalmodial music of
the African savages.”
There is nothing more easy than to theorize, and nothing more difficult
than to make the theory “hold water,” as the saying is. I knew a
learned philologist, who elaborated a theory on the structure of
language, and illustrated it by careful watching of his successive
children, and noting the mode in which they struggled through their
infantile lispings into expression. First came inarticulate sounds,
which none but the mother could understand, analogous to the cries
of the lower animals, and employed because the yet undeveloped mind
had not advanced beyond the animal stage of existence. Then came
onomatopœia, or imitative sounds, and so, by regular degrees, through
substantives, verbs, adjectives, and pronouns, the powers of language
were systematically developed. This theory answered very well with the
first two children, but broke down utterly with the third, whose first
utterance was, “Don’t tease, go away.”
So has it been with the Bosjesman race; and, while they have been
described as the most degraded of the great human family, signs have
been discovered which show that they have some knowledge of the
rudiments of art. I allude here to the celebrated Bosjesman paintings
which are scattered through the country, mostly in caves and on
rocks near water springs, and which are often as well drawn as those
produced so plentifully by the American Indians. They almost invariably
represent figures of men and beasts, and in many cases the drawing is
sufficiently good to enable the spectator to identity the particular
animals which the native artist has intended to delineate.
The following account of some of these drawings is taken from the notes
of Mr. Christie, which he has liberally placed at my disposal:--
“I cannot add much to what is written of them, except to allude to
what are termed Bushman paintings, found in caverns and on flat stone
surfaces near some of their permanent water supplies. I have only met
with two instances of the former paintings, and they were in a cave in
the side of a krantz, in the north part of the Zwart Ruggens. I came
upon them while hunting koodoos. One side of the cavern was covered
with outlines of animals. Only the upper part was distinguishable, and
evidently represented the wildebeest, or gnoo, the koodoo, quagga, &c.
The figures were very rudely drawn, and the colors used were dull-red
and black, and perhaps white; the latter may possibly have been a
stalactite deposition from water.
“The other instance was near an outspan place on the Karroo road to
Graff Reinet, known as Pickle Fountain, where there is a permanent
spring of fresh water, near the course of an ancient stream now dry.
On a flat piece of sandstone which had once formed part of the bank
of the stream were the remains of a drawing, which may have been
the outline of a man with a bow and arrow, and a dog, but it was so
weather-worn that little more could be made out than the fact of its
being a drawing. The colors used, as in the cave, were red and black.
At the time of my seeing the drawings, I had with me a Bushman, named
Booy (who was born near what is marked in the map as the Commissioner’s
Salt Pan), but he could give me no information on the subject of the
paintings, and I am rather inclined to think that they are the work of
one of the Hottentot tribes now extinct.
“My Bushman was a very shrewd fellow, but, although I had been at that
time for some years among the natives, I had not become aware of the
poverty of their intellect. I had shown them drawings numberless times,
had described them, and listened to their remarks, but had not then
discovered that even the most intelligent had no idea of a picture
beyond a simple outline. They cannot understand the possibility of
perspective, nor how a curved surface can be shown on a flat sheet of
paper.”
Together with this account, Mr. Christie transmitted a copy of a
similar drawing found in a cavern in the George district. The color
used in the drawings is red, upon a yellow ground--the latter tint
being that of the stone on which they were delineated. The subject
of the drawing is rather obscure. The figures are evidently intended
to represent men, but they are unarmed, and present the peculiarity
of wearing headdresses, such as are not used by any of the tribes
with whom the Bosjesmans could have come in contact. They might have
often seen the Kaffirs, with their war ornaments of feathers, and the
Hottentots with their rude skin caps, but no South African tribe wears
a headdress which could in any way be identified with these. Partly
on this account, and partly because the figures are not armed with
bows and arrows, as is usual in figures that are intended to represent
Bosjesmans, Mr. Christie is of opinion that many years ago a boat’s
crew may have landed on the coast, and that the Bosjesmans who saw them
recorded the fact by this rock-picture.
The tools of the Bosjesman artist are simple enough, consisting of a
feather dipped in grease, in which he has mixed colored clays, and, as
Mr. Baines well observes, he never fails to give the animals which he
draws the proper complement of members. Like a child, he will place the
horns and ears half down the neck, and distribute the legs impartially
along the body; but he knows nothing of perspective, and has not the
least idea of foreshortening, or of concealing one limb or horn behind
another, as it would appear to the eye.
The same traveller rather differs from Mr. Christie in his estimation
of the artistic powers of the Bosjesman, and his capability for
comprehending a picture. According to him, a Bosjesman can understand
a colored drawing perfectly. He can name any tree, bird, animal, or
insect, that has been drawn in colors, but does not seem to appreciate
a perspective drawing in black and white. “When I showed them the
oil-painting of the Damara family, their admiration knew no bounds.
The forms, dress, and ornaments of the figures were freely commented
on, and the distinctive characteristics between them and the group of
Bushmen pointed out. The dead bird was called by its name, and, what
I hardly expected, even the bit of wheel and fore part of the wagon
was no difficulty to them. They enjoyed the sketch of Kobis greatly,
and pointed out the figures in the group of men, horses, and oxen very
readily. Leaves and flowers they had no difficulty with, and the only
thing they failed in was the root of the markwhae. But when it is
considered that if this, the real blessing of the desert, were lying
on the surface, an inexperienced Englishman would not know it from a
stone at a little distance, this is not to be wondered at. The dead
animals drawn in perspective and foreshortened were also named as fast
as I produced them, except a half-finished, _uncolored_ sketch of the
brindled gnoo. They had an idea of its proper name, but, said they, ‘We
can see only one horn, and it may be a rhinoceros or a wild boar.’”
* * * * *
The following anecdotes have been kindly sent to me by Captain Drayson,
R. A., who was engaged in the late Kaffir war:--
“The habits of the Bushman are those of a thoroughly wild hunter;
to him cattle are merely an incumbrance, and to cultivate the soil
is merely to do himself what Nature will do for him. The country in
which he resides swarms with game, and to kill this is to a Bushman no
trouble. His neighbors keep cattle, and that is as a last resource a
means of subsistence; but, as the Bushman wanders over the country, and
selects those spots in which the necessaries of life abound, he rarely
suffers from want. If a young Bushman be captured, as sometimes happens
when the Dutch Boers set out on an expedition against these thieves,
the relatives at once track the captive to its prison, and sooner or
later recover it. I once saw a Bushboy who had been eight years in a
Dutchman’s family, had learned to speak Dutch, to eat with a knife and
fork, and to wear clothes; but at the end of that time the Bushboy
disappeared. His clothes were found in the stables in the place of a
horse which he had taken with him. The spoor being rapidly followed,
was found to lead to the Draakensberg Mountains, among the fastnesses
of which the Boers had no fancy to follow, for from every cranny and
inaccessible ridge a poisonous arrow might be discharged, as the youth
had evidently rejoined his long-lost relatives.
“It was a great surprise to notice the effect on our Dutch sporting
companions of the intimation of ‘Bushmen near.’ We were riding on an
elevated spur of the Draakensberg, near the Mooi River, when a Boer
suddenly reined up his horse, and exclaimed:--
“‘Cess, kek die spoor von verdamt Boschmen!’
“Jumping off his horse he examined the ground, and then said: ‘A man
it is; one naked foot, the other with a velschoen.’ The whole party
immediately became intensely excited, they scattered in all directions
like a pack of hounds in cover; some galloped to the nearest ridge,
others followed on the spoor, all in search of the Bushman. ‘He has not
long gone,’ said one of my companions; ‘be ready.’
“‘Ready for what?’ I inquired.
“‘Ready to shoot the schelm.’
“‘Would you shoot him?’ I asked.
“‘Just so as I would a snake.’
“And then my companion explained to me that he had not long since
bought at a great price a valuable horse which he had taken to his
farm. In three weeks the horse was stolen by Bushmen. He followed
quickly, and the animal being fat, begun to tire, so two Bushmen who
were riding it jumped off, stabbed it with their arrows, and left it.
The horse died that night. Again, a neighbor had about twenty oxen
carried off. The Bushmen were the thieves, and, on being followed
closely, stabbed all the oxen, most of which died.
“Many other similar tales were told, our informant winding up with
these remarks:
“‘I have heard that every creature God makes is useful, and I think so
too; but it is only useful in its place. A puff-adder is useful where
there are too many toads or frogs; but when he comes into my house
he is out of place, and I kill him. A Bushman near my farm is out of
place, and I shoot him; for if I let him alone he poisons my horses and
cattle, and very likely me too.’
“Only twice did I ever see the Bushman at home; on the first occasion
it was just after a fearful storm, and they had sought shelter in
a kloof near our quarters. They emerged about three hundred yards
in advance of us, and immediately made off like the wind. Not to be
unconventional, we sent a bullet after them, but high over their
head; they stayed not for another. On a second occasion I was close
to them, and was first made aware of their presence in consequence of
an arrow striking a tree near; not aimed at me, but at some Daas, or
rock-rabbits, which were on the rocks close by. With no little care
and some speed I retreated from the neighborhood of such implements as
poisoned arrows, and then by aid of a glass saw the Bushmen first find
their arrow and then my spoor, at which latter they took fright, and
disappeared in a neighboring kloof.”
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE KORANNAS AND NAMAQUAS.
NOMAD CHARACTER OF THE TRIBE -- THEIR GENERAL CHARACTER -- DISTINCT
FROM THE BOSJESMAN TRIBE -- THEIR HORSES AND CATTLE -- GOVERNMENT
-- DRESS OF THE KORANNAS -- SINGULAR MODE OF DANCING -- DESIRE OF
OBTAINING KNOWLEDGE -- THE MUSICAL ALPHABET -- “AULD LANG SYNE” --
TENACIOUS MEMORY OF A YOUNG KORANNA -- HIS GROTESQUE APPEARANCE
-- FONDNESS FOR MEDICINE -- THE NAMAQUA TRIBE -- CHARACTER OF
GREAT NAMAQUA-LAND -- VICISSITUDES OF THE CLIMATE -- EFFECT ON THE
INHABITANTS -- AFRICANER, AND HIS HISTORY -- DRESS OF THE NAMAQUAS
-- THEIR IDEAS OF RELIGION -- SUPERSTITIONS -- STORY OF A NAMAQUA
HUNTER AND A BOSJESMAN WOMAN -- RAIN-MAKING -- HEALING THE SICK --
THE DOCTOR’S PANACEA -- POLYGAMY AND DIVORCE -- CATTLE-TRAINING --
CRUELTY TOWARD THE INFIRM AND AGED -- ADOPTION OF PARENTS.
In accordance with the plan of this work, we will now glance slightly
at a few of the more conspicuous tribes which inhabit Southern Africa
from the Cape to that part of the continent which is occupied by the
negro races.
Among the offshoots of the Hottentots is a tribe called indifferently
Kora, Koraqua, Korans, or Korannas. On account of their nomad habits,
it is impossible to fix any particular locality for them, and besides
it often happens that they extend their peregrinations into the
territories of tribes more adherent to the soil, and for a time are
as completely mixed up with them as if they belonged to the same
tribe. Owing to their want of civilization, and general manners, some
travellers have considered them as a rude tribe of Bosjesmans, but they
have been satisfactorily proved to belong to the Hottentots.
They seem to be quiet and well-behaved, and possessed of much
curiosity. Burchell relates one or two anecdotes of the latter quality,
and gives an amusing description of their astonishment at the sight
of a colored drawing which he had made of a yellow fish. One of them
had struck one of these fishes, and Burchell had borrowed it in order
to make a colored drawing of it. When the owner came to take it
back, he happened to glance at the drawing, and was struck dumb with
amazement, gazing at it with mouth and eyes wide open. At last he found
his tongue, and called his companions to see the new wonder. At the
sight of the drawing, they behaved much as a company of monkeys might
be supposed to conduct themselves, turning the paper to look at the
back of it, feeling it with their fingers, and being quite unable to
comprehend how an object could at once be rounded to the eye, and flat
to the touch.
Of the general character of the Koranna Hottentots, Dr. Lichtenstein
has written so admirable an analysis in so small a compass, that I
cannot do better than give his own words:--
“These Korans are the oldest original inhabitants of the country;
they are a tolerably numerous race, mild, and well-disposed, speaking
almost the same language that was formerly spoken by the Hottentot
tribes within the colony, but which has not hitherto been sufficiently
known by the Europeans to acquire from it much insight into the
ancient customs and habits of the people. They still live, after the
manner of their forefathers, in small villages or kraals, in huts of a
hemispherical form, and are slothful by nature, so that they are not so
successful in breeding cattle--though their country is extremely well
adapted to it, as the stronger and more industrious Kaffir tribes. With
these, who are their nearest neighbors, they live on very good terms;
but a perpetual warfare subsists between them and the Bosjesmans; the
latter are hated by them to excess.
“The Korans have hitherto been very erroneously confounded with the
Bosjesmans, but they are a totally distinct people, having their
principal residence on the banks of the Narb and Vaal rivers, northeast
from where we now were, and south of the Bechuana country. They are
divided into several tribes, the principal of which are called the
Kharemankis and the Khuremankis. In their size and corporeal structure
they resemble the Hottentots very much, but the cheek and chin bones
are less prominent, and the whole face is more oval than some other of
the Hottentot tribes. They have all a kind of voluptuous expression
about the mouth, which, united with a peculiar wild roll of the eye,
and a rough, broken manner of speaking, give them altogether the
appearance of intoxication, nor indeed are they falsified by it, since
they are truly a voluptuous race, deficient in bodily strength, and
destitute of martial courage.
“Their clothing consists of a mantle of prepared skin, made either
from the hides of their cattle, or from those of the antelopes: it
is smaller, and of a somewhat different form from that worn by the
Bechuanas, and is never made of several small skins sewed together.
A favorite mode with them is to scrape figures of various kinds on
the hairy side of these mantles. They trade with the Bechuanas for
ornaments for the ears, neck, and arms.
“The cattle are held in high estimation by them; they take much more
care of these creatures than the other tribes, or than most of the
colonists. They are so much celebrated for training the oxen as riding
and draught animals, that the Bechuanas acknowledge them to be in this
instance their masters, and purchase of them those that they use for
riding. These animals go an exceedingly good trot or gallop, and clear
a great deal of ground in a very short time. There is no occasion ever
to be harsh with them; ’tis sufficient to touch them with a thin osier.
The rider never neglects, when he dismounts, to have the animal led
about slowly for a quarter of an hour, that he may cool by degrees.
The bridle is fastened to a wooden pin, stuck through the nose, and
a sheep’s or a goat’s skin serves as a saddle. On this the rider has
so firm a seat, that he is in no danger of being thrown by even the
wildest ox.
“The Korans do not apply themselves at all to agriculture; their
dwellings are spherical huts, very much like those of the Koossas, but
not so spacious. Some skins and mats, on which they sleep, some leather
knapsacks, and a sort of vessel somewhat in the form of cans, which
are cut out of a piece of solid wood, with some calabashes and bamboo
canes, compose the whole of their household furniture. Most of them
wear a knife of the Bechuana manufactory, in a case slung round their
necks, with a small leather bag, or the shell of a tortoise, in which
is the pipe, the tobacco and the flint for striking fire.
“They have no fixed habitation, but often move from one place to
another, always carrying with them, as is the custom among the other
tribes, the staves and mats of which their huts are built. All their
goods and chattels are packed together within a very small compass on
the back of the patient ox; and thus a whole Koran village is struck
and in full march in a few moments. Their form of government is the
same as with the other Hottentot tribes; the richest person in the
kraal is the captain or provost; he is the leader of the party, and
the spokesman on all occasions, without deriving from this office
any judicial right over the rest. His authority is exceedingly
circumscribed, and no one considers himself as wholly bound to yield
obedience to him, neither does he himself ever pretend to command them.
Only in case of being obliged to defend themselves against a foreign
enemy he is the first, because, being the richest, he suffers most from
the attack.
“Plurality of wives is not contrary to their institutions; yet I
never heard of anybody who had more than one wife. They are by nature
good-tempered; but they are indolent, and do not take any great
interest for others; less cunning than the Hottentot, therefore easy
to be deceived in trafficking with them; and, from their simplicity,
easily won to any purpose by the attraction of strong liquors, tobacco,
and the like luxuries.”
On the next page is an illustration of a Koranna chief dressed as
described by Lichtenstein. The kaross worn by the individual from whom
the portrait was taken was so plentifully bedaubed with red earth and
grease, that it left traces of his presence wherever he went, and,
if the wearer happened to lean against anything, he caused a stain
which could not easily be removed. Suspended to his neck is seen the
all-pervading Bechuana knife, and exactly in front is the shell of a
small tortoise, in which he kept his snuff.
The leathern cap is universal among them as among other Hottentots, and
as the fur is retained, it can be put on with some degree of taste,
as may be seen by reference to the portrait. The use of sibilo is
common among the Korannas, and, like other Hottentot tribes, the women
load their hair so thickly with this substance, that they appear to
be wearing a metal cap. Their language is full of clicks, but not so
thickly studded with them as that of the Hottentots, and in a short
time any person who understands the ordinary Hottentot dialect will be
able to learn that of the Korannas.
[Illustration: (1.) KORANNA CHIEF. (See page 270.)]
[Illustration: (2.) SHOOTING AT THE STORM. (See page 276.)]
These tribes have a dance which is very similar to that of Bosjesmans,
a drum being used, made of a joint of aloe over which an undressed
sheepskin is stretched. The women sit on the ground in a circle, with
their arms stretched toward the dancer, and singing a song very much
resembling the “Aye-O” of the Bosjesmans. The dancer leans against two
sticks, as if they were crutches, twines his arms around his body, and
sways himself backward and forward, bending first toward one of the
women, and then toward another, until he loses his balance, and as he
falls is caught in the outstretched arms of the woman who happens to
be nearest to him. Of course, she falls on the ground with the shock,
and as soon as they can rise to their feet he resumes his place in the
circle, replaces the sticks under his arms, and dances with renewed
vigor, while she takes her seat again, in order to catch him if he
should happen to fall again in her direction.
The women, by the way, are liable to that extraordinary conformation
which has already been mentioned when treating of the Hottentot, and to
European eyes their beauty is not increased by it, though a native sees
nothing remarkable in it. It is a curious fact that this development
should occur in the country which produces an analogous formation in
the sheep, whose bodies are thin and meagre, but whose tails are of
enormous size, and little but masses of pure fat.
Their names are, as far as can be ascertained, nicknames, given to them
on account of any remarkable incident that may have happened to them,
and, in consequence, variable from day to day.
Mr. Moffatt, speaking as a missionary, has a very high opinion of
the Koranna tribe. He found them docile, good-tempered, and not only
willing, but impatiently desirous of gaining knowledge. After preaching
and attending the sick all day, in the evening he began to teach some
of the younger Korannas the rudiments of learning, when some of the
principal men heard of the proceeding, and insisted on being taught
also. The whole scene which followed was very amusing.
“It was now late, and both mind and body were jaded, but nothing would
satisfy them; I must teach them also. After a search, I found among
some waste paper a large sheet alphabet with a corner and two letters
torn off. This was laid on the ground, when all knelt in a circle
round it, and of course the letters were viewed by some just upside
down. I commenced pointing with a stick, and, when I pronounced one
letter, all hallooed out to some purpose. When I remarked that perhaps
we might manage with somewhat less noise, one replied that he was sure
the louder he roared, the sooner would his tongue get accustomed to the
‘seeds,’ as he called the letters.
“As it was growing late, I rose to straighten my back, which was
beginning to tire, when I observed some young folks coming dancing
and skipping toward me, who, without any ceremony, seized hold of
me. ‘Oh! teach us the A B C with music!’ every one cried, giving me
no time to tell them it was too late. I found they had made this
discovery through one of my boys. There were presently a dozen or more
surrounding me, and resistance was out of the question. Dragged and
pushed, I entered one of the largest native houses, which was instantly
crowded. The tune of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ was pitched to A B C, each
succeeding round was joined by succeeding voices until every tongue
was vocal, and every countenance beamed with heartfelt satisfaction.
The longer the song, the more freedom was felt, and ‘Auld Lang Syne’
was echoed to the farthest end of the village. The strains which
inspire pleasurable emotions into the sons of the North were no less
potent among the children of the South. Those who had retired to their
evening’s slumber, supposing that we were holding a night service,
came; for music, it is said, charms the savage ear. It certainly does,
particularly the natives of Southern Africa, who, however degraded they
may have become, still retain that refinement of taste which enables
them to appreciate those tunes which are distinguished by melody and
softness.
“After two hours’ singing and puffing, I obtained permission, though
with some difficulty of consent, and greater of egress, to leave them,
now comparatively proficient. It was between two and three in the
morning. Worn out in mind and body, I laid myself down in my wagon,
cap and shoes and all, just to have a few hours’ sleep preparatory to
departure on the coming day. As the ‘music-hall’ was not far from my
pillow, there was little chance of sleeping soundly, for the young
amateurs seemed unwearied, and A B C to ‘Auld Lang Syne’ went on till
I was ready to wish it at John o’ Groat’s House. The company at length
dispersed, and, awaking in the morning after a brief repose, I was
not a little surprised to hear the old tune in every corner of the
village. The maids milking the cows, and the boys tending the calves,
were humming the alphabet over again.” Perhaps this fine old tune may
be incorporated into Koranna melodies, just as the story of “Jane Eyre”
has taken a place among Arab tales.
During this sojourn among the Korannas, Mr. Moffatt observed a singular
instance of retentive memory. He had just finished a sermon, and was
explaining portions of it to groups of hearers, when his attention
was attracted by a young man who was holding forth to a crowd of
attentive hearers. On approaching the spot, he was more than surprised
to find that this young man was preaching the sermon second-hand to
his audience, and, more than this, was reproducing, with astonishing
fidelity, not only the words of a discourse which he had heard but
once, but even the gestures of the speaker. When complimented on his
wonderful powers of memory, he did not seem at all flattered, but
only touched his forehead with his finger, saying, that when he heard
anything great, there it remained. This remarkable youth died soon
afterward, having been previously converted to Christianity. When
preaching, he presented a singular, not to say grotesque appearance,
being dressed in part of one leg of a quondam pair of trousers, a cap
made of the skin stripped from a zebra’s head, with the ears still
attached, and some equally fantastic ornament about his neck. The
contrast between the wild figure and the solemnity of the subject,
which he was teaching with much earnestness, was most remarkable.
It has been mentioned that Mr. Moffatt was engaged in attending upon
the sick. This is an invariable part of a missionary’s duties, as the
natives have unbounded faith in the medicinal powers of all white men,
and naturally think that those who come to heal their souls must know
how to heal their bodies. Fortunately, their faith makes them excellent
patients, and is in itself the best cure for affections of a nervous
character, to which all men seem liable, no matter what may be the
color of their skin. They are passionately desirous of medicine, and it
is impossible to mix a draught that can be too nauseous for them; in
fact, the more distasteful it is, the greater they think its efficacy.
On one occasion, a woman came for some medicine for her husband who
was ill, and two very little doses were given her, one to be taken at
sunset and the other at midnight. However, she settled that point by
immediately taking both draughts herself, stating that it would equally
benefit her husband whether he or she happened to take it.
* * * * *
The termination of the word Namaquas shows that it is a Hottentot
term, and consequently that the people who bear that name belong to
the Hottentot nation. The suffix Qua is analogous among the Hottentots
to the prefix Ama among the Kaffir tribes, and signifies “men.” Thus
the terms Namaqua, Griqua, Koraqua, Gonaqua, &c., signify that those
tribes are branches of the Hottentot nation. Namaquas themselves,
however, prefer to be called by the name of Oerlam, a word of uncertain
derivation.
The Namaquas, unlike the Korannas, can be referred to a totally
distinct locality, their habitation being a large tract of country on
the southwest coast of Africa, lying north of the Orange River, or
Gariep, and being called from its inhabitants Great Namaqua-land. It
is a wild and strange country--dry, barren and rugged, and therefore
with a very thinly scattered population, always suffering from want
of water, and at times seeming as parched as their own land. For
several consecutive years it often happens that no rain falls in a
large district, and the beds of the streams and rivers are as dry as
the plains. Under these circumstances, the natives haunt the dried
water-courses, and, by sinking deep holes in their beds, contrive to
procure a scanty and precarious supply of water at the cost of very
great labor. Sometimes these wells are dug to the depth of twenty feet,
and even when the water is obtained at the expense of so much labor,
it is in comparatively small quantities, and of very inferior quality.
Branches of trees are placed in these pits by way of ladders, and by
their means the Namaquas hand up the water in wooden pails, first
filling their own water-vessels, and then supplying their cattle by
pouring the water into a trough. This scene is always an animated one,
the cattle, half mad with thirst, bellowing with impatience, crowding
round the trough, and thrusting one another aside to partake of its
contents. A similar scene takes place if a water-hole is discovered
on the march. A strong guard, mostly of women, is placed round the
precious spot, or the cattle would certainly rush into it in their
eagerness to drink what water they could get, and trample the rest into
undrinkable mud.
In this strange country, the only supplies of rain are by
thunderstorms, and, much as the natives dread the lightning, they
welcome the distant rumble of the thunder, and look anxiously for its
increasing loudness. These thunderstorms are of terrific violence
when they break over a tract of country, and in a few hours the dry
watercourses are converted into rushing torrents, and the whole country
for a time rejoices in abundant moisture. The effect on vegetation is
wonderful. Seed that have been lying in the parched ground waiting
in vain for the vivifying moisture spring at once into life, and,
aided by the united influence of a burning sun and moist ground, they
spring up with marvellous rapidity. These storms are almost invariably
very partial, falling only on a limited strip of country, so that the
traveller passes almost at a step out of a barren and parched country,
with scarcely a blade of grass or a leaf of herbage, into a green tract
as luxuriant as an English meadow.
The geological formation is mostly granite, and the glittering quartz
crystals are scattered so profusely over the surface, that a traveller
who is obliged to pursue his journey at noon can scarcely open his
eyes sufficiently to see his way, so dazzling are the rays reflected
on every side. In many parts the ground is impregnated with nitre,
which forms a salt-like incrustation, and crumbles under the feet, so
that vegetation is scarcely possible, even in the vicinity of water.
There seem to be few inhabited lands which are more depressing to the
traveller, and which cause more wonder that human beings can be found
who can endure for their whole lives its manifold discomforts. Yet they
appear to be happy enough in their own strange way, and it is very
likely that they would not exchange their dry and barren land for the
most fertile country in the world.
The euphorbia best flourishes in the ravines, but, from its poisonous
nature, adds little to the comfort of the traveller. Even the honey
which the wild bees deposit in the rocks is tainted with the poison of
the euphorbia flowers, and, if eaten, causes most painful sensations.
The throat first begins to feel as if cayenne-pepper had been
incautiously swallowed, and the burning heat soon spreads and becomes
almost intolerable. Even in a cool country its inward heat would be
nearly unendurable, but in such a place as Namaqua-land, what the
torture must be can scarcely be conceived. Water seems to aggravate
instead of allaying the pain, and the symptoms do not go off until
after the lapse of several days.
On account of their privations, which they are constantly obliged to
endure, the inhabitants are, as a rule, almost hopelessly ignorant,
and without the martial spirit which distinguishes so many tribes
which inhabit Southern Africa. Still, the celebrated chief, Africaner,
contrived to make good soldiers out of the Namaquas, and under his
leadership they made his name dreaded throughout a large portion of
South-western Africa. He revolutionized the ordinary system of warfare,
which consisted in getting behind bushes and shooting arrows at each
other, by which much time was consumed and little harm done, and boldly
led his men on at the run, driving his astonished antagonists out of
their sheltering places. In this way he subdued the neighboring tribes,
especially the Damaras, who looked upon him as a sort of wild beast in
human form.
Not only did he fight against native enemies, but matched himself
successfully against the Dutch Boers, in this case having recourse to
stratagem when he knew he could not succeed by open force in face of
such an enemy. On one occasion, when the Dutch forces had made a raid
on Africaner’s territory, and carried off all his cows, he pursued
them, swam a river at dead of night, fell upon the unsuspecting enemy
as they slept, killed numbers of them, and recovered all his own
cattle, together with those belonging to the assailants. It will be
seen therefore that the military spirit is not wanting in the Namaqua
character, but that it merely slumbers for want of some one to awake it.
In former days they may possibly have been a warlike nation, inasmuch
as they possessed rather peculiar weapons, namely, the bow and arrow,
and an enormous shield made of the entire skin of an ox, folded singly.
They also used the assagai, but in the present day civilization has
so far penetrated among them that the only weapon which they use is
the gun, and it is many years since a Namaqua has been seen with the
ancient weapons of his nation.
Like other Hottentots, the Namaquas are fond of wearing European
apparel, and, as usual in such cases, look very bad in it. The men
are merely transformed from respectable savages into disreputable
vagabonds, and to them it is not so very unsuitable, but to the women
it is peculiarly so, owing to the odd manner in which they paint their
faces. A girl, dressed in her little skin apron and ornamented with
coils of leathern thongs, may paint her face as much as she pleases
without appearing grotesque. But nothing can look more ridiculous than
a girl in a striped cotton dress, with a red handkerchief round her
head, and the outlines of her cheeks, nose, and eyelids defined with
broad stripes of blue paint. The costume of the men resembles that of
the women, _minus_ the skin apron, the place of which is taken by the
ends of the leathern thongs. The Namaquas are very fond of bead-work,
and display some taste in their designs. They are not contented with
buying glass beads from Europe, but manufacture those ornaments
themselves. The mode of manufacture is simple enough. A resinous gum
is procured, moistened thoroughly, and kneaded with charcoal. It is
then rolled between the hands into long cylinders, which are cut up
into small pieces, and again rolled until a tolerably spherical shape
is obtained. They also have a great love for glittering ornaments made
of metal, and decorate themselves profusely with native jewelry, made
of polished iron, brass, and copper. They also tattoo their skins, and
make great use of the buchu perfume.
As the Namaquas have not been accustomed to exercise their minds on any
subject except those immediately connected with themselves, it is found
very difficult to drive any new ideas into their heads. Some writers
say that many of them have no names, and not a single one has the least
idea of his own age, or of counting time by years. Indeed, counting at
all is an intellectual exertion that is positively painful to them,
and a man who knows the number of his fingers is scarcely to be found
among them. Such statements are often the result of ignorance, not of
the savages, but of their visitors, who must needs live among them for
years, and be thoroughly acquainted with their language, before they
can venture to generalize in so sweeping a fashion. Mr. Moffatt, who
did live among the Namaquas, and knew their language intimately, says
that he never knew a man who had not a name, and that mere children are
able to count beyond the number ten.
Of religion they appear to have but the faintest glimmering, and it
is more than suspected that even their rude and imperfect ideas on
the subject are corruptions of information obtained from Europeans.
Superstitions they have in plenty, some of them resembling those which
are held by the tribes which have already been mentioned.
Their idea of the coming of death into the world is one of these odd
notions. It seems that in former days, when men were first made, the
hare had no cleft in its lip. The moon sent a hare to the newly created
beings with this message: “As I die, and am born again, so you shall
die and be born again.” The hare, however, delivered the message
wrongly, “As I die and am not born again, so you shall die and not be
born again.” The moon, angry at the hare’s disobedience, threw a stick
at it as it fled away from his wrath, and split its lip open. From
that time the hare has a cleft lip, and is always running away. In
consequence of this legend, the Namaquas will not eat the hare. They
have such a horror of it, that if a man should happen even to touch a
fire at which a hare has been cooked he is banished from his community,
and not readmitted until he has paid a fine.
During the terrible thunderstorms which occasionally pass over the
country, the Namaquas are in great dread of the lightning, and shoot
their poisoned arrows at the clouds in order to drive it away. This is
illustrated on page 271. As may be imagined, there is no small danger
in this performance, and a man has been killed by the lightning flash,
which was attracted by his pointed arrow. Other tribes have a similar
custom, being in the habit of throwing stones or other objects at the
clouds.
As far as can be ascertained, their only notion of a supreme being
is one who is the author of death and inflicter of pain, and one
consequently whom they fear, but cannot love. Still, all statements of
this nature made by savages must be received with very great caution,
owing to the invincible repugnance which they feel toward revealing
any portion of their religious system. They will rather state anything
than the truth, and will either invent a series of imaginative stories
on the spur of the moment, or say whatever they think is likely to
please their interrogator. Even if they are converted to Christianity,
sufficient of the old nature remains to render them averse to speaking
on their former superstition, and they will mostly fence with the
question or evade it rather than tell the whole truth.
Being superstitious, they have, of course, sorcerers in plenty. Besides
the usual pretensions of such personages, they claim the power of
voluntary transmigration, and their followers implicitly believe that
they can assume the form of any beast which they choose to select. They
fancy, however, that their own sorcerers or witch doctors share this
power with the Bosjesman race. Mr. Anderson quotes the following legend
in support of this statement. “Once on a time a certain Namaqua was
travelling in company with a Bushwoman carrying a child on her back.
They had proceeded some distance on their journey when a troop of wild
horses (zebras) appeared, and the man said to the woman, ‘I am hungry,
and as I know you can turn yourself into a lion, do so now, and catch
us a wild horse that we may eat.’ The woman answered, ‘You will be
afraid.’
“‘No, no.’ said the man, ‘I am afraid of dying of hunger, but not of
you.’
“Whilst he was speaking, hair began to appear at the back of the
woman’s neck, her nails assumed the appearance of claws, and her
features altered. She set down the child. The man, alarmed at the
change, climbed up a tree close by, while the woman glared at him
fearfully; and, going to one side, she threw off her skin petticoat,
when a perfect lion rushed out into the plain. It bounded and crept
among the bushes toward the wild horses, and, springing on one of
them, it fell, and the lion lapped its blood. The lion then came back
to the place where the child was crying, and the man called from the
tree, ‘Enough! enough! Do not hurt me. Put off your lion’s shape. I
will never ask to see this again.’ The lion looked at him and growled.
‘I’ll remain here till I die!’ exclaimed the man, ‘if you do not become
a woman again.’ The mane and tail began to disappear, the lion went
toward the bush where the skin petticoat lay; it was slipped on, and
the woman in her proper shape took up the child. The man descended,
partook of the horse’s flesh, but never again asked the woman to catch
game for him.”
Their notions about the two chief luminaries seem rather variable,
though there is certainly a connecting link between them. One account
was, that the sun was made of people living in the sea, who cut it in
pieces every night, fried the fragments, put them together again, and
sent it afresh on its journey through the sky. Another story, as told
to Mr. Anderson, is to the effect that the sun is a huge lump of pure
fat, and that, when it sinks below the waves, it is seized by the chief
of a white man’s ship, who cuts off a piece of it, and then gives it a
kick which throws it into the sky again. It is evident that this story
has at all events received some modification in recent times.
As to worship, the Namaquas seem to have little idea of it. They are
very much afraid of a bad spirit, but have no conception of a good
one, and therefore have no worship. Of praise they have not the least
conception. So far are they from feeling gratitude to a supreme being,
that their language does not possess a word or a phrase by which they
can express their thanks to their fellow creatures. Some travellers who
have lived among them say that they not only do not express, but do not
feel gratitude, nor feel kindness, and that, although they will feign
friendship for a superior in order to get what they can from him, they
will desert him as soon as he can give no more, and ridicule him for
his credulity. In short, “they possess every vice of savages, and none
of their noble qualities.” This, however, seems rather too sweeping
an assertion, especially as it is contradicted by others of equal
experience, and we may therefore calculate that the Namaqua Hottentot
is, in his wild state, neither worse nor better than the generality of
savages, and that higher, feelings cannot be expected of him until they
have been implanted in him by contact with a higher race.
Rain-making is practised by Namaqua witch doctors, as well as by the
prophets of the Kaffir tribes, and the whole process is very similar,
deriving all its efficacy from the amount of the fee which the operator
receives. These men also practise the art of healing, and really
exercise no small amount of ingenuity. They have a theory, and, like
theorists in general, they make their practice yield to their theory,
which is, that the disease has insinuated itself into the patient in
the guise of some small reptile, and must be expelled. They seem to
be clever conjurers, for they perform the task of exorcism with such
ingenuity that they have deceived, not only the credulous, but the
sharper gaze of Europeans.
One such performance was witnessed by a Dutchman, who fully believed
that the operation was a genuine one. A sheep was killed as soon as the
doctor arrived, and the sinews of the back rolled up and made into a
kind of pill, which was administered to the patient, the rest of the
animal being the fee of the doctor. The mysterious pill was then left
for a day or two to transform the disease into a visible shape, so that
it could be removed before the eyes of the spectators. On the return
of the doctor, he solemnly cut some little holes in the stomach of the
patient, from which there issued, first a small snake, then a lizard,
and then a whole series of smaller creatures. As is the case among the
Kaffirs, the richer a patient is, the larger is the animal required for
the production of the sacred pill. If he be a man of no particular
consequence, a goat or a sheep will work the charm, while, if he should
happen to be a chief, not a disease will condescend to assume bodily
form unless instigated by an ox or a cow.
The witch doctors have another theory of disease, namely, that a great
snake has shot an invisible arrow into the sufferer. Of course, this
ailment has to be treated in a similar manner. The reader may perhaps
call to mind the very similar superstition which once prevailed in
England, namely, that cattle were sometimes shot with fairy arrows,
which had to be extracted by the force of counter-charms. The great
panacea for diseases is, however, a sort of charm which requires
several years for its production, and which has the property of
becoming more powerful every year. When a man is initiated into the
mysteries of the art, he puts on a cap, which he wears continually.
In the course of time it becomes saturated with grease, and is in a
terribly filthy condition. Not until then is it thought to possess
healing properties; but when it is in such a state that no one with
ordinary feelings of cleanliness would touch it, the hidden virtues are
supposed to be developed. The mode of administering the remedy is by
washing a little portion of the cap, and giving the patient the water
to drink. One of the chiefs, named Amral, assured Mr. Anderson that he
possessed a cap of this kind, which was absolutely infallible, he would
not use it unless every other remedy failed, but, whenever he did so,
the cure was certain.
The Namaquas have great faith in amulets and charms of various kinds,
the strangest of which is a rather curious one. When a chief dies,
cattle are sacrificed, in order to furnish a great feast. One of the
sons of the deceased succeeds his father in the chieftainship, and,
in recognition of his new rank, the fat and other choice portions are
brought to him as they had been to his father in his lifetime. The
young chief places the fat on his head, and allows it to remain there
until the fat has been melted out of it by the sun’s rays, and only
the enclosing membrane remains, dry and shrivelled. This is thought to
be a powerful charm, and is held in great estimation. The reader will
notice the fact that there seems to be in the mind of the Namaquas some
connection between the head and the power of charming.
On the tombs of chiefs the Namaquas have a habit of flinging stones,
each throwing one stone upon it whenever he passes by. Why they do
so, they either cannot or will not tell--probably the latter; but in
process of time, the heap attains a considerable size. This is the only
superstition which gives any indication of their belief in a future
life, for they have a kind of dim notion about an invisible but potent
being, whom they name Heitjeebib, or Heitjekobib, who, they think,
is able to grant or withhold prosperity. Spirit though he be, they
localize him in the tombs, and the casting of stones has probably some
reference to him.
Like other savage nations, they have certain ceremonies when their
youth attain manhood, and at that time the youth is instructed in the
precepts which are to govern his life for the future. These are rather
of a negative than a positive nature, and two very important enactments
are, that he must never eat the hare, and must cease from sucking the
goats. The latter injunction requires a little explanation. As long
as the Namaquas are children, they are accustomed to visit the female
goats, drive away the kids, and take their place. This, however, is
considered to be essentially a childish occupation, to be abandoned
forever when the boy seeks to be admitted among the men.
As far as is known, there are few, if any, matrimonial ceremonies among
the Namaqua Hottentots. When a man wishes to marry any particular
woman, he goes to her parents and simply demands her. If the demand
is acceded to, an ox is killed outside the door of the bride’s house,
and she then goes home to her new husband. Polygamy is permitted among
this people, and, as is the case in other countries, has its drawbacks
as well as its advantages. In a country where the whole of the manual
labor is performed by the women, such a state is necessary, each woman
being a sort of domestic servant, and in no sense the equal companion
of the man. Its drawbacks may be summed up in the word “jealousy,” that
being a failing to which the Namaqua women are very subject, and which
generally finds its vent in blows. If a man becomes tired of his wife,
he needs no divorce court, but simply cuts the conjugal knot by sending
the woman back to her family. She has no redress; and, however much she
and her parents may object to the proceeding, they cannot prohibit it.
In peaceful arts they have some skill, especially in training oxen.
This is a difficult process, and is managed with great care. The young
animal is first induced to step into the noose of a rope which is laid
on the ground, and, as soon as it has done so, a number of men seize
the other end of the rope, and, in spite of his struggles, hold the
animal tightly. Sometimes the infuriated animal charges at them, and
in that case they let go the rope and scatter in all directions, only
to renew their hold when the fury of the animal is exhausted. Another
rope is then thrown over his horns, and by sharply pulling this and his
tail, and at the same time jerking his leg off the ground, the trainers
force the animal to fall. His head is then held on the ground, and a
sharp stick thrust through his nostrils, a tough leathern thong being
then attached to each end of the stick, and acting as a bridle.
The more an ox struggles and fights, the more docile he becomes
afterward, and the more is he valued, while an ox which is sulky,
especially if he lies down and declines to rise, is never of much use.
Loads, carefully graduated, are then fastened on his back, beginning
with a simple skin or empty bag, and ending with the full burden which
an ox is supposed to carry. The hide rope with which the burden is
lashed on the back of the ox is often one hundred and fifty feet in
length, and consequently passes round and round the body of the animal.
The chief difficulty is, to train an ox that will act as leader. The
ox is naturally a gregarious animal, and when he is associated with
his fellows, he never likes to walk for any distance unless there is a
leader whom he can follow. In a state of nature the leader would be the
strongest bull, but in captivity he finds that all are very much alike
in point of strength, while their combative powers have been too much
repressed to allow any one animal to fight his way to the leadership.
Very few oxen have the qualities which enable them to be trained as
leaders, but the Namaquas, who have excellent eyes for the chief points
of an ox, always select for this purpose the animals of lightest build
and most sprightly look, so that they may keep their followers at a
brisk pace when on the march. Their activity would naturally induce
them to keep ahead of their companions, so that the Namaquas merely
assist nature when they select such animals to serve as leaders.
The dreadful practice of abandoning the aged prevails in Namaqua-land.
A slight fence is built round the unfortunate victim of so cruel a
custom, who is then abandoned, having been furnished with a little
food, fire, and water, which are destined to play the part of the
bread and water placed in the tomb of an offending vestal. Travellers
through this country sometimes come upon the remains of a small fence,
within which are a heap of ashes, the remains of a water vessel, and
a heap of whitened bones, and they know that these are the memorials
of an old Namaqua who has been left to perish with hunger and thirst.
Such persons must be very old when they succumb to such a death, for
some have been known to live to the age of ninety, and now and then a
centenarian is found.
It is hardly credible, though true, that the Namaquas are so used to
this parricidal custom that they look at it with indifference. They
expect no other fate if they themselves should happen to live until
they are so old as to be an incumbrance to their people, and the
strangest thing is the acquiescence with which those who are thus
abandoned resign themselves to their fate. Mr. Moffatt mentions an
instance where an old woman, whom he found in a most pitiable state of
suffering, refused to be taken away by him and fed. It was the custom
of the tribe, she said; she was already nearly dead, and did not want
to die twice.
Their amusements are so similar to those which have already been
mentioned that there is no need to describe them separately. As to
work, the men do little or nothing, preferring to lounge about in the
sun for days together, and will sit half dead with hunger and thirst,
rather than take the trouble to go and look for food and water. They
have an odd way of comparing a man who works with the worms of the
ground, and that comparison is thought to be a sufficient reason why a
man should not work.
One very curious custom prevails among the Namaquas. Those who visit
them are expected to adopt a father and mother, and the newly-made
relations are supposed to have their property in common. This is
probably a native practice, but the Namaquas have had no scruple in
extending it to Europeans, finding that in such cases a community of
goods becomes rather a lucrative speculation.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE BECHUANAS.
THEIR NAME AND LANGUAGE -- THEIR DRESS -- SKILL IN THE ARTS OF PEACE
-- THE BECHUANA KNIFE -- SKILL IN CARVING -- THE BECHUANA ASSAGAI,
OR “KOVEH” -- INGENIOUS BELLOWS -- A METAL APRON -- DRESS OF THE
WOMEN, AND THEIR FONDNESS FOR METALLIC ORNAMENTS -- CHARACTER OF THE
BECHUANAS -- THEIR TENDENCY TOWARD LYING AND THIEVING -- DISREGARD
FOR HUMAN LIFE -- REDEEMING QUALITIES OF THE BECHUANAS -- MODE OF
GOVERNMENT -- THE NATIVE PARLIAMENT -- MR. MOFFAT’S ACCOUNT OF A
DEBATE -- CUSTOMS AFTER BATTLE -- THE ORDER OF THE SCAR, AND MODE OF
CONFERRING IT -- A DISAPPOINTED WARRIOR -- AN UNPLEASANT CEREMONY --
MODE OF MAKING WAR -- THE BECHUANA BATTLE-AXE.
We now leave the Hottentot race, and take a passing glance at the
appearance of a few other tribes. Chief among these is the very large
tribe called by the name of Bechuana, which includes a considerable
number of sub-tribes. Just as the Hottentot names are recognized by the
affix Qua, so are the Bechuanas by the prefix Ba. Thus, the Bakwains,
Barolongs, Batlapis, and Bahurotsi, all belong to the great Bechuana
tribe. It is rather curious that in this language prefixes are used
where suffixes, or even separate words, might be expected. Thus, a man
will speak of himself as Mochuana, _i. e._ a Chuana man; the tribe is
called Bechuana, _i. e._ the Chuana men, and they speak Sichuana, _i.
e._ the Chuana language. Nearly every syllable ends with a vowel, which
gives the language a softness of pronunciation hardly to be expected in
such a country. The love of euphony among the Bechuana tribes causes
them to be very indifferent about substituting one letter for another,
provided that by so doing a greater softness of pronunciation can be
obtained.
In appearance they are a fine race of men, in some respects similar to
the Kaffirs, with whom they have many customs in common. Their dress
is not very remarkable, except that they are perhaps the best dressers
of skins that are to be found in Africa, the pliancy of the skin and
the neatness of the sewing being unrivalled. They are good workers in
metal, and supply many of the surrounding tribes both with ornaments
and weapons.
Perhaps the Bechuana knife is the most common of all the implements
made by this ingenious tribe. The general form of this knife may
be seen from the two figures in the engraving No. 2, opposite, one
of which was taken from a specimen in my own collection. It is ten
inches in length inclusive of the handle, and the blade, which is
double-edged, is nearly flat, being a little thicker along the middle
than at the edges. In fact, it is simply a spear-head inserted into
a handle. The sheath is made of two pieces of wood, hollowed just
sufficiently to receive the blade tightly, and then lashed firmly
together with sinews. On one side of the sheath a kind of loop is
carved out of the solid wood, through which the wearer can pass the
string by which he hangs it to his neck.
The ordinary forms are simply a handle, sheath, and blade, all without
any ornament, but the ingenious smith often adds a considerable amount
of decoration. One favorite mode of doing so is to make the handle
of ivory, and carve it into the form of some animal. My own specimen
represents a hyæna, and, in spite of the rudeness of the sculpture,
no naturalist could possibly mistake the animal for which it is
intended. The handle is often cut into the form of the hippopotamus or
the giraffe, and in all cases the character of the animal is hit off
exactly by the native carver. Along the sheath is generally a pattern
of some nature, and in many instances it is really of an artistic
character, worthy to be transferred to European weapons. A thong of
leather passes along the opposite side of the sheath, and is attached
by the same sinews which bind the two halves of the sheath together.
All the Hottentot and Bosjesman tribes use this peculiar knife, as do
sundry other inhabitants of Southern Africa. They always suspend it to
their necks, and use it for a variety of purposes, the chief of which
is cutting up meat when they are fortunate enough to procure any.
[Illustration: (1.) KNIFE AND ASSAGAI HEADS. (See page 283.)]
[Illustration: (2.) BECHUANA KNIVES.
(see page 280.)]
[Illustration: (3.) APRON. (See page 283.)]
[Illustration: (4.) ORNAMENTS MADE OF MONKEYS’ TEETH. (See page 284.)]
The carved work of the knife, sheath, and handle is, however, not
done with this kind of knife, but with one which has a very short
blade and a tolerably long handle. One of these knives is shown in the
illustration No. 1 on page 281, and in this instance the handle is made
of the end of an antelope’s horn. With this simple instrument are cut
the various patterns with which the Bechuanas are so fond of decorating
their bowls, spoons, and other articles of daily use, and with it are
carved the giraffes, hyænas, and other animals, which serve as hilts
for their dagger-knives, and handles to their spoons.
Sometimes the bowls of the spoons are covered on the outside with
carved patterns of a singularly artistic character, some of them
recalling to the spectator the ornaments on old Etruscan vases. They
have a way of bringing out the pattern by charring either the plain
surface or the incised pattern, so that in the one case the pattern is
white on a black ground, and sometimes _vice versâ_. The pattern is
generally a modification of the zigzag, but there are many instances
where curved lines are used without a single angle in them, and when
the curves are traced with equal truth and freedom.
One of the best specimens of Bechuana art is a kind of assagai which
they forge, and which is equally to be praised for its ingenuity and
execrated for its abominable cruelty. Two forms of this dreadful weapon
are given in figs. 1 and 2 in the same engraving. The upper figure
shows the entire head of the assagai and parts of the shaft, while the
other are representations of the barbs on a larger scale. On examining
one of these weapons carefully, it is seen that the neck of the assagai
has first been forged square, and then that the double barbs have been
made by cutting diagonally into the metal and turning up the barbs
thus obtained. This is very clear with the upper assagai, and is still
better seen in the enlarged figure of the same weapon. But the other is
peculiarly ingenious, and exhibits an amount of metallurgic skill which
could hardly be expected among savage nations.
These assagais bear a curious resemblance to some arrows which are
made in Central Africa. Indeed, the resemblance is so great, that
an arrow if enlarged would serve admirably as an assagai. This
resemblance--unknown to Mr. Burchell--confirms his idea that the art
of making these weapons came from more northern tribes.
The use to which these terrible weapons are put is, of course, to
produce certain death, as it is impossible that the assagai can be
either drawn out of the wound, or removed by being pushed through it,
as done with other barbed weapons. As, however, the temporary loss of
the weapon is necessarily involved in such a case, the natives do not
use it except on special occasions. The native name for it is “kóveh,”
and it is popularly called the “assagai of torture.” It is generally
used by being thrust down the throat of the victim--generally a
captured chief--who is then left to perish miserably.
The bellows used by the Bechuana blacksmith are singularly ingenious.
In all the skin bellows used by the natives of Southern Africa there
is one radical defect, namely, the want of a valve. In consequence of
this want the bellows cannot be worked quickly, as they would draw the
fire, or, at all events, suck the heated air into their interior, and
so destroy the skin of which they are made. The Bechuana, however,
contrives to avoid this difficulty. The usual mode of making a bellows
is to skin a goat, then sew up the skin, so as to make a bag, insert
a pipe--usually a horn one--into one of the legs, and then use it by
alternately inflating and compressing the bag.
Bellows of this kind can be seen in the illustration No. 2 on page 97.
The Bechuana smith, however, does not use a closed bag, but cuts it
completely open on one side, and on either side of the slit he fastens
a straight stick. It is evident that by separating these sticks he can
admit the air into the bag without drawing the fire into the tube,
and that when he wants to eject the air, he has only to press the
sticks together. This ingenious succedaneum for a valve allows the
smith to work the bellows as fast as his hands can move them, and, in
consequence, he can produce a much fiercer heat than can be obtained by
the ordinary plan.
On the 281st page the reader may find an engraving that illustrates
the skill with which they can work in metals. It is a woman’s apron,
about a foot square, formed of a piece of leather entirely covered
with beads. But, instead of using ordinary glass beads, the maker
has preferred those made of metal. The greater part of the apron is
formed of iron beads, but those which produce the pattern are made of
brass, and when worn the owner took a pride in keeping the brass beads
polished as brilliantly as possible. In shape and general principle of
structure, this apron bears a close resemblance to that which is shown
in “Articles of costume,” on page 33, fig. 2. This specimen is in the
collection of Col. Lane Fox.
In the same collection is an ornament ingeniously made from the spoils
of slain monkeys. A part of the upper jaw, containing the incisive and
canine teeth, has been cut off, cleaned, and dried. A whole row of
these jaws has then been sewed on a strip of leather, each overlapping
its predecessor, so as to form a continuous band of glittering white
teeth.
As to dress, the Bechuanas, as a rule, use more covering than many of
the surrounding tribes. The women especially wear several aprons. The
first is made of thongs, like those of the Kaffirs, and over that is
generally one of skin. As she can afford it she adds others, but always
contrives to have the outside apron decorated with beads or other
adornments.
This series of aprons, however, is all that a Bechuana woman considers
necessary in the way of dress, the kaross being adopted merely as a
defence against the weather, and not from any idea that covering to
the body is needed for the purpose of delicacy. In figure they are
not so prepossessing as many of the surrounding tribes, being usually
short, stout, and clumsy, which latter defect is rendered still more
conspicuous by the quantities of beads which they hang in heavy coils
round their waists and necks, and the multitude of metal rings with
which they load their arms and ankles. They even load their hair as
much as possible, drawing it out into a series of little twists, and
dressing them so copiously with grease and sibilo, that at a few
yards they look as if their heads were covered with a cap composed of
metallic tags, and at a greater distance as if they were wearing bands
of polished steel on their heads.
They consider a plentiful smearing of grease and red ochre to be the
very acme of a fashionable toilet, and think that washing the body
is a disgusting custom. Women are the smokers of the tribe, the men
preferring snuff, and rather despising the pipe as a woman’s implement.
The Bechuanas can hardly be selected as examples of good moral
character. No one who knows them can believe a word that they say, and
they will steal everything that they can carry. They are singularly
accomplished thieves, and the habit of stealing is so ingrained in
their nature, that if a man is detected in the very act he feels
not the least shame, but rather takes blame to himself for being so
inexpert as to be found out. Small articles they steal in the most
ingenious manner. Should it be hanging up, they contrive to handle it
carelessly and let it fall on the ground, and then they begin active
operations. Standing near the coveted article, and trying to look as
if they were not aware of its existence, they quietly scrape a hole in
the sand with one of their feet, push the object of their desire into
the hole, cover it up again with sand, and smooth the surface so as to
leave no trace that the ground has been disturbed.
They steal each other’s goods, whenever they can find an opportunity,
but they are only too glad to find an opportunity of exercising their
art on a white man, whose property is sure to be worth stealing. A
traveller in their country has therefore a hard life, for he knows that
there is not a single article in his possession which will not vanish
if he leaves it unguarded for a few minutes. Indeed, as Mr. Baines well
observes, there is not an honest nerve or fibre in a Bechuana’s body;
from the root of his tongue to the tips of his toes, every muscle is
thoroughly trained in the art of thieving. If they merely sit near an
article of moderate size, when they move off it moves with them, in a
manner that no wearer of trousers can conceive. Even Mr. Moffatt, who
had a singular capacity for discovering good qualities which had lain
latent and unsuspected, writes in very forcible terms respecting the
utter dishonesty of the Bechuanas:--
“Some nights, or rather mornings, we had to record thefts committed in
the course of twenty-four hours, in our houses, our smith-shop, our
garden, and among our cattle in the field. These they have more than
once driven into a bog or mire, at a late hour informing us of the
accident, as they termed it; and, as it was then too dark to render
assistance, one or more would fall a prey to the hyænas or hungry
natives. One night they entered our cattle-fold, killed one of our
best draught oxen, and carried the whole away, except one shoulder.
We were compelled to use much meat, from the great scarcity of grain
and vegetables; our sheep we had to purchase at a distance, and very
thankful might we be if out of twenty we secured the largest half for
ourselves. They would break their legs, cut off their tails, and more
frequently carry off the whole carcass.
“Tools, such as saws, axes, and adzes, were losses severely felt, as
we could not at that time replace them, when there was no intercourse
whatever with the colony. Some of our tools and utensils which they
stole, on finding the metal not what they expected, they would bring
back beaten into all shapes, and offer them in exchange for some other
article of value. Knives were always eagerly coveted; our metal spoons
they melted; and when we were supplied with plated iron ones, which
they found not so pliable, they supposed them bewitched. Very often,
when employed working at a distance from the house, if there was no one
in whom he could confide, the missionary would be compelled to carry
them all to the place where he went to seek a draught of water, well
knowing that if they were left they would take wings before he could
return.
“The following ludicrous circumstance once happened, and was related
to the writer by a native in graphic style. Two men had succeeded in
stealing an iron pot. Having just taken it from the fire, it was rather
warm for handing conveniently over a fence, and by doing so it fell
on a stone, and was cracked. ‘It is iron,’ said they, and off they
went with their booty, resolving to make the best of it: that is, if
it would not serve for cooking, they would transform it into knives
and spears. After some time had elapsed, and the hue and cry about the
missing pot had nearly died away, it was brought forth to a native
smith, who had laid in a stock of charcoal for the occasion. The pot
was further broken to make it more convenient to lay hold of with the
tongs, which are generally made of the bark of a tree. The native
Vulcan, unacquainted with cast iron, having with his small bellows, one
in each hand, produced a good heat, drew a piece from the fire. To his
utter amazement, it flew into pieces at the first stroke of his little
hammer. Another and another piece was brought under the action of the
fire, and then under the hammer, with no better success. Both the thief
and the smith, gazing with eyes and mouth dilated on the fragments of
iron scattered round the stone anvil, declared their belief that the
pot was bewitched, and concluded pot-stealing to be a bad speculation.”
To the thieving propensities of these people there was no end. They
would peep into the rude hut that was used for a church, in order to
see who was preaching, and would then go off to the preacher’s house,
and rob it at their ease. When the missionaries, at the expense of
great labor, made a series of irrigating canals, for the purpose of
watering their gardens, the women would slyly cut the banks of the
channels, and divert the water. They even broke down the dam which led
the water from the river, merely for the sake of depriving somebody of
something; and when, in spite of all their drawbacks, some vegetables
had been grown, the crops were stolen, even though a constant watch
was kept over them. These accomplished thieves have even been known
to steal meat out of the pot in which it was being boiled, having
also the insolence to substitute a stone for the pilfered meat. One
traveller found that all his followers were so continually robbed by
the Bechuanas, that at last he ceased from endeavoring to discover
the thieves, and threatened instead to punish any man who allowed an
article to be stolen from him. They do not even spare their own chief,
and would rob him with as little compunction as if he were a foreigner.
Dr. Lichtenstein, who certainly had a better opinion of the Bechuanas
than they deserved, was once cheated by them in a very ingenious
manner. He had purchased three ivory rings with some tobacco, but when
he left the place he found that the same ring had been sold to him
three successive times, the natives behind him having picked his pocket
with the dexterity of a London thief, and then passed the ring to their
companions to be again offered for sale.
Altogether, the character of the Bechuanas does not seem to be an
agreeable one, and even the missionaries who have gone among them, and
naturally are inclined to look on the best side of their wild flocks,
have very little to say in their favor, and plenty to say against
them. They seem to be as heartless toward the infirm and aged as the
Namaquas, and if one of their number is ill or wounded, so that he
cannot wait upon himself, he is carried outside the camp, and there
left until he recovers or dies. A small and frail hut is built for him,
a portion of food is given to him daily, and in the evening a fire is
made, and fuel placed near so that it may be kept up. On one occasion
the son of a chief was wounded by a buffalo, and, according to ancient
custom, was taken out of the camp. The fire happened to go out, and in
consequence a lion came and carried off the wounded man in the night.
It was once thought that this cruel custom arose from the fear of
infection, but this is evidently not the case, as persons afflicted
with infectious diseases are not disturbed as long as they can help
themselves. Superstition may probably be the true reason for it.
They have but little regard for human life, especially for that of
a woman, and a husband may kill his wife if he likes, without any
particular notice being taken of it. One traveller mentions that a
husband became angry with his wife about some trifling matter, seized
his assagai, and killed her on the spot. The body was dragged out by
the heels, and thrown into the bush to be devoured by the hyænas, and
there was an end of the whole business. The traveller, being horrified
by such an action, laid an information before the chief, and was only
laughed at for his pains, the chief thinking that for any one to be
shocked at so ordinary an occurrence was a very good joke.
Still, the Bechuana has his redeeming qualities. They are not
quarrelsome, and Burchell remarks that, during all the time which
he spent among them, he never saw two men openly quarrelling, nor
any public breach of decorum. They are persevering and industrious
in the arts of peace, and, as has been seen, learn to work in iron
and to carve wood with a skill that can only be attained by long
and careful practice. They are more attached to the soil than many
of the neighboring tribes, cultivating it carefully, and in this
art far surpassing the Kaffirs. Their houses, too, are of elaborate
construction, and built with a care and solidity which show that the
inhabitants are not nomads, but residents on one spot.
The government of the Bechuanas is primarily monarchical, but not
entirely despotic. The king has his own way in most matters, but his
chiefs can always exercise a check upon him by summoning a parliament,
or “Picho,” as it is called. The Picho affords a truly wild and
picturesque spectacle. The artist has illustrated this on page 287. The
warriors, in their full panoply of war, seat themselves in a circle, in
the midst of which is the chair of the king. The various speakers take
their turns at addressing the assembly, and speak with the greatest
freedom, not even sparing the king himself, but publicly arraigning
him for any shortcomings, real or fancied, and sometimes gaining their
point. As to the king himself, he generally opens the parliament with a
few sentences, and then remains silent until all the speeches have been
delivered. He then answers those that have been made against himself,
and becomes greatly excited, leaping about the ring, brandishing his
spear and shield, and lashing himself into an almost frantic state.
This is the usual procedure among savages, and the more excited that a
man becomes, the better he is supposed to speak afterward.
An extract from Mr. Moffatt’s account of a Picho will give a good idea
of the proceedings:--“Although the whole exhibits a very grotesque
scene, business is carried on with the most perfect order. There is but
little cheering, and still less hissing, while every speaker fearlessly
states his own sentiments. The audience is seated on the ground (as
represented in the engraving), each man having before him his shield,
to which is attached a number of spears. A quiver containing poisoned
arrows is hung from the shoulder, and a battle-axe is held in the right
hand. Many were adorned with tiger-skins and tails, and had plumes of
feathers waving on their heads. In the centre a sufficient space was
left for the privileged--those who had killed an enemy in battle--to
dance and sing, in which they exhibited the most violent and fantastic
gestures conceivable, which drew forth from the spectators the most
clamorous applause.
“When they retire to their seats, the speaker commences by commanding
silence. ‘Be silent, ye Batlapis, be silent, ye Barolongs,’ addressing
each tribe distinctly, not excepting the white people, if any happen to
be present, and to which each responds with a groan. He then takes from
his shield a spear, and points it in the direction in which the enemy
is advancing, imprecating a curse upon them, and thus declaring war by
repeatedly thrusting his spear in that direction, as if plunging it
into an enemy. This receives a loud whistling sound of applause. He
next directs his spear toward the Bushman country, south and southwest,
imprecating also a curse on those ‘ox-eaters,’ as they are called.
“The king, on this, as on all similar occasions, introduced the
business of the day by ‘Ye sons of Molchabanque’--viewing all the
influential men present as the friends or allies of his kingdom, which
rose to more than its former eminence under the reign of that monarch,
his father--‘the Mantatees are a strong and victorious people; they
have overwhelmed many nations, and they are approaching to destroy us.
We have been apprised of their manners, their deeds, their weapons,
and their intentions. We cannot stand against the Mantatees; we must
now concert, conclude, and be determined to stand. The case is a great
one.... I now wait to hear what the general opinion is. Let every one
speak his mind, and then I shall speak again.’ Mothibi manœuvred his
spear as at the commencement, and then pointing it toward heaven, the
audience shouted, ‘Pula’ (rain), on which he sat down amidst a din of
applause. Between each speaker a part or verse of a war-song is sung,
the same antics are then performed, and again universal silence is
commanded....
“When several speakers had delivered their sentiments, chiefly
exhorting to unanimity and courage, Mothibi resumed his central
position, and, after the usual gesticulations, commanded silence.
Having noticed some remarks of the preceding speakers, he added: ‘It
is evident that the best plan is to proceed against the enemy, that
they come no nearer. Let not our towns be the seat of war; let not our
houses be the scenes of bloodshed and destruction. No! let the blood of
the enemy be spilt at a distance from our wives and children.’ Turning
to the aged chief, he said: ‘I hear you, my father; I understand you,
my father; your words are true, they are good for the ear; it is good
that we be instructed by the Makoöas; I wish those evil who will not
obey; I wish that they may be broken in pieces.’
“Then addressing the warriors, ‘There are many of you who do not
deserve to eat out of a bowl, but only out of a broken pot; think on
what has been said, and obey without murmuring. I command you, ye
chiefs of the Batlapis, Batlares, Bamairis. Barolongs, and Bakotus,
that you acquaint all your tribes of the proceedings of this day;
let none be ignorant; I say again, ye warriors, prepare for the
battle; let your shields be strong, your quivers full of arrows, and
your battle-axes as sharp as hunger.... Be silent, ye kidney-eaters’
(addressing the old men), ‘ye are of no farther use but to hang about
for kidneys when an ox is slaughtered. If your oxen are taken, where
will you get any more?’ Turning to the women, he said, ‘Prevent not
the warrior from going out to battle by your cunning insinuations. No,
rouse the warrior to glory, and he will return with honorable scars,
fresh marks of valor will cover his thighs, and we shall then renew
the war song and dance, and relate the story of our conquest.’ At the
conclusion of this speech the air was rent with acclamations, the whole
assembly occasionally joining in the dance; the women frequently taking
the weapons from the hands of the men and brandishing them in the most
violent manner, people of all ages using the most extravagant and
frantic gestures for nearly two hours.”
[Illustration: (1.) BECHUANA PARLIAMENT. (See page 286.)]
[Illustration: (2.) FEMALE ARCHITECTS. (See page 298.)]
In explanation of the strange word, “kidney-eaters,” the reader must be
made aware that kidneys are eaten only by the old of both sexes. Young
people will not taste them on any account, from the superstitious idea
that they can have no children if they do so. The word of applause,
“pula,” or rain, is used metaphorically to signify that the words of
the speaker are to the hearers like rain on a thirsty soil.
In the last few lines of the king’s speech, mention is made of the
“honorable scars upon the thighs.” He is here alluding to a curious
practice among the Bechuanas. After a battle, those who have killed
an enemy assemble by night, and, after exhibiting the trophies of
their prowess, each goes to the prophet or priest, who takes a sharp
assagai and makes a long cut from the hip to the knee. One of these
cuts is made for each enemy that has been slain, and some distinguished
warriors have their legs absolutely striped with scars. As the wound
is a tolerably deep one, and as ashes are plentifully rubbed into it,
the scar remains for life, and is more conspicuous than it would be in
an European, leaving a white track upon the dark skin. In spite of the
severity of the wound, all the successful warriors join in a dance,
which is kept up all night, and only terminates at sunrise. No one is
allowed to make the cut for himself, and any one who did so would at
once be detected by the jealous eyes of his companions. Moreover, in
order to substantiate his claim, each warrior is obliged to produce his
trophy--a small piece of flesh with the skin attached, cut from the
body of his foe.
When the ceremony of investiture with the Order of the Scar takes
place, a large fire is made, and around it is built a low fence, inside
which no one may pass except the priest and those who can show a
trophy. On the outside of the fence are congregated the women and all
the men who have not been fortunate enough to distinguish themselves.
One by one the warriors advance to the priest, show the trophy, have it
approved, and then take their place round the fire. Each man then lays
the trophy on the glowing coals, and, when it is thoroughly roasted,
eats it. This custom arises from a notion that the courage of the
slain warrior then passes into the body of the man who killed him, and
aids also in making him invulnerable. The Bechuanas do not like this
custom, but, on the contrary, view it with nearly as much abhorrence as
Europeans can do, only yielding to it from a desire not to controvert
the ancient custom of their nation.
It may well be imagined that this ceremony incites the warriors, both
old and young, to distinguish themselves in battle, in order that
they may have the right of entering the sacred fence, and be publicly
invested with the honorable scar of valor. On one such occasion, a
man who was well known for his courage could not succeed in killing
any of the enemy, because their numbers were so comparatively small
that all had been killed before he could reach them. At night he was
almost beside himself with anger and mortification, and positively
wept with rage at being excluded from the sacred enclosure. At last
he sprang away from the place, ran at full speed to his house, killed
one of his own servants, and returned to the spot, bringing with him
the requisite passport of admittance. In this act he was held to be
perfectly justified, because the slain man was a captive taken in war,
and therefore, according to Bechuanan ideas, his life belonged to his
master, and could be taken whenever it might be more useful to him than
the living slave.
In war, the Bechuanas are but cruel enemies, killing the wounded
without mercy, and even butchering the inoffensive women and children.
The desire to possess the coveted trophy of success is probably the
cause of their ruthlessness. In some divisions of the Bechuana tribes,
such as the Bachapins, the successful warriors do not eat the trophy,
but dry it and hang it round their necks, eating instead a portion of
the liver of the slain man. In all cases, however, it seems that some
part of the enemy has to be eaten.
The weapons used in war are not at all like those which are employed
by the Kaffirs. The Bechuanan shield is much smaller than that of the
Kaffirs, and on each side a semi-circular piece of leather is cut out.
The reader may remember that in the Kaffir shield, as may be seen by
the illustration, page 21, there is a slight depression on each side.
In the Bechuanan shield, however, this depression is scooped out so
deeply that the shield is almost like an hour-glass in shape. The
assagai, which has already been described, is not intended to be used
as a missile, but as a weapon for hand-to-hand combat. Indeed, the
amount of labor which is bestowed upon it renders it too valuable to be
flung at an enemy, who might avoid the blow, and then seize the spear
and keep it.
The Bechuanas have one weapon which is very effective at close
quarters. This is the battle-axe. Various as are the shapes of the
heads, they are all made on one principle, and, in fact, an axe is
nothing more than an enlarged spear-head fixed transversely on the
handle. The ordinary battle-axes have their heads fastened to wooden
handles, but the best examples have the handles made of rhinoceros horn.
A remarkably fine specimen of these battle-axes is now before me. It is
simply a knob-kerrie made of rhinoceros horn, through the knob of which
the shank of the head has been passed. The object of this construction
is twofold. In the first place, the increased thickness of the handle
prevents, in a great measure, the liability to split when a severe
blow is struck; and, secondly, the increased weight adds force to the
stroke. In some of these axes the knob at the end of the handle seems
disproportionately large. The axe is carried, together with the shield,
in the left hand, while the right is at liberty to hold the assagai.
But, if the warrior is driven to close quarters, or if his spear should
be broken, he snatches the axe from the shield, and is then armed anew.
CHAPTER XXIX.
BECHUANAS--_Concluded_.
RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION -- A NATIVE CONJURER, AND HIS DEXTERITY --
CURING A SICK MAN -- THE MAGIC DICE -- AMULETS -- SPARTAN PRACTICES
-- THE GIRL’S ORDEAL -- A SINGULAR PRIVILEGE -- FOOD OF THE BECHUANAS
-- THE MILK-BAG -- MUSIC AND DANCING -- THE REED PIPE, OR LICHAKA --
THE BECHUANAN DANCE -- REMARKABLE CAP WORN BY THE PERFORMERS -- THE
SUBSTITUTE FOR A HANDKERCHIEF -- ARCHITECTURE OF THE BECHUANAS, AND
ITS ELABORATE CHARACTER -- CONSTRUCTION OF THE HOUSES -- CONCENTRIC
MODE OF BUILDING -- MR. BAINES’S VISIT TO A BECHUANA CHIEF -- BURIAL
OF THE DEAD, AND ATTENDANT CEREMONIES.
Of religion the Bechuanas know nothing, though they have plenty of
superstition, and are as utter slaves to their witch doctors as can
well be conceived. The life of one of these personages is full of
danger. He practises his arts with the full knowledge that if he should
fail, death is nearly certain to be the result. Indeed, it is very
seldom that a witch doctor, especially if he should happen to be also a
rain-maker, dies a natural death, he generally falling a victim to the
clubs of his quondam followers.
These men evidently practise the art of conjuring, as we understand
the word, and they can perform their tricks with great dexterity. One
of these men exhibited several of his performances to Mr. Baines, and
displayed no small ingenuity in the magic art. His first trick was to
empty, or to appear to empty, a skin bag and an old hat, and then to
shake the bag over the hat, when a piece of meat or hide fell from
the former into the latter. Another performance was to tie up a bead
necklace in a wisp of grass, and hand it to one of the white spectators
to burn. He then passed the bag to the most incredulous of the
spectators, allowed him to feel it and prove that it was empty, while
the hat was being examined by Mr. Baines and a friend. Calling out to
the holder of the bag, he pretended to throw something through the air,
and, when the bag was duly shaken, out fell the beads into the hat.
This was really a clever trick, and, though any of my readers who have
some practical acquaintance with the art of legerdemain can see how it
was done, it is not a little surprising to see such dexterity possessed
by a savage. The success of this trick was the more remarkable because
the holder of the bag had rather unfairly tried to balk the performer.
On a subsequent occasion, however, the conjurer attempted the same
trick, varying it by requesting that the beads should be broken instead
of burned. The holder of the beads took the precaution of marking them
with ink before breaking them, and in consequence all the drumming
of the conjurer could not reproduce them until after dark, when
another string of beads, precisely similar in appearance, was found
under the wagon. Being pressed on the subject, the conjurer admitted
that they were not the same beads, but said that they had been sent
supernaturally to replace those which had been broken.
The same operator was tolerably clever at tricks with cord, but had
to confess that a nautical education conferred advantages in that
respect to which his supernatural powers were obliged to yield. He
once invited Mr. Baines to see him exhibit his skill in the evening.
“A circle of girls and women now surrounded the wizard, and commenced
a pleasing but monotonous chant, clapping their hands in unison, while
he, seated alternately on a carved stool and on a slender piece of
reed covered with a skin to prevent its hurting him, kept time for the
hand-clapping, and seemed trying to work himself up to the required
state of inspiration, till his whole flesh quivered like that of a
person in the ague.
“A few preparatory anointings of the joints of all his limbs, his
breast and forehead, as well as those of his choristers, followed;
shrill whistlings were interchanged with spasmodic gestures, and now
I found that the exhibition of the evening was a _bonâ fide_ medical
operation on the person of a man who lay covered with skins outside
of the circle. The posterior portion of the thigh was chosen for
scarification, but, as the fire gave no light in that direction,
and the doctor and the relatives seemed not to like my touching the
patient, I did not ascertain how deep the incisions were made. Most
probably, from the scars I have seen of former operations of the kind,
they were merely deep enough to draw blood.
“The singing and hand-clapping now grew more vehement, the doctor threw
himself upon the patient, perhaps sucked the wound, at all events
pretended to inhale the disease. Strong convulsions seized him, and, as
he was a man of powerful frame, it required no little strength to hold
him. At length, with upturned eyes and face expressive of suffocation,
he seized his knife, and, thrusting it into his mouth, took out a large
piece apparently of hide or flesh, which his admiring audience supposed
him to have previously drawn from the body of the patient, thus
removing the cause of the disease.”
[Illustration: MAGIC DICE.]
Sometimes the Bechuana doctor uses a sort of dice, if such a term may
be used when speaking of objects totally unlike the dice which are
used in this country. In form they are pyramidal, and are cut from
the cloven hoof of a small antelope. These articles do not look very
valuable, but they are held in the highest estimation, inasmuch as very
few know how to prepare them, and they are handed down from father
to son through successive generations. The older they are, the more
powerful are they supposed to be, and a man who is fortunate enough to
possess them can scarcely be induced to part with them. Those which are
depicted in the illustration are taken from specimens that were, after
a vast amount of bargaining, purchased by Dr. Lichtenstein, at the
price of an ox for each die.
These magic dice are used when the proprietor wishes to know the result
of some undertaking. He smooths a piece of ground with his hand, holds
the die between his fingers, moves his hands up and down several
times, and then allows them to fall. He then scans them carefully, and
judges from their position what they foretell. The reader may remember
the instance where a Kaffir prophet used the magic necklace for the
same purpose, and in a similar manner. The characters or figures
described on the surface have evidently some meaning, but what their
signification was the former possessor either did not know, or did not
choose to communicate.
The children, when they first begin to trouble themselves and their
parents by the process of teething, are often furnished with a kind of
amulet. It is made of a large African beetle, called scientifically
_Brachycerus apterus_. A number of them are killed, dried, and then
strung on leathern thongs, so as to be worn round the neck. These
objects have been mistaken for whistles. The Bechuanas have great
faith in their powers when used for teething, and think that they are
efficacious in preventing various infantine disorders.
Like the Kaffirs, the Bechuanas make use of certain religious
ceremonies before they go to war. One of these rites consists in
laying a charm on the cattle, so that they shall not be seized by the
enemy. The oxen are brought singly to the priest, if we may so call
him, who is furnished with a pot of black paint, and a jackal’s tail
by way of a brush. With this primitive brush he makes a certain mark
upon the hind leg of the animal, while at the same time an assistant,
who kneels behind him, repeats the mark in miniature upon his back
or arms. To this ceremony they attribute great value; and, as war is
almost invariably made for the sake of cattle, the Bechuanas may well
be excused for employing any rite which they fancy will protect such
valued possessions.
Among one branch of the Bechuana tribe, a very remarkable ceremony is
observed when the boys seek to be admitted into the rank of men. The
details are kept very secret, but a few of the particulars have been
discovered. Dr. Livingstone, for example, happened once to witness the
second stage of the ceremonies, which last for a considerable time.
[Illustration: (1.) SPARTAN PRACTICE. (See page 295.)]
[Illustration: (2.) THE GIRLS’ ORDEAL. (See page 295.)]
A number of boys, about fourteen years of age, without a vestige of
clothing, stood in a row, and opposite those was an equal number of
men, each having in his hand a long switch cut from a bush belonging
to the genus Grewia, and called in the native language moretloa. The
twigs of this bush are very strong, tough, and supple. Both the men and
boys were engaged in an odd kind of dance, called “koha,” which the men
evidently enjoyed, and the boys had to look as if they enjoyed it too.
Each boy was furnished with a pair of the ordinary hide sandals, which
he wore on his hands instead of his feet. At stated intervals, the men
put certain questions to the boys, respecting their future life when
admitted into the society of men. For example:--
“Will you herd the cattle well?” asks the man.
“I will,” answers the boy, at the same time lifting his sandalled
hands over his head. The man then leaps forward, and with his full
force strikes at the boy’s head. The blow is received on the uplifted
sandals, but the elasticity of the long switch causes it to curl over
the boy’s head with such force that a deep gash is made in his back,
some twelve or eighteen inches in length, from which the blood spirts
as if it were made with a knife. Ever afterward, the lesson that he is
to guard the cattle is supposed to be indelibly impressed on the boy’s
mind.
Then comes another question, “Will you guard the chief well?”
“I will,” replies the boy, and another stroke impresses that lesson
on the boy’s mind. And thus they proceed, until the whole series of
questions has been asked and properly answered. The worst part of the
proceeding is, that the boys are obliged, under penalty of rejection,
to continue their dance, to look pleased and happy, and not to wince
at the terrible strokes which cover their bodies with blood, and seam
their backs with scars that last throughout their lifetime. Painful
as this ordeal must be, the reader must not think that it is nearly
so formidable to the Bechuanas as it would be to Europeans. In the
first place, the nervous system of an European is far more sensitive
than that of South African natives, and injuries which would lay him
prostrate have but little effect upon them. Moreover, their skin, from
constant exposure to the elements, is singularly insensible, so that
the stripes do not inflict a tenth part of the pain that they would if
suffered by an European.
Only the older men are allowed to take part in this mode of instruction
of the boys, and if any man should attempt it who is not qualified, he
is unpleasantly reminded of his presumption by receiving on his own
back the stripes which he intended to inflict on the boys, the old
men being in such a case simultaneously judges and executioners. No
elevation of rank will allow a man to thus transgress with impunity;
and on one occasion, Sekomi himself, the chief of the tribe, received a
severe blow on the leg from one of his own people. This kind of ordeal,
called the Sechu, is only practised among three tribes, one of which is
the Bamangwato, of which Sekomi was the chief. The reader will probably
see by the description that the ceremony is rather of a civil than a
religious character. It is illustrated on the previous page. The other
stage of the rite, which is called by the general name of Boguera, is
also of a secular character.
It takes place every six or seven years, so that a large number of boys
are collected. These are divided into bands, each of which is under the
command of one of the sons of the chief, and each member is supposed to
be a companion of his leader for life. They are taken into the woods
by the old men, where they reside for some time, and where, to judge
from their scarred and seamed backs, their residence does not appear
to be of the most agreeable description. When they have passed through
the different stages of the boguera, each band becomes a regiment or
“mopato,” and goes by its own name.
According to Dr. Livingstone, “they recognize a sort of equality and
partial communion afterward, and address each other by the name of
Molekane, or comrade. In cases of offence against their rules, as
eating alone when any of their comrades are within call, or in cases
of dereliction of duty, they may strike one another, or any member of
a younger mopato, but never one of an older band; and, when three or
four companies have been made, the oldest no longer takes the field in
time of war, but remains as a guard over the women and children. When
a fugitive comes to a tribe, he is directed to the mopato analogous to
that to which in his own tribe he belongs, and does duty as a member.”
The girls have to pass an ordeal of a somewhat similar character before
they are admitted among the women, and can hope to attain the summit
of an African girl’s hopes, namely, to be married. If possible, the
details of the ceremony are kept even more strictly secret than is the
case with the boys, but a part of it necessarily takes place in public,
and is therefore well known. It is finely illustrated in the engraving
No. 2, on previous page.
The girls are commanded by an old and experienced woman, always a
stern and determined personage, who carries them off into the woods,
and there instructs them in all the many arts which they will have to
practise when married. Clad in a strange costume, composed of ropes
made of melon-seeds and bits of quill, the ropes being passed over both
shoulders and across their bodies in a figure-of-eight position, they
are drilled into walking with large pots of water on their heads. Wells
are purposely chosen which are at a considerable distance, in order to
inure the girls to fatigue, and the monitress always chooses the most
inclement days for sending them to the greatest distance. They have
to carry heavy loads of wood, to handle agricultural tools, to build
houses, and, in fact, to practise before marriage those tasks which
are sure to fall to their lot afterward. Capability of enduring pain is
also insisted upon, and the monitress tests their powers by scorching
their arms with burning charcoal. Of course, all these severe labors
require that the hands should be hard and horny, and accordingly, the
last test which the girls have to endure is holding in the hand for a
certain time a piece of hot iron.
Rough and rude as this school of instruction may be, its purport is
judicious enough; inasmuch as when the girls are married, and enter
upon their new duties, they do so with a full and practical knowledge
of them, and so escape the punishment which they would assuredly
receive if they were to fail in their tasks. The name of the ceremony
is called “Bogale.” During the time that it lasts, the girls enjoy
several privileges, one of which is highly prized. If a boy who has
not passed through his ordeal should come in their way, he is at once
pounced upon, and held down by some, while others bring a supply of
thorn-branches, and beat him severely with this unpleasant rod. Should
they be in sufficient numbers, they are not very particular whether
the trespasser be protected by the boguera or not; and instances have
been known when they have captured adult men, and disciplined them so
severely that they bore the scars ever afterward.
In their feeding they are not particularly cleanly, turning meat
about on the fire with their fingers, and then rubbing their hands on
their bodies, for the sake of the fat which adheres to them. Boiling,
however, is the usual mode of cooking; and when eating it, they place
a lump of meat in the mouth, seize it with the teeth, hold it in the
left hand so as to stretch it as far as possible, and then, with a neat
upward stroke of a knife or spear head, cut off the required morsel.
This odd mode of eating meat may be found among the Abyssinians and the
Esquimaux, and in each case it is a marvel how the men avoid cutting
off their noses.
The following is a description of one of the milk bags. It is made
from the skin of some large animal, such as an ox or a zebra, and is
rather more than two feet in length, and one in width. It is formed
from a tough piece of hide, which is cut to the proper shape, and then
turned over and sewed, the seams being particularly firm and strong.
The hide of the quagga is said to be the best, as it gives to the milk
a peculiar flavor, which is admired by the natives. The skin is taken
from the back of the animal, that being the strongest part. It is first
stretched on the ground with wooden pegs, and the hair scraped off
with an adze. It is then cut to the proper shape, and soaked in water
until soft enough to be worked. Even with care, these bags are rather
perishable articles; and, when used for water, they do not last so
long as when they are employed for milk. A rather large opening is left
at the top, and a small one at the bottom, both of which are closed
by conical plugs. Through the upper orifice the milk is poured into
the bag in a fresh state, and removed when coagulated; and through the
lower aperture the whey is drawn off as wanted. As is the case with
the Kaffir milk baskets, the Bechuana milk bags are never cleaned, a
small amount of sour milk being always left in them, so as to aid in
coagulating the milk, which the natives never drink in a fresh state.
When travelling, the Bechuanas hang their milk bags on the backs of
oxen; and it sometimes happens that the jolting of the oxen, and
consequent shaking of the bag, causes the milk to be partially churned,
so that small pieces of butter are found floating in it. The butter is
very highly valued; but it is not eaten, being reserved for the more
important office of greasing the hair or skin.
The spoons which the Bechuanas use are often carved in the most
elaborate manner. In general shape they resemble those used by the
Kaffirs--who, by the way, sometimes purchase better articles from the
Bechuanas--but the under surface of the bowl is entirely covered with
designs, which are always effective, and in many cases are absolutely
artistic from the boldness and simplicity of the designs. I have
several of these spoons, in all of which the surface has first been
charred and polished, and then the pattern cut rather deeply, so as to
leave yellowish-white lines in bold contrast with the jetty black of
the uncut portion. Sometimes it happens that, when they are travelling,
and have no spoons with them, the Bechuanas rapidly scoop up their
broth in the right hand, throw it into the palm of the left, and then
fling it into the mouth, taking care to lick the hands clean after the
operation.
Music is practised by the Bechuana tribes, who do not use the goura,
but merely employ a kind of reed pipe. The tunes that are played upon
this instrument are of a severely simple character, being limited to
a single note, repeated as often as the performer chooses to play it.
A very good imitation of Bechuanan instrumental music may be obtained
by taking a penny whistle, and blowing it at intervals. In default of
a whistle, a key will do quite as well. Vocal music is known better
among the Bechuanas than among the preceding tribes--or, at all events,
is not so utterly opposed to European ideas of the art. The melody
is simple enough, consisting chiefly of descending and ascending by
thirds; and they have a sufficient appreciation of harmony to sing in
two parts without producing the continuous discords which delight the
soul of the Hottentot tribes.
These reed pipes, called “lichâka,” are of various lengths, and are
blown exactly like Pandean pipes, _i. e._ transversely across the
orifice, which is cut with a slight slope. Each individual has one pipe
only, and, as above stated, can only play one note. But the Bechuanas
have enough musical ear to tune their pipes to any required note, which
they do by pushing or withdrawing a movable plug which closes the reed
at the lower end. When a number of men assemble for the purpose of
singing and dancing, they tune their pipes beforehand, taking great
pains in getting the precise note which they want, and being as careful
about it as if they belonged to a European orchestra. The general
effect of these pipes, played together, and with certain intervals, is
by no means inharmonious, and has been rather happily compared to the
sound of sledge or wagon bells. The correct method of holding the pipe
is to place the thumb against the cheek, and the forefinger over the
upper lip, while the other three fingers hold the instrument firmly in
its place. These little instruments run through a scale of some eleven
or twelve notes. The dances of the Bechuanas are somewhat similar to
those of the Amakosa and other Kaffirs; but they have the peculiarity
of using a rather remarkable headdress when they are in full ceremonial
costume. This is made from porcupine quills arranged in a bold and
artistic manner, so as to form a kind of coronet. None of the stiff
and short quills of the porcupine are used for this purpose, but only
the long and slender quills which adorn the neck of the animal, and,
in consequence of their great proportionate length, bend over the back
in graceful curves. These headdresses are worn by the men, who move
themselves about so as to cause the pliant quills to wave backward
and forward, and so contrive to produce a really graceful effect. The
headdress is not considered an essential part of the dance, but is used
on special occasions.
When dancing, they arrange themselves in a ring, all looking inward,
but without troubling themselves about their number or any particular
arrangement. The size of the ring depends entirely upon the number of
dancers, as they press closely together. Each is at liberty to use
any step which he may think proper to invent, and to blow his reed
pipe at any intervals that may seem most agreeable to him. But each
man contrives to move very slowly in a slanting direction, so that
the whole ring revolves on the same spot, making, on an average, one
revolution per minute.
The direction in which it moves seems perfectly indifferent, as at one
time it will revolve from right to left, and then, without any apparent
reason, the motion is reversed. Dancers enter and leave the ring just
as they feel inclined, some of the elders only taking part in the dance
for a few minutes, and others dancing for hours in succession, merely
retiring occasionally to rest their wearied limbs. The dancers scarcely
speak at all when engaged in this absorbing amusement, though they
accompany their reed whistles with native songs. Round the dancers is
an external ring of women and girls, who follow them as they revolve,
and keep time to their movements by clapping their hands.
As is usual in this country, a vast amount of exertion is used in the
dance, and, as a necessary consequence, the dancers are bathed in
perspiration, and further inconvenienced by the melting of the grease
with which their heads and bodies are thickly covered. A handkerchief
would be the natural resort of an European under such circumstances;
but the native of Southern Africa does not possess such an article,
and therefore is obliged to make use of an implement which seems
rather ill adapted for its purpose. It is made from the bushy tail of
jackals, and is prepared as follows: The tails are removed from the
animals, and, while they are yet fresh, the skin is stripped from the
bones, leaving a hollow tube of fur-clad skin. Three or four of these
tails are thus prepared, and through them is thrust a stick, generally
about four feet in length, so that the tail forms a sort of large
and very soft brush. This is used as a handkerchief, not only by the
Bechuanas, but by many of the neighboring tribes, and is thought a
necessary part of a Bechuana’s wardrobe. The stick on which they are
fixed is cut from the very heart of the kameel-dorn acacia, where the
wood is peculiarly hard and black, and a very great amount of labor is
expended on its manufacture. The name of this implement is Kaval-klusi,
or Kaval-pukoli, according to the animal from which it is made; the
“klusi” being apparently the common yellow jackal, and the “pukoli”
the black-tailed jackal. The natives fancy that the jackal possesses
some quality which benefits the sight, and therefore they may often be
seen drawing the kaval-klusi across their eyes. A chief will sometimes
have a far more valuable implement, which he uses for the same purpose.
Instead of being made of mere jackal tails, it is formed from ostrich
feathers.
The remarkable excellence of the Bechuanas in the arts of peace has
already been mentioned. They are not only the best fur-dressers and
metal-workers, but they are preëminent among all the tribes of that
portion of Africa in their architecture. Not being a nomad people, and
being attached to the soil, they have no idea of contenting themselves
with the mat-covered cages of the Hottentots, or with the simple
wattle-and-daub huts of the Kaffirs. They do not merely build huts,
but erect houses, and display an ingenuity in their construction that
is perfectly astonishing. Whence they derived their architectural
knowledge, no one knows. Why the Kaffirs, who are also men of the
soil, should not have learned from their neighbors how to build better
houses, no one can tell. The fact remains, that the Bechuana is simply
supreme in architecture, and there is no neighboring tribe that is even
worthy to be ranked in the second class.
We have already seen that the house of Dingan, the great Kaffir despot,
was exactly like that of any of his subjects, only larger, and the
supporting posts covered with beads. Now a Bechuana of very moderate
rank would be ashamed of such an edifice by way of a residence; and
even the poor--if we may use the word--can build houses for themselves
quite as good as that of Dingan. Instead of being round-topped, like
so many wickerwork ant-hills, as is the case with the Kaffir huts,
the houses of the Bechuanas are conical, and the shape may be roughly
defined by saying that a Bechuana’s hut looks something like a huge
whipping-top with its point upward. The artist has represented them on
page 287.
A man of moderate rank makes his house in the following manner--or,
rather, orders his wives to build it for him, the women being the only
architects. First, a number of posts are cut from the kameel-dorn
acacia-tree, their length varying according to the office which
they have to fulfil. Supposing, for example, that the house had to
be sixteen or twenty feet in diameter, some ten or twelve posts are
needed, which will be about nine feet in height when planted in the
ground. These are placed in a circle and firmly fixed at tolerably
equal distances. Next comes a smaller circle of much smaller posts,
which, when fixed in the ground, measure from fifteen to eighteen feet
in height, one of them being longer than the rest. Both the circles of
posts are connected with beams which are fastened to their tops.
The next process is to lay a sufficient quantity of rafters on these
posts, so that they all meet at one point, and these are tightly lashed
together. This point is seldom in the exact centre, so that the hut
always looks rather lop-sided. A roof made of reeds is then placed upon
the rafters, and the skeleton of the house is complete. The thatch is
held in its place by a number of long and thin twigs, which are bent,
and the end thrust into the thatch. These twigs are set in parallel
rows, and hold the thatch firmly together. The slope of the roof is
rather slight, and is always that of a depressed cone, as may be seen
by reference to the illustration.
Next come the walls. The posts which form the outer circle are
connected with a wall sometimes about six feet high, but frequently
only two feet or so. But the wall which connects the inner circle is
eight or ten feet in height, and sometimes reaches nearly to the roof
of the house. These walls are generally made of the mimosa thorns,
which are so ingeniously woven that the garments of those who pass by
are in no danger, while they effectually prevent even the smallest
animal from creeping through. The inside of the wall is strengthened
as well as smoothed by a thick coating of clay. The family live in the
central compartment of the house, while the servants inhabit the outer
portion, which also serves as a verandah in which the family can sit in
the daytime, and enjoy the double benefit of fresh air and shade.
The engraving gives an idea of the ordinary construction of a Bechuana
hut. Around this house is a tolerably high paling, made in a similar
fashion of posts and thorns, and within this enclosure the cattle are
kept, when their owner is rich enough to build an enclosure for their
especial use. This fence, or wall, as it may properly be called, is
always very firmly built, and sometimes is of very strong construction.
It is on an average six feet high, and is about two feet and a half
wide at the bottom, and a foot or less at the top. It is made almost
entirely of small twigs and branches, placed upright, and nearly
parallel with each other, but so firmly interlaced that they form an
admirable defence against the assagai, while near the bottom the wall
is so strong as to stop an ordinary bullet. A few inches from the top,
the wall is strengthened by a double band of twigs, one band being
outside, and the other in the interior.
The doorways of a Bechuana hut are rather curiously constructed. An
aperture is made in the wall, larger above than below, so as to suit
the shape of a human being, whose shoulders are wider than his feet.
This formation serves two purposes. In the first place it lessens the
size of the aperture, and so diminishes the amount of draught, and, in
the next place, it forms a better defence against an adversary than if
it were of larger size, and reaching to the ground.
The fireplace is situated outside the hut, though within the fence, the
Bechuanas having a very wholesome dread of fire, and being naturally
anxious that their elaborately built houses should not be burned
down. Outside the house, but within the enclosure, is the corn-house.
This is a smaller hut, constructed in much the same manner as the
dwelling-house, and containing the supply of corn. This is kept in
jars, one of which is of prodigious size, and would quite throw into
the shade the celebrated oil jars in which the “Forty Thieves” hid
themselves. There is also a separate house in which the servants sleep.
This corn jar is made of twigs plaited and woven into form, and
strengthened by sticks thrust into the ground, so that it is
irremovable, even if its huge dimensions did not answer that purpose.
The jar is plastered both on the outside and the interior with clay,
so that it forms an admirable protection for the corn. These jars are
sometimes six feet in height and three in width, and their shape almost
exactly resembles that of the oil jars of Europe. The best specimens
are raised six or seven inches from the ground, the stakes which form
their scaffolding answering the purpose of legs. Every house has one
such jar; and in the abode of wealthy persons there is generally one
large jar and a number of smaller ones, all packed together closely,
and sometimes entirely filling the store-house.
As is the case with the Kaffirs, the Bechuanas build their houses and
walls in a circular form, and have no idea of making a wall or a fence
in a straight line. Mr. Burchell accounts for it by suggesting that
they have discovered the greater capacity of a circle compared with any
other figure of equal circumference, and that they make circular houses
and cattle-pens in order to accommodate the greatest number of men or
cattle in the least possible space. I rather doubt the truth of this
theory, because these people cannot build a straight wall or a square
house, even if they wished to do so, and believe that the real cause
must be looked for in their mental conformation.
We will now examine the illustration which exhibits a plan of the
house belonging to a Bechuana chief named Molemmi. It is taken from
Burchell’s valuable work.
[Illustration: PLAN OF HOUSE.]
Encircling the whole is the outer wall, and it will be seen that the
enclosure is divided by means of cross walls, one of which has a
doorway. At the top of the plan is the corn-house, in which is one
large jar and one of the smaller sort. The shaded portion represents
that part of the building which is covered by the roof. The servants’
house is also separate, and may be seen on the right of the plan. The
fireplace is shown by the small circle just below the cross wall on the
right hand of the plan. In the middle is the house itself, with its
verandahs and passages covered by a common roof. In the very centre is
the sleeping-place of the family; immediately outside it is the passage
where the servants sit, and outside it again is the verandah. The
little circles upon the plan represent the places occupied by the posts.
In further explanation of the exceeding care that a Bechuana bestows
on his house, I here give a portion of a letter sent to me by Mr.
T. Baines, the eminent African traveller. “About 1850, while that
which is now the Free State was then the Orange River Sovereignty, my
friend Joseph Macabe and I were lying at Coqui’s Drift on the Vaal (or
Yellow-Dun) River, and, needing corn and other supplies, we spanned-in
the cattle and proceeded to the village. This we found very prettily
situated among bold and tolerably well-wooded hills, against whose
dark sides the conical roofs, thatched with light yellowish reeds,
contrasted advantageously.
“As usual, the tribe was beginning to lay desolate the surrounding
country by recklessly cutting down the wood around their dwellings,
a process by which in many instances they have so denuded the hills
that the little springs that formerly flowed from them are no longer
protected by the overhanging foliage, and are evaporated by the fierce
heat of the sun upon the unsheltered earth. Of this process, old
Lattakoo, the former residence of the missionary Moffatt, is a notable
example, and it is proverbial that whenever a native tribe settles by a
little rivulet, the water in a few years diminishes and dries up.
“The women and children, as usual in villages out of the common path of
travellers, fled half in fear and half in timidity at our approach, and
peeped coyly from behind the fences of mud or reeds as we advanced. We
left our wagon in the outskirts of the village, and near to the centre
found the chief and his principal men seated beneath a massive bower
or awning of rough timber, cut with the most reckless extravagance of
material, and piled in forked trunks still standing in the earth, as if
the design of the builders had been to give the least possible amount
of shade with the greatest expenditure of material.... Most of the
men were employed in the manufacture of karosses or skin cloaks from
the spoils of various animals killed in the chase. Some were braying
or rubbing the skins between the hands to soften them, others were
scraping the inner surface, so as to raise the nap so much prized by
the natives, and others, having cut the skins into shape with their
knives or assagais, were slowly and carefully sewing them together. One
man was tinkling with a piece of stick on the string of a bow, to which
a calabash had been tied in order to increase the resonance, and all
looked busy and happy. Our present of snuff was received with intense
gratification, but very few of them were extravagant enough to inhale
the precious stimulant in its pure state, and generally a small portion
was placed upon the back of the left hand, and then a quantity of dust
was lifted with a small horn spoon, carefully mixed with the snuff, and
inhaled with infinite satisfaction.
“Their habitations were arranged in concentric circles, the outermost
of which encloses a more or less spacious court or yard, fenced either
with tall straight reeds, or with a wall of fine clay, carefully
smoothed and patted up by the hands of the women. It is afterward
covered with transverse lines, the space between which are variously
etched with parallel lines, either straight, waved, or zigzag,
according to fancy. The floor of this court is also smoothed with clay,
and elevations of the same material in the form of segments of a circle
serve for seats, the whole being kept so clean that dry food might be
eaten from the floor without scruple.
“The walls of the hut are also of clay, plastered upon the poles
which support the conical roof, but the eaves project so as to form a
low verandah all around it. Low poles at intervals give this also an
additional support, and a “stoep” or elevation, about nine inches high
and three feet broad, surrounds the house beneath it.
“The doorway is an arch about three feet high. The inside of the wall
is scored and etched into compartments by lines traced with the fingers
or a pointed stick. Sometimes melon or pumpkin seeds are stuck into the
clay in fanciful patterns, and afterward removed, leaving the hollows
lined with their slightly lustrous bark.
“Within this again is another wall, enclosing a still smaller room,
which, in the case of the chief’s hut, was well stored with soft skin
mantles, and, as he said, must have been most agreeably warm as a
sleeping apartment in the cold weather, more especially as the doorway
might be wholly or partially closed at pleasure. Pilasters of clay
were wrought over the doorway, mouldings were run round it, and zigzag
ornaments in charcoal, or in red or yellow clay, were plentifully used.
The circular mouldings seen upon what may be called the ceiling are
really the bands of reeds upon the under side of the roof, by which
those that form the thatch are secured.
“The space between the inner chamber and the outer wall extended
all round the hut, and in it, but rather in the rear, were several
jars and calabashes of outchualla, or native beer, in process of
fermentation. My first impression of this beverage was, that it
resembled a mixture of bad table-beer and spoiled vinegar, but it is
regarded both as food and drink by the natives and travellers who have
become accustomed to it. A host considers that he has fulfilled the
highest duties of hospitality when he has set before his guest a jar
of beer. It is thought an insult to leave any in the vessel, but the
guest may give to his attendants any surplus that remains after he has
satisfied himself.”
The burial of the dead is conducted after a rather curious manner. The
funeral ceremonies actually begin before the sick person is dead, and
must have the effect of hastening dissolution. As soon as the relations
of the sick man see that his end is near, they throw over him a mat, or
sometimes a skin, and draw it together until the enclosed individual
is forced into a sitting, or rather a crouching posture, with the arms
bent, the head bowed, and the knees brought into contact with the chin.
In this uncomfortable position the last spark of life soon expires, and
the actual funeral begins.
The relatives dig a grave, generally within the cattle fence, not
shaped as is the case in Europe, but a mere round hole, about three
feet in diameter. The interior of this strangely shaped grave is then
rubbed with a bulbous root. An opening is then made in the fence
surrounding the house, and the body is carried through it, still
enveloped in the mat, and with a skin thrown over the head. It is then
lowered into the grave, and great pains are taken to place it exactly
facing the north, an operation which consumes much time, but which is
achieved at last with tolerable accuracy.
When they have settled this point to their satisfaction, they bring
fragments of an ant-hill, which, as the reader may remember, is the
best and finest clay that can be procured, and lay it carefully about
the feet of the corpse, over which it is pressed by two men who stand
in the grave for that purpose. More and more clay is handed down in
wooden bowls, and stamped firmly down, the operators raising the mat in
proportion as the earth rises. They take particular care that not even
the smallest pebble shall mix with the earth that surrounds the body,
and, as the clay is quite free from stones, it is the fittest material
for their purpose.
As soon as the earth reaches the mouth, a branch of acacia is placed in
the grave, and some roots of grass laid on the head, so that part of
the grass projects above the level of the ground. The excavated soil
is then scooped up so as to make a small mound, over which is poured
several bowlfuls of water, the spectators meanwhile shouting out,
“Pula! Pula!” as they do when applauding a speaker in the parliament.
The weapons and implements of the deceased are then brought to the
grave, and presented to him, but they are not left there, as is the
case with some tribes. The ceremony ends by the whole party leaving the
ground, amid the lamentations of the women, who keep up a continual
wailing crying.
[Illustration: (1.) BECHUANA FUNERAL. (See page 303.)]
[Illustration: (2.) GRAVE AND MONUMENT OF DAMARA CHIEF. (See page 314.)]
These are the full ceremonials that take place at the death of a
chief,--at all events, of a man of some importance, but they vary
much according to the rank of the individual. Sometimes a rain-maker
has forbidden all sepulchral rites whatever, as interfering with the
production of rain, and during the time of this interdict every corpse
is dragged into the bush to be consumed by the hyænas. Even the very
touch of a dead body is forbidden, and, under this strange tyranny, a
son has been seen to fling a leathern rope round the leg of his dead
mother, drag her body into the bush, and there leave it, throwing down
the rope and abandoning it, because it had been defiled by the contact
of a dead body, and he might happen to touch the part that had touched
the corpse.
The concluding scene in a Bechuana funeral is illustrated on the
previous page.
In the background is seen the fence of the kraal, in which a hole has
been broken, through which the body of the deceased has been carried.
Behind the men who are lowering the body into the grave is a girl
bearing in her hands the branch of acacia which is to be placed on
the head of the corpse--evidently a relic of some tradition long ago
forgotten, or, at all events, of which they profess to be ignorant. At
the side stands the old woman who bears the weapons of the deceased
chief--his spears, axe, and bow--and in the foreground are the bowl of
water for lustration, and the hoes with which the grave has been dug.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE DAMARA TRIBE.
LOCALITY AND ORIGIN OF THE DAMARAS -- DIVISIONS OF THE TRIBE -- THE
RICH AND POOR DAMARAS -- CHARACTER OF THE COUNTRY -- APPEARANCE OF
THE PEOPLE -- THEIR PHYSICAL CONSTITUTION -- MAN’S DRESS -- THE
PECULIAR SANDALS, AND MODE OF ADORNING THE HAIR -- WOMEN’S DRESS --
COSTUME OF THE GIRLS -- PORTRAIT OF A DAMARA GIRL RESTING HERSELF
-- SINGULAR CAP OF THE MARRIED WOMEN -- FASTIDIOUSNESS CONCERNING
DRESS -- CATTLE OF THE DAMARAS -- “CROWING” FOR ROOTS AND WATER
-- ARCHITECTURE AND FURNITURE -- INTELLECT OF THE DAMARAS --
ARITHMETICAL DIFFICULTIES -- WEAPONS -- THE DAMARA AS A SOLDIER --
THE DIFFERENT CASTES OR EANDAS -- FOOD, AND MODE OF COOKING -- DAMARA
DANCES AND MUSIC -- MATRIMONIAL AFFAIRS -- VARIOUS SUPERSTITIONS --
THE SACRED FIRE AND ITS PRIESTESS -- APPARITIONS -- DEATH AND BURIAL
OF A CHIEF -- CEREMONIALS ON THE ACCESSION OF HIS SON -- THE DAMARA
OATH.
If the reader will refer to a map of Africa, and look at the western
coast just below lat. 20° S., he will see that a large portion of the
country is occupied by a people called Damaras, this word being a
euphonious corruption of the word Damup, which signifies “The People.”
Who the Damaras originally were, how long they have occupied the land,
and the place where they originally came from, are rather dubious, and
they themselves can throw no light on the subject.
The tribe is a very interesting one. Once of great power and
importance, it spread over a vast tract of country, and developed its
own peculiar manners and customs, some of which, as will be seen, are
most remarkable. Its day of prosperity was, however, but a short one,
as is the case with most tribes in this part of the world. It has
rapidly sunk from its high estate, has suffered from the attacks of
powerful and relentless enemies, and in a few more years will probably
perish off the face of the earth. So rapid have been the changes, that
one traveller, Mr. Anderssen, remarks that within his own time it has
been his fate to witness the complete ruin and downfall of the once
great Damara nation.
Such being the case, it is my intention to give a brief account of the
tribe, noticing only those peculiarities which serve to distinguish
it from other tribes, and which might in the course of a few years be
altogether forgotten. The account given in the following pages has
been partly taken from Mr. Anderssen’s “Lake Ngami,” partly from Mr.
Galton’s work on Southwestern Africa, and partly from the well-known
book by Mr. Baines, to whom I am also indebted for many sketches, and
much verbal and written information.
As far as can be ascertained, the aborigines were a race called, even
by themselves, the Ghou Damup--a name quite untranslatable to ears
polite, and therefore euphonized by the colonists into Hill Damaras,
though in reality there is no connection between them. The Ghou Damup
say that their great ancestor was a baboon, who married a native lady,
and had a numerous progeny. The union, however, like most unequal
matches, was not a happy one, the mother priding herself on her family,
and twitting her sons with their low connections on the paternal side.
The end of the matter was, that a split took place in the family, the
sons behaving so badly that they dared no longer face their high-born
Hottentot connections, and fled to the hills, where they have ever
since dwelt.
The Damaras may be roughly divided into two bodies, the rich and the
poor, the former being those who possess cattle, and live chiefly on
the milk, and the latter those who have either no cattle, or only one
or two, and who, in consequence, live by the chase and on the wild
roots which they dig. For the Damaras are not an agricultural people,
probably because their soil is not, as a general rule, adapted for the
raising of crops.
The poor Damaras, called Ovatjumba, are looked down upon by the richer
sort, and, in fact, treated as if they were inferior beings. Their
usual position is that of servitude to the wealthy, who consider them
rather as slaves than servants, punish them with great severity, and do
not hesitate even to take their lives. It will be seen from this fact
that the primitive simplicity of the savage life is not precisely of
an Arcadian character; and that savages are not indebted to Europeans
for all their vices. For some undoubtedly they are, and display a
singular aptitude in acquiring them; but most of the greatest evils of
the world, such as drunkenness, cruelty, immorality, dishonesty, lying,
slavery, and the like, are to be found in full vigor among savage
nations, and existed among them long before they ever saw an European.
To say that the vices above mentioned were introduced to savages by
Europeans is a libel on civilization. Whenever a savage can intoxicate
himself he will do so, no matter in what part of the world he lives.
So determinedly is he bent on attaining this result, that he will
drink vast quantities of the native African beer, which is as thick
as ordinary gruel, or he will drink the disgustingly-prepared kava of
Polynesia; or he will smoke hemp in a pipe, or chew it as a sweetmeat;
or swallow tobacco smoke until he is more than half choked, or he will
take opium if he can get it, and intoxicate himself with that.
Similarly, the savage is essentially cruel, not having the least
regard for the sufferings of others, and inflicting the most frightful
tortures with calm enjoyment. As for morality, as we understand the
word, the true savage has no conception of it, and the scenes which
nightly take place in savage lands are of such a nature that travellers
who have witnessed them are obliged to pass them over in discreet
silence. Honesty, in its right sense, is equally unknown, and so is
truthfulness, a successful theft and an undetected falsehood being
thought evidences of skill and ingenuity, and by no means a disgrace.
Slavery, again, thrives mightily among savages, and it is a well-known
fact that savages are the hardest masters toward their slaves on the
face of the earth.
The land in which the Damaras live is rather a remarkable one,
and, although it is of very large extent, only a small portion is
habitable by human beings. The vegetation is mostly of the thorny
kind, while water is scarce throughout a great portion of the year,
the rainy season bringing with it sudden floods which are scarcely
less destructive than the previous drought. “Being situated in the
tropic of Capricorn, the seasons are naturally the reverse of those
in Europe. In the month of August, when our summer may be said to be
at an end, hot westerly winds blow, which quickly parch up and destroy
the vegetation. At the same time, whirlwinds sweep over the country
with tremendous velocity, driving along vast columns of sand, many feet
in diameter and several hundred in height. At times, ten or fifteen of
these columns may be seen chasing each other. The Damaras designate
them Orukumb’ombura, or, Rain-bringers, a most appropriate name, as
they usually occur just before the first rains fall.
“Showers, accompanied by thunder and vivid lightning, are not unusual
in the months of September and October; but the regular rains do not
set in till December and January, when they continue, with but slight
intermission, till May. In this month and June, strong easterly winds
prevail, which are not only disagreeable, but injurious to health. The
lips crack, and the skin feels dry and harsh. Occasionally at this
time, tropical rains fall, but they do more harm than good, as sudden
cold, which annihilates vegetation, is invariably the result. In July
and August the nights are the coldest, and it is then no unusual thing
to find ice half an inch thick.”
The Damaras have a very odd notion of their origin, thinking that they
sprang from a tree, which they call in consequence the Mother Tree. All
the animals had the same origin; and, after they had burst from the
parent tree, the world was all in darkness. A Damara then lighted a
fire, whereupon most of the beasts and birds fled away in terror, while
a few remained, and came close to the blaze. Those which fled became
wild animals, such as the gnoo, the giraffe, the zebra, and others,
while those which remained were the sheep, the ox, the goat, and dog,
and became domesticated. The individual tree is said still to exist at
a place called Omariera, but, as it happens, every sub-tribe of the
Damaras point to a different tree, and regard it with filial affection
as their great ancestor. The natives call this tree Motjohaara, and the
particular individual from which they believe that they sprung by the
name of Omumborumbonga. The timber is very heavy, and of so close and
hard a texture, that it may be ranked among the ironwoods.
In appearance the Damaras are a fine race of men, sometimes exceeding
six feet in height, and well proportioned. Their features are tolerably
regular, and they move with grace and freedom. (See illustration No. 1,
on p. 308.) They are powerful, as becomes their bulk; but, as is the
case with many savages, although they can put forth great strength on
occasions, they are not capable of long and continued exertion.
The bodily constitution of the Damaras is of the most extraordinary
character. Pain for them seems almost non-existent, and an injury
which would be fatal to the more nervously constituted European has but
little effect on the Damara. The reader may remember the insensibility
to pain manifested by the Hottentots, but the Damaras even exceed
them in this particular. Mr. Baines mentions, in his MS. notes, some
extraordinary instances of this peculiarity. On one occasion a man had
broken his leg, and the fractured limb had been put up in a splint. One
day, while the leg was being dressed, Mr. Baines heard a great shout of
laughter, and found that a clumsy assistant had let the leg fall, and
had rebroken the partially united bones, so that the leg was hanging
with the foot twisted inward. Instead of being horrified at such an
accident, they were all shouting with laughter at the abnormal shape
of the limb, and no one seemed to think it a better joke, or laughed
more heartily, than the injured man himself. The same man, when his
injuries had nearly healed, and nitrate of silver had to be applied
freely to the parts, bore the excruciating operation so well that he
was complimented on his courage. However, it turned out that he did not
feel the application at all, and that the compliments were quite thrown
away.
On another occasion, a very remarkable incident occurred. There had
been a mutiny, which threatened the lives of the whole party, and the
ringleader was accordingly condemned to death, and solemnly executed by
being shot through the head with a pistol, the body being allowed to
lie where it fell. Two or three days afterward, the executed criminal
made his appearance, not much the worse for the injury, except the
remains of a wound in his head. He seemed to think that he had been
rather hardly used, and asked for a stick of tobacco as compensation.
Yet, although so indifferent to external injuries, they are singularly
sensitive to illness, and are at once prostrated by a slight
indisposition, of which an European would think nothing at all. Their
peculiar constitution always shows itself in travelling. Mr. Baines
remarks that a savage is ready to travel at a minute’s notice, as he
has nothing to do but to pick up his weapons and start. He looks with
contempt upon the preparation which a white man makes, and for two
or three days’ “fatigue” work will beat almost any European. Yet in
a long, steady march, the European tires out the savage, unless the
latter conforms to the usages which he despised at starting.
He finds that, after all, he will require baggage and clothing of
some kind. The heat of the mid-day sun gives him a headache, and he
is obliged to ask for a cap as a protection. Then his sandals, which
were sufficient for him on a sandy soil, are no protection against
thorns and so he has to procure shoes. Then, sleeping at night without
a rug or large kaross cannot be endured for many nights, and so he
has to ask for a blanket. His food again, such as the ground-nuts on
which the poorer Damaras chiefly live, is not sufficiently nutritious
for long-continued exertion, and he is obliged to ask for his regular
rations. His usual fashion is to make a dash at work, to continue
for two or three days, and then to cease altogether, and recruit his
strength by passing several days in inaction.
The dress of the Damaras is rather peculiar--that of the women
especially so. The principal part of a man’s dress is a leathern rope
of wonderful length, seldom less than a hundred feet, and sometimes
exceeding four or even five hundred. This is wound in loose coils round
the waist, so that it falls in folds which are not devoid of grace. In
it the Damara thrusts his axes, knob-kerries, and other implements, so
that it serves the purpose of a belt, a pocket, and a dress. His feet
are defended by sandals, made something like those of the Bechuanas,
and fastened to the feet in a similar manner, but remarkable for their
length, projecting rather behind the heel, and very much before the
toes, in a way that reminds the observer of the long-toed boots which
were so fashionable in early English times. Sometimes he makes a
very bad use of these sandals, surreptitiously scraping holes in the
sand, into which he pushes small articles of value that may have been
dropped, and then stealthily covers them up with the sand.
They are very fond of ornament, and place great value on iron for this
purpose, fashioning it into various forms, and polishing it until it
glitters brightly in the sunbeams. Beads, of course, they wear, and
they are fond of ivory beads, some of which may be rather termed balls,
so large are they. One man had a string of these beads which hung from
the back of his head nearly to his heels. The uppermost beads were
about as large as billiard balls, and they graduated regularly in size
until the lowest and smallest were barely as large as hazel-nuts. He
was very proud of this ornament, and refused to sell it, though he
kindly offered to lend it for a day or two.
[Illustration: (1.) DAMARA WARRIOR AND WIFE. (See pages 305,306.)]
[Illustration: (2.) DAMARA GIRL RESTING. (See page 309.)]
His headdress costs him much trouble in composing, though he does
not often go through the labor of adjusting it. He divides his hair
into a great number of strands, which he fixes by imbuing them with a
mixture of grease and red ochre, and then allows them to hang round his
head like so many short red cords. A wealthy man will sometimes adorn
himself with a single cockleshell in the centre of the forehead, and
Mr. Baines remarks, that if any of his friends at home would only have
made a supper on a few pennyworth of cockles, and sent him the shells,
he could have made his fortune. The men have no particular hat or cap;
but, as they are very fastidious about their hair, and as rain would
utterly destroy all the elaborately-dressed locks, they use in rainy
weather a piece of soft hide, which they place on their heads, and fold
or twist into any form that may seem most convenient to them. The fat
and red ochre with which he adorns his head is liberally bestowed on
the whole body, and affords an index to the health and general spirits
of the Damara. When a Damara is well and in good spirits he is all red
and shining like a mirror, and whenever he is seen pale and dull he
is sure either to be in low spirits or bad circumstances. As a rule,
the Damaras do not wash themselves, preferring to renew their beauty
by paint and grease, and the natural consequence is, that they diffuse
an odor which is far from agreeable to European nostrils, though their
own seem to be insensible to it. Indeed, so powerful are the odors of
the African tribes, that any one who ventures among them must boldly
abnegate the sense of smell, and make up his mind to endure all kinds
of evil odors, just as he makes up his mind to endure the heat of the
sun and the various hardships of travel in a foreign land.
The dress of the women is most remarkable, not to say unique. As
children, they have no clothing whatever; and, until they are asked
in marriage, they wear the usual costume of Southern Africa, namely,
the fringe-apron, and perhaps a piece of leather tied round the waist,
these and beads constituting their only dress. The illustration No. 2,
opposite, is from a drawing by Mr. Baines, which admirably shows the
symmetrical and graceful figures of the Damara girls before they are
married, and their contours spoiled by hard work. The drawing was taken
from life, and represents a young girl as she appears while resting
herself. It seems rather a strange mode of resting, but it is a point
of honor with the Damara girls and women not to put down a load until
they have conveyed it to its destination, and, as she has found the
heavy basket to fatigue her head, she has raised it on both her hands,
and thus “rests” herself without ceasing her walk or putting down her
burden.
Not content with the basket load upon her head, she has another load
tied to her back, consisting of some puppies. The Damara girls are very
fond of puppies, and make great pets of them, treating them as if they
were babies, and carrying them about exactly as the married women carry
their children.
As soon as they have been asked in marriage, the Damara woman assumes
the matron’s distinctive costume. This is of the most elaborate
character, and requires a careful description, as there is nothing
like it in any part of the world. Round her waist the woman winds an
inordinately long hide rope, like that worn by her husband. This rope
is so saturated with grease that it is as soft and pliable as silk,
but also has the disadvantage of harboring sundry noxious insects, the
extermination of which, however, seems to afford harmless amusement to
the Damara ladies. Also, she wears a dress made of skin, the hair being
worn outward, and the upper part turned over so as to form a sort of
cape.
Many Damara women wear a curious kind of bodice, the chief use of
which seems to be the evidence that a vast amount of time and labor
has been expended in producing a very small result. Small flat disks
of ostrich-shell are prepared, as has already been mentioned when
treating of the Hottentots, and strung together. A number of the
strings are then set side by side so as to form a wide belt, which is
fastened round the body, and certainly forms a pleasing contrast to the
shining red which is so liberally used, and which entirely obliterates
the distinctions of dark or fair individuals. Round their wrists and
ankles they wear a succession of metal rings, almost invariably iron or
copper, and some of the richer sort wear so many that they can hardly
walk with comfort, and their naturally graceful gait degenerates into
an awkward waddle. It is rather curious that the women should value
these two metals so highly, for they care comparatively little for
the more costly metals, such as brass or even gold. These rings are
very simply made, being merely thick rods cut to the proper length,
bent rudely into form, and then clenched over the limb by the hammer.
These ornaments have cost some of their owners very dear, as we shall
presently see.
The strangest part of the woman’s costume is the headdress, which
may be seen in the illustration opposite, of a warrior’s wife. The
framework of the headdress is a skull-cap of stout hide, which fits
closely to the head, and which is ornamented with three imitation ears
of the same material, one being on each side, and the third behind. To
the back of this cap is attached a flat tail, sometimes three feet or
more in length, and six or eight inches in width. It is composed of
a strip of leather, on which are fastened parallel strings of metal
beads, or rather “bugles,” mostly made of tin. The last few inches of
the leather strip are cut into thongs so as to form a terminal fringe.
The cap is further decorated by shells, which are sewed round it in
successive rows according to the wealth of the wearer. The whole of the
cap, as well as the ears, is rubbed with grease and red ochre. So much
for the cap itself, which, however, is incomplete without the veil.
This is a large piece of thin and very soft leather which is attached
to the front of the cap, and, if allowed to hang freely, would fall
over the face and conceal it. The women, however, only wear it thus
for a short time, and then roll it back so that it passes over the
forehead, and then falls on either shoulder.
Heavy and inconvenient as is this cap, the Damara woman never goes
without it, and suffers all the inconvenience for the sake of being
fashionable. Indeed, so highly is this adornment prized by both
sexes that the husbands would visit their wives with their heaviest
displeasure (_i. e._ beat them within an inch of their lives) if they
ventured to appear without it. One woman, whose portrait was being
taken, was recommended to leave her headdress with the artist, so
that she might be spared the trouble of standing while the elaborate
decorations were being drawn. She was horrified at the idea of laying
it aside, and said that her husband would kill her if she was seen
without her proper dress. If she wishes to carry a burden on her head,
she does not remove her cap, but pushes it off her forehead, so that
the three pointed ears come upon the crown instead of the top of the
head, and are out of the way.
However scanty may be the apparel which is worn, both sexes are very
particular about wearing something, and look upon entire nudity much in
the same light that we do. So careful are they in this respect that an
unintentional breach of etiquette gave its name to a river. Some Damara
women came to it, and, seeing that some berries were growing on the
opposite side, and that the water was not much more than waist-deep,
they left their aprons on the bank and waded across. While they were
engaged in gathering the berries, a torrent of water suddenly swept
down the river, overflowed its banks, and carried away the dresses.
Ever afterward the Damaras gave that stream the name of Okaroschekè, or
“Naked River.”
They have a curious custom of chipping the two upper front teeth, so as
to leave a V-shaped space between them. This is done with a flint, and
the custom prevails, with some modifications, among many other tribes.
It has been mentioned that the Damaras have many cattle. They delight
in having droves of one single color, bright brown being the favorite
hue, and cattle of that color being mostly remarkable for their
enduring powers. Damara cattle are much prized by other tribes, and
even by the white settlers, on account of their quick step, strong
hoofs, and lasting powers. They are, however, rather apt to be wild,
and, as their horns are exceedingly long and sharp, an enraged Damara
ox becomes a most dangerous animal. Sometimes the horns of an ox will
be so long that the tips are seven or eight feet apart. The hair of
these cattle is shining and smooth, and the tuft at the end of the tail
is nearly as remarkable for its length as the horns. These tail-tufts
are much used in decorations, and are in great request for ornamenting
the shafts of the assagais. As is generally the case with African
cattle, the cows give but little milk daily, and, if the calf should
happen to die, none at all. In such cases, the Damaras stuff the skin
of the dead calf with grass, and place it before the cow, who is quite
contented with it. Sometimes a rather ludicrous incident has occurred.
The cow, while licking her imagined offspring, has come upon the grass
which protrudes here and there from the rudely stuffed skin, and,
thrusting her nose into the interior, has dragged out and eaten the
whole of the grass.
It has been mentioned that the Damaras find much of their subsistence
in the ground. They are trained from infancy in digging the ground
for food, and little children who cannot fairly walk may be seen
crawling about, digging up roots and eating them. By reason of this
diet, the figures of the children are anything but graceful, their
stomachs protruding in a most absurd manner, and their backs taking a
corresponding curve. Their mode of digging holes is called “crowing,”
and is thus managed: they take a pointed stick in their right hand,
break up the ground with it, and scrape out the loose earth with the
left. They are wonderfully expeditious at this work, having to employ
it for many purposes, such as digging up the ground-nuts, on which they
feed largely, excavating for water, and the like. They will sometimes
“crow” holes eighteen inches or more in depth, and barely six inches
in diameter. The word “crow” is used very frequently by travellers in
this part of Africa, and sadly puzzles the novice, who does not in the
least know what can be meant by “crowing” for roots, “crow-water,” and
the like. Crow-water, of course, is that which is obtained by digging
holes, and is never so good as that which can be drawn from some open
well or stream.
“Crowing” is very useful in house-building. The women procure a number
of tolerably stout but pliant sticks, some eight or nine feet long, and
then “crow” a corresponding number of holes in a circle about eight
feet in diameter. The sticks are planted in the holes, the tops bent
down and lashed together, and the framework of the house is complete.
A stout pole, with a forked top, is then set in the middle of the
hut, and supports the roof, just as a tent-pole supports the canvas.
Brushwood is then woven in and out of the framework, and mud plastered
upon the brushwood. A hole is left at one side by way of a door, and
another at the top to answer the purpose of a chimney. When the fire
is not burning, an old ox-hide is laid over the aperture, and kept in
its place by heavy stones. Moreover, as by the heat of the fire inside
the hut, and the rays of the sun outside it, various cracks make their
appearance in the roof, hides are laid here and there, until at last an
old Damara hut is nearly covered with hides. These act as ventilators
during the day, but are carefully drawn and closed at night; the
savage, who spends all his day in the open air, almost invariably
shutting out every breath of air during the night, and seeming to have
the power of existing for six or eight hours without oxygen. As if to
increase the chance of suffocation, the Damaras always crowd into these
huts, packing themselves as closely as possible round the small fire
which occupies the centre.
As to furniture, the Damaras trouble themselves little about such
a superfluity. Within the hut may usually be seen one or two clay
cooking-pots, some wooden vessels, a couple of ox-hides by way of
chairs, a small bag of grease, another of red ochre, and an axe for
chopping wood. All the remainder of their property is either carried
on their persons, or buried in some secret spot so that it may not be
stolen.
The intellect of the Damaras does not seem to be of a very high order,
or, at all events, it has not been cultivated. They seem to fail most
completely in arithmetic, and cannot even count beyond a certain
number. Mr. Galton gives a very amusing description of a Damara in
difficulties with a question of simple arithmetic.
“We went only three hours, and slept at the furthest watering-place
that Hans and I had explored. Now we had to trust to the guides, whose
ideas of time and distance were most provokingly indistinct; besides
this, they have no comparative in their language, so that you cannot
say to them, ‘Which is the _longer_ of the two, the next stage or the
last one?’ but you must say, ‘The last stage is little; the next, is
it great?’ The reply is not, ‘It is a little longer,’ ‘much longer,’
or ‘very much longer,’ but simply, ‘It is so,’ or ‘It is not so.’ They
have a very poor notion of time. If you say, ‘Suppose we start at
sunrise, where will the sun be when we arrive?’ they make the wildest
points in the sky, though they are something of astronomers, and give
names to several stars. They have no way of distinguishing days, but
reckon by the rainy season, the dry season, or the pig-nut season.
“When inquiries are made about how many days’ journey off a place
may be, their ignorance of all numerical ideas is very annoying. In
practice, whatever they may possess in their language, they certainly
use no numeral greater than three. When they wish to express four, they
take to their fingers, which are to them as formidable instruments
of calculation as a sliding rule is to an English school-boy. They
puzzle very much after five, because no spare hand remains to grasp
and secure the fingers that are required for ‘units.’ Yet they seldom
lose oxen: the way in which they discover the loss of one is not by the
number of the herd being diminished, but by the absence of a face they
know.
“When bartering is going on, each sheep must be paid for separately.
Thus, suppose two sticks of tobacco to be the rate of exchange for one
sheep, it would sorely puzzle a Damara to take two sheep and give him
four sticks. I have done so, and seen a man first put two of the sticks
apart, and take a sight over them at one of the sheep he was about to
sell. Having satisfied himself that that one was honestly paid for,
and finding to his surprise that exactly two sticks remained in hand
to settle the account for the other sheep, he would be afflicted with
doubts; the transaction seemed to come out too ‘pat’ to be correct, and
he would refer back to the first couple of sticks; and then his mind
got hazy and confused, and wandered from one sheep to the other, and he
broke off the transaction until two sticks were put into his hand, and
one sheep driven away, and then the other two sticks given him, and the
second sheep driven away.
“When a Damara’s mind is bent upon number, it is too much occupied to
dwell upon quantity; thus a heifer is bought from a man for ten sticks
of tobacco, his large hands being both spread out upon the ground, and
a stick placed upon each finger. He gathers up the tobacco, the size
of the mass pleases him, and the bargain is struck. You then want to
buy a second heifer; the same process is gone through, but half sticks
instead of whole sticks are put upon his fingers; the man is equally
satisfied at the time, but occasionally finds it out, and complains the
next day.
“Once, while I watched a Damara floundering hopelessly in a calculation
on one side of me, I observed Dinah, my spaniel, equally embarrassed on
the other. She was overlooking half a dozen of her new-born puppies,
which had been removed two or three times from her, and her anxiety was
excessive, as she tried to find out if they were all present, or if any
were still missing. She kept puzzling and running her eyes over them
backward and forward, but could not satisfy herself. She evidently had
a vague idea of counting, but the figure was too large for her brain.
Taking the two as they stood, dog and Damara, the comparison reflected
no great honor on the man.
“Hence, as the Damaras had the vaguest notions of time and distance,
and as their language was a poor vehicle for expressing what ideas they
had, and, lastly, as truth-telling was the exception and not the rule,
I found their information to be of very little practical use.”
Although the Damaras managed to overrun the country, they cannot be
considered a warlike people, neither have they been able to hold for
any length of time the very uninviting land they conquered. Their
weapons are few and simple, but, such as they are, much pains are taken
in their manufacture, and the Damara warrior is as careful to keep his
rude arms in good order as is the disciplined soldier of Europe. The
chief and distinctive weapon of the Damara is the assagai, which has
little in common with the weapons that have already been described
under that name. It is about six feet in length, and has an enormous
blade, leaf-shaped, a foot or more in length, and proportionately wide.
It is made of soft steel, and can be at once sharpened by scraping
with a knife or stone. The shaft is correspondingly stout, and to the
centre is attached one of the flowing ox-tails which have already been
mentioned. Some of these assagais are made almost wholly of iron, and
have only a short piece of wood in the middle, which answers for a
handle, as well as an attachment for the ox-tail, which seems to be an
essential part of the Damara assagai.
The weapon is, as may be conjectured, an exceedingly inefficient one,
and the blade is oftener used as a knife than an offensive weapon. It
is certainly useful in the chase of the elephant and other large game,
because the wound which it makes is very large, and causes a great flow
of blood; but against human enemies it is comparatively useless. The
Damara also carries a bow and arrows, which are wretchedly ineffective
weapons, the marksman seldom hitting his object at a distance greater
than ten or twelve yards. The weapon which he really handles well is
the knob-kerrie or short club, and this he can use either as a club at
short quarters, or as a missile, in the latter case hurling it with
a force and precision that renders it really formidable. Still, the
Damara’s entire armament is a very poor one, and it is not matter of
wonder that when he came to match himself against the possessors of
fire-arms he should be hopelessly defeated.
In their conflicts with the Hottentots, the unfortunate Damaras
suffered dreadfully. They were literally cut to pieces by far inferior
forces, not through any particular valor on the part of the enemy, nor
from any especial cowardice on their own, but simply because they did
not know their own powers. Stalwart warriors, well armed with their
broad-bladed assagais, might be seen paralyzed with fear at the sound
and effects of the muskets with which the Hottentots were armed, and
it was no uncommon occurrence for a Damara soldier to stand still in
fear and trembling while a little Hottentot, at twenty paces’ distance,
deliberately loaded his weapon, and then shot him down. Being ignorant
of the construction and management of fire-arms, the Damaras had
no idea that they were harmless when discharged (for in those days
breech-loaders and revolvers were alike unknown to the Hottentots), and
therefore allowed themselves to be deliberately shot, while the enemy
was really at their mercy.
If the men suffered death in the field, the fate of the women was
worse. According to the custom of the Damara tribe, they carried all
their wealth on their persons, in the shape of beads, ear-rings, and
especially the large and heavy metal rings with which their ankles
and wrists were adorned. Whenever the Hottentot soldiers came upon a
Damara woman, they always robbed her of every ornament, tearing off all
her clothing to search for them, and, as the metal rings could not be
unclenched without some trouble, they deliberately cut off the hands
and feet of the wretched woman, tore off the rings, and left her to
live or die as might happen. Strangely enough they often lived, even
after undergoing such treatment; and, after stanching the flowing blood
by thrusting the stumps of their limbs into the hot sand, some of them
contrived to crawl for many miles until they rejoined their friends.
For some time after the war, maimed Damara women were often seen,
some being without feet, others without hands, and some few without
either--these having been the richest when assaulted by their cruel
enemies.
The Damaras are subdivided into a number of eandas--a word which has
some analogy with the Hindoo “caste,” each eanda having its peculiar
rites, superstitions, &c. One eanda is called Ovakueyuba, or the
Sun-children; another is Ovakuenombura, or the Rain-children; and so
on. The eandas have special emblems or crests--if such a word may be
used. These emblems are always certain trees or bushes, which represent
the eandas just as the red and white roses represented the two great
political parties of England. Each of these castes has some prohibited
food, and they will almost starve rather than break the law. One eanda
will not eat the flesh of red oxen--to another, the draught oxen are
prohibited; and so fastidious are they, that they will not touch the
vessels in which such food might have been cooked, nor even stand to
leeward of the fire, lest the smoke should touch them. These practices
cause the Damaras to be very troublesome as guides, and it is not until
the leader has steadily refused to humor them that they will consent to
forego for the time their antipathies.
This custom is the more extraordinary, as the Damaras are by nature and
education anything but fastidious, and they will eat all kinds of food
which an European would reject with disgust. They will eat the flesh
of cattle or horses which have died of disease, as well as that of the
leopard, hyæna, and other beasts of prey. In spite of their unclean
feeding, they will not eat raw, or even underdone meat, and therein
are certainly superior to many other tribes, who seem to think that
cooking is a needless waste of time and fuel. Goats are, happily for
themselves, among the prohibited animals, and are looked upon by the
Damaras much as swine are by the Jews.
Fond as they are of beef, they cannot conceive that any one should
consider meat as part of his daily food. On special occasions they kill
an ox, or, if the giver of the feast should happen to be a rich man,
six or seven are killed. But, when an ox is slaughtered, it is almost
common property, every one within reach coming for a portion of it,
and, if refused, threatening to annihilate the stingy man with their
curse. They are horribly afraid of this curse, supposing that their
health will be blighted and their strength fade away. Consequently,
meat is of no commercial value in Damara-land, no one caring to possess
food which practically belongs to every one except himself. Cows
are kept for the sake of their milk, and oxen (as Mr. Galton says)
merely to be looked at, just as deer are kept in England, a few being
slaughtered on special occasions, but not being intended to furnish
a regular supply of food. Much as the Damaras value their oxen when
alive--so much so, indeed, that a fine of two oxen is considered a
sufficient reparation for murder--they care little for them when dead,
a living sheep being far more valuable than a dead ox. These people
know every ox that they have ever seen. Their thoughts run on oxen
all day, and cattle form the chief subject of their conversation. Mr.
Galton found that, whenever he came to a new station, the natives
always inspected his oxen, to see if any of their own missing cattle
were among them; and if he had by chance purchased one that had been
stolen, its owner would be sure to pick it out, and by the laws of
the land is empowered to reclaim it. Knowing this law, he always, if
possible, bought his oxen from men in whose possession they had been
for several years, so that no one would be likely to substantiate a
claim to any of them.
When the Damaras are at home, they generally amuse themselves in
the evening by singing and dancing. Their music is of a very simple
character, their principal if not only instrument being the bow,
the string of which is tightened, and then struck with a stick in a
kind of rhythmic manner. The Damara musician thinks that the chief
object of his performance is to imitate the gallop or trot of the
various animals. This he usually does with great skill, the test of an
accomplished musician being the imitation of the clumsy canter of the
baboon.
Their dances are really remarkable, as may be seen by the following
extract from the work of Mr. Baines:--“At night, dances were got up
among the Damaras, our attention being first drawn to them by a sound
between the barking of a dog and the efforts of a person to clear
something out of his throat, by driving the breath strongly through
it. We found four men stooping with their heads in contact, vying with
each other in the production of these delectable inarticulations,
while others, with rattling anklets of hard seed-shells, danced round
them. By degrees the company gathered together, and the women joined
the performers, standing in a semi-circle. They sang a monotonous
chant, and clapped their hands, while the young men and boys danced
up to them, literally, and by no means gently, ‘beating the ground
with nimble feet,’ raising no end of dust, and making their shell
anklets sound, in their opinion, most melodiously. Presently the leader
snatched a brand from the fire, and, after dancing up to the women
as before, stuck it in the ground as he retired, performing the step
round and over it when he returned, like a Highlander in the broadsword
dance, without touching it. Then came the return of a victorious party,
brandishing their broad spears ornamented with flowing ox-tails,
welcomed by a chorus of women, and occasionally driving back the few
enemies who had the audacity to approach them.
“This scene, when acted by a sufficient number, must be highly
effective. As it was, the glare of the fire reflected from the red
helmet-like gear and glittering ornaments of the women, the flashing
blades and waving ox-tails of the warriors, with the fitful glare
playing on the background of huts, kraal, and groups of cattle, was
picturesque enough. The concluding guttural emissions of sound were
frightful; the dogs howled simultaneously; and the little lemur,
terrified at the uproar, darted wildly about the inside of the wagon,
in vain efforts to escape from what, in fact, was his only place of
safety.”
In Damara-land, the authority of the husband over the wife is not so
superior as in other parts of Africa. Of course, he has the advantage
of superior strength, and, when angered, will use the stick with
tolerable freedom. But, if he should be too liberal with the stick,
she has a tacit right of divorce, and betakes herself to some one who
will not treat her so harshly. Mr. Galton says that the women whom he
saw appeared to have but little affection either for their husbands or
children, and that he had always some little difficulty in finding to
which man any given wife happened for the time to belong. The Damara
wife costs her husband nothing for her keep, because she “crows” her
own ground-nuts, and so he cannot afford to dispense with her services,
which are so useful in building his house, cooking his meals, and
carrying his goods from place to place. Each wife has her own hut,
which of course she builds for herself; and, although polygamy is in
vogue, the number of wives is not so great as is the case with other
tribes. There is always one chief wife, who takes precedence of the
others, and whose eldest son is considered the heir to his father’s
possessions.
Though the Damaras have no real religion, they have plenty of
superstitious practices, one of which bears a striking resemblance to
the sacred fire of the ancients. The chief’s hut is distinguished by
a fire which is always kept burning, outside the hut in fine weather,
and inside during rain. To watch this fire is the duty of his daughter,
who is a kind of priestess, and is called officially Ondangere. She
performs various rites in virtue of her office; such as sprinkling
the cows with water, as they go out to feed; tying a sacred knot in
her leathern apron, if one of them dies; and other similar duties.
Should the position of the village be changed, she precedes the oxen,
carrying a burning brand from the consecrated fire, and taking care
that she replaces it from time to time. If by any chance it should be
extinguished, great are the lamentations. The whole tribe are called
together, cattle are sacrificed as expiatory offerings, and the fire
is re-kindled by friction. If one of the sons, or a chief man, should
remove from the spot, and set up a village of his own, he is supplied
with some of the sacred fire, and hands it over to his own daughter,
who becomes the Ondangere of the new village.
That the Damaras have some hazy notion of the immortality of the
soul is evident enough, though they profess not to believe in such a
doctrine; for they will sometimes go to the grave of a deceased friend
or chief, lay down provisions, ask him to eat, drink, and be merry, and
then beg him, in return, to aid them, and grant them herds of cattle
and plenty of wives. Moreover, they believe that the dead revisit the
earth, though not in the human form: they generally appear in the shape
of some animal, but are always distinguished by a mixture of some other
animal. For example, if a Damara sees a dog with one foot like that
of an ostrich, he knows that he sees an apparition, and is respectful
accordingly. If it should follow him, he is dreadfully frightened,
knowing that his death is prognosticated thereby. The name of such an
apparition is Otj-yuru.
When a Damara chief dies, he is buried in rather a peculiar fashion.
As soon as life is extinct--some say, even before the last breath is
drawn--the bystanders break the spine by a blow from a large stone.
They then unwind the long rope that encircles the loins, and lash the
body together in a sitting posture, the head being bent over the
knees. Ox-hides are then tied over it, and it is buried with its face
to the north, as already described when treating of the Bechuanas.
Cattle are then slaughtered in honor of the dead chief, and over the
grave a post is erected, to which the skulls and hair are attached as a
trophy. The bow, arrows, assagai, and clubs of the deceased are hung on
the same post. Large stones are pressed into the soil above and around
the grave, and a large pile of thorns is also heaped over it, in order
to keep off the hyænas, who would be sure to dig up and devour the body
before the following day. The grave of a Damara chief is represented on
page 302. Now and then a chief orders that his body shall be left in
his own house, in which case it is laid on an elevated platform, and a
strong fence of thorns and stakes built round the hut.
The funeral ceremonies being completed, the new chief forsakes the
place, and takes the whole of the people under his command. He remains
at a distance for several years, during which time he wears the sign
of mourning, _i. e._ a dark-colored conical cap, and round the neck a
thong, to the ends of which are hung two small pieces of ostrich shell.
When the season of mourning is over, the tribe return, headed by
the chief, who goes to the grave of his father, kneels over it, and
whispers that he has returned, together with the cattle and wives which
his father gave him. He then asks for his parent’s aid in all his
undertakings, and from that moment takes the place which his father
filled before him. Cattle are then slaughtered and a feast held to the
memory of the dead chief, and in honor of the living one; and each
person present partakes of the meat, which is distributed by the chief
himself. The deceased chief symbolically partakes of the banquet. A
couple of twigs cut from the tree of the particular eanda to which the
deceased belonged are considered as his representative, and with this
emblem each piece of meat is touched before the guests consume it.
In like manner, the first pail of milk that is drawn is taken to the
grave, and poured over it.
These ceremonies being rightly performed, the village is built anew,
and is always made to resemble that which had been deserted; the huts
being built on the same ground, and peculiar care being taken that
the fireplaces should occupy exactly the same positions that they did
before the tribe went into voluntary exile. The hut of the chief is
always upon the east side of the village.
The Damaras have a singular kind of oath, or asseveration--“By the
tears of my mother!”--a form of words so poetical and pathetic, that
it seems to imply great moral capabilities among a people that could
invent and use it.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE OVAMBO OR OVAMPO TRIBE.
LOCALITY OF THE TRIBE -- THEIR HONESTY -- KINDNESS TO THE SICK AND
AGED -- DOMESTIC HABITS -- CURIOUS DRESS -- THEIR ARCHITECTURE
-- WOMEN’S WORK -- AGRICULTURE -- WEAPONS -- MODE OF CAMPING --
FISH-CATCHING -- INGENIOUS TRAPS -- ABSENCE OF PAUPERISM -- DANCES
-- GOVERNMENT OF THE OVAMBO -- THEIR KING NANGORO -- HIS TREACHEROUS
CHARACTER -- MATRIMONIAL AFFAIRS -- THE LAW OF SUCCESSION -- THEIR
FOOD -- CURIOUS CUSTOM AT MEAL-TIMES -- MODE OF GREETING FRIENDS.
There is a rather remarkable tribe inhabiting the country about lat.
18° S. and long. 15° E. called by the name of OVAMPO, or OVAMBO, the
latter being the usual form. In their own language their name is
Ovaherero, or the Merry People. They are remarkable for their many good
qualities, which are almost exceptional in Southern Africa. In the
first place, they are honest, and, as we have already seen, honesty
is a quality which few of the inhabitants of Southern Africa seem to
recognize, much less to practise.
A traveller who finds himself among the Damaras, Namaquas, or
Bechuanas, must keep a watchful eye on every article which he
possesses, and, if he leaves any object exposed for a moment, it will
probably vanish in some mysterious manner, and never be seen again. Yet
Mr. Anderssen, to whom we owe our chief knowledge of the Ovambo tribe,
mentions that they were so thoroughly honest that they would not even
touch any of his property without permission, much less steal it; and,
on one occasion, when his servants happened to leave some trifling
articles on the last camping ground, messengers were despatched to him
with the missing articles. Among themselves, theft is fully recognized
as a crime, and they have arrived at such a pitch of civilization
that certain persons are appointed to act as magistrates, and to take
cognizance of theft as well as of other crimes. If a man were detected
in the act of stealing, he would be brought before the house of the
king, and there speared to death.
They are kind and attentive to their sick and aged, and in this respect
contrast most favorably with other tribes of Southern Africa. Even
the Zulus will desert those who are too old to work, and will leave
them to die of hunger, thirst, and privation, whereas the Ovambo takes
care of the old, the sick, and the lame, and carefully tends them.
This one fact alone is sufficient to place them immeasurably above
the neighboring tribes, and to mark an incalculable advance in moral
development.
It is a remarkable fact that the Ovambos do not live in towns or
villages, but in separate communities dotted over the land, each
family forming a community. The corn and grain, on which they chiefly
live, are planted round the houses, which are surrounded with a
strong and high enclosure. The natives are obliged to live in this
manner on account of the conduct of some neighboring tribes, which
made periodical raids upon them, and inflicted great damage upon
their cottages. And, as the Ovambos are a singularly peaceable tribe,
and found that retaliation was not successful, they hit upon this
expedient, and formed each homestead into a separate fort.
Probably for the same reason, very few cattle are seen near the
habitations of the Ovambos, and a traveller is rather struck with
the fact that, although this tribe is exceptionally rich in cattle,
possessing vast herds of them, a few cows and goats are their only
representatives near the houses. The fact is, the herds of cattle are
sent away to a distance from the houses, so that they are not only
undiscernible by an enemy, but can find plenty of pasturage and water.
It is said that they also breed large herds of swine, and have learned
the art of fattening them until they attain gigantic dimensions. The
herds of swine, however, are never allowed to come near the houses,
partly for the reasons already given, and partly on account of their
mischievous propensities.
The first engraving on page 329 represents the architecture of the
Ovambos. The houses, with their flat, conical roofs, are so low that a
man cannot stand upright in them. But the Ovambos never want to stand
upright in their houses, thinking them to be merely sleeping-places
into which they can crawl, and in which they can be sheltered during
the night. Two grain-stores are also seen, each consisting of a huge
jar, standing on supports, and covered with a thatch of reeds. In the
background is a fowl-house. Poultry are much bred among the Ovambos,
and are of a small description, scarcely larger than an English bantam.
They are, however, prolific, and lay an abundance of eggs.
The dress of the Ovambos, though scanty, is rather remarkable. As
to the men, they generally shave the greater part of the head, but
always leave a certain amount of their short, woolly hair upon the
crown. As the skull of the Ovambos is rather oddly formed, projecting
considerably behind, this fashion gives the whole head a very curious
effect. The rest of the man’s dress consists chiefly of beads and
sandals, the former being principally worn as necklaces, and the
latter almost precisely resembling the Bechuanan sandals, which have
already been described. They generally carry a knife with them, stuck
into a band tied round the upper part of the arm. The knife bears some
resemblance in general make to that of the Bechuanas and is made by
themselves, they being considerable adepts in metallurgy. The bellows
employed by the smiths much resembles that which is in use among the
Bechuanas, and they contrive to procure a strong and steady blast of
wind by fixing two sets of bellows at each forge, and having them
worked by two assistants, while the chief smith attends to the metal
and wields his stone hammer. The metal, such as iron and copper, which
they use, they obtain by barter from neighboring tribes, and work it
with such skill that their weapons, axes, and agricultural tools are
employed by them as a medium of exchange to the very tribes from whom
the ore had been purchased.
The women have a much longer dress than that of the other sex, but it
is of rather scanty dimensions. An oddly-shaped apron hangs in front,
and another behind, the ordinary form much resembling the head of an
axe, with the edge downward.
The portrait on the next page was taken from a sketch by Mr. Baines,
and represents the only true Ovambo that he ever saw. While he was at
Otjikango Katiti, or “Little Barman,” a Hottentot chief, named Jan
Aris, brought out a young Ovambo girl, saying that she was intrusted
to him for education. Of course, the real fact was, that she had been
captured in a raid, and was acting as servant to his wife, who was the
daughter of the celebrated Jonker, and was pleased to entitle herself
the Victoria of Damara-land. The girl was about fourteen, and was
exceedingly timid at the sight of the stranger, turning her back on
him, hiding her face, and bursting into tears of fright. This attitude
gave an opportunity of sketching a remarkable dress of the Ovambo girl,
the rounded piece of hide being decorated with blue beads. When she
was persuaded that no harm would be done to her, she turned round and
entered into conversation, thereby giving an opportunity for the second
sketch. Attached to the same belt which sustains the cushion was a
small apron of skin, and besides this no other dress was worn. She was
a good-looking girl, and, if her face had not been disfigured by the
tribal marks, might have even been considered as pretty.
The headdress of the women consists chiefly of their own hair, but
they continually stiffen it with grease, which they press on the head
in cakes, adding a vermilion-colored clay, and using both substances
in such profusion that the top of the head looks quite flat, and much
larger than it is by nature. The same mixture of grease and clay is
abundantly rubbed over the body, so that a woman in full dress imparts
a portion of her decorations to every object with which she comes in
contact.
Round their waists they wear such masses of beads, shells, and other
ornaments, that a solid kind of cuirass is made of them, and the centre
of the body is quite covered with these decorations. Many of the women
display much taste in the arrangement of the beads and shells, forming
them into patterns, and contrasting their various hues in quite an
artistic manner. Besides this bead cuirass, they wear a vast number
of necklaces and armlets made of the same materials. Their wrists and
ankles are loaded with a profusion of huge copper rings, some of which
weigh as much as three pounds; and, as a woman will sometimes have two
of these rings on each ankle, it may be imagined that the grace of her
deportment is not at all increased by them. Young girls, before they
are of sufficient consequence to obtain these ornaments, and while
they have to be content with the slight apparel of their sex, are as
graceful as needs be, but no woman can be expected to look graceful or
to move lightly when she has to carry about with her such an absurd
weight of ornaments. Moreover, the daily twelve hours’ work of the
women tends greatly toward the deterioration of their figures. To them
belongs, as to all other South African women, the labor of building the
houses.
[Illustration: (1.) PORTRAIT OF OVAMBO GIRL. (See page 316.)]
[Illustration: (2.) WOMEN POUNDING CORN. (See page 319.)]
The severity of this labor is indeed great, when we take into
consideration the dimensions of the enclosures. The houses themselves
do not require nearly so much work as those of the Bechuanas, for,
although they are of nearly the same dimensions, _i. e._ from fourteen
to twenty feet in diameter, they are comparatively low pitched, and
therefore need less material and less labor. A number of these houses
are placed in each enclosure, the best being for the master and his
immediate family, and the others for the servants. There are besides
grain-stores, houses for cattle, fowl-houses, and even sties for pigs,
one or two of the animals being generally kept in each homestead,
though the herds are rigidly excluded. Within the same enclosure are
often to be seen a number of ordinary Bosjesman huts. These belong
to members of that strange tribe, many of whom have taken up their
residence with the Ovambos, and live in a kind of relationship with
them, partly considered as vassals, partly as servants, and partly as
kinsfolk.
Moreover, within the palisade is an open space in which the inhabitants
can meet for amusement and consultation, and the cultivated ground
is also included, so that the amount of labor expended in making the
palisade can easily be imagined. The palisade is composed of poles at
least eight feet in length, and of corresponding stoutness, each being
a load for an ordinary laborer. These are fixed in the ground at short
intervals from each other, and firmly secured by means of rope lashing.
As to the men, they take the lighter departments of field work, attend
to the herds of cattle, and go on trading expeditions among the Damaras
and other tribes. The first of these labors is not very severe, as the
land is wonderfully fertile. The Ovambos need not the heavy tools which
a Kaffir woman is obliged to use, one hoe being a tolerable load. The
surface of the ground is a flinty sand soil, but at a short distance
beneath is a layer of blue clay, which appears to be very rich, and
to be able to nourish the plants without the aid of manures. A very
small hoe is used for agriculture, and, instead of digging up the
whole surface, the Ovambos merely dig little holes at intervals, drop
a handful of corn into them, cover them up, and leave them. This task
is always performed at the end of the rainy season, so that the ground
is full of moisture, and the young blades soon spring up. They are then
thinned out, and planted separately.
When the corn is ripe, the women take possession of it, and the men are
free to catch elephants in pitfalls for the sake of their tusks, and to
go on trading expeditions with the ivory thus obtained. When the grain
is beaten out of the husks, it is placed in the storehouses, being kept
in huge jars made of palm leaves and clay, much resembling those of
the Bechuanas, and, like them, raised a foot or so from the ground.
Grinding, or rather pounding the grain, also falls to the lot of the
women, and is not done with stones, but by means of a rude mortar. A
tree trunk is hollowed out, so as to form a tube, and into this tube
the grain is thrown. A stout and heavy pole answers the purpose of a
pestle, and the whole process much resembles that of making butter in
the old-fashioned churn.
The illustration No. 2 on page 317 is from an original sketch by T.
Baines, Esq., and exhibits a domestic scene within an Ovambo homestead.
Two women are pounding corn in one of their mortars, accompanied by
their children. On the face of one of them may be seen a series of
tribal marks. These are scars produced by cutting the cheeks and
rubbing clay into the wounds, and are thought to be ornamental. In the
foreground lies an oval object pierced with holes. This is a child’s
toy, made of the fruit of a baobab. Several holes are cut in the rind,
and the pulp squeezed out. The hard seeds are allowed to remain within
the fruit, and when dry they produce a rattling sound as the child
shakes its simple toy. In a note attached to his sketch, Mr. Baines
states that this is the only example of a child’s toy that he found
throughout the whole of Southern Africa. Its existence seems to show
the real superiority of this remarkable tribe. In the background are
seen a hut and two granaries, and against the house is leaning one of
the simple hoes with which the ground is cultivated. The reader will
notice that the iron blade is set in a line with the handle, and not at
right angles to it. A water-pipe lies on the ground, and the whole is
enclosed by the lofty palisades lashed together near the top.
The weapons of the Ovambo tribe are very simple, as it is to be
expected from a people who are essentially peaceful and unwarlike. They
consist chiefly of an assagai with a large blade, much like that of the
Damaras, and quite as useless for warlike purposes, bow and arrows, and
the knob-kerrie. None of them are very formidable weapons, and the bow
and arrows are perhaps the least so of the three, as the Ovambos are
wretched marksmen, being infinitely surpassed in the use of the bow by
the Damaras and the Bosjesmans, who obtain a kind of skill by using the
bow in the chase, though they would be easily beaten in range and aim
by a tenth-rate English amateur archer.
When on the march they have a very ingenious mode of encamping. Instead
of lighting one large fire and lying round it, as is the usual custom,
their first care is to collect a number of stones about as large as
bricks, and with these to build a series of circular fireplaces, some
two feet in diameter. These fireplaces are arranged in a double row,
and between them the travellers make up their primitive couches. This
is a really ingenious plan, and especially suited to the country. In a
place where large timber is plentiful, the custom of making huge fires
is well enough, though on a cold windy night the traveller is likely to
be scorched on one side and frozen on the other. But in Ovambo-land,
as a rule, sticks are the usual fuel, and it will be seen that, by
the employment of these stones, the heat is not only concentrated but
economized, the stones radiating the heat long after the fire has
expired. These small fires are even safer than a single large one, for,
when a large log is burned through and falls, it is apt to scatter
burning embers to a considerable distance, some of which might fall on
the sleepers and set fire to their beds.
The Ovambos are successful cultivators, and raise vegetables of many
kinds. The ordinary Kaffir corn and a kind of millet are the two grains
which are most plentiful, and they possess the advantage of having
stems some eight feet in length, juicy and sweet. When the corn is
reaped, the ears are merely cut off, and the cattle then turned into
the field to feed on the sweet stems, which are of a very fattening
character. Beans, peas, and similar vegetables are in great favor with
the Ovambos, who also cultivate successfully the melon, pumpkins,
calabashes, and other kindred fruits. They also grow tobacco, which,
however, is of a very poor quality, not so much on account of the
inferior character of the plant, as of the imperfect mode of curing
and storing it. Taking the leaves and stalks, and mashing them into a
hollow piece of wood, is not exactly calculated to improve the flavor
of the leaf, and the consequence is, that the tobacco is of such bad
quality that none but an Ovambo will use it.
There is a small tribe of the Ovambos, called the Ovaquangari,
inhabiting the banks of the Okovango river, who live much on fish,
and have a singularly ingenious mode of capturing them. Mr. Anderssen
gives the following account of the fish-traps employed by the
Ovaquangari:--“The river Okovango abounds, as I have already said,
in fish, and that in great variety. During my very limited stay on
its banks, I collected nearly twenty distinct species, and might,
though very inadequately provided with the means of preserving them,
unquestionably have doubled them, had sufficient time been afforded me.
All I discovered were not only edible, but highly palatable, some of
them possessing even an exquisite flavor.
“Many of the natives devote a considerable portion of their time to
fishing, and employ various simple, ingenious, and highly effective
contrivances for catching the finny tribe. Few fish, however, are
caught in the river itself. It is in the numerous shallows and lagoons
immediately on its borders, and formed by its annual overflow, that the
great draughts are made. The fishing season, indeed, only commences
in earnest at about the time that the Okovango reaches its highest
water-mark, that is, when it has ceased to ebb, and the temporary
lagoons or swamps alluded to begin to disappear.
“To the best of my belief, the Ovaquangari do not employ nets, but
traps of various kinds, and what may not inaptly be called aquatic
yards, for the capture of fish. These fishing yards are certain spots
of eligible water, enclosed or fenced off in the following manner:--A
quantity of reeds, of such length as to suit the water for which they
are intended, are collected, put into bundles, and cut even at both
ends. These reeds are then spread in single layers flat on the ground,
and sewed together very much in the same way as ordinary mats, but by
a less laborious process. It does not much matter what the length of
these mats may be, as they can be easily lengthened or shortened as
need may require.
“When a locality has been decided on for fishing operations, a certain
number of these mattings are introduced into the water on their ends,
that is, in a vertical position, and are placed either in a circle,
semi-circle, or a line, according to the shape of the lagoon or shallow
which is to be enclosed. Open spaces, from three to four feet wide,
are, however, left at certain intervals, and into these apertures the
toils, consisting of beehive-shaped masses of reeds, are introduced.
The diameter of these at the mouth varies with the depth to which they
have to descend, the lower side being firmly fastened to the bottom of
the water, whilst the upper is usually on a level with its surface,
or slightly rising above it. In order thoroughly to disguise these
ingenious traps, grasses and weeds are thrown carelessly over and
around them.”
The Ovambos are fond of amusing themselves with a dance, which seems
to be exceedingly agreeable to the performers, but which could not be
engaged in by those who are not well practised in its odd evolutions.
The dancers are all men, and stand in a double row, back to back. The
music, consisting of a drum and a kind of guitar, then strikes up,
and the performers begin to move from side to side, so as to pass and
repass each other. Suddenly, one of the performers spins round, and
delivers a tremendous kick at the individual who happens then to be
in front of him; and the gist of the dance consists in planting your
own kick and avoiding that of others. This dance takes place in the
evening, and is lighted by torches made simply of dried palm branches.
Nangoro used to give a dance every evening in his palace yard, which
was a most intricate building, a hundred yards or so in diameter, and a
very labyrinth of paths leading to dancing-floors, threshing-floors,
corn stores, women’s apartments, and the like.
Among the Ovambos there is no pauperism. This may not seem to be an
astonishing fact to those who entertain the popular idea of savage
life, namely, that with them there is no distinction of rich and
poor, master and servant. But, in fact, the distinctions of rank are
nowhere more sharply defined than among savages. The king or chief
is approached with a ceremony which almost amounts to worship; the
superior exacts homage, and the inferior pays it. Wealth is as much
sought after among savages as among Europeans, and a rich man is quite
as much respected on account of his wealth as if he had lived in Europe
all his life. The poor become servants to the rich, and, practically,
are their slaves, being looked down upon with supreme contempt.
Pauperism is as common in Africa as it is in Europe, and it is a matter
of great credit to the Ovambos that it is not to be found among them.
The Ovambos are ruled by a king, and entertain great contempt for all
the tribes who do not enjoy that privilege. They acknowledge petty
chiefs, each head of a family taking rank as such, but prefer monarchy
to any other form of government. As is the case with many other tribes,
the king becomes enormously fat, and is generally the only obese man in
the country. Nangoro, who was king some few years ago, was especially
remarkable for his enormous dimensions, wherein he even exceeded Panda,
the Kaffir monarch. He was so fat that his gait was reduced to a mere
waddle, and his breath was so short that he was obliged to halt at
every few paces, and could not speak two consecutive sentences without
suffering great inconvenience, so that in ordinary conversation his
part mostly consisted of monosyllabic grunts. His character was as
much in contrast to those of his subjects as was his person. He was a
very unpleasant individual,--selfish, cunning, and heartless. After
witnessing the effect of the fire-arms used by his white visitors,
he asked them to prove their weapons by shooting elephants. Had
they fallen into the trap which was laid for them, he would have
delayed their departure by all kinds of quibbles, kept up the work of
elephant-shooting, and have taken all the ivory himself.
After they had left his country, Nangoro despatched a body of men
after them, with orders to kill them all. The commander of the party,
however, took a dislike to his mission--probably from having witnessed
the effect of conical bullets when fired by the white men--and took his
men home again. One party, however, was less fortunate, and a fight
ensued. Mr. Green and some friends visited Nangoro, and were received
very hospitably. But, just before they were about to leave the
district, they were suddenly attacked by a strong force of the Ovambos,
some six hundred in number, all well armed with their native weapons,
the bow, the knob-kerrie, and the assagai, while the armed Europeans
were only thirteen in number.
Fortunately, the attack was not entirely unsuspected, as sundry little
events had happened which put the travellers on their guard. The
conflict was very severe, and in the end the Ovambos were completely
defeated, having many killed and wounded, and among the former one of
Nangoro’s sons. The Europeans, on the contrary, only lost one man, a
native attendant, who was treacherously stabbed before the fight began.
The most remarkable part of the fight was, that it caused the death of
the treacherous king, who was present at the battle. Although he had
seen fire-arms used, he had a poor opinion of their power, and had,
moreover, only seen occasional shots fired at a mark. The repeated
discharges that stunned his ears, and the sight of his men falling dead
and dying about him, terrified him so exceedingly that he died on the
spot from sheer fright.
The private character of this cowardly traitor was by no means a
pleasant one, and he had a petty way of revenging himself for any
fancied slight. On one occasion, when some native beer was offered to
Mr. Anderssen, and declined in consequence of an attack of illness,
Nangoro, who was sitting in front of the traveller, suddenly thrust at
him violently with his sceptre, and caused great pain. This he passed
off as a practical joke, though, as the sceptre was simply a pointed
stick, the joke was anything but agreeable to its victim. The real
reason for this sudden assault was, that Mr. Anderssen had refused to
grant the king some request which he had made.
He became jealous and sulky, and took a contemptible pleasure in
thwarting his white visitors in every way. Their refusal to shoot
elephants, and to undergo all the dangers of the hunt, while he was to
have all the profits, was a never-failing source of anger, and served
as an excuse for refusing all accommodation. They could not even go
half a mile out of camp without first obtaining permission, and, when
they asked for guides to direct them on their journey, he refused,
saying that those who would not shoot elephants for him should have
no guides from him. In fine, he kept them in his country until he had
exacted from them everything which they could give him, and, by way
of royal remuneration for their gifts, once sent them a small basket
of flour. He was then glad to get rid of them, evidently fearing that
he should have to feed them, and, by way of extraordinary generosity,
expedited their departure with a present of corn, not from his own
stores, but from those of his subjects, and which, moreover, arrived
too late. His treacherous conduct in sending after the European party,
and the failure of his plans, have already been mentioned.
The Ovambo tribe are allowed to have as many wives as they please,
provided that they can be purchased at the ordinary price. This price
differs, not so much from the charms or accomplishments of the bride,
as from the wealth of the suitor. The price of wives is much lower
than among the Kaffirs, two oxen and one cow being considered the
ordinary sum which a man in humble circumstances is expected to pay,
while a man of some wealth cannot purchase a wife under three oxen
and two cows. The only exception to this rule is afforded by the king
himself, who takes as many wives as he pleases without paying for them,
the honor of his alliance being considered a sufficient remuneration.
One wife always takes the chief place, and the successor to the rank
and property of his father is always one of her children. The law of
royal succession is very simple. When the king dies, the eldest son of
his chief wife succeeds him, but if she has no son, then the daughter
assumes the sceptre. This was the case with the fat king, Nangoro,
whose daughter Chipanga was the heir-apparent, and afterward succeeded
him.
It is, however, very difficult to give precise information on so
delicate a subject. The Ovambo tribe cannot endure to speak, or even
to think, of the state of man after death, and merely to allude to
the successor of a chief gives dire offence, as the mention of an
heir to property, or a successor to rank, implies the death of the
present chief. For the same reason, it is most difficult to extract
any information from them respecting their ideas of religion, and any
questions upon the subject are instantly checked. That they have some
notions of religion is evident enough, though they degrade it into
mere superstition. Charms of various kinds they value exceedingly,
though they seem to be regarded more as safeguards against injury from
man or beast than as possessing any sanctity of their own. Still, the
constitutional reticence of the Ovambo tribe on such subjects may cause
them to deny such sanctity to others, though they acknowledge it among
themselves.
As is the case with many of the South African tribes, the Ovambos make
great use of a kind of coarse porridge. They always eat it hot, and
mix with it a quantity of clotted milk or semi-liquid butter. They are
quite independent of spoons at their meals, and, in spite of the nature
of their food, do not even use the brush-spoon that is employed by the
Hottentots.
Mr. Anderssen, while travelling in the land of the Ovambos, was
hospitably received at a house, and invited to dinner. No spoons were
provided, and he did not see how he was to eat porridge and milk
without such aid. “On seeing the dilemma we were in, our host quickly
plunged his greasy fingers into the middle of the steaming mass, and
brought out a handful, which he dashed into the milk. Having stirred it
quickly round with all his might, he next opened his capacious mouth,
in which the agreeable mixture vanished as if by magic. He finally
licked his fingers, and smacked his lips with evident satisfaction,
looking at us as much as to say, ‘That’s the trick, my boys!’ However
unpleasant this initiation might have appeared to us, it would have
been ungrateful, if not offensive, to refuse. Therefore we commenced
in earnest, according to example, emptying the dish, and occasionally
burning our fingers, to the great amusement of our swarthy friends.”
On one occasion, the same traveller, who was accompanied by some
Damaras, fell in with a party of Ovambos, who gave them a quantity of
porridge meal of millet in exchange for meat. Both parties were equally
pleased, the one having had no animal food for a long time, and the
other having lived on flesh diet until they were thoroughly tired of
it. A great feast was the immediate result, the Ovambos revelling in
the unwonted luxury of meat, and the Europeans and Damaras only too
glad to obtain some vegetable food. The feast resembled all others,
except that a singular ceremony was insisted upon by the one party, and
submitted to by the other. The Damaras had a fair share of the banquet,
but, before they were allowed to begin their meal, one of the Ovambos
went round to them, and, after filling his mouth with water, spirted a
little of the liquid into their faces.
This extraordinary ceremony was invented by the king Nangoro when
he was a young man. Among their other superstitions, the Ovambos
have an idea that a man is peculiarly susceptible to witchcraft at
meal-times, and that it is possible for a wizard to charm away the life
of any one with whom he may happen to eat. Consequently, all kinds of
counter-charms are employed, and, as the one in question was invented
by the king, it was soon adopted by his loyal subjects, and became
fashionable throughout the land. So wedded to this charm was Nangoro
himself, that when Mr. Galton first visited him he was equally alarmed
and amazed at the refusal of the white man to submit to the aspersion.
At last he agreed to compromise the matter by anointing his visitor’s
head with butter, but, as soon as beer was produced, he again became
suspicious, and would not partake of it, nor even remain in the house
while it was being drunk.
He would not even have consented to the partial compromise, but for
a happy idea that white men were exceptional beings, not subject to
the ordinary laws of Nature. That there was a country where they
were the lords of the soil he flatly refused to believe, but, as Mr.
Galton remarks, considered them simply as rare migratory animals of
considerable intelligence.
It is a rather curious fact that, although the Damaras are known never
to take salt with their food, the Ovambos invariably make use of that
condiment.
They have a rather odd fashion of greeting their friends. As soon as
their guests are seated, a large dish of fresh butter is produced, and
the host or the chief man present rubs the face and breast of each
guest with the butter. They seem to enjoy this process thoroughly, and
cannot understand why their white guests should object to a ceremony
which is so pleasing to themselves. Perhaps this custom may have some
analogy with their mode of treating the Damaras at meal-times. The
Ovambos still retain a ceremony which is precisely similar to one which
prevails through the greater part of the East. If a subject should come
into the presence of his king, if a common man should appear before his
chief, he takes off his sandals before presuming to make his obeisance.
The reader may remember that on page 314, certain observances connected
with fire are in use among the Damaras. The Ovambo tribe have a
somewhat similar idea on the subject, for, when Mr. Anderssen went to
visit Nangoro, the king of the Ovambos, a messenger was sent from the
king bearing a brand kindled at the royal fire. He first extinguished
the fire that was already burning, and then re-kindled it with the
glowing brand, so that the king and his visitor were supposed to be
warmed by the same fire. In this ceremony there is a delicate courtesy,
not unmixed with poetical feeling.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE MAKOLOLO TRIBE.
RISE AND FALL OF AFRICAN TRIBES -- ORIGIN OF THE MAKOLOLO TRIBE --
ORGANIZATION BY SEBITUANE -- INCAPACITY OF HIS SUCCESSOR, SEKELETU
-- MODE OF GOVERNMENT -- APPEARANCE OF THE MAKOLOLO -- THEIR GENERAL
CHARACTER -- HONESTY -- GRACEFUL MODE OF MAKING PRESENTS -- MODE OF
SALUTATION -- FOOD AND COOKING -- A MAKOLOLO FEAST -- ETIQUETTE AT
MEALS -- MANAGEMENT OF CANOES -- THE WOMEN, THEIR DRESS AND MANNERS
-- THEIR COLOR -- EASY LIFE LED BY THEM -- HOUSE-BUILDING -- CURIOUS
MODE OF RAISING THE ROOF -- HOW TO HOUSE A VISITOR -- LAWSUITS AND
SPECIAL PLEADING -- GAME LAWS -- CHILDREN’S GAMES -- A MAKOLOLO
VILLAGE -- M’BOPO AT HOME -- TOBY FILLPOT -- MAKOLOLO SONGS AND
DANCES -- HEMP-SMOKING, AND ITS DESTRUCTIVE EFFECTS -- TREATMENT OF
THE SICK, AND BURIAL OF THE DEAD.
In the whole of Africa south of the equator, we find the great events
of the civilized world repeated on a smaller scale. Civilized history
speaks of the origin and rise of nations, and the decadence and fall
of empires. During a course of many centuries, dynasties have arisen
and held their sway for generations, hiding away by degrees before the
influx of mightier races. The kingdoms of Egypt, Assyria, Babylon,
Greece, Rome, Persia, and the like, have lasted from generation after
generation, and some of them still exist, though with diminished
powers. The Pharaohs have passed from the face of the earth, and their
metropolis is a desert; but Athens and Rome still retain some traces of
their vanished glories.
In Southern Africa, however, the changes that take place, though
precisely similar in principle, are on a much smaller scale, both of
magnitude and duration, and a traveller who passes a few years in the
country may see four or five changes of dynasty in that brief period.
Within the space of an ordinary life-time, for example, the fiery
genius of Tchaka gathered a number of scattered tribes into a nation,
and created a dynasty, which, when deprived of its leading spirit,
fell into decline, and has yearly tended to return to the original
elements of which it was composed. Then the Hottentots have come from
some unknown country, and dispossessed the aborigines of the Cape so
completely that no one knows what those aborigines were. In the case
of islands, such us the Polynesian group, or even the vast island of
Australia, we know what the aborigines must have been; but we have no
such knowledge with regard to Southern Africa, and in consequence the
extent of our knowledge is, that the aborigines, whoever they might
have been, were certainly not Hottentots. Then the Kaffirs swept down
and ejected the Hottentots, and the Dutch and other white colonists
ejected the Kaffirs.
So it has been with the tribe of the Makololo, which, though thinly
scattered, and by no means condensed, has contrived to possess a
large portion of Southern Africa. Deriving their primary origin from
a branch of the great Bechuana tribe, and therefore retaining many of
the customs of that tribe together with its skill in manufactures,
they were able to extend themselves far from their original home, and
by degrees contrived to gain the dominion over the greater part of the
country as far as lat. 14° S. Yet, in 1861, when Dr. Livingstone passed
through the country of the Makololo, he saw symptoms of its decadence.
They had been organized by a great and wise chief named Sebituane, who
carried out to the fullest extent the old Roman principle of mercy
to the submissive, and war to the proud. Sebituane owed much of his
success to his practice of leading his troops to battle in person. When
he came within sight of the enemy, he significantly felt the edge of
his battle-axe, and said, “Aha! it is sharp, and whoever turns his
back on the enemy will feel its edge.” Being remarkably fleet of foot,
none of his soldiers could escape from him, and they found that it was
far safer to fling themselves on the enemy with the chance of repelling
him, than run away with the certainty of being cut down by the chief’s
battle-axe. Sometimes a cowardly soldier skulked, or hid himself.
Sebituane, however, was not to be deceived, and, after allowing him to
return home, he would send for the delinquent, and, after mockingly
assuming that death at home was preferable to death on the field of
battle, would order him to instant execution.
He incorporated the conquered tribes with his own Makololo, saying
that, when they submitted to his rule, they were all children of the
chief, and therefore equal; and he proved his words by admitting them
to participate in the highest honors, and causing them to intermarry
with his own tribe. Under him was an organized system of head chiefs,
and petty chiefs and elders, through whom Sebituane knew all the
affairs of his kingdom, and guided it well and wisely. But, when he
died, the band that held together this nation was loosened, and bid
fair to give way altogether. His son and successor, Sekeletu, was
incapable of following the example of his father. He allowed the
prejudices of race to be again developed, and fostered them himself by
studiously excluding all women except the Makololo from his harem, and
appointing none but Makololo men to office.
Consequently, he became exceedingly unpopular among those very tribes
whom his father had succeeded in conciliating, and, as a natural
result, his chiefs and elders being all Makololo men, they could
not enjoy the confidence of the incorporated tribes, and thus the
harmonious system of Sebituane was broken up. Without confidence in
their rulers, a people cannot retain their position as a great nation;
and Sekeletu, in forfeiting that confidence, sapped with his own hands
the foundation of his throne. Discontent began to show itself, and his
people drew unfavorable contrasts between his rule and that of his
father, some even doubting whether so weak and purposeless a man could
really be the son of their lamented chief, the “Great Lion,” as they
called him. “In his days,” said they, “we had great chiefs, and little
chiefs, and elders, to carry on the government, and the great chief,
Sebituane, knew them all, and the whole country was wisely ruled. But
now Sekeletu knows nothing of what his underlings do, and they care not
for him, and the Makololo power is fast passing away.”
Then Sekeletu fell ill of a horrible and disfiguring disease, shut
himself up in his house, and would not show himself; allowing no
one to come near him but one favorite, through whom his orders were
transmitted to the people. But the nation got tired of being ruled by
deputy, and consequently a number of conspiracies were organized, which
never could have been done under the all-pervading rule of Sebituane,
and several of the greater chiefs boldly set their king at defiance.
As long as Sekeletu lived, the kingdom retained a nominal, though not
a real existence, but within a year after his death, which occurred in
1864, civil wars sprang up on every side; the kingdom thus divided was
weakened, and unable to resist the incursions of surrounding tribes,
and thus, within the space of a very few years, the great Makololo
empire fell to pieces. According to Dr. Livingstone, this event was
much to be regretted, because the Makololo were not slave-dealers,
whereas the tribes which eventually took possession of their land were
so; and, as their sway extended over so large a territory, it was a
great boon that the abominable slave traffic was not permitted to exist.
Mr. Baines, who knew both the father and the son, has the very meanest
opinion of the latter, and the highest of the former. In his notes,
which he has kindly placed at my disposal, he briefly characterizes
them as follows:--“Sebituane, a polished, merciful man. Sekeletu, his
successor, a fast young snob, with no judgment. Killed off his father’s
councillors, and did as he liked. Helped the missionaries to die rather
than live, even if he did not intentionally poison them--then plundered
their provision stores.”
The true Makololo are a fine race of men, and are lighter in color than
the surrounding tribes, being of a rich warm brown, rather than black,
and they are rather peculiar in their intonation, pronouncing each
syllable slowly and deliberately.
The general character of this people seems to be a high one, and
in many respects will bear comparison with the Ovambo. Brave they
have proved themselves by their many victories, though it is rather
remarkable that they do not display the same courage when opposed to
the lion as when engaged in warfare against their fellow-men. Yet they
are not without courage and presence of mind in the hunting-field,
though the dread king of beasts seems to exercise such an influence
over them that they fear to resist his inroads. The buffalo is
really quite as much to be dreaded as the lion, and yet the Makololo
are comparatively indifferent when pursuing it. The animal has an
unpleasant habit of doubling back on its trail, crouching in the bush,
allowing the hunters to pass its hiding-place, and then to charge
suddenly at them with such a force and fury that it scatters the bushes
before its headlong rush like autumn leaves before the wind. Yet the
Makololo hunters are not in the least afraid of this most formidable
animal, but leap behind a tree as it charges, and then hurl their
spears as it passes them.
Hospitality is one of their chief virtues, and it is exercised with
a modesty which is rather remarkable. “The people of every village,”
writes Livingstone, “treated us most liberally, presenting, besides
oxen, butter, milk, and meal, more than we could stow away in our
canoes. The cows in this valley are now yielding, as they frequently
do, more milk than the people can use, and both men and women present
butter in such quantities, that I shall be able to refresh my men as we
go along. Anointing the skin prevents the excessive evaporation of the
fluids of the body, and acts as clothing in both sun and shade.
“They always made their presents gracefully. When an ox was given,
the owner would say, ‘Here is a little bit of bread for you.’ This
was pleasing, for I had been accustomed to the Bechuanas presenting
a miserable goat, with the pompous exclamation, ‘Behold an ox!’ The
women persisted in giving me copious supplies of shrill praises, or
‘lullilooing,’ but although I frequently told them to modify their
‘Great Lords,’ and ‘Great Lions,’ to more humble expressions, they so
evidently intended to do me honor, that I could not help being pleased
with the poor creatures’ wishes for our success.”
One remarkable instance of the honesty of this tribe is afforded by Dr.
Livingstone. In 1853, he had left at Linyanti, a place on the Zambesi
River, a wagon containing papers and stores. He had been away from
Linyanti, to which place he found that letters and packages had been
sent for him. Accordingly, in 1860, he determined on revisiting the
spot, and, when he arrived there, found that everything in the wagon
was exactly in the same state as when he left it in charge of the king
seven years before. The head men of the place were very glad to see him
back again, and only lamented that he had not arrived in the previous
year, which happened to be one of special plenty.
This honesty is the more remarkable, because they had good reason
to fear the attacks of the Matabele, who, if they had heard that a
wagon with property in it was kept in the place, would have attacked
Linyanti at once, in spite of its strong position amid rivers and
marshes. However, the Makololo men agreed that in that case they were
to fight in defence of the wagon, and that the first man who wounded
a Matabele in defence of the wagon was to receive cattle as a reward.
It is probable, however, that the great personal influence which Dr.
Livingstone exercised over the king and his tribe had much to do with
the behavior of these Makololo, and that a man of less capacity and
experience would have been robbed of everything that could be stolen.
When natives travel, especially if they should be headed by a chief,
similar ceremonies take place, the women being intrusted with the
task of welcoming the visitors. This they do by means of a shrill,
prolonged, undulating cry, produced by a rapid agitation of the tongue,
and expressively called “lullilooing.” The men follow their example,
and it is etiquette for the chief to receive all these salutations
with perfect indifference. As soon as the new comers are seated, a
conversation takes place, in which the two parties exchange news, and
then the head man rises and brings out a quantity of beer in large
pots. Calabash goblets are handed round, and every one makes it a point
of honor to drink as fast as he can, the fragile goblets being often
broken in this convivial rivalry.
Besides the beer, jars of clotted milk are produced in plenty, and each
of the jars is given to one of the principal men, who is at liberty to
divide it as he chooses. Although originally sprung from the Bechuanas,
the Makololo disdain the use of spoons, preferring to scoop up the milk
in their hands, and, if a spoon be given to them, they merely ladle
out some milk from the jar, put it into their hands, and so eat it.
A chief is expected to give several feasts of meat to his followers.
He chooses an ox, and hands it over to some favored individual, who
proceeds to kill it by piercing its heart with a slender spear. The
wound is carefully closed, so that the animal bleeds internally, the
whole of the blood, as well as the viscera, forming the perquisite of
the butcher.
Scarcely is the ox dead than it is cut up, the best parts, namely,
the hump and ribs, belonging to the chief, who also apportions the
different parts of the slain animal among his guests, just as Joseph
did with his brethren, each of the honored guests subdividing his own
portion among his immediate followers. The process of cooking is simple
enough, the meat being merely cut into strips and thrown on the fire,
often in such quantities that it is nearly extinguished. Before it is
half cooked, it is taken from the embers, and eaten while so hot that
none but a practised meat-eater could endure it, the chief object being
to introduce as much meat as possible into the stomach in a given time.
It is not manners to eat after a man’s companions have finished their
meal, and so each guest eats as much and as fast as he can, and acts as
if he had studied in the school of Sir Dugald Dalgetty. Neither is it
manners for any one to take a solitary meal, and, knowing this custom,
Dr. Livingstone always contrived to have a second cup of tea or coffee
by his side whenever he took his meals, so that the chief, or one of
the principal men, might join in the repast.
Among the Makololo, rank has its drawbacks as well as its privileges,
and among the former may be reckoned one of the customs which regulate
meals. A chief may not dine alone, and it is also necessary that at
each meal the whole of the provisions should be consumed. If Sekeletu
had an ox killed, every particle of it was consumed at a single meal,
and in consequence he often suffered severely from hunger before
another could be prepared for him and his followers. So completely is
this custom ingrained in the nature of the Makololo, that, when Dr.
Livingstone visited Sekeletu, the latter was quite scandalized that a
portion of the meal was put aside. However, he soon saw the advantage
of the plan, and after a while followed it himself, in spite of the
remonstrances of the old men; and, while the missionary was with him,
they played into each other’s hands by each reserving a portion for the
other at every meal.
Mention has been made of canoes. As the Makololo live much on the banks
of the river Zambesi, they naturally use the canoe, and are skilful in
its management. These canoes are flat-bottomed, in order to enable them
to pass over the numerous shallows of the Zambesi, and are sometimes
forty feet in length, carrying from six to ten paddlers, besides other
freight. The paddles are about eight feet in length, and, when the
canoe gets into shallow water, the paddles are used as punt-poles. The
paddlers stand while at work, and keep time as well as if they were
engaged in a University boat race, so that they propel the vessel with
considerable speed.
Being flat-bottomed, the boats need very skilful management, especially
in so rapid and variable a river as the Zambesi, where sluggish depths,
rock-beset shallows, and swift rapids, follow each other repeatedly.
If the canoe should happen to come broadside to the current, it would
inevitably be upset, and, as the Makololo are not all swimmers, several
of the crew would probably be drowned. As soon, therefore, as such a
danger seems to be impending, those who can swim jump into the water,
and guide the canoe through the sunken rocks and dangerous eddies.
Skill in the management of the canoe is especially needed in the chase
of the hippopotamus, which they contrive to hunt in its own element,
and which they seldom fail in securing, in spite of the enormous size,
the furious anger, and the formidable jaws of this remarkable animal.
The dress of the men differs but little from that which is in use in
other parts of Africa south of the equator, and consists chiefly of a
skin twisted round the loins, and a mantle of the same material thrown
over the shoulders, the latter being only worn in cold weather. The
Makololo are a cleanly race, particularly when they happen to be in the
neighborhood of a river or lake, in which they bathe several times
daily. The men, however, are better in this respect than the women,
who seem rather to be afraid of cold water, preferring to rub their
bodies and limbs with melted butter, which has the effect of making
their skins glossy, and keeping off parasites, but also imparting a
peculiarly unpleasant odor to themselves and their clothing.
As to the women, they are clothed in a far better manner than the men,
and are exceedingly fond of ornaments, wearing a skin kilt and kaross,
and adorning themselves with as many ornaments as they can afford.
The traveller who has already been quoted mentions that a sister of
the great chief Sebituane wore enough ornaments to be a load for an
ordinary man. On each leg she had eighteen rings of solid brass, as
thick as a man’s finger, and three of copper under each knee; nineteen
similar rings on her right arm, and eight of brass and copper on her
left. She had also a large ivory ring above each elbow, a broad band
of beads round her waist, and another round her neck, being altogether
nearly one hundred large and heavy rings. The weight of the rings on
her legs was so great, that she was obliged to wrap soft rags round
the lower rings, as they had begun to chafe her ankles. Under this
weight of metal she could walk but awkwardly, but fashion proved itself
superior to pain with this Makololo woman, as among her European
sisters.
Both in color and general manners, the Makololo women are superior to
most of the tribes. This superiority is partly due to the light warm
brown of their complexion, and partly to their mode of life. Unlike
the women of ordinary African tribes, those of the Makololo lead a
comparatively easy life, having their harder labors shared by their
husbands, who aid in digging the ground, and in other rough work. Even
the domestic work is done more by servants than by the mistresses of
the household, so that the Makololo women are not liable to that rapid
deterioration which is so evident among other tribes. In fact they have
so much time to themselves, and so little to occupy them, that they
are apt to fall into rather dissipated habits, and spend much of their
time in smoking hemp and drinking beer, the former habit being a most
insidious one, and apt to cause a peculiar eruptive disease. Sekeletu
was a votary of the hemp-pipe, and, by his over-indulgence in this
luxury, he induced the disease of which he afterward died.
The only hard work that falls to the lot of the Makololo women is that
of house-building, which is left entirely to them and their servants.
The mode of making a house is rather remarkable. The first business
is to build a cylindrical tower of stakes and reeds, plastered with
mud, and some nine or ten feet in height, the walls and floor being
smoothly plastered, so as to prevent them from harboring insects. A
large conical roof is then put together on the ground, and completely
thatched with reeds. It is then lifted by many hands, and lodged on
top of the circular tower. As the roof projects far beyond the central
tower, it is supported by stakes, and, as a general rule, the spaces
between these stakes are filled up with a wall or fence of reeds
plastered with mud. This roof is not permanently fixed either to the
supporting stakes or the central tower, and can be removed at pleasure.
When a visitor arrives among the Makololo, he is often lodged by the
simple process of lifting a finished roof off an unfinished house,
and putting it on the ground. Although it is then so low that a man
can scarcely sit, much less stand upright, it answers very well for
Southern Africa, where the whole of active life is spent, as a rule,
in the open air, and where houses are only used as sleeping-boxes.
The doorway that gives admission into the circular chamber is always
small. In a house that was assigned to Dr. Livingstone, it was only
nineteen inches in total height, twenty-two in width at the floor, and
twelve at the top. A native Makololo, with no particular encumbrance in
the way of clothes, makes his way through the doorway easily enough;
but an European with all the impediments of dress about him finds
himself sadly hampered in attempting to gain the penetration of a
Makololo house. Except through this door, the tower has neither light
nor ventilation. Some of the best houses have two, and even three, of
these towers, built concentrically within each other, and each having
its entrance about as large as the door of an ordinary dog-kennel.
Of course the atmosphere is very close at night, but the people care
nothing about that.
The illustration No. 2, upon the next page, is from a sketch furnished
by Mr. Baines. It represents a nearly completed Makololo house on
the banks of the Zambesi river, just above the great Victoria Falls.
The women have placed the roof on the building, and are engaged in
the final process of fixing the thatch. In the centre is seen the
cylindrical tower which forms the inner chamber, together with a
portion of the absurdly small door by which it is entered. Round it is
the inner wall, which is also furnished with its doorway. These are
made of stakes and withes, upon which is worked a quantity of clay,
well patted on by hand, so as to form a thick and strong wall. The clay
is obtained from ant-hills, and is generally kneaded up with cow-dung,
the mixture producing a kind of plaster that is very solid, and can be
made beautifully smooth. Even the wall which surrounds the building and
the whole of the floor are made of the same material.
It will be seen that there are four concentric walls in this building.
First comes the outer wall, which encircles the whole premises. Next is
a low wall which is built up against the posts that support the ends
of the rafters, and which is partly supported by them. Within this is
a third wall, which encloses what may be called the ordinary living
room of the house; and within all is the inner chamber, or tower, which
is in fact only another circular wall of much less diameter and much
greater height. It will be seen that the walls of the house itself
increase regularly in height, and decrease regularly in diameter, so as
to correspond with the conical roof.
On the left of the illustration is part of a millet-field, beyond which
are some completed houses. Among them are some of the fan-palms with
recurved leaves. That on the left is a young tree, and retains all its
leaves, while that on the right is an old one, and has shed the leaves
toward the base of the stem, the foliage and the thickened portion of
the trunk having worked their way gradually upward. More palms are
growing on the Zambesi River, and in the background are seen the vast
spray clouds arising from the Falls.
The comparatively easy life led by the Makololo women makes polygamy
less of a hardship to them than is the case among neighboring tribes,
and, in fact, even if the men were willing to abandon the system,
the women would not consent to do so. With them marriage, though it
never rises to the rank which it holds in civilized countries, is
not a mere matter of barter. It is true that the husband is expected
to pay a certain sum to the parents of his bride, as a recompense
for her services, and as purchase-money to retain in his own family
the children that she may have, and which would by law belong to her
father. Then again, when a wife dies her husband is obliged to send
an ox to her family, in order to recompense them for their loss, she
being still reckoned as forming part of her parent’s family, and her
individuality not being totally merged into that of her husband.
Plurality of wives is in vogue among the Makololo, and is, indeed,
an absolute necessity under the present conditions of the race, and
the women would be quite as unwilling as the men to have a system
of monogamy imposed upon them. No man is respected by his neighbors
who does not possess several wives, and indeed without them he could
not be wealthy, each wife tilling a certain quantity of ground, and
the produce belonging to a common stock. Of course, there are cases
where polygamy is certainly a hardship, as, for example, when old men
choose to marry very young wives. But on the whole, and under existing
conditions, polygamy is the only possible system.
[Illustration: (1.) OVAMBO HOUSES. (See page 316.)]
[Illustration: (2.) HOUSE BUILDING. (See page 328.)]
Another reason for the plurality of wives, as given by themselves, is
that a man with one wife would not be able to exercise that hospitality
which is one of the special duties of the tribe. Strangers are taken
to the huts and there entertained as honored quests, and as the women
are the principal providers of food, chief cultivators of the soil, and
sole guardians of the corn stores, their co-operation is absolutely
necessary for any one who desires to carry out the hospitable
institutions of his tribe. It has been mentioned that the men often
take their share in the hard work. This laudable custom, however,
prevailed most among the true Makololo men, the incorporated tribes
preferring to follow the usual African custom, and to make the women
work while they sit down and smoke their pipes.
The men have become adepts at carving wood, making wooden pots with
lids, and bowls and jars of all sizes. Moreover, of late years,
the Makololo have learned to think that sitting on a stool is
more comfortable than squatting on the bare ground, and have, in
consequence, begun to carve the legs of their stools into various
patterns.
Like the people from whom they are descended, the Makololo are a
law-loving race and manage their government by means of councils or
parliaments, resembling the pichos of the Bechuanas, and consisting
of a number of individuals assembled in a circle round the chief, who
occupies the middle. On one occasion, when there was a large halo round
the sun, Dr. Livingstone pointed it out to his chief boatman. The man
immediately replied that it was a parliament of the Barimo, _i. e._ the
gods, or departed spirits, who were assembled round their chief, _i.
e._ the sun.
For major crimes a picho is generally held, and the accused, if found
guilty, is condemned to death. The usual mode of execution is for two
men to grasp the condemned by his wrists, lead him a mile from the
town, and then to spear him. Resistance is not offered, neither is the
criminal allowed to speak. So quietly is the whole proceeding that, on
one very remarkable occasion, a rival chief was carried off within a
few yards of Dr. Livingstone without his being aware of the fact.
Shortly after Sebituane’s death, while his son Sekeletu was yet a
young man of eighteen, and but newly raised to the throne, a rival
named Mpepe, who had been appointed by Sebituane chief of a division
of the tribe, aspired to the throne. He strengthened his pretensions
by superstition, having held for some years a host of incantations,
at which a number of native wizards assembled, and performed a number
of enchantments so potent that even the strong-minded Sebituane was
afraid of him. After the death of that great chief Mpepe organized a
conspiracy whereby he should be able to murder Sekeletu and to take his
throne. The plot, however, was discovered, and on the night of its
failure his executioners came quietly to Mpepe’s fire, took his wrists,
led him out, and speared him.
Sometimes the offender is taken into the river in a boat, strangled,
and flung into the water, where the crocodiles are waiting to receive
him. Disobedience to the chief’s command is thought to be quite
sufficient cause for such a punishment. To lesser offences fines are
indicted, a parliament not being needed, but the case being heard
before the chief. Dr. Livingstone relates in a very graphic style the
manner in which these cases are conducted. “The complainant asks the
man against whom he means to lodge his complaint to come with him to
the chief. This is never refused. When both are in the kotla, the
complainant stands up and states the whole case before the chief and
people usually assembled there. He stands a few seconds after he has
done this to recollect if he has forgotten anything. The witnesses to
whom he has referred then rise up and tell all that they themselves
have seen or heard, but not anything that they have heard from others.
The defendant, after allowing some minutes to elapse, so that he may
not interrupt any of the opposite party, slowly rises, folds his cloak
about him, and in the most quiet and deliberate way he can assume,
yawning, blowing his nose, &c., begins to explain the affair, denying
the charge or admitting it, as the case may be.
“Sometimes, when galled by his remarks, the complainant utters a
sentence of dissent. The accused turns quietly to him and says, ‘Be
silent, I sat still while you were speaking. Cannot you do the same? Do
you want to have it all to yourself?’ And, as the audience acquiesce in
this bantering, and enforce silence, he goes on until he has finished
all he wishes to say in his defence. If he has any witnesses to the
truth of the facts of his defence, they give their evidence. No oath
is administered, but occasionally, when a statement is questioned,
a man will say, ‘By my father,’ or ‘By the chief, it is so.’ Their
truthfulness among each other is quite remarkable, but their system of
government is such that Europeans are not in a position to realize it
readily. A poor man will say in his defence against a rich one, ‘I am
astonished to hear a man so great as he make a false accusation,’ as if
the offence of falsehood were felt to be one against the society which
the individual referred to had the greatest interest in upholding.”
When a case is brought before the king by chiefs or other influential
men, it is expected that the councillors who attend the royal presence
shall give their opinions, and the permission to do so is inferred
whenever the king remains silent after having heard both parties. It is
a point of etiquette that all the speakers stand except the king, who
alone has the privilege of speaking while seated.
There is even a series of game-laws in the country, all ivory belonging
of right to the king, and every tusk being brought to him. This right
is, however, only nominal, as the king is expected to share the ivory
among his people, and if he did not do so, he would not be able to
enforce the law. In fact, the whole law practically resolves itself
into this: that the king gets one tusk and the hunters get the other,
while the flesh belongs to those who kill the animal. And, as the flesh
is to the people far more valuable than the ivory, the arrangement is
much fairer than appears at first sight.
Practically it is a system of make-believes. The successful hunters
kill two elephants, taking four tusks to the king, and make believe to
offer them for his acceptance. He makes believe to take them as his
right, and then makes believe to present them with two as a free gift
from himself. They acknowledge the royal bounty with abundant thanks
and recapitulation of titles, such as Great Lion, &c., and so all
parties are equally satisfied.
On page 319 I have described, from Mr. Baines’ notes, a child’s
toy, the only example of a genuine toy which he found in the whole
of Southern Africa. Among the Makololo, however, as well as among
Europeans, the spirit of play is strong in children, and they engage
in various games, chiefly consisting in childish imitation of the more
serious pursuits of their parents. The following account of their
play is given by Dr. Livingstone:--“The children have merry times,
especially in the cool of the evening. One of their games consists
of a little girl being carried on the shoulders of two others. She
sits with outstretched arms, as they walk about with her, and all
the rest clap their hands, and stopping before each hut, sing pretty
airs, some beating time on their little kilts of cow-skin, and others
making a curious humming sound between the songs. Excepting this and
the skipping-rope, the play of the girls consists in imitation of the
serious work of their mothers, building little huts, making small pots,
and cooking, pounding corn in miniature mortars, or hoeing tiny gardens.
“The boys play with spears of reeds pointed with wood, and small
shields, or bows and arrows; or amuse themselves in making little
cattle-pens, or cattle in clay,--they show great ingenuity in the
imitation of variously shaped horns. Some, too, are said to use slings,
but, as soon as they can watch the goats or calves, they are sent to
the field. We saw many boys riding on the calves they had in charge,
but this is an innovation since the arrival of the English with their
horses. Tselane, one of the ladies, on observing Dr. Livingstone noting
observations on the wet and dry bulb thermometers, thought that he too
was engaged in play. On receiving no reply to her question, which was
rather difficult to answer, as their native tongue has no scientific
terms, she said with roguish glee, ‘Poor thing! playing like a little
child!’”
On the opposite page I present my readers with another of Mr. Baines’s
sketches. The scene is taken from a Makololo village on the bank of the
river, and the time is supposed to be evening, after the day’s work is
over. In the midst are the young girls playing the game mentioned by
Mr. Anderssen, the central girl being carried by two others, and her
companions singing and clapping their hands. The dress of the young
girls is, as may be seen, very simple, and consists of leathern thongs,
varying greatly in length, but always so slight and scanty that they
do not hide the contour of the limbs. Several girls are walking behind
them, carrying pots and bundles on the head, another is breaking up the
ground with a toy hoe, while in the foreground is one girl pretending
to grind corn between two stones, another pounding in a small model
mortar, and a third with a rude doll carried as a mother carries her
child. The parents are leaning against their houses, and looking at
the sports of the children. On the left are seen some girls building a
miniature hut, the roof of which they are just lifting upon the posts.
In the foreground on the left are the boys engaged in their particular
games. Some are employed in making rude models of cattle and other
animals, while others are engaged in mimic warfare. In the background
is a boy who has gone out to fetch the flock of goats home, and is
walking in front of them, followed by his charge. A singular tree often
overhangs the houses and is very characteristic of that part of Africa.
In the native language it is called Mosaawe, and by the Portuguese,
Paopisa. It has a leaf somewhat like that of the acacia, and the
blossoms and fruit are seen hanging side by side. The latter very much
resembles a wooden cucumber, and is about as eatable.
On the same page is another sketch by Mr. Baines, representing a
domestic scene in a Makololo family. The house belongs to a chief named
M’Bopo, who was very friendly to Mr. Baines and his companions, and was
altogether a fine specimen of a savage gentleman. He was exceedingly
hospitable to his guests, not only feeding them well, but producing
great jars of pombe, or native beer, which they were obliged to consume
either personally or by deputy. He even apologized for his inability
to offer them some young ladies as temporary wives, according to the
custom of the country, the girls being at the time all absent, and
engaged in ceremonies very similar to those which have been described
when treating of the Bechuanas.
[Illustration: (1.) CHILDREN’S GAMES. (See page 332.)]
[Illustration: (2.) M’BOPO AT HOME. (See page 332.)]
M’Bopo is seated in the middle, and may be distinguished by the fact
that he is wearing all his hair, the general fashion being to crop it
and dress it in various odd ways. Just behind him is one of his chief
men, whom Mr. Baines was accustomed to designate as Toby Fillpot,
partly because he was very assiduous in filling the visitor’s jars
with pombe, and partly because he was more than equally industrious
in emptying them. It will be noticed that he has had his head shaved,
and that the hair is beginning to grow in little patches. Behind him
is another man, who has shaved his head at the sides, and allowed a
mere tuft of hair to grow along the top. In front of M’Bopo is a huge
earthen vessel full of pombe, and by the side of it is the calabash
ladle by which the liquid is transferred to the drinking vessels.
M’Bopo’s chief wife sits beside him, and is distinguished by the two
ornaments which she wears. On her forehead is a circular piece of hide,
kneaded while wet so as to form a shallow cone. The inside of this
cone is entirely covered with beads, mostly white, and scarlet in the
centre. Upon her neck is another ornament, which is valued very highly.
It is the base of a shell, a species of conus--the whole of which has
been ground away except the base. This ornament is thought so valuable
that when the great chief Shinte presented Dr. Livingstone with one,
he took the precaution of coming alone, and carefully closing the
tent door, so that none of his people should witness an act of such
extravagant generosity.
This lady was good enough to express her opinion of the white
travellers. They were not so ugly, said she, as she had expected. All
that hair on their heads and faces was certainly disagreeable, but
their faces were pleasant enough, and their hands were well formed, but
the great defect in them was, that they had no toes. The worthy lady
had never heard of boots, and evidently considered them as analogous to
the hoofs of cattle. It was found necessary to remove the boots, and
convince her that the white man really had toes.
Several of the inferior wives are also sitting on the ground. One of
them has her scalp entirely shaved, and the other has capriciously
diversified her head by allowing a few streaks of hair to go over the
top of the head, and another to surround it like a band. The reed door
is seen turned aside from the opening, and a few baskets are hanging
here and there upon the wall.
The Makololo have plenty of amusements after their own fashion, which
is certainly not that of an European. Even those who have lived among
them for some time, and have acknowledged that they are among the most
favorable specimens of African heathendom, have been utterly disgusted
and wearied with the life which they had to lead. There is no quiet
and no repose day or night, and Dr. Livingstone, who might be expected
to be thoroughly hardened against annoyance by trifles, states broadly
that the dancing, singing, roaring, jesting, story-telling, grumbling,
and quarrelling of the Makololo were a severer penance than anything
which he had undergone in all his experiences. He had to live with
them, and was therefore brought in close contact with them.
The first three items of savage life, namely, dancing, singing, and
roaring, seem to be inseparably united, and the savages seem to be
incapable of getting up a dance unless accompanied by roaring on the
part of the performers, and singing on the part of the spectators--the
latter sounds being not more melodious than the former. Dr. Livingstone
gives a very graphic account of a Makololo dance. “As this was the
first visit which Sekeletu had paid to this part of his dominions,
it was to many a season of great joy. The head men of each village
presented oxen, milk, and beer, more than the horde which accompanied
him could devour, though their abilities in that way are something
wonderful.
“The people usually show their joy and work off their excitement in
dances and songs. The dance consists of the men standing nearly naked
in a circle, with clubs or small battle-axes in their hands, and each
roaring at the loudest pitch of his voice, while they simultaneously
lift one leg, stamping twice with it, then lift the other and give one
stamp with it; this is the only movement in common. The arms and head
are thrown about also in every direction, and all this time the roaring
is kept up with the utmost possible vigor. The continued stamping makes
a cloud of dust ascend, and they leave a deep ring in the ground where
they have stood.
“If the scene were witnessed in a lunatic asylum, it would be nothing
out of the way, and quite appropriate as a means of letting off the
excessive excitement of the brain. But here, gray-headed men joined
in the performance with as much zest as others whose youth might be
an excuse for making the perspiration start off their bodies with
the exertion. Motebe asked what I thought of the Makololo dance. I
replied, ‘It is very hard work, and brings but small profit.’ ‘It is,’
he replied; ‘but it is very nice, and Sekeletu will give us an ox for
dancing for him.’ He usually does slaughter an ox for the dancers
when the work is over. The women stand by, clapping their hands, and
occasionally one advances within the circle, composed of a hundred men,
makes a few movements, and then retires. As I never tried it, and am
unable to enter into the spirit of the thing, I cannot recommend the
Makololo polka to the dancing world, but I have the authority of no
less a person than Motebe, Sekeletu’s father-in-law, for saying that
it is very nice.”
Many of the Makololo are inveterate smokers, preferring hemp even to
tobacco, because it is more intoxicating. They delight in smoking
themselves into a positive frenzy, “which passes away in a rapid stream
of unmeaning words, or short sentences, as, ‘The green grass grows,’
‘The fat cattle thrive,’ ‘The fishes swim.’ No one in the group pays
the slightest attention to the vehement eloquence, or the sage or silly
utterances of the oracle, who stops abruptly, and, the instant common
sense returns, looks foolish.” They smoke the hemp through water, using
a koodoo horn for their pipe, much in the way that the Damaras and
other tribes use it.
Over-indulgence in this luxury has a very prejudicial effect on the
health, producing an eruption over the whole body that is quite
unmistakable. In consequence of this effect, the men prohibit their
wives from using the hemp, but the result of the prohibition seems
only to be that the women smoke secretly instead of openly, and are
afterward discovered by the appearance of the skin. It is the more
fascinating, because its use imparts a spurious strength to the
body, while it enervates the mind to such a degree that the user is
incapable of perceiving the state in which he is gradually sinking, or
of exercising sufficient self-control to abandon or even to modify the
destructive habit. Sekeletu was a complete victim of the hemp-pipe,
and there is no doubt that the illness, something like the dreaded
“craw-craw” of Western Africa, was aggravated, if not caused, by
over-indulgence in smoking hemp.
The Makololo have an unbounded faith in medicines, and believe that
there is no ill to which humanity is subject which cannot be removed by
white man’s medicine. One woman who thought herself too thin to suit
the African ideas of beauty, asked for the medicine of fatness, and
a chief, whose six wives had only produced one boy among a number of
girls, was equally importunate for some medicine that would change the
sex of the future offspring.
The burial-places of the Makololo are seldom conspicuous, but in some
cases the relics of a deceased chief are preserved, and regarded with
veneration, so that the guardians cannot be induced to sell them even
for the most tempting prices.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE BAYEYE AND MAKOBA TRIBES.
MEANING OF THE NAME -- GENERAL APPEARANCE AND CHARACTER -- THIEVING
-- ABILITY IN FISHING -- CANOES -- ELEPHANT-CATCHING -- DRESS --
THE MAKOBA TRIBE -- THEIR LOCALITY -- A MAKOBA CHIEF’S ROGUERY --
SKILL IN MANAGING CANOES -- ZANGUELLAH AND HIS BOATS -- HIPPOPOTAMUS
HUNTING WITH THE CANOE -- STRUCTURE OF THE HARPOON -- THE REED-RAFT
AND ITS USES -- SUPERSTITIONS -- PLANTING TREES -- TRANSMIGRATION --
THE PONDORO AND HIS WIFE.
THE BAYEYE TRIBE.
As the Bayeye tribe has been mentioned once or twice during the account
of the Makololo, a few lines of notice will be given to them. They
originally inhabited the country about Lake Ngami, but were conquered
by another tribe, the Batoanas, and reduced to comparative serfdom.
The conquerors called them Bakoba, _i. e._ serfs, but they themselves
take the pretentious title of Bayeye, or Men. They attribute their
defeat to the want of shields, though the superior discipline of their
enemies had probably more to do with their victory than the mere fact
of possessing a shield.
On one notable occasion, the Bayeye proved conclusively that the shield
does not make the warrior. Their chief had taken the trouble to furnish
them with shields, hoping to make soldiers of them. They received the
gift with great joy, and loudly boasted of the prowess which they
were going to show. Unfortunately for them, a marauding party of the
Makololo came in sight, when the valiant warriors forgot all about
their shields, jumped into their canoes, and paddled away day and night
down the river, until they had put a hundred miles or so between them
and the dangerous spot.
In general appearance, the Bayeye bear some resemblance to the Ovambo
tribe, the complexion and general mould of features being of a similar
cast. They seem to have retained but few of their own characteristics,
having accepted those of their conquerors, whose dress and general
manners they have assumed. Their language bears some resemblance to
that of the Ovambo tribe, but they have contrived to impart into it a
few clicks which are evidently derived from the Hottentots.
They are amusing and cheerful creatures, and as arrant thieves and
liars as can well be found. If they can only have a pot on the fire
full of meat, and a pipe, their happiness seems complete, and they will
feast, dance, sing, smoke, and tell anecdotes all night long. Perhaps
their thievishness is to be attributed to their servile condition.
At all events, they will steal everything that is not too hot or
heavy for them, and are singularly expert in their art. Mr. Anderssen
mentions that by degrees his Bayeye attendants contrived to steal
nearly the whole of his stock of beads, and, as those articles are the
money of Africa, their loss was equivalent to failure in his journey.
Accordingly, he divided those which were left into parcels, marked each
separately, and put them away in the packages as usual. Just before the
canoes landed for the night, he went on shore, and stood by the head of
the first canoe while his servant opened the packages, in order to see
if anything had been stolen. Scarcely was the first package opened when
the servant exclaimed that the Bayeye had been at it. The next move was
to present his double-barrelled gun at the native who was in charge
of the canoe, and threaten to blow out his brains if all the stolen
property was not restored.
At first the natives took to their arms, and appeared inclined to
fight, but the sight of the ominous barrels, which they knew were
in the habit of hitting their mark, proved too much for them, and
they agreed to restore the beads provided that their conduct was
not mentioned to their chief Lecholètébè. The goods being restored,
pardon was granted, with the remark that, if anything were stolen for
the future, Mr. Anderssen would shoot the first man whom he saw. This
threat was all-sufficient, and ever afterward the Bayeye left his goods
in peace.
In former days the Bayeye used to be a bucolic nation, having large
herds of cattle. These, however, were all seized by their conquerors,
who only permitted them to rear a few goats, which, however, they value
less for the flesh and milk than for the skins, which are converted
into karosses. Fowls are also kept, but they are small, and not of
a good breed. In consequence of the deprivation of their herds, the
Bayeye are forced to live on the produce of the ground and the flesh
of wild animals. Fortunately for them, their country is particularly
fertile, so that the women, who are the only practical agriculturists
have little trouble in tilling the soil. A light hoe is the only
instrument used, and with this the ground is scratched rather than
dug, just before the rainy season; the seed deposited almost at random
immediately after the first rains have fallen. Pumpkins, melons,
calabashes, and earth fruits are also cultivated, and tobacco is grown
by energetic natives.
There are also several indigenous fruits, one of which, called the
“moshoma,” is largely used. The tree on which it grows is a very tall
one, the trunk is very straight, and the lowermost branches are at a
great height from the ground. The fruit can therefore only be gathered
when it falls by its own ripeness. It is first dried in the sun, and
then prepared for storage by being pounded in a wooden mortar. When
used, it is mixed with water until it assumes a cream-like consistency.
It is very sweet, almost as sweet as honey, which it much resembles
in appearance. Those who are accustomed to its use find it very
nutritious, but to strangers it is at first unwholesome, being apt to
derange the digestive system. The timber of the moshama-tree is useful,
being mostly employed in building canoes.
The Bayeye are very good huntsmen, and are remarkable for their skill
in capturing fish, which they either pierce with spears or entangle in
nets made of the fibres of a native aloe. These fibres are enormously
strong, as indeed is the case with all the varieties of the aloe
plant. The nets are formed very ingeniously from other plants besides
the aloe, such for example as the hibiscus, which grows plentifully
on river banks, and moist places in general. The float-ropes, _i. e._
those that carry the upper edge of the nets, are made from the “ifé”
(_Sanseviere Angolensis_), a plant that somewhat resembles the common
water-flag of England. The floats themselves are formed of stems of a
water-plant, which has the peculiarity of being hollow, and divided
into cells, about an inch in length, by transverse valves. The mode in
which the net is made is almost identical with that which is in use in
England. The shaft of the spear which the Bayeye use in catching fish
is made of a very light wood, so that, when the fish is struck, the
shaft of the spear ascends to the surface, and discharges the double
duty of tiring the wounded fish, and giving to the fisherman the means
of lifting his finny prey out of the water.
The Bayeye are not very particular as to their food, and not only eat
the ten fishes which, as they boast, inhabit their rivers, but also
kill and eat a certain water-snake, brown in color and spotted with
yellow, which is often seen undulating its devious course across the
river. It is rather a curious circumstance that, although the Bayeye
live so much on fish, and are even proud of the variety of the finny
tribe which their waters afford them, the more southern Bechuanas not
only refuse themselves to eat fish, but look with horror and disgust
upon all who do so.
The canoes of the Bayeye are simply trunks of trees hollowed out. As
they are not made for speed, but for use, elegance of shape is not at
all considered. If the tree trunk which is destined to be hewn into
a canoe happens to be straight, well and good. But it sometimes has
a bend, and in that case the canoe has a bend also. The Bayeye are
pardonably fond of their canoes, not to say proud of them. As Dr.
Livingstone well observes, they regard their rude vessels as an Arab
does his camel. “They have always fires in them, and prefer sleeping
in them when on a journey to spending the night on shore. ‘On land you
have lions,’ say they, ‘serpents, hyænas, as your enemies; but in your
canoe, behind a bank of reeds, nothing can harm you.’”
“Their submissive disposition leads to their villages being frequently
visited by hungry strangers. We had a pot on the fire in the canoe by
the way, and when we drew near the villages, devoured the contents.
When fully satisfied ourselves, I found that we could all look upon any
intruders with much complaisance, and show the pot in proof of having
devoured the last morsel.”
They are also expert at catching the larger animals in pitfalls, which
they ingeniously dig along the banks of the rivers, so as to entrap the
elephant and other animals as they come to drink at night. They plant
their pitfalls so closely together that it is scarcely possible for a
herd of elephants to escape altogether unharmed, as many as thirty or
forty being sometimes dug in a row, and close together. Although the
old and experienced elephants have learned to go in front of their
comrades, and sound the earth for concealed traps, the great number of
these treacherous pits often makes these precautions useless.
The dress of the Bayeye is much the same as that of the Batoanas and
their kinsfolk, namely, a skin wrapped round the waist, a kaross, and
as many beads and other ornaments as can be afforded. Brass, copper,
and iron are in great request as materials for ornaments, especially
among the women, who display considerable taste in arranging and
contrasting the colors of their simple jewelry. Sometimes a wealthy
woman is so loaded with beads, rings, and other decorations, that, as
the chief Secholètébè said, “they actually grunt under their burden” as
they walk along.
Their architecture is of the simplest description, and much resembles
that of the Hottentots, the houses being mere skeletons of sticks
covered with reed mats. Their amusements are as simple as their
habitations. They are fond of dancing, and in their gestures they
endeavor to imitate the movements of various wild animals--their walk,
their mode of feeding, their sports, and their battles. Of course they
drink, smoke, and take snuff whenever they have the opportunity. The
means for the first luxury they can themselves supply, making a sort of
beer, on which, by drinking vast quantities, they manage to intoxicate
themselves. Snuff-taking is essentially a manly practice, while smoking
hemp seems to be principally followed by the women. Still, there are
few men who will refuse a pipe of hemp, and perhaps no woman who will
refuse snuff if offered to her. On the whole, setting aside their
inveterate habits of stealing and lying, they are tolerably pleasant
people, and their naturally cheerful and lively disposition causes
the traveller to feel almost an affection for them, even though he
is obliged to guard every portion of his property from their nimble
fingers.
THE MAKOBA TRIBE.
Toward the east of Lake Ngami, there is a river called the Bo-tlet-le,
one end of which communicates indirectly with the lake, and the
other with a vast salt-pan. The consequence of this course is, that
occasionally the river runs in two directions, westward to the lake,
and eastward to the salt-pan; the stream which causes this curious
change flowing into it somewhere about the middle. The people who
inhabit this district are called Makoba, and, even if not allied to
the Bayeye, have much in common with them. In costume and general
appearance they bear some resemblance to the Bechuanas, except that
they are rather of a blacker complexion. The dress of the men sometimes
consists of a snake-skin some six or seven feet in length, and five or
six inches in width. The women wear a small square apron made of hide,
ornamented round the edge with small beads.
Their character seems much on a par with that of most savages, namely,
impulsive, irreflective, kindly when not crossed, revengeful when
angered, and honest when there is nothing to steal. To judge from the
behavior of some of the Makoba men, they are crafty, dishonest, and
churlish; while, if others are taken as a sample, they are simple,
good-natured, and hospitable. Savages, indeed, cannot be judged by
the same tests as would be applied to civilized races, having the
strength and craft of man with the moral weakness of children. The very
same tribe, and even the very same individuals, have obtained--and
deserved--exactly opposite characters from those who have known them
well, one person describing them as perfectly honest, and another
as arrant cheats and thieves. The fact is, that savages have no
moral feelings on the subject, not considering theft to be a crime
nor honesty a virtue, so that they are honest or not, according to
circumstances. The subjugated tribes about Lake Ngami are often honest
from a very curious motive.
They are so completely enslaved that they cannot even conceive the
notion of possessing property, knowing that their oppressors would
take by force any article which they happened to covet. They are so
completely cowed that food is the only kind of property that they can
appreciate, and they do not consider even that to be their own until
it is eaten. Consequently they are honest because there would be no
use in stealing. But, when white men come and take them under their
protection, the case is altered. At first, they are honest for the
reasons above mentioned, but when they begin to find that they are
paid for their services, and allowed to retain their wages, the idea
of property begins to enter their minds, and they desire to procure as
much as they can. Therefore, from being honest they become thieves.
They naturally wish to obtain property without trouble, and, as they
find that stealing is easier than working, they steal accordingly,
not attaching any moral guilt to taking the property of another, but
looking on it in exactly the same light as hunting or fishing.
Thus it is that the white man is often accused of demoralizing savages,
and converting them from a simple and honest race into a set of cheats
and thieves. Whereas, paradoxical as it may seem, the very development
of roguery is a proof that the savages in question have not been
demoralized, but have actually been raised in the social scale.
Mr. Chapman’s experiences of the Makoba tribe were anything but
agreeable. They stole, and they lied, and they cheated him. He had a
large cargo of ivory, and found that his oxen were getting weaker,
and could not draw their costly load. So he applied to the Makoba for
canoes, and found that they were perfectly aware of his distress, and
were ready to take advantage of it, by demanding exorbitant sums, and
robbing him whenever they could, knowing that he could not well proceed
without their assistance. At last he succeeded in hiring a boat in
which the main part of his cargo could be carried along the river. By
one excuse and another the Makoba chief delayed the start until the
light wagon had gone on past immediate recall, and then said that he
really could not convey the ivory by boat, but that he would be very
generous, and take his ivory across the river to the same side as the
wagon. Presently, the traveller found that the chief had contrived to
open a tin-box in which he kept the beads that were his money, and had
stolen the most valuable kinds. As all the trade depended on the beads
he saw that determined measures were needful, presented his rifle at
the breast of the chief’s son, who was on board during the absence
of his father, and assumed so menacing an aspect that the young man
kicked aside a lump of mud, which is always plastered into the bottom
of the boats, and discovered some of the missing property. The rest was
produced from another spot by means of the same inducement.
As soon as the threatening muzzles were removed, he got on shore, and
ran off with a rapidity that convinced Mr. Chapman that some roguery
was as yet undiscovered. On counting the tusks it was found that the
thief had stolen ivory as well as beads, but he had made such good use
of his legs that he could not be overtaken, and the traveller had to
put up with his loss as he best could.
Yet it would be unfair to give all the Makoba a bad character on
account of this conduct. They can be, and for the most part are, very
pleasant men, as far as can be expected from savages. Mr. Baines had
no particular reason to complain of them, and seems to have liked them
well enough.
The Makoba are essentially a boatman tribe, being accustomed to their
canoes from earliest infancy, and being obliged to navigate them
through the perpetual changes of this capricious river, which at one
time is tolerably quiet, and at another is changed into a series of
whirling eddies and dangerous rapids, the former being aggravated by
occasional back-flow of the waters. The canoes are like the racing
river-boats of our own country, enormously long in proportion to their
width, and appear to be so frail that they could hardly endure the
weight of a single human being. Yet they are much less perilous than
they look, and their safety is as much owing to their construction
as to the skill of their navigator. It is scarcely possible, without
having seen the Makoba at work, to appreciate the wonderful skill with
which they manage their frail barks, and the enormous cargoes which
they will take safely through the rapids. It often happens that the
waves break over the side, and rush into the canoe, so that, unless the
water were baled out, down the vessel must go.
The Makoba, however, do not take the trouble to stop when engaged in
baling out their boats, nor do they use any tool for this purpose. When
the canoe gets too full of water, the boatman goes to one end of it
so as to depress it, and cause the water to run toward him. With one
foot he then kicks out the water, making it fly from his instep as if
from a rapidly-wielded scoop. In fact, the canoe is to the Makoba what
the camel is to the Arab, and the horse to the Comanches, and, however
they may feel an inferiority on shore, they are the masters when on
board their canoes. The various warlike tribes which surround them
have proved their superiority on land, but when once they are fairly
launched into the rapids of the river or the wild waves of the lake,
the Makobas are masters of the situation, and the others are obliged to
be very civil to them.
One of the typical men of this tribe was Makáta, a petty chief, or
headman of a village. He was considered to be the best boatman and
hunter on the river, especially distinguishing himself in the chase of
the hippopotamus. The illustration No. 1 on page 351 is from a sketch
by Mr. Baines, who depicts forcibly the bold and graceful manner in
which the Makobas manage their frail craft. The spot on which the
sketch was taken is a portion of the Bo-tlet-le river, and shows the
fragile nature of the canoes, as well as the sort of water through
which the daring boatman will take them. The figure in the front of
the canoe is a celebrated boatman and hunter named Zanguellah. He was
so successful in the latter pursuit that his house and court-yard
were filled with the skulls of the hippopotami which he had slain
with his own hand. He is standing in the place of honor, and guiding
his boat with a light but strong pole. The other figure is that of
his assistant. He has been hunting up the river, and has killed two
sable antelopes, which he is bringing home. The canoe is only fifteen
or sixteen feet long, and eighteen inches wide, and yet Zanguellah
ventured to load it with two large and heavy antelopes, besides the
weight of himself and assistant. So small are some of these canoes,
that if a man sits in them, and places his hands on the sides, his
fingers are in the water.
The reeds that are seen on the left of the illustration are very
characteristic of the country. Wherever they are seen the water is sure
to be tolerably deep--say at least four or five feet--and they grow to
a great height, forming thick clumps some fifteen feet in height. It
often happens that they are broken by the hippopotamus or other aquatic
creatures, and then they lie recumbent on the water, with their heads
pointing down the stream. When this is the case, they seem to grow _ad
libitum_, inasmuch as the water supports their weight, and the root
still continues to supply nourishment.
In the background are seen two canoes propelled by paddles. The scene
which is here represented really occurred, and was rather a ludicrous
one. The first canoe belongs to the Makololo chief, M’Bopo, who was
carrying Messrs. Baines and Chapman in his canoe. He was essentially a
gentleman, being free from the habit of constant begging which makes
so many savages disagreeable. He had been exceedingly useful to the
white men, who intended to present him with beads as a recompense for
his services. It so happened that another chief, named Moskotlani, who
was a thorough specimen of the begging, pilfering, unpleasant native,
suspected that his countryman might possibly procure beads from the
white men, and wanted to have his share. So he stuck close by M’Bopo’s
canoe, and watched it so jealously that no beads could pass without
his knowledge. However, Moskotlani had his paddle, and M’Bopo had
his beads, though they were given to him on shore, where his jealous
compatriot could not see the transaction.
It has been mentioned that Makáta was a mighty hunter as well as an
accomplished boatman, and, indeed, great skill in the management of
canoes is an absolute essential in a hunter’s life, inasmuch as the
chief game is the hippopotamus. The next few pages will be given to
the bold and sportsmanlike mode of hunting the hippopotamus which is
employed by the Makoba and some other tribes, and the drawings which
illustrate the account are from sketches by Mr. Baines. As these
sketches were taken on the spot, they have the advantage of perfect
accuracy, while the fire and spirit which animates them could only have
been attained by one who was an eye-witness as well as an artist.
According to Dr. Livingstone, these people are strangely fearful of the
lion, while they meet with perfect unconcern animals which are quite
as dangerous, if not more so. That they will follow unconcernedly the
buffalo into the bush has already been mentioned, and yet the buffalo
is even more to be dreaded than the lion himself, being quite as
fierce, more cunning, and more steadily vindictive. A lion will leap on
a man with a terrific roar, strike him to the ground, carry him off to
the den, and then eat him, so that the pressure of hunger forms some
excuse for the act. But, with the buffalo no such excuse can be found.
A “rogue” buffalo, _i. e._, one which has been driven from his fellows,
and is obliged to lead a solitary life, is as fierce, as cunning, and
as treacherous an animal as can be found. He does not eat mankind, and
yet he delights in hiding in thick bushes, rushing out unexpectedly
on any one who may happen to approach, and killing him at a blow. Nor
is he content with the death of his victim. He stands over the body,
kneels on it, pounds it into the earth with his feet, walks away, comes
back again, as if drawn by some irresistible attraction, and never
leaves it, until nothing is visible save a mere shapeless mass of bones
and flesh.
Yet against this animal the Makoba hunters will match themselves,
and they will even attack the hippopotamus, an animal which, in its
own element, is quite as formidable as the buffalo on land. Their
first care is to prepare a number of harpoons, which are made in the
following manner. A stout pole is cut of hard and very heavy wood some
ten or twelve feet long, and three or four inches in thickness. At one
end a hole is bored, and into this hole is slipped the iron head of the
harpoon. The shape of this head can be seen in the illustration No. 1
on page 343. It consists of a spear-shaped piece of iron, with a bold
barb, and is about a foot in length.
The head is attached to the shaft by a strong band composed of a
great number of small ropes or strands laid parallel to each other,
and being quite loosely arranged. The object of this multitude of
ropes is to prevent the hippopotamus from severing the cord with his
teeth, which are sharp as a chisel, and would cut through any single
cord with the greatest ease. The animal is sure to snap at the cords
as soon as he feels the wound, but, on account of the loose manner
in which they are laid, they only become entangled among the long
curved teeth, and, even if one or two are severed, the others retain
their hold. To the other end of the shaft is attached a long and
strongly-made rope of palm-leaf, which is coiled up in such manner as
to be carried out readily when loosened. Each canoe has on board two or
three of these harpoons, and a quantity of ordinary spears. Preserving
perfect silence, the boatmen allow themselves to float down the stream
until they come to the spot which has been chosen by the herd for a
bathing-place. They do not give chase to any particular animal, but
await until one of them comes close to the boat, when the harpooner
takes his weapon, strikes it into the animal’s back and loosens his
hold.
The first illustration on page 343 represents this phase of the
proceedings. In the front is seen the head of a hippopotamus as it
usually appears when the animal is swimming, the only portion seen
above the water being the ears, the eyes, and the nostrils. It is a
remarkable fact that when the hippopotamus is at liberty in its native
stream, not only the ears and the nostrils, but even the ridge over the
eyes are of a bright scarlet color, so brilliant indeed that color can
scarcely convey an idea of the hue. The specimens in the Zoological
Gardens, although fine examples of the species, never exhibit this
brilliancy of color, and, indeed, are no more like the hippopotamus in
its own river than a prize hog is like a wild boar.
A very characteristic attitude is shown in the second animal, which
is represented as it appears when lifting its head out of the water
for the purpose of reconnoitring. The horse-like expression is easily
recognizable, and Mr. Baines tells me that he never understood how
appropriate was the term River Horse (which is the literal translation
of the word hippopotamus) until he saw the animals disporting
themselves at liberty in their own streams.
In the front of the canoes is standing Makáta, about to plunge the
harpoon into the back of the hippopotamus, while his assistants are
looking after the rope, and keeping themselves in readiness to paddle
out of the way of the animal, should it make an attack. Perfect
stillness is required for planting the harpoon properly, as, if a
splash were made in the water, or a sudden noise heard on land, the
animals would take flight, and keep out of the way of the canoes.
On the left is a clump of the tall reeds which have already been
mentioned, accompanied by some papyrus. The huge trees seen on the
bank are baobabs, which sometimes attain the enormous girth of a
hundred feet and even more. The small white flowers that are floating
on the surface of the water are the white lotus. They shine out very
conspicuously on the bosom of the clear, deep-blue water, and sometimes
occur in such numbers that they look like stars in the blue firmament,
rather than mere flowers on the water. It is rather curious, by the
way, that the Damaras, who are much more familiar with the land than
the water, call the hippopotamus the Water Rhinoceros, whereas the
Makoba, Batoka, and other tribes, who are more at home on the water,
call the rhinoceros the Land Hippopotamus.
Now comes the next scene in this savage and most exciting drama. Stung
by the sudden and unexpected pang of the wound, the hippopotamus gives
a convulsive spring, which shakes the head of the harpoon out of its
socket, and leaves it only attached to the shaft by its many-stranded
rope. At this period, the animal seldom shows fight, but dashes down
the stream at its full speed, only the upper part of its head and
back being visible above the surface, and towing the canoe along as
if it were a cork. Meanwhile, the harpooner and his comrades hold
tightly to the rope, paying out if necessary, and hauling in whenever
possible--in fact, playing their gigantic prey just as an angler plays
a large fish. Their object is twofold, first to tire the animal, and
then to get it into shallow water; for a hippopotamus in all its
strength, and with the advantage of deep water, would be too much even
for these courageous hunters. The pace that the animal attains is
something wonderful, and, on looking at its apparently clumsy means of
propulsion, the swiftness of its course is really astonishing.
Sometimes, but very rarely, it happens that the animal is so active
and fierce, that the hunters are obliged to cast loose the rope, and
make off as they best can. They do not, however, think of abandoning
so valuable a prey--not to mention the harpoon and rope--and manage
as well as they can to keep the animal in sight. At the earliest
opportunity, they paddle toward the wounded, and by this time weakened
animal, and renew the chase.
The hippopotamus is most dangerous when he feels his strength failing,
and with the courage of despair dashes at the canoe. The hunters have
then no child’s play before them. Regardless of everything but pain and
fury, the animal rushes at the canoe, tries to knock it to pieces by
blows from his enormous head, or seizes the edge in his jaws, and tears
out the side. Should he succeed in capsizing or destroying the canoe,
the hunters have an anxious time to pass; for if the furious animal
can gripe one of them in his huge jaws, the curved, chisel-like teeth
inflict certain death, and have been known to cut an unfortunate man
fairly in two.
Whenever the animal does succeed in upsetting or breaking the boat,
the men have recourse to a curious expedient. They dive to the bottom
of the river, and grasp a stone, a root, or anything that will keep
them below the surface, and hold on as long as their lungs will allow
them. The reason for this manœuvre is, that when the animal has sent
the crew into the river, it raises its head, as seen on page 343, and
looks about on the surface for its enemies. It has no idea of foes
beneath the surface, and if it does not see anything that looks like a
man, it makes off, and so allows the hunters to emerge, half drowned,
into the air. In order to keep off the animal, spears are freely used;
some being thrust at him by hand, and others flung like javelins.
They cannot, however, do much harm, unless one should happen to enter
the eye, which is so well protected by its bony penthouse that it is
almost impregnable to anything except a bullet. The head is one huge
mass of solid bone, so thick and hard that even fire-arms make little
impression on it, except in one or two small spots. The hunters,
therefore, cannot expect to inflict any material damage on the animal,
and only hope to deter it from charging by the pain which the spears
can cause.
[Illustration: (1.) SPEARING THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. (See page 342.)]
[Illustration: (2.) THE FINAL ATTACK. (See page 345.)]
The last scene is now approaching. Having effectually tired the animal,
which is also weakened by loss of blood from the wound, and guided it
into shallow water, several of the crew jump overboard, carry the end
of the rope ashore, and pass it with a “double turn” round a tree. The
fate of the animal is then sealed. Finding itself suddenly checked
in its course, it makes new efforts, and fights and struggles as if
it were quite fresh. Despite the pain, it tries to tear itself away
from the fatal cord; but the rope is too strong to be broken, and the
inch-thick hide of the hippopotamus holds the barb so firmly that even
the enormous strength and weight of the animal cannot cause it to give
way. Finding that a fierce pull in one direction is useless, it rushes
in another, and thus slackens the rope, which is immediately hauled
taut by the hunters on shore, so that the end is much shortened, and
the animal brought nearer to the bank. Each struggle only has the same
result, the hunters holding the rope fast as long as there is a strain
upon it, and hauling it in as soon as it is slackened. The reader may
easily see how this is done by watching a sailor make fast a steamer to
the pier, a single man being able to resist the strain of several tons.
As soon as the hippopotamus is hauled up close to the bank, and its
range of movements limited, the rope is made fast, and the hunters all
combine for the final assault. Armed with large, heavy, long-bladed
spears, made for the express purpose, they boldly approach the
infuriated animal, and hurl their weapons at him. Should the water be
deep beyond him, some of the hunters take to their canoes, and are able
to attack the animal with perfect security, because the rope which
is affixed to the tree prevents him from reaching them. At last, the
unfortunate animal, literally worried to death by numerous wounds, none
of which would be immediately fatal, succumbs to fatigue and loss of
blood, and falls, never to rise again.
The second illustration on page 343 represents this, the most active
and exciting scene of the three. In the centre is the hippopotamus,
which has been driven into shallow water, and is plunging about in
mingled rage and terror. With his terrible jaws he has already crushed
the shaft of the harpoon, and is trying to bite the cords which secure
the head to the shaft. He has severed a few of them, but the others are
lying entangled among his teeth, and retain their hold. Some of the
hunters have just carried the end of the rope ashore, and are going to
pass it round the trunk of the tree, while some of their comrades are
boldly attacking the animal on foot, and others are coming up behind
him in canoes.
On the Zambesi River, a harpoon is used which is made on a similar
principle, but which differs in several details of construction.
The shaft is made of light wood, and acts as a float. The head fits
into a socket, like that which has already been mentioned; but,
instead of being secured to the shaft by a number of small cords, it
is fastened to one end of the long rope, the other end of which is
attached to the butt of the shaft. When arranged for use, the rope is
wound spirally round the shaft, which it covers completely. As soon
as the hippopotamus is struck, the shaft is shaken from the head by
the wounded animals struggles, the rope is unwound, and the light
shaft acts as a buoy, whereby the rope can be recovered, in case the
hippopotamus should sever it, or the hunters should be obliged to cast
it loose.
Sometimes these tribes, _i. e._ the Makololo, Bayeye, and others, use
a singularly ingenious raft in this sport. Nothing can be simpler than
the construction of this raft. A quantity of reeds are cut down just
above the surface, and are thrown in a heap upon the water. More reeds
are then cut, and thrown crosswise upon the others, and so the natives
proceed until the raft is formed. No poles, beams, nor other supports,
are used, neither are the reeds lashed together in bundles. They are
merely flung on the water, and left to entangle themselves into form.
By degrees the lower reeds become soaked with water, and sink, so that
fresh material must be added above. Nothing can look more insecure or
fragile than this rude reed-raft, and yet it is far safer than the
canoe. It is, in fact, so strong that it allows a mast to be erected on
it. A stout pole is merely thrust into the centre of the reedy mass,
and remains fixed without the assistance of stays. To this mast is
fastened a long rope, by means of which the raft can be moored when the
voyagers wish to land. One great advantage of the raft is, the extreme
ease with which it is made. Three or four skilful men can in the course
of an hour build a raft which is strong enough to bear them and all
their baggage.
The canoes are always kept fastened to the raft, so that the crew can
go ashore whenever they like, though they do not seem to tow or guide
the raft, which is simply allowed to float down the stream, and steers
itself without the aid of a rudder. Should it meet with any obstacle,
it only swings round and disentangles itself; and the chief difficulty
in its management is its aptitude to become entangled in overhanging
branches.
Such a raft as this is much used in the chase of the hippopotamus. It
looks like a mere mass of reeds floating down the stream, and does not
alarm the wary animal as much as a boat would be likely to do. When the
natives use the raft in pursuit of the hippopotamus, they always haul
their canoes upon it, so that they are ready to be launched in pursuit
of the buoy as soon as the animal is struck.
The same tribes use reeds if they wish to cross the river. They cut a
quantity of them, and throw them into the river as if they were going
to make a raft. They then twist up some of the reeds at each corner, so
as to look like small posts, and connect these posts by means of sticks
or long reeds, by way of bulwarks. In this primitive ferry-boat the man
seats himself, and is able to carry as much luggage as he likes, the
simple bulwarks preventing it from falling overboard.
It is rather a strange thing that a Makololo cannot be induced to
plant the mango tree, the men having imbibed the notion from other
tribes among whom they had been travelling. They are exceedingly fond
of its fruit, as well they may be, it being excellent, and supplying
the natives with food for several weeks, while it may be plucked in
tolerable abundance during four months of the year. Yet all the trees
are self-planted, the natives believing that any one who plants one of
these trees will soon die. This superstition is prevalent throughout
the whole of this part of Africa, the Batoka being almost the only
tribe among whom it does not prevail.
The Makololo have contrived to make themselves victims to a wonderful
number of superstitions. This is likely enough, seeing that they are
essentially usurpers, having swept through a vast number of tribes,
and settled themselves in the country of the vanquished. Now, there is
nothing more contagious than superstition, and, in such a case, the
superstitions of the conquered tribes are sure to be added to those of
the victors.
The idea that certain persons can change themselves into the forms of
animals prevails among them. One of these potent conjurers came to Dr.
Livingstone’s party, and began to shake and tremble in every limb as he
approached. The Makololo explained that the Pondoro, as these men are
called, smelled the gunpowder, and, on account of his leonine habits,
he was very much afraid of it. The interpreter was asked to offer the
Pondoro a bribe of a cloth to change himself into a lion forthwith, but
the man declined to give the message, through genuine fear that the
transformation might really take place.
The Pondoro in question was really a clever man. He used to go off into
the woods for a month at a time, during which period he was supposed
to be a lion. His wife had built him a hut under the shade of a baobab
tree, and used to bring him regular supplies of food and beer, his
leonine appetite being supposed to be subsidiary to that which belonged
to him as a human being. No one is allowed to enter this hut except the
Pondoro and his wife, and not even the chief will venture so much as to
rest his weapons against the baobab tree; and so strictly is this rule
observed that the chief of the village wished to inflict a fine on some
of Dr. Livingstone’s party, because they had placed their guns against
the sacred hut.
Sometimes the Pondoro is believed to be hunting for the benefit of
the village, catching and killing game as a lion, and then resuming
his human form, and telling the people where the dead animal is
lying. There is also among these tribes a belief that the spirits of
departed chiefs enter the bodies of lions, and this belief may probably
account for the fear which they feel when opposed to a lion, and their
unwillingness to attack the animal. In Livingstone’s “Zambesi and its
tributaries,” there is a passage which well illustrates the prevalence
of this feeling.
“On one occasion, when we had shot a buffalo in the path beyond the
Kapie, a hungry lion, attracted probably by the smell of the meat, came
close to our camp, and roused up all hands by his roaring. Tuba Mokoro
(the ‘Canoe-smasher’), imbued with the popular belief that the beast
was a chief in disguise, scolded him roundly during his brief intervals
of silence. ‘_You_ a chief! Eh! You call yourself a chief, do you? What
kind of a chief are you, to come sneaking about in the dark, trying
to steal our buffalo-meat? Are you not ashamed of yourself? A pretty
chief, truly! You are like the scavenger-beetle, and think of yourself
only. You have not the heart of a chief; why don’t you kill your
own beef? You must have a stone in your chest, and no heart at all,
indeed.’”
The “Canoe-smasher” producing no effect by his impassioned outcry, the
lion was addressed by another man named Malonga, the most sedate and
taciturn of the party. “In his slow, quiet way he expostulated with him
on the impropriety of such conduct to strangers who had never injured
him. ‘We were travelling peaceably through the country back to our own
chief. We never killed people, nor stole anything. The buffalo-meat
was ours, not his, and it did not become a great chief like him to be
prowling about in the dark, trying, like a hyæna, to steal the meat of
strangers. He might go and hunt for himself, as there was plenty of
game in the forest.’ The Pondoro being deaf to reason, and only roaring
the louder, the men became angry, and threatened to send a ball through
him if he did not go away. They snatched up their guns to shoot him,
but he prudently kept in the dark, outside of the luminous circle made
by our camp fires, and there they did not like to venture.”
Another superstition is very prevalent among these tribes. It is to
the effect that every animal is specially affected by an appropriate
medicine. Ordinary medicines are prepared by the regular witch-doctors,
of whom there are plenty; but special medicines require special
professionals. One man, for example, takes as his specialty the
preparation of elephant medicine, and no hunter will go after the
elephant without providing himself with some of the potent medicine.
Another makes crocodile medicine, the use of which is to protect its
owner from the crocodile. On one occasion, when the white man had shot
a crocodile as it lay basking in the sun, the doctors came in wrath,
and remonstrated with their visitors for shooting an animal which they
looked upon as their special property. On another occasion, when a
baited hook was laid for the crocodile, the doctors removed the bait,
partly because it was a dog, and they preferred to eat it themselves,
and partly because any diminution in the number of crocodiles would
cause a corresponding loss of fees.
Then since the introduction of fire-arms there are gun-doctors, who
make medicines that enable the gun to shoot straight. Sulphur is
the usual gun medicine, and is mostly administered by making little
incisions in the hands, and rubbing the sulphur into them. Magic dice
are also used, and are chiefly employed for the discovery of thieves.
Even the white men have come to believe in the efficacy of the dice,
and the native conjurer is consulted as often by the Portuguese as by
his own countrymen.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE BATOKA AND MANGANJA TRIBES.
LOCALITY OF THE BATOKA -- THEIR GENERAL APPEARANCE AND DRESS -- THEIR
SKILL AS BOATMEN -- THE BAENDA-PEZI, OR GO-NAKEDS -- AGRICULTURE --
MODE OF HUNTING -- MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS -- WAR CUSTOMS -- THE MANGANJA
TRIBE -- GOVERNMENT -- INDUSTRY OF BOTH SEXES -- SALUTATION -- DRESS
-- THE PELELE, OR LIP-RING -- TATTOOING -- WANT OF CLEANLINESS --
BEER-BREWING AND DRINKING -- EXCHANGING NAMES -- SUPERSTITIONS --
FUNERAL AND MOURNING.
Somewhere about lat. 17° S. and long. 27° E. is a tribe called the
Batoka, or Batonga, of which there are two distinct varieties; of whom
those who live on low-lying lands, such as the banks of the Zambesi,
are very dark, and somewhat resemble the negro in appearance, while
those of the higher lands are light brown, much of the same hue as
_café au lait_. Their character seems to differ with their complexions,
the former variety being dull, stupid, and intractable, while the
latter are comparatively intellectual.
They do not improve their personal appearance by an odd habit of
depriving themselves of their two upper incisor teeth. The want of
these teeth makes the corresponding incisors of the lower jaw project
outward, and to force the lip with them; so that even in youth they
all have an aged expression of countenance. Knocking out these teeth
is part of a ceremony which is practised on both sexes when they are
admitted into the ranks of men and women, and is probably the remains
of some religious rite. The reason which they give is absurd enough,
namely, that they like to resemble oxen, which have no upper incisors,
and not to have all their teeth like zebras. It is probable, however,
that this statement may be merely intended as an evasion of questions
which they think themselves bound to parry, but which may also have
reference to the extreme veneration for oxen which prevails in an
African’s mind.
In spite of its disfiguring effect, the custom is universal among the
various sub-tribes of which the Batoka are composed, and not even the
definite commands of the chief himself, nor the threats of punishment,
could induce the people to forego it. Girls and lads would suddenly
make their appearance without their teeth, and no amount of questioning
could induce them to state when, and by whom, they were knocked out.
Fourteen or fifteen is the usual age for performing the operation.
Their dress is not a little remarkable, especially the mode in which
some of them arrange their hair. The hair on the top of the head is
drawn and plastered together in a circle some six or seven inches in
diameter. By dint of careful training, and plenty of grease and other
appliances, it is at last formed into a cone some eight or ten inches
in height, and slightly leaning forward. In some cases the cone is of
wonderful height, the head-man of a Batoka village wearing one which
was trained into a long spike that projected a full yard from his head,
and which must have caused him considerable inconvenience. In this case
other materials were evidently mixed with the hair: and it is said that
the long hair of various animals is often added, so as to mingle with
the real growth, and aid in raising the edifice. Around the edges of
this cone the hair is shaven closely, so that the appearance of the
head is very remarkable, and somewhat ludicrous.
The figures of the second engraving on page 357 are portraits by Mr.
Baines. Mantanyani, the man who is sitting on the edge of the boat,
was a rather remarkable man. He really belongs to the Batoka tribe,
though he was thought at first to be one of the Makololo. Perhaps he
thought it better to assume the membership of the victorious than the
conquered tribe. This was certainly the case with many of the men who,
like Mantanyani, accompanied Dr. Livingstone. He was a singularly
skilful boatman, and managed an ordinary whaling boat as easily as one
of his own canoes. The ornament which he wears in his hair is a comb
made of bamboo. It was not manufactured by himself, but was taken from
Shimbesi’s tribe on the Shire, or Sheereh River. He and his companions
forced the boat up the many rapids, and, on being interrogated as to
the danger, he said that he had no fears, for that he could swim like a
fish, and that, if by any mischance he should allow Mr. Baines to fall
overboard and be drowned, he should never dare to show his face to Dr.
Livingstone again.
Mr. Baines remarks in his MS. notes, that Mantanyani ought to have made
a good sailor, for he was not only an adept at the management of boats,
but could appreciate rum as well as any British tar. It so happened
that at night, after the day’s boating was over, grog was served out to
the men, and yet for two or three nights Mantanyani would not touch it.
Accordingly one night the following colloquy took place:--
“Mantanyani, non quero grog?” (_i. e._ Cannot you take grog?)
“Non quero.” (I cannot.)
“Porquoi non quero grog?” (Why cannot you take grog?)
“Garaffa poco, Zambesi munta.” (The bottle is little and the Zambesi is
big.)
The hint was taken, and rum unmixed with water was offered to
Mantanyani, who drank it off like a sailor.
A spirited account of the skill of the natives in managing canoes is
given in “The Zambesi and its Tributaries.” The canoe belonged to a
man named Tuba Mokoro, or the “Canoe-smasher,” a rather ominous, but
apparently undeserved, title inasmuch as he proved to be a most skilful
and steady boatman. He seemed also to be modest, for he took no credit
to himself for his management, but attributed his success entirely to
a certain charm or medicine which he had, and which he kept a profound
secret. He was employed to take the party through the rapids to an
island close to the edge of the great Mosi-oa-tunya, _i. e._ Smoke
Sounding Falls, now called the Victoria Falls. This island can only be
reached when the water happens to be very low and, even in that case,
none but the most experienced boatmen can venture so near to the Fall,
which is double the depth of Niagara, and a mile in width, formed
entirely by a vast and sudden rift in the basaltic bed of the Zambesi.
“Before entering the race of water, we were requested not to speak, as
our talking might diminish the value of the medicine, and no one with
such boiling, eddying rapids before his eyes would think of disobeying
the orders of a ‘canoe-smasher.’ It soon became evident that there was
sound sense in the request of Tuba’s, though the reason assigned was
not unlike that of the canoe man from Sesheke, who begged one of our
party not to whistle, because whistling made the wind come.
“It was the duty of the man at the bow to look out ahead for the
proper course, and, when he saw a rock or a snag, to call out to the
steersman. Tuba doubtless thought that talking on board might divert
the attention of his steersman at a time when the neglect of an order,
or a slight mistake, would be sure to spill us all into the chafing
river. There were places where the utmost exertions of both men had to
be put forth in order to force the canoe to the only safe part of the
rapid and to prevent it from sweeping broadside on, when in a twinkling
we should have found ourselves among the plotuses and cormorants which
were engaged in diving for their breakfast of small fish.
“At times it seemed as if nothing could save us from dashing in our
headlong race against the rocks, which, now that the river was low,
jutted out of the water; but, just at the very nick of time, Tuba
passed the word to the steersman, and then, with ready pole, turned the
canoe a little aside, and we glided swiftly past the threatened danger.
Never was canoe more admirably managed. Once only did the medicine seem
to have lost something of its efficacy.
“We were driving swiftly down, a black rock over which the white foam
flew lay directly in our path, the pole was planted against it as
readily as ever, but it slipped just as Tuba put forth his strength
to turn the bow off. We struck hard, and were half full of water in a
moment. Tuba recovered himself as speedily, shoved off the bow, and
shot the canoe into a still, shallow place, to bail the water out.
He gave us to understand that it was not the medicine which was at
fault--_that_ had lost none of its virtue; the accident was owing to
Tuba having started without his breakfast. Need it be said that we
never let Tuba go without that meal again.”
Among them there is a body of men called in their own language the
“Baenda-pezi,” _i. e._ the Go-nakeds. These men never wear an atom of
any kind of clothing, but are entirely naked, their only coat being
one of red ochre. These Baenda-pezi are rather a remarkable set of
men, and why they should voluntarily live without clothing is not very
evident. Some travellers think that they are a separate order among the
Batoka, but this is not at all certain. It is not that they are devoid
of vanity, for they are extremely fond of ornaments upon their heads,
which they dress in various fantastic ways. The conical style has
already been mentioned, but they have many other fashions. One of their
favorite modes is, to plait a fillet of bark, some two inches wide, and
tie it round the head in diadem fashion. They then rub grease and red
ochre plentifully into the hair, and fasten it to the fillet, which
it completely covers. The head being then shaved as far as the edge
of the fillet, the native looks as if he were wearing a red, polished
forage-cap.
Rings of iron wire and beads are worn round the arms; and a fashionable
member of this order thinks himself scarcely fit for society unless
he carries a pipe and a small pair of iron tongs, with which to lift
a coal from the fire and kindle his pipe, the stem of which is often
ornamented by being bound with polished iron wire.
The Baenda-pezi seem to be as devoid of the sense of shame as their
bodies are of covering. They could not in the least be made to see that
they ought to wear clothing, and quite laughed at the absurdity of such
an idea; evidently looking on a proposal to wear clothing much as we
should entertain a request to dress ourselves in plate armor.
The pipe is in constant requisition among these men, who are seldom
seen without a pipe in their mouths, and never without it in their
possession. Yet, whenever they came into the presence of their white
visitors, they always asked permission before lighting their pipes,
an innate politeness being strong within them. Their tobacco is
exceedingly powerful, and on that account is much valued by other
tribes, who will travel great distances to purchase it from the Batoka.
It is also very cheap, a few beads purchasing a sufficient quantity
to last even these inveterate smokers for six months. Their mode of
smoking is very peculiar. They first take a whiff after the usual
manner, and puff out the smoke. But, when they have expelled nearly the
whole of the smoke, they make a kind of catch at the last tiny wreath,
and swallow it. This they are pleased to consider the very essence or
spirit of the tobacco, which is lost if the smoke is exhaled in the
usual manner.
The Batoka are a polite people in their way, though they have rather
an odd method of expressing their feelings. The ordinary mode of
salutation is for the women to clap their hands and produce that
ululating sound which has already been mentioned, and for the men to
stoop and clap their hands on their hips. But, when they wish to be
especially respectful, they have another mode of salutation. They
throw themselves on their backs, and roll from side to side, slapping
the outside of their thighs vigorously, and calling out “Kina-bomba!
kina-bomba!” with great energy. Dr. Livingstone says that he never
could accustom his eyes to like the spectacle of great naked men
wallowing on their backs and slapping themselves, and tried to stop
them. They, however, always thought that he was not satisfied with the
heartiness of his reception, and so rolled about and slapped themselves
all the more vigorously. This rolling and slapping seems to be reserved
for the welcoming of great men, and, of course, whenever the Batoka
present themselves before the chief, the performance is doubly vigorous.
When a gift is presented, it is etiquette for the donor to hold the
present in one hand, and to slap the thigh with the other, as he
approaches the person to whom he is about to give it. He then delivers
the gift, claps his hands together, sits down, and then strikes his
thighs with both hands. The same formalities are observed when a
return gift is presented; and so tenacious are they of this branch of
etiquette, that it is taught regularly to children by their parents.
They are an industrious people, cultivating wonderfully large tracts of
land with the simple but effective hoe of their country. With this hoe,
which looks something like a large adze, they not only break up the
ground, but perform other tasks of less importance, such as smoothing
the earth as a foundation for their beds. Some of these fields are so
large, that the traveller may walk for hours through the native corn,
and scarcely come upon an uncultivated spot. The quantity of corn which
is grown is very large, and the natives make such numbers of granaries,
that their villages seem to be far more populous than is really the
case. Plenty, in consequence, reigns among this people. But it is a
rather remarkable fact that, in spite of the vast quantities of grain,
which they produce, they cannot keep it in store.
The corn has too many enemies. In the first place, the neighboring
tribes are apt to send out marauding parties, who prefer stealing
the corn which their industrious neighbors have grown and stored to
cultivating the ground for themselves. Mice, too, are very injurious
to the corn. But against these two enemies the Batoka can tolerably
guard, by tying up quantities of corn in bundles of grass, plastering
them over with clay, and hiding them in the low sand islands left by
the subsiding waters of the Zambesi. But the worst of all enemies is
the native weevil, an insect so small that no precautions are available
against its ravages, and which, as we too often find in this country,
destroys an enormous amount of corn in a very short time. It is
impossible for the Batoka to preserve their corn more than a year, and
it is as much as they can do to make it last until the next crop is
ready.
[Illustration: (1.) BOATING SCENE ON THE BO-TLET-LE RIVER. (See page
340.)]
[Illustration: (2.) BATOKA SALUTATION. (See page 350.)]
As, therefore, the whole of the annual crop must be consumed by
themselves or the weevil, they prefer the former, and what they cannot
eat they make into beer, which they brew in large quantities, and drink
abundantly; yet they seldom, if ever, intoxicate themselves, in spite
of the quantities which they consume. This beer is called by them
either “boala” or “pombe,” just as we speak of beer or ale; and it
is sweet in flavor, with just enough acidity to render it agreeable.
Even Europeans soon come to like it, and its effect on the natives
is to make them plump and well nourished. The Batoka do not content
themselves with simply growing corn and vegetables, but even plant
fruit and oil-bearing trees--a practice which is not found among the
other tribes.
Possibly on account of the plenty with which their land is blessed,
they are a most hospitable race of men, always glad to see guests,
and receiving them in the kindest manner. If a traveller passes
through a village, he is continually hailed from the various huts with
invitations to eat and drink, while the men welcome the visitor by
clapping their hands, and the women by “lullilooing.” They even feel
pained if the stranger passes the village without being entertained.
When he halts in a village for the night, the inhabitants turn out to
make him comfortable; some running to fetch firewood, others bringing
jars of water, while some engage themselves in preparing the bed, and
erecting a fence to keep off the wind.
They are skilful and fearless hunters, and are not afraid even of the
elephant or buffalo, going up closely to these formidable animals,
and killing them with large spears. A complete system of game-laws is
in operation among the Batoka, not for the purpose of prohibiting the
chase of certain game, but in order to settle the disposal of the game
when killed. Among them, the man who inflicts the first wound on an
animal has the right to the spoil, no matter how trifling may be the
wound which he inflicts. In case he does not kill the animal himself,
he is bound to give to the hunter who inflicts the fatal wound both
legs of one side.
As to the laws which regulate ordinary life, there is but little that
calls for special notice, except a sort of ordeal for which they have
a great veneration. This is called the ordeal of the Muave, and is
analogous to the corsned and similar ordeals of the early ages of
England. The dread of witchcraft is very strong here, as in other
parts of Southern Africa; but among the Batoka the accused has the
opportunity of clearing himself by drinking a poisonous preparation
called muave. Sometimes the accused dies from the draught, and in
that case his guilt is clear; but in others the poison acts as an
emetic, which is supposed to prove his innocence, the poison finding no
congenial evil in the body, and therefore being rejected.
No one seems to be free from such an accusation, as is clear from Dr.
Livingstone’s account: “Near the confluence of the Kapoe the Mambo,
or chief, with some of his headmen, came to our sleeping-place with a
present. Their foreheads were smeared with white flour, and an unusual
seriousness marked their demeanor. Shortly before our arrival they had
been accused of witchcraft: conscious of innocence, they accepted the
ordeal, and undertook to drink the poisoned muave. For this purpose
they made a journey to the sacred hill of Nehomokela, on which repose
the bodies of their ancestors, and, after a solemn appeal to the unseen
spirit to attest the innocence of their children, they swallowed the
muave, vomited, and were therefore declared not guilty.
“It is evident that they believe that the soul has a continued
existence, and that the spirits of the departed know what those they
have left behind are doing, and are pleased or not, according as their
deeds are good or evil. This belief is universal. The owner of a large
canoe refused to sell it because it belonged to the spirit of his
father, who helped him when he killed the hippopotamus. Another, when
the bargain for his canoe was nearly completed, seeing a large serpent
on a branch of a tree overhead, refused to complete the sale, alleging
that this was the spirit of his father, come to protest against it.
Some of the Batoka believe that a medicine could be prepared which
would cure the bite of the tsetse, that small but terrible fly which
makes such destruction among the cattle, but has no hurtful influence
on mankind. This medicine was discovered by a chief, whose son Moyara
showed it to Dr. Livingstone. It consisted chiefly of a plant, which
was apparently new to botanical science. The root was peeled, and the
peel sliced and reduced to powder, together with a dozen or two of the
tsetse themselves. The remainder of the plant is also dried. When an
animal shows symptoms of being bitten by the tsetse, some of the powder
is administered to the animal, and the rest of the dried plant is
burned under it so as to fumigate it thoroughly. Moyara did not assert
that the remedy was infallible, but only stated that if a herd of
cattle were to stray into a district infested with the tsetse, some of
them would be saved by the use of the medicine, whereas they would all
die without it.
The Batoka are fond of using a musical instrument that prevails, with
some modifications, over a considerable portion of Central Africa. In
its simplest form it consists of a board, on which are fixed a number
of flat wooden strips, which, when pressed down and suddenly released,
produce a kind of musical tone. In fact, the principle of the sansa is
exactly that of our musical-boxes, the only difference being that the
teeth, or keys, of our instrument are steel, and that they are sounded
by little pegs, and not by the fingers. Even among this one tribe there
are great differences in the formation of the sansa.
The best and most elaborate form is that in which the sounding-board of
the sansa is hollow, in order to increase the resonance; and the keys
are made of iron instead of wood, so that a really musical sound is
produced. Moreover, the instrument is enclosed in a hollow calabash,
for the purpose of intensifying the sound; and both the sansa and
the calabash are furnished with bits of steel and tin, which make a
jingling accompaniment to the music. The calabash is generally covered
with carvings. When the sansa is used, it is held with the hollow or
ornamented end toward the player, and the keys are struck with the
thumbs, the rest of the hand being occupied in holding the instrument.
This curious instrument is used in accompanying songs. Dr. Livingstone
mentions that a genuine native poet attached himself to the party, and
composed a poem in honor of the white men, singing it whenever they
halted, and accompanying himself on the sansa. At first, as he did
not know much about his subject, he modestly curtailed his poem, but
extended it day by day, until at last it became quite a long ode. There
was an evident rhythm in it, each line consisting of five syllables.
Another native poet was in the habit of solacing himself every evening
with an extempore song, in which he enumerated everything that the
white men had done. He was not so accomplished a poet as his brother
improvisatore, and occasionally found words to fail him. However, his
sansa helped him when he was at a loss for a word, just as the piano
helps out an unskilful singer when at a loss for a note.
They have several musical instruments besides the sansa. One is called
the marimba, and is in fact a simple sort of harmonicon, the place of
the glass or metal keys being supplied by strips of hard wood fixed
on a frame. These strips are large at one end of the instrument,
and diminish regularly toward the other. Under each of the wooden
keys is fixed a hollow gourd, or calabash, the object of which is to
increase the resonance. Two sticks of hard wood are used for striking
the keys, and a skilful performer really handles them with wonderful
agility. Simple as is this instrument, pleasing sounds can be produced
from it. It has even been introduced into England, under the name of
“xylophone,” and, when played by a dexterous and energetic performer,
really produces effects that could hardly have been expected from it.
The sounds are, of course, deficient in musical tone; but still the
various notes can be obtained with tolerable accuracy by trimming
the wooden keys to the proper dimensions. A similar instrument is
made with strips of stone, the sounds of which are superior to those
produced by the wooden bars.
The Batoka are remarkable for their clannish feeling; and, when a
large party are travelling in company, those of one tribe always keep
together, and assist each other in every difficulty. Also, if they
should happen to come upon a village or dwelling belonging to one of
their own tribe, they are sure of a welcome and plentiful hospitality.
The Batoka appear from all accounts to be rather a contentious people,
quarrelsome at home, and sometimes extending their strife to other
villages. In domestic fights--_i. e._ in combats between inhabitants
of the same village--the antagonists are careful not to inflict fatal
injuries. But when village fights against village, as is sometimes the
case, the loss on both sides may be considerable. The result of such
a battle would be exceedingly disagreeable, as the two villages would
always be in a state of deadly feud, and an inhabitant of one would not
dare to go near the other. The Batoka, however, have invented a plan by
which the feud is stopped. When the victors have driven their opponents
off the field, they take the body of one of the dead warriors, quarter
it, and perform a series of ceremonies over it. This appears to be a
kind of challenge that they are masters of the field. The conquered
party acknowledge their defeat by sending a deputation to ask for the
body of their comrade, and, when they receive it, they go through the
same ceremonies; after which peace is supposed to be restored, and the
inhabitants of the villages may visit each other in safety.
Dr. Livingstone’s informant further said, that when a warrior had slain
an enemy, he took the head, and placed it on an ant-hill, until all
the flesh was taken from the bones. He then removed the lower jaw,
and wore it as a trophy. He did not see one of these trophies worn,
and evidently thinks that the above account may be inaccurate in some
places, as it was given through an interpreter; and it is very possible
that both the interpreter and the Batoka may have invented a tale for
the occasion. The account of the pacificatory ceremonies really seems
to be too consistent with itself to be falsehood; but the wearing of
the enemy’s jaw, uncorroborated by a single example, seems to be rather
doubtful. Indeed, Dr. Livingstone expressly warns the reader against
receiving with implicit belief accounts that are given by a native
African. The dark interlocutor amiably desires to please, and, having
no conception of truth as a principle, says exactly what he thinks will
be most acceptable to the great white chief, on whom he looks as a sort
of erratic supernatural being. Ask a native whether the mountains in
his own district are lofty, or whether gold is found there, and he
will assuredly answer in the affirmative. So he will if he be asked
whether unicorns live in his country, or whether he knows of a race
of tailed men, being only anxious to please, and not thinking that
the truth or falsehood of the answer can be of the least consequence.
If the white sportsman shoots at an animal and makes a palpable miss,
his dusky attendants are sure to say that the bullet went through the
animal’s heart, and that it only bounded away for a short distance.
“He is our father,” say the natives, “and he would be displeased if we
told him that he had missed.” It is even worse with the slaves, who are
often used as interpreters; and it is hardly possible to induce them to
interpret with any modicum of truth.
THE MANGANJA TRIBE.
On the river Shire (pronounced Sheereh), a northern tributary of the
Zambesi, there is a rather curious tribe called the Manganja. The
country which they inhabit is well and fully watered, abounding in
clear and cool streams, which do not dry up even in the dry season.
Pasturage is consequently abundant, and yet the people do not trouble
themselves about cattle, allowing to lie unused tracts of land which
would feed vast herds of oxen, not to mention sheep and goats.
Their mode of government is rather curious, and yet simple. The country
is divided into a number of districts, the head of which goes by the
title of Rundo. A great number of villages are under the command of
each Rundo, though each of the divisions is independent of the others,
and they do not acknowledge one common chief or king. The chieftainship
is not restricted to the male sex, as in one of the districts a woman
named Nyango was the Rundo, and exercised her authority judiciously, by
improving the social status of the women throughout her dominions. An
annual tribute is paid to the Rundo by each village, mostly consisting
of one tusk of each elephant killed, and he in return is bound to
assist and protect them should they be threatened or attacked.
The Manganjas are an industrious race, being good workers in metal,
especially iron, growing cotton, making baskets, and cultivating the
ground, in which occupation both sexes equally share; and it is a
pleasant thing to see men, women, and children all at work together in
the fields, with perhaps the baby lying asleep in the shadow of a bush.
They clear the forest ground exactly as is done in America, cutting
down the trees with their axes, piling up the branches and trunks in
heaps, burning them, and scattering the ashes over the ground by way
of manure. The stumps are left to rot in the ground, and the corn is
sown among them. Grass land is cleared in a different manner. The grass
in that country is enormously thick and long. The cultivator gathers
a bundle into his hands, twists the ends together, and ties them in a
knot. He then cuts the roots with his adze-like hoe, so as to leave the
bunch of grass still standing, like a sheaf of wheat. When a field has
been entirely cut, it looks to a stranger as if it were in harvest,
the bundles of grass standing at intervals like the grain shocks. Just
before the rainy season comes on, the bundles are fired, the ashes are
roughly dug into the soil, and an abundant harvest is the result.
The cotton is prepared after a very simple and slow fashion, the fibre
being picked by hand, drawn out into a “roving,” partially twisted,
and then rolled up into a ball. It is the opinion of those who have
had practical experience of this cotton, that, if the natives could be
induced to plant and dress it in large quantities, an enormous market
might be found for it. The “staple,” or fibre, of this cotton is not so
long as that which comes from America, and has a harsh, woolly feeling
in the hand. But, as it is very strong, and the fabrics made from it
are very durable, the natives prefer it to the foreign plant. Almost
every Manganja family of importance has its own little cotton patch,
from half an acre to an acre in size, which is kept carefully tended,
and free from weeds. The loom in which they weave their simple cloth is
very rude, and is one of the primitive forms of a weaver’s apparatus.
It is placed horizontally, and not vertically, and the weaver has to
squat on the ground when engaged in his work. The shuttle is a mere
stick, with the thread wound spirally round it, and, when it is passed
between the crossed threads of the warp, the warp is beaten into its
place with a flat stick.
They are a hospitable people, and have a well-understood code of
ceremony in the reception of strangers. In each village there is a
spot called the Boala, _i. e._ a space of about thirty or forty yards
diameter, which is sheltered by baobab, or other spreading trees,
and which is always kept neat and clean. This is chiefly used as a
place where the basket makers and others who are engaged in sedentary
occupations can work in company, and also serves as a meeting-place in
evenings, where they sing, dance, smoke, and drink beer after the toils
of the day.
As soon as a stranger enters a village, he is conducted to the Boala,
where he takes his seat on the mats that are spread for him, and awaits
the coming of the chief man of the village. As soon as he makes his
appearance, his people welcome him by clapping their hands in unison,
and continue this salutation until he has taken his seat, accompanied
by his councillors. “Our guides,” writes Livingstone, “then sit down in
front of the chief and his councillors, and both parties lean forward,
looking earnestly at each other. The chief repeats a word, such as
‘Ambuiata’ (our father, or master), or ‘Moio’ (life), and all clap
their hands. Another word is followed by two claps, a third by still
more clapping, when each touches the ground with both hands placed
together. Then all rise, and lean forward with measured clap, and sit
down again with clap, clap, clap, fainter and still fainter, until the
last dies away, or is brought to an end, by a smart loud clap from the
chief. They keep perfect time in this species of court etiquette.”
This curious salutation is valued very highly, and the people are
carefully instructed in it from childhood. The chief guide of the
stranger party then addresses the chief, and tells him about his
visitors,--who they are, why they have come, &c.; and mostly does so in
a kind of blank verse--the power of improvising a poetical narrative
being valued as highly as the court salutations, and sedulously
cultivated by all of any pretensions to station. It is rather amusing
at first to the traveller to find that, if he should happen to inquire
his way at a hut, his own guide addresses the owner of the hut in blank
verse, and is answered in the same fashion.
The dress of this tribe is rather peculiar, the head being the chief
part of the person which is decorated. Some of the men save themselves
the trouble of dressing their hair by shaving it off entirely, but
a greater number take a pride in decorating it in various ways. The
headdress which seems to be most admired is that in which the hair is
trained to resemble the horns of the buffalo. This is done by taking
two pieces of hide while they are wet and pliable, and bending them
into the required shape. When the two horns are dry and hard, they are
fastened on the head, and the hair is trained over them, and fixed in
its place by grease and clay. Sometimes only one horn is used, which
projects immediately over the forehead; but the double horn is the form
which is most in vogue.
Others divide their hair into numerous tufts, and separate them by
winding round each tuft a thin bandage, made of the inner bark of a
tree, so that they radiate from the head in all directions, and produce
an effect which is much valued by this simple race. Some draw the hair
together toward the back of the head, and train it so as to hang down
their backs in a shape closely resembling the pigtail which was so
fashionable an ornament of the British sailor in Nelson’s time. Others,
again, allow the hair to grow much as nature formed it, but train it to
grow in heavy masses all round their heads.
The women are equally fastidious with the men, but have in addition a
most singular ornament called the “pelele.” This is a ring that is not
fixed into the ear or nose, but into the upper lip, and gives to the
wearer an appearance that is most repulsive to an European. The artist
has illustrated its form and effect, in an engraving on page 357. The
pelele is a ring made of ivory, metal, or bamboo, nearly an inch in
thickness, and variable in diameter, sometimes measuring two inches
across. When the girl is very young, the upper lip is pierced close to
the nose, and a small pin inserted to prevent the orifice from closing.
When the wound is healed, the small pin is withdrawn, and a larger one
introduced; and this plan is carried on for years, until at last the
full-sized “pelele” can be worn.
The commonest sort of pelele is made of bamboo, and is in consequence
very light. When a wearer of this pelele smiles, or rather tries to
smile, the contraction of the muscles turns the ring upward, so that
its upper edge comes in front of the eyes, the nose appearing through
its middle. The whole front teeth are exposed by this motion, so as to
exhibit the fashionable way in which the teeth have been chipped, and,
as Livingstone says, they resemble the fangs of a cat or a crocodile.
One old lady, named Chikanda Kadze, had a pelele so wide and heavy
that it hung below her chin. But then she was a chief, and could
consequently afford to possess so valuable an ornament.
The use of the pelele quite alters the natural shape of the jaws. In
the natural state the teeth of the upper jaw are set in an outward
curve, but in a wearer of the pelele the constant, though slight,
pressure of the ring first diminishes the curve, then flattens it, and,
lastly, reverses it. Livingstone suggests that a similar application
of gradual pressure should be applied to persons whose teeth project
forward, not knowing that such a plan has long been practised by
dentists.
How this frightful ornament came to be first introduced is unknown. The
reasons which they give for wearing it are rather amusing. A man, say
they, has whiskers and a beard, whereas a woman has none. “What kind of
a creature would a woman be, without whiskers and without the pelele?
She would have a mouth like a man, and no beard!” As a natural result
of wearing this instrument, the language has undergone a modification
as well as the lips. The labial letters cannot be pronounced properly,
the under lip having the whole duty thrown upon them.
[Illustration: (1.) PELELE OR LIP-RING. (See page 356.)]
[Illustration: (2.) BATOKA MEN. (See page 348.)]
In different parts of the country the pelele takes different shapes.
The most valued pelele is a piece of pure tin hammered into a dish-like
shape. Some are made of a red kind of pipeclay, and others of a white
quartz. These latter ornaments are generally cylindrical in form, so
that, as has been well observed, the wearer looks as if she had an inch
or so of wax-candle thrust through the lips, and projecting beyond the
nose. Some of them are so determined to be fashionable that they do not
content themselves with a pelele in the upper lip, but also wear one in
the lower, the effect upon the expression of countenance being better
imagined than described. The pelele is seen to the greatest advantage
in the lake district, where every woman wears it, and where it takes
the greatest variety of form. Along the river it is not so universally
worn, and the form is almost always that of the ring or dish.
In this part of the country the sub-tribes are distinguished by certain
marks wherewith they tattoo themselves, and thereby succeed in still
farther disfiguring countenances which, if allowed to remain untouched,
would be agreeable enough. Some of them have a fashion of pricking
holes all over their faces, and treating the wounds in such a way that,
when they heal, the skin is raised in little knobs, and the face looks
as if it were covered with warts. Add to this fashion the pelele, and
the reader may form an opinion of the beauty of a fashionable woman. If
the object of fashion be to conceal age, this must be a most successful
fashion, as it entirely destroys the lines of the countenance, and
hardens and distorts the features to such an extent, that it is
difficult to judge by the face whether the owner be sixteen or sixty.
One of the women had her body most curiously adorned by tattooing,
and, indeed, was a remarkable specimen of Manganja fashion. She had
shaved all her head, and supplied the want of hair by a feather tuft
over her forehead, tied on by a band. From a point on the top of her
forehead ran lines radiating over the cheeks as far as the ear, looking
something like the marks on a New Zealander’s face. This radiating
principle was carried out all over her body. A similar point was marked
on each shoulder blade, from which the lines radiated down the back and
over the shoulders, and on the lower part of the spine and on each arm
were other patterns of a similar nature. She of course wore the pelele;
but she seemed ashamed of it, probably because she was a travelled
woman, and had seen white men before. So when she was about to speak to
them, she retired to her hut, removed the pelele, and, while speaking,
held her hand before her mouth, so as to conceal the ugly aperture in
her lip.
Cleanliness seems to be unsuitable to the Manganja constitution.
They could not in the least understand why travellers should wash
themselves, and seemed to be personally ignorant of the process. One
very old man, however, said that he did remember once to have washed
himself; but that it was so long ago that he had quite forgotten
how he felt. A very amusing use was once made of this antipathy to
cold water. One of the Manganjas took a fancy to attach himself to
the expedition, and nothing could drive him away. He insisted on
accompanying them, and annoyed them greatly by proclaiming in every
village to which they came, “These people have wandered; they do not
know where they are going.” He was driven off repeatedly: but, as
soon as the march was resumed, there he was, with his little bag over
his shoulder, ready to proclaim the wandering propensities of the
strangers, as usual. At last a happy idea struck them. They threatened
to take him down to the river and wash him; whereupon he made off in a
fright, and never made his appearance again.
Perhaps in consequence of this uncleanliness, skin diseases are rife
among the Manganjas, and appear to be equally contagious and durable;
many persons having white blotches over their bodies, and many others
being afflicted with a sort of leprosy, which, however, does not seem
to trouble them particularly. Even the fowls are liable to a similar
disease, and have their feet deformed by a thickening of the skin.
Sobriety seems as rare with the Manganjas as cleanliness; for they are
notable topers, and actually contrive to intoxicate themselves on their
native beer, a liquid of so exceedingly mild a character that nothing
but strong determination and a capability of consuming vast quantities
of liquid would produce the desired effect. The beer is totally unlike
the English drink. In the first place, it is quite thick and opaque,
and looks much like gruel of a pinkish hue. It is made by pounding the
vegetating grain, mixing it with water, boiling it, and allowing it to
ferment. When it is about two days old, it is pleasant enough, having
a slightly sweetish-acid flavor, which has the property of immediately
quenching thirst, and is therefore most valuable to the traveller, for
whose refreshment the hospitable people generally produce it.
As to themselves, there is some excuse for their intemperate habits.
They do not possess hops, or any other substance that will preserve
the beer, and in consequence they are obliged to consume the whole
brewing within a day or two. When, therefore, a chief has a great
brew of beer, the people assemble, and by day and night they continue
drinking, drumming, dancing, and feasting, until the whole of the
beer is gone. Yet, probably on account of the nourishing qualities of
the beer--which is, in fact, little more than very thin porridge--the
excessive drinking does not seem to have any injurious effect on the
people, many being seen who were evidently very old, and yet who had
been accustomed to drink beer in the usual quantities. The women seem
to appreciate the beer as well as the men, though they do not appear to
be so liable to intoxication. Perhaps the reason for this comparative
temperance is, that their husbands do not give them enough of it. In
their dispositions they seem to be lively and agreeable, and have a
peculiarly merry laugh, which seems to proceed from the heart, and is
not in the least like the senseless laugh of the Western negro.
In this part of the country, not only among the Manganjas, but in other
tribes, the custom of changing names is prevalent, and sometimes leads
to odd results. One day a headman named Sininyane was called as usual,
but made no answer; nor did a third and fourth call produce any result.
At last one of his men replied that he was no longer Sininyane, but
Moshoshama, and to that name he at once responded. It then turned out
that he had exchanged names with a Zulu. The object of the exchange
is, that the two persons are thenceforth bound to consider each other
as comrades, and to give assistance in every way. If, for example,
Sininyane had happened to travel into the country where Moshoshama
lived, the latter was bound to receive him into his house, and treat
him like a brother.
They seem to be an intelligent race, and to appreciate the notion of
a Creator, and of the immortality of the soul; but, like most African
races, they cannot believe that the white and the black races have
anything in common, or that the religion of the former can suit the
latter. They are very ready to admit that Christianity is an admirable
religion for white men, but will by no means be persuaded that it would
be equally good for themselves.
They have a hazy sort of idea of _their_ Creator, the invisible
head-chief of the spirits, and ground their belief in the immortality
of the soul on the fact that their departed relatives come and speak
to them in their dreams. They have the same idea of the muave poison
that has already been mentioned; and so strong is their belief in its
efficacy that, in a dispute, one man will challenge the other to drink
muave; and even the chiefs themselves will often offer to test its
discriminating powers.
When a Manganja dies, a great wailing is kept up in his house for two
days; his tools and weapons are broken, together with the cooking
vessels. All food in the house is taken out and destroyed; and even the
beer is poured on the earth.
The burial grounds seem to be carefully cherished--as carefully,
indeed, as many of the churchyards in England. The graves are all
arranged north and south, and the sexes of the dead are marked by the
implements laid on the grave. These implements are always broken;
partly, perhaps, to signify that they can be used no more, and partly
to save them from being stolen. Thus a broken mortar and pestle for
pounding corn, together with the fragments of a sieve, tell that there
lies below a woman who once had used them; whilst a piece of a net
and a shattered paddle are emblems of the fisherman’s trade, and tell
that a fisherman is interred below. Broken calabashes, gourds, and
other vessels, are laid on almost every grave; and in some instances a
banana is planted at the head. The relatives wear a kind of mourning,
consisting of narrow strips of palm leaf wound round their heads,
necks, arms, legs, and breasts, and allowed to remain there until they
drop off by decay.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE BANYAI AND BADEMA TRIBES.
GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE BANYAI TRIBE -- GOVERNMENT AND LAW OF
SUCCESSION -- DISCIPLINE OF YOUTH -- MARRIAGE CUSTOMS -- HUNTING --
THE HIPPOPOTAMUS-TRAP -- MANGROVE SWAMP -- RAPACITY OF THE BANYAI
CHIEF -- BANYAI AXES, AND MODE OF MAKING THEM -- ELEPHANT HUNTING
-- BOLDNESS OF THE MEN -- SUPERSTITIONS OF THE BANYAI -- IDEA ABOUT
THE HYÆNA -- THE “TABOO” -- CURIOUS BEEHIVES -- THE BADEMA TRIBE --
FISHING AND HUNTING WITH NETS -- CONCEALMENT OF PROPERTY.
On the south bank of the Zambesi, somewhere about lat. 16° S. and long.
30° E., there is a tribe called the Banyai, who inhabit a tract of
country called Shidima. The Banyai are a remarkably fine race of men,
being tall, well made, and agile, and are moreover very fair, being
of that _café au lait_ color which is so fashionable in many parts of
Africa. As some of their customs are unlike those of other tribes, a
short mention will be made of them.
Their appearance is rather pleasing, and they have a curious fashion of
dressing their hair, which much resembles that which was in use among
the ancient Egyptians. The fashionable Banyai youth first divides his
hair into small tufts, and draws them out as far as he can, encircling
each tuft with a spiral bandage of vegetable tissue. The various tufts
are then dyed red, and as they are sometimes a foot in length, and hang
upon the shoulders, they present a very remarkable aspect. When the
Banyai travel, they are fearful of damaging their elaborate headdress,
and so they gather it up in a bundle, and tie it on the top of the head.
Their government is equally simple and sensible. They choose their
own chief, although they always keep to the same family. When a chief
dies, his people consult together as to his successor. His immediate
descendants are never selected, and, if possible, one of his brothers,
or a nephew, is chosen. If they cannot find a qualified person at home,
they go further afield, and look out for those relatives who have
mingled with other tribes, thus bringing a new population into their
own tribe. Traders from other tribes are always very cautious about
visiting the Banyai during the interregnum, as the people think that
while there is no chief there is no law, and will in consequence rob
without compunction those whom they would never venture to touch as
long as the chief was living.
When the future chief is chosen, the electors go to him and tell him
of their choice. It is then thought manners for him to assume a _nolo
episcopari_ air, to modestly deprecate his own character, and to
remonstrate with the deputation for having elected a person so unworthy
to fill the place of his revered predecessor, who possessed all the
virtues and none of the weaknesses of humanity. In fact, the speech
of the Banyai king-elect would answer excellently for newly-elected
dignitaries of our own country, who make exactly the same kind of
oration, and would be equally offended were they to be taken at their
word.
Of course the new chief, after his deprecatory speech, assumes the
vacant office, together with all the property, including the wives and
children, of his predecessor, and takes very good care to keep the
latter in subservience. Sometimes one of the sons thinks that he ought
to be a man, and set up for a kind of chief himself, and accordingly
secedes from the paternal roof, gathers round him as many youths as he
can persuade to accompany him, and becomes a petty chief accordingly.
The principal chief, however, has no idea of allowing an _imperium in
imperio_ in his dominions, and, when the young chieftain has built his
village and fairly settled down, he sends a body of his own soldiery to
offer his congratulations. If the young chieftain receives them with
clapping of hands and humble obeisance, all is well, as the supreme
authority of the chief is thereby acknowledged. If not, they burn down
all the village, and so teach by very intelligible language that before
a youth dares to be a chieftain he had better perform the duties which
a vassal owes to his sovereign.
There is a system among the Banyai which has a singular resemblance to
the instruction of pages in the days of chivalry. When a man attains
to eminence, he gathers around him a band of young boys, who are
placed by their parents under his charge, and who are taught to become
accomplished gentlemen after Banyai ideas. While they are yet in the
condition of pagehood, they are kept under strict discipline, and
obliged to be humble and punctilious toward their superiors, whom they
recognize with the hand-clapping which is the salute common throughout
Central Africa. At meal-times they are not allowed to help themselves,
but are obliged to wait patiently until the food is divided for them by
one of the men. They are also instructed in the Banyai law; and when
they return to their parents, a case is submitted to them, and the
progress which they have made is ascertained by their answers. To their
teachers they are exceedingly useful. They are all sons of free men who
are tolerably well off, and who send servants to accompany their sons,
and to till the ground for their maintenance. They also send ivory to
the teacher, with which he purchases clothing for the young scholars.
This custom shows that a certain amount of culture has been attained
by the Banyai, and the social condition of their women is a still
stronger proof. In most parts of savage Africa the woman is little more
than a beast of burden, and has no more to do with the management of
affairs or with her husband’s counsels than the cows for which he has
bought her. In Banyai-land, however, the women have not only their full
share of power, but rather more than their share, the husbands never
venturing to undertake any business or to conduct any bargain without
the consent of their wives. The women even act as traders, visiting
other towns with merchandise, and acting fairly toward both the
purchaser and themselves.
Their marriages are conducted in a manner which shows that the wife
is quite the equal of her husband. In most parts of Southern Africa a
wife is bought for a stipulated number of cows, and, as soon as the
bargain is concluded, and the girl handed over to the purchaser, she
becomes his property, and is treated as such. But, among the Banyai,
the young bridegroom does not take his wife to his hut; he goes to the
house of her parents. Here he is quite the inferior, and is the special
servant of his mother-in-law, cutting wood for her use, and being very
respectful in demeanor. Should he not like this kind of life, and be
desirous of leaving it, he may do so whenever he likes; but he has to
relinquish wife and children, unless he can pay the parents of the wife
a sufficient sum to compensate them for their loss. Nevertheless, this
is the principle on which the custom of buying wives is founded: but
there are few places where the theory is reduced to practice.
Among the Banyai, as among many of the tribes along the river, the
flesh of the hippopotamus is much eaten, and the capture of the animal
is consequently a matter of importance. They do not care for boldly
chasing the hippopotamus, as do the tribes which have already been
mentioned, but they prefer to resort to the pitfall and the drop-trap.
The pitfalls are always dug in places where the animal is likely to
tread; and the pits are not only numerous, but generally placed in
pairs close to each other. On one occasion a white traveller happened
to fall into one of these pits, and after he had recovered from the
shock of finding himself suddenly deprived of the light of day and
enclosed in a deep hole, he set to work, and after many hours’ labor
managed to free himself from his unpleasant position. But no sooner had
he fairly got out of the pit than he unfortunately stepped upon its
companion, and fell into it just as he had fallen into the other.
The most ingenious mode of capturing the animal is by means of the
drop-trap. For this purpose the native cuts a rather long and heavy
log of wood, and, in order to make it still heavier, a couple of
large stones are tied to it near one end, or a quantity of clay is
kneaded round it. At the loaded end a hole is made, into which is set
a spear-head, sometimes that of a large assagai, but mostly a sort of
harpoon like that which has been described on page 341. A rope loop is
then fastened to the other end, and the weapon is ready. The hunter now
goes to a hippopotamus track, and looks out for a branch that overhangs
it. Generally he can find a branch that will suit his purpose; but if
not, he rigs up a sort of gallows on which he can suspend the armed
log. When he has found a convenient branch, he takes a long rope,
one end of which is fastened to a stick, places the stick across the
branch, and hangs the loop of the harpoon upon the other end. He next
passes the cord round a peg at the foot of the tree, about eighteen
inches or so from the ground, draws it across the path, and then makes
it fast.
[Illustration: (1.) HIPPOPOTAMUS TRAP. (See page 362.)]
[Illustration: (2.) AXES. (See page 366.)]
The engraving No. 1, opposite, will explain how the whole business is
managed. The tree on which the weapon is suspended is the mangrove,
a tree utterly unlike any of those which we have in this land. The
extraordinary vitality of this tree is well shown by the sketch, which
was made by Mr. Baines. The trunk has been broken off, but the upper
part has fallen against another tree and been supported by it. It has
then thrown out a number of roots, which have descended to the moist
ground, and give the tree a new support of its own. In such a case, the
branches that tend downward wither away and die, those that tend upward
increase rapidly, while those that project sideways take a turn, and
then curve themselves upward. Examples of these branches may be seen in
the sketch.
The mangrove is a self-sowing tree, and performs this act in a very
curious manner. The seeds are very long, and furnished at the end with
a hard, pointed tip. As soon as it is ripe, the seed falls, burying the
pointed tip several inches into the soft, swampy soil, which mangroves
love, and there remains. The object of this curious provision of Nature
is, that the seed shall not be washed away by the periodical floods
which inundate the country.
In such a soil there is no difficulty in finding the path of the
hippopotamus, for the heavy and clumsy animal leaves a track which
could be followed in the darkest night. Owing to the great width of its
body, the feet of the opposite sides are set rather wider apart than
is the case with lighter animals, so that when the hippopotamus walks
through grass it makes a distinct double path, with a ridge of grass
in the middle. When it walks on the soft muddy soil of the river bank,
the animal makes a most curious track, the feet sinking deeply into
the earth, and forming a sort of double rut studded with holes at the
distance of an inch or two from each other, a ridge some two inches in
width dividing the ruts.
There is no path so trying to a traveller as a hippopotamus track. In
that part of the country it is necessary to walk barefoot, or, at all
events, to use nothing more than the native sandals. If the traveller
tries to walk on the central ridge, he finds that the exertion of
keeping the balance is almost equivalent to walking on a tight-rope or
a Bornean “batang,” and that the pressure on the middle of the foot
soon becomes too painful to be borne. If he tries to walk in the ruts,
he is no better off, for his feet sink deeply into the holes punched by
the limbs of the hippopotamus, the toes are forcibly pressed upward,
and the leg is fixed so tightly in the hole that the traveller cannot
withdraw it until the earth has been removed.
Over one of these tracks the native hunter suspends his harpoon, taking
care that the blade shall hang exactly above the central ridge. As the
hippopotamus comes walking along he strikes his foot against the cord.
The blow releases the harpoon, which falls with tremendous violence,
burying the iron head deep into the animal’s back. Now and then the
head comes exactly on the spine, and in that case the animal falls
helpless on the spot. Usually, however, the wound is not immediately
fatal, and the hippopotamus rushes to the river, hoping thus to shake
off the cruel weapon which had tortured him on land. Sooner or later,
he is sure to die from the wound, and then the natives, who, like the
hippopotamus, never hurry themselves, drag the huge carcass to land,
and hold a mighty feast upon it.
In some parts of the country these fall-traps are set nearly as thickly
as the pits which have already been mentioned, and the result is, that
the animals have become exceedingly suspicious, and will not approach
anything that looks like a trap. They are so thoroughly afraid of being
injured, that the native agriculturists are in the habit of imitating
traps by suspending mangrove seeds, bits of sticks, and other objects,
to the branches of the trees, knowing that the wary animal will keep
very clear of so dangerous-looking a locality. The trap has to be
set with considerable skill, and much care must be taken to conceal
the rope which crosses the path, or the animal will not strike it.
Large and heavy, and apparently clumsy, as he is, he can look out
for himself, and, in places where traps are plentiful, he becomes so
suspicious that if even a twig lie across his path he will rather go
round it than tread it under foot.
The Banyai chiefs do not neglect the usual African custom of demanding
toll from every traveller who passes through their territories,
although they do not appear to be quite so rapacious as some, of whom
we shall presently treat. The Banyai enforce their tribute much as
the owner of a ferry compels payment for the passengers. Knowing that
their permission, and even assistance, is needed in passing through
the country, they set a very high price upon their services, and
will not allow the traveller to proceed until he has complied with
their demands. Feeling sure of their position, they are apt to be
violent as well as extortionate, flinging down the offered sum with
contemptuous gestures, and abusing their victims with a wonderful flow
of disparaging language.
Dr. Livingstone, knowing their customs, contrived to get the better
of the Banyai in a place where they were accustomed to carry things
with a high hand, even over the Portuguese traders. At night, when the
time came for repose, instead of going ashore, after the usual custom
of the native canoe men, he anchored in the middle of the stream, and
had couches made on board. This device completely disconcerted the
plans of the Banyai, who expected the travellers to come ashore, and,
of course, would have kept them prisoners until they had paid a heavy
toll for permission to embark again. They even shouted invitations from
the river bank to come and sleep on land, but dared not attack a boat
filled with armed men commanded by Europeans. The oddest part of the
whole proceeding was, that the Makololo and Batoka boatmen, who were
accompanying Dr. Livingstone, had never thought of so simple a device,
and roared exultant jeers from their boat to the Banyai on shore.
The country in which the Banyai live furnishes various kinds of food of
which an European would be ignorant, and therefore would run a great
risk of starving in a place where the Banyai would be revelling in
plenty. Ant-hills, for example, almost always furnish huge mushrooms,
which are at once palatable and nutritious; and there are several
kinds of subterranean tubers that are only to be found by striking the
ground with stones and listening to the sound. One of these tubers
is remarkable for the fact that in winter time it has a slight but
perceptible quantity of salt in it.
The Banyai, like other African tribes, have their peculiar
superstitions, such as pouring out the contents of their snuff box
as an offering to the spirits of the dead when they are engaged in
hunting, hoping thereby to propitiate them and procure their aid. One
man who had performed this act of devotion was quite scandalized at
the irreverence of hunters who belonged to other tribes, and who, as
he said, did not know how to pray. The same man took to himself the
credit of having destroyed an elephant which had been killed by others,
his prayers and snuff, and not the weapons of the hunters, having,
according to his idea, been the real instruments by which the animal
fell.
The particular animal, by the way, was killed in a manner peculiar to
some of the tribes in this part of Africa. These native hunters are
very Nimrods for skill and courage, going after the elephant into the
depths of his own forest, and boldly coping with him, though armed with
weapons which an European would despise.
The chief weapon which is used by these tribes is a kind of axe. It is
made much after the fashion of those used by the Bechuanas described on
page 290. The “tang,” however, which is fastened into the handle, is at
least three feet in length, and the handle is sometimes six or seven
feet long, so that the instrument looks more like a scythe than an axe.
The handle is made by cutting off a branch of convenient thickness, and
also a foot or two of the trunk at its junction. A hole is then bored
through the piece of the trunk, the tang of the head inserted into it,
and the rough wood then dressed into shape; thus the necessary weight
is gained without the expenditure of valuable metal.
The illustration No. 2 on page 363 will make this ingenious process
clear. Fig. 2 represents part of the trunk of a tree, marked A, from
which starts a convenient branch. Seeing that this branch will answer
for the handle of an axe, the native cuts across the trunk, and thus
has a very rude kind of mallet, possessed of considerable weight. A
hole is next bored through the part of the trunk, and the iron tang of
the axehead thrust through it. The superabundant wood is then trimmed
off, as shown in the cut, the branch is scraped and smoothed, and the
simple but effective axe is complete.
Figs. 4 and 5 represent a convertible axe which is much used by this
people. As in their work they sometimes need an adze, and sometimes an
axe, they have ingeniously made a tool which will serve either purpose.
The handle and butt are made exactly as has already been described,
but, instead of piercing a single hole for the iron head, the Banyai
cut two holes at right angles to each other, as seen in the diagram,
fig. 4. The iron, therefore, can be fixed in either of these sockets,
and, according to the mode in which it is inserted, the tool becomes
either an axe or an adze. At fig. 4 it is placed in the horizontal
socket, and accordingly the tool is an adze; but at fig. 5 it is
transformed into an axe, merely by shifting the iron head into the
perpendicular socket.
It is a curious fact that the Water Dyaks of Borneo have a very similar
tool, which they use in boat-building. It is much smaller than the
Banyai axe, being only used in one hand, and the head is fixed to the
handle by an elaborate binding of split rattan, which is so contrived
that the head can be turned at pleasure with its edge parallel to or
across the handle.
Fig. 3 represents a rather curious form of axe, which is sometimes
found among the Banyai and other tribes. The head is made very long,
and it is made so that, when the owner wishes to carry it from one
place to another, he does not trouble himself to hold it in his hand,
but merely hangs it over his shoulder.
The elephant axe is shown at fig. 1, but it is hardly long enough in
the handle. In one part of Central Africa the head is fastened to the
handle by means of a socket; but this form is exceedingly rare, and, in
such a climate as is afforded by tropical Africa, is far inferior to
that which has been described.
The hunters who use this curious weapon go in pairs, one having the
axe, which has been most carefully sharpened, and the other not
troubling himself about any weapon, except perhaps a spear or two. When
they have found an elephant with good tusks, they separate, and work
their way round a wide circuit, so as to come upon him from different
quarters, the axeman always approaching from behind, and the assistant
coming toward the front. As soon as they knew, by well-understood
signals, that they are near the animal, they begin their work. The
assistant begins to rustle among the branches at some distance in
front, not in such a manner as to alarm the elephant, but to keep his
attention fixed, and make him wonder what the singular movements can
mean. While he is engaged with the man in front, the axeman steals
gradually on him from behind, and with a sweep of his huge weapon
severs the tendon of the hock, which in the elephant is at a very short
distance from the ground. From that moment the animal is helpless,
its enormous weight requiring the full use of all its limbs; and the
hunters can, if they choose, leave it there and go after another, being
quite sure that they will find the lamed animal in the same place where
it was left. Even if the axe blow should not quite sever the tendon, it
is sure to cut so deeply that at the first step which the animal takes
the tendon gives way with a loud snap.
To return to the religious notions of the Banyai. The man who made
oblation of his snuff said that the elephant was specially directed by
the Great Spirit to come to the hunters, because they were hungry and
wanted food; a plain proof that they have some idea, however confused
and imperfect it may be, of a superintending and guiding Providence.
The other Banyai showed by their conduct that this feeling was common
to the tribe, and not peculiar to the individual; for when they brought
corn, poultry, and beads, as thank-offerings to the hunters who had
killed the elephant, they mentioned that they had already given thanks
to the Barimo, or gods, for the successful chase. The Banyai seem
to have odd ideas about animals; for when the hyænas set up their
hideous laugh, the men said that they were laughing because they knew
that the men could not eat all the elephant, and must leave some for
the hyænas. In some parts of the country the hyænas and lions are so
numerous, that when the inhabitants are benighted at a distance from
human habitations, they build little resting places in the branches of
trees, and lodge there for the night, leaving their little huts in the
branches as memorials of their visit.
Among the peculiar superstitions is one which is much in vogue. This
is a mode of protecting property from thieves, and consists of a strip
of palm leaf, smeared with some compound, and decorated with tufts of
grass, bits of wood, little roots, and the like. It is chiefly used
for the protection of honey, which is sometimes wild, the bees making
a nest for themselves in the hollow of a tree, and sometimes preserved
in hives, which are made of bark, and placed in the branches. The hives
are long and cylindrical, and laid on their sides. The protecting palm
leaf is tied round the tree, and the natives firmly believe that if a
thief were to climb over it, much more to remove it, he would be at
once afflicted with illness, and soon die. The reader will see here an
analogous superstition to the “tapu,” or taboo, of Polynesia.
The hives are made simply enough. Two incisions are made completely
round the tree, about five feet apart, and a longitudinal slit is then
cut from one incision to the other. The bark is carefully opened at
this slit, and by proper management it comes off the tree without being
broken, returning by its own elasticity to its original shape. The
edges of the slit are then sewed together, or fastened by a series of
little wooden pegs. The ends are next closed with grass ropes, coiled
up just like the targets which are used by modern archers; and, a hole
being made in one of the ends, the hive is complete. Large quantities
of honey and wax are thus collected and used for exportation; indeed
all the wax that comes from Londa is collected from these hives.
THE BADÉMA TRIBE.
There is still left a small fragment of one of the many African tribes
which are rapidly expiring. These people are called BADÉMA, and from
their ingenuity seem to deserve a better fate. They are careful
husbandmen, and cultivate small quantities of tobacco, maize, and
cotton in the hollows of the valleys, where sufficient moisture lingers
to support vegetation. They are clever sportsmen, and make great use of
the net, as well on the land as in the water. For fishing they have a
kind of casting net, and when they go out to catch zebras, antelopes,
and other animals, they do so by stretching nets across the narrow
outlets of ravines, and then driving the game into them. The nets are
made of baobab bark, and are very strong.
They have a singularly ingenious mode of preserving their corn. Like
many other failing tribes, they are much persecuted by their stronger
neighbors, who are apt to make raids upon them, and carry off all
their property, the chief part of which consists of corn. Consequently
they are obliged to conceal their stores in the hills, and only
keep a small portion in their huts, just sufficient for the day’s
consumption. But the mice and monkeys are quite as fond of corn as
their human enemies, and would soon destroy all their stores, had not
the men a plan by which they can be preserved. The Badéma have found
out a tree, the bark of which is hateful both to the mice and the
monkeys. Accordingly they strip off the bark, which is of a very bitter
character, roll it up into cylindrical vessels, and in these vessels
they keep their corn safely in caves and crevices among the rocks.
Of course, when their enemies come upon them, they always deny that
they have any food except that which is in their huts, and when
Dr. Livingstone came among them for the first time they made the
stereotyped denial, stating that they had been robbed only a few weeks
before.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE BALONDO OR BALONDA AND THE ANGOLESE.
GENERAL APPEARANCE -- MODE OF GOVERNMENT -- WOMAN’S DRESS -- MANENKO
AND HER STRANGE COSTUME -- FASHIONS IN HAIR-DRESSING -- COSTUME OF
THE MEN -- THEIR ORNAMENTS -- PECULIAR GAIT -- MODE OF SALUTATION --
CURIOSITY -- MILDNESS OF TEMPERAMENT -- AN ATTEMPT AT EXTORTION -- A
SCENE AT COURT -- BALONDA MUSIC -- MANENKO IN COMMAND -- KATEMA AND
HIS BEARER -- LOVE OF CATTLE -- FOOD OF THE BALONDA -- FISH-CATCHING
-- BALONDA ARCHITECTURE -- CEMENTING FRIENDSHIP -- RELIGION AND
IDOLS -- A WILD LEGEND -- FUNERAL CUSTOMS -- THE ANGOLESE -- THEIR
CHARACTER -- AGRICULTURE -- THE MANIOC, AND ITS USES -- MEDICINES
AND CUPPING -- SUPERSTITIONS -- MARRIAGES AND FUNERALS -- DR.
LIVINGSTONE’S SUMMARY.
We now come to a rather important tribe that lives very close to the
equator. This is called the Balondo or Balonda tribe, _i. e._ the
people who inhabit Londa-land, a very large district on the western
side of Africa. A great number of small tribes inhabit this country,
but, as they really are offshoots of the one tribe, we will treat of
them all under the common name of Balondo.
The chief ruler, or king, of the Balonda tribes is Matiamvo, a name
which is hereditary, like that of the Czar or Pharaoh. He has absolute
power of life and death, and one of them had a way of proving this
authority by occasionally running about the town and beheading every
one whom he met, until sometimes quite a heap of human heads was
collected. He said that his people were too numerous to be prosperous,
and so he took this simple method of diminishing their numbers. There
seems to be no doubt that he was insane, and his people thought so too;
but their reverence for his office was so great that he was allowed
to pursue his mad course without check, and at length died peaceably,
instead of being murdered, as might have been expected.
He was a great slave-dealer, and used to conduct the transaction in a
manner remarkable for its simplicity. When a slave-merchant came to
his town, he took all his visitor’s property, and kept him as a guest
for a week or ten days. After that time, having shown his hospitality,
he sent out a party of armed men against some populous village, killed
the headman, and gave the rest of the inhabitants to the slave merchant
in payment for his goods. Thus he enriched his treasury and thinned
his population by the same act. Indeed, he seemed always to look upon
villages as property which could be realized at any time, and had,
besides, the advantage of steadily increasing in value. If he heard of
or saw anything which he desired exceedingly, and the owner declined to
part with it, he would destroy a whole village, and offer the plunder
to the owner of the coveted property.
Still, under this régime, the people lead, as a general rule, tolerably
happy and contented lives. They are not subjected to the same despotism
as the tribes of the Southern districts, and, indeed, often refuse to
obey the orders of the chief. Once, when Katema sent to the Balobale,
a sub-tribe under his protection, and ordered them to furnish men to
carry Dr. Livingstone’s goods, they flatly refused to do so, in spite
of Katema’s threat that, if they did not obey, he would deprive them
of his countenance, and send them back to their former oppressors.
The fact is, each of the chiefs is anxious to collect round himself
as many people as possible, in order to swell his own importance, and
he does not like to do anything that might drive them away from him
into the ranks of some rival chief. Dr. Livingstone remarks, that this
disobedience is the more remarkable, as it occurs in a country where
the slave-trade is in full force, and where people may be kidnapped
and sold under any pretext that may happen to occur to the chief.
As is frequently the case with African tribes, there is considerable
variety of color among the Balondo, some being of a notably pale
chocolate hue, while others are so black as to rival the negro in
darkness of complexion. They appear to be a rather pleasing set of
men, tainted, as must be the case, with the ordinary vices of savage
life, but not morose, cruel, or treacherous, as is too often the
case. The women appear to be almost exceptionally lively, being full
of animal spirits, and spending all their leisure time, which seems
to be considerable, in chattering, weddings, funerals, and similar
amusements. Dr. Livingstone offers a suggestion that this flow of
spirits may be one reason why they are so indestructible a race, and
thinks that their total want of care is caused by the fatalism of their
religious theories, such as they are. Indeed, he draws rather a curious
conclusion from their happy and cheerful mode of life, considering
that it would be a difficulty in the way of a missionary, though why a
lively disposition and Christianity should be opposed to each other is
not easy to see.
One woman, named Manenko, afforded a curious example of mixed energy,
liveliness, and authority. She was a chief, and, though married,
retained the command in her own hands. When she first visited Dr.
Livingstone, she was a remarkably tall and fine woman of twenty or
thereabouts, and rather astonished her guest by appearing before
him in a bright coat of red ochre, and nothing else, except some
charms hung round her neck. This absence of clothing was entirely a
voluntary act on her part, as, being a chief, she might have had any
amount of clothing that she liked; but she evidently thought that her
dignity required her to outdo the generality of Balondo ladies in the
scantiness of apparel which distinguishes them.
In one part of Londa-land the women are almost wholly without clothes,
caring nothing for garments, except those of European manufacture,
which they wear with much pride. Even in this latter case the raiment
is not worn so much as a covering to the body as a kind of ornament
which shows the wealth of the wearer, for the women will purchase
calico and other stuffs at extravagant prices. They were willing to
give twenty pounds’ weight of meal and a fowl for a little strip of
calico barely two feet in length, and, having put it on, were quite
charmed with their new dress.
The fact is, they have never been accustomed to dress, and “are all
face,” the weather having no more effect on their bodies than it does
on our faces. Even the very babies are deprived of the warm fur-clad
wrapper in which the generality of African mothers carry them, and the
infant is as exposed to the weather as its mother. The Londa mother
carries her child in a very simple manner. She plaits a bark belt, some
four inches or so in width, and hangs it over one shoulder and under
the other, like the sash of a light infantry officer. The child is
partly seated on its mother’s hip, and partly supported by the belt,
which, as is evident, does not afford the least protection against the
weather. They even sleep in the same state of nudity, keeping up a fire
at night, which they say is their clothing. The women tried very hard
to move the compassionate feelings of their white visitors by holding
up their little naked babies, and begging for clothes; but it was
clear that the real destination of such clothes was for ornaments for
themselves.
As is the case with several other tribes which care little for clothes,
they decorate their heads with the greatest care, weaving their hair
into a variety of patterns, that must cost infinite trouble to make,
and scarcely less to preserve. They often employ the “buffalo-horn”
pattern, which has already been mentioned, sometimes working their
hair into two horns, and sometimes into one, which projects over the
forehead. Some of them divide the hair into a number of cords or
plaits, and allow them to hang all round the face. The most singular
method of dressing the hair is one which is positively startling at
first sight, on account of the curious resemblance which it bears
to the “nimbus” with which the heads of saints are conventionally
surrounded. The hair is dressed in plaits, as has already been
mentioned, but, instead of being allowed to hang down, each plait or
strand is drawn out in a radiating fashion, and the ends are fastened
to a hoop of light wood. When this is done, the hoop itself represents
the nimbus, and the strands of hair the radiating beams of light. (See
next page.)
The features of the Balondo women are pleasing enough, and in some
cases are even tolerably regular. The teeth are allowed to retain
their original form and whiteness; and it is a pity that so many good
countenances are disfigured by the custom of thrusting pieces of reed
through the septum of the nose.
The dress of the Balondo men is more worthy of the name than that
of the women, as it consists of a girdle round the waist, with a
softly-dressed skin of a jackal in front, and a similar skin behind.
Dr. Livingstone relates an anecdote concerning this dress, which shows
how arbitrary is the feeling of decency and its opposite. He had with
him a number of Makololo men, whose dress is similar to that of many
other tribes, and consists merely of a piece of soft hide fastened to
the girdle in front, brought under the legs, and tucked into the girdle
behind. Now this dress is much more worthy of the name than the double
skin of the Balonda. Yet the Balonda girls, themselves in a state of
almost complete nudity, were very much shocked when they found that
the Makololo men wore no back-apron. Whenever a Makololo man happened
to turn his back upon the women and girls, they laughed and jeered at
him to such an extent that he was made quite wretched by their scorn.
Had they been even moderately clad, such behavior might seem excusable,
but, when it is remembered that the dress of the despised visitor would
have furnished costumes to four or five of the women who were laughing
at him, we can but wonder at the singular hold which fashion takes of
the human mind.
[Illustration: (1.) THE MARIMBA OR AFRICAN PIANO. (See page 375.)]
[Illustration: (2.) HEADDRESSES. (See page 370.)]
The Balondo men are as fond of ornaments as their wives, and, as with
them, the decorations chiefly belong to the head and the feet. In some
places they have a fashion of dressing their hair into a conical form,
similar to that which has been already mentioned; while a man who is
fond of dress will generally show his foppery by twisting his beard
into three distinct plaits. Some of the Balondo men have a considerable
quantity of thick woolly hair, and dress it in a singular fashion. They
begin by parting it down the middle, and then forming the hair of each
side into two thick rolls, which pass between the ears and fall down
as far as the shoulders. The rest of the hair is gathered up into a
bundle, and hangs on the back of the neck.
Whenever they can afford it, the Balondo men will carry one of the
large knives which are so prevalent in this part of the continent.
Throughout the whole of Western Africa there is one type of knife,
which undergoes various modifications according to the particular
district in which it is made, and this type is as characteristic of
Western Africa as the Bechuana knife is of the southern parts. Their
curious form is almost identical with that of weapons taken from tumuli
in Europe. The sheath is always very wide, and is made with great care,
being mostly ornamental as well as useful.
Heavy rings of copper and other metals are as much in vogue as among
the Damaras; only the men prefer to wear them on their own limbs,
instead of handing them over to their wives. As wealth is mostly
carried on the person in this country, a rich Balondo man will have six
or seven great copper rings encircling his ankles, each ring weighing
two pounds or so. The gait of a rich man is therefore singularly
ungraceful, the feet being planted widely apart, so that the massive
rings should not come in contact. The peculiar gait which is caused by
the presence of the treasured rings is much admired among the Balondo,
and is studiously imitated by those who have no need to use it. A young
man, for example, who is only worth half a dozen rings weighing half
an ounce or so each, will strut about with his feet wide apart, as if
he could hardly walk for the weight of his anklets.
The ornament which is most prized is made from a large species of shell
belonging to the genus Conus. The greater part of the shell is chipped
away, and only the flat and spiral base is left. This is pierced in the
middle, and a string is passed through the middle, so that it can be
hung round the neck. Dr. Livingstone tells an anecdote which shows the
estimation in which this ornament is held. Just before his departure
the king, Shinte, came into his tent, and passed a considerable time in
examining his books, watch, and other curiosities. At last he carefully
closed the door of the tent, so that none of his people might see the
extravagance of which he was about to be guilty, and drew one of these
shells from his clothing, hung it round his host’s neck, with the
words, “There, now you _have_ a proof of my friendship.” These shells
are used, like stars and crosses in England, as emblems of rank; and
they have besides a heavy intrinsic value, costing the king at the rate
of a slave for two, or a large elephant’s tusk for five.
The very fact that they possess insignia of rank shows that they must
possess some degree of civilization; and this is also shown by the
manner in which inferiors are bound to salute those above them. If a
man of low rank should meet a superior, the former immediately drops
on his knees, picks up a little dirt, rubs it on his arms and chest,
and then claps his hands until the great man has passed. So punctilious
are they in their manner, that when Sambanza, the husband of Manenko,
was making a speech to the people of a village, he interspersed
his discourse with frequent salutations, although he was a man of
consequence himself, being the husband of the chief.
There are many gradations in the mode of saluting. Great chiefs go
through the movements of rubbing the sand, but they only make a
pretence of picking up sand. If a man desires to be very polite indeed,
he carries with him some white ashes or powdered pipe-clay in a piece
of skin, and, after kneeling in the usual manner, rubs it on his chest
and arms, the white powder being an ocular proof that the salutation
has been properly conducted. He then claps his hands, stoops forward,
lays first one cheek and then the other on the ground, and continues
his clapping for some little time. Sometimes, instead of clapping his
hands, he drums with his elbows against his ribs.
On the whole, those travellers who have passed through Londa seem to be
pleased with the character of the inhabitants. Dr. Livingstone appears
to have had but little trouble with them, except when resisting the
extortionate demands which they, like other tribes, were apt to make
for leave of passage through their country. He writes:--
“One could detect, in passing, the variety of character found among
the owners of gardens and villages. Some villages were the picture of
neatness. We entered others enveloped in a wilderness of weeds, so high
that, when sitting on an ox-back in the middle of the village, we could
only see the tops of the huts. If we entered at mid-day, the owners
would come lazily forth, pipe in hand, and leisurely puff away in
dreamy indifference. In some villages weeds were not allowed to grow;
cotton, tobacco, and different plants used as relishes, are planted
round the huts; fowls are kept in cages; and the gardens present the
pleasant spectacle of different kinds of grain and pulse at various
periods of their growth. I sometimes admired the one class, and at
times wished I could have taken the world easy, like the other.
“Every village swarms with children, who turn out to see the white man
pass, and run along with strange cries and antics; some run up trees
to get a good view--all are agile climbers through Londa. At friendly
villages they have scampered alongside our party for miles at a time.
We usually made a little hedge round our sheds; crowds of women came to
the entrance of it, with children on their backs, and pipes in their
mouths, gazing at us for hours. The men, rather than disturb them,
crawled through a hole in the hedge; and it was common to hear a man in
running off say to them, “I am going to tell my mamma to come and see
the white man’s oxen.”
According to the same authority, the Balonda do not appear to be a very
quarrelsome race, generally restricting themselves to the tongue as a
weapon, and seldom resorting to anything more actively offensive. The
only occasion on which he saw a real quarrel take place was rather a
curious one. An old woman had been steadily abusing a young man for an
hour or two, with that singular fluency of invective with which those
women seem to be gifted. He endured it patiently for some time, but
at last uttered an exclamation of anger. On which another man sprang
forward, and angrily demanded why the other had cursed his mother. They
immediately closed with each other, and a scuffle commenced, in the
course of which they contrived to tear off the whole of each other’s
clothing. The man who began the assault then picked up his clothes and
ran away, threatening to bring his gun, but he did not return, and
the old woman proceeded with her abuse of the remaining combatant. In
their quarrels the Balonda make plenty of noise, but after a while they
suddenly cease from their mutual invective, and conclude the dispute
with a hearty laugh.
Once a most flagrant attempt at extortion was made by Kawawa, a
Balonda chief who had a very bad character, and was in disfavor with
Matiamvo, the supreme chief of the Balonda. He sent a body of men to a
ferry which they had to cross, in order to prevent the boatman taking
them over the river. The canoes were removed; and as the river was
at least a hundred yards wide, and very deep, Kawawa thought he had
the strangers at his mercy, and that if the cart, the ox, the gun,
the powder, and the slave, which he required, were not forthcoming,
he could keep the strangers until they were forced to comply with his
demands. However, during the night Dr. Livingstone swam to the place
where the canoes were hidden, ferried the whole party across, replaced
the canoe, together with some beads as payment for its use, and quietly
swam to the side, on which their party were now safely landed. Kawawa
had no idea that any of the travellers could swim, and the whole party
were greatly amused at the astonishment which they knew he must feel
when he found the travellers vanished and the canoes still in their
place of concealment.
Some of the Balonda have a very clever but rather mean method of
extorting money from travellers. When they ferry a party over the
river, they purposely drop or leave in a canoe a knife or some other
object of value. They then watch to see if any one will pick it up,
and, if so, seize their victim and accuse him of the theft. They always
manage to do so just before the headman of the party has been ferried
across, and threaten to retain him as a hostage until their demand be
paid. Dr. Livingstone once fell a victim to this trick, a lad belonging
to his party having picked up a knife which was thrown down as a bait
by one of the rascally boatmen. As the lad happened to possess one
of those precious shells which have been mentioned, he was forced to
surrender it to secure his liberty. Such conduct was, however, unusual
with the Balonda, and the two great chiefs, Shinte and Katema, behaved
with the greatest kindness to the travellers. The former chief gave
them a grand reception, which exhibited many of the manners and customs
of the people.
The royal throne was placed under the shade of a spreading banian tree,
and was covered with a leopard skin. The chief had disfigured himself
with a checked jacket and a green baize kilt; but, besides these
portions of civilized costume, he wore a multitude of native ornaments,
the most conspicuous being the number of copper and iron rings round
his arms and ankles, and a sort of bead helmet adorned with a large
plume of feathers. His three pages were close to him, and behind him
sat a number of women headed by his chief wife, who was distinguished
from the others by a cap of scarlet material.
In many other parts of Africa the women would have been rigidly
excluded from a public ceremony, and at the best might have been
permitted to see it from a distance; but among the Balonda the women
take their own part in such meetings: and on the present occasion
Shinto often turned and spoke to them, as if asking their opinion.
Manenko’s husband, Sambanza, introduced the party, and did so in
the usual manner, by saluting with ashes. After him the various
subdivisions of the tribe came forward in their order, headed by its
chief man, who carried ashes with him, and saluted the king on behalf
of his company. Then came the soldiers, who dashed forward at the white
visitor in their usually impetuous manner, shaking their spears in
his face, brandishing their shields, and making all kinds of menacing
gestures, which in this country is their usual way of doing honor to a
visitor. They then turned and saluted the king, and took their places.
Next came the speeches, Sambanza marching about before Shinte, and
announcing in a stentorian voice and with measured accents the whole
history of the white men and their reasons for visiting the country.
His argument for giving the travellers leave to pass through the
territory was rather an odd one. The white man certainly said that
he had come for the purpose of opening the country for trade, making
peace among the various tribes, and teaching them a better religion
than their own. Perhaps he was telling lies; for it was not easy to
believe that a white man who had such treasures at home would take the
trouble of coming out of the sea where he lived for the mere purpose
of conferring benefits on those whom he had never seen. On the whole,
they rather thought he was not speaking the truth. But still, though he
had plenty of fire-arms, he had not attacked the Balonda; and it was
perhaps more consistent with Shinte’s character as a wise and humane
chief, that he should receive the white men kindly, and allow them to
pass on.
Between the speeches the women filled up the time by chanting a wild
and plaintive melody; and that they were allowed to take more than a
passive part in the proceedings was evident from the frequency with
which they applauded the various speeches. Music was also employed at
the reception, the instruments being the marimba, which has already
been mentioned, and drums. These latter instruments are carved from
solid blocks of wood, cut into hollow cylinders, the ends of which are
covered with antelope skin, and tightly fastened by a row of small
wooden pegs. There is no method of bracing the skins such as we use
with our drums, and when the drum-heads become slack they are tightened
by being held to the fire. These drums are played with the hand, and
not with sticks.
The most curious part of these drums is the use of a small square hole
in the side, which seems to serve the same purpose as the percussion
hole in the European instrument. Instead, however, of being left open,
it is closed with a piece of spider’s web, which allows the needful
escape of air, while it seems to have a resonant effect. The web which
is used for this purpose is taken from the egg-case of a large species
of spider. It is of a yellow color, rather larger than a crown piece in
diameter, and is of wonderful toughness and elasticity. The custom of
using spider’s web in this manner prevails through a very large portion
of Africa, and is even found in those parts of Western Africa which
have introduced many European instruments among those which belonged to
them before they had made acquaintance with civilization.
The drums and marimba are played together; and on this occasion the
performers walked round and round the enclosure, producing music
which was really not unpleasant even to European ears. The marimba is
found, with various modifications, throughout the whole of this part
of Africa. Generally the framework is straight, and in that case the
instrument is mostly placed on the ground, and the musician plays it
while in a sitting or kneeling posture. But in some places, especially
where it is to be played by the musician on the march, the framework
is curved like the tire of a cart-wheel, so that, when the instrument
is suspended in front of the performer, he can reach the highest and
lowest keys without difficulty. The illustration on page 371 represents
one of the straight-framed marimbas, and is drawn from a specimen in
Colonel Lane Fox’s collection.
After this interview Shinte always behaved very kindly to the whole
party, and, as we have already seen, invested Dr. Livingtone with the
precious shell ornament before his departure.
As to Shinte’s niece, Manenko, the female chief, she was a woman who
really deserved her rank, from her bold and energetic character. She
insisted on conducting the party in her own manner; and when they
set out, she headed the expedition in person. It happened to be a
singularly unpleasant one, the rain falling in torrents, and yet this
very energetic lady marched on at a pace that could be equalled by few
of the men, and without the slightest protection from the weather, save
the coat of red grease and a charmed necklace. When asked why she did
not wear clothes, she said that a chief ought to despise such luxuries,
and ought to set an example of fortitude to the rest of the tribe.
Nearly all the members of the expedition complained of cold, wet, and
hunger, but this indefatigable lady pressed on in the very lightest
marching order, and not until they were all thoroughly wearied would
she consent to halt for the night. Her husband, Sambanza, had to march
in her train, accompanied by a man who had instructions to beat a
drum incessantly, which he did until the perpetual rain soaked the
skin-heads so completely that they would not produce a sound. Sambanza
had then to chant all kinds of invocations to the rain, which he did,
but without any particular effect.
She knew well what was her dignity, and never allowed it to be
encroached upon. On one occasion Dr. Livingstone had presented an ox
to Shinte. Manenko heard of it, and was extremely angry that such a
gift should have been made. She said that, as she was the chief of the
party who had brought the white men, the ox was hers, and not theirs,
as long as she was in command. So she sent for the ox straightway, had
it slaughtered by her own men, and then sent Shinte a leg. The latter
chief seemed to think that she was justified in what she had done, took
the leg, and said nothing about it.
Yet she did not forget that, although she was a chief, she was a woman,
and ought therefore to perform a woman’s duties. When the party stopped
for the night in some village, Manenko was accustomed to go to the huts
and ask for some maize, which she ground and prepared with her own
hands and brought to Dr. Livingstone, as he could not eat the ordinary
country meal without being ill afterward. She was also careful to
inform him of the proper mode of approaching a Balonda town or village.
It is bad manners to pass on and enter a town without having first
sent notice to the headman. As soon as a traveller comes within sight
of the houses, he ought to halt, and send forward a messenger to state
his name, and ask for permission to enter. The headman or chief then
comes out, meets the stranger under a tree, just as Shinte received Dr.
Livingstone, giving him a welcome, and appointing him a place where he
may sleep. Before he learned this piece of etiquette, several villages
had been much alarmed by the unannounced arrival of the visitors, who
were in consequence looked upon with fear and suspicion.
Afterward, when they came to visit the great chief Katema, they found
him quite as friendly as Shinte had been. He received them much after
the same manner, being seated, and having around him a number of armed
men or guards, and about thirty women behind him. In going to or coming
from the place of council, he rode on the shoulders of a man appointed
for the purpose, and who, through dint of long practice, performed his
task with apparent ease, though he was slightly made, and Katema was a
tall and powerful man. He had a great idea of his own dignity, and made
a speech in which he compared himself with Matiamvo, saying that he
was the great Moéne, or lord, the fellow of Matiamvo.
He was very proud of a small herd of cattle, about thirty in number,
mostly white in color, and as active as antelopes. He had bred them all
himself, but had no idea of utilizing them, and was quite delighted
when told that they could be milked, and the milk used for food. It is
strange that the Balonda are not a more pastoral people, as the country
is admirably adapted for the nurture of cattle, and all those which
were possessed by Katema, or even by Matiamvo himself, were in splendid
condition. So wild were Katema’s cattle, that when the chief had
presented the party with a cow, they were obliged to stalk and shoot
it, as if it had been a buffalo. The native who shot the cow being a
bad marksman, the cow was only wounded, and dashed off into the forest,
together with the rest of the herd. Even the herdsman was afraid to go
among them, and, after two days’ hunting, the wounded cow was at last
killed by another ball.
The Balonda are not only fond of cattle, but they do their best to
improve the breed. When a number of them went with Dr. Livingstone into
Angola, they expressed much contemptuous wonder at the neglect both of
land and of domesticated animals. They themselves are always on the
look-out for better specimens than their own, and even took the trouble
of carrying some large fowls all the way from Angola to Shinte’s
village. When they saw that even the Portuguese settlers slaughtered
little cows and heifer calves, and made no use of the milk, they at
once set the white men down as an inferior race. When they heard that
the flour used by these same settlers was nearly all imported from
a foreign country, they were astonished at the neglect of a land so
suited for agriculture as Angola. “These know nothing but buying and
selling; they are not men,” was the verdict given by the so called
savages.
The food of the Balonda is mostly of a vegetable character, and
consists in a great measure of the manioc, or cassava, which grows in
great abundance. There are two varieties of this plant, namely, the
sweet and the bitter, _i. e._ the poisonous. The latter, however, is
the quicker of growth, and consequently is chiefly cultivated. In order
to prepare it for consumption, it is steeped in water for four days,
when it becomes partially rotten, the skin comes off easily, and the
poisonous matter is easily extracted. It is then dried in the sun, and
can be pounded into a sort of meal.
When this meal is cooked, it is simply stirred into boiling water, one
man holding the vessel and putting in the meal, while the other stirs
it with all his might. The natives like this simple diet very much,
but to an European it is simply detestable. It has no flavor except
that which arises from partial decomposition, and it looks exactly
like ordinary starch when ready for the laundress. It has but little
nutritive power, and however much a man may contrive to eat, he is
as hungry two hours afterward as if he had fasted. Dr. Livingstone
compares it in appearance, taste, and odor, to potato starch made from
diseased tubers. Moreover, owing to the mode of preparing it, the
cooking is exceedingly imperfect, and, in consequence, its effects upon
ordinary European digestions may be imagined.
The manioc plant is largely cultivated, and requires but little labor,
the first planting involving nearly all the trouble. In the low-lying
valleys the earth is dug with the curious Balonda hoe, which has
two handles and one blade, and is scraped into parallel beds, about
three feet wide and one foot in height, much resembling those in
which asparagus is planted in England. In these beds pieces of the
manioc stalk are planted at four feet apart. In order to save space,
ground-nuts, beans, or other plants are sown between the beds, and,
after the crop is gathered, the ground is cleared of weeds, and the
manioc is left to nurture itself. It is fit for eating in a year or
eighteen months, according to the character of the soil; but there is
no necessity for digging it at once, as it may be left in the ground
for three years before it becomes dry and bitter. When a root is dug,
the woman cuts off two or three pieces of the stalk, puts them in the
hole which she has made, and thus a new crop is begun. Not only the
root is edible, but also the leaves, which are boiled and cooked as
vegetables.
The Balonda seldom can obtain meat, and even Shinte himself, great
chief as he was, had to ask for an ox, saying that his mouth was
bitter for the want of meat. The reader may remember that when the ox
in question was given, he was very thankful for the single leg which
Manenko allowed him to receive. The people are not so fastidious in
their food as many other tribes, and they are not above eating mice and
other small animals with their tasteless porridge. They also eat fowls
and eggs, and are fond of fish, which they catch in a very ingenious
manner.
When the floods are out, many fish, especially the silurus, or mosala,
as the natives call it, spread themselves over the land. Just before
the waters retire, the Balonda construct a number of earthen banks
across the outlets, leaving only small apertures for the water to pass
through. In these apertures they fix creels or baskets, so made that
the fish are forced to enter them as they follow the retreating waters,
but, once in, they cannot get out again. Sometimes, instead of earthen
walls, they plant rows of mats stretched between sticks, which answer
the same purpose.
They also use fish traps very like our own lobster pots, and place a
bait inside in order to attract the fish. Hooks are also employed; and
in some places they descend to the practice of poisoning the water, by
which means they destroy every fish, small and great, that comes within
range of the deadly juice. The fish when taken are cleaned, split open,
and dried in the smoke, so that they can be kept for a considerable
time.
Like other Africans, the Balonda make great quantities of beer, which
has more a stupefying than an intoxicating character, those who drink
it habitually being often seen lying on their faces fast asleep. A more
intoxicating drink is a kind of mead which they make, and of which some
of them are as fond as the old Ossianic heroes. Shinte had a great idea
of the medicinal properties of this mead, and recommended it to Dr.
Livingstone when he was very ill with a fever: “Drink plenty of mead,”
said he, “and it will drive the fever out.” Probably on account of its
value as a febrifuge, Shinte took plenty of his own prescription.
They have a most elaborate code of etiquette in eating. They will not
partake of food which has been cooked by strangers, neither will they
eat it except when alone. If a party of Balonda are travelling with men
of other tribes, they always go aside to cook their food, and then come
back, clap their hands, and return thanks to the leader of the party.
Each hut has always its own fire, and, instead of kindling it at the
chief’s fire, as is the custom with the Damaras, they always light it
at once with fire produced by friction.
So careful are the Balonda in this respect, that when Dr. Livingstone
killed an ox, and offered some of the cooked meat to his party, the
Balonda would not take it, in spite of their fondness for meat, and the
very few chances which they have of obtaining it. They did, however,
accept some of the raw meat, which they took away and cooked after
their own fashion. One of them was almost absurd in the many little
fashions which he followed and probably invented. When the meat was
offered to him, he, would not take it himself, as it was below his
dignity to carry meat. Accordingly he marched home in state, with a
servant behind him carrying a few ounces of meat on a platter. Neither
would he sit on the grass beside Dr. Livingstone. “He had never sat
on the ground during the late Matiamvo’s reign, and was not going to
degrade himself at his time of life.” So he seated himself on a log of
wood, and was happy at his untarnished dignity.
One of the little sub-tribes, an offshoot of the Balonda, was
remarkable for never eating beef on principle, saying that cattle are
like human beings, and live at home like men. (There are other tribes
who will not keep cattle, because, as they rightly say, the oxen bring
enemies and war upon them. But they are always glad to eat beef when
they can get it.) This tribe seems to be unique in its abstinence.
Although they have this idea about cattle, they will eat without
compunction the flesh of most wild animals, and in many cases display
great ingenuity in hunting them. They stalk the animals through the
long grass and brushwood, disguising themselves by wearing a cap made
of the skin taken from the head of an antelope, to which the horns are
still attached. When the animal which they are pursuing begins to be
alarmed at the rustling of the boughs or shaking of the grass, they
only thrust the horned mask into view, and move it about as if it were
the head of a veritable antelope. This device quiets suspicion, and
so the hunter proceeds until he is near enough to deliver his arrow.
Some of these hunters prefer the head and neck of the jabiru, or great
African crane.
As far as is known, the Balonda are not a warlike people, though they
are in the habit of carrying arms, and have a very formidable look.
Their weapons are short knife-like swords, shields, and bows and
arrows, the latter being iron headed. The shields are made of reeds
plaited firmly together. They are square or rather oblong, in form,
measuring about five feet in length and three in width.
The architecture of the Balonda is simple, but ingenious. Every house
is surrounded with a palisade which to all appearance has no door, and
is always kept closed, so that a stranger may walk round and round it,
and never find the entrance. In one part of the palisade the stakes
are not fastened to each other, but two or three are merely stuck
into their holes in the ground. When the inhabitants of the huts wish
to enter or leave their dwellings, they simply pull up two or three
stakes, squeeze themselves through the aperture, and replace them, so
that no sign of a doorway is left. The reader may perhaps remember that
the little wooden bird-cages in which canaries are brought to England
are opened and closed in exactly the same manner, some movable bars
supplying the place of a door.
Sometimes they vary the material of their fences, and make them of
tall and comparatively slight rods fastened tightly together. Shinte’s
palace was formed after this manner, and the interior space was
decorated with clumps of trees which had been planted for the sake
of the shade which they afforded. That these trees had really been
planted, and not merely left standing, was evident from the fact that
several young trees were seen recently set, with a quantity of grass
twisted round their stems to protect them against the sun. Even the
corners of the streets were planted with sugar-canes and bananas, so
that the social system of the Balonda seems to be of rather a high
order. One petty chief, called Mozinkwa, had made the hedge of his
enclosure of green banian branches which had taken root, and so formed
a living hedge.
It is a pity that so much care and skill should be so often thrown
away. As the traveller passes through the Londa districts he often
sees deserted houses, and even villages. The fact is, that either the
husband or the chief wife has died, and the invariable custom is to
desert the locality, and never to revisit it except to make offerings
to the dead. Thus it happens that permanent localities are impossible,
because the death of a chief’s wife would cause the whole village to be
deserted, just as is the case with a house when an ordinary man dies.
This very house and garden underwent the usual lot, for Mozinkwa lost
his favorite wife, and in a few months house, garden, and hedges had
all gone to ruin.
The Balonda have a most remarkable custom of cementing friendship.
When two men agree to be special friends, they go through a singular
ceremony. The men sit opposite each other with clasped hands, and by
the side of each is a vessel of beer. Slight cuts are then made on the
clasped hands, on the pit of the stomach, on the right cheek, and on
the forehead. The point of a grass blade is then pressed against each
of these cuts, so as to take up a little of the blood, and each man
washes the grass blade in his own beer-vessel. The vessels are then
exchanged and the contents drunk, so that each imbibes the blood of
the other. They are then considered as blood relations, and are bound
to assist each other in every possible manner. While the beer is being
drunk, the friends of each of the men beat on the ground with clubs,
and bawl out certain sentences as ratification of the treaty. It is
thought correct for all the friends of each party to the contract to
drink a little of the beer. This ceremony is called “kasendi.” After
the ceremony has been completed, gifts are exchanged, and both parties
always give their most precious possessions.
Dr. Livingstone once became related to a young woman in rather a
curious manner. She had a tumor in her arm, and asked him to remove
it. As he was doing so, a little blood spirted from one of the small
arteries and entered his eye. As he was wiping it out, she hailed him
as a blood relation, and said that whenever he passed through the
country he was to send word to her, that she might wait upon him, and
cook for him. Men of different tribes often go through this ceremony,
and on the present occasion all Dr. Livingstone’s men, whether they
were Batoka, Makololo, or of other tribes, became _Molekanes_, or
friends, to the Balonda.
As to their religious belief, it is but confused and hazy, still it
exercises a kind of influence over them. They have a tolerably clear
idea of a Supreme Being, whom they call by different names according to
their dialect. The Balonda use the word Zambi, but Morimo is one name
which is understood through a very large tract of country. The Balonda
believe that Zambi rules over all other spirits and minor deities just
as their king Matiamvo rules over the greater and lesser chiefs. When
they undergo the poison ordeal, which is used as much among them as in
other tribes, they hold up their hands to heaven, and thus appeal to
the Great Spirit to judge according to right.
Among the Balonda we come for the first time among idols or fetishes,
whichever may be the correct title. One form of idol is very common
in Balonda villages, and is called by the name of a lion, though a
stranger uninitiated in its mysteries would certainly take it for
a crocodile, or at all events a lizard of some kind. It is a long
cylindrical roll of grass plastered over with clay. One end represents
the head, and is accordingly furnished with a mouth, and a couple of
cowrie shells by way of eyes. The other end tapers gradually into a
tail, and the whole is supported on four short straight legs. The
native modeller seems to have a misgiving that the imitation is not
quite so close as might be wished, and so sticks in the neck a number
of hairs from an elephant’s tail, which are supposed to represent the
mane.
These singular idols are to be seen in most Balonda villages. They are
supposed to represent the deities who have dominion over disease; and
when any inhabitant of the village is ill, his friends go to the lion
idol, and pray all night before it, beating their drums, and producing
that amount of noise which seems to be an essential accompaniment of
religious rites among Africans. Some idols may be perhaps more properly
called teraphim, as by their means the medicine men foretell future
events. These idols generally rest on a horizontal beam fastened
to two uprights--a custom which is followed in Dahomé when a human
sacrifice has been made. The medicine men tell their clients that by
their ministrations they can force the teraphim to speak, and that thus
they are acquainted with the future. They are chiefly brought into
requisition in war-time, when they are supposed to give notice of the
enemy’s approach.
These idols take various shapes. Sometimes they are intended to
represent certain animals, and sometimes are fashioned into the rude
semblance of the human head. When the superstitious native does not
care to take the trouble of carving or modelling an idol, he takes
a crooked stick, fixes it in the ground, rubs it with some strange
compound, and so his idol is completed. Trees are pressed into the
service of the heathen worshipper. Offerings of maize or manioc root
are laid on the branches, and incisions are made in the bark, some
being mere knife-cuts, and others rude outlines of the human face.
Sticks, too, are thrown on the ground in heaps, and each traveller that
passes by is supposed to throw at least one stick on the heap.
Sometimes little models of huts are made, and in them are placed pots
of medicine; and in one instance a small farmhouse was seen, and in
it was the skull of an ox by way of an idol. The offerings which are
made are generally some article of food; and some of the Balonda are so
fearful of offending the denizens of the unseen world, that whenever
they receive a present, they always offer a portion of it to the
spirits of their dead relations.
One curious legend was told to Dr. Livingstone, and is worthy of
mention, because it bears a resemblance to the old mythological story
of Latona. There is a certain lake called in Londa-land Dilolo,
respecting which the following story was told to the white visitors:--
“A female chief, called Moéne (lord) Monenga, came one evening to the
village of Mosogo, a man who lived in the vicinity, but who had gone to
hunt with his dogs. She asked for a supply of food, and Mosogo’s wife
gave her a sufficient quantity. Proceeding to another village, standing
on the spot now occupied by the water, she preferred the same demand,
and was not only refused, but, when she uttered a threat for their
niggardliness, was taunted with the question, ‘What could she do though
she were thus treated?’
“In order to show what she could do, she began a song in slow time,
and uttered her own name, ‘Monenga-wo-o.’ As she prolonged the last
note, the village, people, fowls, and dogs sank into the space now
called Dilolo. When Kasimakàte, the headman of the village, came home
and found out the catastrophe, he cast himself into the lake, and is
supposed to be in it still. The name is taken from ‘ilólo,’ despair,
because this man gave up all hope when his family was destroyed.
Monenga was put to death.”
The Balonda are certainly possessed of a greater sense of religion than
is the case with tribes which have been described. They occasionally
exhibit a feeling of reverence, which implies a religious turn of mind,
though the object toward which it may manifest itself be an unworthy
one. During Dr. Livingstone’s march through the Londa country the party
was accompanied by a medicine man belonging to the tribe which was
ruled by Manenko. The wizard in question carried his sacred implements
in a basket, and was very reverential in his manner toward them. When
near these sacred objects, he kept silence as far as possible, and, if
he were forced to speak, never raised his voice above a whisper. Once,
when a Batoka man happened to speak in his usual loud tones when close
to the basket, the doctor administered a sharp reproof, his anxious
glances at the basket showing that he was really in earnest. It so
happened that another female chief, called Nyamoana, was of the party,
and, when they had to cross a stream that passed by her own village,
she would not venture to do so until the doctor had waved his charms
over her, and she had further fortified herself by taking some in her
hands, and hanging others round her neck.
As the Balonda believe in a Supreme Being, it is evident that they also
believe in the immortality of the human spirit. Here their belief has
a sort of consistency, and opposes a curious obstacle to the efforts
of missionaries; even Dr. Livingstone being unable to make any real
impression on them. They fancy that when a Balonda man dies, he may
perhaps take the form of some animal, or he may assume his place among
the Barimo, or inferior deities, this word being merely the plural form
of Morimo. In either case the enfranchised spirit still belongs to
earth, and has no aspirations for a higher state of existence.
Nor can the missionary make any impression on their minds with regard
to the ultimate destiny of human souls. They admit the existence of
the Supreme Being; they see no objection to the doctrine that the
Maker of mankind took on Himself the humanity which He had created;
they say that they always have believed that man lives after the death
of the body; and apparently afford a good basis for instruction in
the Christian religion. But, although the teachers can advance thus
far, they are suddenly checked by the old objection that white and
black men are totally different, and that, although the spirits of
deceased white men may go into a mysterious and incomprehensible
heaven, the deceased Balonda prefer to remain near their villages which
were familiar to them in life, and to assist those who have succeeded
them in their duties. This idea may probably account for the habit of
deserting their houses after the death of any of the family.
During the funeral ceremonies a perpetual and deafening clamor is kept
up, the popular notion seeming to be, that the more noise they can
make, the greater honor is due to the deceased. Wailing is carried on
with loud piercing cries, drums are beaten, and, if fire-arms have
been introduced among them, guns are fired. These drums are not beaten
at random, but with regular measured beats. They are played all night
long, and their sound has been compared to the regular beating of a
paddle-wheel engine. Oxen are slaughtered and the flesh cooked for a
feast, and great quantities of beer and mead are drunk. The cost of a
funeral in these parts is therefore very great, and it is thought a
point of honor to expend as much wealth as can be got together for the
purpose.
The religious element is represented by a kind of idol or figure
covered with feathers, which is carried about during some parts of the
ceremony; and in some places a man, in a strange dress, covered with
feathers, dances with the mourners all night, and retires to the feast
in the early morning. He is supposed to be the representative of the
Barimo, or spirits.
The position of the grave is usually marked with certain objects. One
of these graves was covered with a huge cone of sticks laid together
like the roof of a hut, and a palisade was erected round the cone.
There was an opening on one side, in which was placed an ugly idol, and
a number of bits of cloth and strings of beads were hung around.
THE ANGOLESE.
Westward of the country which has just been described is a large
district that embraces a considerable portion of the coast, and extends
far inward. This country is well known under the name of Angola. As
this country has been held for several centuries by the Portuguese, who
have extended their settlements for six or seven hundred miles into the
interior, but few of the original manners and customs have survived,
and even those have been modified by the contact with white settlers.
As, however, Angola is a very important, as well as large country,
a short account will be given of the natives before we proceed more
northward.
The chiefs of the Angolese are elected, and the choice must be made
from certain families. In one place there are three families from
which the chief is chosen in rotation. The law of succession is rather
remarkable, the eldest brother inheriting property in preference to
the son; and if a married man dies, his children belong to his widow’s
eldest brother, who not unfrequently converts them into property by
selling them to the slave dealers. It is in this manner, as has been
well remarked, that the slave trade is supplied, rather than by war.
The inhabitants of this land, although dark, are seldom if ever black,
their color being brownish red, with a tinge of yellow; and, although
they are so close to the country inhabited by the true negroes, they
have but few of the negro traits. Their features are not those of the
negro, the nose being rather aquiline, and broad at base, their hair
woolly, but tolerably long and very abundant, and their lips moderately
thick. The hands and feet are exquisitely small, and, as Mr. Reade
observes, Angolese slaves afford a bold contrast with those who are
brought from the Congo.
Of the women the same traveller writes in terms of considerable praise,
as far as their personal appearance goes. There are girls in that
country who have such soft dark eyes, such sweet smiles, and such
graceful ways, that they involuntarily win a kind of love, only it is
that sort of semi-love which is extended to a dog, a horse, or a bird,
and has in it nothing of the intellect. They are gentle, and faithful,
and loving in their own way; but, though they can inspire a passion,
they cannot retain the love of an intellectual man.
As is the case with the Balonda, the Angolese live greatly on manioc
roots, chiefly for the same reason as the Irish peasantry live so much
on the potato, _i. e._ because its culture and cooking give very little
trouble. The preparation of the soil and planting of the shrub are the
work of slaves, the true Angolese having a very horror of hard work.
Consequently the labor is very imperfectly performed, the ground being
barely scratched by the double-handled hoe, which is used by dragging
it along the ground rather than by striking it into the earth.
The manioc is, however, a far more useful plant than the potato,
especially the “sweet” variety, which is free from the poisonous
principle. It can be eaten raw, just as it comes out of the ground,
or it can be roasted or boiled. Sometimes it is partially fermented,
then dried and ground into meal, or reduced to powder by a rasp, mixed
with sugar, and made into a sort of confectionery. The leaves can be
boiled and eaten as a vegetable, or, if they be given to goats, the
latter yield a bountiful supply of milk. The wood affords an excellent
fuel, and, when burned, it furnishes a large quantity of potash. On the
average, it takes about a year to come to perfection in Angola, and
only requires to be weeded once during that time.
The meal or roots cannot be stored, as they are liable to the attacks
of a weevil which quickly destroys them, and therefore another plan is
followed. The root is scraped like horseradish, and laid on a cloth
which is held over a vessel. Water is then poured on it, and the white
shavings are well rubbed with the hands. All the starch-globules are
thus washed out of their cells, and pass through the cloth into the
vessel below together with the water. When this mixture has been
allowed to stand for some time, the starchy matter collects in a sort
of sediment, and the water is poured away. The sediment is then
scraped out, and placed on an iron plate which is held over a fire.
The gelatinous mass is then continually stirred with a stick, and by
degrees it forms itself into little translucent globules, which are
almost exactly identical with the tapioca of commerce. The advantage of
converting the manioc-root into tapioca is, that in the latter state it
is impervious to the destructive weevil.
Some parts of Angola are low, marshy, and fever-breeding, and even
the natives feel the effects of the damp, hot, malarious climate. Of
medicine, however, they have but little idea, their two principal
remedies being cupping and charms. The former is a remedy which is
singularly popular, and is conducted in much the same way throughout
the whole of Africa south of the equator. The operator has three
implements, namely, a small horn, a knife, and a piece of wax. The horn
is cut quite level at the base, and great care is taken that the edge
be perfectly smooth. The smaller end is perforated with a very small
hole. This horn is generally tied to a string and hung round the neck
of the owner, who is usually a professional physician. The knife is
small, and shaped exactly like the little Bechuana knife shown at the
top of page 281.
When the cupping horn is to be used, the wide end is placed on the
afflicted part, and pressed down tightly, while the mouth is applied to
the small end, and the air exhausted. The operator continues to suck
for some moments, and then removes the horn, and suddenly makes three
or four gashes with the knife on the raised and reddened skin. The horn
is again applied, and when the operator has sucked out the air as far
as his lungs will allow him, he places with his tongue a small piece
of wax on the end of the horn, introduces his finger into his mouth,
presses the wax firmly on the little aperture so as to exclude the air,
and then allows the horn to remain adherent by the pressure of the
atmosphere. The blood of course runs into the horn, and in a short time
coagulates into a flat circular cake. The wax is then removed from the
end of the horn, the latter is taken off, the cake of blood put aside,
and the process repeated until the operator and patient are satisfied.
Dr. Livingstone mentions a case in which this strange predilection
for the cupping horn clearly hastened, even if it did not produce,
the death of a child. The whole story is rather a singular one, and
shows the state of religious, or rather superstitious, feeling among
the native Angolese. It so happened that a Portuguese trader died in a
village, and after his death the other traders met and disposed of his
property among themselves, each man accounting for his portion to the
relations of the deceased, who lived at Loanda, the principal town of
Angola. The generality of the natives, not understanding the nature of
written obligations, thought that the traders had simply sold the goods
and appropriated the money.
Some time afterward the child of a man who had bought some of this
property fell ill, and the mother sent for the diviner in order to
find out the cause of its ailment. After throwing his magic dice,
and working himself up to the proper pitch of ecstatic fury, the
prophet announced that the child was being killed by the spirit of the
deceased trader in revenge for his stolen property. The mother was
quite satisfied with the revelation, and wanted to give the prophet a
slave by way of a fee. The father, however, was less amenable, and, on
learning the result of the investigation, he took a friend with him to
the place where the diviner was still in his state of trance, and by
the application of two sticks to his back restored him to his senses.
Even after this the ignorant mother would not allow the child to be
treated with European medicines, but insisted on cupping it on the
cheek; and the consequence was, that in a short time the child died.
The Angolese are a marvellously superstitious people, and, so far from
having lost any of their superstitions by four centuries of connection
with the Portuguese, they seem rather to have infected their white
visitors with them. Ordeals of several kinds are in great use among
them, especially the poison ordeal, which has extended itself through
so large a portion of Africa, and slays its thousands annually. One
curious point in the Angolese ordeal is, that it is administered in one
particular spot on the banks of the river Dua, and that persons who are
accused of crime, especially of witchcraft, will travel hundreds of
miles to the sacred spot, strong in their belief that the poison tree
will do them no harm. It is hardly necessary to state that the guilt or
innocence of the person on trial depends wholly on the caprice of the
medicine man who prepares the poisonous draught, and that he may either
weaken it or substitute another material without being discovered by
these credulous people.
As, according to Balonda ideas, the spirits of the deceased are always
with their friends on earth, partaking equally in their joys and
sorrows, helping those whom they love, and thwarting those whom they
hate, they are therefore supposed to share in an ethereal sort of way
in the meals taken by their friends; and it follows that when a man
denies himself food, he is not only starving himself, but afflicting
the spirits of his ancestors. Sacrifices are a necessary result of this
idea, as is the cooking and eating of the flesh by those who offer them.
Their theory of sickness is a very simple one. They fancy that if the
spirits of the dead find that their living friends do not treat them
properly, and give them plenty to eat and drink, the best thing to do
is to take out of the world such useless allies, in order to make room
for others who will treat them better. The same idea also runs into
their propitiatory sacrifices. If one man kills another, the murderer
offers sacrifices to his victim, thinking that if when he first finds
himself a spirit, instead of a man, he is treated to an abundant feast,
he will not harbor feelings of revenge against the man who sent him
out of the world, and deprived him of all its joys and pleasures. It
is said that in some parts of the country human sacrifices are used, a
certain sect existing who kill men in order to offer their hearts to
the spirits.
Marriages among the Angolese still retain some remnant of their
original ceremonies. The bride is taken to a hut, anointed with various
charmed preparations, and then left alone while prayers are offered
for a happy marriage and plenty of male children, a large family of
sons being one of the greatest blessings that can fall to the lot
of an Angolese household. Daughters are comparatively despised, but
a woman who has never presented her husband with children of either
sex is looked upon with the greatest scorn and contempt. Her more
fortunate companions are by no means slow in expressing their opinion
of her, and in the wedding songs sung in honor of a bride are sure to
introduce a line or two reflecting upon her uselessness, and hoping
that the bride will not be so unprofitable a wife as to give neither
sons nor daughters to her husband as a recompense for the money which
he has paid for her. So bitter are these words, that the woman at whom
they were aimed has been more than once known to rush off and destroy
herself.
After several days of this performance, the bride is taken to another
hut, clothed in all the finery that she possesses or can borrow for the
occasion, led out in public, and acknowledged as a married woman. She
then goes to her husband’s dwelling, but always has a hut to herself.
Into their funeral ceremonies the Angolese contrive to introduce many
of their superstitions. Just before death the friends set up their
wailing cry (which must be very consolatory to the dying person),
and continue this outcry for a day or two almost without cessation,
accompanying themselves with a peculiar musical instrument which
produces tones of a similar character. For a day or two the survivors
are employed in gathering materials for a grand feast, in which they
expend so much of their property that they are often impoverished for
years. They even keep pigs and other animals in case some of their
friends might die, when they would be useful at the funeral. True to
the idea that the spirit of the dead partakes of the pleasures of
the living, they feast continually until all the food is expended,
interposing their revelling with songs and dances. The usual drum
beating goes on during the time, and scarcely one of the party is to
be found sober. Indeed, a man who would voluntarily remain sober would
be looked upon as despising the memory of the dead. Dr. Livingstone
mentions that a native who appeared in a state of intoxication, and was
blamed for it, remarked in a surprised tone, “Why, my mother is dead!”
They have a curious hankering after cross-roads as a place of
interment, and although the Portuguese, the real masters of the land,
have endeavored to abolish the custom, they have not yet succeeded in
doing so, even though they inflict heavy fines on those who disobeyed
them, and appointed places of public interment. Even when the interment
of the body in the cross-road itself has been prevented, the natives
have succeeded in digging the grave by the side of the path. On and
around it they plant certain species of euphorbias, and on the grave
they lay various articles, such as cooking vessels, water bottles,
pipes, and arms. These, however, are all broken and useless, being
thought equally serviceable to the dead as the perfect specimens, and
affording no temptation to thieves.
A very remarkable and striking picture of the Angolese, their
superstitions, and their country, is given by Dr. Livingstone in the
following passage:--
“When the natives turn their eyes to the future world, they have a view
cheerless enough of their own utter helplessness and hopelessness.
They fancy themselves completely in the power of the disembodied
spirits, and look upon the prospect of following them as the greatest
of misfortunes. Hence they are constantly deprecating the wrath of
departed souls, believing that, if they are appeased, there is no
other cause of death but witchcraft, which may be averted by charms.
“The whole of the colored population of Angola are sunk in these
gross superstitions, but have the opinion, notwithstanding, that they
are wiser in these matters than their white neighbors. Each tribe
has a consciousness of following its own best interests in the best
way. They are by no means destitute of that self-esteem which is so
common in other nations; yet they fear all manner of phantom, and have
half-developed ideas and traditions of something or other, they know
not what. The pleasures of animal life are ever present to their minds
as the supreme good; and, but for the innumerable invisibilities, they
might enjoy their luxurious climate as much as it is possible for man
to do.
“I have often thought, in travelling through their land, that it
presents pictures of beauty which angels might enjoy. How often have
I beheld in still mornings scenes the very essence of beauty, and
all bathed in a quiet air of delicious warmth! yet the occasional
soft motion imparted a pleasing sensation of coolness, as of a fan.
Green grassy meadows, the cattle feeding, the goats browsing, the
kids skipping; the groups of herdboys with miniature bows, arrows,
and spears; the women wending their way to the river, with water-pots
poised jauntily on their heads; men sewing under the shady banians;
and old gray-headed fathers sitting on the ground, with staff in
hand, listening to the morning gossip, while others carry trees or
branches to repair their hedges; and all this, flooded with the bright
African sunshine, and the birds singing among the branches before the
heat of the day has become intense, form pictures which can never be
forgotten.”
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE WAGOGO AND WANYAMUEZI.
THE MANY AND TRANSITORY TRIBES OF AFRICA -- UGOGO AND THE PEOPLE --
UNPLEASANT CHARACTER OF THE WAGOGO -- THEFT AND EXTORTION -- WAGOGO
GREEDINESS -- THE WANYAMUEZI OR WEEZEE TRIBE -- THEIR VALUE AS GUIDES
-- DRESS OF THE MEN -- “SAMBO” RINGS -- WOMEN’S DRESS AND ORNAMENTS
-- HAIR-DRESSING -- GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE WOMEN -- WEEZEE
ARCHITECTURE -- USE OF THE DRUM -- SALUTATION -- SULTAN STIRABOUT --
THE HUSBAND’S WELCOME -- GAMES AND DANCES -- SHAM FIGHTS -- PITCH AND
TOSS -- NIGHT IN A WEEZEE VILLAGE -- BREWING AND DRINKING POMBE --
HARVEST SCENE -- SUPERSTITIONS -- FUNERALS.
We will now pass from the west to the east of Africa, and accompany
Captains Speke and Grant in their journey through the extraordinary
tribes that exist between Zanzibar and Northern Africa. It will be
impossible to describe in detail the many tribes that inhabit this
tract, or even to give the briefest account of them. We shall therefore
select a few of the most important among them, and describe them as
fully as our very limited space will permit.
Perhaps the reader may think it strange that we are lingering so long
in this part of the world. The reason is, that Africa, southern and
equatorial, is filled with a bewildering variety of singular tribes,
each of which has manners and customs unique in themselves, and
presents as great a contrast to its neighbors as if they were separated
by seas or mountain ranges. Sometimes they merge into each other by
indefinable gradations, but often the line of demarcation is boldly and
sharply drawn, so that the tribe which inhabits one bank of a river is
utterly unlike that which occupies the opposite bank, in appearance, in
habits, and in language. In one case, for example, the people who live
on one side of the river are remarkable for the scrupulous completeness
with which both sexes are clad, while on the other side no clothing
whatever is worn.
The same cause which has given us the knowledge of these remarkable
tribes will inevitably be the precursor of their disappearance. The
white man has set his foot on their soil, and from that moment may be
dated their gradual but certain decadence. They have learned the value
of fire-arms, and covet them beyond everything. Their chiefs have
already abandoned the use of their native weapons, having been wealthy
enough to purchase muskets from the white men, or powerful enough to
extort them as presents. The example which they have set is sure to
extend to the people, and a few years will therefore witness the entire
abandonment of native-made weapons. With the weapons their mode of
warfare will be changed, and in course of time the whole people will
undergo such modifications that they will be an essentially different
race. It is the object of this work to bring together, as far as
possible in a limited space, the most remarkable of these perishing
usages, and it is therefore necessary to expend the most space on the
country that affords most of them.
The line that we now have to follow can be seen by referring to a map
of Africa. We shall start from Zanzibar on the east coast, go westward
and northward, passing by the Unyamuezi and Wahuma to the great N’yanza
lakes. Here we shall come upon the track of Sir Samuel Baker, and shall
then accompany him northward among the tribes which he visited.
Passing by a number of tribes which we cannot stop to investigate, we
come upon the Wagogo, who inhabit Ugogo, a district about lat. 4° S.
and long. 36° E. Here I may mention that, although the language of
some of these tribes is so different that the people cannot understand
each other, in most of them the prefix “Wa” indicates plurality, like
the word “men” in English. Thus the people of Ugogo are the Wagogo,
and the inhabitants of Unyamuezi are the Wanyamuezi, pronounced, for
brevity’s sake, Weezee. An individual of the Wagogo is called Mgogo.
The Wagogo are a wild set of people, such as might be expected from the
country in which they live. Their color is reddish-brown, with a tinge
of black; and when the skin happens to be clean, it is said to look
like a very ripe plum. They are scanty dressers, wearing little except
a cloth of some kind round the waist; but they are exceedingly fond of
ornaments, by means of which they generally contrive to make themselves
as ugly as possible. Their principal ornament is the tubular end of a
gourd, which is thrust through the ear; but they also decorate their
heads with hanks of bark fibre, which they twist among their thick
woolly hair, and which have a most absurd appearance when the wearer is
running or leaping. Sometimes they weave strings of beads into the hair
in a similar manner, or fasten an ostrich feather upon their heads.
They are not a warlike people, but, like others who are not remarkable
for courage, they always go armed; a Mgogo never walking without
his spear and shield, and perhaps a short club, also to be used as
a missile. The shield is oblong, and made of leather, and the spear
has nothing remarkable about it; and, as Captain Speke remarks, these
weapons are carried more for show than for use.
They are not a pleasant people, being avaricious, intrusive, and
inquisitive, ingrained liars, and sure to bully if they think they can
do so with safety. If travellers pass through their country, they are
annoying beyond endurance, jeering at them with words and insolent
gestures, intruding themselves among the party, and turning over
everything that they can reach, and sometimes even forcing themselves
into the tents. Consequently the travellers never enter the villages,
but encamp at some distance from them, under the shelter of the
wide-spreading “gouty-limbed trees” that are found in this country,
and surround their camp with a strong hedge of thorns, which the naked
Mgogo does not choose to encounter.
Covetous even beyond the ordinary avarice of African tribes, the
Wagogo seize every opportunity of fleecing travellers who come into
their territory. Beside the usual tax or “hongo,” which is demanded
for permission to pass through the country, they demand all sorts
of presents, or rather bribes. When one of Captain Speke’s porters
happened to break a bow by accident, the owner immediately claimed as
compensation something of ten times its value.
Magomba, the chief, proved himself an adept at extortion. First he
sent a very polite message, requesting Captain Speke to reside in
his own house, but this flattering though treacherous proposal was
at once declined. In the first place, the houses of this part of the
country are small and inconvenient, being nothing more than mud huts
with flat-topped roofs, this kind of architecture being called by the
name of “tembe.” In the next place, the chief’s object was evidently
to isolate the leader of the expedition from his companions, and so to
have a hold upon him. This he could more easily do, as the villages are
strongly walled, so that a traveller who is once decoyed inside them
could not escape without submitting to the terms of the inhabitants.
Unlike the villages of the Southern Africans, which are invariably
circular, these are invariably oblong, and both the walls and the
houses are made of mud.
Next day Magomba had drunk so much pombé that he was quite unfit for
business, but on the following day the hongo was settled, through
the chief’s prime minister, who straightway did a little business on
his own account by presenting a small quantity of food, and asking
for an adequate return, which, of course, meant one of twenty times
its value. Having secured this, he proceeded to further extortion
by accusing Captain Grant of having shot a lizard on a stone which
he was pleased to call sacred. So, too, none of them would give any
information without being paid for it. And, because they thought
that their extortion was not sufficiently successful, they revenged
themselves by telling the native porters such horrifying tales of the
countries which they were about to visit and the cruelty of the white
men, that the porters were frightened, and ran away, some forgetting to
put down their loads. These tactics were repeated at every village near
which the party had to pass, and at one place the chief threatened to
attack Captain Speke’s party, and at the same time sent word to all the
porters that they had better escape, or they would be killed. Half of
them did escape, taking with them the goods which would have been due
to them as payment; and, as appeared afterward, the rascally Wagogo had
arranged that they should do so, and then they would go shares in the
plunder.
They were so greedy, that they not only refused to sell provisions
except at an exorbitant rate, but, when the leaders of the expedition
shot game to supply food for their men, the Wagogo flocked to the spot
in multitudes, each man with his arms, and did their best to carry off
the meat before the rightful owners could reach it. Once, when they
were sadly in want of food, Captain Speke went at night in search of
game, and shot a rhinoceros. By earliest dawn he gave notice to his men
that there was plenty of meat for them.
“We had all now to hurry back to the carcass before the Wagogo could
find it; but, though this precaution was quickly taken, still, before
the tough skin of the beast could be cut through, the Wagogo began
assembling like vultures, and fighting with my men. A more savage,
filthy, disgusting, but at the same time grotesque, scene than that
which followed cannot be described. All fell to work with swords,
spears, knives, and hatchets, cutting and slashing, thumping and
bawling, fighting and tearing, up to their knees in filth and blood
in the middle of the carcass. When a tempting morsel fell to the
possession of any one, a stronger neighbor would seize and bear off
the prize in triumph. All right was now a matter of pure might, and
lucky it was that it did not end in a fight between our men and
the villagers. These might be afterward seen, covered with blood,
scampering home each one with his spoil--a piece of tripe, or liver,
or lights, or whatever else it might have been his fortune to get off
with.” The artist has represented this scene on the next page.
It might be imagined that the travellers were only too glad to be
fairly out of the dominions of this tribe, who had contrived to cheat
and rob them in every way, and had moreover, through sheer spite and
covetousness, frightened away more than a hundred porters who had been
engaged to carry the vast quantities of goods with which the traveller
must bribe the chiefs of the different places through which he passes.
THE WANYAMUEZI.
The next tribe which we shall mention is that which is called
Wanyamuezi. Fortunately the natives seldom use this word in full, and
speak of themselves as Weezee, a word much easier to say, and certainly
simpler to write. In the singular the name is Myamuezi. The country
which they inhabit is called Unyamuezi, The Country of the Moon.
Unyamuezi is a large district about the size of England, in lat. 5°
S. and between long. 3° and 5° E. Formerly it must have been a great
empire, but it has now suffered the fate of most African tribes, and
is split into a number of petty tribes, each jealous of the other, and
each liable to continual subdivision.
For many reasons this is a most remarkable tribe. They are almost the
only people near Central Africa who will willingly leave their own
country, and, for the sake of wages, will act as porters or guides
to distant countries. It seems that this capability of travel is
hereditary among them, and that they have been from time immemorial the
greatest trading tribe in Africa. It was to this tribe that the porters
belonged who were induced by the Wagogo to desert Captain Speke, and
none knew better than themselves that in no other tribe could he find
men to supply their places.
The Weezee are not a handsome race, being inferior in personal
appearance to the Wagogo, though handsome individuals of both sexes
may be found among them. Like the Wagogo, they are not a martial race,
though they always travel with their weapons, such as they are, _i. e._
a very inefficient bow and a couple of arrows. Their dress is simple
enough. They wear the ordinary cloth round the loins; but when they
start on a journey they hang over their shoulders a dressed goatskin,
which passes over one shoulder and under the other. On account of its
narrowness, it can hardly answer any purpose of warmth, and for the
same reason can hardly be intended to serve as a covering. However, it
seems to be the fashion, and they all wear it.
They decorate themselves with plenty of ornaments, some of which are
used as amulets, and the others merely worn as decoration. They have
one very curious mode of making their bracelets. They take a single
hair of a giraffe’s tail, wrap it round with wire, just like the bass
string of a violin, and then twist this compound rope round their
wrists or ankles. These rings are called by the name of “sambo,”
and, though they are mostly worn by women, the men will put them on
when they have nothing better. Their usual bracelets are, however,
heavy bars of copper or iron, beaten into the proper shape. Like
other natives in the extreme South, they knock out the two central
incisor teeth of the lower jaw, and chip a V-like space between the
corresponding teeth of the upper jaw.
The women are far better dressed. They wear tolerably large cloths made
by themselves of native cotton, and cover the whole body from under the
arms to below the knees. They wear the sambo rings in vast profusion,
winding them round and round their wrists and ankles until the limbs
are sheathed in metallic armor for six or seven inches. If they can do
so, they naturally prefer wearing calico and other materials brought
from Europe, partly because it is a sign of wealth, and partly because
it is much lighter than the native-made cotton cloths, though not so
durable.
[Illustration: (1.) WAGOGO GREEDINESS. (See Page 386.)]
[Illustration: (2.) ARCHITECTURE OF THE WEEZEE. (See Page 387.)]
Their woolly hair is plentifully dressed with oil and twisted up,
until at a little distance they look as if they had a headdress of
black-beetle shards. Sometimes they screw it into tassels, and hang
beads at the end of each tassel, or decorate them with little charms
made of beads. The manner in which these “tags” are made is very
simple. There is a kind of banian tree called the miambo, and from
this are cut a quantity of slender twigs. These twigs are then split
longitudinally, the outer and inner bark separated, and then well
chewed until the fibres are properly arranged. At first they are much
lighter in color than the black woolly hair to which they are fastened,
but they soon become blackened by use and grease. They use a little
tattooing, but not much, making three lines on each temple, and another
down the middle of the nose. Lines of blue are often seen on the
foreheads of both sexes, but these are the permanent remains of the
peculiar treatment which they pursue for the headache, and which, with
them, seems to be effectual.
The character of the women is, on the whole, good, as they are decent
and well-conducted, and, for savages, tidy, though scarcely clean in
their persons. They will sometimes accompany their husbands on the
march, and have a weakness for smoking all the time that they walk.
They carry their children on their backs, a stool or two and other
implements on their heads, and yet contrive to act as cooks as soon as
they halt, preparing some savory dish of herbs for their husbands. They
have a really wonderful practical knowledge of botany, and a Weezee
will live in comfort where a man from another tribe would starve.
Besides cooking, they also contrive to run up little huts made of
boughs, in shape like a reversed bell, and very tiny, but yet large
enough to afford shelter during sleep.
The houses of the Weezee are mostly of that mud-walled, flat-topped
kind which is called “tembe,” though some are shaped like haystacks,
and they are built with considerable care. Some, of these have the roof
extending beyond the walls, so as to form a verandah like that of a
Bechuana house; and the villages are surrounded with a strong fence.
The door is very small, and only allows one person to pass at a time.
It is made of boards, and can be lifted to allow ingress and egress.
Some of the stakes above and at the side of the door are decorated with
blocks of wood on their tops; and some of the chiefs are in the habit
of fixing on the posts the skulls of those whom they have put to death,
just as in former years the heads of traitors were fixed over Temple
Bar. The architecture of the Weezee is illustrated on page 387.
Some of the villages may lay claim to the title of fortified towns,
so elaborately are they constructed. The palisading which surrounds
them is very high and strong, and defended in a most artistic manner,
first by a covered way, then a quickset hedge of euphorbia, and,
lastly, a broad dry ditch, or moat. Occasionally the wall is built out
in bastion-fashion, so as to give a good flanking fire. Within the
valleys the houses extend to the right and left of the entrances, and
are carefully railed off, so that the whole structure is really a very
strong one in a military point of view.
They are a tolerably polite race, and have a complete code of etiquette
for receiving persons, whether friends or strangers. If a chief
receives another chief, he gets up quite a ceremony, assembling all the
people of the village with their drums and other musical instruments,
and causing them to honor the coming guest with a dance, and as much
noise as can be extracted out of their meagre band. If they have
fire-arms, they will discharge them as long as their powder lasts; and,
if not, they content themselves with their voices, which are naturally
loud, the drums, and any other musical instrument that they may possess.
But, whatever may be used, the drum is a necessity in these parts, and
is indispensable to a proper welcome. Even when the guest takes his
leave, the drum is an essential accompaniment of his departure; and,
accordingly, “beating the drum” is a phrase which is frequently used to
signify departure from a place. For example, if a traveller is passing
through a district, and is bargaining with the chief for the “hongo”
which he has to pay, the latter will often threaten that, unless he is
paid his demands in full, he will not “beat the drum,” _i. e._ will
not permit the traveller to pass on. So well is this known, that the
porters do not take up their burdens until they hear the welcome sound
of the drum. This instrument often calls to war, and, in fact, can be
made to tell its story as completely as the bugle of European armies.
When ordinary men meet their chief, they bow themselves and clap
their hands twice, and the women salute him by making a courtesy as
well as any lady at court. This, however, is an obeisance which is
only vouchsafed to very great chiefs, the petty chiefs, or headmen of
villages, having to content themselves with the simple clapping of
hands. If two women of unequal rank meet, the inferior drops on one
knee, and bows her head; the superior lays one hand on the shoulder of
the other; and they remain in this position for a few moments, while
they mutter some words in an undertone. They then rise and talk freely.
To judge from Captain Grant’s account of the great chief Ugalee (_i.
e._ Stirabout), who was considered a singularly favorable specimen of
the sultans, as these great chiefs are called, the deference paid to
them is given to the office, and not to the individual who holds it.
Ugalee, who was the finest specimen that had been seen, was supposed to
be a clever man, though he did not know his own age, nor could count
above ten, nor had any names for the day of the week, the month, or the
year.
“After we had been about a month in his district, Sultan Ugalee arrived
at Mineenga on the 21st of April, and was saluted by file-firing from
our volunteers and shrill cries from the women. He visited us in the
verandah the day following. He looks about twenty-two years of age;
has three children and thirty wives; is six feet high, stout, with a
stupid, heavy expression. His bare head is in tassels, hanks of fibre
being mixed in with the hair. His body is loosely wrapped round with a
blue and yellow cotton cloth, his loins are covered with a dirty bit
of oily calico, and his feet are large and naked. A monster ivory ring
is on his left wrist, while the right one bears a copper ring of rope
pattern; several hundreds of wire rings are massed round his ankles.
“He was asked to be seated on one of our iron stools, but looked at
first frightened, and did not open his mouth. An old man spoke for
him, and a crowd of thirty followers squatted behind him. Speke, to
amuse him, produced his six-barrelled revolver, but he merely eyed it
intently. The book of birds and animals, on being shown to him upside
down by Sirboko, the headman of the village, drew from him a sickly
smile, and he was pleased to imply that he preferred the animals to
the birds. He received some snuff in the palm of his hand, took a good
pinch, and gave the rest to his spokesman.
“He wished to look at my mosquito-curtained bed, and in moving away was
invited to dine with us. We sent him a message at seven o’clock that
the feast was prepared, but a reply came that he was full, and could
not be tempted even with a glass of rum. The following day he came to
bid us good-by, and left without any exchange of presents, being thus
very different from the grasping race of Ugogo.”
It has been mentioned that the Wanyamuezi act as traders, and go to
great distances, and there is even a separate mode of greeting by
which a wife welcomes her husband back from his travels. The engraving
No. 1, on the next page, illustrates this wifely welcome. As soon as
she hears that her husband is about to arrive home after his journey
to the coast, she puts on all her ornaments, decorates herself with
a feathered cap, gathers her friends round her, and proceeds to the
hut of the chiefs principal wife, before whose door they all dance
and sing. Dancing and singing are with them, as with other tribes,
their chief amusement. There was a blind man who was remarkable for
his powers of song, being able to send his voice to a considerable
distance with a sort of ventriloquial effect. He was extremely popular,
and in the evenings the chief himself would form one of the audience,
and join in the chorus with which his song was accompanied. They have
several national airs which, according to Captains Speke and Grant, are
really fine.
Inside each village there is club-house or “Iwansa,” as it is called.
This is a structure much larger than those which are used for
dwelling-houses, and is built in a different manner. One of these
iwansas, which was visited by Captain Grant, “was a long, low room,
twelve by eighteen feet, with one door, a low flat roof, well blackened
with smoke, and no chimney. Along its length there ran a high inclined
bench, on which cow-skins were spread for men to take their seats. Some
huge drums were hung in one corner, and logs smouldered on the floor.
“Into this place strangers are ushered when they first enter the
village, and here they reside until a house can be appropriated to
them. Here the young men all gather at the close of day to hear the
news, and join in that interminable talk which seems one of the chief
joys of a native African. Here they perform kindly offices to each
other, such as pulling out the hairs of the eyelashes and eyebrows with
their curious little tweezers, chipping the teeth into the correct
form, and marking on the cheeks and temples the peculiar marks which
designate the clan to which they belong.”
These tweezers are made of iron, most ingeniously flattened and bent so
as to give the required elasticity.
Smoking and drinking also go on largely in the iwansa, and here the
youths indulge in various games. One of these games is exactly similar
to one which has been introduced into England. Each player has a stump
of Indian corn, cut short, which he stands on the ground in front of
him. A rude sort of teetotum is made of a gourd and a stick, and is
spun among the corn-stumps, the object of the game being to knock down
the stump belonging to the adversary. This is a favorite game, and
elicits much noisy laughter and applause, not only from the actual
players, but from the spectators who surround them.
In front of the iwansa the dances are conducted. They are similar
in some respects to those of the Damaras, as mentioned on page 313,
except that the performers stand in a line instead of in a circle. A
long strip of bark or cow-skin is laid on the ground, and the Weezees
arrange themselves along it, the tallest man always taking the place of
honor in the middle. When they have arranged themselves, the drummers
strike up their noisy instruments, and the dancers begin a strange
chant, which is more like a howl than a song. They all bow their heads
low, put their hands on their hips, stamp vigorously, and are pleased
to think that they are dancing. The male spectators stand in front and
encourage their friends by joining in the chorus, while the women stand
behind and look on silently. Each dance ends with a general shout of
laughter or applause, and then a fresh set of dancers take their place
on the strip of skin.
[Illustration: (1.) THE HUSBAND’S WELCOME. (See page 390.)]
[Illustration: (2.) DRINKING POMBÉ. (See page 394.)]
Sometimes a variety is introduced into their dances. On one occasion
the chief had a number of bowls filled with pombé and set in a row. The
people took their grass bowls and filled them again and again from the
jars, the chief setting the example, and drinking more pombé than any
of his subjects. When the bowls had circulated plentifully, a couple of
lads leaped into the circle, presenting a most fantastic appearance.
They had tied zebra manes over their heads, and had furnished
themselves with two long bark tubes like huge bassoons, into which they
blew with all their might, accompanying their shouts with extravagant
contortions of the limbs. As soon as the pombé was all gone, five drums
were hung in a line upon a horizontal bar, and the performer began to
hammer them furiously. Inspired by the sounds, men, women, and children
began to sing and clap their hands in time, and all danced for several
hours.
“The Weezee boys are amusing little fellows, and have quite a talent
for games. Of course they imitate the pursuits of their fathers, such
as shooting with small bows and arrows, jumping over sticks at various
heights, pretending to shoot game, and other amusements. Some of the
elder lads converted their play into reality, by making their bows and
arrows large enough to kill the pigeons and other birds which flew
about them. They also make very creditable imitations of the white
man’s gun, tying two pieces of cane together for the barrels, modelling
the stock, hammer, and trigger-guard out of clay, and imitating the
smoke by tufts of cotton wool. That they were kind-hearted boys is
evident from the fact that they had tame birds in cages, and spent much
time in teaching them to sing.”
From the above description it may be inferred that the Weezees are a
lively race, and such indeed is the fact. To the traveller they are
amusing companions, singing their “jolliest of songs, with deep-toned
choruses, from their thick necks and throats.” But they require to be
very carefully managed, being independent as knowing their own value,
and apt to go on, or halt, or encamp just when it happens to suit them.
Moreover, as they are not a cleanly race, and are sociably fond of
making their evening fire close by and to windward of the traveller’s
tent, they are often much too near to be agreeable, especially as they
always decline to move from the spot on which they have established
themselves.
Still they are simply invaluable on the march, for they are good
porters, can always manage to make themselves happy, and do not become
homesick, as is the case with men of other tribes. Moreover, from
their locomotive habits, they are excellent guides, and they are most
useful assistants in hunting, detecting, and following up the spoor of
an animal with unerring certainty. They are rather too apt to steal
the flesh of the animal when it is killed, and quite sure to steal the
fat, but, as in nine cases out of ten it would not have been killed at
all without their help, they may be pardoned for these acts of petty
larceny. They never seem at a loss for anything, but have a singular
power of supplying themselves out of the most unexpected materials.
For example, if a Wanyamuezi wants to smoke, and has no pipe, he makes
a pipe in a minute or two from the nearest tree. All he has to do is
to cut a green twig, strip the bark off it as boys do when they make
willow whistles, push a plug of clay into it, and bore a hole through
the clay with a smaller twig or a grass-blade.
Both sexes are inveterate smokers, and, as they grow their own tobacco,
they can gratify this taste to their hearts’ content. For smoking, they
generally use their home-cured tobacco, which they twist up into a
thick rope like a hayband, and then coil into a flattened spiral like
a small target. Sometimes they make it into sugar-loaf shape. Imported
tobacco they employ as snuff, grinding it to powder if it should be
given to them in a solid form, or pushing it into their nostrils if it
should be in a cut state, like “bird’s-eye” or “returns.”
The amusements of the Weezees are tolerably numerous. Besides those
which have been mentioned, the lads are fond of a mimic fight, using
the stalks of maize instead of spears, and making for themselves
shields of bark. Except that the Weezee lads are on foot, instead of
being mounted, this game is almost exactly like the “djerid” of the
Turks, and is quite as likely to inflict painful, if not dangerous,
injuries on the careless or unskilful.
Then, for more sedentary people, there are several games of chance and
others of skill. The game of chance is the time-honored “pitch and
toss,” which is played as eagerly here as in England. It is true that
the Weezee have no halfpence, but they can always cut discs out of
bark, and bet upon the rough or smooth side turning uppermost. They are
very fond of this game, and will stake their most valued possessions,
such as “sambo” rings, bows, arrows, spear-heads, and the like.
The chief game of skill has probably reached them through the
Mohammedan traders, as it is almost identical with a game long familiar
to the Turks. It is called Bao, and is played with a board on which are
thirty-two holes or cups, and with sixty-four seeds by way of counters.
Should two players meet and neither possess a board, nor the proper
seeds, nothing is easier than to sit down, scrape thirty-two holes
in the ground, select sixty-four stones, and then begin to play. The
reader may perhaps call to mind the old English game of Merelles, or
Nine-men’s Morris, which can be played on an extemporized board cut in
the turf, and with stones instead of counters.
The most inveterate gamblers were the lifeguards of the sultan, some
twenty in number. They were not agreeable personages, being offensively
supercilious in their manner, and flatly refusing to do a stroke of
work. The extent of their duty lay in escorting their chief from
one place to another, and conveying his orders from one village to
another. The rest of their time was spent in gambling, drum-beating,
and similar amusements; and, if they distinguished themselves in any
other way, it was by the care which they bestowed on their dress. Some
of these lifeguards were very skilful in beating the drum, and, when
a number were performing on a row of suspended drums, the principal
drummer always took the largest instrument, and was the conductor of
the others, just as in a society of bellringers the chief of them takes
the tenor bell. For any one, except a native, to sleep in a Weezee
village while the drums are sounding is perfectly impossible, but when
they have ceased the place is quiet enough, as may be seen by Captain
Grant’s description of a night scene in Wanyamuezi.
“In a Weezee village there are few sounds to disturb one’s night’s
rest: the traveller’s horn, and the reply to it from a neighboring
village, are accidental alarms; the chirping of crickets, and the cry
from a sick child, however, occasionally broke upon the stillness of
one’s night. Waking early, the first sounds we heard were the crowing
of cocks, the impatient lowing of cows, the bleating of calves, and the
chirping of sparrows and other unmusical birds. The pestle and mortar
shelling corn would soon after be heard, or the cooing of wild pigeons
in the grove of palms.
“The huts were shaped like corn-stacks, supported by bare poles,
fifteen feet high, and fifteen to eighteen feet in diameter. Sometimes
their grass roofs would be protected from sparks by ‘michans,’ or
frames of Indian corn-stalks. There were no carpets, and all was as
dark as the hold of a ship. A few earthern jars, made like the Indian
‘gurrah,’ for boiling vegetables or stirabout, tattered skins, an
old bow and arrow, some cups of grass, some gourds, perhaps a stool,
constitute the whole of the furniture. Grain was housed in hard boxes
of bark, and goats or calves had free access over the house.”
Their customs in eating and drinking are rather remarkable. Perhaps we
ought to transfer those terms, drinking holding the first place in the
mind of a Weezee. The only drink which he cares about is the native
beer or “pombé,” and many of the natives live almost entirely on pombé,
taking scarcely any solid nourishment whatever. Pombé making is the
work of the women, who brew large quantities at a time. Not being able
to build a large tank in which the water can be heated to the boiling
point, the pombé maker takes a number of earthen pots and places them
in a double row, with an interval of eighteen inches or so between the
rows. This intermediate space is filled with wood, which is lighted,
and the fire tended until the beer is boiled simultaneously in both
rows of pots. Five days are required for completing the brewing.
The Sultan Ukulima was very fond of pombé, and, indeed, lived
principally upon it. He used to begin with a bowl of his favorite
beverage, and continue drinking it at intervals until he went to his
tiny sleeping-hut for the night. Though he was half stupefied during
the day, he did not suffer in health, but was a fine, sturdy, hale
old man, pleasant enough in manner, and rather amusing when his head
happened to be clear. He was rather fond of a practical joke, and
sometimes amused himself by begging some quinine, mixing it slyly
with pombé, and then enjoying the consternation which appeared on the
countenances of those who partook of the bitter draught.
Every morning he used to go round to the different houses, timing his
visits so as to appear when the brewing was finished. He always partook
of the first bowl of beer, and then went on to another house and drank
more pombé, which he sometimes sucked through a reed in sherry-cobbler
fashion. (See page 391.) Men and women seldom drink in company; the
latter assembling together under the presidency of the sultana, or
chief wife, and drinking in company.
As to food, regular meals seem to be almost unknown among the men,
who “drop in” at their friends’ houses, taking a small potato at one
place, a bowl of pombé at another, and, on rare occasions, a little
beef. Indeed, Captain Grant says that he seldom saw men at their meals,
unless they were assembled for pombé drinking. Women, however, who eat,
as they drink, by themselves, are more regular in their meals, and at
stated times have their food prepared.
The grain from which the pombé is made is cultivated by the women, who
undertake most, though not all, of its preparation. When it is green,
they reap it by cutting off the ears with a knife, just as was done by
the Egyptians of ancient times. They then carry the ears in baskets to
the village, empty them out upon the ground, and spread them in the
sunbeams until they are thoroughly dried. The men then thresh out the
grain with curious flails, looking like rackets, with handles eight or
nine feet in length.
When threshed, it is stored away in various fashions. Sometimes it is
made into a miniature corn-rick placed on legs, like the “staddles” of
our own farmyards. Sometimes a pole is stuck into the earth, and the
corn is bound round it at some distance from the ground, so that it
resembles an angler’s float of gigantic dimensions. The oddest, though
perhaps the safest, way of packing grain, is to tie it up in a bundle,
and hang it to the branch of a tree. When wanted for use, it is pounded
in a wooden mortar like those of the Ovambo tribe, in order to beat off
the husk, and finally it is ground between two stones. A harvest scene,
illustrating these various operations, is given on the 397th page.
The Wanyamuezi are not a very superstitious people,--at all events they
are not such slaves to superstition as many other tribes. As far as
is known, they have no idols, but then they have no religious system,
except perhaps a fear of evil spirits, and a belief that such spirits
can be exorcised by qualified wizards. A good account of one of these
exorcisms is given by Captain Grant.
“The sultan sits at the doorway of his hut, which is decorated with
lion’s paws.
“His daughter, the possessed, is opposite to him, completely hooded,
and guarded by two Watusi women, one on each side, holding a naked
spear erect. The sultana completes the circle. Pombé is spirted up in
the air so as to fall upon them all. A cow is then brought in with its
mouth tightly bound up, almost preventing the possibility of breathing,
and it is evident that the poor cow is to be the sacrifice.
“One spear-bearer gives the animal two gentle taps with a hatchet
between the horns, and she is followed by the woman with the evil
spirit and by a second spear-bearer, who also tap the cow. A man now
steps forward, and with the same hatchet kills the cow by a blow behind
the horns. The blood is all caught in a tray (a Kaffir custom), and
placed at the feet of the possessed, after which a spear-bearer puts
spots of the blood on the woman’s forehead, on the root of the neck,
the palms of the hands, and the instep of the feet. He spots the other
spear-bearers in the same manner, and the tray is then taken by another
man, who spots the sultan, his kindred, and household.
“Again the tray is carried to the feet of the possessed, and she
spots with the blood her little son and nephews, who kneel to receive
it. Sisters and female relatives come next to be anointed by her,
and it is pleasant to see those dearest to her pressing forward with
congratulations and wishes. She then rises from her seat, uttering
a sort of whining cry, and walks off to the house of the sultana,
preceded and followed by spear-bearers. During the day she walks
about the village, still hooded, and attended by several followers
shaking gourds containing grain, and singing ‘Heigh-ho, massa-a-no,’
or ‘masanga.’ An old woman is appointed to wrestle with her for a
broomstick which she carries, and finally the stick is left in her hand.
“Late in the afternoon a change is wrought; she appears as in ordinary,
but with her face curiously painted in the same way. She sits without
smiling to receive offerings of grain, with beads or anklets placed on
twigs of the broomstick, which she holds upright; and, this over, she
walks among the women, who shout out, ‘Gnombe!’ (cow), or some other
ridiculous expression to create a laugh. This winds up the ceremony
on the first day, but two days afterward the now emancipated woman is
seen parading about with the broomstick hung with beads and rings, and
looking herself again, being completely cured. The vanquished spirit
had been forced to fly!”
Like many other African tribes, the Weezees fully believe that when a
person is ill witchcraft must have been the cause of the malady, and
once, when Captain Grant was in their country, a man who used to sell
fish to him died suddenly. His wife was at once accused of murdering
him by poison (which is thought to be a branch of sorcery), was tried,
convicted, and killed. The truth of the verdict was confirmed by the
fact that the hyænas did not touch the body after death.
They have all kinds of odd superstitions about animals. Captain
Grant had shot an antelope, which was quite new to him, and which
was therefore a great prize. With the unwilling aid of his assistant
he carried it as far as the village, but there the man laid it down,
declining to carry it within the walls on the plea that it was a
dangerous animal, and must not be brought to the houses. The Sultan
Ukalima was then asked to have it brought in, but the man, usually so
mild, flew at once into a towering rage, and would not even allow a
piece of the skin to be brought within the village. He said that if
its flesh were eaten it would cause the fingers and toes to fall off,
and that if its saliva touched the skin an ulcer would be the result.
Consequently, the skin was lost, and only a sketch preserved. These
ideas about the “bawala,” as this antelope was called, did not seem to
have extended very far; for, while the body was still lying outside the
walls, a party of another tribe came up, and were very glad to cook it
and eat it on the spot.
All lions and lynxes are the property of the sultan. No one may wear
the lion skin except himself, and he decorates his dwelling with the
paws and other spoils. This may be expected, as the lion skin is
considered as an emblem of royalty in other lands beside Africa. But
there is a curious superstition about the lion, which prohibits any
one from walking round its body, or even its skin. One day, when a
lion had been killed, and its body brought into the village, Captain
Grant measured it, and was straightway assailed by the chief priest of
the place for breaking the law in walking round the animal while he
was measuring it. He gave as his reason that there was a spell laid
on the lions which kept them from entering the villages, and that the
act of walking round the animal broke the spell. He said, however,
that a payment of four cloths to him would restore the efficacy of the
spell, and then he would not tell the sultan. Captain Grant contrived
to extricate himself very ingeniously by arguing that the action which
broke the spell was not walking round the body, but stepping over it,
and that he had been careful to avoid. After sundry odd ceremonies have
been performed over the dead body of the lion, the flesh, which is by
that time half putrid, is boiled by the sultan in person, the fat is
skimmed off, and preserved as a valued medicine, and the skin dressed
for regal wear.
The Wanyamuezi have a way of “making brotherhood,” similar to that
which has already been described, except that instead of drinking each
other’s blood, the newly-made brothers mix it with butter on a leaf
and exchange leaves. The butter is then rubbed into the incisions, so
that it acts as a healing ointment at the same time that the blood is
exchanged. The ceremony is concluded by tearing the leaves to pieces
and showering the fragments on the heads of the brothers.
The travellers happened to be in the country just in time to see a
curious mourning ceremony. There was a tremendous commotion in the
chiefs “tembe,” and on inquiry it turned out that twins had been born
to one of his wives, but that they were both dead. All the women
belonging to his household marched about in procession, painted and
adorned in a very grotesque manner, singing and dancing with strange
gesticulations of arms and legs, and looking, indeed, as if they had
been indulging in pombé rather than afflicted by grief. This went on
all day, and in the evening they collected a great bundle of bulrushes,
tied it up in a cloth, and carried it to the door of the mother’s hut,
just as if it had been the dead body of a man. They then set it down on
the ground, stuck a quantity of the rushes into the earth, at each side
of the door, knelt down, and began a long shrieking wail, which lasted
for several hours together.
[Illustration: (1.) HARVEST SCENE. (See page 395.)]
[Illustration: (2.) SALUTATION. (See page 409.)]
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
KARAGUE.
LOCALITY OF KARAGUE -- DISTINCT CLASSES OF THE INHABITANTS -- THEIR
GENERAL CHARACTER -- MODE OF SALUTATION -- THE RULING CASTE, OR
WAHUMA, AND THE ROYAL CASTE, OR MOHEENDA -- LAW OF SUCCESSION --
THE SULTAN RUMANIKA AND HIS FAMILY -- PLANTAIN WINE -- HOW RUMANIKA
GAINED THE THRONE -- OBSEQUIES OF HIS FATHER -- NEW-MOON CEREMONIES
-- TWO ROYAL PROPHETS -- THE MAGIC HORNS -- MARRIAGE -- EASY LOT OF
THE WAHUMA WOMEN -- WIFE-FATTENING -- AN ODD USE OF OBESITY -- DRESS
OF THE WOMEN -- MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS -- RUMANIKA’S PRIVATE BAND --
FUNERAL CUSTOMS.
Passing by a number of tribes of more or less importance, we come to
the country called KARAGUE (pronounced Kah-rah-góo-eh), which occupies
a district about lat. 3° S. and long. 31° E. The people of this
district are divided into two distinct classes,--namely, the reigning
race, or Wahuma, and the peasantry, or Wanyambo. These latter were the
original inhabitants of the land, but were dispossessed by the Wahuma,
who have turned them into slaves and tillers of the ground. Among
the Wahuma there is another distinction,--namely, a royal caste, or
Moheenda.
As to the Wanyambo, although they are reduced to the condition of
peasants, and have been compared to the ryots of India, they seem
to preserve their self-respect, and have a kind of government among
themselves, the country being divided into districts, each of which has
its own governor. These men are called Wakungo, and are distinguished
by a sort of uniform, consisting of a sheet of calico or a scarlet
blanket in addition to the ordinary dress.
They are an excitable and rather quarrelsome people, and are quite
capable of taking their own parts, even against the Weezees, with whom
they occasionally quarrel. They do not carry their weapons continually,
like the Wagogo and the Weezees, contenting themselves with a stick
about five feet long, with a knob at the end, without which they are
seldom to be seen, and which is not only used as a weapon, but is
employed in greeting a friend.
The mode of saluting another is to hold out the stick to the friend,
who touches the knobbed end with his hand, and repeats a few words of
salutation. Yet, although they do not habitually carry weapons, they
are very well armed, their bows being exceedingly powerful and elastic,
more than six feet in length, and projecting a spear-headed arrow to a
great distance. Spears are also employed, but the familiar weapon is
the bow. A bow belonging to M’nanagee, the brother of Rumanika, the
then head chief or “sultan” of Karague, was a beautiful specimen of
native workmanship. It was six feet three inches in length, _i. e._
exactly the height of the owner, and was so carefully made that there
was not a curve in it that could offend the eye. The string was twisted
from the sinews of a cow, and the owner could project an arrow some two
hundred yards. The wood of which it was made looked very like our own
ash.
The Wanyambo were very polite to Captain Grant, taking great care of
him, and advising him how to preserve his health, thus affording a
practical refutation of the alarming stories respecting their treachery
and ferocity of which he had been told when determining to pass
through their country. The Wanyambo are obliged to furnish provisions
to travellers free of charge, but, although they obey the letter
of the law, they always expect a present of brass wire in lieu of
payment. They are slenderly built, very dark in complexion, and grease
themselves abundantly. They do not, however, possess such an evil odor
as other grease-using tribes, as, after they have anointed themselves,
they light a fire of aromatic wood, and stand to leeward of it, so as
to allow the perfumed smoke to pass over them.
The Wahuma are of much lighter complexion, and the royal caste, or
Moheenda, are remarkable for their bronze-like complexions, their
well-cut features, and their curiously long heads. The members of this
caste are further marked by some scars under the eyes, and their teeth
are neither filed nor chipped. There is rather a curious law about the
succession to the throne. As with us, the king’s eldest son is the
acknowledged heir, but then he must have been born when his father was
actually king. Consequently, the youngest of a family of brothers is
sometimes the heir to the throne, his elder brothers, having been born
before their father was king, being ineligible to the crown.
According to Captain Speke, the Wahuma, the Gallas, and the Abyssinians
are but different branches of the same people, having fought and been
beaten, and retired, and so made their way westward and southward,
until they settled down in the country which was then inhabited by
the Wanyambo. Still, although he thinks them to have derived their
source from Abyssinia, and to have spread themselves over the whole of
the country on which we are now engaged, he mentions that they always
accommodated themselves to the manners and customs of the natives
whom they supplanted, and that the Gallas or Wahuma of Karague have
different customs from the Wahuma of Unyoro.
The king or sultan of Karague, at the time when our travellers passed
through the country, was Rumanika. He was the handsomest and most
intelligent ruler that they met in Africa, and had nothing of the
African in his appearance except that his hair was short and woolly. He
was six feet two inches in height, and had a peculiarly mild and open
expression of countenance. He wore a robe made of small antelope skins,
and another of bark cloth, so that he was completely covered. He never
wore any headdress, but had the usual metallic armlets and anklets,
and always carried a long staff in his hand. His four sons appear to
have been worthy of their father. The oldest and youngest seem to have
been peculiarly favorable specimens of their race. The eldest, named
Chunderah, was twenty-five years old, and very fair, so that, but for
his woolly hair and his rather thick lips, he might have been taken for
a sepoy. “He affected the dandy, being more neat about his lion-skin
covers and ornaments than the other brothers. He led a gay life,
was always ready to lead a war party, and to preside at a dance, or
wherever there was wine and women.
“From the tuft of wool left unshaven on the crown of his head to his
waist he was bare, except when decorated round the muscle of the arms
and neck with charmed horns, strips of otter skin, shells, and bands
of wood. The skin covering, which in the Karague people is peculiar in
shape, reaches below the knee behind, and is cut away in front. From
below the calf to the ankle was a mass of iron wire, and, when visiting
from neighbor to neighbor, he always, like every Karague, carried in
his hand a five-feet staff with a knob at the end. He constantly came
to ask after me, bringing flowers in his hand, as he knew my fondness
for them, and at night he would take Frij, my headman, into the palace,
along with his ‘zeze,’ or guitar, to amuse his sisters with Zanzibar
music. In turn, the sisters, brothers, and followers would sing Karague
music, and early in the morning Master Frij and Chunderah would return
rather jolly to their huts outside the palace enclosure. This shows the
kindly feeling existing between us and the family of the sultan; and,
although this young prince had showed me many attentions, he never once
asked me for a present.”
The second son, who was by a different mother, was not so agreeable.
His disposition was not bad, but he was stupid and slow, and anything
but handsome. The youngest of the four, named Kukoko, seemed to have
become a general favorite, and was clearly the pet of his father, who
never went anywhere without him. He was so mild and pleasant in his
manner, that the travellers presented him with a pair of white kid
gloves, and, after much trouble in coaxing them on his unaccustomed
fingers, were much amused by the young man’s added dignity with which
he walked away.
Contrary to the usual African custom, Rumanika was singularly
abstemious, living almost entirely upon milk, and merely sucking the
juice of boiled beef, without eating the meat itself. He scarcely
ever touched the plantain wine or beer, that is in such general use
throughout the country, and never had been known to be intoxicated.
This wine or beer is made in a very ingenious manner. A large log of
wood is hollowed out so as to form a tub, and it seems essential that
it should be of considerable size. One end of it is raised upon a
support, and a sort of barrier or dam of dried grass is fixed across
the centre. Ripe plantains are then placed in the upper division of the
tub, and mashed by the women’s feet and hands until they are reduced
to a pulp. The juice flows down the inclined tub, straining itself by
passing through the grass barrier. When a sufficient quantity has been
pressed, it is strained several times backward and forward, and is
then passed into a clean tub for fermentation. Some burnt sorghum is
then bruised and thrown into the juice to help fermentation, and the
tub is then covered up and placed in the sun’s rays, or kept warm by a
fire. In the course of three days the brewing process is supposed to be
completed, and the beer or wine is poured off into calabashes.
The amount of this wine that is drunk by the natives is really amazing,
every one carrying about with him a calabash full of it, and even the
youngest children of the peasants drinking it freely. It is never
bottled for preservation, and, in fact, it is in such request that
scarcely a calabash full can be found within two or three days after
the brewing is completed. This inordinate fondness for plantain wine
makes Rumanika’s abstinence the more remarkable.
But Rumanika was really a wonderful man in his way, and was not only
king, but priest and prophet also. His very elevation to the throne
was, according to the account given by him and his friends, entirely
due to supernatural aid. When his father, Dagara, died, he and two
brothers claimed the throne. In order to settle their pretensions a
small magic drum was laid before them, and he who could lift it was
to take the crown. The drum was a very small one, and of scarcely any
weight, but upon it were laid certain potent charms. The consequence
was, that although his brothers put all their strength to the task,
they could not stir the drum, while Rumanika raised it easily with
his little finger. Ever afterward he carried this drum with him on
occasions of ceremony, swinging it about to show how easy it was for
the rightful sovereign to wield it. Being dissatisfied with such
a test, one of the chiefs insisted on Rumanika’s trial by another
ordeal. He was then brought into a sacred spot, where he was required
to seat himself on the ground, and await the result of the charms. If
he were really the appointed king, the portion of the ground on which
he was seated would rise up in the air until it reached the sky; but
if he were the wrong man, it would collapse, and dash him to pieces.
According to all accounts, his own included, Rumanika took his seat,
was raised up into the sky, and his legitimacy acknowledged.
Altogether, his family seem to have been noted for their supernatural
qualities. When his father, Dagara, died, his body was sewed up in
a cow-hide, put into a canoe, and set floating on the lake, where
it was allowed to decompose. Three maggots were then taken from the
canoe and given in charge of Rumanika, but as soon as they came into
his house one of them became a lion, another a leopard, and the third
was transformed into a stick. The body was then laid on the top of a
hill, a hut built over it, five girls and fifty cows put into it, and
the door blocked up and watched, so that the inmates gradually died of
starvation. The lion which issued from the corpse was supposed to be
an emblem of the peculiar character of the Karague country, which is
supposed to be guarded by lions from the attack of other tribes. It
was said that whenever Dagara heard that the enemy was marching into
his country, he used to call the lions together, send them against the
advancing force, and so defeat them by deputy.
In his character of high-priest, Rumanika was very imposing, especially
in his new-moon levee, which took place every month, for the purpose
of ascertaining the loyalty of his subjects. On the evening of the
new moon he clothes himself in his priestly garb, _i. e._ a quantity
of feathers nodding over his forehead, and fastened with a kind of
strap of beads. A huge white beard covers his chin and descends to his
breast, and is fastened to his face by a belt of beads. Having thus
prepared himself, he sits behind a screen, and waits for the ceremony
to begin.
This is a very curious one. Thirty or forty long drums are ranged on
the ground, just like a battery of so many mortars; on their heads a
white cross is painted. The drummers stand behind them, each with a
pair of sticks, and in front is their leader, who has a pair of small
drums slung to his neck. The leader first raises his right arm, and
then his left, the performers imitating him with exact precision. He
then brings down both sticks on the drums with a rapid roll, which
becomes louder and louder, until the noise is scarcely endurable.
This is continued at intervals for several hours, interspersed with
performances on smaller drums, and other musical instruments. The
various chiefs and officers next advance, in succession, leaping and
gesticulating, shouting expressions of devotion to their sovereign, and
invoking his vengeance on them should they ever fail in their loyalty.
As they finish their salutation they kneel successively before the
king, and hold out their knobbed sticks that he may touch them, and
then retire to make room for their successors in the ceremony. In order
to give added force to the whole proceeding, a horn is stuffed full
of magic powder, and placed in the centre, with its opening directed
toward the quarter from which danger is to be feared.
A younger brother of Rumanika, named M’nanagee, was even a greater
prophet and diviner than his royal brother, and was greatly respected
by the Wahuma in consequence of his supernatural powers. He had a
sacred stone on a hill, and might be seen daily walking to the spot for
the purpose of divination. He had also a number of elephant tusks which
he had stuffed with magic powder and placed in the enclosure, for the
purpose of a kind of religious worship.
M’nanagee was a tall and stately personage, skilled in the knowledge
of plants, and, strange to say, ready to impart his knowledge. As
insignia of his priestly office, he wore an abundance of charms. One
charm was fastened to the back of his shaven head, others hung from
his neck and arms, while some were tied to his knees, and even the end
of his walking stick contained a charm. He was always attended by his
page, a little fat boy, who carried his fly-flapper, and his master’s
pipe, the latter being of considerable length, and having a bowl of
enormous size. He had a full belief in the power of his magic horns,
and consulted them on almost every occasion of life. If any one were
ill, he asked their opinion as to the nature of the malady and the
best remedy for it. If he felt curious about a friend at a distance,
the magic horns gave him tidings of the absent one. If an attack were
intended on the country, the horns gave him warning of it, and, when
rightly invoked, they either averted the threatened attack, or gave
victory over their enemies.
The people have an implicit faith in the power of their charms, and
believe that they not only inspire courage, but render the person
invulnerable. Rumanika’s head magician, K’yengo, told Captain Speke
that the Watuta tribes had invested his village for six months; and,
when all the cattle and other provisions were eaten, they took the
village and killed all the inhabitants except himself. Him they could
not kill on account of the power of his charms, and, although they
struck at him with their spears as he lay on the ground, they could not
even wound him.
The Wahuma believe in the constant presence of departed souls, and that
they can exercise an influence for good or evil over those whom they
had known in life. So, if a field happens to be blighted, or the crop
does not look favorable, a gourd is laid on the path. All passengers
who see the gourd know its meaning, and set up a wailing cry to the
spirits to give a good crop to their surviving friends. In order to
propitiate the spirit of his father, Dagara, Rumanika used annually to
sacrifice a cow on his tomb, and was accustomed to lay corn and beer
near the grave, as offerings to his father’s spirit.
In Karague, marriage is little more than a species of barter, the
father receiving cows, sheep, slaves, and other property for his
daughter. But the transaction is not a final one, for if the bride
does not happen to approve of her husband, she can return the marriage
gifts and return to her father. There is but little ceremony in their
marriages, the principal one seeming to consist of tying up the bride
in a blackened skin, and carrying her in noisy procession to her
husband.
The Wahuma women lead an easy life compared with that of the South
African women, and indeed their chief object in life seems to be the
attainment of corpulence. Either the Wahuma women are specially
constituted, or the food which they eat is exceptionally nutritious,
for they attain dimensions that are almost incredible. For example,
Rumanika, though himself a slight and well-shaped man, had five wives
of enormous fatness. Three of them were unable to enter the door of an
ordinary hut, or to move about without being supported by a person on
either side. They are fed on boiled plantains and milk, and consume
vast quantities of the latter article, eating it all day long. Indeed,
they are fattened as systematically as turkeys, and are “crammed” with
an equal disregard of their feelings.
Captain Speke gives a very humorous account of his interview with
one of the women of rank, together with the measurements which she
permitted him to take:--
“After a long and amusing conversation with Rumanika in the morning, I
called on one of his sisters-in-law, married to an elder brother, who
was born before Dagara ascended the throne. She was another of these
victims of obesity, unable to stand except on all fours. I was desirous
to obtain a good view of her, and actually to measure her, and induced
her to give me facilities for doing so by offering in return to show
her a bit of my naked legs and arms. The bait took as I wished it, and,
after getting her to sidle and wriggle into the middle of the hut, I
did as I had promised, and then took her dimensions as noted.
“Round arm, one foot eleven inches. Chest, four feet four inches.
Thigh, two feet seven inches. Calf, one foot eight inches. Height,
five feet eight inches. All of these are exact except the height, and
I believe I could have obtained this more accurately if I could have
had her laid on the floor. But, knowing what difficulties I should have
to contend with in such a piece of engineering, I tried to get her
height by raising her up. This, after infinite exertions on the part of
us both, was accomplished, when she sank down again fainting, for the
blood had rushed into her head.
“Meanwhile the daughter, a lass of sixteen, sat stark naked before us,
sucking at a milk-pot, on which the father kept her at work by holding
a rod in his hand: for, as fattening is the first duty of fashionable
female life, it must be duly enforced with the rod if necessary. I got
up a bit of a flirtation with missy, and induced her to rise and shake
hands with me. Her features were lovely, but her body was as round as a
ball.”
In one part of the country, the women turned their obesity to good
account. In exchanging food for beads, the usual bargain was that a
certain quantity of food should be paid for by a belt of beads that
would go round the waist. But the women of Karague were, on an average,
twice as large round the waist as those of other districts, and the
natural consequence was, that food practically rose one hundred per
cent in price.
[Illustration: RUMANIKA’S PRIVATE BAND. (See page 405.)]
Despite their exceeding fatness, their features retain much beauty,
the face being oval, and the eyes peculiarly fine and intelligent. The
higher class of women are very modest, not only wearing the cow-skin
petticoat, but also a large wrapper of black cloth, with which they
envelope their whole bodies, merely allowing one eye to be seen. Yet
up to the marriageable age no clothing of any kind is worn by either
sex, and both boys and girls will come up to the traveller and talk
familiarly with him, as unconscious of nudity as their first parents.
Until they are married they allow their hair to grow, and then shave
it off, sometimes entirely, and sometimes partially. They have an odd
habit of making caps of cane, which they cover on the outside with the
woolly hair shaved off their own heads.
Mention has been made of various musical instruments used in Karague.
The most important are the drums, which vary in size as much as they
do in England. That which corresponds to our side-drum is about four
feet in length and one in width, and is covered at the wide end with
an ichneumon skin. This instrument is slung from the shoulder, and is
played with the fingers like the Indian “tom-tom.” The large drums used
at the new-moon levee are of similar structure, but very much larger.
The war drum is beaten by the women, and at its sound the men rush to
arms and repair to the several quarters.
There are also several stringed instruments employed in Karague. The
principal of these is the nanga, a kind of guitar, which, according to
Captain Grant, may be called the national instrument. There are several
varieties of the nanga. “In one of these, played by an old woman, six
of the seven notes were a perfect scale, the seventh being the only
faulty string. In another, played by a man, three strings were a full
harmonious chord. These facts show that the people are capable of
cultivation. The nanga was formed of heavy dark wood, the shape of a
tray, twenty-two by nine inches, or thirty by eight, with three crosses
in the bottom, and laced with one string seven or eight times over
bridges at either end. Sometimes a gourd or sounding-board was tied to
the back.
“Prince M’nanagee, at my request, sent the best player he knew.
The man boldly entered without introduction, dressed in the usual
Wanyambo costume, and looked a wild, excited creature. After resting
his spear against the roof of the hut, he took a nanga from under
his arm, and commenced. As he sat upon a mat with his head averted,
he sang something of his having been sent to me, and of the favorite
dog Keeromba. The wild yet gentle music and words attracted a crowd
of admirers, who sang the dog-song for days afterward, as we had it
encored several times.
“Another player was an old woman, calling herself Keeleeamyagga. As she
played while standing in front of me, all the song she could produce
was ‘sh! sh!’ screwing her mouth, rolling her body, and raising her
feet from the ground. It was a miserable performance, and not repeated.”
There is another stringed instrument called the “zeze.” It differs
from the nanga in having only one string, and, like the nanga, is
used to accompany the voice in singing. Their wind instruments may be
called the flageolet and the bugle. The former has six finger holes;
and as the people walk along with a load on their heads, they play the
flageolet to lighten their journey, and really contrive to produce
sweet and musical tones from it. The so-called “bugle” is made of
several pieces of gourd, fitting into one another in telescope fashion,
and is covered with cow-skin. The notes of a common chord can be
produced on the bugle, the thumb acting as a key. It is about one foot
in length.
Rumanika had a special military band comprised of sixteen men, fourteen
of whom had bugles and the other two carried hand drums. They formed in
three ranks, the drummers being in the rear, and played on the march,
swaying their bodies in time to the music, and the leader advancing
with a curiously active step, in which he touched the ground with each
knee alternately. The illustration opposite will give the reader a good
idea of Rumanika’s private band.
The code of laws in Karague is rather severe in some cases, and
strangely mild in others. For example, theft is punished with the
stocks, in which the offender is sometimes kept for many months.
Assault with a stick entails a fine of ten goats, but if with a deadly
weapon, the whole of the property is forfeited, the injured party
taking one half, and the sultan the other. In cases of actual murder,
the culprit is executed, and his entire property goes to the relations
of the murdered man. The most curious law is that against adultery.
Should the offender be an ordinary wife, the loss of an ear is thought
to be sufficient penalty; but if she be a slave, or the daughter of the
sultan, both parties are liable to capital punishment.
When an inhabitant of Karague dies, his body is disposed of according
to his rank. Should he be one of the peasants, or Wanyambo, the body
is sunk in the water; but if he should belong to the higher caste, or
Wahuma, the corpse is buried on an island in the lake, all such islands
being considered as sacred ground. Near the spot whereon one of the
Wahuma has died, the relations place a symbolical mark, consisting of
two sticks tied to a stone, and laid across the pathway. The symbol
informs the passenger that the pathway is for the present sacred, and
in consequence he turns aside, and makes a _détour_ before he resumes
the pathway. The singular funeral of the sultan has already been
mentioned.
THE WAZARAMO AND WASAGARA.
Before proceeding to other African countries, it will be as well
to give a few lines to two other tribes, namely,--the Wazaramo and
the Wasagara. The country in which the former people live is called
Uzaramo, and is situated immediately southward of Zanzibar, being the
first district through which Captains Speke and Grant passed. It is
covered with villages, the houses of which are partly conical after
the ordinary African fashion, and partly gable-ended, according to
the architecture of the coast, the latter form being probably due to
the many traders who have come from different parts of the world.
The walls of the houses are “wattle and daub,” _i. e._ hurdle-work
plastered with clay, and the roofs are thatched with grass or reeds.
Over these villages are set headmen, called phanzes, who ordinarily
call themselves subjects of Said Majid, the Sultan of Zanzibar. But as
soon as a caravan passes through their country, each headman considers
himself as a sultan in his own right, and levies tolls from the
travellers. They never allow strangers to come into their villages,
differing in this respect from other tribes, who use their towns as
traps, into which the unwary traveller is induced to come, and from
which he does not escape without suffering severely in purse.
The people, although rather short and thick-set, are good-looking, and
very fond of dress, although their costume is but limited, consisting
only of a cloth tied round the waist. They are very fond of ornaments,
such as shells, pieces of tin, and beads, and rub their bodies with
red clay and oil until they look as if they were new cast in copper.
Their hair is woolly, and twisted into numerous tufts, each of which
is elongated by bark fibres. The men are very attentive to the women,
dressing their hair for them, or escorting them to the water, lest any
harm should befall them.
A wise traveller passes through Uzaramo as fast as he can, the natives
never furnishing guides, nor giving the least assistance, but being
always ready to pounce on him should he be weak, and to rob him by open
violence, instead of employing the more refined “hongo” system. They
seem to be a boisterous race, but are manageable by mixed gentleness
and determination. Even when they had drawn out their warriors in
battle array, and demanded in a menacing manner a larger hongo than
they ought to expect, Captain Speke found that gentle words would
always cause them to withdraw, and leave the matter to peaceful
arbitration. Should they come to blows, they are rather formidable
enemies, being well armed with spears and bows and arrows, the latter
being poisoned, and their weapons being always kept in the same state
of polish and neatness as their owners.
Some of these Phanzes are apt to be very troublesome to the traveller,
almost always demanding more than they expect to get, and generally
using threats as the simplest means of extortion. One of them, named
Khombé la Simba, or Lion’s-claw, was very troublesome, sending back
contemptuously the present that had been given him, and threatening
the direst vengeance if his demands were not complied with. Five miles
further inland, another Phanze, named Mukia ya Nyani, or Monkey’s-tail,
demanded another hongo; but, as the stores of the expedition would have
been soon exhausted at this rate, Captain Speke put an abrupt stop to
this extortion, giving the chiefs the option of taking what he chose
to give them, or fighting for it; and, as he took care to display his
armory and the marksmanship of his men, they thought it better to
comply rather than fight and get nothing.
Owing to the rapidity with which the travellers passed through this
inhospitable land, and the necessity for avoiding the natives as much
as possible, very little was learned of their manners and customs.
The Wazaramo would flock round the caravan for the purpose of barter,
and to inspect the strangers, but their ordinary life was spent in
their villages, which, as has been already mentioned, are never
entered by travellers. Nothing is known of their religion, though it
is possible that the many Mahometans who pass through their land may
have introduced some traces of their own religion, just as is the
case in Londa, where the religion is an odd mixture of idolatrous,
Mahometan, and Christian rites, with the meaning ingeniously excluded.
In fact they do not want to know the meaning of the rites, leaving
that to the priests, and being perfectly contented so long as the
witch-doctor performs his part. That the Wazaramo have at all events
a certain amount of superstition, is evident from the fact that they
erect little model huts as temples to the Spirit of Rain. Such a hut
or temple is called M’ganga. They also lay broken articles on graves,
and occasionally carve rude wooden dolls and fix them in the ground at
the end of the grave; but, as far as is known, they have no separate
burying-place.
THE WASAGARA TRIBE.
The second of these tribes, the WASAGARA, inhabits a large tract of
country, full a hundred miles in length, and is composed of a great
number of inferior or sub-tribes. Like other African nations, who
at one time were evidently great and powerful, the Wasagara have
become feeble and comparatively insignificant, though still numerous.
Being much persecuted by armed parties from the coast, who attack
and carry them off for slaves, besides stealing what property they
have, the Wasagara have mostly taken to the lofty conical mountains
that form such conspicuous objects in their country, and there are
tolerably safe. But, as they are thus obliged to reside in such limited
districts, they can do but little in agriculture, and they are afraid
to descend to the level ground in order to take part in the system of
commerce, which is so largely developed in this country. Their villages
are mostly built on the hill spurs, and they cultivate, as far as
they can, the fertile lands which lie between them. But the continual
inroads of inimical tribes, as well as those of the slave-dealers,
prevent the inhabitants from tilling more land than can just supply
their wants.
So utterly dispirited are they, that as soon as a caravan is seen by a
sentry, warning is given, and all the population flock to the hill-top,
where they scatter and hide themselves so completely that no slaving
party would waste its time by trying to catch them. Resistance is never
even thought of, and it is hardly possible to induce the Wasagara to
descend the hills until the caravan has passed. Consequently it is
scarcely possible to obtain a Wasagara as a guide through his country.
If, however, the traveller does succeed in so doing, he finds that
the man is trustworthy, lively, active, and altogether an amusing
companion. The men seem to be good hunters, displaying great skill in
discovering and tracking game. Owing to the precarious nature of their
lives, the Wasagara have but little dress, a small strip of cloth round
the waist being the ordinary costume.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE WATUSI AND WAGANDA.
LOCALITY OF THE WATUSI TRIBE -- MODE OF DRESS -- A WATUSI WOMAN
-- THEIR VALUE AS HERDSMEN -- SALUTATION -- WATUSI DANCING -- THE
WAGANDA -- ROAD SYSTEM OF UGANDA -- CODE OF ETIQUETTE -- DISREGARD
OF HUMAN LIFE -- CRUELTY -- THE WIFE-WHIP -- AN AFRICAN BLUEBEARD --
LIFE IN THE PALACE -- REVIEWING THE TROOPS -- ORIGIN OF THE WAGANDA
TRIBE -- KIMERA, AND HIS MODE OF GOVERNMENT -- SYSTEM OF ORGANIZATION
-- THE LAW OF SUCCESSION -- M’TESA, THE PRESENT KING, AND HIS COURT
-- THE ROYAL PALACE -- GENERAL ARCHITECTURE OF THE WAGANDA --
RECEPTION OF A GUEST -- THE ROYAL WALK -- A COUNCIL -- SUPERSTITIONS
-- THE WATER-SPIRIT AND HIS HIGH PRIEST -- RELIGION OF THE WAGANDA --
HUMAN SACRIFICES -- THE SLAVE-TRADE -- BURYING GROUNDS OF THE WAGANDA.
There is one tribe which, though small, has sufficient individuality to
deserve a brief notice. The WATUSI are a race of herdsmen, who live on
either side of the equator, and, according to Captain Grant, resemble
the Somalis in general appearance. They generally take service in the
households of wealthy persons, and devote themselves almost entirely to
the care of the cattle. They have plentiful and woolly hair, and the
men shave their beards with the exception of a crescent-shaped patch.
They have an odd fashion of staining their gums black, using for the
purpose a mixture of the tamarind seed calcined and powdered, and then
mixed with a salt of copper. The men carry their weapons when walking,
and seldom appear without a bow and arrows, a five-feet-long stick with
a knob at one end, and a pipe.
When they meet a friend, they hold out the knobbed end of the stick to
him; he touches it, and the demands of etiquette are supposed to be
fulfilled. This knobbed stick is quite an institution among the tribes
that have recently been mentioned, and a man seems to be quite unhappy
unless he has in his hand one of these curious implements. They are
fond of ornament, and wear multitudinous rings upon their wrists and
ankles, the latter being generally of iron and the former of brass.
They are a fine-looking race, and the women are equally remarkable in
this respect with the men,--a phenomenon rarely seen in this part of
the world. They are tall, erect, and well-featured, and, as a rule,
are decently clad in dressed cow-skins. The general appearance of the
Watusi women can be gathered from Captain Grant’s description.
“One morning, to my surprise, in a wild jungle we came upon cattle,
then upon a ‘bomah’ or ring fence, concealed by beautiful umbrageous
large trees, quite the place for a gipsy camp. At the entry two
strapping fellows met me and invited my approach. I mingled with the
people, got water from them, and was asked, ‘Would I prefer some milk?’
This sounded to me more civilized than I expected from Africans, so I
followed the men, who led me up to a beautiful lady-like creature, a
Watusi woman, sitting alone under a tree.
“She received me without any expression of surprise, in the most
dignified manner; and, after talking with the men, rose smiling,
showing great gentleness in her manner, and led me to her hut. I had
time to scrutinize the interesting stranger: she wore the usual Watusi
costume of a cow’s skin reversed, teased into a fringe with a needle,
colored brown, and wrapped round her body from below the chest to the
ankles. Lappets, showing zebra-like stripes of many colors, she wore
as a ‘turn-over’ round the waist, and, except where ornamented on one
arm with a highly polished coil of thick brass wire, two equally bright
and massive rings on the right wrist, and a neck pendant of brass
wire,--except these, and her becoming wrapper, she was _au naturelle_.
“I was struck with her peculiarly-formed head and graceful long neck;
the beauty of her fine eyes, mouth, and nose; the smallness of her
hands and naked feet--all were faultless; the only bad feature, which
is considered one of beauty with them, was her large ears. The arms and
elbows were rounded off like an egg, the shoulders were sloping, and
her small breasts were those of a crouching Venus--a perfect beauty,
though darker than a brunette.
“Her temporary residence was peculiar; it was formed of grass, was
flat-roofed, and so low that I could not stand upright in it. The
fireplace consisted of three stones; milk vessels of wood, shining
white from scouring, were ranged on one side of the abode. A
good-looking woman sat rocking a gourd between her knees in the process
of churning butter. After the fair one had examined my skin and my
clothes, I expressed great regret that I had no beads to present to
her. ‘They are not wanted,’ she said; ‘sit down, drink this buttermilk,
and here is also some butter for you.’ It was placed on a clean leaf. I
shook hands, patted her cheek, and took my leave, but some beads were
sent her, and she paid me a visit, bringing butter and buttermilk,
and asking for more presents, which she of course got, and I had the
gratification to see her eyes sparkle at the sight of them.
“This was one of the few women I met during our whole journey that I
admired. None of the belles in Usui could approach her; but they were
of a different caste, though dressing much in the same style. When
cow’s skins were not worn, these Usui women dressed very tidily in
bark cloths, and had no marks or cuttings observable on their bodies.
Circles of hair were often shaved off the crowns of their heads, and
their neck ornaments showed considerable taste in the selection of
the beads. The most becoming were a string of the M’zizama spheres of
marble-sized white porcelain, and triangular pieces of shell rounded at
the corners.
“An erect fair girl, daughter of a chief, paid us a visit, accompanied
by six maids, and sat silently for half an hour. She had a spiral
circle of wool shaved off the crown of her head; her only ornament was
a necklace of green beads; she wore the usual wrapper, and across her
shoulders a strip of scarlet cloth was thrown; her other fineries were
probably left at home. The women of the district generally had grace
and gentleness in their manner.”
Some of the women tattoo themselves on the shoulders and breasts in
rather a curious fashion, producing a pattern that looks in front like
point lace, and which then passes over the shoulders and comes on
the back down to the waist, like a pair of braces. A band of similar
markings runs round the waist.
The wages of the Watusi tribe for the management of the cattle are
simple enough. Half the milk is theirs, and as a cow in these regions
is singularly deficient in milk, producing a bare pint per diem, the
herdsmen have but small reward for their labor. They are very clever
at managing the animals placed under their control. If they have to
drive an unruly cow, they simply tie a cord to the hock of one of the
hind legs, and walk behind it holding the end of the cord. This very
simple process has the effect of subduing the cow, who yields as if to
a charm, and walks quietly in whatever direction she is told to go.
Goats are led by taking up one of the fore legs in the hand, when it is
found that the animal walks along quietly on three legs; the temporary
deprivation of the fourth limb being no particular impediment. Perhaps
on account of this mastery over the cattle, even the Wanyamuezi look
upon the Watusi with great respect. Should members of those tribes
meet, the Weezee presses the palms of his hands together, and the
Watusi gently clasps them in his own, muttering at the same time a few
words in a low tone of voice. If a Watusi man meets a woman of the same
tribe, she allows her arms to fall by her side, and he gently presses
her arms below the shoulders. For an illustration of this mode of
salutation, see the engraving No. 2 on page 397.
They are an industrious people, and make baskets with considerable
skill, using a sharp-pointed spear, and doing nearly as much of the
work with their feet as with their hands. They also work in metals,
and have a kind of bellows made of wood, with cane handles,--very
small, but efficient enough for the purpose. The dances with which
the Watusi amuse themselves in the evening are as simple and peaceful
as the dancers, and women take equal part with the men in them. They
array themselves in a circle, singing, and clapping hands in time.
Presently a woman passes into the ring, dances alone, and then, making
a graceful obeisance to some favorite in the ring, she retires backward
to her place. A young man then comes forward, goes through a number
of evolutions, bows to one of the girls, and then makes way for a
successor.
Captain Grant always speaks in the highest terms of the Watusi, whom
he designates as his favorite race. He states that they never will
permit themselves to be sold into slavery, but prefer death to such
dishonor. This people are always distinguishable by their intelligence
and the easy politeness of their manners. They are also remarkable for
their neatness and personal cleanliness, in which they present a strong
contrast to the neighboring tribes.
THE WAGANDA TRIBE.
Passing still northward, and keeping to the westward of the Victoria
N’yanza, we come to the UGANDA district, the inhabitants of which are
named WAGANDA.
This country is situated on the equator, and is a much more pleasant
land than might be supposed from its geographical position, being
fertile, and covered with vegetation. It is a peculiarly pleasant
land for a traveller, as it is covered with roads, which are not only
broad and firm, but are cut almost in a straight line from one point
to another. Uganda seems to be unique in the matter of roads, the
like of which are not to be found in any part of Africa, except those
districts which are held by Europeans. The roads are wide enough for
carriages, but far too steep in places for any wheeled conveyance; but
as the Waganda do not use carriages of any kind, the roads are amply
sufficient for their purposes. The Waganda have even built bridges
across swamps and rivers, but their knowledge of engineering has not
enabled them to build a bridge that would not decay in a few years.
Like many other tribes which bear, but do not deserve, the name of
savages, the Waganda possess a curiously strict code of etiquette,
which is so stringent on some points that an offender against it is
likely to lose his life, and is sure to incur a severe penalty. If, for
example, a man appears before the king with his dress tied carelessly,
or if he makes a mistake in the mode of saluting, or if, in squatting
before his sovereign, he allows the least portion of his limbs to be
visible, he is led off to instant execution. As the fatal sign is
given, the victim is seized by the royal pages, who wear a rope turban
round their heads, and at the same moment all the drums and other
instruments strike up, to drown his cries for mercy. He is rapidly
bound with the ropes snatched hastily from the heads of the pages,
dragged off, and put to death, no one daring to take the least notice
while the tragedy is being enacted.
They have also a code of sumptuary laws which is enforced with the
greatest severity. The skin of the serval, a kind of leopard cat, for
example, may only be worn by those of royal descent. Once Captain Speke
was visited by a very agreeable young man, who evidently intended to
strike awe into the white man, and wore round his neck the serval-skin
emblem of royal birth. The attempted deception, however, recoiled upon
its author, who suffered the fate of the daw with the borrowed plumes.
An officer of rank detected the imposture, had the young man seized,
and challenged him to show proofs of his right to wear the emblem of
royalty. As he failed to do so, he was threatened with being brought
before the king, and so compounded with the chief for a fine of a
hundred cows.
Heavy as the penalty was, the young man showed his wisdom by acceding
to it; for if he had been brought before the king, he would assuredly
have lost his life, and probably have been slowly tortured to death.
One punishment to which M’tesa, the king of Uganda, seems to have been
rather partial, was the gradual dismemberment of the criminal for the
sake of feeding his pet vultures; and although on some occasions he
orders them to be killed before they are dismembered, he sometimes
omits that precaution, and the wretched beings are slowly cut to pieces
with grass blades, as it is against etiquette to use knives for this
purpose.
The king alone has the privilege of wearing a cock’s-comb of hair on
the top of his head, the remainder being shaved off. This privilege is
sometimes extended to a favorite queen or two, so that actual royalty
may be at once recognized. Even the mode of sitting is carefully
regulated. Only the king is allowed to sit on a chair, all his subjects
being forced to place themselves on the ground. When Captains Speke
and Grant visited Uganda, there was a constant struggle on this point,
the travellers insisting on sitting in their arm-chairs, and the king
wanting them to sit on the ground. On one occasion, when walking with
M’tesa and his suite, a halt was ordered, and Captain Speke looked
about for something to sit upon. The king, seeing this, and being
determined not to be outdone, called a page, made him kneel on all
fours, and then sat on his back. The controversy at last ended in
a compromise, the travellers abandoning their chairs in the king’s
presence, but sitting on bundles of grass which were quite as high.
When an inferior presents any article to his superior, he always pats
and rubs it with his hands, and then strokes with it each side of
his face. This is done in order to show that no witchcraft has been
practised with it, as in such a case the intended evil would recoil on
the donor. This ceremony is well enough when employed with articles of
use or apparel; but when meat, plantains, or other articles of food are
rubbed with the dirty hands and well-greased face of the donor, the
recipient, if he should happen to be a white man, would be only too
happy to dispense with the ceremony, and run his risk of witchcraft.
[Illustration: ARREST OF THE QUEEN. (See page 413.)]
The officers of the court are required to shave off all their hair
except a single cockade at the back of the head, while the pages are
distinguished by two cockades, one over each temple, so that, even if
they happen to be without their rope turbans, their rank and authority
are at once indicated. When the king sends the pages on a message, a
most picturesque sight is presented. All the commands of the king have
to be done at full speed, and when ten or a dozen pages start off in a
body, their dresses streaming in the air behind them, each striving to
outrun the other, they look at a distance like a flight of birds rather
than human beings.
Here, as in many other countries, human life, that of the king
excepted, is not of the least value. On one occasion Captain Speke
had given M’tesa a new rifle, with which he was much pleased. After
examining it for some time, he loaded it, handed it to one of his
pages, and told him to go and shoot somebody in the outer court. The
page, a mere boy, took the rifle, went into the court, and in a moment
the report of the rifle showed that the king’s orders had been obeyed.
The urchin came back grinning with delight at the feat which he had
achieved, just like a schoolboy who has shot his first sparrow, and
handed back the rifle to his master. As to the unfortunate man who was
fated to be the target, nothing was heard about him, the murder of a
man being far too common an incident to attract notice.
On one occasion, when M’tesa and his wives were on a pleasure
excursion, one of the favorites, a singularly good-looking woman,
plucked a fruit, and offered it to the king, evidently intending to
please him. Instead of taking it as intended, he flew into a violent
passion, declared that it was the first time that a woman had ever
dared to offer him anything, and ordered the pages to lead her
off to execution. “These words were no sooner uttered by the king
than the whole bevy of pages slipped their cord turbans from their
heads, and rushed like a pack of Cupid beagles upon the fairy queen,
who, indignant at the little urchins daring to touch her majesty,
remonstrated with the king, and tried to beat them off like flies, but
was soon captured, overcome, and dragged away, crying in the names of
the Kamraviona and M’zungu (myself [_i. e._ Captain Speke]) for help
and protection, whilst Lubuga, the pet sister, and all the other women
clasped the king by his legs, and, kneeling, implored forgiveness
for their sister. The more they craved for mercy, the more brutal he
became, till at last he took a heavy stick and began to belabor the
poor victim on the head. The artist has represented this scene in the
engraving on previous page.
“Hitherto I had been extremely careful not to interfere with any of
the king’s acts of arbitrary cruelty, knowing that such interference
at an early stage would produce more harm than good. This last act of
barbarism, however, was too much for my English blood to stand; and
as I heard my name, M’zungu, imploringly pronounced, I rushed at the
king, and, staying his uplifted arm, demanded from him the woman’s
life. Of course I ran imminent risk of losing my own in thus thwarting
the capricious tyrant, but his caprice proved the friend of both. The
novelty of interference made him smile, and the woman was instantly
released.”
On another occasion, when M’tesa had been out shooting, Captain
Grant asked what sport he had enjoyed. The unexpected answer was
that game had been very scarce, but that he had shot a good many men
instead. Beside the pages who have been mentioned, there were several
executioners, who were pleasant and agreeable men in private life,
and held in great respect by the people. They were supposed to be in
command of the pages who bound with their rope turbans the unfortunates
who were to suffer, and mostly inflicted the punishment itself.
This particular king seems to have been rather exceptionally cruel, his
very wives being subject to the same capriciousness of temper as the
rest of his subjects. Of course he beat them occasionally, but as wife
beating is the ordinary custom in Uganda, he was only following the
ordinary habits of the people.
There is a peculiar whip made for the special purpose of beating wives.
It is formed of a long strip of hippopotamus hide, split down the
middle to within three or four inches of the end. The entire end is
beaten and scraped until it is reduced in size to the proper dimensions
of a handle. The two remaining thongs are suffered to remain square,
but are twisted in a screw-like fashion, so as to present sharp edges
throughout their whole length. When dry, this whip is nearly as hard
as iron, and scarcely less heavy, so that at every blow the sharp
edges cut deeply into the flesh. Wife flogging, however, was not all;
he was in the habit of killing his wives and their attendants without
the least remorse. While Captain Speke was residing within the limits
of the palace, there was scarcely a day when some woman was not led to
execution, and some days three or four were murdered. Mostly they were
female attendants of the queens, but frequently the royal pages dragged
out a woman whose single cockade on the top of her head announced her
as one of the king’s wives.
M’tesa, in fact, was a complete African Bluebeard, continually marrying
and killing, the brides, however, exceeding the victims in number.
Royal marriage is a very simple business in Uganda. Parents who have
offended their king and want to pacify him, or who desire to be looked
on favorably by him, bring their daughters and offer them as he sits at
the door of his house. As is the case with all his female attendants,
they are totally unclothed, and stand before the king in ignorance
of their future. If he accept them, he makes them sit down, seats
himself on their knees, and embraces them. This is the whole of the
ceremony, and as each girl is thus accepted, the happy parents perform
the curious salutation called “n’yanzigging,” _i. e._ prostrating
themselves on the ground, floundering about, clapping their hands, and
ejaculating the word “n’yans,” or thanks, as fast as they can say it.
Twenty or thirty brides will sometimes be presented to him in a single
morning, and he will accept more than half of them, some of them being
afterward raised to the rank of wives, while the others are relegated
to the position of attendants. It was rather remarkable, that although
the principal queen was most liberal with these attendants, offering
plenty of them to Captain Speke and his companions, not one of them
would have been permitted to marry a native, as she might have betrayed
the secrets of the palace.
Life in the palace may be honorable enough, but seems to be anything
but agreeable, except to the king. The whole of the court are abject
slaves, and at the mercy of any momentary caprice of the merciless,
thoughtless, irresponsible despot. Whatever wish may happen to enter
the king’s head must be executed at once, or woe to the delinquent
who fails to carry it out. Restless and captious as a spoiled child,
he never seemed to know exactly what he wanted, and would issue
simultaneously the most contradictory orders, and then expect them to
be obeyed.
As for the men who held the honorable post of his guards, they were
treated something worse than dogs--far worse, indeed, than M’tesa
treated his own dog. They might lodge themselves as they could, and
were simply fed by throwing great lumps of beef and plantains among
them. For this they scramble just like so many dogs, scratching and
tearing the morsels from each other, and trying to devour as much as
possible within a given number of seconds.
The soldiers of M’tesa were much better off than his guards, although
their position was not so honorable. They are well dressed, and their
rank is distinguished by a sort of uniform, the officers of royal birth
wearing the leopard-skin tippet, while those of inferior rank are
distinguished by colored cloths, and skin cloaks made of the hide of
oxen or antelopes. Each carries two spears, and an oddly-formed shield,
originally oval, but cut into deep scallops, and having at every point
a pendent tuft of hair. Their heads are decorated in a most curious
manner, some of the men wearing a crescent-like ornament, and some
tying round their heads wreaths made of different materials, to which
a horn, a bunch of beads, a dried lizard, or some such ornament, is
appended.
Not deficient in personal courage, their spirits were cheered in combat
by the certainty of reward or punishment. Should they behave themselves
bravely, treasures would be heaped upon them, and they would receive
from their royal master plenty of cattle and wives. But if they behaved
badly, the punishment was equally certain and most terrible. A recreant
soldier was not only put to death, but holes bored in his body with
red-hot irons until he died from sheer pain and exhaustion.
Now and then the king held a review, in which the valiant and the
cowards obtained their fitting rewards. These reviews offered most
picturesque scenes. “Before us was a large open sward, with the huts
of the queen’s Kamraviona or commander-in-chief beyond. The battalion,
consisting of what might be termed three companies, each containing
two hundred men, being drawn up on the left extremity of the parade
ground, received orders to march past in single file from the right of
companies at a long trot, and re-form again at the end of the square.
“Nothing conceivable could be more wild or fantastic than the sight
which ensued; the men all nearly naked, with goat or cat skins
depending from their girdles, and smeared with war colors, according
to the taste of the individual; one half of the body red or black,
the other blue, not in regular order; as, for instance, one stocking
would be red, and the other black, whilst the breeches above would
be the opposite colors, and so with the sleeves and waistcoat. Every
man carried the same arms, two spears and one shield, held as if
approaching an enemy, and they thus moved in three lines of single rank
and file, at fifteen or twenty paces asunder, with the same high action
and elongated step, the ground leg only being bent, to give their
strides the greater force.
“After the men had all started, the captains of companies followed,
even more fantastically dressed; and last of all came the great
Colonel Congow, a perfect Robinson Crusoe, with his long white-haired
goat-skins, a fiddle-shaped leather shield, tufted with hair at all
six extremities, bands of long hair tied below the knees, and a
magnificent helmet covered with rich beads of every color in excellent
taste, surmounted with a plume of crimson feathers, in the centre of
which rose a bent stem tufted with goat’s-hair. Next, they charged in
companies to and fro, and finally the senior officers came charging at
their king, making violent professions of faith and honesty, for which
they were applauded. The parade then broke up, and all went home.”
At these reviews, the king distributes rewards and metes out his
punishments. The scene is equally stirring and terrible. As the various
officers come before the king, they prostrate themselves on the ground,
and, after going through their elaborate salutation, they deliver their
reports as to the conduct of the men under their command. To some
are given various presents, with which they go off rejoicing, after
floundering about on the ground in the extremity of their gratitude;
while others are seized by the ever-officious pages, bound, and dragged
off to execution, the unfortunate men struggling with their captors,
fighting, and denying the accusation, until they are out of hearing.
As soon as the king thinks that he has had enough of the business, he
rises abruptly, picks up his spears, and goes off, leading his dog with
him.
The native account of the origin of the Waganda kingdom is very
curious. According to them, the country which is now called Uganda was
previously united with Unyoro, a more northerly kingdom, of which we
shall presently treat. Eight generations back there came from Unyoro a
hunter named Uganda, bringing with him a spear, a shield, a woman, and
a pack of dogs. He began to hunt on the shores of the lake, and was so
successful that he was joined by vast numbers of the people, to whom he
became a chief.
Under his sway, the hitherto scattered people assumed the character of
a nation, and began to feel their strength. Their leading men then held
a council on their government, and determined on making Uganda their
king. “For,” said they, “of what avail to us is the king of Unyoro? He
is so far distant that, when we sent him a cow as a present, the cow
had a calf, and that calf became a cow and gave birth to another calf,
and yet the present has not reached the king. Let us have a king of
our own.” So they induced Uganda to be their king, changed his name to
Kimera, and assigned his former name to the country.
Kimera, thus made king, took his station on a stone and showed himself
to his new subjects, having in his hand his spears and shield, and
being accompanied by a woman and a dog; and in this way all succeeding
kings have presented themselves to their subjects. All the Waganda
are, in consequence, expected to keep at least two spears, a shield
and a dog, and the officers are also entitled to have drums. The king
of Unyoro heard of the new monarch, but did not trouble himself about
a movement at such a distance, and so the kingdom of Uganda became an
acknowledged reality.
However, Kimera organized his people in so admirable a manner, that he
became a perfect terror to the king of Unyoro, and caused him to regret
that, when Kimera’s power was not yet consolidated, he had not crushed
him. Kimera formed his men into soldiers, drafted them into different
regiments, drilled and organized them thoroughly. He cut roads through
his kingdom, traversing it in all directions. He had whole fleets of
boats built, and threw bridges over rivers wherever they interrupted
his line of road. He descended into the minutest particulars of
domestic polity, and enforced the strictest sanitary system throughout
his country, not even suffering a house to be built unless it possessed
the means of cleanliness.
Organization, indeed, seems now to be implanted in the Waganda mind.
Even the mere business of taking bundles of wood into the palace must
be done in military style. “After the logs are carried a certain
distance, the men charge up hill with walking sticks at the slope,
to the sound of the drum, shouting and chorusing. On reaching their
officer, they drop on their knees to salute, by saying repeatedly in
one voice the word ‘n’yans’ (thanks). Then they go back, charging down
hill, stooping simultaneously to pick up the wood, till step by step,
it taking several hours, the neatly cut logs are regularly stacked in
the palace yards.”
Each officer of a district would seem to have a different mode
of drill. The Wazeewah, with long sticks, were remarkable
well-disciplined, shouting and marching all in regular time, every
club going through the same movement; the most attractive part of the
drill being when all crouched simultaneously, and then advanced in open
ranks, swinging their bodies to the roll of their drums.
By such means Kimera soon contrived to make himself so powerful that
his very name was dreaded throughout Unyoro, into which country he was
continually making raids. If, for example, at one of his councils he
found that one part of his dominions was deficient in cattle or women,
he ordered one or two of his generals to take their troops into Unyoro,
and procure the necessary number. In order that he might always have
the means of carrying his ideas into effect, the officers of the army
are expected to present themselves at the palace as often as they
possibly can, and, if they fail to do so, they are severely punished;
their rank is taken from them; their property confiscated, and their
goods, their wives, and their children are given to others.
In fact, Kimera proceeded on a system of reward and punishment: the
former he meted out with a liberal hand; the latter was certain, swift,
and terrible. In process of time Kimera died, and his body was dried
by being placed over an oven. When it was quite dry, the lower jaw was
removed and covered with beads; and this, together with the body, were
placed in tombs, and guarded by the deceased monarch’s favorite women,
who were prohibited even from seeing his successor.
After Kimera’s death, the people proceeded to choose a king from among
his many children, called “Warangira,” or princes. The king elect was
very young, and was separated from the others, who were placed in a
suite of huts under charge of a keeper. As soon as the young prince
reached years of discretion, he was publicly made king, and at the
same time all his brothers except two were burned to death. The two
were allowed to live in case the new king should die before he had any
sons, and also as companions for him. As soon as the line of direct
succession was secured, one of the brothers was banished into Unyoro,
and the other allowed to live in Uganda.
When Captains Speke and Grant arrived in Uganda, the reigning sovereign
was M’tesa, the seventh in succession from Kimera. He was about
twenty-five years of age, and, although he had not been formally
received as king, wielded a power as supreme as if he had passed
through this ceremony. He was wise enough to keep up the system which
had been bequeathed to him by his ancestors, and the Uganda kingdom
was even more powerful in his time than it had been in the days of
Kimera. A close acquaintance proved that his personal character was
not a pleasant one, as indeed was likely when it is remembered that he
had possessed illimitable power ever since he was quite a boy, and in
consequence had never known contradiction.
He was a very fine-looking young man, and possessed in perfection
the love of dress, which is so notable a feature in the character of
the Waganda. They are so fastidious in this respect, that for a man
to appear untidily dressed before his superiors would entail severe
punishment, while, if he dared to present himself before the king with
the least disorder of apparel, immediate death would be the result.
Even the royal pages, who rush about at full speed when performing
their commissions, are obliged to hold their skin cloaks tightly round
them, lest any portion of a naked limb should present itself to the
royal glance.
The appearance of M’tesa is well described by Captain Speke:--“A more
theatrical sight I never saw. The king, a good-looking, well-formed
young man of twenty-five, was sitting upon a red blanket, spread
upon a square platform of royal grass, encased in tiger-grass reeds,
scrupulously dressed in a new ’mbugu (or grass-cloth). The hair of his
head was cut short, except upon the top, where it was combed up into
a high ridge, running from stem to stern, like a cock’s comb. On his
neck was a very neat ornament--a large ring of beautifully-worked small
beads, forming elegant patterns by their various colors. On one arm
was another bead ornament, prettily devised, and on the other a wooden
charm, tied by a string covered with a snake skin. On every finger and
toe he had alternate brass and copper rings, and above the ankles,
half-way up the calf, a stocking of very pretty beads.
“Everything was light, neat, and elegant in its way; not a fault could
be found with the taste of his ‘getting-up.’ For a handkerchief, he
had a well-folded piece of bark, and a piece of gold-embroidered silk,
which he constantly employed to hide his large mouth when laughing, or
to wipe it after a drink of plantain wine, of which he took constant
and copious draughts from little gourd cups, administered by his
ladies in waiting, who were at once his sisters and his wives. A white
dog, spear, shield, and woman--the Uganda cognizance--were by his
side, as also a host of staff officers, with whom he kept up a brisk
conversation, on one side; and on the other was a band of ‘Wichwézi,’
or lady sorcerers.”
These women are indispensable appendages to the court, and attend the
king wherever he goes, their office being to avert the evil eye from
their monarch, and to pour the plantain wine into the royal cups. They
are distinguished by wearing dried lizards on their heads, and on
their belts are fastened goat-skin aprons, edged with little bells. As
emblems of their office, they also carry very small shields and spears,
ornamented with cock-hackles.
M’tesa’s palace is of enormous dimensions, and almost deserves the
name of a village or town. It occupies the whole side of a hill, and
consists of streets of huts arranged as methodically as the houses
of an European town, the line being preserved by fences of the tall
yellow tiger-grass of Uganda. There are also squares and open spaces,
and the whole is kept in perfect order and neatness. The inner courts
are entered by means of gates, each gate being kept by an officer, who
permits no one to pass who has not the king’s permission. In case his
vigilance should be evaded, each gate has a bell fastened to it on the
inside, just as they are hung on shop-doors in England.
In the illustration No. 1, opposite, the artist has selected the moment
when the visitor is introduced to the immediate presence of the king.
Under the shade of the hut the monarch is seated on his throne, having
on one side the spears, shield, and dog, and on the other the woman,
these being the accompaniments of royalty. Some of his pages are seated
near him, with their cord turbans bound on their tufted heads, ready
to obey his slightest word. Immediately in front are some soldiers
saluting him, and one of them, to whom he has granted some favor, is
floundering on the ground, thanking, or “n’yanzigging,” according to
the custom of the place. On the other side is the guest, a man of rank,
who is introduced by the officer of the gate. The door itself, with its
bells, is drawn aside, and over the doorway is a rope, on which are
hung a row of charms. The king’s private band is seen in the distance,
performing with its customary vigor.
[Illustration: (1.) RECEPTION OF A VISITOR. (See page 416.)]
[Illustration: (2.) THE MAGICIAN AT WORK. (See page 427.)]
The architecture of the huts within these enclosures is wonderfully
good, the Waganda having great natural advantages, and making full use
of them. The principal material in their edifices is reed, which in
Uganda grows to a very great height, and is thick and strong in the
stem. Grass for thatching is also found in vast quantities, and there
is plenty of straight timber for the rafters. The roof is double, in
order to exclude the sunbeams, and the outer roof comes nearly to the
ground on all sides. The fabric is upheld by a number of poles, from
which are hung corn-sacks, meat, and other necessaries.
The interior is separated into two compartments by a high screen made
of plantain leaf, and within the inner apartment the cane bedstead of
the owner is placed. Yet, with all this care in building, there is only
one door, and no window or chimney; and although the Waganda keep their
houses tolerably clean, the number of dogs which they keep fill their
huts with fleas, so that when a traveller takes possession of a house,
he generally has the plantain screen removed, and makes on the floor as
large a fire as possible, so as to exterminate the insect inhabitants.
The ceremonies of receiving a royal guest are as elaborate as the
architecture. Officers of rank step forward to greet him, while
musicians are in attendance, playing on the various instruments of
Uganda, most of them being similar to those which have already been
described. Even the height of the seat on which the visitor is to place
himself is rigorously determined, the chief object seeming to be to
force him to take a seat lower than that to which he is entitled. In
presence of the king, who sits on a chair or throne, no subject is
allowed to be seated on anything higher than the ground; and if he can
be induced to sit in the blazing sunbeams, and wait until the king is
pleased to see him, a triumph of diplomacy has been secured.
When the king has satisfied himself with his guest, or thinks that he
is tired, he rises without any warning, and marches off to his room,
using the peculiar gait affected by the kings of Uganda, and supposed
to be imitated from the walk of the lion. To the eyes of the Waganda,
the “lion’s step,” as the peculiar walk is termed, is very majestic,
but to the eyes of an European it is simply ludicrous, the feet being
planted widely apart, and the body swung from side to side at each
step. If any of my readers should have known Christ’s Hospital, they
may remember the peculiar style of walking which was termed “spadging,”
and which used to be, and may be now, an equivalent to the “lion-step”
of the Uganda king.
After M’tesa had received his white visitor, he suddenly rose and
retired after the royal custom, and, as etiquette did not permit him to
eat until he had seen his visitors, he took the opportunity of breaking
his fast.
Round the king, as he sits on his grass-covered throne, are his
councillors and officers, squatted on the ground, with their dresses
drawn tightly around them, and partly seated on the royal leopard skins
which are strewed on the ground. There is also a large drum, decorated
with little bells strung on wire arches, and some smaller drums,
covered with beads and cowrie shells, worked into various patterns.
Outside the inner circle sit the ordinary officers, and while the king
is present not a word is spoken, lest he should take offence at it; and
not an eye is lifted, lest a casual glance might fall on one of the
king’s women, and be the precursor of a cruel death.
The Waganda are much given to superstition, and have a most implicit
faith in charms. The king is very rich in charms, and, whenever he
holds his court, has vast numbers of them suspended behind him, besides
those which he carries on his person. These charms are made of almost
anything that the magician chooses to select. Horns, filled with magic
powder, are perhaps the most common, and these are slung on the neck or
tied on the head if small, and kept in the huts if large.
Their great object of superstitious dread is a sort of water-spirit,
which is supposed to inhabit the lake, and to wreak his vengeance upon
those who disturb him. Like the water-spirits of the Rhine, this goblin
has supreme jurisdiction, not only on the lake itself, but in all
rivers that communicate with it; and the people are so afraid of this
aquatic demon, that they would not allow a sounding-line to be thrown
into the water, lest perchance the weight should happen to hit the
water-spirit and enrage him. The name of this spirit is M’gussa, and he
communicates with the people by means of his own special minister or
priest, who lives on an island, and is held in nearly as much awe as
his master.
M’tesa once took Captain Speke with him to see the magician. He took
also a number of his wives and attendants, and it was very amusing,
when they reached the boats, to see all the occupants jump into the
water, ducking their heads so as to avoid seeing the royal women, a
stray glance being sure to incur immediate death. They proceeded to the
island on which the wizard lived.
“Proceeding now through the trees of this beautiful island, we next
turned into the hut of the M’gussa’s familiar, which at the further
end was decorated with many mystic symbols, among them a paddle, the
badge of high office; and for some time we sat chatting, when pombé was
brought, and the spiritual medium arrived. He was dressed Wichwézi
fashion, with a little white goatskin apron, adorned with various
charms, and used a paddle for a walking-stick. He was not an old man,
though he articled to be so, walking very slowly and deliberately,
coughing asthmatically, glimmering with his eyes, and mumbling like
a witch. With much affected difficulty he sat at the end of the hut,
beside the symbols alluded to, and continued his coughing full half an
hour, when his wife came in in the same manner, without saying a word,
and assumed the same affected style.
“The king jokingly looked at me and laughed, and then at these strange
creatures by turns, as much as to say, ‘What do you think of them?’ but
no voice was heard, save that of the old wife, who croaked like a frog
for water, and, when some was brought, croaked again because it was not
the purest of the lake’s produce--had the first cup changed, wetted her
lips with the second, and hobbled away in the same manner as she had
come.”
On their pathways and roads, which are very numerous and well kept,
they occasionally place a long stick in the ground, with a shell or
other charm on the top, or suspend the shell on the overhanging branch
of a tree. Similar wands, on a smaller scale, are kept in the houses,
and bits of feathers, rushes, and other articles are tied behind the
door. Snake-skin is of course much used in making these charms, and a
square piece of this article is hung round the neck of almost every man
of this country.
The religion of the Waganda is of course one inspired by terror, and
not by love, the object of all their religious rites being to avert
the anger of malignant spirits. Every new moon has its own peculiar
worship, which is conducted by banging drums, replenishing the magic
horns, and other ceremonies too long to describe. The most terrible of
their rites is that of human sacrifice, which is usually employed when
the king desires to look into the future.
The victim is always a child, and the sacrifice is conducted in a most
cruel manner. Having discovered by his incantations that a neighbor is
projecting war, the magician flays a young child, and lays the bleeding
body in the path on which the soldiers pass to battle. Each warrior
steps over the bleeding body, and thereby is supposed to procure
immunity for himself in the approaching battle. When the king makes
war, his chief magician uses a still more cruel mode of divination. He
takes a large earthen pot, half fills it with water, and then places it
over the fireplace. On the mouth of the pot he lays a small platform
of crossed sticks, and having bound a young child and a fowl, he lays
them on the platform, covering them with another pot, which he inverts
over them. The fire is then lighted, and suffered to burn for a given
time, when the upper pot is removed, and the victims inspected. If
they should both be dead, it is taken as a sign that the war must be
deferred for the present; but if either should be alive, war may be
made at once.
Speaking of these and other black tribes, Captain Speke very rightly
observes: “How the negro has lived so many ages without advancing seems
marvellous, when all the countries surrounding Africa are so forward
in comparison. And, judging from the progressive state of the world,
one is led to suppose that the African must soon either step out from
his darkness, or be superseded by a being superior to himself. Could a
government be formed for them like ours in India, they would be saved,
but without it I fear there is very little chance. For at present the
African neither can help himself nor be helped by others, because his
country is in such a constant state of turmoil that he has too much
anxiety on hand looking out for his food to think of anything else.
“As his fathers did, so does he. He works his wife, sells his children,
enslaves all he can lay hands on, and, unless when fighting for the
property of others, contents himself with drinking, singing, and
dancing like a baboon, to drive dull care away. A few only make cotton
cloth, or work in wool, iron, copper, or salt, their rule being to do
as little as possible, and to store up nothing beyond the necessities
of the next season, lest their chiefs or neighbors should covet and
take it from them.”
The same experienced traveller then proceeds to enumerate the many
kinds of food which the climate affords to any one of ordinary
industry, such as horned cattle, sheep, goats, pigs, fowls, ducks, and
pigeons, not to mention the plantain and other vegetable products,
and expresses a feeling of surprise that, with such stores of food
at his command, the black man should be so often driven to feed on
wild herbs and roots, dogs, cats, rats, snakes, lizards, insects, and
other similar animals, and should be frequently found on the point of
starvation, and be compelled to sell his own children to procure food.
Moreover, there are elephants, rhinoceroses, hippopotamus, buffaloes,
giraffes, antelopes, guinea-fowls, and a host of other animals, which
can be easily captured in traps or pitfalls, so that the native African
lives in the midst of a country which produces food in boundless
variety. The reasons for such a phenomenon are simple enough, and may
be reduced to two,--namely, utter want of foresight and constitutional
indolence.
As to the question of slavery, it may perhaps be as well to remark that
slaves are not exclusively sold to white men. On the contrary, there is
no slave-holder so tenacious of his acquired rights as the black man,
and, for every slave sold to a white man, ten are bought by the dark
races, whether on the east or west of Africa. And, when a slave begins
to raise himself above a mere menial rank, his first idea is to buy
slaves for himself, because they are the articles of merchandise which
is most easily to be procured, and so, as Captain Speke well observes,
slavery begets slavery _ad infinitum_. The summary of Captain Speke’s
experience is valuable. “Possessed of a wonderful amount of loquacity,
great risibility, but no stability--a creature of impulse--a grown
child in short--at first sight it seems wonderful how he can be trained
to work, for there is no law, no home to bind him. He would run away at
any moment, and, presuming on this, he sins, expecting to be forgiven.
Great forbearance, occasionally tinctured with a little fatherly
severity, is, I believe, the best dose for him. For he says to his
master, after sinning, ‘You ought to forgive and to forget, for are you
not a big man who would be above harboring spite, though for a moment
you may be angry? Flog me if you like, but do not keep count against
me, or else I shall run away, and what will you do then?’”
The burying-places of the Waganda are rather elaborate. Captain Grant
had the curiosity to enter one of them, and describes it as follows:
“Two huts on a height appeared devoted to the remains of the dead. On
getting over the fence surrounding them, a lawn having straight walks
led up to the doors, where a screen of bark cloth shut out the view of
the interior. Conquering a feeling of delicacy, I entered one of the
huts. I found a fixed bedstead of cane, curtained as if to shade its
bed of grass from the mosquito, spears, charms, sticks with strange
crooks, tree-creepers, miniature idol-huts of grass, &c. These were
laid in order in the interior, but no one was there, and we were told
that it was a mausoleum.”
Many of such houses were seen on the hill-sides, but few so elaborately
built. Usually they were little more than square patches of ground
enclosed with a reed fence. These were called by the name of “Looaleh,”
or sacred ground.
CHAPTER XL.
THE WANYORO.
CHARACTER OF THE WANYORO TRIBE -- DIRTY HABITS -- MODE OF GOVERNMENT
-- KING KAMRASI -- HIS DESPOTIC CHARACTER -- HIS BODY-GUARD AND THEIR
PRIVILEGES -- HIS PERSONAL APPEARANCE -- HIS GRASPING SELFISHNESS
-- A ROYAL VISIT -- KAMRASI’S COWARDICE -- EXECUTION OF CRIMINALS
-- CRUSHING A REBELLION -- LAWS OF SUCCESSION -- THE KING’S SISTERS
-- WANYORO SINGING -- CONDITION OF WOMEN -- FOOD OF THE WANYORO --
CARRYING PROVISIONS ON THE MARCH -- USES OF THE PLANTAIN TREE --
FRAUDS IN TRADE -- SUPERSTITIONS -- THE MAGICIAN AT WORK -- THE
HORNED DOG -- SPADE-MONEY.
Proceeding still northward, we come to the land of Unyoro, from which,
as the reader will remember, the country of Uganda was separated. The
inhabitants of Unyoro form a very unpleasant contrast to those of
Uganda, being dirty, mean-looking, and badly dressed. The country,
too, is far inferior to Uganda, which might be made into a perpetually
blooming garden; for, as the traveller leaves the equator and passes
to the north, he finds that the rains gradually decrease, and that
vegetation first becomes thin, then stunted, and lastly disappears
altogether. The same structure of language prevails here as in Uganda,
so that the people of Unyoro are called Wanyoro, and a single person is
a M’yoro.
The character of the Wanyoro is quite on a par with their appearance,
for they are a mean, selfish, grasping set of people, sadly lacking
the savage virtue of hospitality, and always on the lookout for
opportunities to procure by unfair means the property of others.
They seem, indeed, to be about as unpleasant a nation as can well be
imagined, and in almost every point afford a strong contrast to others
which have already been described.
They are singularly dirty in their domestic habits, their huts being
occupied equally by men, goats, and fowls, and the floor, which is
thickly covered with straw, is consequently in a most abominable
condition. It is so bad, indeed, that even the natives are obliged
to make a raised bedstead on which to sleep. Even the king’s palace
is no exception to the general rule; the cattle are kept within the
enclosure, and even his very sleeping-hut is freely entered by calves.
To visit the “palace” without stilts and a respirator was too severe
a task even to so hardened a traveller as Captain Speke, but the king
walked about among the cows, ankle-deep in all sorts of horrors, and
yet perfectly at his ease.
The government of this country is pure despotism, the king possessing
irresponsible and unquestioned power. The subject can really possess
property, but only holds it by the king’s pleasure. This theory is
continually reduced to practice, the king taking from one person, and
giving, or rather lending, to another, anything that he chooses,--land,
cattle, slaves, wives, and children being equally ranked in the
category of property.
The king who reigned over Unyoro at the time when Captain Speke visited
it was named Kamrasi. He was a man who united in himself a singular
variety of characters. Merciless, even beyond the ordinary type of
African cruelty; capricious as a spoiled child, and scattering death
and torture around for the mere whim of the moment; inhospitable and
repellant according to the usual Wanyoro character; covetous and
grasping to the last degree; ambitious of regaining the lost portion
of his kingdom, and yet too cowardly to declare war. He was a man who
scarcely seemed likely to retain his hold on the sceptre.
Yet, although contemptible as he was in many things, he was not to be
despised, and, although no one cared to meet him as a friend, all knew
that he could be a most dangerous enemy. For he possessed a large share
of cunning, which stood him in stead of the nobler virtues which ought
to adorn a throne, and ruled his subjects by a mixture of craft and
force. His system of espionage would have done honor to M. de Sartines,
and there was nothing that happened in his country that he did not know.
The whole land was divided into districts, and over each district was
set an officer who was responsible for everything which occurred in
it, and was bound to give information to the king. The least failure
in this respect entailed death or the “shoe,” which was nearly as bad,
and often terminated in death. The “shoe” is simply a large and heavy
log of wood with an oblong slit cut through it. Into this slit the feet
are passed, and a stout wooden peg is then driven through the log and
between the ankles, so as to hold the feet tightly imprisoned. As to
the exact position of the peg, the executioner is in no way particular;
and if he should happen to drive it against, instead of between, the
ankles, he cares nothing about it. Consequently, the torture is often
so great, that those who have been so imprisoned have died of sheer
exhaustion.
[Illustration: CULPRIT IN THE SHOE.]
In order to be able to carry out his orders without having a chance
of disobedience, he kept a guard of armed soldiers, some five hundred
in number. These men always carried their shields and spears; the
latter have hard blades, kept very sharp, and their edges defended by a
sheath, neatly made of antelope skin, sewed together with thongs. The
ordinary spears are not nearly so good, because the Wanyoro are not
remarkable for excellence in smith’s work, and the better kind of spear
heads which are hawked through the country are bought by the Waganda,
who are a richer people.
This body-guard is dressed in the most extraordinary manner, their
chief object seeming to be to render themselves as unlike men and as
like demons as possible. They wear leopard or monkey skins by way of
tunic, strap cows’ tails to the small of their backs, and tie a couple
of antelope’s horns on their heads, while their chins are decorated
with long false beards, made of the bushy ends of cows’ tails.
When Sir S. Baker visited Kamrasi, this body-guard rushed out of
the palace to meet him, dancing, yelling, screaming, brandishing
their spears, pretending to fight among themselves, and, when they
reached their visitors, flourishing their spears in the faces of the
strangers, and making feints of attack. So sudden was their charge, and
so menacing their aspect, that several of his men thought that they
were charging in real earnest, and begged him to fire at them. Being,
however, convinced that their object was not to kill, but to do him
honor, he declined to fire, and found that the threatening body of men
were simply sent by Kamrasi as his escort. Had his armed Turks been
with him, they would certainly have received these seeming demons with
a volley.
A curious instance of his craft was given by his reception of Sir S.
Baker. When the traveller was first promised an interview, Kamrasi
ordered his brother, M’Gambi, to personate him, while he himself,
disguised as one of the escort, secretly watched the travellers.
M’Gambi executed his office admirably, and personated his royal brother
to perfection, asking for everything which he saw--guns, watches,
beads, and clothes being equally acceptable,--and finished by asking
for Lady Baker. In case the article should be thought more valuable
than the others, he offered to give one of his own wives in exchange.
This proposal nearly cost M’Gambi his life, and it may be that the wily
king had foreseen the possibility of some such result when he ordered
his brother to personate him, and permitted him to take his place on
the copper stool of royalty. In fact. M’Gambi did admit that the king
was afraid that his visitors might be in league with an adverse power.
In order to attach his guards to his person, Kamrasi allowed them
all kinds of license, permiting them to rob and plunder as much as
they liked; his theory being that, as everything within his reach
belonged to him, he in reality did no harm to his subjects, the loss
eventually falling on himself. Thus it will be seen that the king was a
far-sighted man in some things, and that he knew how to rule by fear,
if not by love.
He was tall and slender, and scarcely looked his age, which was about
forty, and his features on the whole were good, as were his eyes,
which were soft and gentle, sadly belying his character. His face
was, however, disfigured by the national custom of removing the lower
incisor and eye-teeth, and he said that the dentist who performed the
operation had been rewarded with a fee of a hundred cows. His color was
dark brown, and, but for the sinister expression of his countenance,
he would really be a handsome man. His features were, however, rather
disfigured by the scars which covered his forehead, and which still
remained as vestiges of sundry cauterizations. In Unyoro, the actual
cautery, _i. e._ a red-hot iron, is in great favor as a means of cure;
and whenever a man chooses to intoxicate himself with native beer or
imported rum, and to suffer the usual penalty of a headache on the
following morning, he immediately thinks that he is bewitched, and
proceeds to drive out the demon by burning his forehead in a multitude
of spots. Kamrasi had gone a little beyond the ordinary custom, and
had applied the hot iron to his nose, causing such a scar that he was
anxious to have it removed, and his nose restored to its ordinary color.
He did not take to European clothing, preferring the manufactures
of his own country. His ordinary dress was a mantle tied round his
waist and descending to his feet. Sometimes it was made of cloth,
and at others of skins; but it was always of a light red color, and
was decorated with little patches of black cloth, with which it was
covered. He had his head shaved at intervals, but between the times
of shaving his hair grew in little knobby tufts, like those of the
Bosjesman. He wore but few ornaments, the chief being a necklace of
beads, which hung to his waist.
Kamrasi had a very tolerable idea of effect, as was seen from the
manner in which he received his guests. A hut was built for the express
purpose, and within it was the royal throne, _i. e._ a stool--to sit
on which is the special privilege of royalty. A quantity of grass
was formed into a rather high platform, which was covered first with
cow-hides and then with leopard skins, the latter being the royal fur.
Over this throne was hung a canopy of cow-skin, stretched on every
side and suspended from the roof, in order to keep dust off the royal
head. On the throne sat Kamrasi, enveloped in fine grass cloth, his
left wrist adorned with a bracelet, and his hair carefully dressed. He
sat calm, motionless, and silent, like an Egyptian statue, and with
unchanged countenance contemplated the wonderful white men of whom he
had heard so much.
It is hardly possible to conceive a more unpleasant person than
Kamrasi, putting aside the total want of cleanliness which he
exhibited, and which may be considered as a national and not as an
individual characteristic. His avarice induced him to wish for the
presence of travellers who would create a new line of trade, while
his intense cowardice made him fear a foe in every stranger. He was
horribly afraid of M’tesa, and when he found that white travellers had
been hospitably received by that potentate, he thought that they must
come with sinister intentions, and therefore was on his guard against
his fancied foes. When he got over his fears, he was as provoking
in the character of mendicant as he had been in that of a terrified
despot. When Sir S. Baker was in his dominions, Kamrasi insisted on
paying him a visit, although he knew well that his guest was only just
recovering from fever, and therefore had not been able to attend at the
palace.
“Although I had but little remaining from my stock of luggage except
the guns, ammunition, and astronomical instruments, I was obliged
to hide everything underneath the beds, lest the avaricious eyes of
Kamrasi should detect a ‘want.’ True to his appointment, he appeared
with numerous attendants, and was ushered into my little hut. I
had a very rude but serviceable arm-chair that one of my men had
constructed--in this the king was invited to sit. Hardly was he seated,
when he leant back, stretched out his legs, and, making some remark to
his attendants concerning his personal comfort, he asked for the chair
as a present. I promised to have one made for him immediately. This
being arranged, he surveyed the barren little hut, vainly endeavoring
to fix his eyes upon something that he could demand. But, so fruitless
was his search, that he laughingly turned to his people and said, ‘How
was it that they wanted so many porters if they have nothing to carry?’
My interpreter explained that many things had been spoiled during the
storms on the lake, and had been left behind; that our provisions had
long since been consumed, and that our clothes were worn out--that we
had nothing left but a few beads.
“‘New varieties, no doubt,’ he replied; ‘give me all that you have of
the small blue and the large red.’
“We had carefully hidden the main stock, and a few had been arranged
in bags to be produced as the occasion might require. These were now
unpacked by the boy Saat, and laid before the king. I told him to make
his choice, which he did, precisely as I had anticipated, by making
presents to his surrounding friends out of my stock, and monopolizing
the remainder for his share. The division of the portions among his
people was a modest way of taking the whole, as he would immediately
demand their return on quitting my hut.
“No sooner were the beads secured than he repeated the original demand
for my watch and the No. 24 double rifle; these I resolutely refused.
He then requested permission to see the contents of a few of the
baskets and bags that formed our worn-out luggage. There was nothing
that took his fancy except needles, thread, lancets, medicines, and a
small tooth comb. The latter interested him exceedingly, as I explained
that the object of the Turks in collecting ivory was to sell it to
Europeans, who manufactured it into many articles, among which were
small tooth combs, such as he then examined. He could not understand
how the teeth could be so finely cut.
“Upon the use of the comb being explained, he immediately attempted to
practise upon his woolly head. Failing in the operation, he adapted the
instrument to a different purpose, and commenced scratching beneath
the wool most vigorously. The effect being satisfactory, he at once
demanded the comb, which was handed to each of the surrounding chiefs,
all of whom had a trial of its properties. Every head having been
scratched, it was returned to the king, who handed it to Quonga, the
headman that received his presents. So complete was the success of the
comb, that he proposed to send me one of the largest tusks, which I was
to take to England and cut into as many small tooth combs as it would
produce for himself and his chiefs.”
During this interview, Kamrasi discovered a case of lancets, and begged
for them, as they were so well adapted for paring his nails. Also, he
opened the medicine chest, and was so determined to take a dose at once
that Sir S. Baker took a little revenge, and administered three grains
of tartar emetic, not to be taken until he reached his own hut. As to
the No. 24 rifle, which has already been mentioned, Kamrasi was always
hankering after it, at one time openly begging for it, and at another
asking to borrow it just for a day or two, when, of course, it never
would have escaped the grasp of the royal clutches.
This provoking man evidently considered his guests to be sent
especially for his own aggrandizement, and his only idea was, how to
use them best for his service. Having once got them safely into his
domains, he had no intention of letting them go again until he had
squeezed them quite dry. First, he wanted to make them pay for the
privilege of entering his dominions; and, when they had once entered,
he was sure to make them pay before they got out again. His first
_ruse_ was, to pretend that they were weak and insignificant, whereas
he was great and strong, and that, if they wanted his protection, they
must pay for it. When once they had entered his district, and had shown
themselves to be more formidable than he had chosen to admit, he asked
them to aid him against his enemies, and to lead his army against the
adverse tribe.
This stratagem failing, even though he was good enough to offer
half his kingdom for the privilege of alliance, he had still one
resource,--namely, forbidding them to leave his kingdom until he
gave permission, _i. e._ until he had extracted from them everything
of value. To leave the country without his permission was simply
impossible, on account of the system of espionage which has already
been mentioned, and, although it might have been possible to force a
way by dint of superior arms, such a struggle would have neutralized
the very object of the expedition.
Bully though he was where he could tyrannize with safety, he was a
most contemptible coward when he thought himself in the least danger.
A very amusing example was shown during the visit of Sir S. Baker.
One morning, just at sunrise, Kamrasi came hastily into his hut shorn
of all regal dignity. In his hands he grasped two spears and a rifle,
and wanted to bring them into the hut, contrary to all etiquette. This
could not be allowed, and he reluctantly left them outside. He had laid
aside his usual cold and repellent manner, and was full of eagerness.
He had also thrown off his ordinary apparel of beautifully-dressed
skins, and only wore a kind of short kilt and a scarf across his
shoulders. Knowing that an attack was meditated by a neighboring chief,
and having seen the people all in war costume--horned, bearded, and
tailed--Sir S. Baker naturally thought that Kamrasi was in fighting
costume, and congratulated him on its appropriate lightness.
“_I_ fight!” exclaimed the king. “I am not going to fight; I am going
to run away, and put on this dress to be able to run faster.”
He then explained in great trepidation that the enemy were approaching
with a hundred and fifty muskets, and that, as it was useless to
fight against such odds, he meant to run away and hide himself in the
long grass, and his guest had better follow his example. From the
anticipated attack he was saved by the timely intervention of his
guest, and the only mark of gratitude which he showed was to ask again
for the double-barrelled rifle.
Still, in spite of these unamiable characteristics, the man had his
redeeming points; and although he was, on occasions and on a large
scale, almost as cruel as a man could be, he did not commit those
continual murders of his subjects which disgraced the reign of M’tesa.
Personal chastisement was used in many cases in which M’tesa would have
inflicted death, and probably a lengthened torture besides.
The mode of passing sentence on a prisoner was very remarkable. Should
the king or his brother M’Gambi touch him with the point of a spear,
the executioners immediately fall upon him with their clubs, and beat
him to death. But, if he should touch the prisoner with his stick,
the executioners instantly pierce him with their spears; so that the
instrument used in killing the man is always the opposite to that with
which the king touches him.
Even in cases where death was inflicted, the criminal was generally
killed by a blow with a club on the back of the neck. There were of
course exceptions to this rule. For example, a hostile chief, named
Rionga, one of his thirty brothers, had been taken prisoner by a
treacherous act on the part of Kamrasi, who first pretended to make
peace, then invited him to a banquet, and seized upon him while he was
off his guard. Kamrasi then ordered him to die by a cruel death. There
was a hut with high mud walls and no doorway. Into this hut Rionga was
hoisted, and the king gave orders that on the following morning the hut
should be fired, and its inmate burned to death.
Another chief, however, named Sali, ingeniously brought out great
quantities of beer, knowing that the guards would be sure to assemble
in any spot where beer was to be found. This they did; and while they
were engaged at one side of the prison drinking, dancing, and singing,
Sali’s men were engaged on the other side in digging a hole through the
mud wall of the hut, and soon succeeded in making an aperture large
enough to allow the prisoner to make his escape.
After this feat, Sali, having seen how treacherous Kamrasi could be,
ought to have secured his own safety by flight, but chose to remain,
thinking that his share in the rescue would not be discovered. Kamrasi,
however, suspected his complicity, and had him arrested at once. He
was sentenced to the cruel death of being dismembered while alive, and
the sentence was carried out by cutting off his hands at the wrists,
his arms at the elbows, and so on until every joint was severed. While
undergoing this torture, he proved himself a brave man by trying to
help his friends, calling aloud from the stake that they had better
escape while they could, lest they should suffer the same penalty.
A curious custom prevails in Unyoro with regard to the king’s sisters.
Like other women of rank, they are fattened on curdled milk, and attain
such a size that they are not able to walk, and, whenever they leave
the hut, each has to be borne on a litter by eight men. Each woman
consumes daily the milk of fifteen or twenty cows, a cow producing
barely one quart of milk. Yet, though this fattening process is an
ordinary preliminary to marriage, the king’s sisters are forbidden
to marry, and are kept in strict seclusion in his palace. So are
his brothers; but, unlike the king of Uganda, he does not think it
necessary to kill them when he reaches the throne.
During the short interval of peace which followed upon Sir S. Baker’s
intervention, the people gave themselves up to debauchery, the men
drinking and dancing and yelling, blowing horns and beating drums all
through the night. The women took no part in this amusement, inasmuch
as they had been hard at work in the fields all day, while their
husbands had been sleeping at home. Consequently they were much too
tired to dance, and tried to snatch what rest they could in the midst
of the night-long din.
“The usual style of singing was a rapid chant, delivered as a solo,
while at intervals the crowd burst out in a deafening chorus, together
with the drums and horns. The latter were formed of immense gourds,
which, growing in a peculiar shape, with long, bottle necks, were
easily converted into musical instruments. Every now and then a cry
of ‘Fire!’ in the middle of the night enlivened the _ennui_ of our
existence. The huts were littered deep with straw, and the inmates,
intoxicated, frequently fell asleep with their huge pipes lighted,
which, falling in the dry straw, at once occasioned a conflagration.
In such cases the flames spread from hut to hut with immense rapidity,
and frequently four or five hundred huts in Kamrasi’s large camp were
destroyed by fire, and rebuilt in a few days. I was anxious concerning
my powder, as, in the event of fire, the blaze of the straw hut was so
instantaneous that nothing could be saved; should my powder explode, I
should be entirely defenceless. Accordingly, after a conflagration in
my neighborhood, I insisted on removing all huts within a circuit of
thirty yards of my dwelling. The natives demurring, I at once ordered
my men to pull down the houses, and thereby relieved myself from
drunken and dangerous neighbors.”
The condition of the women in Unyoro is not at all agreeable, as indeed
may be inferred from the brief mention of the hard work which they
have to perform. They are watched very carefully by their husbands,
and beaten severely if they ever venture outside the palisades after
sunset. For unfaithfulness, the punishment seems to be left to the
aggrieved husband, who sometimes demands a heavy fine, sometimes cuts
off a foot or a hand, and sometimes inflicts the punishment of death.
Dirty as are the Wanyoro in some things, in others they are very
neat and clean. They are admirable packers, and make up the neatest
imaginable parcels. Some of these parcels are surrounded with the bark
of the plantain, and some with the pith or interior of a reed, from
which the outside has been carefully stripped, so as to leave a number
of snow-white cylinders. These are laid side by side, and bound round
the object, producing a singularly pretty effect. Little mats, formed
of shreds of these reeds, are very much used, especially as covers to
beer jars. When a M’yoro is on the march, he always carries with him a
gourd full of plantain wine. The mouth of the gourd is stopped with a
bundle of these reed-shreds, through which passes a tube, so that the
traveller can always drink without checking his pace, and without any
danger of spilling the liquid as he walks.
In their diet the Wanyoro make great use of the plantain, and it is
rather remarkable that, in a land which abounds with this fruit, it
is hardly possible to procure one in a ripe state, the natives always
eating them while still green. The plantain tree is to the Wanyoro the
chief necessity of existence, as it affords them means for supplying
all the real wants of life. Sometimes the plantain is boiled and
eaten as a vegetable, and sometimes it is dried and ground into meal,
which is used in making porridge. The fruit is also peeled, cut into
slices, and dried in the sun, so as to be stowed away for future
consumption, and from this dried plantain the Wanyoro make a palatable
and nutritious soup. Wine, or rather beer, is made from the same fruit,
which thus supplies both food and drink.
The tree itself is most useful, the leaves being split into shreds,
and woven into cloth of remarkable elegance, and the bark is stripped
off, and employed like paper in wrapping up parcels of the meal. Strong
ropes and the finest thread are twisted from the plantain fibre, and
the natives are clever at weaving ornamental articles, which look
so like hair, that a very close inspection is needful to detect the
difference. In all these manufactures the Wanyoro show a neatness of
hand and delicacy of taste that contrast strangely with the slovenly,
careless, and repulsive habits of their daily life.
Curdled milk is much used by the natives, who employ it in fattening
their wives and daughters, but, unlike the Arabs, they will not mix red
pepper with it, believing that those who eat the capsicum will never be
blessed with children. Butter is used as an unguent, and not for food,
and the natives are very much scandalized at seeing the white visitors
eat it. According to the custom of their nation, they once played a
clever trick. Butter is packed most carefully in leaves, a little bit
being allowed to project as a sample. One day the natives brought some
butter to their white visitors, but as it was quite rancid it was
rejected. They took it away, and then brought a fresh supply, which was
approved and purchased. But, when the wrapper was taken off, it was
found that the butter was the same that had been refused, the natives
having put a little piece of fresh butter at the top. Itinerant
cheesemongers play very similar tricks at the present day, plugging a
totally uneatable cheese with bits of best Cheshire, and scooping out
the plugs by way of sample.
As to religion, the Wanyoro have none at all. They are full of
superstition, but, as far as is known, they have not the least idea
of a religion which can exercise any influence on the actions. In
common with most uncivilized people, they make much of each new moon,
this being the unit by which they reckon their epochs, and salute the
slender crescent by profuse dancing and gesticulation.
They have a wonderful faith in demons, with whom the prophets or
wizards aver that they hold communication. Some of their guesses at
the future occasionally come true. For example, one of the men of the
expedition was said to be possessed by a demon, who told him that the
expedition would succeed, but that the demon required one man’s life
and another man’s illness. This prediction was literally accomplished,
one of the escort being murdered, and Captain Grant falling seriously
ill. Again the same man saw the demon, who said that in Uganda one
man’s life would be required, and accordingly Kari, a man belonging to
the expedition, was murdered. A third time, when in Unyoro, he saw the
demon, who said that no more lives were needed, but that the expedition
would succeed, though it would be protracted. And such eventually
proved to be the case.
The magicians lay claim to one most valuable power,--namely, that of
finding lost articles. On one occasion Captain Speke saw the whole
process. A rain-gauge and its bottle had been stolen, and every one
disclaimed knowledge of it. A sorcerer was therefore summoned to find
the missing article. The following account of the proceeding is given
by Captain Speke:--
“At 9 A. M., the time for measuring the fall of rain for the last
twenty-four hours, we found the rain-gauge and bottle had been removed,
so we sent to Kidgwiga to inform the king we wished his magicians
to come at once and institute a search for it. Kidgwiga immediately
returned with the necessary adept, an old man, nearly blind, dressed in
strips of old leather fastened to the waist, and carrying in one hand
a cow’s horn primed with magic powder, carefully covered on the mouth
with leather, from which dangled an iron bell.”
The curious scene now to be described the artist has reproduced in the
engraving No. 2 on page 417.
“The old creature jingled the bell, entered our hut, squatted on his
hams, looked first at one, then at the other--inquired what the missing
things were like, grunted, moved his skinny arm round his head, as if
desirous of catching air from all four sides of the hut, then dashed
the accumulated air on the head of his horn, smelt it to see if all
was going right, jingled the bell again close to his ear, and grunted
his satisfaction; the missing articles must be found. To carry out the
incantation more effectually, however, all my men were sent for to sit
in the open air before the hut, but the old doctor rose, shaking the
horn and tinkling the bell close to his ear. He then, confronting one
of the men, dashed the horn forward as if intending to strike him on
the face, then smelt the head, then dashed at another, and so on, till
he became satisfied that my men were not the thieves.
“He then walked into Grant’s hut, inspected that, and finally went to
the place where the bottle had been kept. Then he walked about the
grass with his arm up, and jingling the bell to his ear, first on one
side, then on the other, till the track of a hyæna gave him the clue
and in two or three more steps he found it. A hyæna had carried it into
the grass and dropped it. Bravo, for the infallible horn! and well done
the king for his honesty in sending it! so I gave the king the bottle
and gauge, which delighted him amazingly; and the old doctor, who
begged for pombé, got a goat for his trouble.”
As in Uganda, the sorcerers are distinguished by the odd ornaments
which they wear; dried roots, lizards, lions’ claws, crocodiles’ teeth,
little tortoise shells, and other objects being strung together and
tied on their heads. There is also an order of religious mendicants
called “Bandwa,” both sexes being eligible to the office. They are
distinguished by an abundance of ornaments, such as bits of shining
metal, and little tinkling bells, and one man had distinguished himself
greatly by wearing the skin of a long-haired monkey down his back from
the top of his head, to which he had attached a couple of antelope
horns. The women when dressed in the full robes of office look very
handsome, being clothed in colored skins, and wearing turbans made of
the plaintain bark. They walk about from house to house singing their
peculiar songs, and always expecting a present. The office of a Bandwa
is not hereditary, for any one may join them by undergoing certain
ceremonies, and the children of a Bandwa are at liberty to follow any
business that they may happen to like. Although they are mendicants,
they do not wholly depend on their profession, having cattle and other
property of their own.
In many countries where superstition takes the place of religion, the
birth of twins is looked upon as a bad omen, which must be averted by
the sacrifice of one or both of the children. In Unyoro the case is
different. Captain Speke had been annoyed by certain drums and other
musical instruments which were played day and night without cessation,
and, when he inquired as to their object, was told that they were in
honor of twins that had been born to Kamrasi, and that they would be
played in the same manner for four months.
The use of the cow’s horn in magic is explained by a tradition that
once upon a time there was a dog with a horn. When the dog died, the
horn was stuffed with magic powder, and was a powerful charm in war,
soldiers who stepped over it when on the march being thereby rendered
victorious. Kamrasi possessed several magic horns, and when he sent
an ambassador to a neighboring potentate, one of these horns was hung
round the man’s neck as his credentials; and when he returned, he
brought with him another magic horn as a proof that his message had
been delivered. No one dared to touch a man who bore so potent an
emblem, and this was peculiarly fortunate, as on one occasion Kamrasi
had sent an expedition which took with them six hundred majembé or iron
spades, which form a sort of currency, the expenditure of two majembé
per diem being sufficient to buy food for the whole party. Laden with
wealth therefore as they were, the magic horn protected the party, and
they performed their journey in safety.
War charms are in great request, and while Captain Speke was in Unyoro
he saw the preliminary act in charm making. A feud was in action
between Kamrasi and the Chopi tribe. Kamrasi therefore sent spies into
the Chopi district, with orders to bring some grass from the hut of a
chief. This they did, with the addition of a spear, much to Kamrasi’s
delight, who thought that the possession of this weapon would enable
him to bewitch the spears as well as the courage of his enemies, and so
prevent the weapons from hurting his tribe.
In order to ensure prosperity to their family, or to cure a sick
relative, the Wanyoro kill some animal, split it open, and lay it at
the intersection of two cross roads, such spot being held by them,
as by the Balonda, in great reverence. If the man is rich enough, he
sacrifices a goat, but, if not, a fowl will answer; and if a man is
very poor indeed, he makes a frog serve his purpose.
These people seem to have kept their burial ceremonies very secret, as
a funeral was never seen in Central Africa, but it is said that the
dead are buried near the house or in the cattle-fold, wrapped in bark
cloth or a cow-skin. When the king dies his body is first dried, and
then the lower jaw-bone is removed and buried by itself. Officers of
the palace are privileged to have their heads and hands treated in the
same manner.
CHAPTER XLI.
GANI, MADI, OBBO, AND KYTCH.
POSITION OF THE GANI TRIBE -- THEIR HOSPITABLE CHARACTER -- GANI
ARCHITECTURE -- SINGULAR MODE OF DRESS -- THE GANI QUEUE -- TOILET
MAKING IN PUBLIC -- THE MADI TRIBE -- CARE OF CHILDREN -- DRESS OF
THE WOMEN -- VARIOUS DANCES -- MADI VILLAGES -- ILL TREATMENT OF THE
NATIVES -- POSITION OF THE OBBO TRIBE -- GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE
NATIVES -- SINGULAR MODE OF DRESS -- KATCHIBA, THE OBBO CHIEF -- HIS
LARGE FAMILY -- HIS REPUTATION AS A SORCERER -- INGENIOUS ESCAPE
FROM A DILEMMA -- KATCHIBA’S PALACE -- A VISIT TO THE CHIEF -- HIS
HOSPITALITY AND GENEROUS CONDUCT -- CHARACTER OF KATCHIBA.
We now come to a large district about lat. 3° N. and long. 32° E.
This country is inhabited by a group of tribes, who are perhaps more
remarkable for their style of dress than any which we have yet noticed.
We will first take the GANI.
The Gani are a hospitable people, and, when Captains Speke and Grant
passed through their country, received them with great kindness, even
though they had never seen white men before, and might be expected to
take alarm at an armed party penetrating into their land.
One day, when Captain Grant was walking in search of plants, he was
hailed by a native, who contrived to make him understand that he wished
to conduct the white man. He was very polite to his guest, acting as
pioneer, beating down the thorny branches that obstructed the path, and
pointing out the best places for crossing rocks. He evidently thought
that Captain Grant had lost his way, and so guided him back to the
camp, previously leaving his spear in a hut, because to appear armed in
the presence of a superior is contrary to their system of etiquette.
The mode of welcome was rather remarkable. The old chief of the village
advanced to meet the strangers, accompanied by his councillors and a
number of women, one of whom carried a white chicken, and the others
beer and a bunch of a flowering plant. When the two parties met, the
chief, whose name was Chongi, took the fowl by one leg, stooped, and
swung it backward and forward close to the ground, and then passed it
to his male attendants, who did the same thing. He then took a gourd
full of beer, dipped the plant in it, and sprinkled the liquid over his
guests, and then spread cow-skins under a tree by way of couches, on
which his guests might repose. They were next presented with a supply
of beer, which was politely called water.
The villages of the Gani are extremely neat, and consist of a quantity
of huts built round a flat cleared space which is kept exceedingly
smooth and neat. In the middle of this space are one or two miniature
huts made of grass, and containing idols, and a few horns are laid
near them. When the Gani lay out plans for a new village, they mostly
allow one large tree to remain in the centre of the cleared space, and
under its shade the inhabitants assemble and receive their guests. The
houses are shaped like beehives, are very low, and composed simply of a
mud wall, and a roof made of bamboo thatched with grass. The doors are
barely two feet high, but the supple-bodied Gani, who have never been
encumbered with clothes, can walk through the aperture with perfect
ease. The floor is made of clay beaten hard, and is swept with great
care. Cow-skins are spread on the floor by way of beds, and upon these
the Gani sleep without any covering.
Close to the huts are placed the grain stores, which are very
ingeniously made. First, a number of rude stone pillars are set in a
circle, having flat stones laid on their tops, much resembling the
remains of Stonehenge. Upon these is secured an enormous cylinder of
basket work plastered with clay, the top of which is covered with a
conical roof of bamboo and grass. When a woman wishes to take grain out
of the storehouse, she places against it a large branch from which the
smaller boughs have been cut, leaving stumps of a foot or ten inches in
length, and by means of this rude ladder she easily ascends to the roof.
The appearance of this tribe is most remarkable, as they use less
clothing and more ornament than any people at present known. We will
begin with the men. Their dress is absolutely nothing at all as far
as covering the body is concerned, but, as if to compensate for this
nudity, there is scarcely a square inch of the person without its
adornment. In the first place, they use paint as a succedaneum for
dress, and cover themselves entirely with colors, not merely rubbing
themselves over with one tint, but using several colors, and painting
themselves in a wonderful variety of patterns, many of them showing
real artistic power, while others are simply grotesque.
Two young men who came as messengers from Chongi had used three colors.
They had painted their faces white, the pigment being wood ashes, and
their bodies were covered with two coats of paint, the first purple,
and the second ashen gray. This latter coat they had scraped off in
irregular patterns, just as a painter uses his steel comb when graining
wood, so that the purple appeared through the gray, and looked much
like the grain of mahogany. Some of the men cover their bodies with
horizontal stripes, like those of the zebra, or with vertical stripes
running along the curve of the spine and limbs, or with zigzag markings
of light colors. Some very great dandies go still further, and paint
their bodies chequer fashion, exactly like that of a harlequin. White
always plays a large part in their decorations, and is often applied in
broad bands round the waist and neck.
The head is not less gorgeously decorated. First the hair is teased
out with a pin, and is then dressed with clay so as to form it into a
thick felt-like mass. This is often further decorated with pipe-clay
laid on in patterns, and at the back of the neck is inserted a piece
of sinew about a foot in length. This odd-looking queue is turned up,
and finished off at the tip with a tuft of fur, the end of a leopard’s
tail being the favorite ornament. Shells, beads, and other ornaments
are also woven into the hair, and in most cases a feather is added by
way of a finishing touch. The whole contour of the headdress is exactly
like that of the pantaloon of the stage, and the sight of a man with
the body of a harlequin and the head of a pantaloon is too much for
European gravity to withstand.
Besides all this elaborate decoration, the men wear a quantity of
bracelets, anklets; and earrings. The daily toilet of a Gani dandy
occupies a very long time, and in the morning the men may be seen in
numbers sitting under the shade of trees, employed in painting their
own bodies or dressing the hair of a friend, and applying paint where
he would not be able to guide the brush. As may be inferred, they
are exceedingly vain of their personal appearance; and when their
toilet is completed, they strut about in order to show themselves, and
continually _pose_ themselves in attitudes which they think graceful,
but which might be characterized as conceited.
Each man usually carries with him an odd little stool with one leg,
and instead of sitting on the ground, as is done by most savages, the
Gani make a point of seating themselves on these little stools, which
look very like those which are used by Swiss herdsmen when they milk
the cows, and only differ from them in not being tied to the body. The
engraving No. 1 on page 431 will help the reader to understand this
description.
The women are not nearly such votaries of fashion as their husbands,
principally because they have to work and to nurse the children, who
would make short work of any paint that they might use. Like the
parents, the children have no clothes, and are merely suspended in a
rather wide strap passing over one shoulder of the mother and under the
other. As, however, the rays of the sun might be injurious to them, a
large gourd is cut in two pieces, hollowed out, and one of the pieces
inverted over the child’s head and shoulders.
The Gani have cattle, but are very poor herdsmen, and have suffered the
herd to deteriorate in size and quality. They cannot even drive their
cattle properly, each cow recognizing a special driver, who grasps the
tail in one hand and a horn in the other, and thus drags and pushes the
animal along.
THE MADI TRIBE.
Not very far from the Gani are situated the MADI tribe. They are
dressed, or rather undressed, in a somewhat similar fashion. (See
engraving on page 431.) The women are very industrious, and are
remarkable for the scrupulously neat and clean state in which they keep
their huts. Every morning the women may be seen sweeping out their
houses, or kneeling in front of the aperture which serves as a door,
and patting and smoothing the space in front of the doorway. They are
also constantly employed in brewing beer, grinding corn, and baking
bread.
[Illustration: (1.) GROUP OF GANI AND MADI. (See page 430.)]
[Illustration: (2.) REMOVAL OF A VILLAGE. (See page 434.)]
They take great care of their children, washing them daily with warm
water, and then, as they have no towels, licking them dry as a cat
does with her kittens. When the child is washed and dried, the mother
produces some fat with which vermilion has been mixed, and rubs it over
the child’s body until it is all red and shining. The next process is
to lay the child on its back upon a goatskin, the corners of which are
then gathered up and tied together so as to form a cradle. Should the
mother be exceedingly busy, she hangs the cradle on a peg or the branch
of a tree, the child offering no objection to this treatment.
The dress of the women consists of a petticoat reaching a little below
the knees, but they often dispense with this article of dress, and
content themselves with a few leathern thongs in front, and another
cluster of thongs behind. In default of leathern thongs, a bunch of
chickweed answers every purpose of dress. They wear iron rings round
their arms above the elbow, and generally have a small knife stuck
between the rings and the arm.
They are fond of wearing little circular disks cut from a univalve
shell. These shells are laid out to bleach on the tops of the huts,
and, when whitened, are cut into circles about as large as fourpenny
pieces, each having a hole bored through the middle. They are then
strung together and worn as belts, and have also the advantage of being
used as coin with which small articles of food, as fruit or beer, could
be purchased. The men are in the habit of wearing ornaments made of the
tusks of the wild boar. The tusks are tied on the arm above the elbow,
and contrast well with the naturally dark hue of the skin and the
brilliant colors with which it is mostly painted.
Whenever a child is born, the other women assemble round the hut of
the mother, and make a hideous noise by way of congratulation. Drums
are beaten violently, songs are sung, hands are clapped, gratulatory
sentences are yelled out at the full stretch of the voice, while a wild
and furious dance acts as an accompaniment to the noise. As soon as
the mother has recovered, a goat is killed, and she steps backward and
forward over its body. One of the women, the wife of the commandant,
went through a very curious ceremony when she had recovered her health
after her child was born. She took a bunch of dry grass, and lighted
it, and then passed it from hand to hand three times round her body
while she walked to the left of the door. Another grass tuft was then
lighted, and she went through a similar performance as she walked to
the front of the door, and the process was again repeated as she walked
to the right.
The dances of the Madi are rather variable. The congratulatory dance is
performed by jumping up and down without any order, flinging the legs
and arms about, and flapping the ribs with the elbows. The young men
have a dance of their own, which is far more pleasing than that of the
women. Each takes a stick and a drum, and they arrange themselves in a
circle, beating the drums, singing, and converging to the centre, and
then retiring again in exact time with the rhythm of the drumbeats.
Sometimes there is a grand general dance, in which several hundred
performers take part. “Six drums of different sizes, slung upon poles,
were in the centre; around these was a moving mass of people, elbowing
and pushing one another as at a fair; and outside them a ring of
girls, women, and infants faced an outer circle of men sounding horns
and armed with spears and clubs, their heads ornamented with ostrich
feathers, helmets of the cowrie shell, &c. Never had I seen such a
scene of animated savage life, nor heard a more savage noise. As the
two large circles of both sexes jumped simultaneously to the music, and
moved round at every leap, the women sang and jingled their masses of
bracelets, challenging and exciting the men, forcing them to various
acts of gallantry, while our Seedees joined in the dance, and no doubt
touched many a fair breast.”
The weapons of the Madi are spears and bows and arrows. The spears are
about six feet long, with bamboo shafts, and with an iron spike at the
butt for the purpose of sticking it in the ground. They are better
archers than the generality of African tribes, and amuse themselves
by setting up marks, and shooting at them from a distance of forty or
fifty yards. The arrows are mostly poisoned, and always so when used
for war.
The villages of the Madi are constructed in a very neat manner, the
floors being made of a kind of red clay beaten hard and smoothed. The
thresholds of the doors are of the same material, but are paved with
pieces of broken earthenware pressed into the clay, and ingeniously
joined so as to form a kind of pattern. In order to prevent cattle from
entering the huts, movable bars of bamboo are generally set across the
entrance. The villages are enclosed with a fence, and the inhabitants
never allow the sick to reside within the enclosure. They do not merely
eject them, as they do in some parts of Africa, but build a number of
huts outside the walls by way of a hospital.
The roofs of the huts are cleverly made of bamboo and grass, and upon
them is lavished the greater part of the labor of house-building. If
therefore the Madi are dissatisfied with the position of a village,
or find that neighboring tribes are becoming troublesome, they quietly
move off to another spot, carrying with them the most important part
of their houses, namely, the roofs, which are so light that a few men
can carry them. A village on the march presents a most curious and
picturesque spectacle, the roofs of the huts carried on the heads of
four or five men, the bamboo stakes borne by others, while some are
driving the cattle, and the women are carrying their children and their
simple household furniture. The engraving No. 2 on page 431 represents
such a removal.
The Turkish caravans that occasionally pass through the country are the
chief cause of these migrations, as they treat the Madi very roughly.
When they come to a village, they will not take up their abode inside
it, but carry off the roofs of the huts and form a camp with them
outside the enclosure. They also rob the corn-stores, and, if the
aggrieved owner ventures to remonstrate, he is knocked down by the
butt of a musket, or threatened with its contents. In some parts of
the country these men had behaved so cruelly to the natives that, as
soon as the inhabitants of a village saw a caravan approaching, all the
women and children forsook their dwellings, and hid themselves in the
bush and grass.
THE OBBO.
We now come to OBBO, a district situated in lat. 4° 55´ N. and long.
31° 45´ E. Sir S. Baker spent a considerable time in Obbo,--much more,
indeed, than was desirable,--and in consequence learned much of the
peculiarities of the inhabitants.
In some respects the natives look something like the Gani and Madi,
especially in their fondness for paint, their disregard of clothing,
and the mode in which they dress their heads. In this last respect
they are even more fastidious than the tribes which have been just
mentioned, some of them having snowy white wigs descending over their
shoulders, and finished off with the curved and tufted pigtail. The
shape of the Obbo headdress has been happily compared to that of a
beaver’s tail, it being wide and flat, and thicker in the middle
than at the edges. The length of this headdress is not owing to the
wearer’s own hair, but is produced by the interweaving of hair from
other sources. If, for example, a man dies, his hair is removed by
his relations, and woven with their headdresses as a souvenir of the
departed, and an addition to their ornaments. They also make caps of
shells, strung together and decorated with feathers; and instead of
clothing they wear a small skin slung over one shoulder.
The men have an odd fashion of wearing round their necks several thick
iron rings, sometimes as many as six or eight, all brightly polished,
and looking like a row of dog collars. Should the wearer happen to
become stout, these rings press so tightly on his throat that he is
nearly choked. They also are fond of making tufts of cow’s tails,
which they suspend from their arms just above the elbows. The most
fashionable ornaments, however, are made of horse tails, the hairs
of which are also highly prized for stringing beads. Consequently, a
horse’s tail is an article of considerable value, and in Obbo-land a
cow can be purchased for a horse’s tail in good condition.
Paint is chiefly used as a kind of war uniform. The colors which the
natives use are vermilion, yellow, and white, but the particular
pattern is left much to their own invention. Stripes of alternate
scarlet and yellow, or scarlet and white, seem, however, to form the
ordinary pattern, probably because they are easily drawn, and present a
bold contrast of color. The head is decorated with a kind of cap made
of cowrie shells, to which are fixed several long ostrich plumes that
droop over the shoulders.
Contrary to usual custom, the women are less clad than the men, and,
until they are married, wear either no clothing whatever, or only three
or four strings of white-beads, some three inches in length. Some of
the prudes, however, tie a piece of string round their waists, and
stick in it a little leafy branch, with the stalk uppermost. “One great
advantage was possessed by this costume. It was always clean and fresh,
and the nearest bush (if not thorny) provided a clean petticoat. When
in the society of these very simple, and, in demeanor, always modest
Eves, I could not help reflecting upon the Mosaical description of
our first parents.” Married women generally wear a fringe of leathern
thongs, about four inches long and two wide. Old women mostly prefer
the leaf branch to the leathern fringe. When young they are usually
pretty, having well-formed noses, and lips but slightly partaking of
the negro character. Some of the men remind the spectators of the
Somauli.
Katchiba, the chief of Obbo, was rather a fine-looking man, about sixty
years of age, and was a truly remarkable man, making up by craft the
lack of force, and ruling his little kingdom with a really firm, though
apparently lax, grasp. In the first place, having a goodly supply of
sons, he made them all into sub-chiefs of the many different districts
into which he divided his domains. Owing to the great estimation
in which he was held by his people, fresh wives were continually
being presented to him, and at first he was rather perplexed by the
difficulty of accommodating so many in his palace. At last he hit on
the expedient of distributing them in the various villages through
which he was accustomed to make his tour, so that wherever he was he
found himself at home.
It so happened that when Sir S. Baker visited Katchiba he had one
hundred and sixteen children living. This may not seem to be a very
wonderful fact when the number of his wives is considered. But, in
Africa, plurality of wives does not necessarily imply a corresponding
number of children, several of these many-wived chiefs having only one
child to every ten or twelve wives. Therefore the fact that Katchiba’s
family was so very large raised him greatly in the minds of his people,
who looked upon him as a great sorcerer, and had the most profound
respect for his supernatural power.
Katchiba laid claim to intercourse with the unseen world, and to
authority over the elements; rain and drought, calm and tempest, being
supposed by his subjects to be equally under his command. Sometimes, if
the country had been afflicted with drought beyond the usual time of
rain, Katchiba would assemble his people, and deliver a long harangue,
inveighing against their evil doings, which had kept off the rain.
These evil doings, on being analyzed, generally proved to be little
more than a want of liberality toward himself. He explained to them
that he sincerely regretted their conduct, which “has compelled him
to afflict them with unfavorable weather, but that it is their own
fault. If they are so greedy and so stingy that they will not supply
him properly, how can they expect him to think of their interests? No
goats, no rain; that’s our contract, my friends,” says Katchiba. “Do
as you like: _I_ can wait; I hope you can.” Should his people complain
of too much rain, he threatens to pour storms and lightning upon them
forever, unless they bring him so many hundred baskets of corn, &c.,
&c. Thus he holds his sway.
“No man would think of starting on a journey without the blessing of
the old chief, and a peculiar ‘hocus-pocus’ is considered necessary
from the magic hands of Katchiba, that shall charm the traveller, and
preserve him from all danger of wild animals upon the road. In case
of sickness he is called in, not as M. D. in our acceptation, but as
Doctor of Magic, and he charms both the hut and patient against death,
with the fluctuating results that must attend professionals, even in
sorcery. His subjects have the most thorough confidence in his power;
and so great is his reputation, that distant tribes frequently consult
him, and beg his assistance as a magician. In this manner does old
Katchiba hold his sway over his savage but credulous people; and so
long has he imposed upon the public, that I believe he has at length
imposed upon himself, and that he really believes that he has the power
of sorcery, notwithstanding repeated failures.”
Once, while Sir S. Baker was in the country, Katchiba, like other
rain-makers, fell into a dilemma. There had been no rain for a long
time, and the people had become so angry at the continued drought, that
they assembled round his house, blowing horns, and shouting execrations
against their chief, because he had not sent them a shower which would
allow them to sow their seed. True to his policy, the crafty old man
made light of their threats, telling them that they might kill him if
they liked, but that, if they did so, no more rain would ever fall.
Rain in the country was the necessary result of goats and provisions
given to the chief, and, as soon as he got the proper fees, the rain
should come. The rest of the story is so good, that it must be told in
the author’s own words.
“With all this bluster, I saw that old Katchiba was in a great dilemma,
and that he would give anything for a shower, but that he did not know
how to get out of the scrape. It was a common freak of the tribes to
sacrifice their rain-maker, should he be unsuccessful. He suddenly
altered his tone, and asked, ‘Have you any rain in your country?’ I
replied that we had every now and then. ‘How do you bring it? Are
you a rain-maker?’ I told him that no one believed in rain-makers
in our country, but that we knew how to bottle lightning (meaning
electricity). ‘I don’t keep mine in bottles, but I have a house full of
thunder and lightning,’ he most coolly replied; ‘but if you can bottle
lightning, you must understand rain-making. What do you think of the
weather to-day?’
“I immediately saw the drift of the cunning old Katchiba; he wanted
professional advice. I replied that he must know all about it, as he
was a regular rain-maker. ‘Of course I do,’ he answered; ‘but I want
to know what _you_ think of it.’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I don’t think we
shall have any steady rain, but I think we may have a heavy shower
in about four days’ (I said this, as I had observed fleecy clouds
gathering daily in the afternoon). ‘Just my opinion,’ said Katchiba,
delighted. ‘In four, or perhaps in five, days I intend to give them one
shower--just one shower; yes. I’ll just step down to them, and tell the
rascals that if they will give me some goats by this evening, and some
corn by to-morrow morning, I will give them in four or five days just
one shower.’
“To give effect to his declaration, he gave several toots on his magic
whistle. ‘Do you use whistles in your country?’ inquired Katchiba.
I only replied by giving so shrill and deafening a whistle on my
fingers, that Katchiba stopped his ears, and, relapsing into a smile
of admiration, he took a glance at the sky from the doorway, to see
if any effect had been produced. ‘Whistle again,’ he said; and once
more I performed like the whistle of a locomotive. ‘That will do; we
shall have it,’ said the cunning old rain-maker; and, proud of having
so knowingly obtained ‘counsel’s opinion’ in his case, he toddled off
to his impatient subjects. In a few days a sudden storm of rain and
violent thunder added to Katchiba’s renown, and after the shower horns
were blowing and nogaras beating in honor of their chief. _Entre nous_,
my whistle was considered infallible.”
When his guests were lying ill in their huts, struck down with the
fever which is prevalent in hot and moist climates such as that of
Obbo, Katchiba came to visit them in his character of magician, and
performed a curious ceremony. He took a small leafy branch, filled his
mouth with water, and squirted it on the branch, which was then waved
about the hut, and lastly stuck over the door. He assured his sick
guests that their recovery was now certain; and, as they did recover,
his opinion of his magical powers was doubtless confirmed.
After their recovery they paid a visit to the chief, by his special
desire. His palace consisted of an enclosure about a hundred yards
in diameter, within which were a number of huts, all circular, but
of different sizes; the largest, which was about twenty-five feet in
diameter, belonging to the chief himself. The whole of the courtyard
was paved with beaten clay, and was beautifully clean, and the
palisades were covered with gourds and a species of climbing yam.
Katchiba had but little furniture, the chief articles being a few
cow-hides, which were spread on the floor and used as couches. On these
primitive sofas he placed his guests, and took his place between them.
The rest of his furniture consisted of earthen jars, holding about
thirty gallons each, and intended for containing or brewing beer.
After offering a huge gourdful of that beverage to his guests, and
having done ample justice to it himself, he politely asked whether he
should sing them a song. Now Katchiba, in spite of his gray hairs, his
rank as chief, and his dignity as a sorcer, was a notable buffoon,
a savage Grimaldi, full of inborn and grotesque fun, and so they
naturally expected that the performances would be, like his other
exhibitions, extremely ludicrous. They were agreeably disappointed.
Taking from the hand of one of his wives a “rababa,” or rude harp
with eight strings, he spent some time in tuning it, and then sang
the promised song. The air was strange and wild, but plaintive and
remarkably pleasing, with accompaniment very appropriate, so that this
“delightful old sorcerer” proved himself to be a man of genius in music
as well as in policy.
When his guests rose to depart, he brought them a sheep as a present;
and when they refused it, he said no more, but waited on them through
the doorway of his hut, and then conducted them by the hand for about
a hundred yards, gracefully expressing a hope that they would repeat
their visit. When they reached their hut, they found the sheep there,
Katchiba having sent it on before them. In fine, this chief, who at
first appeared to be little more than a jovial sort of buffoon, who by
accident happened to hold the chief’s place, turned out unexpectedly to
be a wise and respected ruler, a polished and accomplished gentleman.
THE KYTCH.
Not far from Obbo-land there is a district inhabited by the KYTCH
tribe. In 1825 there was exhibited in the principal cities of Europe a
Frenchman, named Claude Ambroise Seurat, who was popularly called the
“Living Skeleton,” on account of his extraordinary leanness, his body
and limbs looking just as if a skeleton had been clothed with skin, and
endowed with life. Among the Kytch tribe he would have been nothing
remarkable, almost every man being formed after much the same model. In
fact, as Sir S. Baker remarked of them, they look at a distance like
animated slate-pencils with heads to them. The men of the Kytch tribe
are tall, and, but for their extreme emaciation, would be fine figures;
and the same may be said of the women. These physical peculiarities are
shown in the engraving No. 1 on the next page.
Almost the only specimens of the Kytch tribe who had any claim to
rounded forms were the chief and his daughter, the latter of whom was
about sixteen, and really good-looking. In common with the rest of the
tribe she wore nothing except a little piece of dressed hide about a
foot square, which was hung over one shoulder and fell upon the arm,
the only attempt at clothing being a belt of jingling iron circlets,
and some beads on the head.
[Illustration: (1.) GROUP OF THE KYTCH TRIBE. (See page 436.)]
[Illustration: (2.) NEAM-NAM FIGHTING. (See page 443.)]
Her father wore more clothing than his inferiors, though his raiment
was more for show than for use, being merely a piece of dressed leopard
skin hung over his shoulders as an emblem of his rank. He had on his
head a sort of skull-cap made of white beads, from which drooped a
crest of white ostrich feathers. He always carried with him a curious
instrument,--namely, an iron spike about two feet in length, with a
hollow socket at the butt, the centre being bound with snake skin. In
the hollow butt he kept his tobacco, so that this instrument served at
once the offices of a tobacco box, a dagger, and a club.
It is hardly possible to conceive a more miserable and degraded set of
people than the Kytch tribe, and, were it not for two circumstances,
they might be considered as the very lowest examples of humanity.
For their food they depend entirely upon the natural productions of the
earth, and pass a life which is scarcely superior to that of a baboon,
almost all their ideas being limited to the discovery of their daily
food. From the time when they wake to the hour when they sleep, they
are incessantly looking for food. Their country is not a productive
one; they never till the ground, and never sow seed; so that they are
always taking from the ground, and never putting anything into it. They
eat almost every imaginable substance, animal and vegetable, thinking
themselves very fortunate if they ever find the hole of a field-mouse,
which they will painfully dig out with the aid of a stick, and then
feed luxuriously upon it.
So ravenous are they, that they eat bones and skin as well as flesh;
and if by chance they should procure the body of an animal so large
that its bones cannot be eaten whole, the Kytch break the bones to
fragments between two stones, then pound them to powder, and make the
pulverized bones into a sort of porridge. In fact, as has been forcibly
remarked, if an animal is killed, or dies a natural death, the Kytch
tribe do not leave enough for a fly to feed upon.
The two facts that elevate the Kytch tribe above the level of the
beasts are, that they keep cattle, and that they have a law regarding
marriage, which, although repugnant to European ideas, is still a law,
and has its parallel in many countries which are far more advanced in
civilization.
The cattle of the Kytch tribe are kept more for show than for use, and,
unless they die, they are never used as food. A Kytch cattle-owner
would nearly as soon kill himself, and quite as soon murder his nearest
relation, as he would slaughter one of his beloved cattle. The milk
of the one is, of course, a singular luxury in so half-starved a
country, and none but the wealthiest men are likely ever to taste it.
The animals are divided into little herds, and to each herd there is
attached a favorite bull, which seems to be considered as possessing
an almost sacred character. Every morning, as the cattle are led out
to pasture, the sacred bull is decorated with bunches of feathers tied
to his horns, and, if possible, with little bells also. He is solemnly
adjured to take great care of the cows, to keep them from straying, and
to lead them to the best pastures, so that they may give abundance of
milk.
The law of marriage is a very peculiar one. Polygamy is, of course,
the custom in Kytch-land, as in other parts of Africa, the husband
providing himself with a succession of young wives as the others become
old and feeble, and therefore unable to perform the hard work which
falls to the lot of African wives. Consequently, it mostly happens
that when a man is quite old and infirm he has a number of wives much
younger than himself, and several who might be his grandchildren. Under
these circumstances, the latter are transferred to his eldest son, and
the whole family live together harmoniously, until the death of the
father renders the son absolute master of all the property.
CHAPTER XLII.
THE NEAM-NAM, DÔR, AND DJOUR TRIBES.
LOCALITY OF THE NEAM-NAM TRIBE -- THEIR WARLIKE NATURE -- A SINGULAR
RECEPTION -- EFFECT OF FIRE-ARMS -- DRESS AND GENERAL APPEARANCE
OF THE NEAM-NAM TRIBE -- MODE OF HUNTING ELEPHANTS -- REMARKABLE
WEAPONS -- THE DÔR TRIBE AND ITS SUBDIVISIONS -- WEAPONS OF THE DÔR
-- A REMARKABLE POUCH OR QUIVER -- THE ARROWS AND THEIR TERRIBLE
BARBS -- A DÔR BATTLE -- TREATMENT OF DEAD ENEMIES -- “DROPPING
DOWN” UPON THE ELEPHANT -- DRESS OF THE DÔR -- THE LIP-ORNAMENT --
THEIR ARCHITECTURE -- CURIOUS APPROACH TO THE VILLAGE -- THE WOODEN
CHIEFS AND THEIR FOLLOWERS -- MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS -- THE DJOUR TRIBE
-- ABSENCE OF CATTLE -- THE TSETSE-FLY -- METALLURGY -- INGENIOUS
SMELTING FURNACE -- WOMEN’S KNIVES -- EXTENSIVE TRAFFIC -- SMOKING --
THE BARK “QUIDS.”
Just over the Equator, and in the Nile district, is a very remarkable
tribe called the NEAM-NAM. They are a fierce and warlike people, and
aggressive toward all the surrounding tribes, making incursions into
their territories, and carrying off their children into slavery.
Consequently they are held in the utmost dread, and the lands that
surround the Neam-Nam borders are left uncultivated, no one daring to
occupy them for fear of their terrible neighbors. The Neam-Nam seem not
only to have firmly established themselves, but even to have gradually
extended their boundaries, their neighbors falling farther and farther
back at each successive raid.
When Mr. Petherick passed through their country, many of his porters
could not be induced to enter the territory of such a terrible tribe,
even though protected by the white man’s weapons. Several of them
deserted on the way, and at last, when they were come in sight of the
first village, the rest flung down their loads and ran away, only the
interpreter being secured.
As they neared the village, the menacing sound of the alarm drum was
heard, and out came the Neam-Nams in full battle array, their lances in
their right hands and their large shields covering their bodies. They
drew up in line, and seemed disposed to dispute the passage; but as
the party marched quietly and unconcernedly onward, they opened their
ranks and allowed them to enter the village, from which the women and
children had already been removed. They then seated themselves under
the shade of a large sycamore tree, deposited the baggage, and sat in
a circle round it, keeping on all sides a front to the armed natives,
who now began to come rather nearer than was agreeable, some actually
seating themselves on the traveller’s feet. They were all very merry
and jocose, pointing at their visitors continually, and then bursting
into shouts of approving laughter. There was evidently some joke which
tickled their fancy, and by means of the interpreter it was soon
discovered.
The fact was, that the Neam-Nam were cannibals, and meant to eat the
strangers who had so foolishly trusted themselves in the country
without either spears, swords, or shields, but they did not like
to kill them before their chief arrived. When this pleasant joke
was explained, the astonished visitors were nearly as amused as the
Neam-Nam, knowing perfectly well that their weapons were sufficient to
drive off ten times the number of such foes.
Presently the chief arrived--an old, gray-headed man, who, by his
sagacity, certainly showed himself worthy of the post which he held.
After a colloquy with the interpreter, he turned to his people, and the
following extraordinary discourse took place:--
“Neam-Nam, do not insult these strange men. Do you know whence they
come?”
“No; but we will feast on them,” was the rejoinder. Then the old man,
holding up his spear, and commanding silence, proceeded thus:
“Do you know of any tribe that would dare to approach our village in
such small numbers as these men have done?”
“No!” was again vociferated.
“Very well; you know not whence they come, nor do I, who am greatly
your senior, and whose voice you ought to respect. Their country must
indeed be distant, and to traverse the many tribes between their
country and ours ought to be a proof to you of their valor. Look at the
things they hold in their hands: they are neither spears, clubs, nor
bows and arrows, but inexplicable bits of iron mounted on wood. Neither
have they shields to defend their bodies from our weapons. Therefore,
to have travelled thus far, depend on it their means of resistance must
be as puzzling to us, and far superior to any arms that any tribe, ay,
even our own, can oppose to them. Therefore, Neam-Nam, I, who have led
you to many a fight, and whose counsels you have often followed, say,
shed not your blood in vain, nor bring disgrace upon your fathers,
who have never been vanquished. Touch them not, but prove yourselves
to be worthy of the friendship of such a handful of brave men, and do
yourselves honor by entertaining them, rather than degrade them by the
continuance of your insults.”
It is impossible not to admire the penetration of this chief, who was
wise enough to deduce the strength of his visitors from their apparent
weakness, and to fear them for those very reasons that caused his more
ignorant and impetuous people to despise them.
Having thus calmed the excitement, he asked to inspect the strange
weapons of his guests. A gun was handed to him--the cap having been
removed--and very much it puzzled him. From the mode in which it was
held, it was evidently not a club; and yet it could not be a knife, as
it had no edge; nor a spear, as it had no point. Indeed, the fact of
the barrel being hollow puzzled him exceedingly. At last he poked his
finger down the muzzle, and looked inquiringly at his guest, as if to
ask what could be the use of such an article. By way of answer, Mr.
Petherick took a gun, and, pointing to a vulture that was hovering over
their heads, fired, and brought it down.
“But before the bird touched the ground, the crowd were prostrate, and
grovelling in the dust, as if every man of them had been shot. The old
man’s head, with his hands on his ears, was at my feet; and when I
raised him, his appearance was ghastly, and his eyes were fixed on me
with a meaningless expression. I thought that he had lost his senses.
“After shaking him several times, I at length succeeded in attracting
his attention to the fallen bird, quivering in its last agonies
between two of his men. The first sign of returning animation he gave
was putting his hand to his head, and examining himself as if in
search of a wound. He gradually recovered, and, as soon as he could
regain his voice, called to the crowd, who one after the other first
raised their heads, and then again dropped them at the sight of their
apparently lifeless comrades. After the repeated call of the old man,
they ventured to rise, and a general inspection of imaginary wounds
commenced.”
This man, Mur-mangae by name, was only a sub-chief, and was inferior
to a very great chief, whose name was Dimoo. There is one single king
among the Neam-Nam, who are divided into a number of independent
sub-tribes, each ruled by its own chief, and deriving its importance
from its numbers. While they were recovering from the effect of the
shot, Dimoo himself appeared, and, after hearing the wonderful tale,
seemed inclined to discredit it, and drew up his men as if to attack.
Just then an elephant appeared in the distance, and he determined to
use the animal as a test, asking whether the white men’s thunder could
kill an elephant as well as a vulture, and that, if it could do so, he
would respect them. A party was at once despatched, accompanied by the
chief and all the savages. At the first volley down went most of the
Neam-Nam, including the chief, the rest running away as fast as their
legs could carry them.
After this event the whole demeanor of the people was changed from
aggressive insolence to humble respect, and they immediately showed
their altered feelings by sending large quantities of milk and porridge
for the party, and half a fat dog for Mr. Petherick’s own dinner. They
also began to open a trade, and were equally astonished and amused that
such common and useless things as elephants’ tusks could be exchanged
for such priceless valuables as beads, and were put in high good-humor
accordingly. Up to that time trade had been entirely unknown among the
Neam-Nam, and, though the people made great use of ivory in fashioning
ornaments for themselves, they never had thought of peaceful barter
with their neighbors, thinking that to rob was better than to exchange.
Dimoo, however, still retained some of his suspicious nature, which
showed itself in various little ways. At last Mr. Petherick invented
on the spur of the moment a plan by which he completely conquered
his host. Dimoo had taken an inordinate fancy for the tobacco of his
guests, and was always asking for some. As the supply was small, Mr.
Petherick did not like to make it still smaller, while, at the same
time, a refusal would have been impolitic. So, one day, when the usual
request was made, he acceded to it, at the same time telling Dimoo that
the tobacco was unsafe to smoke, because it always broke the pipes of
those who meditated treachery toward him.
Meanwhile, a servant, who had been previously instructed, filled
Dimoo’s pipe, at the same time inserting a small charge of gunpowder,
for which there was plenty of room, in consequence of the inordinate
size of the bowl. Dimoo took the pipe and began to smoke it defiantly,
when all at once an explosion took place, the bowl was shattered
to pieces, and Dimoo and his councillors tumbled over each other
in terror. Quite conquered by this last proof of the white man’s
omniscience, he humbly acknowledged that he did meditate treachery--not
against his person, but against his goods--and that his intention was
to detain the whole party until he had got possession of all their
property.
The appearance of the Neam-Nam tribe is very striking. They are not
quite black, but have a brown and olive tint of skin. The men are
better clothed than is usually the case in Central Africa, and wear a
homemade cloth woven from bark fibres. A tolerably large piece of this
cloth is slung round the body in such a way as to leave the arms at
liberty. The hair is plaited in thick masses, extending from the neck
to the shoulders.
In the operation of hair dressing they use long ivory pins, varying
from six to twelve or fourteen inches in length, and very slightly
curved. One end is smoothly pointed, and the other is much thicker, and
for some four inches is carved into various patterns, mostly of the
zigzag character which is so prevalent throughout Africa. When the hair
is fully combed out and arranged, two of the largest pins are stuck
through it horizontally, and a number of shorter pins are arranged in
a radiating form, so that they form a semi-circle, something like the
large comb of a Spanish lady.
One of these pins is now before me. It is just a foot in length, and
at the thick end is almost as large as a black-lead pencil, tapering
gradually to the other end. The butt, or base, is covered with a
multitude of scratches, which are thought to be ornamental, but which
look exactly as if they had been cut by a child who for the first time
had got hold of a knife, and they are stained black with a decoction of
some root.
The dress of the women consists partly of a piece of cloth such as has
been described, but of smaller dimensions, and, besides this, they
wear a rather curious apron made of leather. The one in my collection
somewhat resembles that of the Zulu apron, shown in “Articles of
Costume,” at page 33, fig. 3, but is not nearly so thick nor so heavy,
and indeed is made on a different plan. The top is a solid square of
thick leather doubled in the middle and then beaten flat. To both of
the edges has been firmly sewed a triple row of flat leathern thongs,
almost the eighth of an inch in width, and scarcely thicker than brown
paper. Six rows of these flat thongs are therefore attached to the
upper leather. All the ornament, simple as it is, is confined to the
front layer of thongs, and consists entirely of iron. Flat strips
of iron, evidently made by beating wire flat, are twisted round the
thongs and then hammered down upon them, while the end of each thong is
further decorated with a ring or loop of iron wire.
The centre of the solid leather is ornamented with a circular piece
of iron, boss-shaped, scratched round the edges, and having an iron
ring in its centre. The strap which supports the apron is fastened
to a couple of iron rings at the upper corners. In some aprons bead
ornaments take the place of the iron boss, but in almost every instance
there is an ornament of some kind. The women have also an ornament made
by cutting little flat pieces of ivory, and placing them on a strip
of leather, one over the other, like fish scales. This ornament is
worn as a necklace. They also carve pieces of ivory into a tolerable
imitation of cowrie-shells, and string them together as if they were
the veritable shells.
There is another ornament that exhibits a type of decoration which is
prevalent throughout the whole of Central Africa. It is composed of a
belt of stout leather--that of the hippopotamus being preferred, on
account of its strength and thickness--to which are attached a quantity
of empty nutshells. Through the upper end of the nut a hole is bored
with a redhot iron, and an iron ring passes through this hole and
another which has been punched through the leather. The shell is very
hard and thick, and, when the wearer dances with the energetic gestures
which accompany such performances, the nuts keep up a continual and
rather loud clatter.
The Neam-Nam all wear leathern sandals, and although their clothing is
so scanty, they are remarkable for their personal cleanliness, a virtue
which is so rare in Africa that it deserves commemoration whenever it
does occur.
As may already have been seen, the Neam-Nam are a cannibal race, and
always devour the bodies of slain enemies. This repulsive custom is not
restricted to enemies, but is extended to nearly all human beings with
whom they come in contact, their own tribe not proving any exception.
Mr. Petherick was told by themselves that when a Neam-Nam became old
and feeble, he was always killed and eaten, and that when any were at
the point of death, the same fate befell them.
Should one of their slaves run away and be captured, he is always
slain and eaten as a warning to other slaves. Such an event, however,
is of very rare occurrence, the slaves being treated with singular
kindness, and master and slave being mutually proud of each other.
Indeed, in many families the slaves are more valued than the children.
Indeed, much of the wealth of the Neam-Nam consists of slaves, and a
man measures his importance by the number of slaves whom he maintains.
All these slaves belong to some other tribe, and were captured by their
owners, so that they are living witnesses of prowess as well as signs
of wealth. They are never sold or bartered, and therefore a slave
dealer is not known among them, and they are spared one of the chief
curses of Africa. As a general rule, the slaves are so faithful, and
are so completely incorporated with the household to which they belong,
that in case of war they are armed, and accompany their masters to
battle.
The Neam-Nam are skilful hunters, and make great use of fire when
chasing the elephant. As they were desirous of procuring tusks to
exchange for Mr. Petherick’s beads, they anxiously awaited the first
rains, which would bring the elephants into their country.
“Successive showers followed, and, after a fortnight’s sojourn, a
herd of eighteen elephants was announced by beat of tom-tom, as being
in the vicinity. Old men, boys, women, and children, collected with
most sanguine expectations; and, anxious to witness the scene, I
accompanied the hunters. A finer body of well-grown and active men I
never beheld. The slaves, many of them from the Baer, but most of them
appertaining to unknown tribes from the west, were nearly black, and
followed their more noble-looking and olive-colored masters. Two hours’
march--the first part through cultivated grounds and the latter through
magnificent bush--brought us to the open plain, covered hip-deep with
dry grass, and there were the elephants marching leisurely toward us.
“The negroes, about five hundred, swift as antelopes, formed a vast
circle round them, and by their yells brought the huge game to a
standstill. As if by magic, the plain was on fire, and the elephants,
in the midst of the roar and crackling of the flames, were obscured
from our view by the smoke. Where I stood, and along the line, as far
as I could see, the grass was beaten down to prevent the outside of
the circle from being seized in the conflagration; and, in a short
time--not more than half an hour--the fire having exhausted itself,
the cloud of smoke, gradually rising, again displayed the group of
elephants standing as if petrified. As soon as the burning embers had
become sufficiently extinct, the negroes with a whoop closed from all
sides upon their prey. The fire and smoke had blinded them, and, unable
to defend themselves, they successively fell by the lances of their
assailants. The sight was grand, and, although their tusks proved a
rich prize, I was touched at the massacre.”
When the Neam-Nam warrior goes out to battle, he takes with him a
curious series of weapons. He has, of course, his lance, which is well
and strongly put together, the blade being leaf-shaped, like that of a
hog spear, only very much longer. On his left arm he bears his shield,
which is made of bark fibre, woven very closely together, and very
thick. The maker displays his taste in the patterns of the work, and in
those which he traces upon it with variously colored dyes. Within the
shield he has a sort of wooden handle, to which are attached one or two
most remarkable weapons.
One of these is wholly flat, the handle included, and is about the
thickness of an ordinary sword-blade. The projecting portions are all
edged, and kept extremely sharp, while the handle is rather thicker
than the blade, and is rounded and roughened, so as to afford a firm
grip to the hand. (See the “Neam-Nam Fight” on p. 437.)
When the Neam-Nam comes near his enemy, and before he is within range
of a spear thrust, he snatches one of these strange weapons from his
shield, and hurls it at the foe, much as an Australian flings his
boomerang, an American Indian his tomahawk, and a Sikh his chakra,
giving it a revolving motion as he throws it. Owing to this mode of
flinging, the weapon covers a considerable space, and if the projecting
blades come in contact with the enemy’s person, they are sure to
disable, if not to kill, him on the spot.
And as several of these are hurled in rapid succession, it is evident
that the Neam-Nam warrior is no ordinary foe, and that even the
possessor of fire-arms might in reality be overcome if taken by
surprise, for, as the “boomerangs” are concealed within the shield,
the first intimation of their existence would be given by their sharp
blades whirling successively through the air with deadly aim.
Besides the lance and the “boomerangs,” each Neam-Nam carries a
strangely-shaped knife in a leathern sheath, and oddly enough the
hilt is always downward. It is sharp at both edges, and is used as a
hand-to-hand weapon after the boomerangs have been thrown, and the
parties have come too close to use the spear effectually. From the
projection at the base of the blade a cord is tied loosely to the
handle, and the loop passed over the wrist, so as to prevent the
warrior from being disarmed.
Some of the Neam-Nam tribes use a very remarkable shield. It is
spindle-shaped, very long and very narrow, measuring only four or five
inches in breadth in the middle, and tapering to a point at either end.
In the middle a hole is scooped, large enough to contain the hand, and
a bar of wood is left so as to form a handle. This curious shield is
carried in the left hand, and is used to ward off the lances or arrows
of the enemy, which is done by giving it a smart twist.
In principle and appearance it resembles so closely the shield of the
native Australian, that it might easily be mistaken for one of those
weapons. Sometimes a warrior decorates his shield by covering it with
the skin of an antelope, wrapped round it while still wet, and then
sewed together in a line with the handle. The Shilloch and Dinka tribes
use similar weapons, but their shields are without the hollow guard for
the hand, and look exactly like bows without the strings.
Each warrior has also a whistle, or call, made of ivory or antelope’s
horn, which is used for conveying signals; and some of the officers, or
leaders, have large war trumpets, made of elephants’ tusks. One form of
these trumpets is seen in the illustration “Caboceer and soldiers,” on
page 564. The reader will observe that, as is usual throughout Africa,
they are sounded from the side, like a flute, and not from the end,
like ordinary trumpets.
Altogether Mr. Petherick passed a considerable time among this justly
dreaded tribe, and was so popular among them, that when he left the
country he was accompanied by crowds of natives, and the great chief
Dimoo not only begged him to return, but generously offered his
daughter as a wife in case the invitation were accepted, and promised
to keep her until wanted.
THE DÔR.
Passing by a number of small and comparatively insignificant tribes,
we come to the large and important tribe of the Dôr. Like all African
tribes of any pretence, it includes a great number of smaller or
sub-tribes, which are only too glad to be ranked among so important and
powerful a tribe, and, for the sake of belonging to it, they forego
their own individuality.
Like the Neam-Nam, the Dôr acknowledged no paramount chief, the
innumerable sub-tribes of which it is composed being each independent,
and nearly all at feud with one another. Indeed the whole political
condition of the Dôr is wonderfully similar to that of Scotland, when
clan was set against clan, and a continual state of feud prevailed
among them, though they all gloried in the name of Scotchman.
As in the old days of Chevy Chase, a hunt is almost a sure precursor
of a fight. The Dôr are much given to hunting, and organize battues
on a grand scale. They weave strong nets of bark fibre, and fasten
them between trunks of trees, so as to cover a space of several miles.
Antelopes and other game are driven from considerable distances into
these nets; and as the hunters have to pass over a large space of
country, some of which is sure to be claimed by inimical tribes, a
skirmish, if not a regular battle, is sure to take place.
The weapons carried by the Dôr are of rather a formidable description.
One of the most curious is the club. It is about two feet six inches in
length, and is remarkable for the shape of the head, which is formed
like a mushroom, but has sharp edges. As it is made of very hard wood,
it is a most effective weapon, and not even the stone-like skull of
a Dôr warrior can resist a blow from it. The bow exhibits a mode of
construction which is very common in this part of Africa, and which
must interfere greatly with the power of the weapon. The string does
not extend to the tips of the bow, so that eighteen inches or so of the
weapon are wasted, and the elasticity impaired. The reader will see
that, if the ends of the bow were cut off immediately above the string,
the strength and elasticity would suffer no diminution, and that, in
fact, the extra weight at each end of the bow only gives the weapon
more work to do.
The Africans have a strange habit of making a weapon in such a way
that its efficiency shall be weakened as much as possible. Not content
with leaving a foot or so of useless wood at each end of the bow, some
tribes ornament the weapon with large tufts of loose strings or fibres,
about half way between the handle and the tip, as if to cause as much
disturbance to the aim as possible. Spears again are decorated with
tufts to such an extent that they are rendered quite unmanageable.
Much more care is taken with the arrows than with the bows. There is
a great variety in the shape of the arrows, as also in their length.
They are all iron-headed, and every man seems to make his arrows after
his own peculiar fashion; sometimes large and broad-headed, sometimes
slightly barbed, though more commonly slender and sharply pointed.
In my collection there is a most remarkable quiver, once belonging to
a warrior of one of the Dôr sub-tribes. It was brought from Central
Africa by Mr. Petherick. Nothing can be simpler than the construction
of this quiver. The maker has cut a strip of antelope hide rather more
than three feet in length and fourteen inches in width. He has then
poked his knife through the edges at moderately regular intervals, so
as to make a series of holes. A thong about half an inch wide has
next been cut from the same hide, and passed through the topmost hole
or slit, a large knot preventing it from slipping through. It has
then been passed through the remaining slits, so as to lace the edges
together like the sides of a boot. The bottom is closed by the simple
plan of turning it up and lacing it by the same thong to the side of
the quiver.
It is hardly possible to conceive any rougher work. The maker has cut
the slits quite at random, so that he has occasionally missed one or
two, and he has not taken the least pains to bring the sides of the
quiver together throughout their length. So stupid or careless has he
been, that he has begun by cutting the strip of skin much too narrow,
and then has widened it, never taking the pains to sew up the cut,
which extends two-thirds down the quiver.
Four or five of the arrows have the leaf-shaped head and need not be
particularly described. The largest of the arrows, being a “cloth-yard
shaft,” but for the absence of feathers, might vie with the weapons of
the old English archers. The head is remarkable for a heavy ridge which
runs along the centre on both sides. There is another not so boldly
barbed as that which has just been mentioned, but which is quite as
formidable a weapon, on account of a thick layer of poison that begins
just behind the head, and extends nearly as far as the shaft.
The most characteristic forms, however, are these two. The first is an
arrow which is barbed with a wonderful ingenuity, the barbs not being
mere projections, but actual spikes, more than an inch in length, and
at the base nearly as thick as a crow quill. They have been separated
from the iron head by the blow of a chisel, or some such implement, and
have then been bent outward, and sharpened until the points are like
those of needles. Besides these long barbs, the whole of the square
neck of the iron is jagged exactly like the Bechuana assagai which has
been figured on page 281.
Such an arrow cannot be extracted, and the only mode of removing it is
to push it through the wound. But the Central Africans have evidently
thought that their enemy was let off too cheaply by being allowed to
rid himself of the arrow by so simple a process, and accordingly they
have invented a kind of arrow which can neither be drawn out nor pushed
through. In the second of these arrows there is a pair of reversed
barbs just at the junction of the shaft and the iron head, so that when
the arrow has once penetrated, it must either be cut out or allowed to
remain where it is. Such an arrow is not poisoned, nor does it need
any such addition to its terrors. Both these arrows are remarkable for
having the heads fastened to the shaft, first in the ordinary way, by
raw hide, and then by a band of iron, about the sixth of an inch in
width. Though shorter than some of the other arrows, they are on that
account much heavier.
One of the fights consequent on a hunt is well described by Mr.
Petherick. He was sitting in the shade at noon-day, when he perceived
several boys running in haste to the village for an additional supply
of weapons for their fathers. “The alarm spread instantly that a fight
was taking place, and the women _en masse_ proceeded to the scene with
yellings and shrieks indescribable. Seizing my rifle, and accompanied
by four of my followers, curiosity to see a negro fight tempted me to
accompany them. After a stiff march of a couple of hours through bush
and glade, covered with waving grass reaching nearly to our waists, the
return of several boys warned us of the proximity of the fight, and
of their fear of its turning against them, the opposing party being
the most numerous. Many of the women hurried back to their homes, to
prepare, in case of emergency, for flight and safety in the bush. For
such an occurrence, to a certain extent, they are always prepared;
several parcels of grain and provisions, neatly packed up in spherical
forms in leaves surrounded by network, being generally kept ready in
every hut for a sudden start.
“Accelerating our pace, and climbing up a steep hill, as we reached the
summit, and were proceeding down a gentle slope, I came in contact with
Djau and his party in full retreat, and leaping like greyhounds over
the low underwood and high grass. On perceiving me, they halted, and
rent the air with wild shouts of ‘The White Chief! the White Chief!’
and I was almost suffocated by the embraces of the chief. My presence
gave them courage to face the enemy again; a loud peculiar shrill
whoop from the gray-headed but still robust chief was the signal for
attack, and, bounding forward, they were soon out of sight. To keep
up with them would have been an impossibility; but, marching at the
top of our pace, we followed them as best we could. After a long march
down a gentle declivity, at the bottom of which was a beautiful glade,
we again came up with them drawn up in line, in pairs, some yards
apart from each other, within the confines of the bush, not a sound
indicating their presence.
“Joining them, and inquiring what had become of the enemy, the man whom
I addressed silently pointed to the bush on the opposite side of the
glade, some three hundred yards across. Notwithstanding my intention
of being a mere spectator, I now felt myself compromised in the fight;
and, although unwilling to shed blood, I could not resist my aid to the
friends who afforded me an asylum amongst them. Marching, accordingly,
into the open space with my force of four men, I resolved that we
should act as skirmishers on the side of our hosts, who retained their
position in the bush. We had proceeded about a third of the way across
the glade, when the enemy advanced out of the wood and formed, in a
long line of two or three deep, on its confines opposite to us. I also
drew up my force, and for an instant we stood looking at each other.
Although within range, at about two hundred yards’ distance, I did not
like to fire upon them; but in preference continued advancing, thinking
the prestige of my fire-arms would be sufficient.
“I was right. We had scarcely marched fifty yards when a general flight
took place, and in an instant Djau and his host, amounting to some
three or four hundred men, passed in hot pursuit. After reflection on
the rashness of exposing myself with so few men to the hostility of
some six hundred negroes, and in self-congratulation on the effect my
appearance in the fight had produced, I waited the return of my hosts.
In the course of an hour this took place; and, as they advanced, I
shall never forget the impression they made upon me. A more complete
picture of savage life I could not have imagined. A large host of naked
negroes came trooping on, grasping in their hands bow and arrow, lances
and clubs, with wild gesticulations and frightful yells proclaiming
their victory, whilst one displayed the reeking head of a victim. I
refused to join them in following up the defeat of their enemies by a
descent on their villages.
“With some difficulty they were persuaded to be content with the
success already achieved--that of having beaten off a numerically
superior force--and return to their homes. Their compliance was only
obtained by an actual refusal of further co-operation; but in the event
of a renewed attack upon their villages, the probability of which was
suggested, I promised them my willing support.”
The death of an enemy and the capture of his body are always causes
of great rejoicing among the Dôr tribes, because they gain trophies
whereby they show their skill in warfare. In the centre of every
village there is a large open space, or circus, in the middle of which
is the venerated war tree. Beneath this tree are placed the great
war drums, whose deep, booming notes can be heard for miles. On the
branches are hung the whitened skulls of slain warriors, and the war
drums only sound when a new head is added to the trophy, or when the
warriors are called to arms.
Four of the enemy were killed in this skirmish, and their bodies were
thrown into the bush, their heads being reserved for the trophy. On
the same evening they were brought into the village circus, and dances
performed in honor of the victors. The great drums were beaten in
rhythmic measure, and the women advanced in pairs, dancing to the sound
of the drum and chanting a war-song. As they approached the heads of
the victims, they halted, and addressed various insulting epithets to
them, clanking their iron anklets and yelling with excitement. On the
following day the heads were taken into the bush to be bleached, and,
after they were completely whitened, they were hung on the trophy with
the accompaniment of more shouts and dances.
All their hunting parties, however, are not conducted in this manner,
nor do they all lead to bloodshed. When they hunt the elephant,
for example, the animal is attacked by a small party, and for the
sufficient reason, namely, that he who first wounds the elephant takes
the tusks, and therefore every additional man only decreases the chance.
They have one singularly ingenious mode of hunting the elephant, which
is conducted by one man alone. The hunter takes with him a remarkable
spear made for the express purpose. One of these spears, which was
brought from Central Africa by Mr. Petherick, is in my collection,
and a representation of it may be seen on page 103, fig. 2. They
vary slightly in size, but my specimen is a very fair example of the
average dimensions. It is rather more than six feet in length, three
feet of which are due to the iron head and the socket into which the
shaft passes. As may be seen, the shaft tapers gradually, so as to
permit it to pass into the socket. To the butt is fastened a heavy
piece of wood, rather more than four inches in diameter. It is a heavy
weapon, its whole weight being a little more than seven pounds, and is
so ill-balanced and so unwieldy, that, unless its use were known, it
would seem to be about the most clumsy weapon that ever was invented.
This, however, is the spear by which the Dôr and Baer tribes kill the
elephant, and very ingeniously they do it.
Knowing the spots where the elephant loves to hide itself in the
noon-tide, and which are always in the depths of the forest, the hunter
proceeds thither in the early morning, and carries with him his heavy
spear and some rope. When he approaches the place, he proceeds to take
some large stones, and binds them to the butt of the spear, plastering
them over thickly with lumps of clay, so as to make his heavy weapon
still heavier. He then ties one end of the rope to the spear, and after
selecting a suitable tree, climbs it, and works his way out upon one
of the horizontal branches, hauling up his weapon when he has settled
himself.
He now awaits the coming of the herd, and, when they are close to the
tree, unties the spear, and holds it in readiness. When an elephant
with good tusks passes under him, he drops the spear upon the animal’s
back, the weight of the weapon causing it to penetrate deeply into the
body. Startled at the sudden pang, the elephant rushes through the
trees, trying to shake off the terrible spear, which sways about from
side to side, occasionally striking against the trunks or branches of
the trees, and so cutting its way deeper among the vital organs, until
the unfortunate animal falls from loss of blood. The hunter does not
trouble himself about chasing his victim at once. He can always track
it by its bloody traces, and knows full well that within a moderate
distance the unfortunate animal will halt, and there die, unless it is
disturbed by the presence of man, and urged to further exertions.
The reader will note the curious similarity between this mode of
elephant hunting and the Banyai method of trapping the hippopotamus,
as described on page 342. The Dôr also use lances, at least eleven
feet long, for elephant hunting, the blades measuring between two and
three feet in length. These, however, are not dropped from a tree, but
wielded by hand, the hunters surrounding the animal, and each watching
his opportunity, and driving his spear into its side when its attention
is directed toward some on the other side.
The Dôr hold in great contempt the perfect nudity which distinguishes
the Kytch and several other tribes, but no one on first entering their
villages would suppose such to be the case. The dress which the men
wear is simply a little flap of leather hanging behind them. This,
however, in their ideas constitutes dress; and when some of the Djour
people entered a Dôr village, the latter, as a mark of respect to
the visitors, turned their little aprons to the front, and so were
considered as having put on full dress.
The women use a still simpler dress. Until they are married, they
wear no dress at all; but when that event takes place, they clothe
themselves in a very simple manner. In their country is an abundance
of evergreens and creepers, and with these they form their dress, a
branch tucked into the girdle in front, and another behind, answering
all purposes of clothing. They use these leafy dresses of such a length
that they fall nearly to the ground. Ornaments, however, they admire
exceedingly, and the weight of a Dôr woman’s decorations is more than
an ordinary man would like to carry about with him for a whole day.
Heavy strings of beads are hung on their necks and tied round their
waists, the most valued beads being as large as pigeon’s eggs, and
consequently very heavy. Strings of beads also fall from their ears.
On their wrists they wear bracelets, made simply of iron bars cut to
the proper length, and bent round the wrist. Others, but of greater
dimensions, encircle the ankles; and as some of them are fully an inch
thick, and quite solid, their united weight is very considerable.
Like most African tribes, the Dôr are fond of wearing amulets, though
they do not seem to have any particular idea of their meaning, and
certainly do not attach any sanctity to them. They have a hazy idea
that the possession of a certain amulet is a safeguard against certain
dangers, but they do not trouble themselves about the _modus operandi_.
In this tribe we may notice the re-appearance of the lip ornament. In
the manner in which it is worn it resembles the “pelele” described
on page 356, but it is worn in the under instead of the upper lip.
One of these ornaments is now before me. It is cylindrical, with a
conical top, and measures three-quarters of an inch in diameter, and
exactly an inch in length. The base, which comes against the lower
teeth and gum, is nearly flat, and well polished, while the conical
top, which projects in front of the mouth, is carved very neatly with a
“cross-hatching” sort of a pattern, the effect of which is heightened
by the charring of a certain portion of it, the blackened and polished
surfaces contrasting well with the deep-red color of the wood. In order
to keep it in its place, a shallow groove runs round it. This is one of
the smaller specimens, but it is the custom of the owner to wear larger
and larger lip ornaments, until some of them contrive to force into
their lips pieces of wood three inches in circumference. Before taking
leave of the Dôr costume, it may be as well to observe that in the
Botocudo tribe of Tropical America both sexes wear a similar ornament
in their lips, and in most instances have these strange decorations
twice as large as those of the Dôr women.
The villages of the Dôr tribes are really remarkable. The houses are
neatly constructed of canes woven into a sort of basket work. The
perpendicular walls are about six feet high, and are covered by a
conical roof, the whole shape of the hut being almost exactly like
that of the lip ornament which has just been described. The reed roof
is ornamented on the exterior with pieces of wood carved into the rude
semblance of birds.
In the middle of each hut is the bedstead, and, as no cooking is done
within it, the interior of the hut is very clean, and in that respect
entirely unlike the sooty homes of the Kaffir tribes. All the cooking
is performed in a separate hut, or kitchen, and is of a rather simple
character, the chief food being a kind of porridge. The doorway is
very small, and is barricaded at night by several logs of wood laid
horizontally upon each other, and supported at each end by two posts
driven into the ground. The whole village is kept as clean as the
individual houses, and the central circus is not only swept, but kept
well watered, so as to lay the dust.
The most singular point in the Dôr village lies in the approaches
to it, which are narrow footpaths, marked out on each side by wooden
posts roughly carved into the human form. They are placed about four
feet apart, and are different in size. The one nearest the village is
the largest, while the others are much smaller, and are represented as
carrying bowls on their heads. The natives say that the first is the
chief going to a feast, and that the others are his attendants carrying
food on their heads.
Several of these wooden figures were brought to England by Mr.
Petherick, and two of the chiefs are represented on the next page. They
are about four feet in length. It may be imagined that a double row of
such figures must give a most curious aspect to the road.
“The village,” writes Mr. Petherick, “was prettily situated at the foot
of a hill, around which were two or three other villages, this forming
the entire community of a large district. From its summit a beautiful
view of the surrounding country was obtained. Surrounding the village
at a moderate distance were the unfenced gardens of the villagers, in
which cucurbits, vegetables, and seeds were grown; and beyond, to the
eastward, was a large plain of cultivated dourra fields; and southward,
at about a mile distant, a winding brook was to be seen, bordered
with superb trees and flourishing canes. The bush supplied a variety
of game, consisting of partridges, guinea-fowl, a large white boar,
gazelles, antelopes, and giraffes. Elephants and buffaloes I did not
encounter, and I was told that they only frequented the locality in the
rainy season.”
There are three forms of the guitar, or rababa, yet in neither
instrument is the neck rigid, as in the guitars and violins with which
we are all familiar. This is, however, intentional on the part of
the maker, its object being to keep the strings at a proper tension.
The mode in which it is tuned is equally simple and effective. A
ring, mostly made of the same fibre as the strings, is passed over
each neck, so that, as it is slipped up or down, the sound becomes
proportionately grave or acute. It can be thus tuned with reasonable
accuracy, as I can testify by experience, the only drawback being
that the notes cannot be altered by pressure of the fingers upon the
strings, on account of the angle which they make with the neck. Five
sounds only can be produced by this instrument, but it is worthy of
notice that one string is very much longer than the others, so that it
produces a deep tone, analogous to the “drone” in the bagpipes.
Although tolerably well-mannered to travellers with whom they were
acquainted, the Dôr are very apt to behave badly to those whom
they do not know. Mr. Petherick nearly lost his life by a sudden
and treacherous attack that was made on him by some of this tribe.
Accompanied by the friendly chief, Djau, he went to a village, and
began to purchase ivory. In spite of Djau’s presence the people were
suspicious, and became more and more insolent, asking higher prices
for every tusk, and at last trying to run off with a tusk and the
beads that had been offered in payment for it. The tusk was regained,
whereupon a sudden attack was made, and a lance hurled at Mr.
Petherick, whom it missed, but struck one of his men in the shoulder.
Three more were wounded by a volley of spears, and there was nothing
for it but to fire. One of the assailants having been wounded in the
leg, firing was stopped. On going for their donkey, who had been
brought to carry back the tusks, he was found lying dead, having been
killed by the vengeful Dôr.
Hereupon Djau recommended that the village should be sacked as a
warning, which was done, and the spoil carried home. Next day the chief
of the village came very humbly to apologize, bringing some tusks as an
equivalent for the donkey, and as a proof of good-will for the future.
So the tusks were accepted, the plunder of the village restored, and
harmony was thus established, a supplementary present of beads being
added as a seal to the bargain.
THE DJOUR.
The Djour tribe afford a remarkable instance of the influence which is
exercised over man by the peculiarities of the country in which he is
placed. Surrounded by pastoral tribes, which breed cattle and trouble
themselves but little about the cultivation of the ground, the Djour
are agriculturists, and have no cattle except goats. The sole reason
for this fact is, that the dread tsetse-fly is abundant in the land of
Djour, and consequently neither horse nor ox has a chance of life. This
terrible insect, harmless to man and to most animals, is certain death
to the horse, dog, and ox tribe.
It is very little larger than the horse-fly, and its only weapons
are a kind of lancet, which projects from its mouth, as one may see
in the gad-fly. Like the gad-fly, the tsetse only causes a temporary
irritation when it bites a human being, and the strangest thing is that
it does no harm to calves until they are weaned. It does not sting,
but, like the gnat, inserts its sharp proboscis into the skin for the
purpose of sucking the blood. After an ox has been bitten, it loses
condition, the coat starts, the muscles become flaccid, and in a short
time the animal dies, even the muscle of the heart having become so
soft that, when pinched, the fingers can be made to meet through it.
[Illustration: ORNAMENT. (See page 451.)]
[Illustration: WOMEN’S KNIVES. (See page 451.)]
[Illustration: BRACELETS. (See page 467.)]
[Illustration: WOODEN CHIEFS. (See page 448.)]
[Illustration: NEUHR HELMET. (See page 468.)]
[Illustration: SCALP LOCKS. (See page 467.)]
Yet the mule, ass, and goat enjoy a perfect immunity from this pest,
and consequently the only domesticated animal among the Djour is the
goat. The tsetse is a singularly local insect. It will swarm along one
bank of a river, and the other bank be free; or it will inhabit little
hills, or perhaps a patch of soil on level ground. Tsetse-haunted
places are well known to the natives, and it has often happened that,
when a herd of oxen has been driven through one of these dreaded spots,
not a single animal has escaped.
Being deprived of cattle, the Djour do not depend wholly upon
agriculture, but are admirable workers in iron, and by them are made
many of the weapons and polished iron ornaments which are so much
in request throughout Central Africa. Iron ore is abundant in their
country, and, after they have finished getting in their crops, the
industrious Djour set to work at their metallurgy, at which every man
is more or less an adept. After procuring a sufficient quantity of ore,
they proceed to smelt it in furnaces very ingeniously built.
“The cupolas are constructed of stiff clay, one foot thick, increasing
toward the bottom to about fourteen inches in diameter, and four
feet in height. Underneath is a small basin for the reception of the
metal, and on a level with the surface are four apertures, opposite
each other, for the reception of the blast pipes. These are made of
burnt clay, and are attached to earthen vessels about eighteen inches
in diameter and six inches in height, covered with a loose dressed
goat-skin tied tightly over them, and perforated with a few small
holes. In the centre there is a loop to contain the fingers of the
operator. A lad, sitting between two of these vessels, by a rapid
alternate vertical motion with each hand drives a current of air into
the furnace, which, charged with alternate layers of ore and charcoal,
nourished by eight of these rude bellows, emits a flame some eighteen
inches in height at the top.
“Relays of boys keep up a continual blast, and, when the basin for the
reception of the metal is nearly full, the charging of the furnace is
discontinued, and it is blown out. Through an aperture at the bottom
the greater part of the slag is withdrawn, and the temperature of the
furnace not being sufficient to reduce the metal to the fluid state, it
is mixed up with a quantity of impurities, and broken, when still warm,
into small pieces. These are subsequently submitted to the heat of a
smith’s hearth, and hammered with a huge granite boulder on a small
anvil, presenting a surface of one and a half inches square, stuck into
an immense block of wood. By this method the metal is freed from its
impurities, and converted into malleable iron of the best quality. The
slag undergoes the operations of crushing and washing, and the small
globules of iron contained in it are obtained. A crucible charged with
them is exposed to welding heat on the hearth, and its contents are
welded and purified as above.
“The iron being reduced to small malleable ingots, the manufacture of
lances, hoes, hatchets, &c., is proceeded with. These are beaten into
shape by the boulder wielded by a powerful man; and the master smith
with a hammer, handleless, like the pestle of a mortar, finishes them.
With these rude implements, the proficiency they have attained is truly
astonishing, many lances and other articles of their manufacture which
I now possess having been pronounced good specimens of workmanship for
an ordinary English smith.”
In an illustration on page 449 may be seen an example of the
workmanship of the Djour tribe. The remarkable ornament with a long
hook is an armlet, the hooked portion being passed over the arm, and
then bent, so as to retain its hold. The singular objects entitled
“Women’s knives” are good examples of the patient skill displayed by
the Djour tribe with such very imperfect tools.
These and other products of their ingenuity are dispersed throughout
several of the tribes of Central Africa, many of them being recognized
as currency, just as is the English sovereign on the Continent. As if
to illustrate the truth of the proverb, that men are always longing
for that which they do not possess, the Djours are always hankering
after beef, and in consequence buy cattle largely from their warlike
neighbors, the Dinka tribe. The tsetse prevents the Djour from keeping
the cattle just purchased, and so they only buy them in order to kill
and eat them at once.
Owing to this traffic, the Djour are recognized as the chief smiths
of Central Africa, and they can always find a market for their wares.
Consequently, they are a very prosperous tribe, as even the Dinkas
would not wish to destroy a people from whom they procure the very
weapons with which they fight; and there is not a Djour man who cannot
with ordinary industry earn enough for the purchase and maintenance of
a wife as soon as he is old enough to take one. Among themselves they
do not care particularly about wearing as ornaments the products of
their own skill, but prize beads above every other personal decoration;
and so far do they carry this predilection, that their wives are
purchased with beads, and not with goats--the only cattle which they
can breed. There is scarcely a Djour of full age who has not a wife, if
not in fact, yet in view; and so brisk is the matrimonial market, that
there is not a girl in the country above eight years of age who has not
been purchased by some one as a wife.
Tobacco is as dear to the Djour as to other African tribes, and they
are fond of smoking it in pipes of very great capacity. They have a
rather odd mode of managing their pipes. The bowl is of reddish clay,
worked on the outside into a kind of pattern like that in frosted
glass. The stem is of bamboo, and is very thick, and the junction
between the stem and the bowl is made tolerably air-tight by binding
a piece of raw hide round it. A long and narrow gourd forms the
mouthpiece, and round it is wrapped a piece of leather like that which
fastens the bowl to the stem. Lest the mouthpiece should fall off, a
string is passed round it, and the other end fastened to the lower end
of the stem.
When the pipe is used, a quantity of fine bark fibres are rolled up
into little balls, and, the gourd mouthpiece being removed, they are
thrust into it and into the stem, so that, when the pipe is lighted,
they may become saturated with tobacco oil. This fibre is not inserted
for the purpose of purifying the smoke, for the tobacco oil is thought
to be much too valuable an article to be wasted, and the fibre balls,
when thoroughly saturated, are taken out and chewed as if they were the
best pigtail tobacco.
It is thought to be a delicate attention for two friends to exchange
“quids” from each other’s pipe, and, when one person has obtained as
much tobacco oil as he cares for, he passes the quid to another, and so
on, until the flavor has all been extracted. I have in my collection
one of these pipes. It is two feet in length, and the bowl is capable
of holding a large handful of tobacco. Pipes of this description,
though differing slightly in details, prevail through the whole of
Central Africa, and especially along the east bank of the Nile. In the
splendid collection gathered by Mr. Petherick, and exhibited in London
in 1862, more than twenty such pipes were exhibited, several with horn
stems, some mounted with iron, and in one or two the bark “quids” were
still in their places. The specimen described above belonged to the
collection.
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE LATOOKA TRIBE.
THEIR LIVELY AND PLEASANT DISPOSITION -- SINGULAR HEADDRESS --
WEAPONS -- THE ARMED BRACELET AND ITS USE -- LATOOKA WOMEN AND
THEIR DRESS -- THE CURIOUS LIP ORNAMENT -- BOKKÈ AND HER DAUGHTER
-- WEALTH OF THE LATOOKAS -- INGENIOUS STRUCTURE OF THE VILLAGES --
TARRANGOLLÉ, THE CAPITAL OF LATOOKA -- CONDITION OF THE WOMEN --
BOKKÈ AND THE SOLDIER -- MODE OF GOVERNMENT -- ABSENCE OF RELIGIOUS
IDEAS -- SKILL AT THE FORGE -- THE MOLOTE, OR IRON HOE -- FONDNESS
FOR CATTLE -- REPULSE OF A RAID, AND A LATOOKA VICTORY -- THE DRUM
SIGNALS -- FUNERAL CEREMONIES -- THE STRANGE DANCES -- LATOOKA BELLS.
The Latooka tribe inhabit a tract of country on the east of the
Nile, lat. 40° N. Equally warlike when war is needed, they are not
the morose, inhospitable set of savages we have seen some of their
neighbors to be, but are merry, jocose, and always ready either for
fighting, laughing, or playing.
The dress of the Latookas is at once simple and complicated. The men
wear but little dress upon their bodies, but bestow a wonderful amount
of attention upon their heads, the proper tiring of which is so long a
process, that a man cannot hope to dress his head perfectly until he
has arrived at full age. Indeed, from the time that a Latooka begins
to dress his head at least seven or eight years must elapse before his
toilet is completed. The following account, given by Sir S. Baker,
affords an excellent idea of the Latooka headdress.
“However tedious the operation, the result is extraordinary. The
Latookas wear most exquisite helmets: all of them are formed of their
own hair, and are of course fixtures. At first sight it appears
incredible, but a minute examination shows the wonderful perseverance
of years in producing what must be highly inconvenient. The thick,
crisp wool is woven with fine twine, formed from the bark of a tree,
until it presents a thick net-work of felt. As the hair grows through
this matted substance, it is subjected to the same process, until, in
the course of years, a compact substance is formed, like a strong felt,
about an inch and a half thick, that has been trained into the shape of
a helmet. A strong rim, of about two inches deep, is formed by sewing
it together with thread; and the front part of the helmet is protected
by a piece of polished copper; while a plate of the same metal, shaped
like the half of a bishop’s mitre, and about a foot in length, forms
the crest.
“The framework of the helmet being at length completed, it must be
perfected by an arrangement of beads, should the owner be sufficiently
rich to indulge in the coveted distinction. The beads most in fashion
are the red and the blue porcelain, about the size of small peas. These
are sewed on the nape of the felt, and so beautifully arranged in
sections of blue and red, that the entire helmet appears to be formed
of beads; and the handsome crest of polished copper, surmounted by
ostrich plumes, gives a most dignified and martial appearance to this
elaborate head-gear. No helmet is supposed to be complete without a row
of cowrie-shells stitched round the rim, so as to form a solid edge.”
Necklaces of metal are also worn by the men, and also bracelets of
the same material. Each warrior carries in addition a most remarkable
bracelet on his right wrist. This is a ring of iron, round which are
set four or five knife-blades with points and edges scrupulously kept
sharp. With this instrument they can strike terrible blows, and, if
in action the spear is dropped, the wearer instantly closes with his
enemy, and strikes at him with his armed bracelet. The other weapons
of the Latooka tribe are a strong lance, or a short mace, mostly made
of iron, and a shield about four feet long by two wide. The shields
are generally made of buffalo hide, but the best are formed from the
skin of the giraffe, this combining the two qualities of lightness and
toughness. Bows and arrows are not used by the Latookas.
The women take comparatively little pains with their toilet. Instead of
spending their time in working up their woolly hair into the felt-like
mass which decorates the men, they shave their heads entirely, and
trust for their ornaments to beads, paint, and tattooing. Like the
belles of more Southern tribes, the Latooka women extract the four
incisor teeth of the lower jaw; and the favorite wife of the king told
Lady Baker that she would really not be bad-looking if she would only
remove those teeth, and give herself a coat of grease and vermilion.
Bokkè, the queen in question, with her daughter, were the only
good-looking women that were seen in that country; the females being
strangely large, coarse, and powerful. On bodily strength they pride
themselves, and each woman makes it a daily task to carry on her head
a ten-gallon jar to the water, fill it, and bring it back again,
the distance being seldom less than a mile. Their dress is rather
remarkable. It consists of a leathern belt, to which is attached a
large flap of tanned leather in front, while to the back are tied a
number of thongs, two feet or more in length, which look at a distance
exactly like a horse’s tail.
The most fashionable feminine ornament in the Latooka country is a
long piece of polished crystal, about as thick as a drawing pencil. A
hole is bored in the under lip, and the ornament hung from it. Sir S.
Baker commended himself greatly to Bokkè and her daughter by presenting
them with the glass stem of a thermometer that had been accidentally
broken, and his gift was valued much as a necklace of brilliants would
be by European ladies. In order to prevent this ornament from falling,
a piece of twine is knotted upon the end that passes through the lip.
As the lower teeth are removed, the tongue of course acts upon it, and
when a lady is speaking the movements of the tongue cause the crystal
pendant to move about in a very ludicrous manner. Tattooing is mostly
confined to the cheeks and forehead, and consists chiefly of lines.
The men are also fond of decorating their heads with the feathers of
various birds, and the favorite ornament is the head of the crested
crane, its black, velvet-like plumage, tipped with the gold-colored
crest, having a very handsome appearance when fixed on the top of the
head.
When Sir S. Baker was encamping among the Latookas, he could not
purchase either goats or cows, though large herds were being driven
before him, and he was therefore forced to depend much on his gun for
subsistence. The feathers of the cranes, ducks, geese, and other birds
were thrown over the palisade of his encampment, and, during the whole
time of his visit, the boys were to be seen with their heads comically
dressed with white feathers, until they looked like huge cauliflowers.
The longest feathers were in greatest request, and were taken as
perquisites by the boys who volunteered to accompany the sportsman, to
carry home the game which he shot, and then to pluck the birds.
In general appearance, the Latookas are a singularly fine race of men.
They are, on an average, all but six feet in height, and, although
they are exceedingly muscular and powerful, they do not degenerate
into corpulency nor unwieldiness. The expression of the countenance is
pleasing, and the lips, although large, are not of the negro type. The
forehead is high, the cheek-bones rather prominent, and the eyes large.
It is thought that their origin must have been derived from some of the
Galla tribes.
The Latookas are rich as well as powerful, and have great herds
of cattle, which they keep in stockades, constructed after a most
ingenious fashion; as many as ten or twelve thousand head of cattle
being often herded in one town. Knowing that there are plenty of
hostile tribes, who would seize every opportunity of stealing their
cows, the Latookas always pen them in very strong stockades, the
entrance to which is only a yard or thereabouts in width. These
entrances are arch-shaped, and only just wide enough to allow an ox
to pass through, and from the top of each arch is hung a rude kind of
cattle bell, formed from the shell of the dolapè palm nut, against
which the animal must strike as it passes in or out of the stockade.
The path which leads from the entrances is no wider than the door
itself, and is flanked at either side by a high and strong palisade,
so that, if an enemy were to attack the place, they could hardly force
their way along passages which a few men could guard as effectually as
a multitude. Through the village runs a tolerably wide street, and into
the street open the larger entrances into the cattle enclosures, so
that, if the inhabitants desired, they could either remove their oxen
singly by the small doors, or drive them out in herds through the gates
that open into the central street.
Thus it will be seen that the aspect of a Latooka town is very
remarkable. It is surrounded by a very strong palisade, in which are
several doorways. Through the centre of the village runs the main
street, upon which all the cattle-pens open, and the rest of the
interior is traversed by lanes, so narrow that only one cow can pass
at a time. The various gates and doors of the village are closed
at night, and carefully barred with branches of the thorny mimosa.
Sometimes these villages are so large as to deserve the name of towns.
Tarrangollé, the capital of the Latookas, comprised at least three
thousand homesteads; and not only was the whole town surrounded by a
strong iron-wood palisading, but each homestead was fortified in like
manner.
The wives of the Latookas seem tolerably well off in comparison with
their married sisters of other tribes. They certainly work hard,
and carry ponderous weights, but then they are so tall and strong,
that such labor is no very great hardship to them. That they are not
down-trodden, as women are in too many parts of Africa, is evident from
the way in which they comport themselves. On one occasion one of the
armed soldiers belonging to the Turkish caravan met a woman, who was
returning from the water with her heavy jar on her head. He demanded
the water, and, when she refused to give it him, threatened her with
his stick. Bokkè, the pretty wife of Commoro, seeing this proceeding,
went to the rescue, seized the soldier by the throat, and wrested his
stick from him, while another woman twisted his gun out of his hand.
Several other women came running to the spot, threw the man down, and
administered a sound pommelling, while others poured water down the
muzzle of his gun, and plastered great lumps of wet mud over the lock
and trigger.
Wives are purchased in Latooka-land for cows, and therefore a large
family is a sure step to prosperity: the boys becoming warriors, who
will fight for their tribe; and the girls being always saleable for
cows, should they live to womanhood. Every girl is sure of being
married, because, when a man begins to procure wealth, the first thing
that he does is to buy a wife, and he adds to the number of his wives
as fast as he can muster cows enough to pay for them.
When Sir S. Baker passed through the country, the great chief of
the Latookas was named Moy. He had a brother, named Commoro, and,
although in actual rank Moy took precedence of his brother, Commoro
was virtually the king, having far more influence over the people
than his brother. Commoro was really deserving of this influence, and
was remarkable for his acuteness and strong common sense. Without his
exertions the Latookas would certainly have assaulted the caravan, and
great slaughter must have ensued, the natives having learned to despise
guns on account of a victory which they had lately gained over a party
of slave-stealers. He had a long argument with his visitor respecting
the immortality of the soul, and resurrection after death, but could in
no way be convinced that a man could live after death. Had he had even
any superstitious feelings, something might have been done with him,
but, like many other sceptics, he flatly refused to believe anything
which is without the range of his senses.
The familiar illustration of the grain of corn planted in the earth
was used, but without effect. He was quite willing that the grain in
question should represent himself, but controverted the conclusion
which was drawn from the premises. The ears of corn filled with grains,
which would spring up after the decay of the original seed, were not,
he said, representatives of himself, but were his children, who lived
after he was dead. The ingenuity with which he slipped out of the
argument was very considerable, and, as Sir S. Baker remarks, “it was
extraordinary to see so much clearness of perception combined with such
complete obtuseness to anything ideal.”
The Latookas are very good blacksmiths, and excel in the manufacture
of iron hoe-blades, or “molotes” as they are called. This instrument
is also used as money. The bellows are made on the same principle
as those used by the Kaffir tribes, but, instead of using merely a
couple of leather bags, the Latooka blacksmith employs two earthenware
pots, and over the mouth of each pot is loosely tied a large piece of
soft, pliable leather, kept well greased to insure its softness. A
perpendicular stick about four feet in length is fastened to the centre
of each skin, and, when these are worked rapidly up and down, the wind
is forced through earthenware tubes which communicate with the bottom
of the pots.
The tools are very simple, a large stone doing duty for an anvil, and
a smaller for a hammer, while a cleft stick of green wood is used by
way of pincers. Great care is taken in shaping the molotes, which are
always carefully tested by balancing them on their heads, and making
them ring by a blow of the finger. When used for agriculture, the
molotes are fastened to the end of wooden shafts, seldom less than
seven, and often ten, feet in length, and thus a powerful leverage is
gained.
Although the Latooka is generally ready for war, he is not a born
warrior, as is the case with many tribes. The Zulu, for example, lives
chiefly for war; he thinks of it day and night, and his great ambition
is to distinguish himself in battle. The Latooka, on the other hand,
seldom wages war without a cause which he is pleased to think a good
one; but, when he does, he fights well. The chief cause for which a
Latooka will fight to the death is his cattle. He will sometimes run
away when a powerful party makes a raid on his village, and carries off
his wives and children for slaves; but if they attempt to drive off his
cattle, the spirit of the noble savage is set a-blaze, and he is at
once up in arms.
A curious example of this trait of character occurred during Sir S.
Baker’s residence in Latooka-land. One of the Mahometan traders (who,
it will be remembered, are the very pest and scourge of the country)
gathered together a band of three hundred natives, and more than a
hundred of his own countrymen, for the purpose of making a raid upon a
certain village among the mountains. The men ran away, and the invaders
captured a great number of women and children, with whom they might
have escaped unmolested. Unfortunately for them, they were told of a
large herd of cattle which they had missed, and accordingly returned,
and began to drive off their spoil.
The Latookas had witnessed the capture of their wives and children
without attempting a rescue, but the attack on their beloved cattle was
too much for them, and they poured out of their hiding places like a
swarm of angry wasps. Maddened with the idea of losing their cattle,
they bravely faced the muskets with their spears and shields, and
clustered round the invaders in resistless numbers. Each man, as he
advanced, leaped behind some cover, from which he could hurl a lance,
while others climbed up the rocks, and rolled great stones on their
enemies. The attack was so sudden and simultaneous, that the Turks
found themselves beset on all sides, and yet could hardly see a man at
whom they could aim.
They fled in terror down the path, and, mistaking in their haste the
right road, they turned aside to one which led to a precipice five
hundred feet in depth. Seeing their danger, they tried to retreat, but
the ever-increasing multitudes pressed closer and closer upon them,
forced them nearer to the precipice, and at last drove them all over
it. Not a man escaped, and although a few turned and fought with the
courage of despair, they were hurled over the precipice after their
comrades. The artist has represented this victory on the next page.
This was the victory over fire-arms which had inspired the Latookas
with such contempt for these weapons, and had it not been for Commoro’s
mediation, they would have attacked the English party. That subtle
chief, however, well knew the difference between assaulting an
assemblage of Turks and Africans among the rocky passes and attacking
in the open country a well-armed party commanded by Europeans. Such an
attack was once meditated, and Sir Samuel Baker’s account of it gives
an excellent idea of the Latooka mode of warfare. The reader must
remember that the war drum is an institution throughout the greater
part of Central Africa.
“It was about five P. M., one hour before sunset. The woman who usually
brought us water delivered her jar, but disappeared immediately after,
without sweeping the courtyard, as was her custom. Her children, who
usually played in this enclosure, vanished. On searching her hut, which
was in one corner of the yard, no one was to be found, and even the
grinding-stone was gone. Suspecting that something was in the wind, I
sent Karka and Gaddum-Her, the two black servants, to search in various
huts in the neighborhood to observe whether the owners were present,
and whether the women were in their houses. Not a woman could be found.
Neither woman nor child remained in the large town of Tarrangollé.
There was an extraordinary stillness, where usually all was noise
and chattering. All the women and children had been removed to the
mountains, about two miles distant, and this so quickly and noiselessly
that it appeared incredible.”
Commoro and Moy were then sent for, and said that the Turks had behaved
so badly, by robbing and beating the women, that the people were much
excited, and would endure it no longer; and, not being accustomed to
any travellers except slave-dealers, they naturally included Sir S.
Baker’s party in that category. Commoro, however, took his leave,
saying that he would do his best to quiet the people.
“The sun set, and, as is usual in tropical climates, darkness set in
within half an hour. Not a woman had returned to the town, nor was
the voice of a man to be heard. The natives had entirely forsaken the
portion of the town that both I and the Turks occupied. There was a
death-like stillness in the air. Even the Turks, who were usually
uproarious, were perfectly quiet; and, although my men made no remark,
it was plain that we were all occupied by the same thoughts, and that
an attack was expected.
“It was about nine o’clock, and the stillness had become almost
painful. There was no cry of a bird; not even the howl of a hyæna: the
camels were sleeping; but every man was wide awake, and the sentries
well on the alert. We were almost listening to the supernatural
stillness, if I may so describe the perfect calm, when suddenly every
one startled at the deep and solemn boom of the great war drum, or
nogara! Three distinct beats, at slow intervals, rang through the
apparently deserted town, and echoed loudly from the neighboring
mountain. It was the signal! A few minutes elapsed, and, like a distant
echo from the north, the three mournful notes again distinctly sounded.
Was it an echo? Impossible!
“Now from the south, far distant, but unmistakable, the same three
regular beats came booming through the still night air. Again and again
from every quarter, spreading far and wide, the signal was responded
to, and the whole country echoed these three solemn notes so full of
warning. Once more the great nogara of Tarrangollé sounded the original
alarm within a few hundred paces of our quarters. The whole country
was up. There was no doubt about the matter. The Turks well knew those
three notes to be the war signal of the Latookas....
[Illustration: (1.) THE LATOOKA VICTORY. (See page 456.)]
[Illustration: (2.) GORILLA HUNTING. (See page 543.)]
“The patrols shortly reported that large bodies of men were collecting
outside the town. The great nogara again beat, and was answered, as
before, from the neighboring villages; but the Turk’s drum kept up
an uninterrupted roll, as a challenge, whenever the nogara sounded.
Instead of the intense stillness, that had formerly been almost
painful, a distinct hum of voices betokened the gathering of large
bodies of men. However, we were well fortified, and the Latookas
knew it. We occupied the very stronghold which they themselves had
constructed for the defence of their town; and the square, being
surrounded with strong iron-wood palisades, with only a narrow
entrance, would be impregnable when held, as now, by fifty men well
armed against a mob whose best weapons were only lances.
“I sent men up the watchmen’s stations. These were about twenty-five
feet high; and, the night being clear, they could distinctly report the
movements of a large mass of natives that were ever increasing on the
outside of the town, at about two hundred yards distance. The rattle
of the Turk’s drum repeatedly sounded in reply to the nogara, and the
intended attack seemed destined to relapse into a noisy but empty
battle of the drums.”
Toward midnight Commoro came in person, and said that the nogara had
been beaten without his orders, and that he would try to quiet the
people. He admitted, however, that, if the exploring party had not
been on their guard, an attack would really have been made. After this
business, Sir Samuel very wisely determined to separate entirely from
the Turks, and therefore built himself a camp about a quarter of a mile
from the town, so that the Latookas might not again think that the two
parties had a common interest.
On the following morning the women appeared with their water jars as
usual, and the men, though still excited, and under arms, returned to
their homes. By degrees the excitement died away, and then they talked
over the affair with perfect frankness, admitting that an attack was
meditated, and rather amused that the intended victims should have been
aware of their plans.
The Latookas are not free from the vice of thieving, and, when employed
as porters, have exercised their craft with so little attempt at
concealment, that they have deliberately broken open the parcels which
they carried, not taking any notice of the fact that a sentry was
watching them within a few yards. Also they would occasionally watch
an opportunity, slip aside from the caravan, and sneak away with their
loads.
Funeral ceremonies differ among the Latookas according to the mode
of death. If a man is killed in battle, the body is not touched, but
is allowed to remain on the spot where it fell, to be eaten by the
hyænas and the vultures. But should a Latooka, whether man, woman,
or child, die a natural death, the body is disposed of in a rather
singular manner. Immediately after death, a shallow grave is dug in the
enclosure that surrounds each house, and within a few feet of the door.
It is allowed to remain here for several weeks, when decomposition is
usually completed. It is then dug up, the bones are cleaned and washed,
and are then placed in an earthenware jar, and carried about a quarter
of a mile outside the village.
No particular sanctity attaches itself either to the bones or the spot
on which they are deposited. The earthen jars are broken in course of
time, and the bones scattered about, but no one takes any notice of
them. In consequence of this custom the neighborhood of a large town
presents a most singular and rather dismal aspect, the ground being
covered with bones, skulls, and earthenware jars in various states
of preservation; and, indeed, the traveller always knows when he is
approaching a Latooka town by coming across a quantity of neglected
human remains.
The Latookas have not the least idea why they treat their dead in this
singular manner, nor why they make so strange a distinction between
the bodies of warriors who have died the death of the brave and those
who have simply died from disease, accident, or decay. Perhaps there
is no other country where the body of the dead warrior is left to the
beasts and birds, while those who die natural deaths are so elaborately
buried, exhumed, and placed in the public cemetery. Why they do so
they do not seem either to know or to care, and, as far as has been
ascertained, this is one of the many customs which has survived long
after those who practise it have forgotten its signification.
During the three or four weeks that elapse between the interment
and exhumation of the body funeral dances are performed. Great
numbers of both sexes take part in these dances, for which they
decorate themselves in a very singular manner. Their hair helmets are
supplemented by great plumes of ostrich feathers, each man wearing as
many as he can manage to fasten on his head, and skins of the leopard
or monkey are hung from their shoulders. The chief adornment, however,
is a large iron bell, which is fastened to the small of the back, and
which is sounded by wriggling the body after a very ludicrous fashion.
A faithful representation of one of these dances is given the reader on
page 465.
“A large crowd got up in this style created an indescribable hubbub,
heightened by the blowing of horns and the beating of seven nogaras of
various notes. Every dancer wore an antelope’s horn suspended round
the neck, which he blew occasionally in the height of his excitement.
These instruments produced a sound partaking of the braying of a donkey
and the screech of an owl. Crowds of men rushed round and round in a
sort of _galop infernel_, brandishing their arms and iron-headed maces,
and keeping tolerably in line live or six deep, following the leader,
who headed them, dancing backward.
“The women kept outside the line, dancing a slow, stupid step, while a
long string of young girls and small children, their heads and necks
rubbed with red ochre and grease, and prettily ornamented with strings
of beads round their loins, kept a very good line, beating time with
their feet, and jingling the numerous iron rings which adorned their
ankles to keep time to the drums.
“One woman attended upon the men, running through the crowd with a
gourdful of wood-ashes, handfuls of which she showered over their
heads, powdering them like millers: the object of the operation I could
not understand. The _première danseuse_ was immensely fat; she had
passed the bloom of youth, but, _malgré_ her unwieldy state, she kept
up the pace to the last, quite unconscious of her general appearance,
and absorbed with the excitement of the dance.”
These strange dances form a part of every funeral, and so, when several
persons have died successively, the funeral dances go on for several
months together. The chief Commoro was remarkable for his agility in
the funeral dances, and took his part in every such ceremony, no matter
whether it were for a wealthy or a poor man, every one who dies being
equally entitled to the funeral dance without any distinction of rank
or wealth.
The bells which are so often mentioned in those tribes inhabiting
Central Africa are mostly made on one principle, though not on
precisely the same pattern. These simple bells evidently derive their
origin from the shells of certain nuts, or other hard fruits, which,
when suspended, and a wooden clapper hung within them, can produce a
sound of some resonance.
The next advance is evidently the carving the bell out of some hard
wood, so as to increase its size and add to the power of its sound.
Next, the superior resonance of iron became apparent, and little bells
were made, shaped exactly like the before-mentioned nuts. This point
once obtained, the variety in the shape of the bells is evidently a
mere matter of caprice on the part of the maker.
One form approaches nearer to our familiar type of bell than any other,
and really bears a very close resemblance to the strangely-shaped bells
of Siam or Burmah. Instead of being flattened, as are the others, it is
tolerably wide, and is so formed that a transverse section of it would
give the figure of a quatrefoil.
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE SHIR, BARI, DJIBBA, NUEHR, DINKA, AND SHILLOOK TRIBES.
LOCALITY OF THE SHIR TRIBE -- THEIR PORTABLE PROPERTY -- DRESS AND
GENERAL APPEARANCE -- A STRANGE STORY -- BASKET MAKING -- THE BARI
TRIBE AND THEIR CHARACTER -- SLAVE DEALING -- BARI ARCHERS -- A
DARING SHARPSHOOTER -- THE BOY’S STRATAGEM -- ARCHITECTURE OF THE
BARI -- THE DJIBBA TRIBE -- THEIR NATIONAL PRIDE -- DJIBBA WEAPONS --
THE AXE, CLUB, AND KNIFE -- BRACELET -- THE SCALP-LOCKS ORNAMENT -- A
PROUD WARRIOR -- THE NOUAER OR NUEHR TRIBE -- THE CLAY WIG AND BEAD
HELMET -- THE CHIEF, JOCTIAN, AND HIS IMPORTUNITY -- NUEHR SALUTATION
-- THE DINKA TRIBE AND ITS WARLIKE CHARACTER -- ZENEB TO THE RESCUE
-- FEUD WITH THE SHILLOOKS AND BAGARAS -- DRESS OF THE DINKA --
TREACHERY, AND THE TABLES TURNED -- THE DINKA MARKET -- AN EMBASSY
OF PEACE -- THE SHILLOOKS, THEIR LOCALITY, DRESS, AND APPEARANCE --
THEIR PREDATORY HABITS -- SKILL IN BOATING -- A PASTORAL COLONY AND
ITS MANAGEMENT -- FISH-SPEARING -- A SHILLOOK FAMILY -- GOVERNMENT
AMONG THE SHILLOOKS -- MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.
As the Shir tribe are frequently mentioned by those travellers who
have passed through Central Africa, a brief mention of them will be
necessary. The Shir country extends on either side of the Nile, in lat.
6° N., and long. 30° E.
The men are remarkable for never stirring out of their villages without
all their personal property about them. Clothes, in our sense of the
word, are not considered as property, the principal article of costume
being a tuft or two of cock’s-feathers on the top of the head. But they
always carry their little stools slung on their backs, and no one ever
moves without his loved pipe. Upon their pipe they lavish all their
artistic powers, which, however, are not very considerable. Precious as
is iron in this country, being used, like gold in Europe, as a medium
of currency, the pipes are all mounted with this costly metal. The
bowls are made of clay, conical in shape, and having a couple of prongs
on which to rest. They are very large, holding quite a handful of
tobacco, and their mouthpieces are almost invariably made of iron.
Besides the implements of peace, the Shir always carry with them their
weapons of war. These consist of clubs, made of a kind of ebony, black,
solid, and heavy, a couple of lances, a bow, and a bundle of arrows, so
that their hands are quite full of weapons. The bows are always kept
strung, and the arrows are pointed with some hard wood, iron being too
costly a metal for such a purpose. They are about three feet in length,
and without feathers, so that they can only be used at a short distance.
The women, however, have some pretensions to dress. To a belt which
goes round the waist is attached a small lappet of leather, which hangs
in front. This is balanced behind by a sort of tail or long tassel of
very thin leather thongs, which reach nearly down to the knees. Captain
Speke remarks that this article of dress is probably the foundation
of the reports that in Central Africa there is a race of men who have
tails like horses. Such reports are rife, not only among Europeans, but
among the Central Africans themselves, each tribe seeming to think that
they are the only perfect race of men, and that all others have some
physical defect.
A very amusing instance of such a belief is narrated by Mr. Petherick,
a native having given him a most circumstantial account of tribes among
which he had been, and where he had seen some very singular people.
In one tribe, for example, he had seen people who, like the white
man, could kill at a great distance. But instead of having odd-shaped
pieces of wood and iron, which made a noise, they had bows and arrows,
which latter could not be extracted. Had he stopped here he might have
been believed, the only exaggeration being in the range of the weapon.
Unfortunately for his own character, he must needs add a number of
other circumstances, and proceeded to tell of a people who had four
eyes, two in the usual places and two behind, and who could therefore
walk backward as well as forward--like the decapitated lady in the
fairy tale, whose head was replaced wrong side forward, “which was very
useful in dressing her back hair.”
The next tribe through which he passed frightened him exceedingly.
They had the usual number of eyes, but one eye was under each arm, so
that, when they wanted to look about them, they were obliged to lift
up their arms. Not liking these strange companions, he went still
farther southward, and there he saw people with tails a yard in length,
and with faces like monkeys. But the most horrible people among whom
he travelled were dwarfs, who had such enormous ears that, when they
wished to rest for the night, they spread one ear beneath them for a
mattress, and the other above them by way of covering.
The strange part in connection with these wild tales is, that none of
them are new. To the lovers of old legends all these monstrous races of
men are perfectly familiar. Moreover, in that wonderful old book, the
“Nuremberg Chronicle,” there are woodcuts of all the strange people.
There are the Acephali; whose eyes are in their breasts; there are the
tailed men, the ape-faced men, the dwarfs, and the large-eared men. The
origin of several of these wild notions is evident enough, and it seems
probable that the idea of the large-eared race arose from the enormous
ears of the African elephant, one of which is large enough to shelter a
man beneath its covert.
To return to the Shir women. They are very fond of ornament, and nearly
all the iron in the country which is not used in the decoration of
pipes, or for the “spade-money,” is worn upon the legs of the women.
Rings of considerable thickness are fastened round the ankles, and a
woman of consideration will often have so many of these rings that they
extend far up the leg. As the women walk, these rings make a clanking
sound, as if they wore iron fetters; but among the Shir belles this
sound is thought to be very fashionable, and they cultivate the art of
walking so as to make the anklets clank as much as possible. There is
another ornament of which they are very fond. They take the shells of
the river mussel, and cut it into small circular pieces, about the size
of ordinary pearl buttons. These are strung together with the hair of
the giraffe’s-tail, which is nearly as strong as iron wire, and are
rather effective when contrasted with the black skins of the wearers.
Like the Wanyoro and other tribes, the Shir of both sexes knock out the
incisor teeth of the lower jaw.
These women are skilful as basket makers, the principal material being
the leaf of the dome or doom palm. I have a mat of their manufacture,
which is woven so neatly and closely, and with so tasteful an
arrangement of colors, that it might easily be taken for the work of an
European. It is oval, and about eighteen inches in diameter. The centre
is deep-red, surrounded by alternate rings of red and black, which have
a very admirable effect upon the pale-yellow of the mat itself.
The food of the Shir tribe consists largely of the lotus-seed, the
white species being that which is commonly used. Just before the seed
is ripe it is gathered in the pod, which looks something like an
artichoke, and contains a vast quantity of little grains, rather like
those of the poppy both in size and flavor. When gathered, the pods are
bored and strung upon reeds about four feet in length. They are then
taken into the village, dried in the sun, and stored away for food. The
fruit of the doom palm is also ground and used as flour.
There is one very strange kind of diet which prevails along the upper
part of the White Nile. The people have large herds of cattle, and they
not only live on the milk, but bleed them monthly, and cook the blood
with their flour and meal.
THE BARI.
Between lat. 4° and 8° N. and long. 31° 33´ E. there are several tribes
so peculiar as to deserve a brief notice before we pass westward to the
land of the negroes. The first of these is the Bari tribe, which is
situated on the eastern bank of the Nile.
They are a warlike and dangerous tribe, being well armed, and capable
of using their weapons, so that a traveller who wishes to pass
safely through their land must be able to show an armed front. When
Captains Speke and Grant passed through their country, an umbrella was
accidentally left behind, and some of the men sent to fetch it. The
Bari, however, drew up in battle array, evidently knowing that without
their leaders the men might be safely bullied, so that the umbrella was
left to the mercies of the Bari chief.
Owing to their position on the Nile, they do a great business in the
slave trade, for as far as Gondokoro, the capital of the Bari country,
steamers have been able to ascend the river. Consequently, every party
of strangers is supposed--and mostly with truth--to be a slaving
expedition, and is dreaded by one part of the population, while it is
courted by the other. The quarrelsome disposition of the Bari has
often brought them into collision with the traders, and, as might be
imagined, the superior arms and discipline of the latter have given
them such a superiority, that the Bari are not as troublesome as they
used to be. Still, they are always on the watch for an opportunity of
extortion, and, if a traveller even sits under a tree, they will demand
payment for its shade.
When Sir S. Baker was at Gondokoro, he was looked upon as a spy and
opposer of the slave-trade, and consequently ran much greater risk of
being killed than among the acknowledged savage tribes of the interior.
And as the slave dealers had further complicated matters by stealing
cattle from one sub-tribe, with which they bought slaves from another,
the journey through Bari-land was certain to be most perilous, and
probably would be rendered impossible.
Once they organized a regular attack upon the party, stationing
themselves on either side of a rocky gorge through which the road
ran, and keeping up a continual discharge of their poisoned arrows.
Fortunately, some of the natives, brilliant in their scarlet war paint,
had been seen ahead of the gorge, and preparations had been made for
receiving the attack. They ran along the rocks like monkeys, every now
and then halting to discharge a poisoned arrow, and then running on in
readiness for another shot. They showed much courage on the occasion,
coming within fifty or sixty yards of the armed escort, in spite of
their fire-arms, which they seemed justifiably to despise, as the men
who carried them had no idea of aim, and, provided that they pointed a
musket somewhere toward the enemy, and fired it, thought that they had
done all that was required.
However, the Bari were quite as bad as archers, and not a single
arrow took effect. Many were diverted from their line by the branches
of trees and the clusters of bamboo, while those that flew straight
were easily avoided, on account of the weakness and stiffness of the
bow, which would only project them feebly and slowly. The end of the
skirmish was that, although the leader of the expedition did not
think it worth while to fire at so insignificant an enemy, one of the
Bari was somehow shot through the body, probably by a bullet aimed at
somebody else, and a few were thought to be wounded. They then took to
their heels and ran off.
During the march the Bari still hung about the caravan, and at night
completely surrounded it, their forms being quite invisible unless the
sentinel lay on the ground, and contrived to see the outline of their
forms above the horizon. They even were audacious enough to creep close
to the camp, and discharge their arrows at random into it, in the hope
of hitting some one; but this mode of assault was effectually checked
by a volley of buckshot, which killed one of the most daring of them.
When his body was found next morning, lying about thirty yards from the
camp, the bow was in his hand, and a supply of poisoned arrows by his
side. Four of his arrows were afterward found in the camp, and their
ingeniously barbed heads charged with deadly poison showed that the
death of the former owner was well deserved.
It was fortunate for the travellers that the Bari are such wretched
archers, as the arrows, when they do strike a man, are tolerably
sure to kill him. The poison with which they are imbued has not the
rapidity of action which distinguishes that of the Bosjesman, but it is
scarcely less formidable, though less swift. The effect of the poison
is to destroy the life of the surrounding flesh, so that a limb which
has been pierced by one of the arrows is attacked by a slow kind of
mortification, and thus the wound ensures death, which is far more
painful, because so much slower, than that which is caused by the
poison-grub, the euphorbia juice, or the venom of the serpent.
Unpleasant as these Bari are in their ordinary state, they can be
trained into good and faithful attendants, and are excellent material
for soldiers. On one occasion, when a large party of the Madi had
attacked a body of traders, killed the standard-bearer, and nearly
carried off the standard itself, a young Bari boy came to the rescue,
shot with his pistol the man who was carrying off the standard,
snatched it from him, and took it safely to his master.
One of these Bari lads, a drummer named Arnout, saved the life of his
master by a stratagem. While the latter was reloading his gun, he was
attacked by several natives, when young Arnout ran up, and, though
weaponless, presented his drumstick at the enemy. Thinking it to be
some novel kind of fire-arm, the assailants ran away, leaving Arnout
master of the field.
The appearance of the Bari is rather remarkable. Their heads are round
and bullet-shaped, with low foreheads, and much development behind the
ears and at the nape of the neck, so that the general conformation of
the head is anything but pleasing, and is a good index to the character
of the people. As they shave their heads, the formation of the skull
is easily seen. They are a tall, well-grown, and well-fed people, thus
being a great contrast to the Kytch and several other tribes; and,
although they wear but little clothing, they contrive to spend much
time on personal adornment. The men shave the whole of their heads,
with the exception of a little tuft of hair on the top, which is
preserved as an attachment for a few feathers from a cock’s tail. When
they go to war, and even in their own villages, they rub themselves
with a kind of vermilion mixed with grease, and cover the whole of
their persons with this pigment. The men never stir without their
weapons, which consist of a bow, arrows, and a spear.
The bow is fully six feet in length, and looks a very formidable
weapon; but it is so stiff and inelastic that, as has been already
mentioned, it cannot propel the heavy arrows with much force. The
arrows are cruelly barbed, and the butt of the shaft is spread out so
as to allow a wide notch to be cut in it. This widened butt is seen in
arrows throughout a large part of Africa; and there is now before me a
Zanzibar quiver, full of arrows, kindly presented by J. A. Wood, Esq.,
R.N. These arrows are made with wonderful neatness, but are spoiled
in appearance by the width of the butt. How the natives can use these
arrows without having their left hand cut to pieces by the butt is
really wonderful; and as it must strike against the bow, and deflect
the arrow from its intended course, the wretched archery of the natives
is accounted for.
Besides his weapon, the Bari man always carries his stool, slinging
the latter behind him. When he stands, he has an odd mode of reposing
himself, which reminds the observer of the stork, flamingo, and other
long-shanked birds. One foot rests on the ground, while the other is
pressed against the leg just below the knee, and the man steadies
himself by resting the butt of the spear on the ground. Generally, the
bow, arrows, and pipe are tucked between the legs while the owner is
standing.
The women shave the whole of their heads, and, by way of dress, wear a
little apron about six inches square, sometimes made of beads strung
together, and sometimes of iron rings linked in each other like chain
mail. These last aprons are much valued. They also adorn themselves
by making a vast quantity of semi-circular scars on the body, from the
breast down to the waist, so that at a little distance they look as if
they wore a cuirass of scales. They are as fond of the vermilion and
grease as their husbands, and the effect of this pigment on the scars
is to increase the resemblance to scale armor.
The houses are neatly built. Each family resides within a considerable
space surrounded by a hedge of euphorbia, and the whole of the interior
is levelled, and carefully laid down with a sort of cement, composed
of wood-ashes, cow-dung, and clay. This mixture soon dries in the sun,
and forms a kind of asphalt, so that it can be swept easily. The huts
are floored with the same material, and both they and the enclosure are
kept scrupulously clean. The homestead (see engraving) consists of a
number of huts, according to the size of the family; and near them are
placed the granaries, which are carefully raised on posts.
As is the case in so many parts of Africa, the roof of the circular hut
projects for some distance beyond the low walls, so as to form a sort
of shady veranda. The door of the hut is not more than two feet high.
This form of hut reminds the traveller of the Bechuana houses, while
another custom is almost exactly identical with one which is practised
among the Damaras. If the reader will refer to page 302, he will see
a representation of a Damara tomb. The Bari bury their dead within
the enclosure of the homestead, and in like manner fix a pole in the
ground, and tie to it the horns and skulls of oxen. In order to show
that it is the tomb of a Bari, a tuft of cock’s feathers is fastened to
the top of the pole, in imitation of that which the deceased once bore
on his head.
THE DJIBBA.
Proceeding still northward, and diverging a little to the east, we come
to a large and formidable tribe called the Djibba. Their territory
is situated about lat. 7° N. and long. 34° E., and occupies a large
tract of country almost encircled by the Sobat River, one of the many
tributaries of the Nile.
The Djibba are a bold and warlike tribe. They are not negroes, neither
are they black, their color being a dark brown. Their stature is tall,
and, except in color, they bear much resemblance to the Shillooks,
who will be presently described. It has been thought that they may be
an offshoot of that tribe, but they indignantly deny any relationship
either to the Shillook or any other tribe; and even hold themselves
aloof from the warlike Dinkas, with whom so many inferior tribes are
only too glad to claim relationship.
These people are essentially warriors, and have a most remarkable set
of weapons. Spears of course they possess, and he is a happy man who
has a weapon with an iron head. Iron is scarce in the Djibba country,
and, in consequence, many of the warriors are obliged to content
themselves with fastening the sharp horns of antelopes to their spear
shaft, until they can manage to procure the coveted iron head. When a
Djibba warrior does possess so valuable a weapon, he takes very great
care of it, keeping the edges as sharp as a razor, and covering the
head with a hide sheath. The sheath is attached to the shaft by a
thong, so that there shall be no danger of losing it, and it is never
uncovered except when the spear is to be used. They also have clubs and
axes of different shapes. The most common club is formed from a dark,
hard, and heavy wood, and is remarkable for the mushroom-like shape
of the head. This shape is particularly mentioned, because it is a
favorite one in Central Africa, and among the Dôr tribe expands until
it is exactly like a large flat-headed mushroom, with sharp edges. The
most characteristic form of axe resembles the battle-axe of the Middle
Ages, which was equally adapted for thrusting or striking.
[Illustration: (1.) A BARI HOMESTEAD. (See page 464.)]
[Illustration: (2.) FUNERAL DANCE. (See page 459.)]
If the reader will refer to p. 449, he will see, over the title
“Bracelets,” two objects which serve the double purpose of ornaments
and weapons. As is evident from their shape, they are worn on the
wrist, so that the wearer is never entirely unarmed. The Djibba workman
takes a thin plate of iron, sharpens the edges, and cuts a row of deep
notches along them; he then rolls it longitudinally, so as to form half
a cylinder; and, lastly, bends it round into the form of a bracelet.
When it is placed on the wrist, the two ends are pressed or hammered
together, until the bracelet is held firmly in its place.
Another far more formidable weapon, fig. 2, is a bracelet made of a
flat plate of iron, about an inch and a half in width. On the inside
it is very thick, a quarter of an inch at least, and it is thinned
gradually to the edge, which is kept exceedingly sharp. In order to
prevent it from injuring the wearer, a sort of sheath of stout leather
runs round the edge, and is held in its place by its own elasticity,
so that it can be pulled off in a moment, and replaced almost as
quickly. Whenever the warrior comes to close quarters, he strips off
the leathern sheath, and, rushing in upon his adversary, strikes at the
face with the sharp edge, or, flinging the left arm round him, cuts
his naked body almost into pieces with rapid strokes of this terrible
weapon.
A well-armed Djibba warrior also carries a club made on exactly the
same principle. It is about the size of an ordinary racket, and very
nearly the same shape, except that the flattened portion is not so
regular. Indeed, if an ordinary golf-club had a head which could be
flattened out until it was about a foot long, and seven or eight inches
wide, it would almost exactly resemble the “assaya,” as this club is
called. The edge of the weapon is kept very sharp, and is guarded by
a sheath of hide exactly like that of the knife-bracelet. The New
Zealanders formerly used an axe-club of similar construction, though
very much larger.
In the illustration on page 449, entitled “Scalp-locks,” is shown
another proof of the essentially warlike nature of the Djibba tribe.
When a Djibba warrior kills a foe in battle, he cuts off his head, and
takes it home with him; he then cuts a number of leathern thongs,
removes all the hair from the head of the enemy, and hands them both to
a friend, who undertakes the office of decorating the victor with the
proofs of valor.
First the thongs are plaited into sixteen or seventeen bands, a part of
one being shown of its original size at fig. 2. One end of the bands is
then woven firmly into the back of the head, and is so managed, that as
the hair grows it renders the fastening more and more secure. The hair
of the dead man is then matted together into a sort of felt, about a
quarter of an inch in thickness, and sewed firmly to the under side of
the leathern bands. This process being accomplished, the Djibba warrior
stalks proudly forth, feeling himself every inch a man, and enjoying
the envy and admiration of those who have not as yet been fortunate
enough to attain such an honorable trophy.
Whenever he kills another enemy, he adds to the length, but not to
the width, of this singular ornament; and as he despoils the slain
man of all his ornaments, he is able to buy cowries with which to
enhance the beauty of his scalp-locks, fastening them in rows along
the leathern bands. A warrior of eminence will sometimes have this
trophy of inordinate length. I have seen one that was brought over by
Mr. Petherick, which was so long that, when a man of ordinary height
placed it on his head, the end trailed on the ground. It was so thickly
covered with cowries, that the leathern bands and hair could not be
seen until it was lifted up, and the proud owner had also extended the
cowries over the top of his head nearly to the eyes in front, and over
the ears on either side. The weight of this ornament was enormous, and
it is really wonderful that any amount of pride could have induced any
man to subject himself to such discomfort. The celebrated pearl suit of
Prince Esterhazy must have been singularly uncomfortable, but then it
was only worn on special occasions, whereas the Djibba warrior cannot
relieve himself of his honorable but weighty decoration.
The existence of such an ornament shows that the Djibba are fond
of decoration. They are moderately well clothed, wearing goat-skin
dresses, with the hairy side outward. The dress passes over the left
shoulder, leaving the right arm free, and then goes round the waist,
descending to mid-thigh. Ivory armlets of good workmanship are worn on
the upper arm, heavy belts of cowries are tied round the waist, and
both the ankles and waist are ornamented with polished iron rings.
THE NUEHR.
We now come to another of those remarkable tribes which inhabit Central
Africa.
About lat. 9° N. and long. 25° E. there is a large district inhabited
by a tribe called the Nuehr or Nouaer. Contrary to the usual custom,
this tribe possesses land on both sides of the Nile, which in the
midst of their territory spreads itself into a lake. The Nuehr are a
fine-looking race of savages, and very like savages they look. The
men are tall, powerful, and well-formed, but their features approach
the negro type, and are heavier and coarser than those of the tribes
which have been previously mentioned. The women are not nearly so
good-looking as the men, and are rather clumsily built.
Neither sex is much troubled with clothes. The males never wear any
clothes at all; nor do the females, until they are married, when they
tie a fringe of grass round their waists, some of the wealthier women
being able to use a leathern fringe, of which they are very proud.
Their ornaments really seem to serve no other purpose but to disfigure
the wearers as much as possible. Beginning with the head, the men stain
their woolly hair of a dusty red by a mixture of which ashes form the
chief part. They then take a sort of pipe-clay, and plaster it thickly
into the hair at the back part of the head, dressing it up and shaping
it until it is formed into a cone, the shape of the ornament varying
according to the caprice of the individual. By means of this clay
headdress the hair is thrown back from the face, the expression of
which is not improved by the horizontal lines that are tattooed across
it.
A headdress of remarkable beauty was brought from this tribe by Mr.
Petherick, and is now in the collection of Colonel Lane Fox. It is
white, in imitation of the white clay with which the head is usually
decorated, and is made of cylindrical beads shaped as if they were
pieces of tobacco pipe. These beads, or bugles, as they ought perhaps
to be called, are threaded on string, and fastened together in a
very ingenious manner. The singular point in this headdress is the
exact resemblance to the soldier’s casque of ancient Egypt, and to
the helmets now in use in India, and other parts of the world. (See
“Helmet,” page 449.)
The natural glossy black of the skin, which has so pleasing an
appearance, is utterly destroyed by a coating of wood ashes, which
gives to the surface a kind of grayish look. On the upper arm they
generally wear a large armlet of ivory, and have heavy coils of beads
round their necks. The wrists are adorned with rings of copper and
other ornaments, and on the right wrist they carry an iron ring armed
with projecting blades, very similar to that which is worn by the
Latookas.
Joctian, the chief of the Nuehr tribe, was asked by Sir S. Baker what
was the use of this weapon, and by way of answer he simply pointed to
his wife’s arms and back, which were covered with scars produced by
this primitive wife-tamer. He seemed quite proud of these marks, and
evidently considered them merely as ocular proofs that his wife was
properly subservient to her husband. In common with the rest of his
tribe, he had a small bag slung round his neck by way of a pocket,
which held bits of wood, beads, and all kinds of trifles. He asked for
everything he saw, and, when anything of small size was given him, it
straightway went into the bag.
Still, putting aside these two traits of cruelty and covetousness,
Joctian seems to have been a tolerably agreeable savage, and went away
delighted with the presents he had received, instead of grumbling
that he could not get more, as is the usual way among savage chiefs.
It was rather strange that, although he was so charmed with beads and
bracelets, he declined to accept a knife, saying that it was useless
to him. He had in his hands a huge pipe, holding nearly a quarter of
a pound of tobacco. Every Nuehr man has one of these pipes, which
he always carries with him, and, should his supply of tobacco be
exhausted, he lights a piece of charcoal, puts it into his pipe, and
inhales the vapor that it draws from the tobacco-saturated bowl.
The women are not so much adorned as the men, probably because the
stronger sex prefer to use the ornaments themselves. At a little
distance the women all look as if they were smoking cigarettes. This
odd appearance is caused by a strange ornament which they wear in their
upper lip. They take a piece of iron wire, about four inches in length,
and cover it with small beads. A hole is then pierced in the upper lip,
and the ornament inserted, so as to project forward and rather upward.
The Nuehr are very fond of beads, and are glad to exchange articles of
food for them. One kind of bead, about the size and shape of a pigeon’s
egg, is greatly valued by them; and, when Mr. Petherick was travelling
through their country, he purchased an ox for eight such beads. The
chief came on board the boat, and, as usual, asked for everything he
saw. Among other odd things, he set his affections on Mr. Petherick’s
shoes, which, as they were nearly worn out, were presented to him. Of
course they were much too small for him, and the attempts which he made
to put them on were very amusing. After many failures, he determined on
taking them home, where he thought he might be able to get them on by
greasing his feet well.
When the chief entered the cabin, and saw the wonders of civilized
life, he was quite overcome with the novel grandeur, and proceeded
to kneel on one knee, in order to give the salutation due to a great
chief. “Grasping my right hand, and turning up the palm, he quietly
spat into it, and then, looking into my face, he deliberately repeated
the process. Staggered at the man’s audacity, my first impulse was to
knock him down, but, his features expressing kindness only, I vented
my rage by returning the compliment with all possible interest. His
delight seemed excessive, and, resuming his seat, he expressed his
conviction that I must be a great chief. Similar salutes followed with
each of his attendants, and friendship was established.” This strange
salutation extends through many of the tribes that surround the Nuehr;
but in some, as for example the Kytch, the saluter merely pretends to
spit in the hand of his friend, and does not really do so.
THE DINKA.
Still south of the Nuehr tribe we come to a singular district extending
on either side of the Nile. This country is inhabited by two tribes,
who are both warlike, both at deadly feud with each other, and both
fond of making unexpected raids into the enemy’s country. The tribe
that inhabits the left or west bank is called the Shillook, and that
which occupies the eastern bank is the Dinka or Denka tribe. We will
take the Dinkas first.
They have more of the negro in their aspect than the tribe which
has just been described. They include many smaller or sub-tribes,
all of which speak the same language, or at least a dialect of it.
Without going into any minute details as to the peculiarity of each
division, we will simply take the leading characteristics of the great
and formidable Dinka tribe. That they are exceedingly warlike has
already been stated. Indeed, had they not been so, they would long ago
have been exterminated; for, what with the incessant inroads of the
Shillooks and Bagaras from the west, and various Arab tribes from the
north and east, they could not have held their own had they not been
brave men, and trained to arms.
The martial spirit extends even to the women, and was once of very
great service to Sir Samuel Baker, while on his travels. A dangerous
quarrel had suddenly arisen, and a number of Arabs were attacking the
white leaders, some being armed with swords and the others with spears.
One of the latter had got behind Sir Samuel’s headman, and was about to
make a thrust with his lance. There happened to be with the exploring
party a Dinka woman, named Zeneb, and, as soon as she saw the _émeute_,
she snatched up the heavy handle of an axe, rushed into the thickest of
the fray, knocked down the Arab with a blow on his head, and instantly
twisted his spear out of his hand, while he was stunned with the
unexpected blow. This timely aid was the turning point in the skirmish,
and in a minute or two the Arabs were conquered and disarmed. Zeneb had
afterward the satisfaction of smashing the lances of the vanquished
Arabs, and boiling the coffee with the fragments.
The principal weapon of the Dinkas is the lance, but they also use
clubs of various shapes. In form they strongly remind the observer of
certain clubs in use among the Polynesians, and indeed might easily be
mistaken for such weapons. The club is employed for a double purpose.
It is held in the left hand, and used as a shield, with which to turn
aside the lance thrust of the enemy, and, when the enemy has been
wounded, the club is ready for the operation of knocking out his brains.
Warlike as they may be, the Dinkas are not so actively aggressive as
their neighbors, the Shillooks, and never frequent the banks of the
Nile unless compelled to do so by drought. They are agriculturists
after a fashion, and keep vast herds of cattle, and it is chiefly on
account of their cattle that they are sometimes forced to approach
the river bank, and so to expose themselves to the attacks of their
inveterate foes, the Shillooks and Bagaras, who not only steal their
cattle, but carry off their women and children. The Bagaras are
excellent horsemen, and swim their steeds across the river, placing
one hand on the animal’s quarters, and swimming alongside. They are
also great elephant hunters, pursuing their mighty game on horseback,
armed only with a spear, leaping from the horse and inflicting a mortal
wound, and springing on their steeds again before the elephant has had
time to turn himself.
The dress of both sexes is simple enough. The men wear a piece of skin
attached to a girdle, but it hangs behind and not before, except on
occasions of ceremony, when it is carefully brought round to the front.
Beads are of course worn, the quantity varying according to the means
of the possessor. The married women wear small aprons, and the girls
and children nothing at all, with the exception of beads and other
ornaments. Like those of the Nuehr tribe, the Dinka women perforate the
upper lip, and place in it a little bit of stick covered with beads.
The women are not at all pretty, whatever good looks they may have had
being completely neutralized by the habit of shaving the head. The
girls are very fond of an ornament, which is a series of hollow iron
cones, about half an inch or so in diameter at the bottom, and tapering
to a point above. Through the upper part a hole is bored, so that the
cones can be strung on a leathern thong. They are of very different
lengths; those which come in front being about four inches long, while
those at the back measure barely two inches. As the girl walks about,
this waistband gives forth a pleasant tinkling, of which the wearer is
extremely proud. Such an ornament is extremely prized, and, as it is
almost indestructible, it is handed down from mother to child, and so
there is scarcely a Dinka maiden who does not possess one.
The pursuits of the Dinkas in time of peace are mostly limited to
hunting and tending cattle. Agriculture is rather despised, and left
to the women, and the consequence is, that the capabilities of the
soil are never fairly developed. Indeed, they only till small patches
of ground near their huts, and there cultivate maize, millet, gourds,
yams, nuts, cotton, capsicum, and similar plants. They seldom eat the
flesh of their cattle, unless a cow happens to die a natural death, in
which case a great feast is held: for their supplies of meat they trust
almost entirely to their skill in hunting. The rich live principally on
the milk of their cattle, and, should they have more milk than they can
consume, they barter it with other tribes for grain. They are clever
fishermen, and those who are not well off are accustomed to frequent
the banks of rivers or lakes, trying to kill the hippopotamus, and in
the mean time subsisting on fish. They have an ingenious method of
transporting fish to a distance by wrapping them in thick clay, and, as
this covering can be made air-tight, the fish can be kept for several
days even in so hot a country.
Agriculture being thus neglected, it naturally follows that great
distress is occasionally felt in the country, great numbers being
reduced to spend the whole of their time in searching for grains and
berries. Sometimes they hire themselves as servants, and take care of
the herds; and in bad years it is not uncommon to find in the bush the
bodies of men, women, and children, who have died from hunger in a
country which is capable of supplying both the necessaries and luxuries
of life.
With one branch of the Dinka tribe, Mr. Petherick remained for some
time, and had a good opportunity for studying their manners. His first
reception was not a promising one, as the chief fully intended to take
by force all the beads that had been brought for the purchase of
ivory, and threatened destruction to the whole party if this modest
notion were not at once carried out. However, the discharge of a gun,
and its effects at a distance, terrified the chief to such an extent,
that he was very glad to assume a more humble tone. The next stratagem
was to frighten away all the porters, so that the merchandise could
not be carried out of the country, and to cut off the supply of water
and provisions, in order to force Mr. Petherick and his party to leave
the district. Indeed, the chief stated plainly that, as they could not
remove their goods out of his country, the best plan would be to hand
them over at once, and proceed on their journey.
Previous to these events, the life of the same traveller had been
endangered by an alliance of six Dinka tribes against him, they having
imbibed the usual notion that the only object of a white man in coming
into their territory was to destroy the slave-trade, and bring white
enemies among them. This was while he was among the Dôr tribe, with
some of whom the Dinkas had already contrived to pick a quarrel. He
therefore fenced in his camp very strongly, and, by erecting a kind of
bastion at each angle, made it so formidable a fortress that the Dinkas
were afraid to attack it. They hung about the place for six weeks, and
at last Mr. Petherick determined on striking a bold stroke, and turning
the tables upon them. Knowing the exceeding value which they placed
on cattle, he thought that if he could carry off one of their herds
they would be brought to their senses. He sent off a detachment of his
party, who seized six hundred head of cattle, besides sheep and goats
innumerable. As had been anticipated, the Dinkas, who really value
their cattle much more than human life, were terror-stricken, and came
humbly suing for peace. This was granted, on their giving in their
submission, and the cattle were handed over to a Dôr chief, in order
to provide food for his village. However, the Dinkas kept bad faith,
for they continually hung upon Mr. Petherick’s line of march; and once
a sub-tribe, called Ajack, had the temerity to make an open charge.
Of course they were at once repulsed, with a loss of several dead and
wounded; but in consequence of these repeated attacks it was found
necessary to halt for the night in some cattle-shed, and to loop-hole
the walls for musketry.
A considerable trade in beads and tusks was done among the Dinka
tribe, who at last became rather sharp dealers. Mr. Petherick gives
an amusing account of one of their markets:--“After fifteen days’
tedious tracking, we made fast under some Dinka villages situated on
its southern bank, where we succeeded in bartering numerous tusks from
the natives, who received us with open arms, in the hope that we would
defend them, in case of emergency, from the aggressions of the Nuehr.
“I proceeded on shore to meet them, accompanied by an interpreter, a
man bearing a bag of various kinds of beads, and half a dozen armed
men, to guard against treachery, which, considering the negroes were
armed with clubs and lances, was a necessary precaution. My interpreter
and myself seated ourselves opposite to the owner of the tusk, who
obstinately retained his seat, refusing us an inspection of it. Placing
a hide on the ground, a variety of beads, cowrie-shells, and copper
bracelets were displayed thereon. The beauty of these provoked striking
signs of approbation, the vender and bystanders grinning and rubbing
their stomachs with both hands. A consultation then took place between
the party and his friends as to the relative merits of the beads, which
resulted in the following dialogue:--
“_Vendor._--‘Ah! your beads are beautiful, but the bride (tusk) I offer
is lovely: like yourself, she is white and tall, and worthy of great
price.’
“_Self._--‘Truly the beauty of the bride is undeniable; but, from what
I can see of her, she is cracked, whilst my beads are perfect.’
“_Vendor._--‘The beads you offer are truly beautiful, but I think they
must have been gathered before they were ripe.’
“_Self._--‘Oh, no! they were gathered when mature, and their color is
peculiar to them, and you will find that they will wear as well as the
best red; they came from a different country.’
“_Vendor._--‘Well, let me have some more of them.’
“His request being complied with, rising from the tusk and throwing
himself upon the beads, he collected them greedily; at the same time
the possession of the tusk was disputed by half a dozen negroes, who,
stating they had assisted to carry it on their shoulders, claimed a
recompense. On this being complied with by a donation to each man,
another set of men came forward under the same pretence, and the tusk
was seized by my men at one extremity, whilst they had hold of the
other, and in perfect good humor struggled for its possession: at last,
to cut the matter short, I threw handfuls of beads among the crowd,
which resulted in the immediate abandonment of the tusk for a scramble
after them. In the meantime the purchase was carried off and safely
lodged on board.”
When Mr. Petherick passed through the same country in 1856, the
Ajack sub-tribe thought that they had better make peace with so
formidable a visitor, and accordingly the chief Anoin begged him to
rest for the night at one of their villages, and favorably concluded a
treaty of amity. As soon as the camp had been made, and the sentries
set, a number of young girls--some of them really good-looking, for
Africans--arrived with milk and flour, and were delighted with some
beads, which they added to their attire; this consisting of bead
strings round their necks, waists, and ankles. Encouraged by their
reception, others arrived in succession, and set to work at grinding
corn and boiling porridge as if they had belonged to the expedition all
their lives.
Suddenly a whistle was heard in the distance, and scarcely had the
sound died away, when all the women had vanished, and a dead silence
succeeded to the merry chatter which had filled the place. After a
while a strange voice was heard in the surrounding darkness, asking
for permission to approach, and, when an assuring answer was returned,
Anoin and his brother stepped into the light of the watch-fires,
followed by a number of men leading an ox. They were fully armed; but
their dress consisted merely of a piece of leopard skin slung over
Anoin’s shoulder as a mark of rank. Anoin wore bracelets of copper,
while those of his companions were of iron. Both he and his brother
wore caps made of white beads sewed tightly on soft hide. The beads
were strung on cotton threads, spun by themselves with a distaff and
spindle, and a thorn had served the purpose of a needle.
After seating themselves, Anoin began a speech, offering peace,
and presenting the bullock as a proof of sincerity. The animal was
accepted, and in less than an hour the only relics of the ox were the
white and polished bones scattered on the ground. A number of smaller
chiefs then assembled, and all proceeded to greet Mr. Petherick by the
usual, though scarcely agreeable, custom of spitting in his face, and
they then proceeded to business.
First, the Dinka chiefs laid their spears and clubs in the middle
of the circle, and then Mr. Petherick laid upon them his rifle and
pistols. The chief next stepped over the heap several times, and
vowed that neither he nor any of his tribe would ever use the weapons
against the white man, and wishing that, if the oath were broken, he
should be the first to perish by the weapons of the aggrieved party.
Mr. Petherick went through the same ceremony himself, and a copious
indulgence in beer and pipes cemented the alliance.
THE SHILLOOKS.
Exactly on the opposite bank of the White Nile is found the great
Shillook tribe, with which the Dinka is always at feud. The Shillooks
are a tall and finely-made race of men, approaching very closely to
the negro, being black, with woolly hair. The flat nose and enormous
lips of the true negro are, however, absent, and only in a few cases is
there an approach toward that structure.
The Shillook men are very fond of ornament, though dress is not
considered necessary. Their ornaments are similar to those which have
already been described, and consist chiefly of iron bracelets, anklets,
and bead necklaces. They have also one rather singular decoration.
This is an enormous ivory ring, which is worn above the elbow of the
right arm. It is concave on the inside, and is so large that it is used
as a pocket for holding small objects. Small caps of black ostrich
plumes decorate their heads, and many of these caps are ornamented
with a circle of cowrie shells in the middle. Their weapons are clubs
and lances, the latter being very long, and having iron wire twisted
round the butt, so as to counterbalance the head. They also carry the
remarkable bow-like shield which has been already mentioned.
The women wear no clothing until marriage, and then assume a couple of
pieces of dressed hide, one in front and the other behind. These hides
reach nearly to the ankles, and are decorated round the lower edge with
iron rings and bells. The heads are shaved, and the ears are bored
all round their edges with a number of holes, from which hang small
clusters of beads.
The villages of the Shillooks are built very regularly, and in fact are
so regular as to be stiff and formal in appearance. The houses are made
of reeds, tall, of nearly the same height, and placed close to each
other in regular rows or streets, and when seen from a distance are
compared by Sir S. Baker to rows of button mushrooms.
The Shillooks are quite an accomplished people, being warlike,
pastoral, agricultural, piscatorial, and having a well-defined
government. Not only do they keep up the continual feud with their
powerful neighbors, the Dinkas, but they take advantage of the
overflowing of the Nile to launch their canoes, drop quietly down the
river, and attack the Arab population on either bank. So bold are they,
that on several occasions they descended the river nearly half way to
Khartoum, hid their canoes in the reeds, and crossed the country to
Sennaar or the Blue Nile. Taking the inhabitants by surprise, they
carried off numbers of women and children as slaves, drove away large
herds of cattle, re-embarked, and got safely home with their spoil. At
length the Egyptian Government was obliged to interfere, and had to
place troops between the White and Blue Nile. Besides their canoes, the
Shillooks make most ingenious vessels, which are a sort of compromise
between a raft and a canoe.
In this part of Africa there is a tree called the ambatch, or ambadj
(_Anemone mirabilis_). This tree grows tolerably straight, and tapers
gradually from the ground to the tip. It never grows to any great
size, and the wood is almost as light as cork. To make a raft, the
Shillook cuts a sufficient number of ambadj trees, lays them side by
side, and lashes them firmly to each other. The tapering ends are then
drawn together with cords, and also lashed firmly, and the result is a
singularly effective and buoyant raft, easily guided from its shape,
and so light that a man can carry it on his shoulders. When these rafts
are taken out of the water, they are placed upright on their bases, and
two or three are supported against each other, just as soldiers pile
their arms. One of these rafts, nine feet in length, and only four feet
wide at the stern, can carry two men.
The Shillooks are very clever in the management of their rafts, which
they propel with small paddles; and even the little boys may be seen
paddling about, not in the least afraid of the swarming crocodiles, but
always carrying a lance with which to drive off the horrid reptiles if
they attempt an attack.
When Mr. Petherick was passing through this country, the daring
Shillooks had established a small colony on the eastern or Dinka bank
of the river, on account of the good pasturage. As soon as the Dinka
had withdrawn toward the interior, the Shillooks crossed over, built
a number of reed huts, ran an extemporized fence round them, and then
brought over their cattle. They had plenty of outposts inland, and as
soon as the enemy were reported the Shillooks embarked in their rafts,
and paddled over to their own side of the river, the cattle plunging
into the water in obedience to a well-known call, and following the
canoes and rafts of their masters. Strange to say, the crocodiles do
not meddle with cattle under such circumstances.
Aided by their rafts, the Shillooks employ much of their time in
fishing. They do not use either net or hook, but employ the more
sportsmanlike spear. This weapon is about ten feet in length, and
has a barbed iron head loosely stuck into the end of the shaft, both
being connected by a slack cord. As soon as the fish is struck, the
shaft is disengaged from the head, and being of light wood floats to
the surface, and so “plays” the fish until it is exhausted, and can
be drawn ashore by a hooked stick. The Shillooks often catch fish at
random, wading through the river against the stream, and striking their
spears right and left into the water.
Polygamy is of course practised among the people. Mr. Petherick gives a
very amusing description of an interview with a chief and his family.
“At one of these villages, Gosa, with a view to establishing a trade in
hides, or if possible in ivory, I made the acquaintance of its chief,
Dood, who, with several of the village elders, entered my boat, the
bank being crowded with every man, woman, and child of the village. The
chief, a man past middle age, struck me by his intelligent remarks, and
a bearing as straightforward as it was dignified and superior to that
of his companions. A few presents of beads were greedily clutched by
his attendants, he, however, receiving them as if they were his due;
and, passing an order to one of his men, the trifle I had given him was
returned by a counter-present of a sheep. On his leaving I requested he
would call before sunrise, attended by his sons only, when I would make
him and them suitable presents.
“Long before the appointed time Dood and a crowd of men and striplings,
with their inseparable accompaniments of clubs and lances, on the
shore, woke me from my slumbers; and, as I appeared on deck, a rush
took place toward me, with cries of ‘The Benj! the Benj!’ (the chief),
followed by salutations innumerable. As soon as these shouts subsided,
Dood, disembarrassing his mouth with some difficulty of a quid of
tobacco the size of a small orange, sat down by my side.
“My first remark was astonishment at the number of his followers,
having expected none but his sons. ‘Oh, ’tis all right: you don’t
know my family yet; but, owing to your kind promises, I sent to the
cattle-kraals for the boys;’ and with the pride of a father he said,
‘These are my fighting sons, who many a time have stuck to me against
the Dinka, whose cattle have enabled them to wed.’
“Notwithstanding a slight knowledge of negro families, I was still not
a little surprised to find his valiant progeny amount to forty grown-up
men and hearty lads. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I did not like to bring the girls
and little boys, as it would look as if I wished to impose upon your
generosity.’
“‘What! more little boys and girls! What may be their number, and how
many wives have you?’
“‘Well, I have divorced a good many wives; they get old, you know; and
now I have only ten and five.’ But when he began to count his children,
he was obliged to have recourse to a reed, and, breaking it up into
small pieces, said, ‘I take no notice of babies, as they often die, you
know; women are so foolish about children that I never care for them
until they are able to lay a snare.’
“Like all negroes, not being able to count beyond ten, he called over
as many names, which he marked by placing a piece of reed on the deck
before him; a similar mark denoted another ten, and so on until he
had named and marked the number of his children. The sum total, with
the exception, as he had explained, of babies and children unable
to protect themselves, was fifty-three boys and twenty girls--viz.
seventy-three!
“After the above explanation I could no longer withhold presents to the
host on the shore; and, pleased with my donations, he invited me to
his house, where I partook of merissa and broiled fowl, in which, as
a substitute for fat, the entrails had been left. Expressing a desire
to see his wives, he willingly conducted me from hut to hut, where my
skin, hair, and clothes underwent a most scrutinizing examination.
Each wife was located in a separate batch of huts; and, after having
distributed my pocketfuls of loose beads to the lady chieftains and
their young families, in whose good graces I had installed myself, I
took leave of the still sturdy village chief.”
The code of government among the Shillooks is simple enough. There
is a sultan or superior officer, who is called the “Meck,” and who
possesses and exercises powers that are almost irresponsible. The Meck
seems to appreciate the proverb that “familiarity breeds contempt,”
and keeps himself aloof from his own subjects, seldom venturing beyond
the limits of his own homestead. He will not even address his subjects
directly, but forces them to communicate with him through the medium of
an official. Any one who approaches him must do so on his knees, and no
one may either stand erect or carry arms in his presence. He executes
justice firmly and severely, and especially punishes murder and theft
among his subjects, the culprit being sentenced to death, and his
family sold as slaves.
Theft and murder, however, when committed against other tribes, are
considered meritorious, and, when a marauding party returns, the Meck
takes one-third of the plunder. He also has a right to the tusks of
all elephants killed by them, and he also expects a present from every
trader who passes through his territory. The Meck will not allow
strangers to settle within the Shillook territories, but permits them
to reside at Kaka, a large town on their extreme north. Here many
trading Arabs live while they are making their fortune in exchanging
beads, cattle bells, and other articles for cattle, slaves, and ivory.
The trade in the latter article is entirely carried on by the Meck,
who has the monopoly of it, and makes the most of his privilege. The
traffic at Kaka is by no means a free trade, for the Meck not only
takes all the ivory, but his officials watch the proceedings in the
market, and exercise a supervision over every bargain.
Probably on account of the presence of strangers, the Meck does not
live at Kaka, but takes up his residence out in a village some ten
miles up the river.
I have in my collection a curious musical instrument, which we may call
a flute, in lieu of a better word. It is made of some hard wood, and is
rudely covered with a spiral belt of iron and leather. An iron ring is
also fastened through it, through which passes the leathern strap by
which it is carried. The top hole is very small, and the sound produced
by the instrument is of a wailing and lugubrious character. Inside the
flute is fitted an odd implement which we may call the cleaner. It is
composed of an ostrich feather with the vanes cut short, and in order
to render it long enough to reach to the bottom of the flute, it is
lengthened by a wooden handle, to the end of which is attached a tuft
of hairs from a cow’s tail, by way of ornament. In length the flute
measures rather more than eighteen inches, and, in consequence of the
amount of iron upon it, the weight is more than might be supposed.
CHAPTER XLV.
THE ISHOGO, ASHANGO, AND OBONGO TRIBES.
WESTERN AFRICA -- THE ISHOGO TRIBE AND ITS LOCALITY -- DRESS AND
ASPECT OF THE PEOPLE -- THE SINGULAR HEADDRESS OF THE WOMEN -- THEIR
SKILL IN WEAVING -- THE OUANDJAS, OR NATIVE FACTORIES -- THE LOOM
AND SHUTTLE -- ARCHITECTURE OF THE ISHOGOS -- CURIOUS DOORS -- THE
VILLAGE TREE -- THE M’PAZA OR TWIN CEREMONY -- GENERAL CHARACTER
OF THE ISHOGOS -- THE ASHANGO TRIBE -- CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE
-- AN UNLUCKY SHOT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES -- WAR CEREMONIES -- THE
TEMPLE, OR M’BUITI HOUSE, AND THE RELIGIOUS RITES PERFORMED IN IT --
SUPERSTITIONS OF THE ASHANGOS -- THE KENDO, OR BELL OF ROYALTY --
RECEPTION OF A VISITOR -- THE OBONGO TRIBE, OR BUSHMEN OF WEST AFRICA
-- THEIR SHORT AND STUNTED LOOK -- KINDNESS OF THE ASHANGOS TOWARD
THEM -- THE OBONGO MARKET -- DOMESTIC CUSTOMS AND FUNERAL CEREMONIES.
We are now coming among some of the negro tribes, and shall see them as
they are in their normal state before their customs and mode of life
have been altered by the influence of Europeans.
A little below the equator, and between 10° and 12° E. longitude, is a
district inhabited by the Ishogo, a very large and remarkable tribe.
The Ishogo live along a rather narrow tract of country that extends
diagonally southwestward, parallel with the Rembo N’gouyai River, but
divided from it by a range of hills.
The Ishogo are a fine race of men, black, with woolly hair, but not
exhibiting the extreme negro development which characterizes the
aborigines of the west coast. They decorate themselves in rather a
singular manner. Both sexes add a ruddy tinge to their native black by
rubbing themselves with a red powder obtained by scraping two pieces of
bar-wood together, and they also disfigure themselves by removing the
two middle teeth of the upper jaw.
Like other woolly-haired races, the Ishogo are very proud of their
heads, and diminish the already scanty supply of hair with which Nature
has supplied them. Eyelashes and eyebrows are unfashionable among them,
and are carefully erased, while the hair of the head is dressed in the
most extraordinary style. The men shave a circle round their heads,
only allowing a round patch to remain on the crown. This is separated
into three divisions, each of which is plaited into a lappet-like form,
coming to a point at the end, and being finished off with a large bead,
or perhaps a piece of polished wire. On account of the slow growth of
the hair, an Ishogo cannot complete his headdress under several years.
The women begin by making a sort of frame of grass cloth, and fixing it
to the head, at the top or at the back, as their taste may direct. They
then work the woolly hair into it, and, when that part of the process
is completed, shave away all the hair that is not required for the
purpose. When the headdress is complete, it stands some eight or ten
inches from the head, and consequently a term of years elapses before
this odd ornament reaches perfection. In fact, a complete headdress is
never seen on any one under five-and-twenty.
The “chignon,” if we may apply such a term to the headdress, has
four partings, one in front, one behind, and one at each side. Of
course this elaborate ornament cannot be dressed by the owners, and,
as a general rule, it is intrusted to professional hands, several
women in every town making hair-dressing a regular business. After
being arranged, the head is not touched for several months, when the
structure is taken to pieces, and elaborately rebuilt, the fresh
growth of hair being woven into it. The operation of taking down and
rebuilding one of these towers is a very long and tedious one, and
occupies a full day.
Four modes of arranging the tower, if it may be called so, prevail
among the Ishogo. The ordinary plan is to raise it perpendicularly from
the top of the head, so that at a distance it looks exactly as if the
woman were carrying a cylindrical basket on her head. Sometimes, when
the base of the tower is placed half way between the top of the head
and the neck, the direction is diagonal, and, when the hair at the back
of the head is retained, the tower projects backward and horizontally.
These are the usual fashions; but some of the women wear, in addition
to the tower, a tuft of hair, which is allowed to remain at each side
of the head, and is trained into a ball just above the ear.
The dress of the Ishogo is “grass cloth” of their own manufacture. They
are celebrated for the soft and close texture of this cloth, which
is, however, not made from grass, but from the cuticle of young palm
leaves, stripped off dexterously by the fingers. M. du Chaillu gives
the following account of the weavers:--
“In walking down the main street of Mokenga a number of ouandjas, or
houses without walls, are seen, each containing four or five looms,
with the weavers seated before them, weaving the cloth. In the middle
of the ouandja a wood fire is seen burning, and the weavers, as you
pass by, are sure to be seen smoking their pipes, and chatting to one
another whilst going on with their work. The weavers are all men, and
it is men also who stitch the ‘bongos’ together to make ‘denguis’
or robes of them. The stitches are not very close together, nor is
the thread very fine, but the work is very neat and regular, and
the needles are of their own manufacture. The bongos are very often
striped, and sometimes made even in check patterns. This is done by
their dyeing some of the threads of the warp, or of the warp and woof,
with various simple colors. The dyes are all made of decoctions of
different kinds of wood, except for black, when a kind of iron ore is
used. The bongos are employed as money in this part of Africa.”
Two of the words in this passage need explanation. The loom of the
Ishogo is made as follows:--A bar of wood, about two feet in length, is
suspended horizontally from the roof of the weaving hut, and over this
bar are passed the threads which constitute the warp, their other ends
being fastened to a corresponding bar below, which is fixed tightly
down by a couple of forked sticks thrust into the ground. The alternate
threads of the warp are divided by two slight rods, the ends of which
are held in the fingers of the left hand, which cross them alternately,
while the woof is interlaced by means of a sword-shaped shuttle, which
also serves to strike it down and lay it regularly.
In consequence of this form of loom it is only possible to weave
pieces of cloth of a limited length, and, as these cloths are used as
currency, they are all made of the same length. Each of these pieces is
called a “bongo,” and when two are sewed together they become “denguis.”
The women are only allowed to wear two of these pieces of cloth, the
size of the wearer not being taken into consideration. One is hung at
each side, and the edges are joined before and behind, so that a large
and fat woman presents a very absurd appearance, the pieces of cloth
being too short to meet properly.
The Ishogos seldom go armed, and although they have spears, and bows
and arrows, they do not carry them except when actually required. It
is thought etiquette, however, for them to take their swords with them
when they go to visit another village. They are a quiet and peaceful
people, and although they have at hand the means of intoxicating
themselves, they are remarkable for their sobriety, in which virtue
they present a pleasing contrast to their noisy, quarrelsome, and
intemperate neighbors, the Apono tribe.
The villages of the Ishogo tribe are often very large, containing two
hundred or more huts. Each hut is, on an average, twenty-two feet in
length, and ten or twelve feet in width, and is divided by partitions
into three compartments. The mud Avails are not quite five feet in
height, and the top of the roof is about nine feet from the ground.
The doors are placed in the middle of the central compartment, and are
very small, only a little more than two feet and a half in height, and
are not hung on hinges, but turn in the middle on a couple of pivots,
one at the top and the other at the bottom. Perhaps one reason for
this diminutive size is, that the natives have no saws, and their only
method of making a door is by felling the trunk of a tree, cutting it
into the proper length, and laboriously chipping away the wood at each
side. The doors are decorated with various devices, complicated and
even elegant patterns being painted on them in red, black, and white,
&c. Most of the houses have the outer surface of the walls covered with
the bark of trees.
The furniture of these huts is scarcely equal to the excellence of
the architecture. Hanging from the roof are a quantity of calabashes,
which contain water, palm wine, and oil, and are accompanied by plenty
of cotton bags and cooking vessels. A well-furnished hut has also a
number of plates and dishes, made either from reeds or from the rind of
a plant called “astang,” divided into strips, and against the avails
are stored the bundles of palm fibres from which the bongos are woven.
Tobacco is also stored within the hut, and is completely enveloped in
leaves.
[Illustration: (1.) THE CEREMONY OF M’PAZA. (See page 479.)]
[Illustration: (2.) OBONGO MARKET. (See page 482.)]
The usual form of a village is a single street, of great length, and
sometimes exceedingly wide. The street of one village was fully a
hundred yards in width, and was kept so neatly that not a single weed
was to be seen in it,--a really remarkable fact when we remember the
exceeding rapidity with which vegetation grows in this country. Each
village has at least one “palaver-house,” while many have several. The
“palaver-house” is more of a shed than a house, and consists chiefly
of a roof and the posts which support it. In this house the men meet
daily, to smoke, to hold trials, to receive strangers, and to indulge
in that interminable gossip of which a relic still exists in the
“discoursing” of Ireland.
There is also a temple, or M’buiti house, in which a kind of religious
service is held, and which always contains a large wooden idol, which
the people hold in great reverence. The proceedings within this edifice
will be presently described.
In the middle of every Ishogo and Ashango village there is a single
large tree, belonging to the genus Ficus. When the site of a village
is first laid out, a sapling of this tree is planted, the prosperity
of the future village being connected with it. If it should live and
flourish, the new village will be prosperous; but, if it should die,
the place is abandoned and a new site chosen. Some of the villages are
distinguished by having two heads of the gorilla, one male and the
other female, stuck on poles under the sacred tree, and M. du Chaillu
learned afterward that certain charms were buried at the root of the
same tree.
Among the Ishogos there is a very remarkable custom connected with the
birth of twins. In many parts of the world twins are destroyed as soon
as born, but in this country they are permitted to live, though under
restrictions which tell much more severely on the mother than on her
offspring. The Ishogo have a vague kind of a notion that no woman ought
to produce more than a single infant at a time, and that nature desires
to correct the mistake by killing one of the children before it is able
to take care of itself. After that time--_i. e._ when the children are
about six years old--the balance of the births and deaths is supposed
to be equalized, and no further precautions need be taken.
Therefore, as soon as twins are born, the house is marked off in
some way so as to distinguish it. In one instance, mentioned by M.
du Chaillu, two long poles were planted at each side of the door, a
piece of cloth was hung over the entrance, and a row of white pegs
driven into the ground just in front of the threshold. These marks are
intended to warn strangers from entering the hut, as, if any one except
the children and their parents do so, the delinquent is seized and sold
into slavery. The twins themselves are not allowed to play with the
other children, and even the very utensils and cooking pots of the hut
cannot be used.
In consequence of this curious law, there is nothing, next to being
childless, which the women dread so much as having twins born to them,
and nothing annoys an Ishogo woman so much as telling her that she
is sure to have twins. Perhaps the most irritating restriction is
that which forbids the woman to talk. She is allowed to go into the
forest for firewood, and to perform such necessary household tasks,
as otherwise she and her children must starve. But she is strictly
forbidden to speak a word to any one who does not belong to her own
family--a prohibition annoying enough to any one, but doubly so in
Africa, where perpetual talk is almost one of the necessaries of life.
At the expiration of the sixth year, a ceremony takes place by which
all parties are released from their long confinement, and allowed to
enter the society of their fellows. At daybreak proclamation is made
in the street, and two women, namely, the mother and a friend, take
their stand at the door of the hut, having previously whitened their
legs and faces. They next march slowly down the village, beating a
drum in time to the step, and singing an appropriate song. A general
dance and feast then takes place, and lasts throughout the night, and,
after the ceremony is over, all restrictions are removed. This rite is
called “M’paza,” a word which both signifies twins and the ceremony by
which they and their mother are set free from their imprisonment. It is
illustrated on the 478th page.
As in other parts of Africa, the natives have a way of keeping up their
dancing and drumming and singing all night, partly on account of the
coolness, and partly because they are horribly superstitious, and have
an idea that evil spirits might hurt them under cover of the night, if
they were not frightened away by the fires and noise.
One of these dances is called M’muirri, on account of the loud
reverberating sound produced by their lips. It is properly a war-dance,
and is performed by men alone. They form in line, and advance and
retreat simultaneously, stamping so as to mark the time, beating their
breasts, yelling, and making the reverberating sound which has been
already mentioned. Their throats being apparently of brass and their
lungs of leather, the Ishogo villagers keep up this horrid uproar
throughout the night, without a moment’s cessation, and those who are
for the moment tired of singing, and do not own a drum, contribute
their share to the general noise by clapping two pieces of wood
together.
With all their faults, the Ishogos are a pleasant set of people, and
M. du Chaillu, who lived with them, and was accompanied by Ishogos in
his expedition, says that they are the gentlest and kindest-hearted
negroes that he ever met. After his retreat from Ashango-land, which
will next be mentioned, the Ishogos received him with even more than
usual hospitality, arranged his journey westward, and the whole
population of the villages turned out of their houses and accompanied
him a little distance on his way.
ASHANGO.
Eastward of the Ishogos is a people called the Ashango. They speak a
different dialect from the Ishogo, and call themselves a different
race, but their manners and customs are so similar to those of the
Ishogos that a very brief account of them is all that is needed.
Ashango-land was the limit of M. du Chaillu’s second expedition, which
was suddenly brought to a close by a sad accident. The people had been
rather suspicious of his motives, and harassed him in his camp, so that
a few shots were fired in the air by way of warning. Unfortunately,
one of the guns was discharged before it was raised, and the bullet
struck an unfortunate man in the head, killing him instantly. The whole
village flew to arms, the war-drum sounded, and the warriors crowded to
the spot, with their barbed spears, and bows and poisoned arrows.
For a moment there was a lull: the interpreter, whose hand fired the
unlucky shot, explained that it was an accident, and that the price
of twenty men should be paid as compensation. Beads and cloth were
produced, and one of the headmen had just assented to the proposal,
when a loud wailing was heard, and a woman rushed out of a hut,
announcing that the favorite wife of the friendly headman had been
killed by the same fatal bullet, which, after scattering the brains of
the man, had passed through the thin walls of the hut, and killed the
poor woman within.
After this announcement all hopes of peace were at an end; the husband
naturally cried for vengeance; and, amid a shower of arrows, one
of which struck the interpreter, and another nearly severed M. du
Chaillu’s finger, the party retreated as they best could, refraining
from firing as long as they could, but at last being forced to fire in
self-defence. In order to escape as fast as they could, the porters
were obliged to throw away the instruments, specimens of natural
history, and photographs, so that the labor of months was lost, and
scarcely anything except the journal was saved. Each village to which
they came sent out its warriors against them. M. du Chaillu was
dangerously wounded in the side, and had at last to throw away his best
but heaviest rifle. It was only after the death of several of their
number that the Ashangos perceived that they had to contend with a foe
who was more than a match for them, and at last gave up the pursuit.
It was necessary, however, to conceal the fact of being wounded,
for several of the tribes had an idea that their white visitor was
invulnerable to spears and arrows, and it was a matter of great
consequence that such a notion should be encouraged. All kinds of
wild rumors circulated about him: some saying that the Ashango
arrows glanced off his body without hurting him, just as the Scotch
believed that the bullets were seen hopping like hail off the body of
Claverhouse; while others improved on the tale, and avowed that he had
changed himself into a leopard, a gorilla, or an elephant, as the case
might be, and under this strange form had attacked the enemies and
driven them away.
The Ashangos are even better clothed than the Ishogos, wearing denguis
of considerable size, and even clothing their children, a most unusual
circumstance in Central Africa. The women wear hair-towers like those
of the Ishogos, but do not seem to expend so much trouble upon them.
They seem to lead tolerably happy lives, and indeed to have their own
way in most things.
The Ashango warriors are well armed, carrying swords, spears, and
poisoned arrows. The spear and arrow-heads and swords are not made by
themselves, but by the Shimba and Ashangui tribes, who seem to be the
acknowledged smiths in this part of the country. The sword is carried
by almost every Ashango, and when one of these weapons is bought or
sold, the transaction is always carried on in private.
Before the Ashangos go out to war, they have a sort of magical
ceremony, called “Cooking the War-dish.” The witch-doctor is summoned,
and sets to work preparing a kind of porridge of all sorts of herbs
and fetishes in an enormous pot. None but the warriors are allowed to
see the preparation, and, when the mess is cooked, each warrior eats
a portion. None of it is allowed to be left, and after they have all
eaten, the remainder is rubbed over their bodies, until they have
excited themselves to the necessary pitch of enthusiasm, when they rush
out and at once proceed to the attack.
There are a number of minor ceremonies connected with food; one of
which is, that the women are not allowed to eat goat flesh or fowls,
the probable reason being, according to M. du Chaillu, that the men
want to eat these articles themselves.
In Ashango-land, as well as among the Ishogos, the temple, or idol hut,
is one of the most conspicuous buildings. Generally, the people did not
like strangers to enter their temples, but in one village he succeeded
in entering a temple, or M’buiti house, and seeing the strange worship
which was conducted.
“This idol was kept at the end of a long, narrow, and low hut, forty or
fifty feet long, and ten feet broad, and was painted in red, white, and
black colors. When I entered the hut, it was full of Ashango people,
ranged in order on each side, with lighted torches stuck in the ground
before them. Among them were conspicuous two M’buiti men, or, as they
might be called, priests, dressed in cloth of vegetable fibre, with
their skins painted grotesquely in various colors, one side of the
face red, the other white, and in the middle of the breast a broad,
yellow stripe; the circuit of the eyes was also daubed with paint.
These colors are made by boiling various kinds of wood and mixing the
decoction with clay.
“The rest of the Ashangos were also streaked and daubed with various
colors, and by the light of their torches they looked like a troop of
devils assembled in the lower regions to celebrate some diabolical
rite; around their legs were bound white leaves from the heart of the
palm tree; some wore feathers, others had leaves twisted in the shape
of horns behind their ears, and all had a bundle of palm leaves in
their hands.
“Soon after I entered, the rites began: all the men squatted down on
their haunches, and set up a deafening kind of wild song. There was an
orchestra of instrumental performers near the idol, consisting of three
drummers with two drumsticks each, one harper, and a performer on the
sounding-stick, which latter did not touch the ground, but rested on
two other sticks, so that the noise was made the more resonant. The two
M’buiti men, in the mean time, were dancing in a fantastical manner
in the middle of the temple, putting their bodies into all sorts of
strange contortions. Every time the M’buiti men opened their mouths to
speak, a dead silence ensued.
“As the ceremony continued, the crowd rose and surrounded the dancing
men, redoubling at the same time the volume of their songs, and, after
this went on for some time, returning to their former positions. This
was repeated several times. It seemed to me to be a kind of village
feast.
“The M’buiti men, I ought to mention, had been sent for from a distance
to officiate on the occasion, and the whole affair was similar to a
rude sort of theatrical representation. The M’buiti men, like the
witchcraft doctors, are important persons among these inland tribes;
some have more reputation than others, but in general those who live
furthest off are much esteemed. At length, wearied out with the noise,
and being unable to see any meaning or any change in the performances,
I returned to my hut at half past ten.”
Being exceedingly superstitious, the Ashangos generally thought that
their white visitor was not a man, but a spirit, as he could perform
such wonders. He had a musical box, and set it playing, to the great
consternation of the people. Their awe was increased by his leaving the
box where it stood, and going away into the forest. The fact that the
instrument should continue to play with no one near it was still more
terrible, and a crowd of people stood round in dead silence--a very
convincing proof of their awe-stricken state. An accordion produced
even a greater sensation, and none but the chief dared to utter a
sound. Even he was very much frightened, and continued beating his
“kendo,” or magic bell of office, and invoking help from the spirits of
his ancestors.
This chief was a very pious man in his own fashion. He had a little
temple or oratory of his own, and every morning and evening he repaired
to the oratory, shut himself up, beat his bell, and invoked the
spirits, and at night he always lighted a fire before beating the bell.
The “kendo” is a very remarkable badge of office. It is bell-shaped,
but has a long iron handle bent in a hook-like shape, so that the
“kendo” can be carried on the shoulder. Leopard’s fur is fastened to
it, much to the deadening of the sound, and the whole instrument forms
an emblem which is respected as much as the sceptre among ourselves. As
the chief walks along, he rings the bell, which announces his presence
by a sound like that of a common sheep or cow bell.
When M. du Chaillu was among the Ashango, scarcely any articles of
civilized manufacture had penetrated into the country. The universal
bead had reached them, and so had a few ornaments of brass. There was
an article, however, which was sometimes found among them, and which
was about the last that could be expected. It was the common black
beer-bottle of England. These bottles have penetrated almost as far
as the beads, and are exceedingly prized by the chiefs, who value no
article of property more than a black bottle, which they sling to their
belts, and in which they keep their plantain wine. Calabashes would, of
course, answer their purpose better, being less fragile, but the black
bottle is a chief’s great ambition. Mostly, the wives do as they like;
but, if a wife should happen to break a bottle, she has committed an
offence for which no pardon is expected.
The Ashangos have an odd custom of receiving a visitor. When they
desire to do him particular honor, they meet him with some dishes of
their red paint, with which he is expected to besmear himself. If a
stranger approach a house, and the owner asks him to make himself red,
he is quite happy, and, if the pigment should not be offered, he will
go off in dudgeon at the slight.
OBONGOS, OR BUSHMEN OF ASHANGO-LAND.
Somewhere near the equatorial line, and between long. 11° and 12° E.,
there is a tribe of dwarfed negroes, called the Obongos, who seem to be
among the very lowest of the human race, not only in stature, but in
civilization.
The Obongos have no settled place of residence, their houses being
simply huts made of branches, and constructed so slightly that no home
interests can possibly attach to them. They are merely made of leafy
boughs stuck in the ground, and are so slight that a whole village
of Obongos will change its residence with scarcely a warning. The
principal cause of abandonment seems to be summed up in the single word
“vermin,” with which the huts swarm to such an extent that, long after
they have been abandoned, no one can enter without being covered with
swarms of these offensive little insects. The huts are merely made of
green boughs, and the hole which serves as a door is closed with a
smaller bough. They are scattered about without any order in the open
space left among the trees.
The resemblance between the Obongos and the Bosjesmans of Southern
Africa is really wonderful. Like them, the Obongos are short, though
not ill-shaped, much lighter in hue than their neighbors, and have
short hair growing in tufts, while the Ashangos are tall, dark, and
have rather long bushy hair.
Their color is pale yellow-brown, their foreheads narrow, and their
cheek-bones high. The average height is about four feet seven inches,
according to M. du Chaillu’s measurements, though he found one woman
who was considered very tall, and who was five feet and a quarter of
an inch high. The men are remarkable for having their breasts and legs
covered with hair, which grows in tufts like that of the head.
This diminutive stature is not entirely owing to the small size of the
whole figure, but to the shortness of the legs, which, unlike those of
African races in general, are very short in proportion to the size of
the body. Thus, instead of looking like ordinary but well-shaped men
seen through a diminishing glass, as is the case with the Bosjesman of
Southern Africa, they have a dwarfish and stunted appearance, which,
added to the hairy limbs of the men, gives them a weird and elfish
appearance.
The dress of the Obongos--when they have any dress at all, which is
seldom the case--consists entirely of old and worn out denguis, which
are given to them by the Ashangos. Indeed, the Ashangos behave very
kindly to these wretched little beings, and encourage them to take up
their residence near villages, so that a kind of traffic can be carried
on. Degraded as these little beings seem to be, they are skilful
trappers, and take great quantities of game, the supplies of which
they sell to the Ashangos for plantains, iron cooking pots, and other
implements. (See illustration No. 2, on p. 478.) On one occasion M. du
Chaillu saw a dozen Ashango women going to the huts of the Obongos,
carrying on their heads plantains which they were about to exchange for
game. The men had not returned from hunting, but, on seeing that the
Obongo women were suffering from hunger, and forced to live on some
very unwholesome-looking nuts, they left nearly all the plantains, and
came away without the game.
The woods in which they live are so filled with their traps that a
stranger dares not walk in them, lest he should tumble into a pitfall
which was constructed to catch the leopard, wild boar, or antelope, or
have his legs caught in a trap which was laid for monkeys. There is not
a path through the trees which does not contain a pitfall or two, and
outside the path the monkey traps are so numerous that even by daylight
it is difficult to avoid them. Being a wandering race, the Obongos
never cultivate the ground, but depend for their food on the game which
they take, and on the roots, berries, and nuts which they find in the
woods. Animal food is coveted by them with astonishing eagerness, and
a promise of goat’s flesh will bribe an Obongo when even beads fail to
touch him.
The origin of the Obongos is a mystery, and no one knows whether they
are the aboriginal inhabitants of the soil, or whether they came from a
distance. The probability is, that they were the original inhabitants,
and that the Ashangos, being a larger and more powerful race, have
gradually possessed themselves of that fertile land, whose capabilities
were wasted by the nomad and non-laboring Obongos.
It is strange that they should have retained their individuality
throughout so long a period, in which phenomenon they present a curious
resemblance to the gipsies of Europe, who have for centuries been among
us, though not of us. The Obongos never marry out of their own tribe,
and as they live in little communities of ten or twelve huts, it is
evident that they can have but little matrimonial choice. Indeed,
the Ashangos say that the ties of kinship are totally neglected, and
that the Obongos permit marriages to take place between brothers and
sisters. This circumstance may perhaps account for their dwarfed
stature.
They are a timid people, and when M. du Chaillu visited them he could
hardly catch a sight of them, as they all dashed into the wood as soon
as they saw the stranger. It was with the greatest difficulty that
he succeeded in intercepting several women and some children, and by
presents of beads and promises of meat conciliating some of them, and
inducing them to inspire confidence in their comrades. One little
old woman named Misounda, who was at first very shy, became quite
confident, and began to laugh at the men for running away. She said
that they were as timid as the squirrel, which cried “Qué, Qué,” and
squeaked in imitation of the animal, at the same time twisting her odd
little body into all sorts of droll contortions, intended to represent
the terror of her frightened companions.
When an Obongo dies, it is usual to take the body to a hollow tree in
the forest, and drop it into the hollow, which is afterward filled to
the top with earth, leaves, and branches. Sometimes, however, they
employ a more careful mode of burial. They take the body to some
running stream, the course of which has been previously diverted. A
deep grave is dug in the bed of the stream, the body placed in it, and
covered over carefully. Lastly, the stream is restored to its original
course, so that all traces of the grave are soon lost. This remarkable
custom is not peculiar to the Obongos, but has existed in various parts
of the world from the earliest known time.
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE APONO AND APINGI TRIBES.
LOCALITY OF THE APONO TRIBE -- THEIR LIVELY CHARACTER -- DRESS AND
ORNAMENT -- THE GIANT DANCE -- WEAPONS -- APONO ARCHITECTURE --
RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION -- SICKNESS, DEATH, AND BURIAL -- AN APONO
LEGEND -- THE APINGI TRIBE -- THEIR GENERAL APPEARANCE AND MODE OF
DRESS -- SKILL IN WEAVING -- DEXTERITY AS BOATMEN -- A SCENE ON THE
REMBO -- CURIOUS MATRIMONIAL ARRANGEMENT -- SLAVERY AMONG THE APINGI
-- A HUNTER’S LEOPARD-CHARM -- FUNERAL CUSTOMS.
Proceeding toward the western coast of Africa, we now come to the Apono
tribe, which inhabit a district just below the Equator, and between
long. 11° and 12° E.
They are a merry race, and carry to excess the African custom of
drumming, dancing, and singing throughout the entire night. Drinking,
of course, forms a chief part of the amusements of the night, the
liquid used being the palm wine, which is made in great quantities in
many parts of tropical Africa. Perhaps the innate good nature of the
Apono people was never shown to greater advantage than on one occasion
when M. du Chaillu determined to stop the revelry that cost him his
repose at night, and the services of his intoxicated porters by day. He
did so by the very summary process of going to the hut where the feast
was held, kicking over the vessels of palm wine, and driving the chiefs
and their attendants out of the hut. They were certainly vexed at the
loss of so much good liquor, but contented themselves with a grumble,
and then obeyed orders.
The Aponos proved to be very honest men, according to the African
ideas of honesty; and, from M. du Chaillu’s account, did not steal his
property, and always took his part in the numberless squabbles with
different chiefs. They are not pleasing in appearance, not so much
from actual ugliness of feature, but from their custom of disfiguring
themselves artificially. In the first place, they knock out the two
middle teeth of the upper jaw, and file all the rest to sharp points.
Tattooing is carried on to a considerable extent, especially by the
women, who have a habit of raising little elevated scars in their
foreheads, sometimes arranged in the form of a diamond, and situated
between the eyes. Several marks are made on the cheeks, and a few on
the chest and abdomen.
The dress of the Aponos resembles that of the Ishogo tribe, and is
made of grass cloth. The men wear the denguis or mantles, composed of
several grass cloths sewed together, while the women are restricted to
two, one of which is attached on either side, and made to meet in the
back and front if they can. While the women are young, the dress is
amply sufficient, but when they become old and fat, the cloths, which
are always of uniform size, cannot be made to meet by several inches.
However, the dress in question is that which is sanctioned by ordinary
custom, and the Aponos are perfectly satisfied with it.
The palm wine which has just been mentioned is made by the Aponos in a
very simple manner. When the fruit is nearly ripe, the natives climb
the trees and hang hollowed gourds under the fruits for the purpose of
receiving the precious liquor. They are so fond of this drink, that
even in the early morning they may be seen climbing the trees and
drinking from the suspended calabashes. During the season the Apono
people are constantly intoxicated, and, in consequence, are apt to be
quarrelsome and lazy, willing to take offence at any slight, whether
real or imagined, and to neglect the duties which at other times of the
year they are always ready to perform.
[Illustration: (1.) THE GIANT DANCE. (See page 487.)]
[Illustration: (2.) FISHING SCENE. (See page 492.)]
Fortunately for themselves, the palm wine season lasts only a few
months, and during the remainder of the year the Aponos are perforce
obliged to be sober. While it lasts, the country is most unpleasant to
a stranger, the sound of the drum, the dance, and the song scarcely
ever ceasing night or day, while the people are so tetchy and
quarrelsome that a day never passes without a fight, which often leaves
considerable scars behind it.
One of their dances is very peculiar, and is called by the name of
Ocuya, or Giant Dance. The reader will find it illustrated on the
previous page.
This curious dance is performed by a man who enacts the part of the
giant, and raises himself to the necessary height by means of stilts.
He then endues a wicker-work frame, shaped like the body of a man,
and dressed like one of the natives, in large grass cloths. The dress
reaches to the ground, so as to conceal the stilts, and, in spite of
this drawback, the performer walks and dances as if he were using
his unaided feet. Of course he wears a mask, and this mask is mostly
of a white color. It has large, thick lips, and a mouth partly open,
showing the gap in which the upper incisor teeth had once existed. The
headdress is much like a lady’s bonnet of 1864 or 1865. The material of
which it is made is monkey skin, and it is ornamented with feathers.
The Aponos are not distinguished as warriors, their weapons being
very formidable in appearance, and very inefficient in practice. Each
Apono has his bow and arrows. The former is a stiff, cumbrous kind of
weapon. It is bent nearly in a semi-circle, the string being nearly two
feet from the centre of the bow. The string is of vegetable fibre. The
arrows are ingeniously armed with triangular iron heads, each being
attached to a hollow neck, through which the shaft passes loosely. The
head is poisoned, and when it penetrates the flesh it remains fixed in
the wound, while the shaft falls to the ground, just as is the case
with the Bosjesman arrows already described.
Their spears are also rather clumsy, and are too heavy to be thrown.
They are, however, rather formidable in close combat. The weapon
which is most coveted by the Apono tribe is a sort of sword, or
rather scimitar, with a wooden handle and a boldly curved blade. An
ambitious young Apono is never happy until he has obtained one of
these scimitars, and such a weapon, together with a handsome cap and
a well-made “dengui,” will give a man a most distinguished appearance
among his fellows. Although the curved form is most common, some of
these swords are straight, and are not made by themselves, but by
the Abombos and Iljavis, who live to the east of them. The blade of
this weapon is four feet in length, and the handle is shaped like a
dice-box, the “tang” of the blade running through it and being clenched
on the end of the hilt. From the same tribes they procure their anvils,
which are too large for their resources; their only melting pots being
scarcely able to hold more than a pint of iron ore. The shields of the
Apono are circular and made of basket work.
The villages of the Apono are well and neatly built. One of them,
belonging to Nchiengain, the principal chief of the Apono tribe, was
measured by M. du Chaillu, and found to consist of one long street,
nearly four hundred and fifty yards long, and eighteen yards wide.
The houses were all separated by an interval, and each house was
furnished with a little veranda in front, under which the inhabitants
sit and smoke their pipes, eat their meals, and enjoy a chat with their
neighbors. The material of the houses is chiefly bamboo, and strips of
the leaf-stalks of palm trees, and the average height of a hut is about
seven feet.
One of the villages, named Mokaba, deserved the name of a town, and was
arranged in a somewhat different manner. The houses were arranged in
three parallel rows, forming one wide principal street in the middle,
and a narrow street on either side. The houses are arranged in hollow
squares, each square belonging to one family. As often as a man marries
a fresh wife, he builds a separate house for her, and all these new
houses are arranged in the form of a quadrangle, the empty space being
planted with palm trees, which are the property of the headman of each
group, and which pass at his death to his heir. These palm trees are
valuable property, and are especially prized as furnishing material for
the palm wine which the Apono tribe drink to such an extent.
Superstition is as rife among the Aponos as among other tribes which
have been mentioned, and preserves its one invariable characteristic,
_i. e._ an ever-present fear of evil. When M. du Chaillu visited them,
they were horribly afraid of such a monster as a white man, and jumped
to the conclusion that any one who was unlike themselves must be both
evil and supernatural.
It was with some difficulty that the chief Nchiengain was induced to
allow the travellers to pass through his territories; and even after
permission had been granted, it was thought better to send a man who
was the personal friend of the chief, and who would serve to calm the
fears with which he regarded the approach of his visitors. There was
certainly some reason for his fear, for, by some unfortunate mischance,
the small-pox swept through the country during the time of M. du
Chaillu’s travels, and it was very natural that the people should think
that the white stranger was connected with the disease.
When, at last, the traveller entered the Apono village, there was a
general consternation, the men running away as fast as their legs
could carry them, and the women fleeing to their huts, clasping their
children in their arms, and shrieking with terror. The village was,
in fact, deserted, in spite of the example set by the chief, who,
although as much frightened as any of his subjects, bore in mind the
responsibilities of his office, and stood in front of his house to
receive his visitor. In order to neutralize as much as possible the
effects of the white man’s witchery, he had hung on his neck, body, and
limbs all the fetishes which he possessed, and had besides covered his
body with mysterious lines of alumbi chalk. Thus fortified, he stood
in front of his hut, accompanied by two men, who bravely determined to
take part with their chief in his perilous adventure.
At first Nchiengain was in too great a fright to look at his visitor,
but before very long he ventured to do so, and accept some presents.
Afterward, when he had got over the fear with which he regarded the
white man, he acted after the fashion of all African chiefs, _i. e._ he
found all sorts of excuses for not furnishing his guests with guides
and porters; the real object being to keep in his hands the wonderful
white man who had such inexhaustible treasures at command, and who
might make him the richest and most powerful chief in the country.
The idols of the Apono tribe are hideously ugly. When M. du Chaillu was
in Apono-land, he naturally wished to bring home a specimen of a native
idol, and after some trouble induced Nchiengain to present him with a
specimen. The chief obligingly sent his wife to the temple to fetch
an idol, which he generously presented to his guest. It was a wooden
image, so large that the woman could scarcely carry it, and was of such
a character that it could not possibly be exhibited in Europe.
These people seem to possess inventive faculties of no small extent,
if we may judge from a strange legend that was told by one of them.
According to this tale, in former times there was a great chief called
Redjiona, the father of a beautiful girl called Arondo. He was very
fond of this daughter, and would not allow any one to marry her,
unless he promised that, if his daughter died before her husband, he
should die with her and be buried in the same grave. In consequence
of this announcement, no one dared to ask for Arondo’s hand, and she
remained unmarried for several years.
At last a suitor showed himself, in the person of a man named Akenda
Mbani. This name signifies “he who never goes twice to the same place;”
and he had taken it in consequence of a law or command of his father,
that he must never go twice to the same place. He married Arondo, and,
being a mighty hunter, he brought home plenty of game; but if he had by
chance killed two large animals, such as antelopes or boars, together,
he brought home one, and made his father-in-law fetch the other, on the
plea that he could not go twice to the same place.
After some years Arondo was taken ill with a headache, which became
worse and worse until she died, and, according to agreement, Akenda
Mbani died with her. As soon as she was dead, her father gave orders
to prepare a large grave for the husband and wife. In the grave was
placed the bed of the married pair, on which their bodies were laid,
and they were accompanied by a slave killed to wait on them in the land
of spirits, and by much wealth in the shape of ivory, plates, mats, and
ornaments. Akenda Mbani was also furnished with his sword, spear, and
hunting bag. The grave was then filled up, and a mound of sand heaped
upon it.
When Agambouai, the village orator, saw these arrangements, he
disapproved of them, and told Redjiona that the hyænas would scratch
up the mound of sand, and devour the bodies of his daughter and her
husband. So Redjiona ordered the grave to be made so deep that the
hyænas could not get at the bodies. Accordingly, the sand was removed,
and the bodies of Akenda Mbani and his wife were seated on stools while
the grave was deepened. When it was deep enough, the people replaced
the bed, and lowered the slave and Arondo into the grave. They then
proceeded to place Akenda Mbani by her, but he suddenly revived, and
declined to take his place in the grave a second time, on the ground
that he never went twice to the same place. Redjiona was very angry at
this, but admitted the validity of the excuse, and consoled himself by
cutting off the head of Agambouai.
THE APINGI.
Passing westward toward the coast, we come to the APINGI tribe. These
people inhabit a tolerably large tract of country, and extend along the
west side of a range of hills which separates them from the Ishogo.
The Apingi are not a handsome race. Their skin is black, with a decided
tinge of yellow, but this lightness of hue may probably be owing to
the mountainous regions which they inhabit. They wear the usual
grass cloth round the waist, and the women are restricted to two of
the squares, each twenty-four inches long by eighteen wide, as is the
custom throughout a large portion of West Africa. They do not, however,
look on clothing in the same light as we do, and so the scantiness of
their apparel is of no consequence to them.
This was oddly shown by the conduct of the head wife of Remandji, an
Apingi chief. She came with her husband to visit M. du Chaillu, who
presented her with a piece of light-colored cotton cloth. She was
delighted with the present, and, much to her host’s dismay, proceeded
to disrobe herself of her ordinary dress, in order to indue the new
garment. But, when she had laid aside the grass-cloth petticoat, some
object attracted her attention, and she began to inspect it, forgetting
all about her dress, chattering and looking about her for some time
before she bethought herself of her cotton robe, which she put on quite
leisurely.
This woman was rather good-looking, but, as a rule, the Apingi women
are exceedingly ugly, and do not improve their beauty by the custom of
filing the teeth, and covering themselves with tattooing. This practice
is common to both sexes, but the women are fond of one pattern, which
makes them look much as if they wore braces, a broad band of tattooed
lines passing over each shoulder, and meeting in a V-shape on the
breast. From the point of the V, other lines are drawn in a curved
form upon the abdomen, and a similar series is carried over the back.
The more of these lines a woman can show, the better dressed she is
supposed to be.
The grass cloths above-mentioned are all woven by the men, who can make
them either plain or colored. A square of the former kind is a day’s
work to an Apingi, and a colored cloth requires from two to three days’
labor. But the Apingi, like other savages, is a very slow workman, and
has no idea of the determined industry with which an European pursues
his daily labor. Time is nothing to him, and whether a grass cloth
takes one or two days’ labor is a matter of perfect indifference. He
will not dream of setting to work without his pipe, and always has
his friends about him, so that he may lighten the labors of the loom
by social converse. Generally, a number of looms are set up under the
projecting eaves of the houses, so that the weavers can talk as much as
they like with each other.
The Apingi are celebrated as weavers, and are said to produce the best
cloths in the country. These are held in such estimation that they are
sold even on the coast, and are much used as mosquito curtains. The men
generally wear a robe made of eight or nine squares. Barter, and not
personal use, is the chief object in making these cloths, the Apingi
thinking that their tattooing is quite enough clothing for all social
purposes. Indeed, they openly say that the tattooing is their mode of
dress, and that it is quite as reasonable as covering up the body and
limbs with a number of absurd garments, which can have no object but
to restrain the movements. Sometimes the Apingi wear a cloth over one
shoulder, but this is used as a sign of wealth, and not intended as
dress.
Like most tribes which live on the banks of rivers, the Apingi, who
inhabit the district watered by the Rembo River, are clever boatmen,
and excellent swimmers. The latter accomplishment is a necessity, as
the canoes are generally very small and frail, flat-bottomed, and are
easily capsized. They draw scarcely any water, this structure being
needful on account of the powerful stream of the Rembo, which runs so
swiftly that even these practised paddlers can scarcely make more than
three or four miles an hour against the stream.
When M. du Chaillu was passing up the Rembo, he met with an accident
that showed the strength of the current. An old woman was paddling
her boat across the stream, but the light bark was swept down by the
stream, and dashed against that of Du Chaillu, so that both upset.
As for the old woman, who had a bunch of plantains in her boat, she
thought of nothing but her fruit, and swam down the stream bawling
out lustily, “Where are my plantains? Give me my plantains!” She soon
captured her canoe, took it ashore, emptied out the water, and paddled
off again, never ceasing her lamentations about her lost bunch of
plantains.
There is a curious matrimonial law among the Apingi, which was
accidentally discovered by M. du Chaillu. A young man, who had just
married the handsomest woman in the country, showed all the marks of
poverty, even his grass cloth dress being ragged and worn out. On being
asked the reason of his shabby appearance, he pointed to his young
wife, and said that she had quite ruined him. On further interrogation,
it was shown that among the Apingi, if a man fell in love with the wife
of a neighbor, and she reciprocated the affection, the lover might
purchase her from the husband, who was bound to sell her for the same
price that he originally paid for her. In the present instance, so
large a sum had been paid for the acknowledged belle of the country
that the lover had been obliged to part with all his property before he
could secure her.
As is often the case in Africa, the slaves are treated very well
by their masters. Should a slave be treated harshly, he can at any
time escape by means of a curious and most humane law. He finds an
opportunity of slipping away, and goes to another village, where he
chooses for himself a new master. This is done by “beating bongo,” _i.
e._ by laying the hands on the head and saying, “Father, I wish to
serve you. I choose you for my master, and will never go back to my old
master.” Such an offer may not be refused, neither can the fugitive
slave be reclaimed, unless he should return to the village which he
left.
The Apingi are very fond of palm wine, and, like other neighboring
tribes, hang calabashes in the trees for the purpose of receiving the
juice. Being also rather selfish, they mostly visit their palm trees in
the early morning, empty the calabashes into a vessel, and then go off
into the woods and drink the wine alone, lest some acquaintance should
happen to see them, and ask for a share.
Hospitality is certainly one of the virtues of the Apingi tribe. When
M. du Chaillu visited them, the chief Remandji presented him with
food, the gift consisting of fowls, cassava, plantains, and _a young
slave_. The latter article was given in accordance with the ordinary
negro’s idea, that the white men are cannibals, and purchase black men
for the purpose of eating them. “Kill him for your evening meal,” said
the hospitable chief; “he is tender and fat, and you must be hungry.”
And so deeply was the idea of cannibalism implanted in his mind, that
nothing would make this really estimable gentleman comprehend that men
could possibly be wanted as laborers, and not as articles of food.
However, a very fair meal (_minus_ the slave) was prepared, and when it
was served up, Remandji appeared, and tasted every dish that was placed
before his guests. He even drank a little of the water as it was poured
out, this custom being followed throughout the tribe, the wives tasting
the food set before their husbands, and the men that which they offer
to their guests. It is singular to see how ancient and universal is the
office of “taster,” and how a custom which still survives in European
courts as a piece of state ceremonial is in active operation among the
savage tribes of Western Africa.
The religious, or rather the superstitious, system of the Apingi
differs little from that which we have seen in other districts, and
seems to consist chiefly in a belief in fetishes, and charms of
various kinds. For example, when M. du Chaillu told Remandji that he
would like to go on a leopard hunt, the chief sent for a sorcerer, or
“ouganga,” who knew a charm which enabled him to kill any number of
leopards without danger to himself. The wizard came, and went through
his ceremonies, remarking that the white man might laugh as much as he
please, but that on the next day he would see that his charm (monda)
would bring a leopard.
On the following morning he started into the woods, and in the
afternoon returned with a fine leopard which he had killed. He asked
such an exorbitant price for the skin that the purchase was declined,
and the skin was therefore put to its principal use, namely, making
fetish belts for warriors. A strip of skin is cut from the head to the
tail, and is then charmed by the ouganga, whose incantations are so
powerful that neither bullet, arrow, nor spear, can wound the man who
wears the belt. Of course such a belt commands a very high price, which
accounts for the unwillingness of the sorcerer to part with the skin.
As is usual in many parts of the world, when twins are born, one of
them is killed, as an idea prevails that, if both are allowed to live,
the mother will die. Only one case was known where twins, boys seven
years of age, were allowed to survive, and, as their mother did not
die, she was respected as a very remarkable woman.
Seeing the treasures which their white visitor brought among them, the
Apingi could not be disabused of the notion that he made, or rather
created, them all himself, and that he was able, by his bare word,
to make unlimited quantities of the same articles. One day a great
consultation was held, and about thirty chiefs, with Remandji at their
head, came and preferred the modest request that the white man would
make a pile of beads as high as the tallest tree, and another of guns,
powder, cloth, brass kettles, and copper rods. Nothing could persuade
them that such a feat was impossible, and the refusal to perform the
expected miracle was a severe disappointment to the Apingi chiefs, who
had come from great distances, each bringing with him a large band of
followers. There was even an Ashango chief, who had come from his own
country, more than a hundred miles to the eastward, bringing with him a
strong party of men to carry away his share of the goods.
This scene appears to have made a great impression on the natives, for
when Remandji and his son died, an event which happened not long after
Du Chaillu had left the country, the people firmly believed that the
latter had killed him on account of his friendship for him, desiring
that they should be companions in the spirit land, which they believed
was the ordinary habitation of white men.
Their burial customs are rather curious, and not at all agreeable.
The body is left in the house where the sick person has died, and is
allowed to remain there as long as it can hold together. At last, the
nearest relation of the deceased comes and carries off the body on his
shoulders, bearing it to some convenient spot at a little distance from
the village. No grave is dug, but the corpse is laid on the ground,
some pieces of ivory or a few personal ornaments are laid by it, and
the funeral ceremony is at an end.
CHAPTER XLVII.
THE BAKALAI.
DISTRICTS INHABITED BY THE BAKALAI -- THEIR ROVING AND UNSETTLED
HABITS -- SKILL IN HUNTING -- DIET AND MODE OF COOKING -- A FISH
BATTUE -- CLEANLY HABITS OF THE BAKALAI -- FORBIDDEN MEATS -- CRUEL
TREATMENT OF THE SICK, AND SUPERSTITIONS OF THE BAKALAI -- THEIR
IDOLS -- THE WOMEN AND THEIR RELIGIOUS RITES -- AN INTRUSION AND ITS
CONSEQUENCES -- THE “KEEN” OVER A DEAD PERSON.
The large and important tribe of the Bakalai inhabit a considerable
tract of country between the Equator and 2° S., and long. 10° to 13°
E. The land in which they dwell is not tenanted by themselves alone,
but they occupy so much space in it that it may fairly be called by
their name. They have a peculiar faculty for colonization, and have
extended their settlements in all directions, some being close to the
western coast, and others far to the east of the Ashangos. Of course,
their habits differ according to the kind of country in which they are
placed, but in all situations they are bold and enterprising, and never
fail to become masters of the district.
One clan or branch of this tribe, however, has abandoned these roving
habits, and has settled permanently at a place called Obindji, after
the chief of the clan. Being conveniently situated at the junction
of the Onenga and Ofouboa rivers, Obindji has a commanding position
for trade, and, having contracted an alliance with the great chief
Quengueza, carries on a prosperous commerce, ebony being their special
commodity. In concluding his alliance with them, Quengueza showed
his wisdom by insisting upon their maintaining peace with all their
neighbors, this indeed having been his policy throughout his life.
When Du Chaillu was passing along the Rembo River, Quengueza addressed
the porters who carried the goods, and gave them excellent advice,
which, if they would only have followed it, would have kept them clear
of many subsequent quarrels and misfortunes. He advised them never to
pick up bunches of plantain or nuts that might be lying on the road,
because those were only placed as a bait. Also, if told to catch and
kill goats or fowls, or to pluck fruit, they were to refuse, saying
that it was the duty of the host to supply the food, and not to set his
guests to fetch it for themselves. They were specially enjoined not to
enter other houses but those allotted to them, not to sit on strange
seats, and to keep clear of the women.
Obindji’s town showed clearly the character of the inhabitants. Bound
to keep the peace by the treaty with Quengueza, they were still
prepared against the incursions of inimical tribes. Usually, the houses
are made of bamboo, but those of Obindji had regular walls, made of
broad strips of bark lashed firmly to the bamboo uprights. When the
house is made of bamboo alone, the inhabitants can be seen nearly as
well as if they were birds in cages, and consequently the enemy can
shoot at them between the bars. In Obindji, however, the houses were
not only defended by the bark walls, but were further guarded by being
separated into two rooms, the inner chamber being that in which the
family sleep. So suspicious are they, that they never spread the couch
on the same spot for two successive nights.
Their great ambition seems to be the possession of the rivers, by
means of which they can traverse the country, make raids, or plant new
settlements in any promising spot. Thus all along the great river Rembo
are found districts inhabited by Bakalai, and each of the settlements
is sure to be the parent of other colonies on either bank. Moreover,
they are of strangely nomad habits, settling down for a time, and then
suddenly breaking up their village, taking away what portable stores
they can carry, abandoning the rest, and settling down like a flight
of locusts in some fresh spot. The causes for this curious habit are
several, but superstition is at the bottom of them all, as will be seen
when we come to that branch of the subject.
The complexion of the Bakalai is dark, but not black, and, as a rule,
they are of fair height and well made. They wear the usual grass
cloth as long as they cannot procure American or European goods, but,
whenever they can purchase a piece of cotton print, they will wear it
as long as it will hang together. Of washing it they seem to have no
conception, and to rags they have no objection. Neither do the Bakalai
wash themselves. Those who live on the banks of the river swim like
ducks, and, as their aquatic excursions often end in a capsize, they
are perforce washed in the stream. But washing in the light of ablution
is never performed by them, and those who live inland, and have no
river, never know the feeling of water on their oily bodies.
On account of their migratory habits, they have but little personal
property, concentrating all their wealth in the one article of wives.
A Bakalai will go to hunt, an art in which he is very expert, and will
sell the tusks, skins, and horns for European goods. As soon as he has
procured this wealth, he sets off to buy a new wife with it, and is not
very particular about her age, so that she be young. A girl is often
married when quite a child, and in that case she lives with her parents
until she has reached the marriageable age, which in that country is
attained at a very early period.
In consequence of this arrangement, children are eagerly expected, and
joyfully welcomed when they make their appearance. As a rule, African
women are not prolific mothers, so that a wife who has several children
is held in the highest estimation as the producer of valuable property,
and carries things with a high hand over her husband and his other
wives. The ideas of consanguinity are very curious among the Bakalai.
A man will not marry a wife who belongs to the same village or clan as
himself, and yet, if a man dies, his son takes his wives as a matter
of course, and, if he has no son old enough to do so, they pass to
his brother. Slaves also constitute part of a Bakalai’s property, and
are kept, not so much for the purpose of doing their master’s work,
which is little enough, but as live stock, to be sold to the regular
slave-dealers whenever a convenient opportunity may occur.
The principal food of the Bakalai is the cassava or manioc, which is
prepared so that it passes into the acid state of fermentation, and
becomes a sour, but otherwise flavorless mess. The chief advantage of
this mode of preparation is, that it will keep from six weeks or two
months, and at the end of that time is no nastier than it was when
comparatively fresh. They have also a singularly unpleasant article of
diet called njavi oil. It is made from the seeds of the njavi, one of
the large forest trees of the country, and is prepared by first boiling
the seed, then crushing it on a board, and lastly squeezing out the
oil in the hand. Much oil is wasted by this primitive process, and
that which is obtained is very distasteful to European palates, the
flavor resembling that of scorched lard. It is chiefly used in cooking
vegetables, and is also employed for the hair, being mixed with an
odoriferous powder, and plastered liberally on their woolly heads. It
is principally with this oil that the skin is anointed, a process which
is really needful for those who wear no clothing in such a climate.
Palm oil is sometimes employed for the same purpose, but it is too dear
to be in general use. Even the natives cannot endure a very long course
of this manioc, and, when they have been condemned to eat nothing but
vegetable food for several weeks, have a positive craving for meat, and
will do anything to procure it.
This craving after animal food sometimes becomes almost a disease.
It is known by the name of gouamba, and attacks both white and black
men alike. Quengueza himself was occasionally subject to it, and was
actually found weeping with the agony of gouamba, a proceeding which
seems absurd and puerile to those who have never been subjected to the
same affliction. Those who suffer from it become positive wild beasts
at the sight of meat, which they devour with an eagerness that is
horrible to witness. Even M. du Chaillu, with all his guns and other
means of destroying game, occasionally suffered from gouamba, which he
describes as “real and frightful torture.”
The Bakalai do not think of breeding their goats and chickens for food,
their wandering habits precluding them from either agriculture or
pastoral pursuits, and they are obliged, therefore, to look to fishing
and hunting for a supply of animal food. The former of these pursuits
is principally carried on during the dry season, when the waters of the
river have receded, and pools have been left on the plains. To those
pools the Bakalai proceed in numbers, men, women, and children taking
part in the work. Each is furnished with a pot or bowl, with which they
bail out the water until the fish are left struggling in the mud. The
whole party then rush in, secure the fish, and take them home, when a
large portion is consumed on the spot, but the greater quantity dried
in the smoke and laid up for future stores. (See illustration p. 486.)
Savages as they are, the Bakalai are very cleanly in their cooking,
as is mentioned by M. du Chaillu. “The Bakalai were cooking a meal
before setting out on their travels. It is astonishing to see the
neatness with which these savages prepare their food. I watched some
women engaged in boiling plantains, which form the bread of all this
region. One built a bright fire between two stones. The others peeled
the plantains, then carefully washed them--just as a clean white cook
would--and, cutting them in several pieces, put them in the earthen
pot. This was then filled with water, covered over with leaves, over
which were placed the banana peelings, and then the pot was put on
the stones to boil. Meat they had not, but roasted a few ground-nuts
instead; but the boiled plantains they ate with great quantities of
Cayenne pepper.” From this last circumstance, it is evident that the
Bakalai do not share in the superstitious notion about red pepper which
has been lately mentioned.
With all this cleanliness in cooking, they are so fond of animal food
that they will eat it when almost falling to pieces with decomposition.
And, in spite of their love for it, there is scarcely any kind of meat
which is not prohibited to one family or another, or at all events to
some single individual. For example, when one of the party has shot a
wild bull (_Bos brachiceros_), their principal chief or king refused to
touch the flesh, saying that it was “roonda,” or prohibited to himself
and his family, because, many generations back, a woman of his family
had given birth to a calf. Another family was prohibited from eating
the flesh of the crocodile, for similar reasons. So careful are the
Bakalai on this subject that even their love for meat fails before
their dread of the “roonda,” and a man will sooner die of starvation
than eat the prohibited food. Of course, this state of things is
singularly inconvenient. The kindred prohibitions of Judaism and
Mahometanism are trying enough, especially to travellers, who cannot
expect any great choice of food. But, as in the latter cases, the
prohibited articles are invariably the same, there is little difficulty
about the commissariat.
Among the Bakalai, however, if the traveller should happen to employ a
party of twenty men, he may find that each man has some “roonda” which
will not permit him to join his comrades at their repast. One man, for
example, may not eat monkey’s flesh, while another is prohibited to eat
pork, and a third is forbidden to touch the hippopotamus, or some other
animal. So strict is the law of “roonda,” that a man will often refuse
to eat anything that has been cooked in a kettle which may once have
held the forbidden food.
This brings us naturally to other superstitions, in which the Bakalai
seem to be either peculiarly rich, or to have betrayed more of their
religious system than strangers can generally learn from savages. The
usual amount of inconsistency is found in their religion, if we may
dignify with such a name a mere string of incongruous superstitions. In
the first place, there is nothing which they dread so much as death,
which they believe to be the end of all life; and yet they have a
nearly equal fear of ghosts and spirits, which they believe to haunt
the woods after dark.
This fear of death is one of their principal inducements to shift their
dwellings. If any one dies in a village, Death is thought to have taken
possession of the place, and the inhabitants at once abandon it, and
settle down in another spot. The prevalence of this idea is the cause
of much cruelty toward the sick and infirm, who are remorselessly
driven from the villages, lest they should die, and so bring death into
the place.
M. du Chaillu gives a very forcible illustration of this practice. “I
have twice seen old men thus driven out, nor could I persuade any one
to give comfort and shelter to these friendless wretches. Once, an old
man, poor and naked, lean as death himself, and barely able to walk,
hobbled into a Bakalai village, where I was staying. Seeing me, the
poor old fellow came to beg some tobacco--their most cherished solace.
I asked him where he was going.
“‘I don’t know.’
“‘Where are you from?’
“He mentioned a village a few miles off.
“‘Have you no friends there?’
“‘None.’
“‘No son, no daughter, no brother, no sister?’
“‘None.’
“‘You are sick?’
“‘They drove me away for that.’
“‘What will you do?’
“‘Die!’
“A few women came up to him and gave him water and a little food, but
the men saw death in his eyes. They drove him away. He went sadly, as
though knowing and submitting to his fate. A few days after, his poor
lean body was found in the wood. His troubles were ended.”
This is the “noble savage,” whose unsophisticated virtues have been so
often lauded by those who have never seen him, much less lived with him.
The terror which is felt at the least suspicion of witchcraft often
leads to bloody and cruel actions. Any one who dies a natural death,
or is killed by violence, is thought to have been bewitched, and the
first object of his friends is to find out the sorcerer. There was in
a Bakalai village a little boy, ten years of age, who was accused of
sorcery. The mere accusation of a crime which cannot be disproved is
quite enough in this land, and the population of the village rushed on
the poor little boy, and cut him to pieces with their knives. They
were positively mad with rage, and did not cool down for several hours
afterward.
The prevalence of this superstition was a sad trial to M. du Chaillu
when he was seized with a fever. He well knew that his black friends
would think that he had been bewitched, and, in case of his death,
would be sure to pounce upon some unlucky wretch, and put him to a
cruel death as a wizard. Indeed, while he was ill one of his men
took up the idea of witchcraft, and at night paraded the village,
threatening to kill the sorcerer who had bewitched his master.
Idolatry is carried on here, as in most heathen countries, by dancing,
drumming, and singing, neither the songs nor dances being very decent
in their character. One of the chief idols of the Bakalai was in the
keeping of Mbango, the head of a clan. The image is made of wood, and
represents a grotesque female figure, nearly of the size of life. Her
eyes are copper, her feet are cloven like those of a deer, one cheek is
yellow, the other red, and a necklace of leopard’s teeth hangs round
her neck. She is a very powerful idol, speaks on great occasions, and
now and then signifies approbation by nodding her head. Also she eats
meat when it is offered to her, and, when she has exhibited any of
those tokens of power, she is taken into the middle of the street, so
that all the people may assemble and feast their eyes on the wooden
divinity.
Besides the ordinary worship of the idol, the women have religious
ceremonies of their own, which strangely remind the reader of the
ancient mysteries related by sundry classic authors. To one of these
ceremonies M. du Chaillu became a spectator in rather an unexpected
manner.
“One day the women began their peculiar worship of Njambai, which it
seems is their good spirit: and it is remarkable that all the Bakalai
clans, and all the females of tribes I have met during my journeys,
worship or venerate a spirit with this same name. Near the sea-shore it
is pronounced Njembai, but it is evidently the same.
“This worship of the women is a kind of mystery, no men being admitted
to the ceremonies, which are carried on in a house very carefully
closed. This house was covered with dry palm and banana leaves, and
had not even a door open to the street. To make all close, it was set
against two other houses, and the entrance was through one of these.
Quengueza and Mbango warned me not to go near this place, as not even
they were permitted so much as to take a look. All the women of the
village painted their faces and bodies, beat drums, marched about the
town, and from time to time entered the idol house, where they danced
all one night, and made a more outrageous noise than even the men had
made before. They also presented several antelopes to the goddess, and
on the fourth all but a few went off into the woods to sing to Njambai.
“I noticed that half-a-dozen remained, and in the course of the morning
entered the Njambai house, where they stayed in great silence. Now my
curiosity, which had been greatly excited to know what took place in
this secret worship, finally overcame me. I determined to see. Walking
several times up and down the street past the house to allay suspicion,
I at last suddenly pushed aside some of the leaves, and stuck my head
through the wall. For a moment I could distinguish nothing in the
darkness. Then I beheld three perfectly naked old hags sitting on the
clay floor, with an immense bundle of greegrees before them, which they
seemed to be silently adoring.
“When they saw me they at once set up a hideous howl of rage, and
rushed out to call their companions from the bush; in a few minutes
these came hurrying in, crying and lamenting, rushing toward me with
gestures of anger, and threatening me for my offence. I quickly reached
my house, and, seizing my gun in one hand and a revolver in the other,
told them I would shoot the first one that came inside my door. The
house was surrounded by above three hundred infuriated women, every one
shouting out curses at me, but the sight of my revolver kept them back.
They adjourned presently for the Njambai house, and from there sent a
deputation of the men, who were to inform me that I must pay for the
palaver I had made.
“This I peremptorily refused to do, telling Quengueza and Mbango that I
was there a stranger, and must be allowed to do as I pleased, as their
rules were nothing to me, who was a white man and did not believe in
their idols. In truth, if I had once paid for such a transgression as
this, there would have been an end of all travelling for me, as I often
broke through their absurd rules without knowing it, and my only course
was to declare myself irresponsible.
“However, the women would not give up, but threatened vengeance, not
only on me, but on all the men of the town; and, as I positively
refused to pay anything, it was at last, to my great surprise,
determined by Mbango and his male subjects that they would make up from
their own possessions such a sacrifice as the women demanded of me.
Accordingly Mbango contributed ten fathoms of native cloth, and the men
came one by one and put their offerings on the ground; some plates,
some knives, some mugs, some beads, some mats, and various other
articles. Mbango came again, and asked if I too would not contribute
something, but I refused. In fact, I dared not set such a precedent. So
when all had given what they could, the whole amount was taken to the
ireful women, to whom Mbango said that I was his and his men’s guest,
and that they could not ask me to pay in such a matter, therefore
they paid the demand themselves. With this the women were satisfied,
and there the quarrel ended. Of course I could not make any further
investigations into their mysteries. The Njambai feast lasts about
two weeks. I could learn very little about the spirit which they call
by this name. Their own ideas are quite vague. They know only that it
protects the women against their male enemies, avenges their wrongs,
and serves them in various ways if they please it.”
The superstitions concerning death even extend to those cases where
a man has been killed by accident. On one occasion, a man had been
shot while bathing, whereupon the whole tribe fell into a panic,
thought that the village had been attacked by witches, and straightway
abandoned it. On their passage to some more favored spot, they halted
for the night at another village, and at sunset they all retired to
their huts, and began the mournful chant with which they celebrate the
loss of their friends. The women were loud in their lamentations, as
they poured out a wailing song which is marvellously like the “keen” of
the Irish peasantry:--
“You will never speak to us any more!
“We cannot see your face any more!
“You will never walk with us again!
“You will never again settle our palavers for us!”
And so on, _ad libitum_. In fact, the lives of the Bakalai, which
might be so joyous and free of care, are quite embittered by the
superstitious fears which assail them on every side.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE ASHIRA.
APPEARANCE AND DRESS OF THE NATIVES -- A MATRIMONIAL SQUABBLE --
NATURAL CUNNING OF THE ASHIRA -- VARIOUS MODES OF PROCURING FOOD --
NATIVE PLANTATIONS -- THE CHIEF’S “KOMBO,” OR SALUTATION -- ASHIRA
ARCHITECTURE -- NATIVE AGRICULTURE -- SLAVERY AMONG THE ASHIRA --
MEDICINE AND SURGERY -- AN “HEROIC” TREATMENT -- SUPERSTITIONS --
HOW TO CATCH GAME -- TRIAL OF THE ACCUSED -- THE ORDEAL OF THE RING
-- THE ASHIRA FAREWELL -- FUNERAL CEREMONIES -- DEATH AND BURIAL OF
OLENDA.
The tribe next in order is the Ashira. These people are not so nomad
in their habits as the Bakalai, and are therefore more concentrated
in one locality. They certainly are apt to forsake a village on some
great occasion, but they never move to any great distance, and are not
so apt to take flight as the Bakalai. The Ashira are a singularly fine
race of men. Their color is usually black, but individuals among them,
especially those of high rank, are of a comparatively light hue, being
of a dark, warm bronze rather than black. The features of the Ashira
are tolerably good.
The dress of the natives has its distinguishing points. The men and
married women wear the grass-cloth robe, and the former are fond of
covering their heads with a neat cap made of grass. So much stress do
they lay on this article of apparel, that the best way of propitiating
an Ashira man is to give him one of the scarlet woollen caps so
affected by fishermen and yachtsmen of our country. There is nothing
which he prizes so highly as this simple article, and even the king
himself will think no sacrifice too great provided that he can obtain
one of those caps.
The men also carry a little grass bag, which they sling over one
shoulder, and which is ornamented with a number of pendent strings
or thongs. It answers the purpose of a pocket, and is therefore very
useful where the clothing is of so very limited a character. Both sexes
wear necklaces, bracelets, and anklets, made of thick copper bars, and
they also display some amount of artistic taste in the patterns with
which they dye their robes.
The strangest part of Ashira fashion is, that the females wear no
clothing of any kind until they are married. They certainly tie a small
girdle of grass cloth round the waists, but it is only intended for
ornament, not for dress. As is usual in similar cases, the whole of
the toilet is confined to the dressing of the hair and painting of the
body. The woolly hair is teased out with a skewer, well rubbed with
oil and clay, and worked up until it looks something like a cocked
hat, rising high on the top of the head and coming to a point before
and behind. Mostly, the hair is kept in its position by a number of
little sticks or leaves, which are passed through it, and serve as
the framework on which it rests. Filing the teeth is practised by the
Ashira, though very few of them carry the practice to such an extent as
to reduce the teeth to points.
Among the West Africans, the women are not so badly treated as in the
south, and indeed, are considered nearly as the equals of men. They
can hold property of their own, and are quite aware of the importance
which such an arrangement gives them. Máyolo, one of the chiefs, had
a most absurd quarrel with his favorite wife, a young woman of twenty
years of age, and remarkable for her light-colored skin and hazel eyes.
She had contrived either to lose or waste some of his tobacco, and he
threatened to punish her by taking away the pipe, which, among these
tribes, belongs equally to the husband and wife. She retorted that he
could not do so, because the plantain stem of the pipe was cut from one
of her own trees, and if he quarrelled with her, she would take away
the stem, and not allow him to cut another from the plantain trees,
which belonged to her and not to him. The quarrel was soon made up, but
the fact that it took place at all shows the position which the women
hold in domestic affairs.
As is often the case with savages, the Ashira exhibits a strange
mixture of character. Ignorant though he may be, he is possessed of
great natural cunning. No man can lie with so innocent a face as the
“noble savage,” and no one is more capable of taking care of his own
interests. The Ashira porters were a continual source of trouble to Du
Chaillu, and laid various deep plans for increase of wages. Those of
one clan refused to work in company with those of another, and, on the
principle of trades’ unions, struck work unanimously if a man belonging
to another clan were permitted to handle a load.
Having thus left the traveller with all his packages in the forest,
their next plan was to demand higher wages before they would consent
to re-enter the service. In the course of the palaver which ensued on
this demand, a curious stroke of diplomacy was discovered. The old men
appeared to take his part, declared that the demands of the young men
were exorbitant, and aided him in beating them down, asking higher
wages for themselves as a percentage on their honorable conduct. When
the affair was settled, and the men paid, the young men again struck
work, saying that it was not fair for the old men, who had no burdens
to carry, to have higher wages than themselves, and demanding that all
should be paid alike. In course of investigation it was discovered that
this was a deeply-laid scheme, planned by both parties in order to
exact higher wages for the whole.
These people can be at the same time dishonest and honorable,
hard-hearted and kind, disobedient and faithful. When a number of
Ashira porters were accompanying Du Chaillu on his journey, they
robbed him shamefully, by some unfortunate coincidence stealing just
those articles which could not be of the least use to them, and the
loss of which would be simply irreparable. That they should steal his
provisions was to be expected, but why they should rob him of his
focussing glasses and black curtains of the camera was not so clear.
The cunning of the Ashira was as remarkable as their dishonesty. All
the villages knew the whole circumstances. They knew who were the
thieves, what was stolen, and where the property had been hidden, but
the secret was so well kept that not even a child gave the least hint
which would lead to the discovery of the stolen goods.
Yet when, in the course of the journey, they were reduced to
semi-starvation, on account of the negro habit of only carrying
two or three days’ provision, the men happened to kill a couple of
monkeys, and offered them both to the leader whom they had been so
remorselessly plundering. Even when he refused to take them to himself,
they insisted on his retaining the lion’s share, and were as pleasant
and agreeable as if no differences had existed.
Next day, however, those impulsive and unreflecting creatures changed
their conduct again. They chose to believe, or say they believed,
that the expedition would come to harm, and tried to get their pay
in advance, for the purpose of running off with it. When this very
transparent device was detected, they openly avowed their intention
of running away, and threatened to do so even without their pay.
Fortunately, the dreaded name of Quengueza had its effect on them, and,
as it was represented to them that war would certainly be made on the
Ashira by that chief if they dared to forsake the white traveller whom
he had committed to their charge, they resumed their burdens. In the
course of the day supplies arrived, and all was peace again.
The reason why the natives dislike taking much food with them is that
the plantains which form the usual rations are very heavy, and the men
would rather trust to the chance of coming on a village than trouble
themselves with extra loads. However, there are the koola and mpegai
nuts, on which the natives usually live while travelling in the nut
season.
The koola is a singularly useful nut. It grows in such abundance on
the tree, that when the nuts are ripe, the whole crown of the koola
tree appears to be a single mass of fruit. It is round, about as
large as a cherry, and the shell is so hard that it has to be broken
between two stones. Thirty of these nuts are considered sufficient for
a meal, even for a native African, and, as a general rule, the trees
are so plentiful that the natives do not trouble themselves about
carrying food in the nut season. M. du Chaillu, however, was singularly
unfortunate, for he contrived to miss the koola trees on his journey,
and hence the whole party suffered great privation.
The wild swine know the value of the koola nuts as well as the natives,
and in the season become quite fat and sleek.
The mpegai nut is round, like the koola, but the kernel is three-lobed.
It is so full of oil that it is formed into cakes by the simple
operation of pounding the kernel, folding the paste in leaves, and
smoking them over a wood fire. When thus treated, it can be kept for
a considerable time, and is generally eaten with pepper and salt, if
these can be obtained. Neither the koola nor the mpegai are cultivated
by the improvident natives.
About ten miles from Olenda’s residence was a village belonging to
a chief named Angouka, and remarkable for the manner in which the
plantain was cultivated. In one plantation there were about thirty
thousand trees, set about five feet apart. Each tree produced five
or six shoots, but the cultivators cut away all but two or three of
the finest, in accordance with true arboricultural principles. On an
average, thirty pounds’ weight of fruit were grown on each tree, and
the natives managed so as to keep up a tolerably constant supply by
planting several varieties of the tree, some bearing fruit in six
months after planting, some ten months, and others not until eighteen
months, the last being the best and most fertile.
While describing the journeys of certain travellers, mention is
frequently made of the porters and their loads. The burdens are
carried in rather a peculiar manner. The men have a sort of oblong
basket, called “otaitai,” which is made of canes woven closely along
the bottom, and loosely along the sides. The elasticity of the sides
enables it to accommodate itself to various-sized loads, as they can
be drawn together if the loads should be small, or expanded to admit
a larger burden. Three broad straps, made of rushes, are fixed to the
otaitai, one passing over each shoulder of the porter and the other one
over his forehead.
Some of the ceremonies employed by the Ashira are very curious. Each
chief has a sort of salutation, called “Kombo,” which he addresses to
every one of importance whom he meets for the first time. For example,
when M. du Chaillu met Olenda, the head chief of a sub-tribe of the
Ashira, a singular scene took place. After waiting for some time, he
heard the ringing of the “kando” or sacred bell, which is the emblem
of royalty in this land, and which is only sounded on occasions of
ceremony.
Presently the old chief appeared--a man of venerable aspect, and very
old indeed. His woolly hair was perfectly white, his body bent almost
double with age, and his face one mass of wrinkles. By way of adding
to the beauty of his countenance, he had covered one side of his face
with red and the other with white stripes. He was so old that he
was accompanied by many of his children, all old, white-headed, and
wrinkled men. The natives held him in great respect, believing that he
had a powerful fetish against death.
As soon as he had recovered from the sight of a clothed man with
straight hair, steady eyes, and a white face, he proceeded to make a
speech which, when translated, was as follows: “I have no bowels. I
am like the Ovenga River: I cannot be cut in two. But also, I am like
the Niembai and Ovenga rivers, which unite together. Thus my body is
united, and nothing can divide it.” This address was rather puzzling
because no sense could be made from it, but the interpreter explained
that this was merely the kombo, and that sense was not a necessary
ingredient in it.
According to the etiquette of the country, after Olenda had made his
salutation, he offered his presents, consisting of three goats, twenty
fowls, twenty bunches of plantains, several baskets of ground-nuts,
some sugar-cane, and two slaves. That the last-mentioned articles
should be declined was a most astonishing phenomenon to the Ashira.
This mode of salutation is finely represented in an engraving on the
next page.
The villages of the Ashira are singularly neat and cleanly, a most
remarkable fact, considering the propensity to removal on the death of
an inhabitant. They consist mostly of one long street, the houses being
built of bark, and having the ground cleared at the back of the houses
as well as in the front,--almost the only example of such industry in
this part of Africa. Paths invariably lead from one village to another.
The Ashira are a tolerably industrious tribe, and cultivate the land
around their villages, growing tobacco, plantains, yams, sugar-cane,
and other plants with much success. The tobacco leaves, when plucked
and dried, are plaited together in a sort of flat rope, and are then
rolled up tightly, so that a considerable quantity of tobacco is
contained in a very small space.
Of course, they drink the palm wine, and, as the method of procuring
this universally favorite beverage is rather peculiar, it will be
briefly explained. The native, taking with him an empty calabash or
two, and a kind of auger, climbs the tree by means of a hoop made of
pliant creepers; tying the hoop loosely round the tree, he gets into
it, so that his back is pressed against the hoop and his feet against
the tree. By a succession off “hitches,” he ascends the tree, much as a
chimney-sweep of the old times used to ascend the wide chimneys, which
are now superseded by the narrow, machine-swept flues, lifting the hoop
at every hitch, and so getting up the tree with wonderful rapidity.
When he has reached the top, he takes the auger out of the little bag
which is hung round his neck, and bores a deep hole, just below the
crown of the palm. A leaf is then plucked, rolled up in a tubular form,
and one end inserted into the hole, the calabash being hung just below
the other end. During the night the sap runs freely into the calabash,
several quarts being procured in a single night. In the morning it is
removed and a fresh calabash substituted. Even in its fresh state the
juice is a very pleasant drink, but after standing for twenty-four
hours it ferments, and then becomes extremely intoxicating, the process
of fermentation being generally hastened by adding the remains of the
previous day’s brewing. The supply of juice decreases gradually, and,
when the native thinks that the tree will produce no more, he plugs
up the hole with clay to prevent insects from building their nests
in it, and so killing the valuable tree. Three weeks is the average
juice-producing time, and if a tree be forced beyond this point it is
apt to die.
[Illustration: (1.) ASHIRA FAREWELL. (See page 502.)]
[Illustration: (2.) OLENDA’S SALUTATION TO AN ISHOGO CHIEF. (See page
498.)]
Besides the tobacco, the Ashira cultivate a plant called the liamba,
_i. e._ _Cannabis_, or Indian hemp, either the same species from which
the far-famed haschish of the East is made, or very closely allied
to it. They always choose a rich and moist soil on the sunny side
of a hill, as the plant requires both heat and moisture to attain
perfection. The natives seem to prefer their liamba even to the
tobacco; but there are some doubts whether both these plants have not
been imported, the tobacco from America and the liamba from Asia, or
more likely from north-western Africa. Du Chaillu says that the Ashira
and Apingi are the only tribes who cultivate it. Its effects upon the
smokers are terrible, causing them to become for the time insane,
rushing into the woods in a frantic state, quarrelling, screaming, and
at last falling down in convulsions. Permanent madness is often the
result of over-indulgence in this extraordinary luxury.
The above-mentioned traveller met with an idiot among the Ashira.
Contrary to the usual development of idiocy among the Africans, the man
was lively and jocular, jumping about with all kinds of strange antics,
and singing joyous songs. The other inhabitants were very fond of him,
and treated him well, and with a sort of reverence, as something above
their comprehension. Idiots of the dull kind are treated harshly, and
the usual mode of getting rid of them is to sell them as slaves, and so
to foist them upon the purchaser before he learns the quality of his
bargain.
Slavery exists among the Ashira as among other tribes, but is conducted
in so humane a character that it has little connection with the system
of slavery as the word is generally understood. Olenda, for example,
had great numbers of slaves, and kept them in separate settlements,
each consisting of two or three hundred, each such settlement having
its chief, himself a slave. One of these slave chiefs was an Ashango,
a noble-looking man, with several wives and plenty of children. He
exercised quite a patriarchal sway over the people under his charge,
and neither he nor the slaves seemed to consider their situation at all
degrading, calling themselves the children of Olenda.
This village was remarkably neat, and the houses were better built than
those of the Ashira generally. The inhabitants had cleared a large
tract of ground, and covered it with the plantains, sugar-canes, and
ground-nuts, all of which were thriving wonderfully, and had a most
picturesque appearance when contrasted with the wild beauties of the
surrounding forest. Most of these slave families had been inherited by
Olenda, and many of them had never known any other kind of life.
Medicine and surgery are both practised among the tribes that live
along the Rembo, and in a very singular manner. The oddest thing about
the practitioner is, that the natives always try to procure one from
another tribe, so that an Ashango patient has a Bakalai doctor, and
_vice versa_. The African prophet has little honor in his own country,
but, the farther he goes, the more he is respected. Evil spirits that
have defied all the exorcisms of home-bred prophets are sure to quail
before the greater powers of a sorcerer who lives at a distance; while
the same man who has failed at home is tolerably sure to succeed abroad.
The natives have one grand panacea for all kinds of disorders, the same
being used for both lumbago and leprosy. This consists of scarifying
the afflicted part with a knife, making a great number of slight cuts,
and then rubbing in a mixture of pounded capsicum and lime juice. The
agony caused by this operation is horrible, and even the blunt nerves
of an African can barely endure the pain. If a native is seized with
dysentery, the same remedy is applied internally, and the patient
will sometimes drink half a tumblerful for a dose. There is some
ground for their faith in the capsicum, for it really is beneficial
in the West African climate, and if a traveller feels feverish he can
generally relieve the malady by taking plenty of red pepper with his
food. Sometimes, when the disease will not yield to the lime juice
and pepper, stronger remedies are tried. M. du Chaillu saw a curious
instance of the manner in which a female practitioner exercised her art
on Máyolo, whose quarrel with his wife has already been mentioned.
The patient was seated on the ground, with a genet skin stretched
before him, and the woman was kneading his body with her hands,
muttering her incantations in a low voice. When she had finished this
manipulation, she took a piece of the alumbi chalk, and drew a broad
stripe down the middle of his chest and along each arm. Her next
process was to chew a quantity of roots and seeds, and to spirt it over
the body, directing her heaviest shots at the affected parts. Lastly,
she took a bunch of dried grasses, twisted them into a kind of torch,
lighted it, and applied the flame to various parts of the body and
limbs, beginning at the feet and ending with the head. When the torch
had burned itself out, she dashed the glowing end against the patient’s
body, and so ended her operations. Máyolo sat perfectly still during
the proceedings, looking on with curiosity, and only wincing slightly
as the flame scorched his skin. The Africans have a great faith in the
efficacy of fire, and seem to think that, when it has been applied, it
effectually prevents a recurrence of the disease.
The worship of the Ashira is idolatry of the worst description. One
of their ongaras, or idols, named the Housekeeper, was purchased by
Du Chaillu. It was, of course, hideously ugly, represented a female
figure, and was kept in the house of a chief for the purpose of
protecting property. The natives were horribly afraid of it, and, so
long as the Housekeeper was in her place, the owner might leave his
goods in perfect security, knowing that not a native would dare to
touch them.
Skilful hunters as they are, they never start on the chase without
preparing themselves by sundry charms. They hang all kinds of strange
fetishes about their persons, and cut the backs of their hands for
luck, the flowing blood having, according to their ideas, a wonderful
efficacy. If they can rub a little powdered sulphur into the cuts, the
power of the charm is supposed to be doubled, and any man who has thus
prepared himself never misses his aim when he shoots. Painting the
face red is also a great assistance in hunting; and, in consequence of
these strange beliefs, a party of natives just starting for the chase
presents a most absurd appearance.
Along the river Rembo are certain sacred spots, on which the natives
think themselves bound to land and dance in honor of the spirit. In
one place there is a ceremony analogous to that of “crossing the line”
in our own vessels. When any one passes the spot for the first time,
he is obliged to disembark, to chant a song in praise of the local
deity, to pluck a bough from a tree and plant it in the mud. When Du
Chaillu passed the spot, he was requested to follow the usual custom,
but refused, on the ground of disbelief in polytheism. As usual, the
natives admitted his plea as far as he was concerned. He was a great
white man, and one God was enough for the rich and wise white men. But
black men were poor and ignorant, and therefore wanted plenty of gods
to take care of them.
Many superstitions seem to be connected with trees. There is one
magnificent tree called the “oloumi,” perhaps the largest species that
is to be found in Western Africa. The bark of the oloumi is said to
possess many healing qualities, and, if a man washes himself all over
with a decoction of the bark before starting on a trading expedition,
he will be sure to make good bargains. Consequently, the oloumi trees
(which are rather scarce) are always damaged by the natives, who tear
great strips of bark from the trunk for the purpose of making this
magic decoction.
A rather remarkable ordeal is in use among the Ashira,--remarkable
because it is so exactly like the ordeals of the Middle Ages.
A Bakalai canoe had been injured, and a little boy, son to Aquilai,
a far-famed Bakalai sorcerer, said that the damage had been done by
one of Quengueza’s men. Of course the man denied the accusation, and
called for the ordeal, and, as the matter concerned the Bakalai, an
Ashira wizard was summoned, according to the usual custom. He said that
“the only way to make the truth appear was by the trial of the ring
boiled in oil.” Hereupon the Bakalai and the Goumbi (_i. e._ Camma) men
gathered together, and the trial was at once made.
“The Ashira doctor set three little billets of bar wood in the ground,
with their ends together, then piled some smaller pieces between, until
all were laid as high as the three pieces. A native pot half full of
palm oil was set upon the wood, and the oil was set on fire. When it
burned up brightly, a brass ring from the doctor’s hand was cast into
the pot. The doctor stood by with a little vase full of grass, soaked
in water, of which he threw in now and then some bits. This made the
oil burn up afresh. At last all was burnt out, and now came the trial.
The accuser, the little boy, was required to take the ring out of the
pot. He hesitated, but was pushed on by his father. The people cried
out, ‘Let us see if he lied or told truth.’ Finally he put his hand in,
seized the redhot ring, but quickly dropped it, having severely burned
his fingers. At this there was a shout, ‘He lied! He lied!’ and the
Goumbi man was declared innocent.”
The reader will remember that when Du Chaillu visited the Ashira, he
was received by the wonderful old chief Olenda, whose salutation was
of so extraordinary a character. The mode in which he dismissed his
guests was not less curious. Gathering his old and white-haired sons
round him, Olenda addressed the travellers, wishing them success, and
uttering a sort of benediction. He then took some sugar-cane, bit a
piece of the pith out of it, chewed it, and spat a small portion into
the hand of each of the travellers, muttering at the same time some
words to the effect that he hoped that all things would go pleasantly
with them, and be sweet as the breath which he had blown on their
hands. The reader will find this “Farewell” illustrated on page 499.
Advanced as was his age, he lived for some years longer, until he
succumbed to the small-pox in common with many of his relatives and
people. The circumstances attending his death and burial were very
characteristic of the people.
First Olenda’s head wife died of it, and then the disease spread with
frightful rapidity through the district, the whole of the chief’s wives
being taken with it, and Mpoto, his nephew and heir, dying after a
very short illness. Then Olenda himself took the disease. Day after
day the poor old man’s plaintive voice was heard chanting his song of
grief at the pestilence which had destroyed his clan, and one morning
he complained of fever and thirst, the sure signs of the disease. On
the third day afterward Olenda was dead, having previously exhorted the
people that if he died they were not to hold the white man responsible
for his death. The exhortation was needful, as they had already begun
to accuse him of bringing the small-pox among them.
His body was disposed of in the usual Ashira manner. It was taken to
an open place outside the village, dressed in his best clothes, and
seated on the earth, surrounded with various articles of property, such
as chests, plates, jugs, cooking utensils, pipes, and tobacco. A fire
was also made near him, and kept burning for several weeks. As the body
was carried to the place of sepulture, the people broke out in wild
plaintive cries, addressing the deceased, and asking him why he left
his people. Around him were the bones of many other chiefs who had
preceded him to the spirit-world; and as the Ashira do not bury their
dead, but merely leave them on the surface of the ground, it may be
imagined that the place presented a most dismal aspect.
For several days after Olenda’s death the people declared that they had
seen their deceased chief walking among them, and saying that he had
not left them entirely, but would guard and watch over them, and would
return occasionally to see how they were going on.
CHAPTER XLIX.
THE CAMMA, OR COMMI.
THE FERNAND VAZ, OR REMBO RIVER -- KING QUENGUEZA AND HIS DOMINIONS
-- APPEARANCE OF THE CAMMA -- CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE AS EXEMPLIFIED
BY THEIR KING -- THE “PALAVER” AND ITS DISCIPLINE -- HONESTY OF
THE CAMMA -- THE COURSE OF JUSTICE AND LAW OF REPRISAL -- CODE OF
ETIQUETTE -- CAMMA DIGNITY -- DANCING AMONG THE CAMMA -- THE GORILLA
DANCE -- SUPERSTITION, ITS USE AND ABUSE -- QUENGUEZA’S TEMPLES
-- HIS PERILOUS WALK -- GOOD AND EVIL SPIRITS -- THE OVENGUA, OR
VAMPIRE -- THE TERRORS OF SUPERSTITION -- INITIATION INTO THE SACRED
MYSTERIES -- EXORCISM -- THE SELF-DECEIVER -- THE GODDESS OF THE
SLAVES -- THE ORDEAL OF THE MBOUNDOU -- A TERRIBLE SCENE -- SICKNESS,
DEATH, AND BURIAL -- DISPOSITION OF THE DEAD -- BREAKING UP OF
MOURNING -- THE WATER CUSTOM.
If the reader will look on the west coast of Africa, just below the
Equator, he will see a large and important river called the Fernand
Vaz. This river skirts the coast for some distance, and is very wide,
but, when it turns eastward, it suddenly narrows its channel, and is
known by the name of Rembo. The whole of the district through which the
Rembo flows, as far as long. 10° E., is inhabited by the great Camma or
Commi tribe, which is evidently another band of the same family that
supplies all the tribes along the Rembo.
This tribe is broken up into a vast number of sub-tribes or clans, and
each of these clans is ruled by a chief, who acknowledges himself to be
a vassal of one great chief or king, named Quengueza. This man was fond
of calling himself King of the Rembo, by which we must understand, not
that he was king of all the tribes that inhabit its banks, but that he
had authority over the river, and could prevent or encourage traffic as
he chose. And, as the Rembo is the great highway into Central Africa,
his position was necessarily a very important one.
Still, although he was not absolutely the king of these tribes, several
of them acknowledged his superiority, and respected him, and respect,
as is well said in “Eöthen,” implies the right of the respected person
to take the property of those who respect him. Consequently Quengueza
had a right--and exercised it--to the wife of any Bakalai or Ashira,
and even the chiefs of those tribes thought themselves honored by
placing their wives at the disposal of so eminent a personage. And he
certainly claimed an authority over the river itself and its traffic.
The Bakalai had submitted themselves to him for the sake of alliance
with so powerful a chief, and found that he was by no means disposed
to content himself with the mere name of sovereignty. On one occasion,
when passing along the Rembo, he found that the Bakalai had quarrelled
with a neighboring tribe, and had built a fence across the river,
leaving only a small gap, which could easily be defended. On coming to
this obstacle, Quengueza became very angry, called for axes, and in a
minute or two the fence was demolished, and the passage of the river
freed. The Bakalai stood on the banks in great numbers, and, although
well armed, dared not interfere.
The mode of government which prevails through all these tribes may
be called the patriarchal. Each tribe is divided into a number of
sub-tribes or clans, each of which resides in a separate locality,
that is usually called after the name of the chief or patriarch. This
man is always reverenced, because he is sure to be old and rich, and
age and wealth are greatly venerated in this part of the world. Their
authority, however, is extremely limited, and they are rather the chief
advisers of their clan than autocrats. There is no real monarchy, such
as is found among the Kaffir tribes, although the most important chief
is sometimes greeted with the title of king. The honor, however, is an
empty one, as the other chiefs have no idea of submitting themselves to
one whom they consider to be but _primus inter pares_.
The Camma are a fine race of people, and, like the Ashira, are not
entirely black, but vary much in hue, some having a decided olive
or chocolate tint of skin. Neither are their features those of the
true negro, the face of the king Quengueza resembling that of a
North American Indian rather than that of an African. The character
of the Camma is well typified by that of their chief, Quengueza. He
exhibited a singular mixture of nobility, meanness, kindness, cruelty,
selfishness, and generosity, as is well shown by the visits of M. du
Chaillu and Mr. W. Reade--the former thinking much more highly of him
than the latter.
Like other savage chiefs, Quengueza could not bear his white visitors
to leave him. He openly thwarted Mr. Reade, and it is evident from M.
du Chaillu’s account that, while he was pretending to procure porters
for the journey to the Bakalai, he was in reality throwing every
obstacle in the way. The possession of a white man is far too valuable
to a black chief to be surrendered in a hurry, and Quengueza knew his
own interests too well to allow such profitable visitors to leave his
land as long as he could detain them in it.
Once Mr. Reade had succeeded in slipping off, in spite of the king’s
assertion that he would accompany his “dear friend” and his continual
procrastination. He had paddled to some distance, when “suddenly my men
stopped, and looked at each other with anxious faces. Lazily raising
myself, I looked back, and could see at a great distance a large black
spot, and something rising and falling like a streak of light in the
sunshine. The men put their hands to their ears: I listened, and could
hear now and then a faint note borne toward us on the wind.
“‘What’s that, Mafuk?’
“‘King, sir.’
“‘O, he is coming, is he?’ said I, laughing. ‘Well, he can easily catch
us, now he is so near. _Kabbi!_’ (_i. e._ Paddle!)
“My stewards gave an uneasy smile, and did not answer me.
“The men dipped their paddles into the water, and that was all. Every
man was listening with bent head, as if trying to detect the words, or
the tune. I looked round again. I could see that it was a large canoe,
manned by about twenty men, with a kind of thatched house in its stern.
The song still continued, and could now be heard plainly. My men flung
their paddles down, and began to talk to one another in an excited
manner.
“‘What is the matter?’ said I, pettishly.
“The sweat was running down Mafuk’s forehead. He knew what he had to
fear, if I did not.
“‘_It is the war song!_’
“On came the canoe, low and dark, black with men, the paddles tossing
the white water in the air. On it came, shot swiftly past us, arched
round, and came close alongside. Then arose a storm of angry voices,
Quengueza’s raised above the rest.
“‘What does he say, Mafuk?’
“‘Says we must go back.’”
And go back they were forced to do, for just at that moment another
war-boat came gliding along, and the whole party were taken prisoners,
Quengueza embracing his “dear friend,” and being quite lively and
jocular by reason of his success in recapturing him. Yet this man,
superstitious as he was, and dreading above all things the small-pox,
that scourge of savage nations, took into his own hut a favorite little
slave, who had been seized with small-pox, laid the boy on a mat close
to his own bed, and insisted on nursing him throughout the illness.
Afterward, when the small-pox had swept through the country, and
almost desolated it, the sorrow of Quengueza was great and unfeigned.
Wives, slaves, and relations had all been carried off by the dreaded
plague; the town of Goumbi, where he lived, was deserted; and the
poor old chief was obliged to collect the few survivors of his clan,
and establish a new settlement on the opposite side of the river.
His lamentations had all the sublimity of intense grief, and he sat
chanting his monody over the dead, just as Catlin describes a North
American chief when his tribe had perished by the same fearful disease.
No malady is so terrible to the savage as small-pox. Scarcely
susceptible of bodily pain, enduring the most frightful wounds with
quiet composure, and tenacious of life to an astonishing degree, he
succumbs instantly to sickness; and an ailment which a white man
resists and finally throws off, will in nine cases out of ten be fatal
to the black one. Yet for himself Quengueza had no fears, and his sole
lamentations were for his friends. “The Bakalai,” said he, “are all
gone; the Rembo people are all gone; my beloved Monbou (his head slave)
is gone; I am alone in the world.”
In spite of the many barbarous customs of the Camma tribes, they have
a code of minutely regulated etiquette. If, for example, the king
holds a council, he takes his seat on an elevated throne, and bears in
his hand a wooden staff. When he has had his say, he passes the staff
to the person who is to speak next, and he in turn to his successor.
In such meetings the utmost order is preserved, and no one thinks of
interrupting the speaker so long as he has possession of the staff.
It is not every one who has the right of speech in the council. This
is a privilege extended to a very few men called Councillors, or
Makagas, and only to them does the king hand the staff which gives the
permission to speak. They are exceedingly jealous of this honor, and
yet it has been conferred upon two white men, one being M. du Chaillu,
and the other a Captain Lawlin of New York. The latter individual
caused quite a revolution in his district, abolishing the many
impediments to trade, indicting severe penalties on quarrelsome chiefs
who made warlike aggressions on their neighbors, and establishing a
strict code of criminal laws.
Some such arrangements as the possession of the orator’s staff is
absolutely necessary for the due regulation of the innumerable
“palavers,” or native parliaments, that are continually being held on
all sorts of subjects. If one trader overreaches another, and can be
detected in time, a palaver is held; and a similar ceremony is gone
through if a trader pays for goods in advance and does not receive
them. Runaway wives are the most fertile source of palavers, and, if
the accused be proved guilty, the penalty is very severe. Generally the
offending wife has her nose and ears cut off, and a similar punishment
is inflicted on the man with whom she is found; but the latter has the
privilege of commuting this sentence for a fine--generally a slave.
Murder is a frequent cause of palavers, and it is a rather remarkable
fact that the natives draw no distinction between accidental homicide
and wilful murder. Death is not necessarily the punishment of homicide,
but, as a rule, a heavy fine is substituted for the capital penalty.
If the culprit cannot be captured, the injured husband has a singular
mode of procuring a palaver. He goes out and kills the first man he
meets, proclaiming that he has done so because some one has run away
with his wife. The course of justice then passes out of his hands. The
relatives of the murdered man are now bound to take up the quarrel,
which they do by killing, not the murderer, but some one of another
village. His friends retaliate upon a third village, and so the feud
passes from one village to another until the whole district is in arms.
The gates are barricaded, no one dares to go out alone, or unarmed, and
at last one unfortunate clan has a man murdered and can find no chance
of retaliation. The chief of the clan then holds a palaver, and puts
forward his claim against the man who ran away with the wife. The chief
of the delinquent’s clan then pays a fine, the affair is settled, and
peace is restored.
Too often, however, when a wife is, or appears to be, unfaithful, her
husband is in collusion with her, for the purpose of extorting money
out of some imprudent young man. She gets up a flirtation with the
susceptible victim, and appoints a meeting at a spot where the husband
has placed himself in concealment. As soon as the couple reach the
appointed place, out comes the husband, and threatens a palaver if a
fine be not paid at once. The young man knows well enough what the
result of the palaver will be to him, and accordingly makes the best
of the business and pays his fine. So completely established is this
system, that even the most powerful chiefs have been known to purchase
pretty wives for the express purpose of using them as traps wherewith
to ensnare the young men.
As time is not of the least consequence to the Camma, and they
are rather pleased than otherwise when they can find some sort of
amusement, a palaver will sometimes expend a week upon a trivial cause.
All these palavers are held in the simple buildings erected for the
purpose. These edifices are little more than sheds, composed of a roof
supported on poles, and open on all sides. The king sits in the middle
on an elevated throne made of grass, and covered with leopard skins as
emblems of his rank, while all the others are obliged either to stand
or to sit on the ground.
When palavers are of no avail, and nothing but war can be the result of
the quarrel, both parties try to frighten the enemy by the hideousness
of their appearance. They are perfectly aware that they could not
withstand a charge, and, knowing that the enemy is not more gifted
with courage than themselves, try to inspire terror by their menacing
aspect. They paint their faces white, this being the war color, and
sometimes add bars and stripes of red paint. The white paint, or chalk,
is prepared in their greegree or idol houses, and is thought to be a
very powerful charm. They also hang fetishes of various kinds upon
their bodies, and then set off in their canoes, yelling, shouting,
flourishing their weapons, and trying to intimidate their adversaries,
but taking very good care not to come within two hundred yards of the
enemy’s boats.
The Camma seem to be a better principled people than the Ashira. When
Du Chaillu was troubled with the strikes among his Ashira porters, his
Camma men stood by him, and would not consent to his plan of sending
them forward with part of the goods. They feared lest he should be
poisoned among the Ashira, and insisted on leaving some of their party
with their chief.
[Illustration: (1.) CAMMA DANCE. (See page 509.)]
[Illustration: (2.) QUENGUEZA’S WALK. (See page 511.)]
The reader may remember that the old chief Olenda was held in great
respect by his people. Among the tribes of Equatorial Africa much
reverence is paid to age, an old person being looked upon as nearly
akin to the spirits into whose land he is soon to enter. Contrary to
the usual custom of the South, the young never enter the presence of an
old man or woman without bending low, and making a genuine school-girl
courtesy. When they seat themselves, it is always at a respectful
distance; and if they are asked for a pipe, or for water, they present
it on one knee, addressing a man as “Father” and a woman as “Mother.”
It is, moreover, contrary to etiquette for a young man to tell bad news
to an old one. Even the dead bodies of the old are honored, and the
bones and skulls are laid up in little temples made expressly for them.
They are usually laid in chalk, which is therefore thought to possess
sundry virtues, and with that chalk the relations of the dead man
mark their bodies whenever they are about to engage in any important
undertaking. The skull is also put to practical uses. If a trader comes
to make purchases, the vender always entertains him hospitably, but
has a definite purpose in so doing. Before he prepares the banquet, he
goes to the fetish house, and scrapes a little powder from the skull.
This he mixes with the food, and thus administers it to his guest. The
spirit of the dead man is then supposed to enter into the body of the
person who has eaten a portion of his skull, and to impress him to make
good bargains with his host--in other words, to be cheated.
When a stranger first enters a Camma village, he is rather surprised at
the number of boxes which he sees. The fact is, that among the Camma
boxes are conventionally held to represent property, the neighbors
giving them the credit of being filled with valuables. Consequently it
is the ambition of every Camma man to collect as many chests as he can,
leaving the chance of filling them to a future opportunity. When his
white visitors gave Quengueza their presents, the old chief was quite
as much struck with the number of boxes as with their contents, and
expressed his gratitude accordingly.
The dances of the Camma have much in common with those of other
tribes, but they have one or two peculiarities of their own. A fat old
head-chief, or king, as their rulers are generally called--though, by
the way, the term “patriarch” would be much more appropriate--gave a
grand dinner in honor of his white visitor. Noise is one of the chief
elements in a negro’s enjoyment, as it is in the case of a child. The
negro, in fact, is the veriest child in many things, and always remains
a child. On this occasion the “band” distinguished themselves by making
a noise disproportionately loud for their numbers.
There was a row of drummers, each beating his noisy instrument
with such energy that a constant succession of drummers took the
instruments, the stoutest and strongest being worn out in less than an
hour. There were also a number of boys beating with sticks upon hollow
pieces of wood, and, as if the drummers and log-beaters did not make
sufficient noise, the musicians had hung a row of brass kettles on
poles, and were banging them with sticks as if they had been drums.
Add to this the shouts and screams of the excited dancers, and the
noise may be tolerably well appreciated. The artist has sketched this
singular dance on the previous page.
Great quantities of palm wine were drunk, and the consequence was, that
before very long the whole of the dancers and musicians, including the
king himself, were in various stages of intoxication. As to the king,
being rather more inebriated than his subjects, he must needs show
his own skill in the dance, and therefore jumped and leaped about the
ground with great agility for so heavy a man, while his wives bowed
down to his feet as he danced, clapped their hands in time to the
music, and treated him with the deepest veneration.
As to the dance itself, the less said about it the better. It is as
immodest as the unrestrained savage temperament can make it, inflamed
by strong drink and by the sound of the drum, which seems to excite the
people almost to madness. The songs with which they accompany the dance
are of a similar nature, and are worse than the worst specimens of
heathen vice as narrated by the classic satirists.
There is, however, one dance in which the immodest element does not
exist. It is called the Gorilla Dance, and is performed as a means of
propitiating the deities before starting on a gorilla hunt: for this
is part of the great gorilla country, in which alone is found that
huge and powerful ape which has lately attracted so much attention. An
account of a gorilla hunt will be given when we come to the Fan tribe,
but at present we will content ourselves with the gorilla dance, as
seen by Mr. W. Reade. He had made several unavailing attempts to kill a
gorilla, and had begun to despair of success, although the place was a
well-known haunt of these animals.
“One morning Etia, the chief hunter of the village, came and told me
that he had heard the cry of a njina (_i. e._ gorilla) close to one of
the neighboring plantations. He said that we should certainly be able
to kill him next day, and that during the night he and his friends
would celebrate the gorilla dance.
“This Etia was a Mchaga slave. His skin, to use Oshupia’s comparison,
was like that of an old alligator--all horny and wrinkled; his left
hand had been crippled by the teeth of a gorilla; his face was absurdly
hideous, and yet reminded me of something which I had seen before.
After puzzling myself for a long time, I at last remembered that it
was the mask which Mr. Ryder wore in the character of Caliban at the
Princess’ which Etia resembled so closely. That night I could have
imagined him less man than monster.
“In the house allotted to the slaves three old men, their faces
grotesquely chalked, played the drums, the sounding log, and the
one-stringed harp. To them danced Etia, imitating the uncouth movements
of the gorilla. Then the iron bell was rung, and Ombuiri, the evil
spirit, was summoned to attend, and a hoarse rattle mingled with the
other sounds. The dancers rushed yelling into the midst, and sprang
into the air. Then would be a pause, broken only by the faint slow
tinkling of the harp, then the drum would be beaten, and the sticks
thundered on the log.
“In another dance Caliban assumed the various attitudes peculiar to
the ape. Now he would be _seated_ on the ground, his legs apart, his
elbows resting on his knees, his head drooping, and in his face the
vacant expression of the brute; sometimes he folded his hands on his
forehead. Suddenly he would raise his head with prone ears and flaming
eyes, while a loud shout of applause would prove how natural it was. In
the chorus all the dancers assumed such postures as these, while Etia,
climbing ape-like up the pole which supported the roof, towered above
them all.
“In the third dance he imitated the gorilla attacked and being
killed. The man, who played the hunter inimitably, acted terror and
irresolution before he pulled the trigger of his imaginary gun.
Caliban, as gorilla, charged _upon all fours_, and fell dead at the
man’s feet, in the act of attempting to seize him with one hand.
“You may be sure that nothing short of seeing a gorilla in its wild
state could have afforded me so much interest or given me so good a
clue to the animal’s real habits. For here could be no imposture. It
was not an entertainment arranged for my benefit, but a religious
festival held on the eve of an enterprise.”
This dance brings us to the religion, or rather the superstition, of
the Camma people. Superstition has its estimable, its grotesque, and
its dark side, and there is scarcely any people among whom these three
phases are more strongly marked.
The estimable side is, of course, the value of superstition as a
substitute for true religion--a feeling of which the savage never
has the least idea, and which it is almost impossible to make him
comprehend. He often takes very kindly to his teacher, picks up with
wonderful readiness the phrases which he hears, regulates his external
life in accordance with the admonitions he has received; but it is
very, very seldom indeed that any real conviction has touched his
heart; and, as soon as the direct influence of his teacher is removed,
he reverts to his old mode of life. Mr. Reade relates a rather striking
example of this tendency. He met a negress on her way to church,
accompanied by a beautiful little girl.
Addressing the child, he asked whether she was the woman’s daughter.
The mother answered in the affirmative; and, in the same breath,
offered to sell her. This was the original negro nature. Just then the
bell stopped, and her education made itself apparent. “Hei-gh!” she
cried, “you no hear bell stop? Me go now. _After church_ we palaver,
give me plenty dash (_i. e._ presents), den we drink rum, den you take
him (_i. e._ the girl); palaver said.”
Superstition, therefore, takes the place of personal religion, and,
in spite of the dread excesses into which it leads the savages, it
does at all events keep before them the idea of a spiritual world, and
impresses upon them the fact that there exist beings higher and greater
than themselves. That their superstitions, debased and gross as they
are, have yet the power of impressing the native mind with a feeling
of veneration, is evident by the extreme unwillingness of these people
to utter the name by which they designate the Great Spirit. Of course
their idea of a God is very imperfect, but still it is sufficient
to impress them with such awe that they can scarcely be induced to
pronounce the sacred name. Only twice did Mr. Reade hear it. Once,
when they were in a dangerous storm, the men threw up their arms, and
ejaculated the holy name as if it were some great charm; and on another
occasion, when a man was asked suddenly what was the native name for
God, he pointed upward, and in a low voice uttered the word “Njambi.”
The ceremonies observed at the time of full moon have been several
times mentioned in the course of the present work. Du Chaillu gives an
account of one of these ceremonies as performed by the Camma, which is
useful in showing the precise object of the ceremony.
One day Quengueza sent word that he was ill, and that the people must
consult Ilogo, the spirit of the moon, and ask him whether he was
bewitched, and how he was to be cured. Accordingly, just before the
full moon, a crowd of women assembled in front of Quengueza’s house,
accompanied by the drums and the usual noisy appurtenances of a negro
festival. They formed themselves into a hollow circle, and sang songs
in honor of Ilogo, clapping their hands in unison with the beating of
the drums.
In the midst of the circle sat a woman steadfastly gazing at the moon,
and waiting for inspiration. Two women tried this post unsuccessfully,
but the third soon began to tremble, her limbs to work convulsively,
then to stiffen, and at last she fell insensible to the ground. Then
arose the chant to Ilogo with redoubled energy, the singers repeating
the same words over and over again for about half an hour, until
the prostrate form of the woman began to show signs of returning
sensibility. On being questioned, she said that she had seen Ilogo, and
that he had told her that the king was not bewitched, but that he could
be healed by a remedy prepared from a certain plant. She looked utterly
prostrated by the inspiration, and not only her hearers, but also
herself, thoroughly believed in the truth of her strange statement.
It will be seen that Quengueza was nearly as superstitious as his
subjects. He never stirred without his favorite fetish, which was
an ugly little wooden image, embellished with a row of four sacred
cowries stuck on its abdomen. These cowries are not indigenous to
Western Africa, and seem to have been brought from the eastern coast
of the continent. Whenever he ate or drank, the fetish always bore him
company, and before eating he saluted it by passing the four sacred
cowries over his lips. Before drinking he always poured a few drops
over the feet of the image by way of a libation.
When travelling, he liked to have with him one of his medicine men,
who could charm away rain by blowing with his magic horn. So sure was
the doctor of his powers, that on one occasion he would not allow the
party to repair a dilapidated hut in which they passed the night. As
it happened, a violent shower of rain fell in the middle of the night,
and drenched the whole party. The doctor, however, was not at all
disconcerted, but said that if he had not blown the horn the rain would
have been much heavier. Still his natural strength of mind sometimes
asserted itself, and on one remarkable occasion, when the small-pox
had destroyed so many people, and the survivors were crying out for
vengeance against the sorcerers who had brought the disease upon them,
Quengueza forbade any more slaughter. The small-pox, he said, was a
wind sent from Njambi (pronounced N’yamyé), who had killed enough
people already.
Like most native chiefs, Quengueza had a pet superstition of his own.
At his own town of Goumbi (or Ngumbi, as it is sometimes spelt),
there was a very convenient and dry path leading from the houses to
the river. Quengueza, however, never would use this path, but always
embarked or landed at an abominable mud bank, over which it was
necessary to run as fast as possible, in order to avoid sinking in the
river. The reason was, that when he came to the throne he had been
told that an enemy had placed an evil spirit in the path, and that
he would die if he went along it. So powerful was this spirit, that
several unavailing attempts had been made to drive it away, and at
last Quengueza was obliged to send for a renowned Bakalai wizard named
Aquilai. This was the same man who was mentioned in page 502 as the
father of the boy who was tried by the ordeal of the hot ring.
“The people gathered in great numbers under the immense _hangar_ or
covered space in which I had been received, and there lit fires, round
which they sat.... About ten o’clock, when it was pitch dark, the
doctor commenced operations by singing some boasting songs recounting
his power over witches. This was the signal for all the people to
gather into their houses, and about their fires under the hangar. Next,
all the fires were carefully extinguished, all the lights put out, and
in about an hour more not a light of any kind was in the whole town
except mine. I gave notice that white men were exempted from the rule
made in such cases, and this was allowed. The most pitchy darkness and
the most complete silence reigned everywhere. No voice could be heard,
even in a whisper, among the several thousand people gathered in the
gloom.
“At last the curious silence was broken by the doctor; who, standing
in the centre of the town, began some loud babbling of which I could
not make out the meaning. From time to time the people answered him in
chorus. This went on for an hour; and was really one of the strangest
scenes I ever took part in.... The hollow voice of the witch-doctor
resounded curiously through the silence, and when the answer of many
mingled voices came through the darkness, it really assumed the air of
a serious, old-fashioned incantation scene.
“At last, just at midnight, I heard the doctor approach. He had bells
girded about him, which he jingled as he walked. He went separately
to every family in the town, and asked if the witch which obstructed
the king’s highway belonged to them. Of course all answered ‘No.’ Then
he began to run up and down the bewitched street, calling out loudly
for the witch to go off. Presently he came back, and announced that
he could no longer see the _aniemba_, and that doubtless she had gone
never to come back. At this all the people rushed out and shouted, ‘Go
away! go away! and never come back to hurt our king.’ Then fires were
lit, and we all sat down to eat. This done, all the fires were again
extinguished, and all the people sang wild songs until four o’clock.
Then the fires were again lit. At sunrise the whole population gathered
to accompany their king down the dreaded street to the water.
“Quengueza, I knew, was brave as a hunter and as a warrior. He was
also intelligent in many things where his people were very stupid. But
the poor old king was now horribly afraid. He was assured that the
witch was gone, but he evidently thought himself walking to almost
certain death. He would have refused to go if it had been possible. He
hesitated, but at last determined to face his fate, and walked manfully
down to the river and back amid the plaudits of his loyal subjects.”
The artist has represented this victory over superstitious fear, on the
508th page.
Throughout the whole of this land are many of these prohibitory
superstitions. When, for example, a woman is about to become a mother,
both she and her husband are prohibited from seeing a gorilla, as all
the natives firmly believe that, in such a case, the expected child
would be a gorilla cub, and not a human baby. Drinking the water of the
Rembo is also prohibited, because the bodies of those who are executed
for witchcraft are chopped up and flung into it, and the natives
imagine that, if they were to drink of the water, they would become
sorcerers against their will. Yet, as if to show the inconsistency of
superstition, there is a rite, which will be presently mentioned, in
which tasting the water is the principal ceremony.
There is a certain island in the Rembo of which the natives have the
greatest dread. It is thickly covered with trees, and the people fully
believe that in the midst of this island there lives a huge crocodile
covered with brass scales. This crocodile is an enchanter, and by his
incantations every one who lands on the island either dies suddenly,
or goes mad and wanders about until he dies. Du Chaillu of course did
land, and traversed the island in different directions. The people were
stupefied with astonishment; but even the fact of his safe return made
no difference in their belief, because he was white, and the great
enchanter had no power over white men.
As to the fetishes, they are innumerable. Weather fetishes are
specially plentiful, but, unlike the charms of Southern Africa, they
are used to keep off the rain, not to produce it. One fetish gave our
traveller a vast amount of trouble. He had purchased, from a petty
chief named Rabolo, a small deserted village, and had built a new
house. The edifice was completed all but the veranda, when the builders
refused to work any longer, as they had come upon a great health fetish
that Rabolo had placed there when the village was first built. They
flatly refused to touch it until Rabolo came, and, even after his
permission had been gained, they were very nervous about the seeming
desecration.
The fetish was a good example of such articles. Buried in the sands
were two skulls, one of a man and another of a chimpanzee, this
combination having a high reputation among the Camma. These were
buried at the foot of the two posts that constituted the entrance to
the village. Then came a quantity of crockery and broken glass, and
then some more chimpanzee skulls, while a couple of wooden idols kept
company with the component parts of the charm. A sacred creeper was
also planted by the posts, which it had covered with its branches,
and the natives believe that as long as the creeper survives, so long
does the fetish retain its power. Rabolo was very proud of his health
fetish, as no one had died in the village since it had been set up.
But, as there had never been more than fifteen inhabitants, the low
death-rate is easily accounted for.
From their own accounts, the Camma must have a very unpleasant country.
It is overrun with spirits, but the evil far outnumber the good, and,
according to the usual custom of ignorant nations, the Camma pay their
chief reverence to the former, because they can do the most harm.
As specimens of these spirits, three will be mentioned. The first is a
good spirit called Mbuiri, who traverses the country, and occasionally
pays a visit to the villages. He has taken under his protection the
town of Aniambia, which also has the privilege of being guarded by an
evil spirit of equal power, so that the inhabitants enjoy a peace of
mind not often to be found in the Camma country. There is only one
drawback to the repose of the place, and that is the spirit of an
insane woman, who made her habitation outside the village when she
was alive, and continues to cultivate her plantation, though she is a
spirit. She retains her dislike to human beings, and, if she can catch
a man alone, she seizes him, and beats him to death.
The evil spirit which protects Aniambia is a very wicked and
mischievous being named Abambou, who lives chiefly in burial-places,
and makes his bed of skeletons. In order to propitiate Abambou,
offerings are made to him daily, consisting entirely of food. Sometimes
the Camma cook the food, and lay it in lonely places in the wood, where
Abambou would be sure to find it; and sometimes they propitiate him by
offerings of plantains, sugar-cane, and nuts. A prayer accompanies the
offering, and is generally couched in the universal form of asking the
protecting spirit to help the Camma and destroy inimical tribes. It is
rather curious that, when a free man makes an offering to Abambou, he
wraps it in leaves; but the slaves are obliged to lay it on the bare
ground.
Fetish houses are appropriated to Mbuiri and Abambou, and are placed
close to each other. They are little huts, about six feet high and six
wide. No image is placed in the huts, but only a fire, which is always
kept burning, and a chest, on the top of which are laid some sacred
chalk and red parrot’s feathers.
A bed is usually prepared in Abambou’s house, on which he may repose
when he is tired of walking up and down the country; and, as the
medicine-man takes care that no one but himself shall open the door
of the hut, the villagers pass by in awe-struck silence, none knowing
whether at that moment the dreadful Abambou may not be sleeping
within. Now and then he is addressed publicly, the gist of the speeches
being that everybody is quite well and perfectly happy, and hopes that
he will not hurt them.
The evil spirit, however, who is most feared by this tribe is the
Ovengua or Vampire. It is most surprising to find the Hungarian and
Servian superstition about the vampire existing among the savages of
Western Africa, and yet it flourishes in all its details along the
banks of the Rembo.
No worship is paid to the Ovengua, who is not thought to have any power
over diseases, nor to exercise any influence upon the tenor of a man’s
life. He is simply a destructive demon, capricious and cruel, murdering
without reason, and wandering ceaselessly through the forests in search
of victims. By day he hides in dark caverns, so that travellers need
not fear him, but at night he comes out, takes a human form, and beats
to death all whom he meets. Sometimes when an Ovengua comes across a
body of armed men, they resist him, and kill the body in which he has
taken up his residence.
When an Ovengua has been thus killed, the conquerors make a fire and
burn the body, taking particular care that not a bone shall be left, as
from the bones new Ovenguas are made. The natives have a curious idea
that, if a person dies from witchcraft, the body decays until the bones
are free from flesh. As soon as this is the case, they leave the grave
one by one, form themselves end to end into a single line, and then
gradually resolve themselves into a new Ovengua. Several places are
especially dreaded as being favorite resorts of this horrible demon,
and neither bribes, threats, nor persuasions, can induce a Camma to
venture near them after nightfall. It is very probable that cunning and
revengeful men may take advantage of the belief in the vampire, and,
when they have conceived an antipathy against any one, may waylay and
murder him treacherously, and then contrive to throw the blame on the
Ovengua.
The prevalence of this superstition may perhaps account for much of
the cruelty exercised upon those who are suspected of witchcraft, the
fear of sorcery being so overwhelming as to overcome all feelings of
humanity, and even to harden the heart of the parent against the child.
The slightest appearance of disbelief in such an accusation would at
once induce the terrified multitude to include both parties in the
accusation, and the consequence is that, when any one is suspected of
witchcraft, none are so loud and virulent in their execrations as those
who ought to be the natural protectors of the accused.
Mr. C. Reade, in his “Savage Africa,” gives an example of the cruelty
which is inspired by terror.
A petty chief had been ill for some time, and a woman had been
convicted, by her own confession, of having bewitched him. It is true
that the confession had been extorted by flogging, but this fact
made no difference in the minds of the natives, who had also forced
her to accuse her son, a boy only seven years old, of having been
an accomplice in the crime. This was done lest he should grow up to
manhood, and then avenge his mother’s death upon her murderers.
“On the ground in their midst crouched the child, the mark of a severe
wound visible on his arm, and his wrists bound together by a piece of
withy. I shall never forget that child’s face. It wore that expression
of dogged endurance which is one of the traditional characteristics of
the savage. While I was there, one of the men held an axe before his
eyes--it was the brute’s idea of humor. The child looked at it without
showing a spark of emotion. Some, equally fearless of death, would have
displayed contempt, anger, or acted curiosity; but he was the perfect
stoic. His eye flashed for a moment when his name was first mentioned,
but only for a moment. He showed the same indifference when he heard
his life being pleaded for, as when, a little while before, he had been
taunted with his death.”
Both were killed. The mother was sent to sea in a canoe, killed with an
axe, and then thrown overboard. The unfortunate boy was burnt alive,
and bags of gunpowder were tied to his legs, which, according to the
account of a spectator, “made him jump like a dog.” On being asked why
so cruel a death had been inflicted on the poor boy, while the mother
was subjected to the comparatively painless death by the axe, the man
was quite astounded that any one should draw so subtle a distinction.
Death was death in his opinion, however inflicted, and, as the writhing
of the tortured child amused the spectators, he could not see why they
should deprive themselves of the gratification.
“This explains well enough the cruelty of the negro: it is the cruelty
of the boy who spins a cockchafer on a pin; it is the cruelty of
ignorance. A twirling cockchafer and a boy who jumps like a dog are
ludicrous sights to those who do not possess the sense of sympathy. How
useless is it to address such people as these with the logic of reason,
religion, and humanity! Such superstitions can only be quelled by laws
as ruthless as themselves.”
Another curious example of this lack of feeling is given by the same
author. Sometimes a son, who really loves his mother after his own
fashion, thinks that she is getting very old, and becoming more infirm
and unable to help him. So he kills her, under the idea that she will
be more useful to him as a spirit than in bodily form, and, before
dismissing her into the next world, charges her with messages to his
friends and relatives who have died. The Camma do not think that when
they die they are cut off, even from tangible communication with their
friends. “The people who are dead,” said one of the men, “when they are
tired of staying in the bush (_i. e._ the burying-ground), then they
come for one of their people whom they like. And one ghost will say, ‘I
am tired of staying in the bush; please to build a little house for me
in the town close to your house.’ He tells the man to dance and sing
too; so the men call plenty of women by night to dance and sing.”
In accordance with his request, the people build a miniature hut for
the unquiet spirit, then go to the grave and make an idol. They then
take the bamboo frame on which the body was carried into the bush, and
which is always left on the spot, place on it some dust from the grave,
and carry it into the hut, the door of which is closed by a white cloth.
Among the Camma, as with many savage tribes, there is a ceremony of
initiation into certain mysteries, through which all have to pass
before they can be acknowledged as men and women. These ceremonies are
kept profoundly secret from the uninitiated, but Mr. Reade contrived to
gain from one of his men some information on the subject.
On the introduction of a novice, he is taken in a fetish house,
stripped, severely flogged, and then plastered with goat’s dung, the
ceremony being accompanied by music. Then he is taken to a screen,
from behind which issues a strange and uncouth sound, supposed to be
produced by a spirit named Ukuk. There seems, however, to be a tacit
understanding that the spirit is only supposed to be present in a
vicarious sense, as the black informant not only said that the noise
was made by the fetish man, but showed the instrument with which he
produced it. It was a kind of whistle, made of hollowed mangrove wood,
and closed at one end by a piece of bat’s wing.
During five days after initiation an apron is worn, made of dry palm
leaves. These ceremonies are not restricted to certain times of the
year, but seem to be held whenever a few candidates are ready for
initiation. Mr. Reade had several times seen lads wearing the mystic
apron, but had not known its signification until Mongilomba betrayed
the secrets of the lodge. The same man also gave some information
regarding the initiation of the females. He was, however, very reticent
on the subject, partly, perhaps, because the women kept their secret
close, and partly because he was afraid lest they might hear that he
had acted the spy upon them, and avenge their insulted rites by mobbing
and beating him.
Some of the ceremonies are not concealed very carefully, being
performed in the open air. The music is taken in hand by elderly women,
called Ngembi, who commence operations by going into the forest and
clearing a space. They then return to the village, and build a sacred
hut, into which no male is allowed to enter. The novice, or Igonji, is
now led to the cleared space--which, by the way, must be a spot which
she has never before visited--and there takes her place by a fire which
is carefully watched by the presiding Ngembi, and never suffered to go
out. For two days and nights a Ngembi sits beside the fire, feeding it
with sticks, and continually chanting, “The fire will never die out.”
On the third day the novice is rubbed with black, white, and red chalk,
and is taken into the sacred hut, where certain unknown ceremonies are
performed, the men surrounding it and beating drums, while the novice
within continually responds to them by the cry, “Okanda! yo! yo! yo!”
which, as Mr. Reade observes, reminds one of the “Evoe!” of the ancient
Bacchantes.
The spirit Ukuk only comes to light on such occasions. At other times
he lives deep below the surface of the earth in his dark cavern, which
is imitated as well as may be by the sacred hut, that is thickly
covered with leaves, so that not a ray of light may enter. When he
enters the hut, he blows the magic whistle, and on hearing the sound
all the initiated repair to the house. As these spirits are so much
feared, it is natural that the natives should try to drive them out of
every place where they have taken up an unwelcome residence.
With some spirits the favorite spot is the body of a man, who is
thereby made ill, and who will die if the spirit be not driven out
of him. Now the Camma believe that evil spirits cannot bear noise,
especially the beating of drums, and so, at the call of the fetish
man, they assemble round the sick man, beat drums and kettles close
to his head, sing, dance, and shout with all their might. This hubbub
goes on until either the patient dies, as might naturally be expected,
or manages to recover in spite of the noise. The people who assist
in the operation do so with the greatest vigor, for, by some strange
coincidence, it happens that the very things which disgust an evil
spirit, such as dancing, singing, drum-beating, and noise-making in
general, are just the things which please them best, and so their
duties and inclinations are happily found to coincide.
Sometimes the demon takes up his residence in a village, and then there
is a vast to-do before he can be induced to go out. A fetish man is
brought from a distance--the farther the better--and immediately set to
work. His first business is to paint and adorn himself, which he does
in such a manner as to look as demoniacal as possible. One of these
men, named Damagondai, seen by Du Chaillu, had made himself a horrible
object. The artist has pictured the weird-looking creature on the 517th
page. His face was whitened with chalk, a red circle was drawn on each
side of his mouth, a band of the same color surrounded each eye, and
another ran from the forehead to the tip of the nose. A white band was
drawn from the shoulders to the wrists, and one hand was completely
whitened. On his head was a tall plume of black feathers; strips of
leopard skin and a variety of charms were hung upon his body; and to
his neck was suspended a little box, in which he kept a number of
familiar spirits. A string of little bells encircled his waist.
This ghastly figure had seated himself on a stool before another box
full of charms, and on the box stood a magic mirror. Had the magician
been brought from the inland parts of the country, and away from the
river along which all traffic runs, he could not have possessed such an
article as a mirror, and would have used instead a bowl of water. By
the mirror lay the sacred horn full of the fetish powder, accompanied
by a rattle containing snake bones. His assistant stood near him,
belaboring a board with two sticks.
After the incantations had been continued for some time, the wizard
ordered that the names of all the inhabitants of the village should
be called out, and as each name was shouted he looked in the mirror.
However, he decided at last that the evil spirit did not live in any of
the inhabitants, but had taken up his residence in the village, which
he wanted for himself, and that he would be very angry if any one tried
to share it with him.
Du Chaillu saw that this was a sly attack on him, as he had just built
some comfortable houses in the village. Next morning the people began
to evacuate the place. They carried off their property, and tore
down the houses, and by nightfall not an inhabitant was left in the
village except the white man and two of his attendants, both of whom
were in great terror, and wanted to follow the others. Even the chief
was obliged to go, and, with many apologies to his guest, built a new
house outside the deserted village. Not wishing to give up the houses
that had cost so much time and trouble, Du Chaillu tried to induce the
natives to rebuild the huts; but not even tobacco could overcome their
fear of the evil spirit. However, at last some of the bolder men tried
the experiment, and by degrees a new village arose in the place of that
which had been destroyed.
The same magician who conducted the above-mentioned ceremony was an
unmitigated cheat, and seems to have succeeded in cheating himself
as well as his countrymen. He was absurdly afraid of darkness, and
as nightfall came on he always began to be frightened, wailing and
execrating all sorcerers, witches, and evil spirits, lamenting because
he knew that some one was trying to bewitch him, and at last working
himself up to such a pitch of excitement that the inhabitants of the
village had to turn out of their huts, and begin dancing and singing.
Perhaps this self-deception was involuntary, but Damagondai wilfully
cheated the people for his own purposes. In his double capacity as
chief and fetish man he had the charge of the village idols. He had
a very potent idol of his own, with copper eyes and a sword-shaped
protruding tongue. With the eyes she saw coming events, and with
the tongue she foretold the future and cut to pieces the enemies of
Damagondai’s people. M. du Chaillu wanted to purchase this idol, but
her owner refused to sell her. He hinted, however, that for a good
price the goddess of the slaves might be bought. Accordingly, a bargain
was struck, the idol in question was removed from the hut, packed up,
and carried away by the purchaser, while the slaves were away at their
work. Damagondai was rather perplexed as to the answer which he would
have to give the slaves when they came home and found their idol house
empty, but at last he decided to tell them that he had seen the goddess
leave her house, and walk away into the woods. The idol in question was
an absurd-looking object, something like a compromise between one of
the figures out of a “Noah’s Ark” and a Dutch wooden doll.
Various as are all these superstitions, there is one point at which
they all converge, namely, the dread Mboundou ordeal, by which all who
are accused of witchcraft are tested. The mboundou is a tree belonging
to the same group as that from which strychnine is made, and is allied
to the scarcely less celebrated “vine” from which the Macoushie Indians
prepare the wourali poison. From the root of the mboundou a drink is
prepared, which has an intoxicating as well as a poisonous quality, and
which is used for two purposes, the one being as an ordeal, and the
other as a means of divination.
The medicine men derive most of their importance from their capability
of drinking the mboundou without injury to their health; and while in
the intoxicated state they utter sentences more or less incoherent,
which are taken as revelations from the particular spirit who is
consulted. The mode of preparing the poisoned draught is as follows:--A
given quantity of the root is scraped and put into a bowl, together
with a pint of water. In a minute or so a slight fermentation takes
place, and the water is filled with little bubbles, like those of
champagne or other sparkling wines. When this has subsided, the water
becomes of a pale reddish tint, and the preparation is complete. Its
taste is very bitter.
The effects of the mboundou vary greatly in different individuals.
There was a hardened old sorcerer, named Olanga, who was greatly
respected among his people for his capability of drinking mboundou
in large quantities, and without any permanent effect. It is very
probable that he may have had some antidote, and prepared himself
beforehand, or that his constitution was exceptionally strong, and
that he could take with impunity a dose which would kill a weaker man.
Olanga was constantly drinking mboundou, using it chiefly as a means
of divination. If, for example, a man fell ill, his friends went off
to Olanga, and asked him to drink mboundou and find out whether the
man had been bewitched. The illustration No. 2, on the next page,
represents such a scene. As soon as he had drunk the poison, the men
sat round him, beating the ground with their sticks, and crying out the
formula--
“If he is a witch, let the mboundou kill him.
“If he is not, let the mboundou go out.”
In about five minutes symptoms of intoxication showed themselves.
The old man began to stagger, his speech grew thick, his eyes became
bloodshot, his limbs shook convulsively, and he began to talk
incoherently. Now was the time to ask him questions, and accordingly
several queries were propounded, some of which he answered: but he soon
became too much intoxicated to understand, much less to answer, the
questions that were put to him. Sleep then came on, and in less than
half an hour Olanga began to recover.
With most persons, however, it has a different and a deadly effect, and
M. du Chaillu mentions that he has seen persons fall dead within five
minutes of drinking the mboundou, the blood gushing from the mouth,
eyes, and nose.
It is very seldom that any one but a professional medicine man escapes
with life after drinking mboundou. Mostly there is an absence of the
peculiar symptoms which show that the poison is working itself out
of the system, and in such a case the spectators hasten the work of
death by their knives. Sometimes the drinkers rally from the effects
of the poison, but with constitutions permanently injured; and in a
few cases they escape altogether. Du Chaillu was a witness to such an
event. Three young men, who were accused of witchcraft, were adjudged,
as usual, to drink the mboundou. They drank it, and boldly stood their
ground, surrounded by a yelling multitude, armed with axes, spears,
and knives, ready to fall upon the unfortunate victims if they showed
symptoms that the draught would be fatal. However, they succeeded in
keeping their feet until the effects of the poison had passed off,
and were accordingly pronounced innocent. According to custom, the
medicine man who prepared the draught finished the ceremony by taking a
bowl himself, and while in the stage of intoxication he gladdened the
hearts of the people by saying that the wizards did not belong to their
village, but came from a distance.
It is evident that those who prepare the mboundou can make the draught
stronger or weaker, according to their own caprice, and indeed it is
said that, when any one who is personally disliked has to drink the
poison, it always proves fatal. The accused persons are not allowed
to see that it is prepared fairly, but they are permitted to send two
friends for that purpose.
A most terrible scene was once witnessed by Du Chaillu. A chief named
Mpomo had died, and the people were in a state of frenzy about it. They
could not believe that a young and strong man could be seized with
illness and die unless he were bewitched, and accordingly a powerful
doctor was brought from a distance, and set to work. For two days the
doctor went through a number of ceremonies, like those which have been
described at page 515, for the purpose of driving out the evil spirits,
and at last he announced that he was about to name the wizards. The
rest must be told in the narrator’s own words:--
“At last, on the third morning, when the excitement of the people was
at its height--when old and young, male and female, were frantic with
the desire for revenge on the sorcerers--the doctor assembled them
about him in the centre of the town, and began his final incantation,
which should disclose the names of the murderous sorcerers.
“Every man and boy was armed,--some with spears, some with swords,
some with guns and axes; and on every face was shown a determination
to wreak bloody revenge on those who should be pointed out as the
criminals. The whole town was wrapped in an indescribable fury and
horrid thirst for human blood. For the first time, I found my voice
without authority in Goumbi. I did not even get a hearing. What I said
was passed by as though no one had spoken. As a last threat, when I
saw proceedings begun, I said I would make Quengueza punish them for
the murders they had done in his absence. But, alas! here they had
outwitted me. On the day of Mpomos death they had sent secretly to
Quengueza to ask if they could kill the witches. He, poor man--sick
himself, and always afraid of the power of sorcerers, and without me to
advise him--at once sent word back to kill them all without mercy. So
they almost laughed in my face.
[Illustration: (1.) EJECTING A DEMON. (See page 515.)]
[Illustration: (2.) OLANGA DRINKING MBOUNDOU. (See page 516.)]
“Finding all my endeavors vain, and that the work of bloodshed was to
be carried through to its dreadful end, I determined, at least, to
see how all was conducted. At a motion from the doctor, the people
became at once quite still. This sudden silence lasted about a minute,
when the loud, harsh voice of the doctor was heard: ‘There is a very
black woman, who lives in a house’--describing it fully, with its
location--‘she bewitched Mpomo.’ Scarce had he ended when the crowd,
roaring and screaming like so many hideous beasts, rushed frantically
for the place indicated. They seized upon a poor girl named Okandaga,
the sister of my good friend and guide Adouma. Waving their weapons
over her head, they bore her away toward the water-side. Here she was
quickly bound with cords, and then all rushed away to the doctor again.
“As poor Okandaga passed in the hands of her murderers, she saw me,
though I thought I had concealed myself from view. I turned my head
away, and prayed she might not see me. I could not help her. But
presently I heard her cry out, ‘Chally, Chally, do not let me die!’
“It was a moment of terrible agony to me. For a minute I was minded
to rush into the crowd, and attempt to rescue the poor victim. But it
would have been of not the slightest use; the people were too frantic
and crazed to even notice my presence. I should only have sacrificed my
own life, without helping her. So I turned away into a corner behind
a tree, and--I may confess, I trust--shed bitter tears at my utter
powerlessness.
“Presently, silence again fell upon the crowd. Then the harsh voice of
the devilish doctor again rang over the town. It seemed to me like the
hoarse croak of some death-foretelling raven. ‘There is an old woman in
a house’--describing it--‘she also bewitched Mpomo.’
“Again the crowd rushed off. This time they seized a niece of King
Quengueza, a noble-hearted and rather majestic old woman. As they
crowded about her with flaming eyes and threats of death, she rose
proudly from the ground, looked them in the face unflinchingly, and,
motioning them to keep their hands off, said, ‘I will drink the
mboundou; but woe to my accusers if I do not die.’ Then she, too, was
escorted to the river, but without being bound. She submitted to all
without a tear, or a murmur for mercy.
“Again, a third time, the dreadful silence fell upon the town, and the
doctor’s voice was heard: ‘There is a woman with six children. She
lives on a plantation toward the rising sun. She too bewitched Mpomo.’
Again there was a furious shout, and in a few minutes they brought to
the river one of Quengueza’s slave-women--a good and much-respected
woman--whom also I knew.
“The doctor now approached with the crowd. In a loud voice he recited
the crime of which these women were accused. The first taken,
Okandaga, had--so he said--some weeks before asked Mpomo for some salt,
he being her relative. Salt was scarce, and he had refused her. She had
said unpleasant words to him then, and had by sorcery taken his life.
“Then Quengueza’s niece was accused. She was barren, and Mpomo had
children. She envied him. Therefore she had bewitched him.
“Quengueza’s slave had asked Mpomo for a looking-glass. He had refused
her. Therefore she had killed him with sorcery.
“As each accusation was recited the people broke out into curses. Even
the relatives of the poor victims were obliged to join in this. Every
one rivalled his neighbor in cursing, each fearful lest lukewarmness in
the ceremony should expose him to a like fate.
“Next the victims were put into a large canoe, with the executioners,
the doctor, and a number of other people all armed. Then the tam-tams
were beaten, and the proper persons prepared the mboundou. Quabi,
Mpomo’s eldest brother, held the poisoned cup. At sight of it poor
Okandaga began again to cry, and even Quengueza’s niece turned pale in
the face--for even the negro face has at such times a pallor, which is
quite perceptible. Three other canoes now surrounded that in which the
victims were. All were crowded with armed men. Then the mug of mboundou
was handed to the old slave-woman, next to the royal niece, and last to
Okandaga. As they drank, the multitude shouted: ‘If they are witches,
let the mboundou kill them; if they are innocent, let the mboundou go
out.’
“It was the most exciting scene of my life. Though horror almost froze
my blood, my eyes were riveted upon the spectacle. A dead silence now
occurred. Suddenly the slave fell down. She had not touched the boat’s
bottom ere her head was hacked off by a dozen rude swords.
“Next came Quengueza’s niece. In an instant her head was off, and
the blood was dyeing the waters of the river. Meantime poor Okandaga
staggered, and struggled, and cried, vainly resisting the working of
the poison in her system. Last of all she fell too, and in an instant
her head was hewn off. Then all became confused. An almost random
hacking ensued, and in an incredibly short space of time the bodies
were cut in small pieces, which were cast into the river.
“When this was done, the crowd dispersed to their houses, and for the
rest of the day the town was very silent. Some of these rude people
felt that their number, in their already almost extinguished tribe,
was becoming less, and the dread of death filled their hearts. In
the evening poor Adouma came secretly to my house, to unburden his
sorrowing heart to me. He, too, had been compelled to take part in the
dreadful scene. He dared not even refrain from joining in the curses
heaped upon his poor sister. He dared not mourn publicly for her who
was considered so great a criminal.”
The ceremonies which attend the death of members of the Camma tribe are
really remarkable. As soon as the end of a man is evidently near, his
relations begin to mourn for him, and his head wife, throwing herself
on the bed, and encircling the form of her dying husband with her
arms, pours out her wailing lamentations, accompanied by the tears and
cries of the villagers who assemble round the house. The other wives
take their turns in leading the lamentations, and after his death they
bewail him in the most pitiful fashion. These pitiful lamentations are
partly owing to real sorrow, but there is no doubt that they are also
due to the fear lest any one who did not join in the mourning might be
accused of having bewitched her husband to death.
For several days they sit on the ground, covered with ashes, their
heads shaved, and their clothing torn to rags; and when the body can
no longer be kept in the place, the relatives take it to the cemetery,
which is usually at some distance down the river. That, for example, of
Goumbi was situated at nearly fifty miles from the place. No grave is
dug, but the body is laid on the ground, and surrounded with different
valuables which belonged to the dead man in his lifetime. The corpses
of the chiefs or headmen are placed in rude boxes, but those of
ordinary men are not defended in any way whatever.
For at least a year the mourning continues, and, if the dead man has
held high rank, it is sometimes continued for two years, during which
time the whole tribe wear their worst clothes, and make a point of
being very dirty, while the widows retain the shaven head and ashes,
and remain in perfect seclusion. At the end of the appointed time,
a ceremony called Bola-ivoga is performed, by which the mourning is
broken up and the people return to their usual dress.
One of these ceremonies was seen by Du Chaillu. The deceased had been a
tolerably rich man, leaving seven wives, a house, a plantation, slaves,
and other property, all which was inherited, according to custom, by
his elder brother, on whom devolves the task of giving the feast. Great
preparations were made for some days previously, large quantities of
palm wine being brought to the village, several canoe loads of dried
fish prepared, all the best clothes in the village made ready, and
every drum, kettle, and anything that could make a noise when beaten
being mustered.
On the joyful morning, the widows begin the ceremony by eating a magic
porridge, composed by the medicine man, and are then released formally
from their widowhood. They then throw off their torn and soiled
garments, wash away the ashes with which their bodies had been so long
covered, and robe themselves in their best clothes, covering their
wrists and ankles with iron and copper jewelry.
While they are adorning their persons, the rest of the people arrange
themselves in little groups in front of the houses, and to each group
is given an enormous jar of palm wine. At a given signal the drinking
begins, and is continued without interruption for some twenty-four
hours, during which time dancing, singing, and drum-beating are carried
on with furious energy. Next morning comes the final ceremony. A large
crowd of men, armed with axes, surround the house formerly occupied by
the deceased, and, at a signal from the heir, they rush at once at it,
and in a few minutes nothing is left but a heap of fragments. These are
heaped up and burned; and when the flames die away, the ceremony is
over, and the heir is considered as having entered into possession of
the property.
There are one or two miscellaneous customs of the Camma people which
are deserving of a brief notice. They seem to be rather quarrelsome
among themselves, and when they get into a fight use a most formidable
club. This weapon is made of heavy and hard wood, and is nearly seven
feet long. The thick end is deeply notched, and a blow from the
“tongo,” as it is called, would smash the skull of an European. The
native African, however, sustains heavy blows without being much the
worse for it; and, although every tongo will be covered with blood and
woolly hair, the combatants do not seem to have sustained much injury.
As they fight, they heap on their adversaries every insulting epithet
they can think of: “Your chief has the leg of an elephant,” cries one;
“Ho! his eldest brother has the neck of a wild ox,” shouts a second;
“Ho! you have no food in your village,” bawls a third; and, according
to the narrator, the words really seem to do more damage than the blows.
When a canoe starts on a long journey, a curious ceremony is enacted.
Each man dips his paddle in the water, slaps it on the surface, raises
in the air, and allows one drop of the water to fall into his mouth.
After a good deal of singing, shouting, and antic-playing, they settle
down to their work, and paddle on steadily for hours. When a chief
parts from a guest, he takes his friend’s hands within his own, blows
into them, and solemnly invokes the spirits of his ancestors, calling
on them to take care of the departing guest.
CHAPTER L.
THE SHEKIANI AND MPONGWÉ.
LOCALITY OF THE SHEKIANI -- MODE OF GOVERNMENT -- SKILL IN HUNTING
-- SHEKIANI ARCHITECTURE -- MEDICAL TREATMENT -- NATIVE SORCERERS
-- FATE OF THE WIZARD -- A VICTIM TO SUPERSTITION -- TREATMENT OF
THE POSSESSED -- LOCALITY OF THE MPONGWÉ -- NATIVE FASHIONS --
MPONGWÉ MOURNING -- SKILL IN LANGUAGES -- THE SUCCESSFUL TRADER AND
HIS RELATIONS -- DEATH OF THE MONARCH AND ELECTION OF A NEW KING
-- A MPONGWÉ CORONATION -- OLD KING GLASS AND HIS CHARACTER -- HIS
SICKNESS, DEATH, BURIAL, AND SUCCESSOR.
Scattered over a considerable track of country between the Muni and
Gaboon rivers, on the western coast of Africa, are numerous villages of
the Shekiani or Chekiani tribe. The Shekiani are divided into numerous
sub-tribes, which speak a common language, but call themselves by
various names, such as the Mbondemo, the Mbousha, the Mbicho, &c. Each
of these lesser tribes is again subdivided into clans or families, each
of which has its own head.
The mode of government is very simple, and indeed scarcely deserves
the name; for although the chiefs of the different tribes are often
called kings, their titles are but empty honors, and their authority
is but partially recognized even by the headmen of the clans. The
kings, indeed, are scarcely distinguishable from their so called
subjects, their houses being the same, and their mode of living but
little superior. Still, they are respected as advisers; and, in cases
of difficulty, a few words from one of these kings will often settle a
dispute which threatens to be dangerous.
Owing to their proximity to the coast, the Shekiani are great traders,
and, in consequence of their contact with the white man, present a
most curious mixture of savageness and civilization, the latter being
modified in various droll ways. Take, for example, the Shekiani mode
of managing fire-arms. When they go to hunt the elephant for the sake
of its tusks, they always arm themselves with trade guns, for which
they pay seven shillings and sixpence. The quality of these weapons
may be easily imagined, and it is really wonderful how the Birmingham
manufacturer contrives to furnish for so small a sum a gun that
deserves the name.
Of course it is made to suit native ideas, and consequently it is
very large and very heavy, a negro contemptuously rejecting a small
and light gun which might be worth thirty or forty pounds. Then the
mainspring of the lock is of prodigious strength, and the hammer and
pan of proportionate size. Inferior, of course, as is the material,
the weapon is really a wonderful article; and, if properly handled,
is capable of doing good service. But a negro never handles anything
carefully. When he cocks his musket, he wrenches back the hammer with a
jerk that would break a delicate lock; when he wants to carry home the
game that he has killed, he hangs it to the muzzle of the piece, and so
slings it over his shoulder, and, as he travels, he allows it to bang
against the trees, without the least care for the straightness of the
barrel.
But it is in loading the weapon that he most distinguishes himself.
First he pours down the barrel a quantity of powder at random, and rams
upon it a tuft of dry grass. Upon the grass come some bullets or bits
of iron, and then more grass. Then come more powder, grass, and iron
as before; and not until then does the negro flatter himself that he
has loaded his musket. That a gun should burst after such a method of
loading is not surprising, and indeed it is a wonder that it can be
fired at all without flying to pieces. But the negro insists on having
a big gun, with plenty of powder and shot, and he cares nothing for a
weapon unless it goes off with a report like a small cannon, and has a
recoil that almost dislocates the shoulder.
The Shekiani are of moderate size, not very dark-colored, and in
character are apt to be quarrelsome, passionate, revengeful, and
utterly careless of inflicting death or pain. Owing to their unsettled
habits, they are but poor agriculturists, leaving all the culture of
the ground to the women. Their mode of making a plantation is very
simple. When they have fixed upon a suitable spot, they begin to clear
it after a very primitive fashion. The men ascend the trees to some
ten or twelve feet of height, just where the stem narrows, supporting
themselves by a flexible vine branch twisted hoop-fashion round the
tree and their waist. They then chop away at the timber, and slip
nimbly to the ground just as the upper part of the tree is falling. The
trunks and branches are then gathered together until the dry season
is just over, when the whole mass is lighted, and on the ground thus
cleared of trees and brushwood the women plant their manioc, plantains,
and maize.
Their villages are built on one model. The houses are about twelve or
fifteen feet in length by eight or ten wide, and are set end to end in
a double row, so as to form a long street. The houses have no windows,
and only one door, which opens into the street. At night the open ends
of the street are barricaded, and it will be seen that each village
thus becomes a fortress almost impregnable to the assaults of native
warriors. In order to add to the strength of their position, they make
their villages on the crests of hills, and contrive, if possible,
to build them in the midst of thorn brakes, so that, if they were
attacked, the enemy would be exposed to their missiles while engaged
in forcing their way through the thorns. When such a natural defence
cannot be obtained, they content themselves with blocking up the
approaches with cut thorn branches.
The houses are made of the so called bamboo poles, which are stuck in
the ground, and lashed to each other with vine ropes. The interior
is divided at least into two apartments, one of which is the eating
and the other the sleeping chamber. Each Shekiani wife has a separate
apartment, with its own door, so that the number of wives may be known
by the number of doors opening out of the sitting-room. Although their
houses are made with some care, the Shekiani are continually deserting
their villages on some absurd pretext, usually of a superstitious
character, and, during their travels toward another site, they make
temporary encampments in the woods, their rude huts being composed of
four sticks planted in the ground, tied together at the top, and then
covered with leaves.
It has been mentioned that the Shekiani are careless about inflicting
torture. One day M. du Chaillu was staying with one of the so-called
Shekiani “kings,” named Njambai; he heard terrible shrieks, and was
coolly told that the king was only punishing one of his wives. He ran
to the spot, and there found a woman tied by her waist to a stout
stake, and her feet to smaller stakes. Cords were tied round her neck,
waist, wrists, and ankles, and were being slowly twisted with sticks,
cutting into the flesh, and inflicting the most horrible torture. The
king was rather sulky at being interrupted in his amusement, but, when
his guest threatened instant departure unless the woman were released,
he made a present of the victim to her intercessor. The cords had been
so tightly knotted and twisted that they could not be untied, and, when
they were cut, were found to have been forced deeply into the flesh.
The same traveller gives an account of the cruel manner in which the
Shekiani treated an unfortunate man who had been accused of witchcraft.
He was an old man belonging to the Mbousha sub-tribe, and was supposed
to have bewitched a man who had lately died.
“I heard one day, by accident, that a man had been apprehended on a
charge of causing the death of one of the chief men of the village. I
went to Dayoko, and asked him about it. He said yes, the man was to be
killed; that he was a notorious wizard, and had done much harm. So I
begged to see this terrible being. I was taken to a rough hut, within
which sat an old, old man, with wool white as snow, wrinkled face,
bowed form, and shrunken limbs. His hands were tied behind him, and his
feet were placed in a rude kind of stocks. This was the great wizard.
Several lazy negroes stood guard over him, and from time to time
insulted him with opprobrious epithets and blows, to which the poor old
wretch submitted in silence. He was evidently in his dotage.
“I asked him if he had no friends, no relations, no son, or daughter,
or wife to take care of him. He said sadly, ‘No one.’
“Now here was the secret of his persecution. They were tired of taking
care of the helpless old man, who had lived too long, and a charge of
witchcraft by the gree-gree man was a convenient pretext for putting
him out of the way. I saw at once that it would be vain to strive to
save him. I went, however, to Dayoko, and argued the case with him.
I tried to explain the absurdity of charging a harmless old man with
supernatural powers; told him that God did not permit witches to exist;
and finally made an offer to buy the old wretch, offering to give
some pounds of tobacco, one or two coats, and some looking glasses for
him--goods which would have bought me an able-bodied slave.
“Dayoko replied that for his part he would be glad to save him, but
that the people must decide; that they were much excited against him;
but that he would, to please me, try to save his life. During all the
night following I heard singing all over the town, and a great uproar.
Evidently they were preparing themselves for the murder. Even these
savages cannot kill in cold blood, but work themselves into a frenzy of
excitement first, and then rush off to do the bloody deed.
“Early in the morning the people gathered together, with the fetish
man--the infernal rascal who was at the bottom of the murder--in their
midst. His bloodshot eyes glared in savage excitement as he went around
from man to man, getting the votes to decide whether the old man should
die. In his hands he held a bundle of herbs, with which he sprinkled
three times those to whom he spoke. Meantime a man was stationed on
the top of a high tree, whence he shouted from time to time in a loud
voice, ‘_Jocoo! Jocoo!_’ at the same time shaking the tree violently.
‘_Jocoo_’ is _devil_ among the Mbousha, and the business of this man
was to drive away the evil spirit, and to give notice to the fetish man
of his approach.
“At last the sad vote was taken. It was declared that the old man
was a most malignant wizard; that he had already killed a number of
people; that he was minded to kill many more; and that he must die.
No one would tell me how he was to be killed, and they proposed to
defer the execution till my departure, which I was, to tell the truth,
rather glad of. The whole scene had considerably agitated me, and I
was willing to be spared the end. Tired, and sick at heart, I lay down
on my bed about noon to rest, and compose my spirits a little. After a
while, I saw a man pass my window almost like a flash, and after him
a horde of silent but infuriated men. They ran toward the river. In a
little while, I heard a couple of sharp, piercing cries, as of a man in
great agony, and then all was still as death.
“I got up, guessing the rascals had killed the poor old man, and,
turning my steps toward the river, was met by a crowd returning, every
man armed with axe, knife, cutlass, or spear, and these weapons, and
their own hands and arms and bodies, all sprinkled with the blood of
their victim. In their frenzy they had tied the poor wizard to a log
near the river bank, and then deliberately hacked him into many pieces.
See the illustration on the 526th page. They finished by splitting
open his skull, and scattering the brains in the water. Then they
returned; and, to see their behavior, it would have seemed as though
the country had just been delivered from a great curse. By night the
men--whose faces for two days had filled me with loathing and horror,
so bloodthirsty and malignant were they--were again as mild as lambs,
and as cheerful as though they had never heard of a witch tragedy.”
Once, when shooting in the forest, Du Chaillu came upon a sight which
filled him with horror. It was the body of a young woman, with good and
pleasant features, tied to a tree and left there. The whole body and
limbs were covered with gashes, into which the torturers had rubbed red
pepper, thus killing the poor creature with sheer agony.
Among other degrading superstitions, the Shekiani believe that men and
women can be changed into certain animals. One man, for example, was
said to have been suddenly transformed into a large gorilla as he was
walking in the village. The enchanted animal haunted the neighborhood
ever afterward, and did great mischief, killing the men, and carrying
off the women into the forest. The people often hunted it, but never
could manage to catch it. This story is a very popular one, and is
found in all parts of the country wherever the gorilla lives.
The Shekiani have another odd belief regarding the transformation
of human beings into animals. Seven days after a child is born, the
girls of the neighborhood assemble in the house, and keep up singing
and dancing all night. They fancy that on the seventh day the woman
who waited on the mother would be possessed of an evil spirit, which
would change her into an owl, and cause her to suck the blood of the
child. Bad spirits, however, cannot endure the sight or sound of human
merriment, and so the girls obligingly get up a dance, and baffle the
spirit at the same time that they gratify themselves. As in a large
village a good many children are born, the girls contrive to insure
plenty of dances in the course of the year.
Sometimes an evil spirit takes possession of a man, and is so strong
that it cannot be driven away by the usual singing and dancing, the
struggles between the exorcisers and the demon being so fierce as to
cause the possessed man to fall on the ground, to foam at the mouth,
and to writhe about in such powerful convulsions that no one can hold
him. In fact, all the symptoms are those which the more prosaic white
man attributes to epilepsy.
Such a case offers a good opportunity to the medicine man, who comes to
the relief of the patient, attended by his assistant. A hut is built in
the middle of the street, and inhabited by the doctor and patient. For
a week or ten days high festival is held, and night and day the dance
and song are kept up within the hut, not unaccompanied with strong
drink. Every one thinks it a point of honor to aid in the demolition
of the witch, and, accordingly, every one who can eat gorges himself
until he can eat no more; every one who has a drum brings it and beats
it, and those who have no musical instruments can at all events shout
and sing until they are hoarse. Sometimes the natural result of such a
proceeding occurs, the unfortunate patient being fairly driven out of
his senses by the ceaseless and deafening uproar, and darting into the
forest a confirmed maniac.
THE MPONGWÉ.
Upon the Gaboon River is a well-known negro tribe called Mpongwé.
Perhaps on account of their continual admixture with traders, they
approach nearer to civilization than those tribes which have been
described, and are peculiarly refined in their manners, appearance,
and language. They are very fond of dress, and the women in particular
are remarkable for their attention to the toilet. They wear but little
clothing, their dark, velvet-like skin requiring scarcely any covering,
and being admirably suited for setting off the ornaments with which
they plentifully bedeck themselves.
Their heads are elaborately dressed, the woolly hair being frizzed
out over a kind of cushion, and saturated with palm oil to make it
hold together. Artificial hair is also added when the original stock
is deficient, and is neatly applied in the form of rosettes over the
ears. A perfumed bark is scraped and applied to the hair, and the whole
edifice is finished off with a large pin of ivory, bone, or ebony.
When their husbands die, the widows are obliged to sacrifice this
cherished adornment and go about with shaven heads, a custom which
applies also to the other sex in time of mourning. In this country
mourning is implied by the addition of certain articles to the ordinary
clothing, but, among the Mpongwé, the case is exactly reversed. When a
woman is in mourning she shaves her head and wears as few and as bad
clothes as possible; and when a man is in mourning, he not only shaves
his head, but abandons all costume until the customary period is over.
The women wear upon their ankles huge brass rings made of stair rods,
and many of them are so laden with these ornaments that their naturally
graceful walk degenerates into a waddle; and if by chance they should
fall into the water, they are drowned by the weight of their brass
anklets.
The Mpongwés are a clever race, having a wonderful aptitude for
languages and swindling. Some of the men can speak several native
dialects, and are well versed in English, French, Spanish, and
Portuguese, using their accomplishments for the purpose of cheating
both of the parties for whom they interpret. They are very clever at an
argument, especially of that kind which is popularly known as “special
pleading,” and will prove that black is white, not to say blue or red,
with astonishing coolness and ingenuity.
Clever, however, as they are, they are liable to be cheated in their
town by their own people--if indeed those can be said to be cheated who
deliberately walk into the trap that is set for them. They will come
down to the coast, impose upon some unwary trader with their fluent
and plausible tongues, talk him into advancing goods on credit, and
then slink off to their villages, delighted with their own ingenuity.
As soon, however, as they reach their homes, the plunderers become
the plundered. Indeed, as Mr. W. Reade well remarks, “There are many
excellent business men who in private life are weak, vain, extravagant,
and who seem to leave their brains behind them. Such are the Mpongwés,
a tribe of commercial travellers, men who prey upon ignorance in the
bush, and are devoured by flattery in the town.”
As soon as the successful trader returns to his village, he is beset
by all his friends and relations, who see in him a mine of wealth, of
which they all have a share. They sing his praises, they get up dances
in his honor, they extol his generosity, eating and drinking all the
while at his expense, and never leaving him until the last plantain has
been eaten and the last drop of rum drunk. He has not strength of mind
to resist the flattery which is heaped upon him, and considers himself
bound to reward his eulogists by presents. Consequently, at the end of
a week or two he is as poor as when he started on his expedition, and
is obliged to go off and earn more money, of which he will be robbed in
a similar manner when he returns.
These feasts are not very enticing to the European palate, for the
Mpongwé have no idea of roasting, but boil all their food in earthen
vessels. They have little scruple about the different articles of diet,
but will eat the flesh of almost any animal, bird, or reptile that they
can kill.
Among the Mpongwé, the government is much the same as that of the other
tribes in Western Equatorial Africa. The different sub-tribes or clans
of the Mpongwé are ruled by their headmen, the principal chief of a
district being dignified with the title of king. Dignity has, as we all
know, its drawbacks as well as its privileges, and among the Mpongwé
it has its pains as well as its pleasures. When once a man is fairly
made king, he may do much as he likes, and is scarcely ever crossed in
anything that he may desire. But the process of coronation was anything
but agreeable, and utterly unlike the gorgeous ceremony with which
civilized men are so familiar.
[Illustration: (1.) FATE OF THE WIZARD. (See page 523.)]
[Illustration: (2.) CORONATION. (See page 527.)]
The new king is secretly chosen in solemn conclave, and no one, not
even the king elect, knows on whom the lot has fallen. On the seventh
day after the funeral of the deceased sovereign, the name of the new
king is proclaimed, and all the people make a furious rush at him.
They shout and yell at him; they load him with all the terms of abuse
in which their language is so prolific; and they insult him in the
grossest manner.
One man will run up to him and shout, “You are not my king yet!”
accompanying the words with a sound box on the ear. Another flings a
handful of mud in his face, accompanied by the same words, another gets
behind him and administers a severe kick, and a third slaps his face.
For some time the poor man is hustled and beaten by them until his life
seems to be worthless, while all around is a crowd of disappointed
subjects, who have not been able to get at their future monarch, and
who are obliged to content themselves by pelting him with sticks and
stones over the heads of their more fortunate comrades, and abusing
him, and his parents, and his brothers, sisters, and all his relatives
for several generations. This part of the ceremony of coronation is
illustrated on the previous page.
Suddenly the tumult ceases, and the king elect, bruised,
mud-bespattered, bleeding, and exhausted, is led into the house of his
predecessor, where he seats himself. The whole demeanor of the people
now changes, and silent respect takes the place of frantic violence.
The headmen of the tribe rise and say, “Now we acknowledge you as our
king; we listen to you, and obey you.” The people repeat these words
after them, and then the crown and royal robes are brought. The crown
is always an old silk hat, which, by some grotesque chance, has become
the sign of royalty in Western Africa. The state robes are composed
of a red dressing-gown, unless a beadle’s coat can be procured, and,
arrayed in this splendid apparel, the new king is presented to his
subjects, and receives their homage.
A full week of congratulations and festivities follows, by the end of
which time the king is in sad need of repose, strangers from great
distances continually arriving, and all insisting on being presented
to the new king. Not until these rites are over is the king allowed to
leave the house.
M. du Chaillu was a witness of the remarkable ceremony which has just
been described, and which took place on the coronation of a successor
to the old King Glass, who, as is rather quaintly remarked, “stuck
to life with a determined tenacity, which almost bid fair to cheat
Death. He was a disagreeable old heathen, but in his last days became
very devout--after his fashion. His idol was always freshly painted
and highly decorated; his fetish was the best cared-for fetish in
Africa, and every few days some great doctor was brought down from the
interior, and paid a large fee for advising the old king. He was afraid
of witchcraft; thought that everybody wanted to put him out of the way
by bewitching him; and in this country your doctor does not try to cure
your sickness; his business is to keep off the witches.”
The oddest thing was, that all the people thought that _he_ was a
powerful wizard, and were equally afraid and tired of him. He had
been king too long for their ideas, and they certainly did wish him
fairly dead. But when he became ill, and was likely to die, the usual
etiquette was observed, every one going about as if plunged in the
deepest sorrow, although they hated him sincerely, and were so afraid
of his supernatural powers that scarcely a native dared to pass his
hut by night, and no bribe less than a jug of rum would induce any
one to enter the house. At last he died, and then every one went into
mourning, the women wailing and pouring out tears with the astonishing
lachrymal capability which distinguishes the African women, who can
shed tears copiously and laugh at the same time.
On the second day after his death old King Glass was buried, but the
exact spot of his sepulture no one knew, except a few old councillors
on whom the duty fell. By way of a monument, a piece of scarlet cloth
was suspended from a pole. Every one knew that it only marked the spot
where King Glass was _not_ buried. For six days the mourning continued,
at the end of which time occurred the coronation, and the chief Njogoni
became the new King Glass.
The mode of burial varies according to the rank of the deceased. The
body of a chief is carefully interred, and so is that of a king, the
sepulchre of the latter being, as has just been mentioned, kept a
profound secret. By the grave are placed certain implements belonging
to the dead person, a stool or a jug marking the grave of a man, and
a calabash that of a woman. The bodies of slaves are treated less
ceremoniously, being merely taken to the burying-ground, thrown down,
and left to perish, without the honors of a grave or accompanying
symbol.
Like other dwellers upon river banks, the Mpongwé are admirable
boatmen, and display great ingenuity in making canoes. The tree from
which they are made only grows inland, and sometimes, when a large
vessel is wanted, a suitable tree can only be found some eight or ten
miles from the shore. If a canoe maker can find a tree within two or
three miles from the water, he counts himself a lucky man; but, as the
trees are being continually cut up for canoe making, it is evident that
the Mpongwé are continually driven further inland.
When a Mpongwé has settled upon a tree which he thinks will make a
good canoe, he transplants all his family to the spot, and builds a
new homestead for himself, his wives, his children, and his slaves.
Sometimes he will economize his labor, and pitch his encampment
near three or four canoe trees, all of which he intends to fashion
into vessels before he returns to his village. When the trees are
felled, and cut to the proper length--sixty feet being an ordinary
measurement--they are ingeniously hollowed by means of fire, which is
carefully watched and guided until the interior is burnt away. The
outside of the tree is then trimmed into shape with the native adze,
and the canoe is ready. A clever man, with such a family, will make
several such canoes during a single dry season.
The next and most important business is to get the canoes to the water.
This is done by cutting a pathway through the wood, and laboriously
pushing the canoe on rollers. In some cases, when the canoe tree is
nearer the sea than the river, the maker takes it direct to the beach,
launches it, and then paddles it round to the river.
CHAPTER LI.
THE FANS.
LOCALITY OF THE TRIBE -- THEIR COLOR AND GENERAL APPEARANCE -- THE
KING OF THE FANS -- AN UGLY QUEEN -- A MIXED CHARACTER -- HOSPITALITY
AND CURIOSITY -- FIERCE AND WARLIKE NATURE -- THEIR CONQUERING
PROGRESS WESTWARD -- WAR-KNIVES, AXES, AND SPEARS -- SKILL IN IRON
WORK -- THE FAN CROSS-BOW AND ITS DIMINUTIVE ARROWS -- WAR SHIELDS
AND THEIR VALUE -- ELEPHANT HUNTING -- THE WIRE NET AND THE SPEAR
TRAP -- FAN COOKERY, AND DIET IN GENERAL -- MORTARS AND COOKING POTS
-- EARTHEN PIPE-BOWLS -- CRAVING FOR MEAT -- FATE OF THE SHEEP.
The remarkable tribe which now comes before our notice inhabits a tract
of land just above the Equator, and on the easternmost known limits of
the Gaboon River. Their name for themselves is Ba-Fanh, _i. e._ the
Fan-people, and they are known along the coast as the Pasuen.
That they are truly a singular people may be inferred from the terse
summary which has been given of them,--namely, a race of cannibal
gentlemen. Their origin is unknown; but, as far as can be gathered
from various sources, they have come from the north-east, their bold
and warlike nature having overcome the weaker or more timid tribes who
originally possessed the land, and who, as far as can be ascertained,
seem to have been allied to the curious dwarfish race which has been
described on page 482.
They cannot be called negroes, as they are not black, but coffee
colored; neither do they possess the enormous lips, the elongated
skull, nor the projecting jaws, which are so conspicuous in the true
negro. In many individuals a remarkable shape of the skull is to be
seen, the forehead running up into a conical shape. Their figures are
usually slight, and their upper jaw mostly protrudes beyond the lower,
thus giving a strange expression to the countenance.
The men are dressed simply enough, their chief costume being a piece
of bark cloth, or, in case the wearer should be of very high rank, the
skin of a tiger-cat, with the tail downward. They have a way of adding
to their natural heads of hair a sort of queue, exactly like that of
the British sailor in Nelson’s days, making the queue partly out of
their own hair, and partly from tow and other fibres. It is plaited
very firmly, and is usually decorated with beads, cowries, and other
ornaments. The beard is gathered into two tufts, which are twisted like
ropes, and kept in shape by abundant grease.
The king of the Fans, Ndiayai by name, was noted for his taste in
dress. His queue divided at the end into two points, each of which was
terminated by brass rings, while a number of white beads were worn at
the top of his head. His entire body was painted red, and was also
covered with boldly-drawn tattoo marks. Round his waist he had twisted
a small piece of bark cloth, in front of which hung the tuft of leopard
skin that designated his royal authority. The whole of the hair which
was not gathered into the queue was teased out into little ropelets,
which stood well out from the head, and were terminated by beads or
small rings. His ankles were loaded with brass rings, which made a
great jingling as he walked, and his head was decorated with the red
feathers of the touraco. His teeth were filed to points, and painted
black, and his body was hung with quantities of charms and amulets.
The women wear even less costume than the men. Unmarried girls wear
none at all, and, even when married, a slight apron is all that they
use. On their heads they generally wear some ornament, and the wife
of Ndiayai--who, as Du Chaillu remarks, was the ugliest woman he had
ever seen--had a cap covered with white shells, and had made tattooing,
with which her whole body was covered, take the place of clothing. She
certainly wore a so called dress, but it was only a little strip of
red Fan cloth, about four inches wide. Two enormous copper rings were
passed through the lobes of her ears, which they dragged down in a very
unsightly manner, and on her ankles were iron rings of great weight.
These were her most precious ornaments, iron being to the Fans even
more valuable than gold is among ourselves. Apparently from constant
exposure, her skin was rough like the bark of a tree.
Most of the married women wear a bark belt about four inches wide,
which passes over one shoulder and under the other. This is not meant
as an article of dress, but only a sort of cradle. The child is seated
on this belt, so that its weight is principally sustained by it, and
it can be shifted about from side to side by merely changing the belt
from one arm to the other. The women are, as a rule, smaller in stature
than the men, and are not at all pretty, what pretence to beauty they
may have being destroyed by their abominable practice of painting their
bodies red, and filing their teeth to sharp points.
From the accounts of those who have mixed with them, the Fans present
a strange jumble of characters. They practise open and avowed
cannibalism--a custom which is as repulsive to civilized feelings
as can well be imagined. They are fierce, warlike, and ruthless in
battle, fighting for the mere love of it, with their hand against every
man. Yet in private life they are hospitable, polite, and gentle,
rather afraid of strangers, and as mildly inquisitive as cats. Both
Du Chaillu and Mr. Reade agree in these points, and the latter has
given a most amusing account of his introduction to a Fan village.
He had been previously challenged on the Gaboon River by a Fan, who
forbade the boat to pass, but, on being offered a brass rod per diem
as a recompense for his services as guide, “grinned horribly a ghastly
smile,” which showed his filed teeth, and agreed to conduct the party
to the next village. He kept his word like a man, and brought the boat
to a village, where our author made his first acquaintance with the
tribe.
“I examined these people with the interest of a traveller; they hailed
me with the enthusiasm of a mob. The chief’s house, to which I had been
conducted, was surrounded by a crowd of cannibals, four deep; and the
slight modicum of light which native architecture permits to come in by
the door was intercepted by heads and parrots’ feathers. At the same
time, every man talked as if he had two voices. Oshupu obtained me a
short respite by explaining to them that it was the habit of the animal
to come out to air himself, and to walk to and fro in the one street
of the village. Being already inured to this kind of thing, I went out
at sunset and sat before the door. Oshupu, squatting beside me, and
playing on a musical instrument, gave the proceeding the appearance of
a theatrical entertainment.
“And this taught me how often an actor can return the open merriment
of the house with sly laughter in his sleeve. One seldom has the
fortune to see anything so ludicrous on the stage as the grotesque
grimaces of a laughing audience. But oh, if Hogarth could have seen
my cannibals! Here stood two men with their hands upon each other’s
shoulders, staring at me in mute wonder, their eyes like saucers,
their mouths like open sepulchres. There an old woman, in a stooping
attitude, with her hands on her knees, like a cricketer ‘fielding out;’
a man was dragging up his frightened wife to look at me, and a child
cried bitterly with averted eyes. After the Fans had taken the edge off
their curiosity, and had dispersed a little, I rose to enjoy my evening
promenade. All stared at me with increasing wonder. That a man should
walk backward and forward with no fixed object is something which the
slothful negro cannot understand, and which possibly appears to him
rather the action of a beast than of a human being.
“It was not long before they contrived to conquer their timidity. I
observed two or three girls whispering together and looking at me.
Presently I felt an inquisitive finger laid on my coat, and heard the
sound of bare feet running away. I remained in the same position. Then
one bolder than the rest approached me, and spoke to me smiling. I
assumed as amiable an expression as Nature would permit, and touched
my ears to show that I did not understand. At this they had a great
laugh, as if I had said something good, and the two others began to
draw near like cats. One girl took my hand between hers, and stroked it
timidly; the others, raising toward me their beautiful black eyes, and
with smiles showing teeth which were not filed, and which were as white
as snow, demanded permission to touch this hand, which seemed to them
so strange. And then they all felt my cheeks and my straight hair, and
looked upon me as a tame prodigy sent to them by the gods; and all the
while they chattered, the pretty things, as if I could understand them.
“Now ensued a grand discussion; first my skin was touched, and then
my coat, and the two were carefully compared. At length one of them
happened to pull back my coat, and on seeing my wrist they gave a cry,
and clapped their hands unanimously. They had been arguing whether my
coat was of the same material as my skin, and an accident had solved
the mystery.
“I was soon encircled by women and children, who wished to touch
my hands, and to peep under my cuffs--a proceeding which I endured
with exemplary patience. Nor did I ever spend half an hour in a Fan
village before these weaker vessels had forgotten that they had cried
with terror when they first saw me; and before I also had forgotten
that these amicable Yaricos would stew me in palm oil and serve me up
before their aged sires, if so ordered, with as little reluctance as
an English cook would crimp her cod, skin her eels alive, or boil her
lobsters into red agony.”
The Fans are a fierce and warlike people, and by dint of arms have
forced their way into countries far distant from their own, wherever
that may have been. No tribes have been able to stand against them, and
even the large and powerful Bakalai and Shekiani have had to yield up
village after village to the invaders, so that in some parts all these
tribes are curiously intermingled; and all these are at war with each
other. The Fans, however, are more than a match for the other two, even
if they were to combine forces, which their short-sighted jealousy will
not permit them to do; and by slow degrees the Bakalai and Shekiani
are wasting away, and the Fans taking their places. They have even
penetrated into the Mpongwé country, so that they proceed steadily from
the east toward the seaboard.
The progress made by the Fans has been astonishingly rapid. Before 1847
they were only known traditionally to the sea-shore tribes as a race of
warlike cannibals, a few villages being found in the mountainous region
from which the head waters of the Gaboon River take their origin.
Now they have passed westward until they are within a few miles of
the sea-coast and are now and then seen among the settlements of the
traders.
Every Fan becomes a warrior when he obtains the age of manhood, and
goes systematically armed with a truly formidable array of weapons.
Their principal offensive weapon is the huge war-knife, which is
sometimes three feet in length, and seven inches or so in width.
Several forms of these knives are shown in the illustration on page
558. The general shape is much like that of the knives used in other
parts of Western Africa. That on the left hand (fig. 1) may almost be
called a sword, so large and heavy is it. In using it, the Fan warrior
prefers the point to the edge, and keeps it sharpened for the express
purpose. Another form of knife is seen in fig. 2. This has no point,
and is used as a cutting instrument. Many of them have also a smaller
knife, which they use for cutting meat, and other domestic purposes,
reserving the large knives entirely for battle.
All these knives are kept very sharp, and are preserved in sheaths,
such as are seen in the illustration. The sheaths are mostly made of
two flat pieces of wood, slightly hollowed out, so as to receive the
blade, and covered with hide of some sort. Snake skin forms a favorite
covering to the sheaths, and many of the sheaths are covered with human
skin, torn from the body of a slain enemy. The two halves of the sheath
are bound together by strips of raw hide, which hold them quite firmly
in their places.
Axes of different kinds are also employed by the Fans. One of these
bears a singular resemblance to the Neam-Nam war-knife, as seen on page
437, and is used in exactly the same manner, namely, as a missile.
Its head is flat and pointed, and just above the handle is a sharp
projection, much like that on the Neam-Nam knife. When the Fan warrior
flings his axe, he aims it at the head of the enemy, and has a knack of
hurling it so that its point strikes downward, and thus indicts a blow
strong enough to crush even the hard skull of a native African.
Spears are also used, their shafts being about six or seven feet in
length, and of some thickness. They are used for thrusting, and not for
throwing, and their heads are of various shapes. There is a very good
group of them in the museum of the Anthropological Society, exhibiting
the chief forms of the heads. These spears, as well as the shield which
accompanies them, were brought to England by M. du Chaillu, to whom
we are indebted for most of our knowledge concerning this remarkable
tribe. Some of the spear heads are quite plain and leaf-shaped, while
others are formed in rather a fantastical manner. One, for example, has
several large and flat barbs set just under the head, another has only
a single pair of barbs, while a third looks much like the sword-knife
set in the end of a shaft, and so converted into a spear.
All their weapons are kept in the best order, their owners being ever
ready for a fray; and they are valued in proportion to the execution
which they have done, the warriors having an almost superstitious
regard for a knife which has killed a man. Their weapons are all made
by themselves, and the quality of the steel is really surprising. They
obtain their iron ore from the surface of the ground, where it lies
about plentifully in some localities. In order to smelt it, they cut a
vast supply of wood and build a large pile, laying on it a quantity of
the ore broken into pieces. More wood is then thrown on the top, and
the whole is lighted. Fresh supplies of wood are continually added,
until the iron is fairly melted out of the ore. Of course by this rough
mode of procedure, a considerable percentage of the metal is lost, but
that is thought of very little consequence.
The next business is to make the cast-iron malleable, which is done by
a series of beatings and hammerings, the result being a wonderfully
well-tempered steel. For their purposes, such steel is far preferable
to that which is made in England; and when a Fan wishes to make a
particularly good knife or spear head, he would rather smelt and temper
iron for himself than use the best steel that Sheffield can produce.
The bellows which they employ are made on exactly the same principle
as those which have several times been mentioned. They are made of two
short hollow cylinders, to the upper end of which is tied a loose piece
of soft hide. A wooden handle is fixed to each skin. From the bottoms
of the cylinders a wooden pipe is led, and the two pipes converge in
an iron tube. The end of this tube is placed in the fire, and the
bellows-man, by working the handles up and down alternately, drives a
constant stream of air into the fire.
Their anvils and hammers are equally simple; and yet, with such rude
materials, they contrive, by dint of patient working, to turn out
admirable specimens of blacksmith’s work. All their best weapons are
decorated with intricate patterns engraven on the blades, and, as time
is no object to them, they will spend many months on the figuring and
finishing of a single axe blade. The patterns are made by means of a
small chisel and a hammer. Some of their ruder knives are not intended
as weapons of war, but merely as instruments by which they can cut down
the trees and brushwood that are in the way when they want to clear a
spot for agriculture. It will now be seen why iron is so valuable a
commodity among the Fans, and why a couple of heavy anklets made of
this precious metal should be so valued by the women.
There is one very singular weapon among the Fans. Perhaps there is
no part of the world where we could less expect to find the crossbow
than among a cannibal tribe at the head of the Gaboon. Yet there the
crossbow is regularly used as an engine of war, and a most formidable
weapon it is, giving its possessors a terrible advantage over their
foes. The ingenuity exhibited in the manufacture of this weapon is very
great, and yet one cannot but wonder at the odd mixture of cleverness
and stupidity which its structure shows. The bow is very strong, and
when the warrior wishes to bend it he seats himself on the ground, puts
his foot against the bow, and so has both hands at liberty, by which he
can haul the cord into the notch which holds it until it is released
by the trigger. The shaft is about five feet long, and is split for a
considerable portion of its length. The little stick which is thrust
between the split portions constitutes the trigger, and the method of
using it is as follows:--
Just below the notch which holds the string is a round hole through
which passes a short peg. The other end of the peg, which is made of
very hard wood, is fixed into the lower half of the split shaft, and
plays freely through the hole. When the two halves of the shaft are
separated by the trigger, the peg is pulled through the hole, and
allows the cord to rest in the notch. But as soon as the trigger is
removed the two halves close together, and the peg is thus driven up
through the hole, knocking the cord out of the notch. I have in my
collection a Chinese crossbow, the string of which is released on
exactly the same principle.
Of course, an accurate aim is out of the question, for the trigger-peg
is held so tightly between the two halves of the shaft that it
cannot be pulled out without so great an effort that any aim must be
effectually deranged. But in the use of this weapon aim is of very
little consequence, as the bow is only used at very short ranges,
fifteen yards being about the longest distance at which a Fan cares
to expend an arrow. The arrows themselves are not calculated for long
ranges, as they are merely little strips of wood a foot or so in
length, and about the sixth of an inch in diameter. They owe their
terrors, not to their sharpness, nor to the velocity with which they
are impelled, but to the poison with which their tips are imbued.
Indeed, they are so extremely light that they cannot be merely laid on
the groove of the shaft, lest they should be blown away by the wind.
They are therefore fastened in their place with a little piece of gum,
of which the archer always takes care to have a supply at hand. Owing
to their diminutive size, they cannot be seen until their force is
expended, and to this circumstance they owe much of their power. They
have no feathers, neither does any particular care seem to be taken
about their tips, which, although pointed, are not nearly as sharp as
those of the tiny arrows used by the Dyaks of Borneo, or the Macoushies
of the Essequibo.
The poison with which their points are imbued is procured from the
juice of some plant at present unknown, and two or three coatings are
given before the weapon is considered to be sufficiently envenomed. The
Fans appear to be unacquainted with any antidote for the poison, or,
if they do know of any, they keep it a profound secret. The reader may
remember a parallel instance among the Bosjesmans, with regard to the
antidote for the poison-grub.
Besides these arrows, they use others about two feet in length, with
iron heads, whenever they go in search of large game; but in warfare,
the little arrow is quite strong enough to penetrate the skin of a
human being, and is therefore used in preference to the larger and more
cumbrous dart.
The only defensive weapon is the shield, which is made from the hide
of the elephant. It varies slightly in shape, but is generally oblong,
and is about three feet long by two and a half wide, so that it covers
all the vital parts of the body. The piece of hide used for the shield
is cut from the shoulders of the elephant, where, as is the case with
the pachyderms in general, the skin is thickest and strongest. No spear
can penetrate this shield, the axe cannot hew its way through it,
the missile knife barely indents it, and the crossbow arrows rebound
harmlessly from its surface. Even a bullet will glance off if it should
strike obliquely on the shield. Such a shield is exceedingly valuable,
because the skin of an elephant will not afford material for more than
one or two shields, and elephant-killing is a task that needs much
time, patience, courage, and ingenuity. Moreover, the elephant must
be an old one, and, as the old elephants are proverbially fierce and
cunning, the danger of hunting them is very great.
Like other savages, the Fan has no idea of “sport.” He is necessarily a
“pot-hunter,” and thinks it the most foolish thing in the world to give
the game a fair chance of escape. When he goes to hunt, he intends to
kill the animal, and cares not in the least as to the means which he
uses. The manner of elephant hunting is exceedingly ingenious.
As soon as they find an elephant feeding, the Fans choose a spot at a
little distance where the monkey vines and other creepers dangle most
luxuriantly from the boughs. Quietly detaching them, they interweave
them among the tree trunks, so as to make a strong, net-like barrier,
which is elastic enough to yield to the rush of an elephant, and strong
enough to detain and entangle him. Moreover, the Fans know well that
the elephant dreads anything that looks like a fence, and, as has been
well said, may be kept prisoner in an enclosure which would not detain
a calf.
When the barrier is completed, the Fans, armed with their spears,
surround the elephant, and by shouts and cries drive him in the
direction of the barrier. As soon as he strikes against it, he is
filled with terror, and instead of exerting his gigantic strength, and
breaking through the obstacle, he struggles in vague terror, while
his enemies crowd round him, indicting wound after wound with their
broad-bladed spears. In vain does he strike at the twisted vines, or
endeavor to pull them down with his trunk, and equally in vain he
endeavors to trample them under foot. The elastic ropes yield to his
efforts, and in the meanwhile the fatal missiles are poured on him from
every side. Some of the hunters crawl through the brush, and wound him
from below; others climb up trees, and hurl spears from among the
boughs: while the bolder attack him openly, running away if he makes a
charge, and returning as soon as he pauses, clustering round him like
flies round a carcass.
This mode of chase is not without its dangers, men being frequently
killed by the elephant, which charges unexpectedly, knocks them down
with a blow of the trunk, and then tramples them under foot. Sometimes
an unfortunate hunter, when charged by the animal, loses his presence
of mind, runs toward the vine barrier, and is caught in the very meshes
which he helped to weave. Tree climbing is the usual resource of a
chased hunter; and, as the Fans can run up trees almost as easily as
monkeys, they find themselves safer among the branches than they would
be if they merely tried to dodge the animal round the tree trunks.
The Fans also use an elephant trap which is identical in principle with
that which is used in killing the hippopotamus,--namely, a weighted
spear hung to a branch under which the elephant must pass, and detached
by a string tied to a trigger. The natives are assisted in their
elephant-hunting expeditions by the character of the animal. Suspicious
and crafty as is the elephant, it has a strong disinclination to leave
a spot where it finds the food which it likes best; and in consequence
of this peculiarity, whenever an elephant is discovered, the Fans feel
sure that it will remain in the same place for several days, and take
their measures accordingly.
When they have killed an elephant, they utilize nearly the whole of
the enormous carcass, taking out the tusks for sale, using the skin of
the back for shields, and eating the whole of the flesh. To European
palates the flesh of the elephant is distasteful, partly on account
of its peculiar flavor, and partly because the cookery of the native
African is not of the best character. M. du Chaillu speaks of it in
very contemptuous terms. “The elephant meat, of which the Fans seem to
be very fond, and which they have been cooking and smoking for three
days, is the toughest and most disagreeable meat I ever tasted. I
cannot explain its taste, because we have no flesh which tastes like
it, but it seems full of muscular fibre or gristle; and when it has
been boiled for two days, twelve hours each day, it is still tough. The
flavor is not unpleasant; but, although I had tried at different times
to accustom myself to it, I found only that my disgust grew greater.”
Whether elephant meat is governed by the same culinary laws as ox meat
remains to be seen; but, if such be the case, the cook who _boiled_ the
meat for twenty-four hours seems to have ingeniously hit upon a plan
that would make the best beef tough, stringy, tasteless, and almost
uneatable. Had it been gently simmered for six hours, the result might
have been different; but to boil meat for twenty-four hours by way of
making it tender is as absurd as boiling an egg for the same period by
way of making it soft.
As to their diet in general, the Fans do not deserve a very high
culinary rank. They have plenty of material, and very slight notions of
using it. The manioc affords them a large portion of their vegetable
food, and is particularly valuable on account of the ease with which it
is cultivated, a portion of the stem carelessly placed in the ground
producing in a single season two or three large roots. The leaves
are also boiled and eaten. Pumpkins of different kinds are largely
cultivated, and even the seeds are rendered edible. M. du Chaillu says
that during the pumpkin season the villages seem covered with the
seeds, which are spread out to dry, and, when dried, they are packed in
leaves and hung in the smoke over the fireplace, in order to keep off
the attacks of an insect which injures them.
When they are to be eaten, they are first boiled, and then the skin is
removed. The seeds are next placed in a mortar together with a little
sweet oil, and are pounded into a soft, pulpy mass, which is finally
cooked over the fire, either in an earthen pot or in a plantain leaf.
This is a very palatable sort of food, and some persons prefer it to
the pumpkin itself.
The mortars are not in the least like those of Europe, being long,
narrow troughs, two feet in length, two or three inches deep, and seven
or eight wide. Each family has one or two of these small implements,
but there are always some enormous mortars for the common use of the
village, which are employed in pounding manioc. When the seed is
pounded into a paste, it is formed into cakes, and can be kept for some
little time.
The cooking pots are made of clay, and formed with wonderful accuracy,
seeing that the Fans have no idea of the potter’s wheel, even in its
simplest forms. Their cooking pots are round and flat, and are shaped
something like milk pans. They also make day water bottles of quite
a classical shape, and vessels for palm wine are made from the same
material. These wine jars are shaped much like the amphoræ of the
ancients. The clay is moulded by hand, dried thoroughly in the sun, and
then baked in a fire. The exterior is adorned with patterns much like
those on the knives and axes.
The Fans also make the bowls of their pipes of the same clay, but
always form the stems of wood. The richer among them make their pipes
entirely of iron, and prefer them, in spite of their weight and
apparent inconvenience, to any others. They also make very ingenious
water bottles out of reeds, and, in order to render them water tight,
plaster them within and without with a vegetable gum. This gum is first
softened in the fire, and laid on the vessel like pitch. It has a very
unpleasant flavor until it is quite seasoned, and is therefore kept
under water for several weeks before it is used.
Like some other savage tribes, the Fans have a craving for meat, which
sometimes becomes so powerful as to deserve the name of a disease. The
elephant affords enough meat to quell this disease for a considerable
time, and therefore they have a great liking for the flesh of this
animal. But the great luxury of a Fan is the flesh of a sheep, an
animal which they can scarcely ever procure. Mr. W. Reade, in his
“Savage Africa,” gives a most amusing description of the sensation
produced among his Fan boatmen:--
“Before I left the village I engaged another man, which gave me a crew
of eight. I also purchased a smooth-skinned sheep, and upon this poor
animal, as it lay shackled in our prow, many a hungry eye was cast.
When it bleated the whole crew burst into one loud carnivorous grin.
Bushmen can sometimes enjoy a joint of stringy venison, a cut off a
smoked elephant, a boiled monkey, or a grilled snake; but a sheep--a
real domestic sheep!--an animal which had long been looked upon as the
pride of their village, the eyesore of their poorer neighbors--which
they had been in the habit of calling ‘brother,’ and upon whom they had
lavished all the privileges of a fellow-citizen!
“That fate should have sent the white and wealthy offspring of the sea
to place this delicacy within their reach was something too strong and
sudden for their feeble minds. They were unsettled; they could not
paddle properly; their souls (which are certainly in their stomachs,
wherever ours may be) were restless and quivering toward that sheep, as
(I have to invent metaphors) the needle ere it rests upon its star.
“When one travels in the company of cannibals, it is bad policy to let
them become too hungry. At mid-day I gave orders that the sheep should
be killed. There was a yell of triumph, a broad knife steeped in blood,
a long struggle; then three fires blazed forth, three clay pots were
placed thereon, and filled with the bleeding limbs of the deceased.
On an occasion like this, the negro is endowed for a few moments with
the energy and promptitude of the European. Nor would I complain of
needless delay in its preparation for the table--which was red clay
covered with grass. The mutton, having been slightly warmed, was
rapidly devoured.
“After this they wished to recline among the fragments of the feast,
and enjoy a sweet digestive repose. But then the white man arose, and
exercised that power with which the lower animals are quelled. His look
and his tone drew them to their work, though they did not understand
his words.”
CHAPTER LII.
THE FANS--_Concluded_.
CANNIBALISM AND ITS DEVELOPMENT AMONG THE FANS -- NATIVE IDEAS ON THE
SUBJECT -- EXCHANGE OF BODIES BETWEEN VILLAGES -- ATTACK ON A TOWN
AND ROBBERY OF THE GRAVES -- MATRIMONIAL CUSTOMS -- BARGAINING FOR A
WIFE -- COPPER “NEPTUNES” -- THE MARRIAGE FEAST -- RELIGION OF THE
FANS -- THE IDOL HOUSES -- LOVE OF AMULETS -- DANCE IN HONOR OF THE
NEW MOON -- PLAYING THE HANDJA -- ELEPHANTS CAUGHT BY THE FETISH --
PROBABLE CHARACTER OF THE “FETISH” IN QUESTION -- THE GORILLA AND ITS
HABITS -- A GORILLA HUNT BY THE FANS -- USE OF THE SKULL.
The preceding story naturally brings us to the chief characteristic of
the Fans,--namely, their cannibalism.
Some tribes where this custom is practised are rather ashamed
of it, and can only be induced to acknowledge it by cautious
cross-questioning. The Fans, however, are not in the least ashamed
of it, and will talk of it with perfect freedom--at least until they
see that their interlocutor is shocked by their confession. Probably
on this account missionaries have found some difficulty in extracting
information on the subject. Their informants acknowledged that human
flesh was eaten by their tribe, but not in their village. Then, as soon
as they had arrived at the village in which cannibalism was said to
exist, the inhabitants said that the travellers had been misinformed.
Certainly their tribe did eat human flesh, but no one in their village
did so. But, if they wanted to see cannibalism, they must go back to
the village from which they had just come, and there they would find it
in full force.
Knowing this peculiarity, Mr. W. Reade took care to ask no questions
on the subject until he had passed through all the places previously
visited by white men, and then questioned an old and very polite
cannibal. His answers were plain enough. Of course they all ate men.
He ate men himself. Man’s flesh was very good, and was “like monkey,
all fat.” He mostly ate prisoners of war, but some of his friends ate
the bodies of executed wizards, a food of which he was rather afraid,
thinking that it might disagree with him.
He would not allow that he ate his own relations when they died,
although such a statement is made, and has not as yet been disproved.
Some travellers say that the Fans do not eat people of their own
village, but live on terms of barter with neighboring villages,
amicably exchanging their dead for culinary purposes. The Oshebas,
another cannibal tribe of the same country, keep up friendly relations
with the Fans, and exchange the bodies of the dead with them. The
bodies of slaves are also sold for the pot, and are tolerably cheap, a
dead slave costing, on the average, one small elephant’s tusk.
The friendly Fan above mentioned held, in common with many of his dark
countrymen, the belief that all white men were cannibals. “These,” said
a Bakalai slave, on first beholding a white man, “are the men that eat
us!” So he asked Mr. Reade why the white men take the trouble to send
to Africa for negroes, when they could eat as many white men as they
liked in their own land. His interlocutor having an eye to the possible
future, discreetly answered that they were obliged to do so, _because
the flesh of white men was deadly poison_, with which answer the worthy
cannibal was perfectly satisfied.
Just before M. du Chaillu came among the Fans a strange and wild
incident had occurred. It has already been mentioned that the Fans
have been for some years pushing their way westward, forming part of
the vast stream of human life that continually pours over the great
mountain wall which divides Central Africa from the coast tribes. After
passing through various districts, and conquering their inhabitants,
they came upon a village of the Mpongwé, and, according to their wont,
attacked it. The Mpongwé were utterly incapable of resisting these
warlike and ferocious invaders, and soon fled from their homes, leaving
them in the hands of the enemy. The reader may find an illustration of
this scene on the next page.
The Fans at once engaged in their favorite pastime of plunder, robbing
every hut that they could find, and, when they had cleared all the
houses, invading the burial-grounds, and digging up the bodies of the
chiefs for the sake of the ornaments, weapons, and tools which are
buried with them.
They had filled two canoes with their stolen treasures when they came
upon a grave containing a newly-buried body. This they at once exhumed,
and, taking it to a convenient spot under some mangrove trees, lighted
a fire, and cooked the body in the very pots which they had found in
the same grave with it. The reader will remember that the Mpongwé tribe
bury with the bodies of their principal men the articles which they
possessed in life, and that a chief’s grave is therefore a perfect
treasure house.
All bodies, however, are not devoured, those of the kings and great
chiefs being buried together with their best apparel and most valuable
ornaments.
The matrimonial customs of the Fans deserve a brief notice. The reader
may remember that, as a general rule, the native African race is not a
prolific one--at all events in its own land, though, when imported to
other countries as slaves, the Africans have large families. Children
are greatly desired by the native tribes because they add to the
dignity of the parent, and the lack of children is one of the reasons
why polygamy is so universally practised; and, as a rule, a man has
more wives than children. Yet the Fans offered a remarkable exception
to this rule, probably on account of the fact that they do not marry
until their wives have fairly arrived at woman’s estate. They certainly
betroth their female children at a very early age, often as soon as
they are born, but the actual marriage does not take place until the
child has become a woman, and in the meantime the betrothed girl
remains with her parents, and is not allowed that unrestricted license
which prevails among so many of the African tribes.
This early betrothal is a necessity, as the price demanded for a wife
is a very heavy one, and a man has to work for a long time before he
can gather sufficient property for the purchase. Now that the Fans have
forced themselves into the trading parts of the country, “trader’s
goods” are the only articles that the father will accept in return for
his daughter; and, as those goods are only to be bought with ivory, the
Fan bridegroom has to kill a great number of elephants before he can
claim his wife.
Bargaining for a wife is often a very amusing scene (see illustration
on next page), especially if the father has been sufficiently sure of
his daughter’s beauty to refrain from betrothing her as a child, and
to put her up, as it were, to auction when she is nearly old enough to
be married. The dusky suitor dresses himself in his best apparel, and
waits on the father, in order to open the negotiation.
His business is, of course, to depreciate the beauty of the girl, to
represent that, although she may be very pretty as a child of eleven or
twelve, she will have fallen off in her good looks when she is a mature
woman of fourteen or fifteen. The father, on the contrary, extols the
value of his daughter, speaks slightingly of the suitor as a man quite
beneath his notice, and forthwith sets a price on her that the richest
warrior could not hope to pay. Copper and brass pans, technically
called “neptunes,” are the chief articles of barter among the Fans,
who, however, do not use them for cooking, preferring for this purpose
their own clay pots, but merely for a convenient mode of carrying a
certain weight of precious metal. Anklets and armlets of copper are
also much valued, and so are white beads, while of late years the
abominable “trade-guns” have become indispensable. At last, after
multitudinous arguments on both sides, the affair is settled, and the
price of the girl agreed upon. Part is generally paid at the time by
way of earnest, and the bridegroom promises to pay the remainder when
he comes for his wife.
As soon as the day of the wedding is fixed, the bridegroom and his
friends begin to make preparations for the grand feast with which they
are expected to entertain a vast number of guests. Some of them go off
and busy themselves in hunting elephants, smoking and drying the flesh,
and preserving the tusks for sale. Others prepare large quantities of
manioc bread and plantains, while others find a congenial occupation in
brewing great quantities of palm wine. Hunters are also engaged for the
purpose of keeping up the supply of meat.
When the day is fixed, all the inhabitants of the village assemble,
and the bride is handed over to her husband, who has already paid her
price. Both are, of course, dressed in their very best. The bride
wears, as is the custom among unmarried females, nothing but red
paint and as many ornaments as she can manage to procure. Her hair is
decorated with great quantities of white beads, and her wrists and
ankles are hidden under a profusion of brass and copper rings. The
bridegroom oils his body until his skin shines like a mirror, blackens
and polishes his well-filed teeth, adorns his head with a tuft of
brightly colored feathers, and ties round his waist the handsomest skin
which he possesses.
[Illustration: (1.) ATTACK ON A MPONGWÉ VILLAGE. (See page 536.)]
[Illustration: (2.) BARGAINING FOR A WIFE. (See page 536.)]
A scene of unrestrained jollity then commences. The guests, sometimes
several hundred in number, keep up the feast for three or four days in
succession, eating elephants’ flesh, drinking palm wine, and dancing,
until the powers of nature are quite exhausted, and then sleeping for
an hour or two with the happy facility that distinguishes the native
African. Awaking from their brief slumber, they begin the feast afresh,
and after the first few hours scarcely one of the guests is sober, or
indeed is expected to be so. At last, however, all the wine is drunk,
and then the guests return to an involuntary state of sobriety.
We now come to the religion and superstitions of the Fan tribe. As far
as they have any real worship they are idolaters. Each village has a
huge idol, specially dedicated to the service of the family or clan of
which the inhabitants of the village are composed, and at certain times
the whole family assemble together at the idol house or temple, and
then go through their acts of worship, which consist chiefly of dancing
and singing. Around each of the temples are placed a number of skulls
of wild animals, among which the gorilla takes the most conspicuous
place. Such spots are thought very sacred, and no one would venture to
remove any of the skulls, such an act of desecration being thought a
capital offence.
Like many other savage tribes, they are very careless of human life,
and have many capital offences, of which witchcraft is the most common.
It may seem strange that people who habitually eat the bodies of their
fellow-men should have any superstitious feelings whatever, but among
the Fans the dread of sorcery is nearly as great as among some of the
tribes which have been already mentioned.
Witchcraft, however, is not always punished with death, the offender
being sometimes sold into slavery, the “emigrant” ships having of late
years received many Fans on board. It will be seen that the Fans always
utilize their criminals. Those who are condemned for theft, or other
ordinary crime, are executed, and their bodies eaten. But the wizards
are supposed to possess some charms which would make their bodies as
injurious after death as the culprits had been during life, and so they
sell the criminal for “traders’ goods.”
No Fan ever dreams of going without a whole host of amulets, each of
which is supposed to protect him from some special danger. The most
valuable is one which is intended to guard the wearer in battle,
and this is to be found on the person of every Fan warrior who can
afford it. It is very simple, being nothing but an iron chain with
links an inch and a half long by an inch in width. This is hung over
the left shoulder and under the right arm, and is thought to be very
efficacious. Perhaps such a chain may at some time or other have turned
the edge of a weapon, and, in consequence, the illogical natives have
thought that the iron chains were effectual preservatives in war.
Next in value comes a small bag, which is hung round the neck, and
which is a conspicuous ornament among the men. This is also a battle
fetish, and is made of the skin of some rare animal. It contains bits
of dried skin, feathers of scarce birds, the dried tips of monkeys’
tails, the dried intestines of certain animals, shells, and bits of
bone. Each article must have been taken from some rare animal, and have
been specially consecrated by the medicine man. The warriors are often
so covered with these and similar fetishes that they rattle at every
step, much to the gratification of the wearer, and even the children
are positively laden with fetish ornaments.
The reader will remember that throughout the whole of the tribes which
have been described runs a custom of celebrating some kind of religious
ceremony when the new moon is first seen. This custom is to be also
found among the Fans. It has been graphically described by Mr. W.
Reade, as follows:--
“The new moon began to rise. When she was high in the heavens, I had
the fortune to witness a religious dance in her honor. There were two
musicians, one of whom had an instrument called _handja_, constructed
on the principle of an harmonicon; a piece of hard wood being beaten
with sticks, and the notes issuing from calabashes of different
sizes fastened below. This instrument is found everywhere in Western
Africa. It is called _Balonda_ in Senegambia; _Marimba_ in Angola. It
is also described by Froebel as being used by the Indians of Central
America, where, which is still more curious, it is known by the same
name--_Marimba_. The other was a drum which stood upon a pedestal, its
skin made from an elephant’s ear. The dull thud of this drum, beaten
with the hands, and the harsh rattle of the handja, summoned the
dancers.
“They came singing in procession from the forest. Their dance was
uncouth; their song a solemn tuneless chant; they revolved in a circle,
clasping their hands as we do in prayer, with their eyes fixed always
on the moon, and sometimes their arms hung wildly toward her. The youth
who played the drum assumed a glorious attitude. As I looked upon
him--his head thrown back, his eyes upturned, his fantastic headdress,
his naked, finely moulded form--I saw beauty in the savage for the
first time.
“The measure changed, and two women, covered with green leaves and
the skins of wild beasts, danced in the midst, where they executed a
_pas-de-deux_ which would have made a _première danseuse_ despair. They
accompanied their intricate steps with miraculous contortions of the
body, and obtained small presents of white beads from the spectators.
“It has always appeared to me a special ordinance of Nature that women,
who are so easily fatigued by the ascent of a flight of stairs, or by
a walk to church, should be able to dance for any length of time; but
never did I see female endurance equal this. Never did I spend a worse
night’s rest. All night long those dreary deafening sounds drove sleep
away, and the next morning these two infatuated women were still to be
seen within a small but select circle of constant admirers, writhing in
their sinuous (and now somewhat odorous) forms with unabated ardor.”
The form of marimba or handja which is used among the Fans has mostly
seven notes, and the gourds have each a hole in them covered with a
piece of spider’s web, as has already been narrated of the Central
African drums. The Fan handja is fastened to a slight frame; and when
the performer intends to play the instrument, he sits down, places the
frame on his knees, so that the handja is suspended between them, and
then beats on the keys with two short sticks. One of these sticks is
made of hard wood, but the end of the other is covered with some soft
material so as to deaden the sound. The Fans have really some ear for
music, and possess some pretty though rudely constructed airs.
Of course the Fans have drums. The favorite form seems rather awkward
to Europeans. It consists of a wooden and slightly conical cylinder,
some four feet in length and only ten inches in diameter at the wider
end, the other measuring barely seven inches. A skin is stretched
tightly over the large end, and when the performer plays on it, he
stands with bent knees, holding the drum between them, and beats
furiously on the head with two wooden sticks.
To return to the Fan belief in charms.
It has already been mentioned that the Fans mostly hunt the elephant
by driving it against a barrier artificially formed of vines, and
killing it as it struggles to escape from the tangled and twisted
creepers. They have also another and most ingenious plan, which,
however, scarcely seems to be their own invention, but to be partly
borrowed from the tribes through which they have passed in their
progress westward. This plan is called the Nghal, that being the
name of the enclosure into which the animals are enticed. While Mr.
Reade was in the country of the Mpongwé tribe, into which, it will be
remembered, the Fans had forced their way, the hunters found out that
three elephants frequented a certain portion of the forest. Honorably
paying the Mpongwé for permission to hunt in their grounds, they set
out and built round an open patch of ground an enclosure, slightly
made, composed of posts and railings. Round the nghal were the huts of
the Fan hunters. When Mr. Reade arrived there, he was told that the
three elephants were within the nghal, sleeping under a tree; and sure
enough there they were, one of them being a fine old male with a large
pair of tusks. If he had chosen he could have walked through the fence
without taking the trouble to alter his pace, but here he was, together
with his companions, without the slightest idea of escaping. So certain
were the hunters that their mighty prey was safe, that they did not
even take the trouble to close the openings through which the animals
had entered the nghal. They were in no hurry to kill the elephants.
They liked to look at them as they moved about in the nghal, apparently
unconscious of the continual hubbub around them, and certainly
undisturbed by it. The elephants were to remain there until the new
moon, which would rise in a fortnight, and then they would be killed in
its honor.
On inquiring, it was found that the enclosure was not built round
the elephants, as might have been supposed. No. It was built at some
distance from the spot where the elephants were feeding. “The medicine
men made fetish for them to come in. They came in. The medicine men
made fetish for them to remain. And they remained. When they were
being killed, fetish would be made that they might not be angry. In a
fortnight’s time the new moon would appear, and the elephants would
then be killed. Before that time all the shrubs and light grass would
be cut down, the fence would be strengthened, and interlaced with
boughs. The elephants would be killed with spears, crossbows, and guns.”
The natives, however, would not allow their white visitor to enter the
nghal, as he wished to do, and refused all his bribes of beads and
other articles precious to the soul of the Fan. They feared lest the
presence of a white man might break the fetish, and the sight of a
white face might fright the elephants so much as to make them disregard
all the charms that had been laid upon them, and rush in their terror
against the fragile barrier which held them prisoners.
As to the method by which the elephants were induced to enter the
enclosure, no other answer was made than that which had already been
given. In India the enclosure is a vast and complicated trap, with an
opening a mile or so in width, into which the elephants are driven
gradually, and which is closed behind them as they advance into smaller
and smaller prisons. In Africa all that was done was to build an
enclosure, to leave an opening just large enough to admit an elephant,
to make fetish for the elephants, and in they came.
The whole thing is a mystery. Mr. Reade, who frankly confesses that if
he had not with his own eyes seen the nghal and its still open door he
would have refused to believe the whole story, is of opinion that the
“fetish” in question is threefold. He suggests that the first fetish
was a preparation of some plant for which the elephants have the same
mania that cats have for valerian and pigeons for salt, and thinks
that they may have been enticed into the nghal by means of this herb.
Then, after they had been induced to enter the enclosure, that they
were kept from approaching the fence by means of drugs distasteful
to them, and that the “fetish” which prevented them from being angry
when killed was simply a sort of opiate thrown to them. The well-known
fastidiousness of the elephant may induce some readers to think that
this last suggestion is rather improbable. But it is also known that,
in some parts of Africa, elephants are usually drugged by poisoned
food, and that the Indian domesticated elephant will do almost anything
for sweetmeats in which the intoxicating hemp forms an ingredient.
That the elephants are prevented from approaching the fence by means
of a distasteful preparation seems likely from a piece of fetishism
that Mr. Reade witnessed. At a certain time of the day the medicine man
made his round of the fence, singing in a melancholy voice, and daubing
the posts and rails with a dark brown liquid. This was acknowledged
to be the fetish by which the elephants were induced to remain within
the enclosure, and it is very probable that it possessed some odor
which disgusted the keen-scented animals, and kept them away from its
influence.
Mr. Reade also suggests that this method of catching elephants may be a
relic of the days when African elephants were taken alive and trained
to the service of man, as they are now in India and Ceylon. That the
knowledge of elephant training has been lost is no wonder, considering
the internecine feuds which prevail among the tribes of Africa, and
prevent them from developing the arts of peace. But that they were so
caught and trained, even in the old classical days, is well known; and
from all accounts the elephants of Africa were not one whit inferior
to their Indian relatives in sagacity or docility. Yet there is now no
part of Africa in which the natives seem to have the least idea that
such monstrous animals could be subjected to the sway of man, and even
in Abyssinia the sight of elephants acting as beasts of burden and
traction filled the natives with half incredulous awe.
When the Fans have succeeded in killing an elephant, they proceed to
go through a curious ceremony, which has somewhat of a religious
character about it. No meat is touched until these rites have been
completed. The whole hunting party assembles round the fallen elephant,
and dances round its body. The medicine man then comes and cuts off
a piece of meat from one of the hind legs and places it in a basket,
there being as many baskets as slain elephants. The meat is then cooked
under the superintendence of the medicine man and the party who killed
the elephant, and it is then carried off into the woods and offered to
the idol. Of course the idol is supposed to eat it, and the chances are
that he does so through the medium of his representative, the medicine
man. Before the baskets are taken into the woods, the hunters dance
about them as they had danced round the elephant, and beseech the idol
to be liberal toward them, and give them plenty of elephants so that
they may be able to give him plenty of meat.
The spirits being thus propitiated, the flesh is stripped off the bones
of the elephant, sliced, and hung upon branches, and smoked until it is
dry, when it can be kept for a considerable time.
The reader may remember that one of the principal ornaments of the
idol temple is the skull of the gorilla, and the same object is used
by several of the tribes for a similar purpose. The fact is, all the
natives of those districts in which the gorilla still survive are
horribly afraid of the animal, and feel for it that profound respect
which, in the savage mind, is the result of fear, and fear only. A
savage never respects anything that he does not fear, and the very
profound respect which so many tribes, even the fierce, warlike, and
well-armed Fans, have for the gorilla, show that it is really an animal
which is to be dreaded.
There has been so much controversy about the gorilla, and the history
of this gigantic ape is so inextricably interwoven with this part of
South Africa, that the present work would be imperfect without a brief
notice of it. In the above-mentioned controversy, two opposite views
were taken--one, that the gorilla was the acknowledged king of the
forest, supplanting all other wild animals, and even attacking and
driving away the elephant itself. Of man it had no dread, lying in
wait for him and attacking him whenever it saw a chance, and being a
terrible antagonist even in fair fight, the duel between man and beast
being a combat _à l’outrance_, in which one or the other must perish.
Those who took the opposite view denounced all these stories as
“old wives’ fables, only fit to be relegated to your grandmother’s
bookshelves.”--I quote the exact words--saying that the gorilla, being
an ape, is necessarily a timid and retiring animal, afraid of man,
and running away when it sees him. It is hardly necessary to mention
that M. du Chaillu is responsible for many of the statements contained
in the former of these theories--several, however, being confessedly
gathered from hearsay, and that several others were prevalent
throughout Europe long before Du Chaillu published his well-known work.
The truth seems to lie between these statements, and it is tolerably
evident that the gorilla is a fierce and savage beast when attacked,
but that it will not go out of its way to attack a man, and indeed will
always avoid him if it can. That it is capable of being a fierce and
determined enemy is evident from the fact that one of Mr. W. Reade’s
guides, the hunter Etia, had his left hand crippled by the bite of a
gorilla; and Mr. Wilson mentions that he has seen a man who had lost
nearly the whole calf of one leg in a similar manner, and who said that
he was in a fair way of being torn in pieces if he had not been rescued
by his companions. Formidable as are the terrible jaws and teeth of the
gorilla when it succeeds in seizing a man, its charge is not nearly
so much to be feared as that of the leopard, as it is made rather
leisurely, and permits the agile native to spring aside and avoid it.
On account of the structure common to all the monkey tribe, the gorilla
habitually walks on all-fours, and is utterly incapable of standing
upright like a man. It can assume a partially erect attitude, but with
bent knees, stooping body, and incurved feet, and is not nearly so
firmly set on its legs as is a dancing bear. Even while it stands on
its feet, the heavy body is so ill supported on the feeble legs that
the animal is obliged to balance itself by swaying its large arms in
the air, just as a rope-dancer balances himself with his pole.
In consequence of the formation of the limbs, the tracks which it
leaves are very curious, the long and powerful arms being used as
crutches, and the short feeble hind legs swung between them. It seems
that each party or family of gorillas is governed by an old male, who
rules them just as the bull rules its mates and children.
The natives say that the gorilla not only walks, but charges upon
all-fours, though it will raise itself on its hind legs in order to
survey its foes. Etia once enacted for Mr. W. Reade the scene in which
he had received the wound that crippled his hand. Directing Mr. Reade
to hold a gun as if about to shoot, he rushed forward on all-fours,
seized the left wrist with one of his hands, dragged it to his mouth,
made believe to bite it, and then made off on all-fours as he had
charged. And, from the remarkable intelligence which this hideous but
polite hunter had shown in imitating other animals, it was evident that
his story was a true one.
As to the houses which the gorilla is said to build, there is some
truth in the story. Houses they can scarcely be called, inasmuch as
they have no sides, and in their construction the gorilla displays an
architectural power far inferior to that of many animals. The lodge
of the beaver is a palace compared with the dwelling of the gorilla.
Many of the deserted residences may be found in the forests which the
gorilla inhabits, and look much like herons’ nests on a rather large
scale. They consist simply of sticks torn from the trees and laid
on the spreading part of a horizontal branch, so as to make a rude
platform. This nest, if we may so call it, is occupied by the female,
and in process of time is shared by her offspring. The males sleep in a
large tree.
Shy and retiring in its habits, the gorilla retreats from the
habitations of man, and loves to lurk in the gloomiest recesses of the
forest, where it finds its favorite food, and where it is free from
the intrusion of man. As to the untamable character of the gorilla as
contrasted with the chimpanzee, Mr. Reade mentions that he has seen
young specimens of both animals kept in a tame state, and both equally
gentle.
We now come to the statement that, while the gorilla is working
himself up to an attack, he beats his breast until it resounds like a
great drum, giving out a loud booming sound that can be heard through
the forest at the distance of three miles. How such a sound can be
produced in such a manner it is not easy to comprehend, and Mr. Reade,
on careful inquiry from several gorilla hunters, could not find that
one of them had ever heard the sound in question, or, indeed, had ever
heard of it. They said that the gorilla had a drum, and, on being asked
to show it, took their interlocutor to a large hollow tree, and said
that the gorilla seized two neighboring trees with his hands, and swung
himself against the hollow trunk, beating it so “strong-strong” with
his feet that the booming sound could be heard at a great distance.
Etia illustrated the practice of the gorilla by swinging himself
against the tree in a similar manner, but failed in producing the
sound. However, he adhered to his statement, and, as a succession of
heavy blows against a hollow trunk would produce a sort of booming
noise, it is likely that his statement may have been in the main a
correct one.
Now that the natives have procured fire-arms, they do not fear the
gorilla as much as they used to do. Still, even with such potent
assistance, gorilla hunting is not without its dangers, and, as we have
seen, many instances are known where a man has been severely wounded by
the gorilla, though Mr. Reade could not hear of a single case where the
animal had killed any of its assailants.
When the native hunters chase the gorilla, and possess fire-arms, they
are obliged to fire at very short range, partly because the dense
nature of those parts of the forest which the gorilla haunts prevent
them from seeing the animal at a distance of more than ten or twelve
yards, and partly because it is necessary to kill at the first shot
an animal which, if only wounded, attacks its foes, and uses fiercely
the formidable weapons with which it has been gifted. Any one who has
seen the skull of an adult gorilla, and noticed the vast jaw-bones, the
enormous teeth, and the high bony ridges down the head which afford
attachment to the muscles, can easily understand the terrible force of
a gorilla’s bite. The teeth, and not the paws, are the chief, if not
the only weapons which the animal employs; and, although they are given
to it in order to enable it to bite out the pith of the trees on which
it principally feeds, they can be used with quite as great effect in
combat.
So the negro hunter, who is never a good shot, and whose gun is
so large and heavy that to take a correct aim is quite out of the
question, allows the gorilla to come within three or four yards before
he delivers his fire. Sometimes the animal is too quick for him, and
in that case he permits it to seize the end of the barrel in its hands
and drag it to its mouth, and then fires just as the great jaws enclose
the muzzle between the teeth. Seizing the object of attack in the
hands, and drawing it to the mouth, seems to be with the gorilla, as
with others of the monkey tribe, the ordinary mode of fighting. The
hunter has to be very careful that he fires at the right moment, as the
gigantic strength of the gorilla enables it to make very short work of
a trade gun, if it should happen to pull the weapon out of its owner’s
hands. A French officer told Mr. Reade that he had seen one of these
guns which had been seized by a gorilla, who had twisted and bent the
barrel “_comme une papillote_.”
The same traveller, who is certainly not at all disposed to exaggerate
the size or the power of the gorilla, was greatly struck by the aspect
of one that had been recently killed. “One day Mongilambu came and
told me that there was a freshly-killed gorilla for sale. I went down
to the beach, and saw it lying in a small canoe, which it almost
filled. It was a male, and a very large one. The preserved specimen
can give you no idea of what this animal really is, with its skin
still unshrivelled, and the blood scarcely dry upon its wounds. The
hideousness of its face, the grand breadth of its breast, its massive
arms, and, above all, its hands, like those of a human being, impressed
me with emotions which I had not expected to feel. But nothing is
perfect. The huge trunk dwindled into a pair of legs, thin, bent,
shrivelled, and decrepid as those of an old woman.”
Such being the impression made on a civilized being by the dead body
of a gorilla lying in a canoe, the natives may well be excused for
entertaining a superstitious awe of it as it roams the forest in
freedom, and for thinking that its skull is a fit adornment for the
temple of their chief idol.
To a party of native hunters unprovided with fire-arms, the chase of
the animal is a service of real difficulty and danger. They are obliged
to seek it in the recesses of its own haunts, and to come to close
quarters with it. (See the illustration on page 457). The spear is
necessarily the principal weapon employed, as the arrow, even though
poisoned, does not kill at once, and the gorilla is only incited by the
pain of a wound to attack the man who inflicted it. Their fear of the
animal is also increased by the superstition which has already been
mentioned, that a man is sometimes transformed into a gorilla, and
becomes thereby a sort of sylvan demon, who cannot be killed--at all
events, by a black man--and who is possessed with a thirst for killing
every human being that he meets.
Any specially large gorilla is sure to be credited with the reputation
of being a transformed man; and as the adult male sometimes measures
five feet six inches or so in height, there is really some excuse for
the native belief that some supernatural power lies hidden in this
monstrous ape.
After a careful investigation, Mr. Reade has come to the conclusion
that, except in point of size, there is no essential difference in the
gorilla and the chimpanzee, both animals going usually on all-fours,
and both building slight houses or platforms in the trees, both
changing their dwelling in search of food and to avoid the neighborhood
of man, and both, without being gregarious, sometimes assembling
together in considerable numbers.
CHAPTER LIII.
THE KRUMEN AND FANTI.
LOCALITY OF THE KRUMEN -- THEIR FINE DEVELOPMENT AND WONDERFUL
ENDURANCE -- THEIR SKILL IN BOATING -- COLOR OF THE KRUMEN -- THEIR
VERY SIMPLE DRESS -- DOUBLE NOMENCLATURE -- THEIR USE TO TRAVELLERS
-- GOVERNMENT OF THE KRUMEN -- THEIR LIVELY AND CHEERFUL CHARACTER
-- DOMESTIC LIFE OF THE KRUMEN -- EARNING WIVES -- RELIGION OF THE
KRUMEN -- THE DEITY “SUFFIN” -- KRUMAN FUNERAL -- THE GRAIN COAST --
THE FANTI TRIBE -- THEIR NATIVE INDOLENCE -- FANTI BOATS AND THEIR
MANAGEMENT -- THE KRA-KRA DISEASE -- A WILD LEGEND -- DRESS OF THE
FANTI -- IDEAS OF A FUTURE STATE.
Along the Grain Coast of Western Africa there is a race of men who come
too prominently before European eyes to be omitted from this work. They
have, in a degree, lost the habits of their original savage life, but
they illustrate so well the peculiar negro character that a small space
must be devoted to them.
The name Kru, or Croo, and sometimes Carew, or Crew--so diversified
is the orthography of native names--is a corruption of the Grebo word
“Kráo.” The tribe inhabits a district about twenty-five or thirty miles
along the coast, and extending for a considerable, but uncertain,
distance inland. A good many smaller tribes have been gradually
absorbed into them, and, as they have adopted the language, manners,
and customs, as well as the name of Kráo, we will treat of them all
under the same title.
In the “Wanderings of a F. R. G. S.” there is a curious account of the
derivation of the word Grebo, one of the absorbed tribes. According
to their own tradition, they originally inhabited the interior, and,
finding that their district was too thickly populated, a large number
of them determined to emigrate westward, and secretly prepared for
departure, the majority being averse to the scheme. As they embarked in
a hurry, a number of the canoes were upset, but the remainder succeeded
in bounding over the waves. The people who were capsized, and were
left behind, were therefore called “Waibo,” or the Capsized, while the
others took the name of Grebo, from the bounding gray monkey, called
Gré.
The Krumen are a fine race, and present a great contrast to the usual
slim-limbed and almost effeminate savages of the interior. They are
extremely powerful, and are able to paddle for some forty miles at a
stretch, without seeming to be the least fatigued at the end of their
labors. They are the recognized seamen of the coast, and have made
themselves necessary to the traders, and even to Government vessels, as
they can stand a wonderful amount of work, and are not affected by the
climate like the white sailors.
A Kruman lays himself out for a sailor as soon as he becomes his own
master, and is content to begin life as a “boy,” so that he may end it
as a “man”--_i. e._ he hires himself out in order to obtain goods which
will purchase a wife for him, and by dint of several voyages he adds to
the number of his wives, and consequently to the respect in which he is
held by his countrymen.
He is a marvellous canoe man, and manages his diminutive boat with a
skill that must be seen to be appreciated. He drives it through the
surf with fearless speed, and cares nothing for the boiling water
around him. “The Kruman,” writes Mr. Reade, “squats in it on his knees,
and bales the water out with one of his feet. Sometimes he paddles with
his hands: sometimes, thrusting a leg in the water, he spins the canoe
round when at full speed, like a skater on the ‘outside-edge.’ If it
should capsize, as the laws of equilibrium sometimes demand, he turns
it over, bales it out with a calabash, swimming all the while, and
glides in again, his skin shining like a seal’s.”
These singular little canoes are pointed at each end, and
crescent-shaped, so that they project fore and aft out of the water.
They are very narrow, and are made out of the single trunk of a
tree, usually cotton-wood, or a kind of poplar. The interior is first
hollowed out with fire, next trimmed with an adze, and the ribs are
prevented from collapsing by four or five cross-sticks. They are very
massively constructed, and, as the wood is very light, they do not sink
even if they are filled with water. So small are they, that at a little
distance they cannot be seen, and the inmates appear to be treading
water.
It is a curious sight to watch a fleet of these canoes come off toward
a ship. As soon as an English ship anchors, a swarm of these canoes
comes dashing along, their black inmates singing songs at the top
of their voices, and shouting “Bateo! Bateo! Gi’ way! Bar-gri!” and
similar exclamations, as they race with each other toward the vessel.
No European has been known to manage one of these frail canoes, the
usual result of getting into one being that the boat turns over, and
deposits the rash adventurer in the sea.
The appearance of the men has been graphically described by the “F. R.
G. S.” “Conceive the head of a Socrates, or a Silenus, upon the body
of the Antinous, or Apollo Belvedere. A more magnificent development
of muscle, such perfect symmetry in the balance of grace and strength,
my eyes had never yet looked upon. But the faces! Except when lighted
up by smiles and good humor--expression to an African face is all in
all--nothing could be more unprepossessing. The flat nose, the high
cheek-bones, the yellow eyes, the chalky white teeth, pointed like the
shark’s, the muzzle protruded like that of a dog-monkey, combine to
form an unusual amount of ugliness.
“To this adds somewhat the tribe mark, a blue line of cuts half
an inch broad, from the forehead scalp to the nose tip--in some
cases it extends over both lips to the chin, whence they are called
Bluenoses--whilst a broad arrow or wedge, pointed to the face, and also
blue, occupies each temple, just above the zygomata. The marks are made
with a knife, little cuts into which the oily husk of a gum is rubbed.
Their bodies are similarly ornamented with stars, European emblems, as
anchors, &c., especially with broad double lines down the breast and
other parts.
“Their features are distinctly African, without a mixture of Arab; the
conjunctiva is brown, yellow, or tarnished--a Hamitic peculiarity--and
some paint white goggle-like ovals round the orbits, producing the
effect of a loup. This is sometimes done for sickness, and individuals
are rubbed over with various light and dark colored powders. The skin
is very dark, often lamp-black; others are of a deep rich brown, or
bronze tint, but a light-complexioned man is generally called Tom
Coffee.
“They wear the hair, which is short and kinky, in crops, which look
like a Buddha’s skull-cap, and they shave when in mourning for their
relations. A favorite ‘fash’ (_i. e._ fashion) is to scrape off a
parallelogram behind the head, from the poll to the cerebellum; and
others are decorated in that landscape or parterre style which wilder
Africans love. The back of the cranium is often remarkably flat, and
I have seen many heads of the pyramidal shape, rising narrow and
pointed high to the apex. The beard is seldom thick, and never long;
the moustachio is removed, and the pile, like the hair, often grows in
tufts. The tattoo has often been described. There seems to be something
attractive in this process--the English sailor can seldom resist the
temptation.
“They also chip, sharpen, and extract the teeth. Most men cut out an
inverted V between the two middle incisors of the upper jaw; others
draw one or two of the central lower incisors; others, especially the
St. Andrews men, tip or sharpen the incisors, like the Wahiao and
several Central African tribes.
“Odontology has its mysteries. Dentists seem, or rather seemed, to
hold as a theory that destruction of the enamel involved the loss of
the tooth; the Krumen hack their masticators with a knife, or a rough
piece of hoop iron, and find that the sharpening, instead of producing
caries, acts as a preservative, by facilitating the laniatory process.
Similarly there are physiologists who attribute the preservation of
the negro’s teeth to his not drinking anything hotter than blood heat.
This is mere empiricism. The Arabs swallow their coffee nearly boiling,
and the East African will devour his agali, or porridge, when the
temperature would scald the hand. Yet both these races have pearls of
teeth, except when they chew lime or tobacco.”
The native dress of the men is simple enough, consisting of a pink and
white or blue and white check cloth round the waist, and a variety of
ornaments, made of skin, metal, glass, or ivory. The latter substance
is mostly obtained either from the Gaboon or Cameroon, and is worn in
the shape of large arm rings, cut slowly with a knife, and polished
by drawing a wet cord backward and forward. Some of the sailor Krumen
have their names (_i. e._ their nautical names) engraved on their
armlets, and some of them wear on the breast a brass plate with the
name engraved upon it. Of course some of their ornaments are charms or
fetishes.
The women present a disagreeable contrast to the men, their stature
being short, their proportions ungainly, and their features repulsive.
Their style of dress, which is merely a much-attenuated petticoat,
displays nearly the whole of the figure, and enables the spectator to
form a very accurate opinion of their personal appearance. Of course,
the chief part of the work is done by the women, and this custom has
doubtless some effect in stunting and deteriorating the form.
All the Krumen have two names, one being that by which they are
called in their own tongue, and one by which they are known to their
employers. It really seems a pity that these fine fellows should be
degraded by the ludicrous English names which are given to them. Their
own names--_e. g._ Kofá, Nákú, Tiyá, &c.--are easy enough to speak, and
it would be far better to use them, and not to “call them out of their
names,” according to the domestic phrase. Here are the names of five
men who engaged to take Mr. Reade to the Gaboon: Smoke Jack, Dry Toast,
Cockroach, Pot-of-Beer, and--of all the names in the world for a naked
black man--Florence Nightingale.
They always demand rice, that being a necessity with them, and as long
as they get their pint and a half per diem of rice they can stand
unlimited work. They cook the rice for themselves in their primitive
but effective manner, and feed themselves much as turkeys are crammed,
seizing large handfuls of rice, squeezing them into balls, and
contriving, in some mysterious way, to swallow them whole without being
choked. When they enter the naval service they consider themselves as
made men, getting not only their rice, but allowance in lieu of other
rations plenty of clothing, and high wages, so that when they go ashore
they are rich men, and take their rank. Of course they are fleeced by
all their relations, who flock round them, and expect to be feasted for
several days, but still the sailor Kruman can buy a wife or two, and
set up for a “man” at once. In his own phrase, he is “nigger for ship,
king for country.” One year is the usual term of engagement, and it is
hardly possible to induce Krumen to engage for more than three years,
so attached are they to “me country.”
Their government is simple. They are divided into four classes, or
castes,--namely, the elders, the actual warriors, the probationary
warriors, and the priests; the latter term including the priests
proper, the exorcists, and the physicians. They are strictly
republican, and no one is permitted to accumulate, or, at all events,
to display, wealth much above the average of his fellows. Should even
one of the elders do so, a palaver is held, and his property is reduced
to proper level. This is described by the English-speaking Krumen
as the punishment for “too much sass.” In fact, property is held on
the joint stock principle, so that the word “commonwealth” is very
applicable to their mode of government.
Capital punishment is rare, and is seldom used, except in cases of
witchcraft or murder, and it is remarkable that, in the latter case,
no distinction is made between accidental manslaughter and murder with
“_malice prepense_.” The poison ordeal is common here, the draught
being prepared from the “sass-wood” of the gidden tree; and there is a
wholesome rule that, if the accused survives the ordeal, the accuser
must drink it in his turn.
That they are arrant liars, that they are confirmed thieves, and that
they have not the slightest notion of morality, is but to say that
they are savages, and those who have to deal with them can manage well
enough, provided that they only bear in mind these characteristics.
If they hear that they are going to some place which they
dislike--probably on account of some private feud, because they are
afraid of some man whose domestic relations they have disturbed--they
will come with doleful faces to their master, and tell him the most
astounding lies about it.
Yet they are a cheerful, lively set of fellows, possessing to the
full the negro’s love of singing, drumming, and dancing. Any kind of
work that they do is aided by a song, and an experienced traveller
who is paddled by Krumen always takes with him a drum of some sort,
knowing that it will make the difference of a quarter of the time
occupied in the journey. Even after a hard day’s work, they will come
to their master, ask permission to “make play,” and will keep up their
singing and dancing until after midnight. Under such circumstances the
traveller will do well to grant his permission, under the condition
that they remove themselves out of earshot. Even their ordinary talk
is so much like shouting, that they must always be quartered in
outhouses, and when they become excited with their music their noise is
unendurable.
They are very fond of intoxicating liquids, and are not in the least
particular about the quality, so that the intoxicating property be
there.
It has already been mentioned that they are arrant thieves, and in
nothing is their thieving talent more conspicuous than when they
exercise it upon spirituous liquors. They even surpass the British
sailor in the ingenuity which they display in discovering and stealing
spirits, and there is hardly any risk which they will not run in order
to obtain it. Contrary to the habit of most savage people, they are
very sensitive to pain, and a flogging which would scarcely be felt by
a Bush boy will elicit shrieks of pain from a Kruman. They dread the
whip almost as much as death, and yet they will brave the terrors of a
certain flogging in order to get at rum or brandy.
No precautions seem to be available against their restless cunning, and
the unwary traveller is often surprised, when he feels ill and wants
some brandy as a medicine, that not a drop is to be found, and yet,
to all appearance, his spirit-case has been under his own eyes, and so
have the rascals who have contrived to steal it. Even so experienced a
traveller as Captain Burton, a man who knows the negro character better
than almost any European, says that he never had the chance of drinking
his last bottle of cognac, it always having been emptied by his Krumen.
Provisions of all kinds vanish in the same mysterious way: they will
strangle goats, and prepare them so as to look as if they had been
bitten by venomous serpents; and as for fowls, they vanish as if they
had voluntarily flown down the throats of the robbers. Anything bright
or polished is sure to be stolen, and it is the hardest thing in the
world to take mathematical instruments safely through Western Africa,
on account of the thievish propensities of the Krumen.
Even when they steal articles which they cannot eat, it is very
difficult to discover the spot where the missing object is hidden,
and, as a party of Krumen always share their plunder, they have an
interest in keeping their business secret. The only mode of extracting
information is by a sound flogging, and even then it often happens that
the cunning rascals have sent off their plunder by one of their own
people, or have contrived to smuggle it on board some ship.
* * * * *
We now come to the domestic habits of the Krumen as summed up in
marriage, religion, death, and burial.
These people are, as has been seen, a prudent race, and have the
un-African faculty of looking to the future. It is this faculty which
causes them to work so hard for their wives, the fact being, that, when
a man has no wife, he must work entirely for himself; when he has one,
she takes part of the labor off his hands; and when he marries a dozen
or so, they can support him in idleness for the rest of his days.
So, when a young man has scraped together sufficient property to buy a
wife, he goes to the girl’s father, shows the goods, and strikes the
bargain. If accepted, he marries her after a very simple fashion, the
whole ceremony consisting in the father receiving the goods and handing
over the girl. He remains with her in her father’s house for a week or
two, and then goes off on another trip in order to earn enough money
to buy a second. In like manner he possesses a third and a fourth, and
then sets up a domicile of his own, each wife having her own little hut.
However many wives a Kruman may have, the first takes the chief rank,
and rules the entire household. As is the case in most lands where
polygamy is practised, the women have no objection to sharing the
husband’s affections. On the contrary, the head wife will generally
urge her husband to add to his number, because every additional wife is
in fact an additional servant, and takes a considerable amount of work
off her shoulders. And an inferior wife would always prefer to be the
twelfth or thirteenth wife of a wealthy man, than the solitary wife of
a poor man for whom she will have to work like a slave.
Although the women are completely subject to their husbands, they
have a remedy in their hands if they are very badly treated. They run
away to their own family, and then there is a great palaver. Should a
separation occur, the children, although they love their mother better
than their father, are considered his property, and have to go with him.
* * * * *
Their religion is of a very primitive character, and, although
the Krumen have for so many years been brought in contact with
civilization, and have been sedulously taught by missionaries, they
have not exchanged their old superstitions for a new religion. That
they believe in the efficacy of amulets and charms has been already
mentioned, and therefore it is evident that they must have some belief
in the supernatural beings who are supposed to be influenced by these
charms. Yet, as to worship, very little is known of it, probably
because very little is practised. On one occasion, when a vessel was
wrecked, a Kruman stood all night by the sea-side, with his face
looking westward, waving the right arm, and keeping up an incessant
howling until daybreak. The others looked at him, but did not attempt
to join him.
There is one religious ceremony which takes place in a remarkable
cavern, called by the euphonious name of Grand Devil Cave. It is a
hollow in an enormous rock, having at the end a smaller and interior
cavern in which the demon resides. Evidently partaking that dislike to
naming the object of their superstitions which caused the believing
in fairies to term them the “Good people,” and the Norwegians of the
present day to speak of the bear as the “Disturber,” or “He in the fur
coat,” the Krumen prudently designate this demon as “Suffin,” _i. e._
Something.
When they go to worship they lay beads, tobacco, provisions, and rum in
the inner cavern, which are at once removed by the mysterious Suffin,
who is supposed to consume them all. In return for the liberality
of his votaries, Suffin answers any questions in any language. The
Krumen believe as firmly in the existence and supernatural character
of Suffin as the Babylonians in the time of Daniel believed that Bell
consumed daily the “twelve great measures of fine flour, the forty
sheep, and the six vessels of wine” that were offered to him. And, as a
convincing proof of the danger of incredulity, they point with awe to
a tree which stands near the mouth of the Grand Devil Cave, and which
was formerly a Kruman who expressed his disbelief in Suffin, and was
straightway transformed into the tree in question.
Their mode of swearing is by dipping the finger in salt, pointing to
heaven and earth with it, as if invoking the powers of both, and then
putting the tip of the finger in the mouth, as if calling upon the
offended powers to avenge the perjury on the person of him who had
partaken of the salt. Considering the wolfish voracity of the Krumen,
which they possess in common with other savages, they show great
self-control in yielding to a popular superstition which forbids them
to eat the hearts of cattle, or to drink the blood.
The dead Kruman is buried with many ceremonies, and, notably, a fire is
kept up before his house, so that his spirit may warm itself while it
is prepared for appreciating the new life into which it has been born.
Food is also placed near the grave for the same benevolent purpose.
Should he be a good man, he may lead the cattle which have been
sacrificed at his funeral, and so make his way to the spirit land, in
which he will take rank according to the number of cattle which he has
brought with him. Sometimes he may enter the bodies of children, and so
reappear on earth. But should he be a bad man, and especially should he
be a wizard--_i. e._ one who practises without authority the arts which
raise the regular practitioners to wealth and honor--his state after
death is very terrible, and he is obliged to wander forever through
gloomy swamps and fetid marshes.
It is a curious fact that the Krumen have some idea of a transitional
or purgatorial state. The paradise of the Krumen is called Kwiga Oran,
_i. e._ the City of the Ghosts, and before any one can enter it he must
sojourn for a certain time in the intermediate space called Menu or
Menuke.
It may be as well to remark here that the Grain Coast, on which the
Krumen chiefly live, does not derive its name from corn, barley, or
other cereals. The grain in question is the well-known cardamom, or
Grain of Paradise, which is used as a medicine throughout the whole of
Western Africa, and is employed as a remedy against various diseases.
It is highly valued as a restorative after fatigue: and when a man
has been completely worn out by a long day’s march, there is nothing
that refreshes him more than a handful of the cardamoms in a fresh
state, the juicy and partly acid pulp contrasting most agreeably
with the aromatic warmth of the seeds. The cardamom is used either
internally or externally. It is eaten as a stomachic, and is often
made into a poultice and applied to any part of the body that suffers
pain. Headache, for example, is said to be cured by the cardamom seed,
pounded and mixed with water into a paste; and, even during the hot fit
of fever, the cardamom powder is applied as a certain restorative.
THE FANTI.
The district of Western Africa, which is now known by the general title
of the Gold Coast, Ashantee, or Ashanti, is occupied by two tribes,
who are always on terms of deadly feud with each other. Internecine
quarrels are one of the many curses which retard the progress of
Africa, and, in this case, the quarrel is so fierce and persistent,
that even at the present day, though the two great tribes, the Fanti
and the Ashanti, have fought over and over again, and the latter are
clearly the victors, and have taken possession of the land, the former
are still a large and powerful tribe, and, in spite of their so called
extermination, have proved their vitality in many ways.
The Fanti tribe are geographically separated from their formidable
neighbors by the Bossumpea River, and if one among either tribe passes
this boundary it is declared to be an overt act of war. Unfortunately,
England contrived to drift into this war, and, as bad luck would have
it, took the part of the Fanti tribe, and consequently shared in their
defeat.
It is really not astonishing that the Fanti should have been so
completely conquered, as they have been termed by Mr. Duncan, a
traveller who knew them well, the dirtiest and laziest of all the
Africans that he had seen. One hundred of them were employed under
the supervision of an Englishman, and, even with this incitement,
they did not do as much as a gang of fifteen English laborers. Unless
continually goaded to work they will lie down and bask in the sun; and
even if a native overseer be employed, he is just as bad as the rest of
his countrymen.
Even such work as they do they will only perform in their own stupid
manner. For example, in fetching stone for building, they will walk,
some twenty in a gang, a full mile to the quarry, and come back, each
with a single stone weighing some eight or nine pounds on his head.
Every burden is carried on the head. They were once supplied with
wheelbarrows, but they placed one stone in each wheelbarrow, and then
put the barrows on their heads. The reason why they are so lazy is
plain enough. They can live well for a penny per diem, and their only
object in working is to procure rum, tobacco, and cotton cloths. So the
wife has to earn the necessaries of life, and the husband earns--and
consumes--the luxuries.
The Fanti tribe are good canoe men, but their boats are much larger
and heavier than those which are employed by the Krumen. They are from
thirty to forty feet in length, and are furnished with weather boards
for the purpose of keeping out the water. The shape of the paddle is
usually like that of the ace of clubs at the end of a handle; but, when
the canoes have to be taken through smooth and deep water, the blades
of the paddles are long and leaf-shaped, so as to take a good hold of
the water. The Fanti boatmen are great adepts in conveying passengers
from ships to the shore. Waiting by the ship’s side, while the heavy
seas raise and lower their crank canoes like corks, they seize the
right moment, snatch the anxious passenger off the ladder to which he
has been clinging, deposit him in the boat, and set off to shore with
shouts of exultation. On account of the surf, as much care is needed in
landing the passengers on shore as in taking them out of the vessel.
They hang about the outskirts of the surf-billows as they curl and
twist and dash themselves to pieces in white spray, and, as soon as one
large wave has dashed itself on the shore, they paddle along on the
crest of the succeeding wave, and just before it breaks they jump out
of the boat, run it well up the shore, and then ask for tobacco.
The men are rather fine-looking fellows, tall and well-formed, but are
unfortunately liable to many skin diseases, among which the terrible
kra-kra is most dreaded. This horrible disease, sometimes spelt, as it
is pronounced, craw-craw, is a sort of leprosy that overruns the entire
body, and makes the surface most loathsome to the eye. Unfortunately,
it is very contagious, and even white persons have been attacked by
it merely by placing their hands on the spot against which a negro
afflicted with kra-kra has been resting. Sometimes the whole crew of
a ship will be seized with kra-kra, which even communicates itself to
goats and other animals, to whom it often proves fatal.
The natives have a curious legend respecting the origin of this
horrible disease. The first man, named Raychow, came one day with his
son to a great hole in the ground, from which fire issues all night.
They heard men speaking to them, but could not distinguish their
faces. So Raychow sent his son down the pit, and at the bottom he met
the king of the fire hole, who challenged him to a trial of spear
throwing, the stake being his life. He won the contest, and the fire
king was so pleased with his prowess that he told the young man to ask
for anything that he liked before he was restored to the upper air.
The boon chosen was a remedy for every disease that he could name.
He enumerated every malady that he could recollect, and received a
medicine for each. As he was going away, the fire king said, “You have
forgotten one disease. It is the kra-kra, and by _that_ you shall die.”
Their color is rather dark chocolate than black, and they have a
tolerably well-formed nose, and a facial angle better than that of
the true negro. Their dress is simply a couple of cotton cloths, one
twisted round the waist, and the other hung over the shoulders. This,
however, is scarcely to be reckoned as clothing, and is to be regarded
much as an European regards his hat, _i. e._ as something to be worn
out of doors. Like the hat, it is doffed whenever a Fanti meets a
superior; this curious salutation being found also in some of the South
Sea Islands.
The women when young are ugly in face and beautiful in form--when old
they are hideous in both. In spite of the Islamism with which they are
brought so constantly in contact, and which has succeeded in making
them the most civilized of the West African tribes, the women are so
far from veiling their faces that their costume begins at the waist and
ceases at the knees. Unfortunately, they spoil the only beauty they
possess, that of shape, by an ugly appendage called the “cankey,” _i.
e._ a tolerably large oblong bag of calico, stuffed into cushion shape,
and then tied by tapes to the wearer’s back, so that the upper edge and
two of the corners project upward in a very ludicrous way. It is, in
fact, only a slight exaggeration of an article of dress which at one
time was fashionable throughout Europe, and which, to artistic eyes,
had the same demerit of spoiling a good shape and not concealing a bad
one. The married women have some excuse for wearing it, as they say
that it forms a nice cushion for the baby to sit upon; but the young
girls who also wear it have no such excuse, and can only plead the
fashion of the day.
Round the waist is always a string of beads, glass or clay if the
wearer be poor, gold if she be rich. This supports the “shim,” a sort
of under-petticoat, if we may so term it, which is simply a strip of
calico an inch or so in width, one end being fastened to the girdle of
beads in front, and the other behind. They all wear plenty of ornaments
of the usual description, _i. e._ necklaces, bracelets, armlets,
anklets, and even rings for the toes.
The hair of the married women is dressed in rather a peculiar manner.
Though crisp and curly, it grows to nine or ten inches in length,
and is frizzled and teased out with much skill and more patience.
A boldly-defined line is shaved round the roots of hair, and the
remainder of the locks, previously saturated with grease, and combed
out to their greatest length, are trained upward into a tall ridge.
Should the hair be too short or too scanty to produce the required
effect, a quantity of supplementary hair is twisted into a pad and
placed under the veritable locks. This ridge of hair is supported by a
large comb stuck in the back of the head, and, although the shape of
the hair tufts differ considerably, it is always present, and always
made as large as possible.
The Fanti have their peculiar superstitions, which have never yet been
extirpated.
In accordance with their superstitious worship, they have a great
number of holy days in the course of the year, during which they make
such a noise that an European can scarcely live in the town. Besides
uttering the horrible roars and yells which seem unproducible by other
than negro throats, they blow horns and long wooden trumpets, the sound
of which is described as resembling the roar of a bull, and walk in
procession, surrounding with their horns and trumpets the noisiest
instrument of all,--namely, the kin-kasi, or big drum. This is about
four feet in length and one in width, and takes two men to play it, one
carrying it, negro fashion, on his head, and the other walking behind,
and belaboring it without the least regard to time, the only object
being to make as much noise as possible.
Their fetishes are innumerable, and it is hardly possible to walk
anywhere without seeing a fetish or two. Anything does for a fetish,
but the favorite article is a bundle of rags tied together like a
child’s rag doll. This is placed in some public spot, and so great is
the awe with which such articles are regarded, that it will sometimes
remain in the same place for several weeks. A little image of clay,
intended to represent a human being, is sometimes substituted for the
rag doll.
The following succinct account of the religious system is given in
the “Wanderings of a F. R. G. S.:”--“The religious ideas of the Fanti
are, as usual in Africa, vague and indistinct. Each person has his
Samán--literally a skeleton or goblin--or private fetish, an idol, rag,
fowl, feathers, bunch of grass, a bit of glass, and so forth; to this
he pays the greatest reverence, because it is nearest to him.
“The Bosorus are imaginary beings, probably of ghostly origin, called
‘spirits’ by the missionaries. Abonsám is a malevolent being that lives
in the upper regions. Sasabonsám is the friend of witch and wizard,
hates priests and missionaries, and inhabits huge silk-cotton trees
in the gloomiest forests; he is a monstrous being, of human shape, of
red color, and with long hair. The reader will not fail to remark the
similarity of Sasabonsám to the East Indian Rákshasha, the malevolent
ghost of a Brahmin, brown in color, inhabiting the pipul tree.
“Nyankupon, or Nyawe, is the supreme deity, but the word also means
the visible firmament or sky, showing that there has been no attempt
to separate the ideal from the material. This being, who dwells in
Nyankuponfi, or Nyankuponkroo, is too far from earth to trouble himself
about human affairs, which are committed to the Bosorus. This, however,
is the belief of the educated, who doubtless have derived something
from European systems--the vulgar confound him with sky, rain, and
thunder.
“‘Kra,’ which the vocabularies translate ‘Lord,’ is the Anglicised
okro, or ocroe, meaning a favorite male slave, destined to be
sacrificed with his dead master; and ‘sun-sum,’ spirit, means a shadow,
the man’s _umbra_. The Fantis have regular days of rest: Tuesdays for
fishermen, Fridays for bushmen, peasants, and so on.”
There is very little doubt that the conjecture of the author is right,
and that several of these ideas have been borrowed from European
sources.
The rite of circumcision is practised among the Fantis, but does not
seem to be universal, and a sacred spot is always chosen for the
ceremony. At Accra, a rock rising out of the sea is used for the
purpose.
Burial is conducted with the usual accompaniments of professional
mourners, and a funeral feast is held in honor of the deceased. A sheep
is sacrificed for the occasion, and the shoulder bone is laid on the
grave, where it is allowed to remain for a considerable time. Sometimes
travellers have noticed a corpse placed on a platform and merely
covered with a cloth. These are the bodies of men who have died without
paying their debts, and, according to Fanti laws, there they are likely
to remain, no one being bold enough to bury them. By their laws, the
man who buries another succeeds to his property, but also inherits his
debts, and is legally responsible for them. And as in Western Africa
the legal rate of interest is far above the wildest dreams of European
usurers--say fifty per cent. per annum, or per mensem, or per diem, as
the case may be--to bury an exposed corpse involves a risk that no one
likes to run.
One of their oddest superstitions is their belief in a child who has
existed from the beginning of the world. It never eats nor drinks,
and has remained in the infantile state ever since the world and it
came into existence. Absurd as is the idea, this miraculous child is
firmly believed in, even by persons who have had a good education, and
who say that they have actually seen it. Mr. Duncan, to whom we are
indebted for the account of it, determined to see it, and was so quick
in his movements that he quite disconcerted its nurse, and stopped her
preparations for his visit.
[Illustration: (1.) THE PRIMEVAL CHILD. (See page 553.)]
[Illustration: (2.) FETISHES--MALE AND FEMALE. (See pages 562, 565.)]
“Being again delayed, I lost patience, and resolved to enter the
dwelling. My African friends and the multitude assembled from all
parts of the town, warned me of the destruction that would certainly
overtake me if I ventured to go in without leave. But I showed them my
double-barrelled gun as my fetish, and forced my way through the crowd.
“On entering through a very narrow door or gateway, into a circle of
about twenty yards’ diameter, fenced round by a close paling, and
covered outside with long grass (so that nothing within could be
seen), the first and only thing that I saw was an old woman who, but
for her size and sex, I should have taken for the mysterious being
resident there from the time of the creation. She certainly was the
most disgusting and loathsome being I ever beheld. She had no covering
on her person with the exception of a small piece of dirty cloth round
her loins. Her skin was deeply wrinkled and extremely dirty, with
scarcely any flesh on her bones. Her breasts hung half way down her
body, and she had all the appearance of extreme old age. This ancient
woman was the supposed nurse of the immortal child. The god’s house and
the principal actor in this strange superstition are represented on the
previous page.
“On my entering the yard, the old fetish woman stepped before me,
making the most hideous gestures ever witnessed, and endeavored to
drive me out, that I might be prevented from entering into the god’s
house, but, in spite of all her movements, I pushed her aside, and
forced my way into the house. Its outward appearance was that of a
cone, or extinguisher, standing in the centre of the enclosure. It was
formed by long poles placed triangularly, and thatched with long grass.
Inside it I found a clay bench in the form of a chair. Its tenant was
absent, and the old woman pretended that she had by her magic caused
him to disappear.”
Of course, the plan pursued by the old fetish woman was to borrow a
baby whenever any one of consequence desired an interview, and to
paint it with colored chalks, so that it was no longer recognizable.
She would have played the same trick with Mr. Duncan, and, from the
repeated obstacles thrown in the way of his visit, was evidently trying
to gain time to borrow a baby secretly.
At a Fanti funeral the natives excel themselves in noise making, about
the only exertion in which they seem to take the least interest. As
soon as a man of any note is dead, all his relations and friends
assemble in front of his hut, drink, smoke, yell, sing, and fire
guns continually. A dog is sacrificed before the hut by one of the
relations, though the object of the sacrifice does not seem to be very
clear. Rings, bracelets, and other trinkets are buried with the body,
and, as these ornaments are often of solid gold, the value of buried
jewelry is very considerable. Of course, the graves are sometimes
opened and robbed, when the corpse is that of a wealthy person.
One ingenious Fanti contrived to enrich himself very cleverly. One of
his sisters had been buried for some time with all her jewelry, and, as
the average value of a well-to-do woman’s trinkets is somewhere about
forty or fifty pounds, the affectionate brother thought that those who
buried his sister had been guilty of unjustifiable waste. After a while
his mother died, and he ordered her to be buried in the same grave with
his sister. The ingenious part of the transaction was that the man
declared it to be contrary to filial duty to bury the daughter at the
bottom of the grave, in the place of honor, and to lay the mother above
her. The daughter was accordingly disinterred to give place to the
mother, and when she was again laid in the grave all her trinkets had
somehow or other vanished.
The dances of the Fanti tribe are rather absurd. Two dancers
stand opposite each other, and stamp on the ground with each foot
alternately. The stamping becomes faster and faster, until it is
exchanged for leaping, and at every jump the hands are thrown out with
the fingers upward, so that the four palms meet with a sharp blow. The
couple go on dancing until they fail to strike the hands, and then they
leave off and another pair take their place.
CHAPTER LIV.
THE ASHANTI.
ORIGIN AND GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE ASHANTI -- AN ASHANTI CAPTAIN
AND HIS UNIFORM -- THE GOLD COAST -- GOLD WASHING -- THE “TILIKISSI”
WEIGHTS -- INGENIOUS FRAUDS -- THE CABOCEERS, OR NOBLES OF ASHANTI --
PORTRAIT OF A MOUNTED CABOCEER -- THE HORSE ACCOUTREMENTS -- LAW OF
ROYAL SUCCESSION -- MARRIAGE RESTRICTIONS -- THE YAM AND ADAI CUSTOMS
-- FETISH DRUM AND TRUMPET -- RELIGIOUS SYSTEM OF ASHANTI -- WORSHIP
OF EARTH AND SKY -- FETISHES -- DERIVATION OF THE WORD -- THE “KLA,”
OR FAMILIAR SPIRIT.
Whence the Ashanti tribe came is not very certain, but it is probable
that they formerly inhabited a more inland part of the continent, and
worked their way westward, after the usual fashion of these tribes.
Their traditions state that, about a hundred and fifty years ago, the
Ashanti, with several other tribes, were gradually ousted from their
own lands by the increasing followers of Islam, and that when they
reached a land which was full of gold they took courage, made a bold
stand for freedom, and at last achieved their own independence.
At this time the people were divided into a considerable number of
states--between forty and fifty, according to one historian. After
having driven away their oppressors, they came to quarrel among
themselves, and fought as fiercely for precedence as they had formerly
done for liberty, and at last the Ashanti tribe conquered the others,
and so consolidated the government into a kingdom.
In general appearance, the Ashanti much resemble the Fanti, though
they are not perhaps so strongly built. They are, however, quite as
good-looking, and, according to Mr. Bowdich, the women are handsomer
than those of the Fanti. As a rule, the higher classes are remarkable
for their cleanliness, but the lower are quite as dirty as the
generality of savage Africans.
As a specimen of the remarkable style of costume in which the Ashanti
indulge, a description of an army captain is here introduced. On his
head is a vast double plume of eagles’ feathers, surmounting a sort of
helmet made of rams’ horns, gilt in a spiral pattern, and tied under
his chin by a strap covered with cowries. His bow is slung at his back,
and his quiver of small poisoned arrows hangs from his wrist, while in
his other hand is held an ivory staff, carved in a spiral pattern. His
breast is covered with a vast number of little leathern pouches gilt
and painted in light colors, mostly scarlet, and from his arms hang a
number of horse tails. Great boots of red hide cover his legs to mid
thigh, and are fastened to his belt by iron chains.
This belt is a very curious piece of leather work. One of these
articles is in my collection, and is furnished with the following
implements. First comes a small dagger-knife, with a blade about four
inches long, and next to it is a little circular mirror about as large
as a crown piece, and enclosed in a double case like that which is
now used for prismatic compasses. Then comes a razor, a singularly
primitive-looking specimen of cutlery, mounted in a handle which is
little more than a piece of stick, with a slit in it. Next comes a
leathern pouch about four inches square and one inch in depth, having
its interior lined with coarse canvas, and its exterior decorated with
little round holes punched in the leather, and arranged in a simple
pattern. Lastly comes the razor strop, a very ingenious implement,
consisting of a tube filled with emery powder, and sliding into a
sheath so as to allow the powder to adhere to it. All these articles
are protected by leathern sheaths stained of different colors, and are
suspended by short straps from the belt.
The country where the Ashanti tribes now live is popularly termed the
Gold Coast, on account of the richness with which the precious metal
is scattered over its surface. It is found almost entirely in the form
of dust, and is obtained by a very rude and imperfect mode of washing.
The women are the chief gold washers, and they set about their task
armed with a hoe, a basin-shaped calabash, and several quills. With the
hoe they scrape up a quantity of sand from the bed of some stream, and
place it in the calabash. A quantity of water is then added, and, by a
peculiar rotatory movement of the hand, the water and sand are shaken
up, and made to fly gradually over the top of the basin.
When this movement is adroitly performed, the water and lighter sand
escape from the bowl, while the gold dust sinks by its own weight to
the bottom, and is thus separated, and put in the quills. Much skill
is required in handling the calabash, and one woman will find a fair
supply of gold where another will work all day and scarcely find a
particle of the metal.
Of course, by this rude method of work the quantity of gold obtained
is in very small proportion to the labor bestowed in obtaining it; and
if the natives only knew the use of mercury, they would gain three or
four times as much gold as they do at present. The quills, when filled
with gold dust, are generally fastened to the hair, where they are
supposed to be as ornamental as they are precious. The best time for
gold washing is after violent rains, when the increased rush of water
has brought down a fresh supply of sand from the upper regions. As one
of the old voyagers quaintly remarked, “It raineth seldom, but every
shower of rain is a shower of gold unto them, for with the violence of
the water falling from the mountains it bringeth from them the gold.”
A good gold washer will procure in the course of a year a quantity
of the dust which will purchase two slaves. The average price of a
slave is ten “minkali,” each minkali being worth about 12£. 6_s._;
and being valued in goods at one musket, eighteen gun flints, twenty
charges of powder, one cutlass, and forty-eight leaves of tobacco. The
reader may judge what must be the quality of the musket and cutlass.
Gold is weighed by the little familiar red and black seeds, called
in Western Africa “tilikissi,” and each purchaser always has his own
balances and his own weights. As might be supposed, both vendor and
purchaser try to cheat each other. The gold finder mixes with the real
gold dust inferior sand, made by melting copper and silver together,
or by rubbing together copper filings and red coral powder. If larger
pieces of gold were to be imitated, the usual plan was to make little
nuggets of copper, and surround them with a mere shell of gold. This,
of course, was the most dangerous imposition of the three, because the
gold coating defied the test, and the fraud would not be discovered
unless the nugget were cut in two--rather a tedious process when a
great number were offered for sale.
As to the buyers, there was mostly something wrong about their
balances; while as to the weights, they soaked the tilikissi seeds in
melted butter to make them heavier, and sometimes made sham tilikissis
of pebbles neatly ground down and colored.
In spite of all the drawbacks, the quantity of gold annually found in
Ashanti-land is very great, and it is used by the richer natives in
barbaric profusion. They know or care little about art. Their usual way
of making the bracelets or armlets is this. The smith melts the gold
in a little crucible of red clay, and then draws in the sand a little
furrow into which he runs the gold, so as to make a rude and irregular
bar or stick of metal. When cold, it is hammered along the sides so as
to square them, and is then twisted into the spiral shape which seems
to have instinctively impressed itself on gold workers of all ages and
in all countries.
The collars, earrings, and other ornaments are made in this simple
manner, and the wife of a chief would scarcely think herself dressed if
she had not gold ornaments worth some eighty pounds. The great nobles,
or Caboceers, wear on state occasions bracelets of such weight that
they are obliged to rest their arms on the heads of little slave boys,
who stand in front of them.
The Caboceers are very important personages, and in point of fact were
on the eve of becoming to the Ashanti kingdom what the barons were to
the English kingdom in the time of John. Indeed, they were gradually
becoming so powerful and so numerous, that for many years the king of
Ashanti has steadily pursued a policy of repression, and, when one of
the Caboceers died, has refused to acknowledge a successor. The result
of this wise policy is, that the Caboceers are now comparatively few in
number, and even if they were all to combine against the king he could
easily repress them.
An umbrella is the distinctive mark of the Caboceers, who, in the
present day, exhibit an odd mixture of original savagery and partially
acquired civilization. The Caboceers have the great privilege of
sitting on stools when in the presence of the king. Moreover, “these
men,” says Mr. W. Reade, “would be surrounded by their household
suites, like the feudal lords of ancient days; their garments of costly
foreign silks unravelled and woven anew into elaborate patterns, and
thrown over the shoulder like the Roman toga, leaving the right arm
bare; a silk fillet encircling the temples; Moorish charms, enclosed
in small cases of gold and silver, suspended on their breasts, with
necklaces made of ‘aggry beads,’ a peculiar stone found in the country,
and resembling the ‘glein-ndyr’ of the ancient Britons; lumps of gold
hanging from their wrists; while handsome girls would stand behind
holding silver basins in their hands.”
An illustration on page 564 represents a Caboceer at the head of his
wild soldiery, and well indicates the strange mixture of barbarity and
culture which distinguishes this as well as other West African tribes.
It will be seen from his seat that he is no very great horseman, and,
indeed, the Caboceers are mostly held on their horses by two men, one
on each side. When Mr. Duncan visited Western Africa, and mounted his
horse to show the king how the English dragoons rode and fought, two
of the retainers ran to his side, and passed their arms round him. It
was not without some difficulty that he could make them understand that
Englishmen rode without such assistance. The Caboceer’s dress consists
of an ornamental turban, a jacket, and a loin cloth, mostly of white,
and so disposed as to leave the middle of the body bare. On his feet he
wears a remarkable sort of spur, the part which answers to the rowel
being flat, squared, and rather deeply notched. It is used by striking
or scoring the horse with the sharp angles, and not by the slight
pricking movement with which an English jockey uses his spurs. The
rowels, to use the analogous term, pass through a slit in an oval piece
of leather, which aids in binding the spur on the heel. A pair of these
curious spurs are now in my collection, and were presented by Dr. R.
Irvine, R. N.
His weapons consist of the spear, bow, and arrows--the latter being
mostly poisoned, and furnished with nasty-looking barbs extending
for several inches below the head. The horse is almost hidden by its
accoutrements, which are wonderfully like those of the knights of
chivalry, save that instead of the brilliant emblazonings with which
the housings of the chargers were covered, sentences from the Koran are
substituted, and are scattered over the entire cloth. The headstall of
the horse is made of leather, and, following the usual African fashion,
is cut into a vast number of thongs.
One of these headstalls and the hat of the rider are in my collection.
They are both made of leather, most carefully and elaborately worked.
The hat or helmet is covered with flat, quadrangular ornaments also
made of leather, folded and beaten until it is nearly as hard as wood,
and from each of them depend six or seven leather thongs, so that, when
the cap is placed on the head, the thongs descend as far as the mouth,
and answer as a veil. The headstall of the horse is a most elaborate
piece of workmanship, the leather being stamped out in bold and
rather artistic patterns, and decorated with three circular leathern
ornaments, in which a star-shaped pattern has been neatly worked in
red, black, and white. Five tassels of leathern thongs hang from it,
and are probably used as a means of keeping off the flies.
The common soldiers are, as may be seen, quite destitute of uniform,
and almost of clothing. They wear several knives and daggers attached
to a necklace, and they carry any weapons that they may be able to
procure--guns if possible; and, in default of fire-arms, using bows and
spears. Two of the petty officers are seen blowing their huge trumpets,
which are simply elephant tusks hollowed and polished, and sometimes
carved with various patterns. They are blown from the side, as is the
case with African wind instruments generally.
In Ashanti, as in other parts of Africa, the royal succession never
lies in the direct line, but passes to the brother or nephew of the
deceased monarch, the nephew in question being the son of the king’s
sister, and not his brother. The reason for this arrangement is, that
the people are sure that their future king has some royal blood in his
veins, whereas, according to their ideas, no one can be quite certain
that the son of the queen is also the son of the king, and, as the
king’s wives are never of royal blood, they might have a mere plebeian
claimant to the throne. Therefore the son of the king’s sister is
always chosen; and it is a curious fact that the sister in question
need not be married, provided that the father of her child be strong,
good-looking, and of tolerable position in life.
In Ashanti the king is restricted in the number of his wives. But, as
the prohibition fixes the magic number of three thousand three hundred
and thirty-three, he has not much to complain of with regard to the
stringency of the law. Of course, with the exception of a chosen few,
these wives are practically servants, and do all the work about the
fields and houses.
The natives have their legend about gold. They say that when the Great
Spirit first created man, he made one black man and one white one, and
gave them their choice of two gifts. One contained all the treasures of
the tropics--the fruitful trees, the fertile soil, the warm sun, and a
calabash of gold dust. The other gift was simply a quantity of white
paper, ink, and pens. The former gift, of course, denoted material
advantages, and the latter knowledge. The black man chose the former
as being the most obvious, and the white man the latter. Hence the
superiority of the white over the black.
[Illustration: WAR KNIVES. (See page 531.)]
[Illustration: FETISH TRUMPET AND DRUM. (See page 559.)]
[Illustration: IVORY TRUMPETS. (See page 577.)
The right hand trumpet has a crucified figure on it.]
[Illustration: WAR DRUM. (See page 572.)]
Conceding to the white man all the advantages which he gains from his
wisdom, they are very jealous of their own advantages, and resent
all attempts of foreigners to work their mines; if mines they can be
called, where scarcely any subterraneous work is needed. They will
rather allow the precious metal to be wasted than permit the white man
to procure it. As to the mulatto, they have the most intense contempt
for him, who is a “white-black man, silver and copper, and not gold.”
It has already been mentioned that more stress will be laid upon Dahome
than Ashanti, and that in cases where manners and customs are common to
both kingdoms, they will be described in connection with the latter.
In both kingdoms, for example, we find the terrible “Customs,” or
sacrifice of human life, and in Ashanti these may be reduced to two,
namely, the Yam and the Adai.
The former, which is the greater of the two, occurs in the beginning
of September, when the yams are ripe. Before the yams are allowed to
be used for general consumption, the “Custom” is celebrated; _i. e._ a
number of human beings are sacrificed with sundry rites and ceremonies.
There are lesser sacrifices on the Adai Custom, which take place
every three weeks, and the destruction of human life is terrible. The
sacrifices are attended with the horrible music which in all countries
where human sacrifices have been permitted has been its accompaniment.
On page 558, a Fetish drum and trumpet, both of which are in my
collection, are illustrated, two of the instruments which are used as
accompaniments to the sacrifice of human beings. The drum is carved
with enormous perseverance out of a solid block of wood, and in its
general form presents a most singular resemblance to the bicephalous or
two-headed gems of the Gnostics. The attentive reader will notice the
remarkable ingenuity with which the head of a man is combined with that
of a bird, the latter being kept subservient to the former, and yet
having a bold and distinct individuality of its own.
From the top of the united heads rises the drum itself, which is
hollowed out of the same block of wood. The parchment head of the
drum is secured to the instrument by a number of wooden pegs, and it
is probable that the heat of the meridian sun was quite sufficient to
tighten the head of the drum whenever it became relaxed. Of course,
the plan of tightening it by means of a movable head is not known in
Western Africa, and, even if it were known, it would not be practised.
The natives never modify a custom. They exchange it for another, or
they abolish it, but the reforming spirit never existed in the negro
mind.
On the side of the drum may be seen the air-hole, which is usually
found in African drums, and which is closed with a piece of spider web
when the instrument is used. Sometimes the drums are of enormous size,
the entire trunk of a tree being hollowed out for the purpose. The
skin which forms the head is mostly that of an antelope, but when the
Ashanti wants a drum to be very powerful against strange fetishes, he
makes the head of snake or crocodile skin.
The former material holds a high place in the second instrument, which
is a fetish trumpet. As is the case with all African trumpets, it is
blown, flute-fashion, from the side, and not, like an European trumpet,
from the end. It is made from the tusk of an elephant, carefully
hollowed out, and furnished with a curious apparatus, much like the
vibrator in a modern harmonium or accordion. As the instrument has
sustained rather rough treatment, and the ivory has been cracked here
and there, it is impossible to produce a sound from it; and at the best
the notes must have been of a very insignificant character, deadened
as they must be by the snake-skin covering. The skin in question is
that of a boa or python, which is a very powerful fetish among all
Africans among whom the boa lives, and it covers almost the whole of
the instrument.
A most weird and uncanny sort of look is communicated to the trumpet
by the horrid trophy which is tied to it. This is the upper jaw of a
human being, evidently a negro, by its peculiar development, the jaw
being of the prognathous character, and the projecting teeth in the
finest possible order. From the mere existence of these sacrifices it
is evident that the religious system of the Ashanti must be of a very
low character. They are not utter atheists, as is the case with some of
the tribes which have already been mentioned; but they cannot be said
even to have risen to deism, and barely to idolatry, their ideas of
the Supreme Deity being exceedingly vague, and mixed up with a host of
superstitious notions about demons, both good and evil, to whom they
give the name of Wodsi, and which certainly absorb the greater part of
their devotions and the whole of their reverence, the latter quality
being with them the mere outbirth of fear.
Their name for God is “Nyonmo,” evidently a modification of Nyamye,
the title which is given to the Supreme Spirit by the Cammas and other
tribes of the Rembo. But Nyonmo also means the sky, or the rain, or the
thunder, probably because they proceed from the sky, and they explain
thunder by the phrase that Nyonmo is knocking. As the sky is venerated
as one deity, so the earth is considered as another though inferior
deity, which is worshipped under the name of “Sikpois.”
As to the Wodsi, they seem to be divided into various ranks. For
example, the earth, the air, and the sea are Wodsi which exercise
their influence over all men; whereas other Wodsi, which are visible
in the forms of trees or rivers, have a restricted power over towns,
districts, or individuals.
The scrap of rag, leopards’ claws, sacred chains, peculiar beads,
bits of bone, bird-beaks, &c., which are worn by the Wontse, or
fetish men, have a rather curious use, which is well explained by the
“F.R.G.S.”:--“The West Africans, like their brethren in the East, have
evil ghosts and haunting _evastra_, which work themselves into the
position of demons. Their various rites are intended to avert the harm
which may be done to them by their Pepos or Mulungos, and perhaps to
shift it upon their enemies. When the critical moment has arrived, the
ghost is adjured by the fetish man to come forth from the possessed,
and an article is named--a leopard’s claw, peculiar beads, or a rag
from the sick man’s body nailed to what Europeans call the ‘Devil’s
tree’--in which, if worn about the person, the haunter will reside. It
is technically called Kehi, or Keti, _i. e._ a chair or a stool. The
word ‘fetish,’ by the way, is a corruption of the Portuguese Fei-tiço,
_i. e._ witchcraft, or conjuring.”
Their belief respecting the Kra, or Kla, or soul of a man, is very
peculiar. They believe that the Kla exists before the body, and that
it is transmitted from one to another. Thus, if a child dies, the next
is supposed to be the same child born again into the world; and so
thoroughly do they believe this, that when a woman finds that she is
about to become a mother, she goes to the fetish man, and requests him
to ask the Kla of her future child respecting its ancestry and intended
career. But the Kla has another office; for it is supposed to be in
some sort distinct from the man, and, like the demon of Socrates, to
give him advice, and is a kind of small Wodsi, capable of receiving
offerings. The Kla is also dual, male and female; the former urging the
man to evil, and the latter to good.
CHAPTER LV.
DAHOME.
CHARACTERISTIC OF THE WESTERN AFRICAN -- LOCALITY OF DAHOME -- THE
FIVE DISTRICTS -- DAHOMAN ARCHITECTURE -- “SWISH” HOUSES -- THE
VULTURE AND HIS FOOD -- THE LEGBA -- SNAKE WORSHIP IN DAHOME --
PUNISHMENT OF A SNAKE KILLER -- ETIQUETTE AT COURT -- JOURNEY OF A
MAN OF RANK TO THE CAPITAL -- AFRICAN HAMMOCK -- SIGNIFICATION OF THE
WORD DAHOME -- CEREMONIES ON THE JOURNEY -- KANA, OR CANANINA, THE
“COUNTRY CAPITAL” -- BEAUTY OF THE SCENERY -- THE OYOS AND GOZO’S
CUSTOM -- APPROACH TO KANA -- A GHASTLY ORNAMENT -- “THE BELL COMES”
-- THE AMAZONS -- THEIR FEROCITY AND COURAGE -- THEIR WAR TROPHIES
AND WEAPONS -- REVIEW OF THE AMAZONS -- ORGANIZATION OF THE FORCES.
There is a very remarkable point about the true negro of Western
Africa, namely, the use which he has made of his contact with
civilization. It might be imagined that he would have raised himself in
the social scale by his frequent intercourse with men wiser and more
powerful than himself, and who, if perhaps they may not have been much
better in a moral point of view, could not possibly have been worse.
But he has done nothing of the kind, and, instead of giving up his old
barbarous customs, has only increased their barbarity by the additional
means which he has obtained from the white man.
Exchanging the bow and arrows for the gun, and the club for the sword,
he has employed his better weapons in increasing his destructive
powers, and has chiefly used them in fighting and selling into slavery
those whom he had previously fought, and who respected him as long as
the arms on both sides were equal. And the strangest thing is that,
even considering his captives as so much property, the only excuse
which could be found for the savage cruelty with which he makes raids
on every town which he thinks he can conquer, he has not yet learned
to abolish the dreadful “custom” of human sacrifices, although each
prisoner or criminal killed is a dead loss to him.
* * * * *
We now come to one of the strangest kingdoms on the face of the earth,
that of Dahome; a kingdom begun in blood and cruelty, and having
maintained its existence of more than two centuries in spite of the
terrible scenes continually enacted--scenes which would drive almost
any other nation to revolt. But the fearful sacrifices for which the
name of Dahome has been so long infamous are not merely the offspring
of a despotic king’s fancy; they are sanctioned, and even forced upon
him, by his people--fit subjects of such a king.
It is situated in that part of Africa commonly known as the Slave
Coast, as distinguished from the Gold, Ivory, and Grain Coasts, and its
shores are washed by the waters of the Bight of Benin. Dahome alone, of
the four great slave kingdoms, Ashanti, Yomba, Benin, and Dahome, has
retained its power, and, to the eye of an experienced observer, even
Dahome, which has outlived the three, will speedily follow them.
On its coast are the two celebrated ports, Lagos and Whydah, which
have for so long been the outlets by which the slaves captured in the
interior were sent on board the ships. Lagos, however, has been already
ceded to England, and, under a better management, will probably become
one of the great ports at which a legitimate trade can be carried on,
and which will become one of the blessings instead of the curses of
Western Africa.
Whydah, being one of the towns through which a traveller is sure to
pass in going into the interior of Dahome, is worth a passing notice.
Captain Burton, from whom the greater part of our knowledge of this
strange land is derived, states that the very name is a misnomer. In
the first place, we have attributed it to the wrong spot, and in the
next we have given it a most corrupted title. The place which we call
Whydah is known to the people as Gre-hwe (Plantation House), while
the real Hwe-dah--as the word ought to be spelt--belongs rightly to a
little kingdom whose capital was Savi.
Originally a port belonging to the king of Savi, and given up entirely
to piracy, it passed into the hands of Agaja, king of Dahome, who
easily found an excuse for attacking a place which was so valuable as
giving him a direct communication from the interior to the sea, without
the intervention of middle-men, who each take a heavy percentage from
all goods that pass through their district. From 1725, when it thus
passed into Dahoman hands, it rapidly increased in size and importance.
Now it presents an extraordinary mixture of native and imported
masters, and we will endeavor to cast a rapid glance at the former.
The place is divided into five districts, each governed by its own
Caboceer; and it is a notable fact, that nowadays a Caboceer need not
be a native. The post of Caboceer of the Soglaji, or English quarter,
was offered to Captain Burton, who, however could not be tempted to
accept it even by the umbrella of rank--equal to the blue ribbon of our
own system.
At the entrance of every town there is the De-sum, or Custom-house, and
close by it are a number of little fetish houses, wherein the trader is
supposed to return his thanks to the propitiating demons. The streets
are formed by the walls of enclosures and the backs of houses; and,
as Dahoman architecture is regulated by law, a very uniform effect is
obtained. The walls are mud, popularly called “swish,” sometimes mixed
with oyster-shells to strengthen it, and built up in regular courses,
each about two feet and a half in thickness. By law, no walls are
allowed to be more than four courses high.
The hot sun soon bakes the mud into the consistence of soft brick;
and, were it not for the fierce rains of the tropics, it would be very
lasting. As it is, the rainy season is very destructive to walls, and
the early part of the dry season is always a busy time with native
architects, who are engaged in repairing the damages caused by the
rains. There is a small amount of salt in the mud, which increases
the liability to damage. On the Gold Coast the natives ingeniously
strengthen the swish walls by growing cactus plants; but the negroes of
Dahome neglect this precaution, and consequently give themselves--as
lazy people proverbially do--a vast amount of needless trouble. There
are no windows to the houses; but the roofs, made of grass and leaves
fastened on a light framework, are made so that they can be partially
raised from the walls, like the “fly” of a tent.
In spite of the presence of localized Christian missions, and the
continual contact of Islamism, the system of fetishism is rampant in
Whydah. No human sacrifices take place there, all the victims being
forwarded to the capital for execution. But, according to Captain
Burton, “even in the bazaar many a hut will be girt round with the Zo
Vodun, a country rope with dead leaves dangling from it at spaces of
twenty feet. (Zo Vodun signifies fire-fetish.)
“_After_ a conflagration, this fetish fire-prophylactic becomes almost
universal. Opposite the house gates, again, we find the Vo-siva
defending the inmates from harm. It is of many shapes, especially a
stick or a pole, with an empty old calabash for a head, and a body
composed of grass, thatch, palm leaves, fowls’ feathers, achatina
shells. These people must deem lightly of an influence that can
mistake, even in the dark, such a scarecrow for a human being.
“Near almost every door stands the Legba-gbau, or Legba-pot, by
Europeans commonly called the ‘Devil’s dish.’ It is a common clay
shard article, either whole or broken, and every morning and evening
it is filled, generally by women, with cooked maize and palm oil, for
the benefit of the turkey buzzard. ‘Akrasu,’ the vulture, is, next to
the snake, the happiest animal in Dahome. He has always abundance of
food, like storks, robins, swallows, crows, adjutant-cranes, and other
holy birds in different parts of the world. Travellers abuse this
‘obscene fowl,’ forgetting that without it the towns of Yoruba would be
uninhabitable.... The turkey-buzzard perched on the topmost stick of a
blasted calabash tree is to the unromantic natives of Africa what the
pea fowl is to more engaging Asians. It always struck me as the most
appropriate emblem and heraldic bearing for decayed Dahome.”
The Legba, or idol to whom the fowl is sacred, is an abominable image,
rudely moulded out of clay, and represented in a squatting attitude.
Sometimes Legba’s head is of wood, with eyes and teeth made of cowries,
or else painted white. Legba is mostly a male deity, rarely a female,
and the chief object of the idol maker seems to be that the worshipper
shall have no doubt on the subject. Legba sits in a little hut open at
the sides; and, as no one takes care of him, and no one dares to meddle
with him, the country is full of these queer little temples, inside
which the god is sometimes seen in tolerable preservation, but in most
cases has sunk into a mere heap of mud and dust. Some of these wooden
Legbas may be seen on the 552nd page, but they are purposely selected
on account of the exceptional delicacy displayed by the carver.
[Illustration: (1.) CABOCEER AND SOLDIERS. (See page 556.)]
[Illustration: (2.) PUNISHMENT OF A SNAKE KILLER. (See page 565.)]
Snakes are fetish throughout Dahome, and are protected by the
severest laws. All serpents are highly venerated, but there is one in
particular, a harmless snake called the “Danhgbwe,” which is held in
the most absurd reverence. It is of moderate size, reaching some five
or six feet in length, and is rather delicately colored with brown,
yellow, and white. The Danhgbwe is kept tame in fetish houses, and,
if one of them should stray, it is carefully restored by the man who
finds it, and who grovels on the ground and covers himself with dust
before he touches it, as he would in the presence of a king. Formerly
the penalty for killing one of these snakes was death, but it is
now commuted for a punishment which, although very severe, is not
necessarily fatal to the sufferer. It partakes of the mixture of the
horrible and the grotesque which is so characteristic of this land. Mr.
Duncan saw three men undergo this punishment. Three small houses were
built of dry sticks, and thatched with dry grass. The culprits were
then placed in front of the houses by the fetish man, who made a long
speech to the spectators, and explained the enormity of the offence of
which they had been guilty.
They then proceeded to tie on the shoulders of each culprit a dog, a
kid, and two fowls. A quantity of palm oil was poured over them, and on
their heads were balanced baskets, containing little open calabashes
filled with the same material, so that at the least movement the
calabashes were upset, and the oil ran all over the head and body. They
were next marched round the little houses, and, lastly, forced to crawl
into them, the dog, kid, and fowls being taken off their shoulders and
thrust into the house with them. The doors being shut, a large mob
assembles with sticks and clods, and surrounds the house. The houses
are then fired, the dry material blazing up like gunpowder, and the
wretched inmates burst their way through the flaming walls and roof,
and rush to the nearest running stream, followed by the crowd, who beat
and pelt them unmercifully. If they can reach the water, they are safe,
and should they be men of any consequence they have little to fear, as
their friends surround them, and keep off the crowd until the water is
reached.
The whole of the proceedings are shown in the illustration on the
previous page.
In the distance is seen one of the culprits being taken to his fetish
house, the basket of calabashes on his head, and the animals slung
round his neck. Another is seen creeping into the house, near which the
fetish man is standing, holding dead snakes in his hands, and horrible
to look at by reason of the paint with which he has covered his
face. In the foreground is another criminal rushing toward the water,
just about to plunge into it and extinguish the flames that are still
playing about his oil-saturated hair and have nearly burned off all his
scanty clothing. The blazing hut is seen behind him, and around are the
spectators, pelting and striking him, while his personal friends are
checking them, and keeping the way clear toward the water.
We will now leave Whydah, and proceed toward the capital.
When a person of rank wishes to pay his respects to the king, the
latter sends some of his officers, bearing, as an emblem of their rank,
the shark-stick, _i. e._ a kind of tomahawk about two feet long, carved
at the end into a rude semblance of the shark, another image of the
same fish being made out of a silver dollar beaten flat and nailed to
the end of the handle. One of the officers will probably have the lion
stick as _his_ emblem of the trust reposed in him; but to unpractised
eyes the lions carved on the stick would answer equally well for the
shark, and both would do well as “crocodile” sticks, the shapes of the
animals being purely conventional.
The mode of travelling is generally in hammocks, made of cotton cloth,
but sometimes formed of silk: these latter are very gaudy affairs.
The average size of a hammock is nine feet by five, and the ends are
lashed to a pole some nine or ten feet in length. Upon the pole is
fixed a slight framework, which supports an awning as a defence against
the sun. The pole is carried not on the shoulders but the heads of
the bearers, and, owing to their awkwardness and rough movements, an
inexperienced traveller gets his head knocked against the pole with
considerable violence. Two men carry it, but each hammock requires a
set of seven men, some to act as relays, and others to help in getting
the vehicle over a rough part of the road. Each man expects a glass
of rum morning and evening, and, as he is able to make an unpopular
master very uncomfortable, it is better to yield to the general custom,
especially as rum is only threepence per pint.
Being now fairly in the midst of Dahome, let us see what is the meaning
of the name. Somewhere about A. D. 1620, an old king died and left
three sons. The oldest took his father’s kingdom, and the youngest,
Dako by name (some writers call him Tacudona), went abroad to seek his
fortune, and settled at a place not far from Agbome. By degrees Dako
became more and more powerful, and was continually encroaching upon the
country belonging to a neighboring king called Danh, _i. e._ the Snake,
or Rainbow. As the number of his followers increased, Dako pestered
Danh for more and more land for them, until at last the king lost
patience, and said to the pertinacious mendicant, “Soon thou wilt build
in my belly.” Dako thought that this idea was not a bad one, and when
he had collected sufficient warriors, he attacked Danh, killed him,
took possession of his kingdom, and built a new palace over his corpse,
thus literally and deliberately fulfilling the prediction made in haste
and anger by his conquered foe. In honor of his victory, the conquerer
called the place Danh-ome, or Danh’s-belly. The “n” in this word is a
nasal sound unknown to English ears, and the word is best pronounced
Dah-ome, as a dissyllable.
The great neighboring kingdom of Allada was friendly with Dahome for
nearly a hundred years, when they fell out, fought, and Dahome again
proved victorious, so that Allada allowed itself to be incorporated
with Dahome.
It was a little beyond Allada where Captain Burton first saw some of
the celebrated Amazons, or female soldiers, who will be presently
described, and here began the strange series of ceremonies, far too
numerous to be separately described, which accompanied the progress of
so important a visitor to the capital. A mere slight outline will be
given of them.
At every village that was passed a dance was performed, which the
travellers were expected to witness. All the dances being exactly
alike, and consisting of writhings of the body and stamping with the
feet, they soon became very monotonous, but had to be endured. At a
place called Aquine a body of warriors rushed tumultuously into the
cleared space of the village under its centre tree. They were about
eighty in number, and were formed four deep. Headed by a sort of
flag, and accompanied by the inevitable drum, they came on at full
speed, singing at the top of their voices, and performing various
agile antics. After circling round the tree, they all fell flat on the
ground, beat up the dust with their hands, and flung it over their
bodies. This is the royal salute of Western Africa, and was performed
in honor of the king’s canes of office, which he had sent by their
bearers, accompanied by the great ornament of his court, an old liquor
case, covered with a white cloth, and borne on a boy’s head. From this
case were produced bottles of water, wine, gin, and rum, of each of
which the visitors were expected to drink three times, according to
etiquette.
After this ceremony had been completed, the escort, as these men proved
to be, preceded the party to the capital, dancing and capering the
whole way. After several halts, the party arrived within sight of Kana,
the country capital. “It is distinctly Dahome, and here the traveller
expects to look upon the scenes of barbaric splendor of which all the
world has read. And it has its own beauty; a French traveller has
compared it with the loveliest villages of fair Provence, while to Mr.
Duncan it suggested ‘a vast pleasure ground, not unlike some parts of
the Great Park at Windsor.’
“After impervious but sombre forest, grass-barrens, and the dismal
swamps of the path, the eye revels in these open plateaux; their
seducing aspect is enhanced by scattered plantations of a leek-green
studding the slopes, by a background of gigantic forest dwarfing
the nearer palm files, by homesteads buried in cultivation, and by
calabashes and cotton trees vast as the view, tempering the fiery
summer to their subject growths, and in winter collecting the rains,
which would otherwise bare the newly-buried seed. Nor is animal life
wanting. The turkey buzzard, the kite, and the kestrel soar in the
upper heights; the brightest fly-catchers flit through the lower
strata; the little gray squirrel nimbly climbs his lofty home; and a
fine large spur-fowl rises from the plantations of maize and cassava.”
As is usual with African names, the word Kana has been spelled in
a different way by almost every traveller and every writer on the
subject. Some call it Canna, or Cannah, or Carnah, while others write
the word as Calmina, evidently a corruption of Kana-mina, the “mina”
being an addition. All the people between the Little Popo and Acua
are called Mina. We shall, however, be quite safe, if throughout
our account of Western Africa we accept the orthography of Captain
Burton. Kana was seized about 1818 by King Gozo, who liked the place,
and so made it his country capital--much as Brighton was to England
in the days of the Regency. He drove out the fierce and warlike Oyos
(pronounced Aw-yaws), and in celebration of so important a victory
instituted an annual “Custom,” _i. e._ a human sacrifice, in which the
victims are dressed like the conquered Oyos.
This is called Gozo’s Custom, and, although the details are not
precisely known, its general tenor may be ascertained from the
following facts. One traveller, who visited Kana in 1863, saw eleven
platforms on poles about forty feet high. On each platform was the dead
body of a man in an erect position, well dressed in the peasant style,
and having in his hand a calabash containing oil, grain, or other
product of the land. One of them was set up as if leading a sheep.
When Mr. Duncan visited Kana, or Cananina, as he calls it, he saw
relics of this “Custom.” The walls of the place, which were of very
great extent, were covered with human skulls placed about thirty feet
apart, and upon a pole was the body of a man in an upright position,
holding a basket on his head with both his arms. A little further on
were the bodies of two other men, hung by their feet from a sort of
gallows, about twenty feet high. They had been in that position about
two months, and were hardly recognizable as human beings, and in fact
must have presented as repulsive an appearance as the bodies hung in
chains, or the heads on Temple Bar. Two more bodies were hung in a
similar manner in the market-place, and Mr. Duncan was informed that
they were criminals executed for intrigues with the king’s wives.
At Kana is seen the first intimation of the presence of royalty. A
small stream runs by it, and supplies Kana with water. At daybreak the
women slaves of the palace are released from the durance in which they
are kept during the night, and sent off to fetch water for the palace.
They are not fighting women or Amazons, as they are generally called;
but the slaves of the Amazons, each of these women having at least one
female slave, and some as many as fifty.
The very fact, however, that they are servants of the Amazons, who are
the servants of the king, confers on them a sort of dignity which they
are not slow to assert. No man is allowed to look at them, much less
to address them, and in consequence, when the women go to fetch water,
they are headed by one of their number carrying a rude bell suspended
to the neck. When the leader sees a man in the distance, she shakes the
bell vigorously, and calls out, “Gan-ja,” _i. e._ “the bell comes.”
As soon as the tinkle of the bell or the cry reaches the ears of any
men who happen to be on the road, they immediately run to the nearest
footpath, of which a number are considerately made, leading into the
woods, turn their backs, and wait patiently until the long file of
women has passed. This hurrying of men to the right and left, hiding
their faces in the bushes and brakes, is admirably represented on the
569th page.
They had need to escape as fast as they can, for if even one of the
water-pots should happen to be broken, the nearest man would inevitably
be accused of having frightened the woman who carried it, and would
almost certainly be sold into slavery, together with his wife and
family.
As might be expected, the attendants at the palace are very proud of
this privilege, and the uglier, the older, and the lower they are,
the more perseveringly do they ring the bell and utter the dreaded
shout, “Gan-ja.” The oddest thing is that even the lowest of the male
slaves employed in the palace assume the same privilege, and insist on
occupying the road and driving all other travellers into the by-paths.
“This,” says Captain Burton, “is one of the greatest nuisances in
Dahome. It continues through the day. In some parts, as around the
palace, half a mile an hour would be full speed, and to make way for
these animals of burthen, bought perhaps for a few pence, is, to say
the least of it, by no means decorous.”
The town of Kana has in itself few elements of beauty, however
picturesque may be the surrounding scenery. It occupies about three
miles of ground, and is composed primarily of the palace, and secondly
of a number of houses scattered round it, set closely near the king’s
residence, and becoming more and more scattered in proportion to their
distance from it. Captain Burton estimates the population at 4,000. The
houses are built of a red sandy clay.
The palace walls, which are of great extent, are surrounded by a
cheerful adornment in the shape of human skulls, which are placed on
the top at intervals of thirty feet or so, and striking, as it were,
the key note to the Dahoman character. In no place in the world is
human life sacrificed with such prodigality and with such ostentation.
In most countries, after a criminal is executed, the body is allowed
to be buried, or, at the most, is thrown to the beasts and the birds.
In Dahome the skull of the victim is cleansed, and used as an ornament
of some building, or as an appendage to the court and its precincts.
Consequently, the one object which strikes the eye of a traveller is
the human skull. The walls are edged with skulls, skulls are heaped in
dishes before the king, skulls are stuck on the tops of poles, skulls
are used as the heads of banner staves, skulls are tied to dancers, and
all the temples, or Ju-ju houses, are almost entirely built of human
skulls. How they come to be in such profusion we shall see presently.
Horrible and repulsive as this system is, we ought to remember that
even in England, in an age when art and literature were held in the
highest estimation, the quartered bodies of persons executed for high
treason were exposed on the gates of the principal cities, and that
in the very heart of the capital their heads were exhibited up to a
comparatively recent date. This practice, though not of so wholesale
a character as the “Custom” of Dahome, was yet identical with it in
spirit.
* * * * *
As the Amazons, or female soldiers, have been mentioned, they will be
here briefly described. This celebrated force consists wholly of women,
officers as well as privates. They hold a high position at court, and,
as has already been mentioned, are of such importance that each Amazon
possesses at least one slave. In their own country they are called
by two names, Akho-si, _i. e._ the King’s wives, and Mi-no, _i. e._
our mothers; the first name being given to them on the _lucus a non
lucendo_ principle, because they are not allowed to be the wives of any
man, and the second being used as the conventional title of respect.
The real wives of the king do not bear arms, and though he sometimes
does take a fancy to one of his women soldiers, she may not assume the
position of a regular wife.
About one-third of the Amazons have been married, but the rest are
unmarried maidens. Of course it is needful that such a body should
observe strict celibacy, if their efficiency is to be maintained, and
especial pains are taken to insure this object. In the first place, the
strictest possible watch is kept over them, and, in the second, the
power of superstition is invoked. At one of the palace gates, called
significantly Agbodewe, _i. e._ the Discovery Gate, is placed a potent
fetish, who watches over the conduct of the Amazons, and invariably
discovers the soldier who breaks the most important of the military
laws. The Amazons are so afraid of this fetish, that when one of them
has transgressed she has been known to confess her fault, and to give
up the name of her partner in crime, even with the knowledge that
he will die a cruel death, and that she will be severely punished,
and probably be executed by her fellow-soldiers. Besides, there is a
powerful _esprit de corps_ reigning among the Amazons, who are fond of
boasting that they are not women, but men.
They certainly look as if they were, being, as a rule, more masculine
in appearance than the male soldiers, tall, muscular, and possessed
of unflinching courage and ruthless cruelty. To help the reader to a
clearer idea of this stalwart and formidable soldiery, two full-length
portraits are given on the next page. Bloodthirsty and savage as are
the Dahomans naturally, the Amazons take the lead in both qualities,
seeming to avenge themselves, as it were, for the privations to which
they are doomed. The spinster soldiers are women who have been selected
by the king from the families of his subjects, he having the choice
of them when they arrive at marriageable age; and the once married
soldiers are women who have been detected in infidelity, and are
enlisted instead of executed, or wives who are too vixenish toward
their husbands, and so are appropriately drafted into the army, where
their combative dispositions may find a more legitimate object.
In order to increase their bloodthirsty spirit, and inspire a feeling
of emulation, those who have killed an enemy are allowed to exhibit a
symbol of their prowess. They remove the scalp, and preserve it for
exhibition on all reviews and grand occasions. They have also another
decoration, equivalent to the Victoria Cross of England, namely, a
cowrie shell fastened to the butt of the musket. After the battle is
over, the victorious Amazon smears part of the rifle butt with the
blood of the fallen enemy, and just before it dries spreads another
layer. This is done until a thick, soft paste is formed, into which
the cowrie is pressed. The musket is then laid in the sun, and when
properly dry the shell is firmly glued to the weapon.
The possession of this trophy is eagerly coveted by the Amazons,
and, after a battle, those who have not slain an enemy with their
own hand are half-maddened with envious jealousy when they see their
more successful sisters assuming the coveted decoration. One cowrie
is allowed for each dead man, and some of the boldest and fiercest of
the Amazons have their musket butts completely covered with cowries
arranged in circles, stars, and similar patterns.
The dress of the Amazons varies slightly according to the position
which they occupy. The ordinary uniform is a blue and white tunic of
native cloth, but made without sleeves, so as to allow full freedom to
the arms. Under this is a sort of shirt or kilt, reaching below the
knees, and below the shirt the soldier wears a pair of short linen
trousers. Round the waist is girded the ammunition-belt, which is made
exactly on the same principle as the bandolier of the Middle Ages.
It consists of some thirty hollow wooden cylinders sticking into a
leathern belt, each cylinder containing one charge of powder. When they
load their guns, the Amazons merely pour the powder down the barrel,
and ram the bullet after it, without taking the trouble to introduce
wadding of any description, so that the force of the powder is much
wasted, and the direction of the bullet very uncertain. Partly owing
to the great windage caused by the careless loading and badly fitting
balls, and partly on account of the inferiority of the powder, the
charges are twice as large as would be required by a European soldier.
Captain Burton rightly stigmatizes the existence of such an army as an
unmixed evil, and states that it is one of the causes which will one
day cause the kingdom of Dahome to be obliterated from the earth. “The
object of Dahoman wars and invasions has always been to lay waste and
to destroy, not to aggrandize.
“As the history puts it, the rulers have ever followed the example of
Agaja, the second founder of the kingdom; aiming at conquest and at
striking terror, rather than at accretion and consolidation. Hence
there has been a decrease of population with an increase of territory,
which is to nations the surest road to ruin. In the present day the
wars have dwindled to mere slave hunts--a fact it is well to remember.
“The warrior troops, assumed to number 2,500, should represent 7,500
children; the waste of reproduction and the necessary casualties of
‘service’ in a region so depopulated are as detrimental to the body
politic as a proportionate loss of blood would be to the body personal.
Thus the land is desert, and the raw material of all industry, man, is
everywhere wanting.”
[Illustration: (1.) “THE BELL COMES.” (See page 567.)]
[Illustration: (2.) DAHOMAN AMAZONS. (See page 568.)]
Fierce, cruel, relentless, deprived by severe laws of all social
ties, the women soldiers of Dahome are the only real fighters,
the men soldiers being comparatively feeble and useless. They are
badly and miscellaneously armed, some having trade guns, but the
greater number being only furnished with bow and arrow, swords, or
clubs. All, however, whether male or female, are provided with ropes
wherewith to bind their prisoners, slave hunts being in truth the
real object of Dahoman warfare. From his profound knowledge of negro
character, Captain Burton long ago prophesied that the kingdom of
Dahome was on the wane, and that “weakened by traditional policy, by a
continual scene of blood, and by the arbitrary measures of her king,
and demoralized by an export slave-trade, by close connection with
Europeans, and by frequent failure, this band of black Spartans is
rapidly falling into decay.”
He also foretold that the king’s constant state of warfare with
Abeokuta was a political mistake, and that the Egbas would eventually
prove to be the conquerors. How true these remarks were has been
proved by the events of the last few years. The king Gelele made his
threatened attack on Abeokuta, and was hopelessly beaten. In spite of
the reckless courage of the Amazons, who fought like so many mad dogs,
and were assisted by three brass six-pounder field guns, his attack
failed, and his troops were driven off with the loss of a vast number
of prisoners, while the killed were calculated at a thousand.
How recklessly these Amazons can fight is evident from their
performances at a review. In this part of the country the simple
fortifications are made of the acacia bushes, which are furnished
with thorns of great length and sharpness, and are indeed formidable
obstacles. At a review witnessed by Mr. Duncan, and finely illustrated
for the reader on the 576th page, model forts were constructed of
these thorns, which were heaped up into walls of some sixty or seventy
feet in thickness and eight in height. It may well be imagined that to
cross such ramparts as these would be no easy task, even to European
soldiers, whose feet are defended by thick-soled boots, and that to a
barefooted soldiery they must be simply impregnable. Within the forts
were built strong pens seven feet in height, inside of which were
cooped up a vast number of male and female slaves belonging to the king.
The review began by the Amazons forming with shouldered arms about two
hundred feet in front of the strong fort, and waiting for the word of
command. As soon as it was given, they rushed forward, charged the
solid fence as though thorns were powerless against their bare feet,
dashed over it, tore down the fence, and returned to the king in
triumph, leading with them the captured slaves, and exhibiting also
the scalps of warriors who had fallen in previous battles, but who were
conventionally supposed to have perished on the present occasion. So
rapid and fierce was the attack, that scarcely a minute had elapsed
after the word of command was given and when the women were seen
returning with their captives.
The organization of the Amazonian army is as peculiar as its existence.
The regiment is divided into three battalions, namely, the centre and
two wings. The centre, or Fanti battalion, is somewhat analogous to our
Guards, and its members distinguished by wearing on the head a narrow
white fillet, on which are sewed blue crocodiles. This ornament was
granted to them by the king, because one of their number once killed
a crocodile. As a mark of courtesy, the king generally confers on his
distinguished visitors the honorary rank of commander of the Fanti
battalion, but this rank does not entitle him even to order the corps
out for a review.
The Grenadiers are represented by the Blunderbuss Company, who are
selected for their size and strength, and are each followed by a slave
carrying ammunition. Equal in rank to them are the sharpshooters, or
“Sure-to-kill” Company, the Carbineers, and the Bayonet Company.
The women of most acknowledged courage are gathered into the Elephant
Company, their special business being to hunt the elephant for the sake
of its tusks, a task which they perform with great courage and success,
often bringing down an elephant with a single volley from their
imperfect weapons.
The youngest, best-looking, most active and neatly dressed, are the
archers. They are furnished with very poor weapons, usually bow and
small arrows, and a small knife. Indeed, they are more for show than
for use, and wear by way of uniform a dress more scanty than that of
the regular army, and are distinguished also by an ivory bracelet on
the left arm, and a tattoo extending to the knee. They are specially
trained in dancing, and, when in the field, they are employed as
messengers and in carrying off the dead and wounded. Their official
title is Go-hen-to, _i. e._ the bearers of quivers.
The greater number of the Amazons are of course line-soldiers, and if
they only had a little knowledge of military manœuvres, and could be
taught to load properly, as well as to aim correctly, would treble
their actual power. Their manœuvres, however, are compared by Captain
Burton to those of a flock of sheep, and they have such little
knowledge of concerted action that they would be scattered before a
charge of the very worst troops in Europe.
Lastly come the razor women. This curious body is intended for striking
terror into the enemy, the soldiers being armed with a large razor,
that looks exactly as if it had been made for the clown in a pantomime.
The blade is about two feet in length, and the handle of course
somewhat larger, and, when opened, the blade is kept from shutting by a
spring at the back. It is employed for decapitating criminals, but by
way of a weapon it is almost worse than useless, and quite as likely to
wound the person who holds it as it is him against whom it is directed.
The razor was invented by a brother of the late King Gezo. On the 558th
page is an illustration of one of the war-drums of the Amazons. It was
taken from the slain warriors in the attack upon Abeokuta.
CHAPTER LVI.
DAHOME--_Continued_.
THE DUPLICATE KING -- THE “CUSTOMS” OF DAHOME -- APPEARANCE OF KING
GELELE -- ETIQUETTE AT COURT -- THE KING DRINKS -- THE CALABASHES OF
STATE -- THE KING’S PROGRESS -- THE ROYAL PROCESSION -- THE FIRST
DAY OF THE CUSTOMS -- THE VICTIM-SHED AND ITS INMATES -- THE ROYAL
PAVILION -- PRELIMINARY CEREMONIALS -- THE SECOND DAY OF THE CUSTOMS
-- THE “ABLE-TO-DO-ANYTHING” CLOTH -- THE THIRD DAY -- SCRAMBLING FOR
COWRIES, AND PROCESSION OF HUNCHBACKS -- FETISHES -- CONVERSATION
WITH THE VICTIMS -- THE FOURTH DAY AND ITS EVIL NIGHT -- ESTIMATED
NUMBER OF THE VICTIMS, AND MODE OF THEIR EXECUTION -- OBJECT AND
MEANING OF THE CUSTOMS -- LETTER TO THE DEAD, AND THE POSTSCRIPT --
EXECUTION AT AGBOME -- THE BLOOD DRINKER.
Before proceeding to the dread “customs” of Dahome, we must give a
brief notice of a remarkable point in the Dahoman statecraft. Like
Japan, Dahome has two kings, but, instead of being temporal and
spiritual as in Japan, they are City king and Bush king, each having
his throne, his state, his court, his army, his officers, and his
customs. When Captain Burton visited Dahome, the City king was Gelele,
son of Gezo, and the Bush king was Addo-kpore.
The Bush king is set over all the farmers, and regulates tillage and
commerce; while the City king rules the cities, makes war, and manages
the slave trade. Consequently, the latter is so much brought into
contact with the traders that the former is scarcely ever seen except
by those who visit the country for the express purpose. He has a palace
at a place about six miles from the capital, but the building was only
made of poles and matting when Captain Burton visited it, and is not
likely to be made of stronger materials, as it was not to be built of
“swish” until Abeokuta was taken.
We will now proceed to describe, as briefly as is consistent with
truth, the customs of both kings, our authorities being restricted
to two, Mr. Duncan and Captain Burton, the latter having made many
important corrections in the statements of the former and of other
travellers. The present tense will therefore be used throughout the
description.
Gelele is a fine-looking man, with a right royal aspect. He is more
than six feet in height, thin, broad-shouldered, active, and powerful.
His hair is nearly all shaven except two cockade-like tufts, which are
used as attachments for beads and other trinkets of brass and silver.
Contrary to the usual form, he has a firm and well-pronounced chin, and
a tolerably good forehead, and, in spite of his cruel and bloodthirsty
nature, has a very agreeable smile. He wears his nails very long, and
is said, though the statement is very doubtful, that he keeps under his
talon-like nails a powerful poison, which he slily infuses in the drink
of any of his Caboceers who happen to offend him. His face is much
pitted with the small-pox, and he wears the mark of his race, namely,
three perpendicular scars on the forehead just above the nose. This is
the last remnant of a very painful mode of tatooing, whereby the cheeks
were literally carved, and the flaps of flesh turned up and forced to
heal in that position.
He is not nearly so black as his father, his skin approaching the
copper color, and it is likely that his mother was either a slave girl
from the northern Makhi, or a mulatto girl from Whydah.
On ordinary occasions he dresses very simply, his body cloth being of
white stuff edged with green, and his short drawers of purple silk. He
wears but few ornaments, the five or six iron bracelets which encircle
his arms being used more as defensive armor than as jewelry.
Still, though dressed in a far simpler style than any of his Caboceers,
he is very punctilious with regard to etiquette, and preserves the
smallest traditions with a minute rigidity worthy of the court of
Louis XIV. Although he may be sitting on a mere earthen bench, and
smoking a clumsy and very plain pipe, all his court wait upon him with
a reverence that seems to regard him as a demi-god rather than a man.
Should the heat, from which he is sheltered as much as possible by the
royal umbrella, produce a few drops on his brow, they are delicately
wiped off by one of his wives with a fine cloth; if the tobacco prove
rather too potent, a brass or even a gold spittoon is placed before the
royal lips. If he sneezes, the whole assembled company burst into a
shout of benedictions. The chief ceremony takes place when he drinks.
As soon as he raises a cup to his lips, two of his wives spread a white
cloth in front of him, while others hold a number of gaudy umbrellas so
as to shield him from view. Every one who has a gun fires it, those who
have bells beat them, rattles are shaken, and all the courtiers bend to
the ground, clapping their hands. As to the commoners, they turn their
backs if sitting, if standing they dance like bears, paddling with
their hands as if they were paws, bawling “Poo-oo-oo” at the top of
their voices.
If a message is sent from him, it is done in a most circuitous manner.
He first delivers the message to the Dakro, a woman attached to the
court. She takes it to the Meu, and the Meu passes it on to the Mingan,
and the Mingan delivers it to the intended recipient. When the message
is sent to the king, the order is reversed, and, as each officer has to
speak to a superior, a salutation is used neatly graduated according
to rank. When the message at last reaches the Dakro, she goes down on
all-fours, and whispers the message into the royal ears. So tenacious
of trifles is the native memory, that the message will travel through
this circuitous route without the loss or transposition of a word.
When any one, no matter what may be his rank, presents himself before
the king, he goes through a ceremony called “Itte d’ai,” or lying on
the ground. He prostrates himself flat on his face, and with his hands
shovels the dust all over his person. He also kisses the ground, and
takes care when he rises to have as much dust as possible on his huge
lips. Face, hands, limbs, and clothes are equally covered with dust,
the amount of reverence being measured by the amount of dust. No one
approaches the king erect: he must crawl on all-fours, shuffle on his
knees, or wriggle along like a snake.
Wherever Gelele holds his court, there are placed before him three
large calabashes, each containing the skull of a powerful chief whom
he had slain. The exhibition of these skulls is considered as a mark
of honor to their late owners, and not, as has been supposed, a sign
of mockery or disgrace. One is bleached and polished like ivory, and
is mounted on a small ship made of brass. The reason for this curious
arrangement is, that when Gezo died, the chief sent a mocking message
to Gelele, saying that the sea had dried up, and men had seen the end
of Dahome. Gelele retaliated by invading his territory, killing him,
and mounting his skull on a ship, as a token that there was plenty of
water left to float the vessel.
The second skull is mounted with brass so as to form a drinking cup.
This was done because the owner had behaved treacherously to Gelele
instead of assisting him. In token, therefore, that he ought to have
“given water to a friend in affliction”--the metaphorical mode of
expressing sympathy--Gelele and his courtiers now drink water out of
his skull. The third was the skull of a chief who had partaken of this
treachery, and his skull was accordingly mounted with brass fittings
which represented the common country trap, in order to show that he had
set a trap, and fallen into it himself. All these skulls were without
the lower jaw, that being the most coveted ornament for umbrellas and
sword-handles. Sad to say, with the usual negro disregard of inflicting
pain, the captor tears the jaw away while the victim is still alive,
cutting through both cheeks with one hand and tearing away the jaw with
the other.
The same minute and grotesque etiquette accompanies the king as he
proceeds to Agbome, the real capital, to celebrate the So-Sin Custom,
and it is impossible to read the accounts of the whole proceeding
without being struck with the ingenuity by which the negro has pressed
into the service of barbarism everything European that he can lay his
hands upon, while he has invariably managed thereby to make the rites
ludicrous instead of imposing.
First came a long line of chiefs, distinguished by their flags and
umbrellas, and, after marching once round the large space or square,
they crossed over and formed a line of umbrellas opposite the gateway.
Then came the royal procession itself, headed by skirmishers and led by
a man carrying one of the skull-topped banners. After these came some
five hundred musketeers, and behind them marched two men carrying large
leathern shields painted white, and decorated with a pattern in black.
These are highly valued, as remnants of the old times when shields
were used in warfare, and were accompanied by a guard of tall negroes,
wearing brass helmets and black horse-tails.
[Illustration: (1.) AMAZON REVIEW. (See page 571.)]
[Illustration: (2.) THE KING’S DANCE. (See page 577.)]
Next came the Kafo, or emblem of royalty, namely, an iron fetish-stick
enclosed in a white linen case, topped with a white plume; and after
the Kafo came the king, riding under the shade of four white umbrellas,
and further sheltered from the sun by three parasols, yellow, purple,
and bluish red. These were waved over him so as to act as fans.
After the king was borne the great fetish axe, followed by the “band,”
a noisy assemblage of performers on drums, rattles, trumpets, cymbals,
and similar instruments. Two specimens of ivory trumpets, with various
strange devices elaborately carved, are represented in an engraving on
the 558th page. The right-hand trumpet has a crucified figure on it.
Lastly came a crowd of slaves laden with chairs, baskets of cowries,
bottles, and similar articles, the rear being brought up by a pair of
white and blue umbrellas and a tattered flag.
Six times the king was carried round the space, during two of the
circuits being drawn in a nondescript wheeled vehicle, and on the
third circuit being carried, carriage and all, on the shoulders of his
attendants. The fourth and fifth circuits were made _in a Bath chair_,
and the sixth in the same vehicle carried as before. The king then
withdrew to the opposite side of the space, and the Amazons made their
appearance, dashing into the space in three companies, followed by
the Fanti companies already described. These young women showed their
agility in dancing, and were followed by a calabash adorned with skulls
and a number of flags, escorted by twelve Razor women.
By this time the king had transferred himself to a hammock of yellow
silk, suspended from a black pole ornamented with silver sharks--this
fish being a royal emblem--and tipped with brass at each end. Twelve
women carried the hammock, and others shaded and fanned him as before.
These preliminaries being completed, all retired to rest until the
following day, which was to be the first of the So-Sin or Horse-tie
Customs.
The first object that strikes the eye of the observer is a large shed
about one hundred feet long, forty wide, and sixty high, having at
one end a double-storied turret, and the whole being covered with a
red cloth. At the time of which we are treating there sat in the shed
twenty of the victims to be sacrificed. They were all seated on stools,
and bound tightly to the posts by numerous cords. No unnecessary pain
was inflicted: they were fed four times in the day, were loosened at
night for sleeping, and were furnished with attendants who kept off the
flies. They were dressed in a sort of San Benito costume, namely, a
white calico shirt, bound with red ribbon, and having a crimson patch
on the left breast. On the head was a tall pointed white cap, with
blue ribbon wound spirally round it. In spite of their impending fate,
the victims did not seem to be unhappy, and looked upon the scene with
manifest curiosity.
Next came the rite from which the ceremony takes its name. The chief of
the horse came up with a number of followers, and took away all horses
from their owners, and tied them to the shed, whence they could only be
released by the payment of cowries.
Another shed was built especially for the king, and contained about the
same number of victims. Presently Gelele came, and proceeded to his own
shed, where he took his seat, close to the spot on which was pitched
a little tent containing the relics of the old king, and supposed
to be temporarily inhabited by his ghost. After some unimportant
ceremonies, Gelele made an address, stating that his ancestors had
only built rough and rude So-Sin sheds, but that Gezo had improved
upon them when “making customs” for his predecessor. But he, Gelele,
meant to follow his father’s example, and to do for his father what
he hoped his son would do for him. This discourse was accompanied by
himself on the drum, and after it was over, he displayed his activity
in dancing, assisted by his favorite wives and a professional jester.
(See engraving on the previous page.) Leaning on a staff decorated with
a human skull, he then turned toward the little tent, and adored in
impressive silence his father’s ghost.
The next business was to distribute decorations and confer rank, the
most prominent example being a man who was raised from a simple captain
to be a Caboceer, the newly-created noble floundering on the ground,
and covering himself and all his new clothes with dust as a mark of
gratitude. More dancing and drumming then went on until the night
closed in, and the first day was ended.
The second day exhibited nothing very worthy of notice except the rite
which gives it the name of Cloth-changing Day. The king has a piece of
patchwork, about six hundred yards long by ten wide, which is called
the “Nun-ce-pace-to,” _i. e._ the Able-to-do-anything cloth. This is to
be worn by the king as a robe as soon as he has taken Abeokuta, and, to
all appearances, he will have to wait a very long time before he wears
it. It is unrolled, and held up before the king, who walked along its
whole length on both sides, amid the acclamations of his people, and
then passed to his shed, where he was to go through the cloth-changing.
This rite consisted in changing his dress several times before the
people, and dancing in each new dress, finishing with a fetish
war-dress, _i. e._ a short under robe, and a dark blue cloth studded
with charms and amulets, stained with blood, and edged with cowries.
The third day of the Customs exhibited but little of interest,
being merely the usual processions and speeches, repeated over and
over again to a wearisome length. The most notable feature is the
cowrie-scrambling. The king throws strings of cowries among the people,
who fight for them on perfectly equal terms, the lowest peasant and
the highest noble thinking themselves equally bound to join in the
scramble. Weapons are not used, but it is considered quite legitimate
to gouge out eyes or bite out pieces of limbs, and there is scarcely a
scramble that does not end in maiming for life, while on some occasions
one or two luckless individuals are left dead on the ground. No notice
is taken of them, as they are, by a pleasant fiction of law, supposed
to have died an honorable death in defence of their king.
Lastly there came a procession of hunchbacks, who, as Captain Burton
tells us, are common in Western Africa, and are assembled in troops of
both sexes at the palace. The chief of them wielded a formidable whip,
and, having arms of great length and muscular power, easily cut a way
for his followers through the dense crowd. Seven potent fetishes were
carried on the heads of the principal hunchbacks. They were very strong
fetishes indeed, being in the habit of walking about after nightfall.
They are described as follows:--“The first was a blue dwarf, in a gray
paque, with hat on head. The second, a blue woman with protuberant
breast. The third, a red dwarf with white eyes, clad _cap-à-pie_ in
red and brown. The fourth was a small black mother and child in a blue
loin-cloth, with a basket or calabash on the former’s head. The fifth,
ditto, but lesser. The sixth was a pigmy baboon-like thing, with a
red face under a black skull-cap, a war-club in the right hand and a
gun in the left; and the seventh much resembled the latter, but was
lamp-black, with a white apron behind. They were carved much as the
face cut on the top of a stick by the country bumpkins in England.”
The king next paid a visit to the victims, and entered into
conversation with some of them, and presented twenty “heads” of cowries
to them. At Captain Burton’s request that he would show mercy, he had
nearly half of them untied, placed on their hands and knees in front of
him, and then dismissed them.
The fourth day of the Customs is traditionally called the Horse-losing
Day, from a ceremony which has now been abolished, although the name
is retained. More dances, more processions, and more boastings that
Abeokuta should be destroyed, and that the grave of Gelele’s father
should be well furnished with Egba skulls. The same little fetishes
already mentioned were again produced, and were followed by a curious
_pas-de-seul_ performed by a “So.” The So is an imitation demon, “a
bull-faced mask of natural size, painted black, with glaring eyes and
peep-holes. The horns were hung with red and white rag-strips, and
beneath was a dress of bamboo fibre covering the feet, and fringed at
the ends. It danced with head on one side, and swayed itself about to
the great amusement of the people.”
The whole of the proceedings were terminated by a long procession of
slaves, bearing in their hands baskets of cowries. “It was the usual
African inconsequence--100,000 to carry 20_l._”
The evening of the fourth day is the dreaded Evil Night, on which the
king walks in solemn procession to the market-place, where the chief
executioner with his own hand puts to death those victims who have been
reserved. The precise nature of the proceedings is not known, as none
are allowed to leave their houses except the king and his retinue; and
any one who is foolish enough to break this law is carried off at once
to swell the list of victims. It is said that the king speaks to the
men, charging them with messages to his dead father, telling him that
his memory is revered, and that a number of new attendants have been
sent to him, and with his own hand striking the first blow, the others
being slain by the regular executioner.
The bodies of the executed were now set upon a pole, or hung up by
their heels, and exhibited to the populace, much as used to be done in
England, when a thief was first executed, and then hung in chains.
The number of these victims has been much exaggerated. In the annual
Customs, the number appears to be between sixty and eighty. Some
thirty of these victims are men, and suffer by the hand of the chief
executioner or his assistants; but it is well known that many women are
also put to death within the palace walls, the bloodthirsty Amazons
being the executioners. The mode of execution is rather remarkable.
After the king has spoken to the victims, and dictated his messages,
the executioners fall upon them and beat them to death with their
official maces. These instruments are merely wooden clubs, armed on one
side of the head with iron knobs. Some, however, say that the victims
are beheaded; and it is very likely that both modes are employed.
As to the stories that have been so frequently told of the many
thousand human victims that are annually slain, and of the canoe which
is paddled by the king in a trench filled with human blood, they are
nothing more than exaggerations invented by traders for the purpose of
frightening Englishmen out of the country. Even in the Grand Customs
which follow the decease of a king the number of victims is barely five
hundred.
We may naturally ask ourselves what is the meaning of the Customs, or
So-Sin. This ceremony is the accepted mode of doing honor to the late
king, by sending to him a number of attendants befitting his rank.
Immediately after his burial, at the Grand Customs, some five hundred
attendants, both male and female, are despatched to the dead king,
and ever afterward his train is swelled by those who are slain at the
regular annual Customs.
Besides the Customs there is scarcely a day when executions of a
similar character do not take place. Whatever the king does must be
reported to his father by a man, who is first charged with the message
and then killed. No matter how trivial the occasion may be--if a white
man visits him, if he has a new drum made, or even if he moves from one
house to another--a messenger is sent to tell his father. And if after
the execution the king should find that he has forgotten something,
away goes another messenger, like the postscript of a letter.
All this terrible destruction of human life, which is estimated by
Burton as averaging five hundred per annum in ordinary years, and a
thousand in the Grand Customs year, is bad enough, but not so bad
as it has been painted. The victims are not simple subjects of the
king selected for the sacrifice of bloodthirsty caprice, as has been
generally supposed. They are either criminals or prisoners of war, and,
instead of being executed on the spot, are reserved for the customs,
and are treated as well as is consistent with their safe custody.
Indeed, considering the object for which they are reserved, it would be
bad policy for the Dahoman king to behave cruelly toward his victims.
They are intended as messengers to his father, about whom they are ever
afterward supposed to wait, and it would be extremely impolitic in the
present king to send to his father a messenger who was ill-disposed
toward himself, and who might, therefore, garble his message, or
deliver an evil report to the dead sovereign.
As a rule, the victims in question are quite cheerful and contented,
and about as unlike our ideas of doomed men as can well be imagined. In
the first place, they are constitutionally indifferent to human life,
their own lives with those of others being equally undervalued; and,
as they know that their lives are forfeit, they accept the position
without useless murmurs. Nor is the mode of death so painful as seems
at first sight to be the case, for the king, actuated by that feeling
of pity which caused the Romans to stupefy with a soporific draught the
senses of those who were condemned to the cross, mostly administers to
the victims a bottle or so of rum about an hour before the execution,
so that they are for the most part insensible when killed.
This humane alleviation of their sufferings is, however, restricted to
those who die at the customs, and is not extended to those who perish
by the hands of the executioner as messengers to the deceased king. How
these executions are conducted may be seen by the following account of
a scene at Dahome by Mr. Duncan:--
“The ceremonies of this day were nearly a repetition of those of
yesterday, till the time arrived (an hour before sunset) when the four
traitors were brought into the square for execution. They marched
through the mob assembled round apparently as little concerned as the
spectators, who seemed more cheerful than before the prisoners made
their appearance, as if they were pleased with the prospect of a change
of performance. The prisoners were marched close past me in slow time;
consequently I had a good opportunity of minutely observing them,
particularly as every person remained on his knees, with the exception
of myself and the guard who accompanied the prisoners.
“They were all young men, of the middle size, and appeared to be of
one family, or at least of the same tribe of Makees, who are much
better-looking than the people of the coast. Each man was gagged with a
short piece of wood, with a small strip of white cotton tied round each
end of the stick, and passed round the pole. This was to prevent them
from speaking. They were arranged in line, kneeling before the king.
“The head gang-gang man then gave four beats on the gong, as one--two,
and one--two; the upper part of the gang-gang being smaller than the
lower, and thus rendering the sounds different, similar to the public
clocks in England when striking the quarters. After the four beats the
gang-gang man addressed the culprits upon the enormity of their crime
and the justice of their sentence. During this lengthened harangue the
gang-gang was struck at short intervals, which gave a sort of awful
solemnity to the scene. After this, the men were suddenly marched some
distance back from his majesty, who on this occasion refused to witness
the execution. The men were then ordered to kneel in line about nine
feet apart, their hands being tied in front of the body, and the elbows
held behind by two men, the body of the culprit bending forward.
“Poor old Mayho, who is an excellent man, was the proper executioner.
He held the knife or bill-hook to me, but I again declined the honor;
when the old man, at one blow on the back of the neck, divided the
head from the body of the first culprit, with the exception of a
small portion of the skin, which was separated by passing the knife
underneath. Unfortunately the second man was dreadfully mangled, for
the poor fellow at the moment the blow was struck having raised his
head, the knife struck in a slanting direction, and only made a large
wound; the next blow caught him on the back of the head, when the brain
protruded. The poor fellow struggled violently. The third stroke caught
him across the shoulders, indicting a dreadful gash. The next caught
him on the neck, which was twice repeated. The officer steadying the
criminal now lost his hold on account of the blood which rushed from
the blood-vessels on all who were near. Poor old Mayho, now quite
palsied, took hold of the head, and after twisting it several times
round, separated it from the still convulsed and struggling trunk.
During the latter part of this disgusting execution the head presented
an awful spectacle, the distortion of the features, and the eyeballs
completely upturned, giving it a horrid appearance.
“The next man, poor fellow, with his eyes partially shut and head
drooping forward near to the ground, remained all this time in
suspense; casting a partial glance on the head which was now close to
him, and the trunk dragged close past him, the blood still rushing from
it like a fountain. Mayho refused to make another attempt, and another
man acted in his stead, and with one blow separated the spinal bones,
but did not entirely separate the head from the body. This was finished
in the same manner as the first. However, the fourth culprit was not so
fortunate, his head not being separated till after three strokes. The
body afterward rolled over several times, when the blood spurted over
my face and clothes.
“The most disgusting part of this abominable and disgusting execution
was that of an ill-looking wretch, who, like the numerous vultures,
stood with a small calabash in his hand, ready to catch the blood from
each individual which he greedily devoured before it had escaped one
minute from the veins. The old wretch had the impudence to put some
rum in the blood and ask me to drink: at that moment I could with good
heart have sent a bullet through his head.
“Before execution the victim is furnished with a clean white cloth to
tie round the loins. After decapitation the body is immediately dragged
off by the heels to a large pit at a considerable distance from the
town, and thrown therein, and is immediately devoured by wolves and
vultures, which are here so ravenous that they will almost take your
victuals from you.”
Captain Burton says that he never saw this repulsive part of the
sacrificial ceremony, and states that there is only one approach to
cannibalism in Dahome. This is in connection with the worship of the
thunder god, and is described on page 586.
CHAPTER LVII.
DAHOME--_Concluded_.
THE GRAND CUSTOMS OF DAHOME -- CELEBRATED ONCE IN A LIFETIME -- “WE
ARE HUNGRY” -- THE BASKET SACRIFICE -- GELELE’S TOWER -- THE FIRE
TELEGRAPH AND ITS DETAILS -- LAST DAY OF THE CUSTOMS -- THE TIRED
ORATORS -- A GENERAL SMASH -- CONCLUSION OF THE CEREMONY -- DAHOMAN
MARRIAGES -- THE RELIGION OF DAHOME -- POLYTHEISM, AND DIFFERENT
RANKS OF THE DEITIES -- WORSHIP OF THE THUNDER GOD -- CEREMONY OF
HEAD WORSHIP -- THE PRIESTS OR FETISHERS -- THE FEMALE FETISHERS --
IDEAS OF THE SPIRITUAL WORLD -- INQUEST AFTER DEATH -- BURIAL -- THE
DEATH OF A KING -- THE WATER SPRINKLING CUSTOM -- CAPTAIN BURTON’S
SUMMARY OF THE DAHOMAN CHARACTER.
We now pass to the Grand Customs of Dahome, which only take place once
in a monarch’s lifetime. This fearful ceremony, or rather series of
ceremonies, is performed in honor of a deceased king, and the duty of
carrying it out devolves upon his successor. Each king tries to outvie
his predecessor by sacrificing a greater number of victims, or by
inventing some new mode of performing the sacrifice. In consequence of
this habit the mode of conducting the Grand Custom is so exceedingly
variable that a full description would entail a narration of the Custom
as performed by each successive king.
It has already been stated that the victims are carefully saved for the
purpose, Custom Day being the only general execution time in the year;
and in consequence, if a new king finds that he has not a sufficient
number of victims to do honor to his father’s memory, and at least to
equal those whom his father sacrificed when he came to the throne, he
must wait until the required number can be made up.
The usual method of doing so is to go to war with some tribe with
whom there is a feud; and for this reason, among others, both Gezo
and Gelele made a series of attacks, Abeokuta winning at first, but
being afterward beaten back, as has been narrated. It is chiefly for
this reason that the Amazons are taught to rush so fiercely over the
formidable thorn walls by which the towns are fortified, and the
prisoners whom they take are mostly handed over to the king to be kept
in readiness for the next custom.
On the great day of the Grand Custom the king appears on a platform,
decorated, according to Dahoman ideas, in a most gorgeous manner, with
cloths on which are rudely painted the figures of various animals.
Around him are his favorite wives and his principal officers, each
of the latter being distinguished by his great umbrella. Below is a
vast and surging crowd of negroes of both sexes, wild with excitement
and rum, and rending the air with their yells of welcome to their
sovereign. In recognition of their loyalty, he flings among them
“heads” of cowries, strings of beads, rolls of cloth, and similar
valuables, for which they fight and scramble and tear each other like
so many wild beasts--and indeed, for the time, they are as fierce and
as ruthless as the most savage beasts that the earth holds.
After these specimens of the royal favor are distributed, the cries
and yells begin to take shape, and gradually resolve themselves into
praises of the king and appeals to his bounty. “We are hungry, O King,”
they cry. “Feed us, O King, for we are hungry!” and this ominous demand
is repeated with increasing fury, until the vast crowd have lashed
themselves to a pitch of savage fury, which nothing but blood can
appease. And blood they have in plenty. The victims are now brought
forward, each being gagged in order to prevent him from crying out to
the king for mercy, in which case he must be immediately released, and
they are firmly secured by being lashed inside baskets, so that they
can move neither head, hand, nor foot. At the sight of the victims the
yells of the crowd below redouble, and the air is rent with the cry,
“We are hungry! Feed us, O King.”
Presently the deafening yells are hushed into a death-like silence, as
the king rises, and with his own hand or foot pushes one of the victims
off the platform into the midst of the crowd below. The helpless wretch
falls into the outstretched arms of the eager crowd, the basket is rent
to atoms by a hundred hands; and in a shorter time than it has taken to
write this sentence the man has been torn limb from limb, while around
each portion of the still quivering body a mass of infuriated negroes
are fighting like so many starved dogs over a bone.
Gelele, following the habits of his ancestors, introduced an
improvement on this practice, and, instead of merely pushing the
victims off the platform, built a circular tower some thirty feet in
height, decorated after the same grotesque manner as the platform, and
ordered that the victims should be flung from the top of this tower.
Should the kingdom of Dahome last long enough for Gelele to have a
successor, some new variation will probably be introduced into the
Grand Customs.
After Gelele had finished his gift throwing, a strange procession wound
its way to the tower--the procession of blood. First came a number of
men, each carrying a pole, to the end of which was tied a living cock;
and after them marched another string of men, each bearing on his head
a living goat tied up in a flexible basket, so that the poor animals
could not move a limb. Next came a bull, borne by a number of negroes;
and lastly came the human victims, each tied in a basket, and carried,
like the goats, horizontally on a man’s head.
Three men now mounted to the top of the tower, and received the victims
in succession, as they were handed up to them. Just below the tower
an open space was left, in which was a block of wood, on the edge of
a hole, attended by the executioners. The fowls were first flung from
the top of the tower, still attached to the poles; and it seemed to be
requisite that every creature which was then sacrificed should be tied
in some extraordinary manner. As soon as they touched the ground, they
were seized, dragged to the block, and their heads chopped off, so that
the blood might be poured into the hole. The goats were thrown down
after the fowls, the bull after the goats, and, lastly, the unfortunate
men shared the same fate. The mingled blood of these victims was
allowed to remain in the hole, which was left uncovered all night, the
blood-stained block standing beside it.
The illustration on the following page depicts the last feature of this
terrible scene. On the right hand is the king, seated under his royal
umbrella, surmounted with a leopard, the emblem of royalty, and around
him are his wives and great men. In the centre rises the cloth-covered
tower, from which a human victim has just been hurled, while another is
being carried to his fate. Below is one of the executioners standing
by the block, and clustering in front of the tower is the mob of
infuriated savages.
Just below the king is seen the band, the most prominent instrument
of which is the great drum carried on a man’s head, and beaten by
the drummer who stands behind him, and one of the king’s banners is
displayed behind the band, and guarded by a body of armed Amazons.
In front are several of the fetishmen, their heads adorned with the
conical cap, their bodies fantastically painted, and the inevitable
skull in their hands. The house which is supposed to contain the spirit
of the deceased king is seen on the left.
The last day of the Customs is celebrated after a rather peculiar
manner.
A line of soldiers armed with guns is stationed all the way from Agbome
to Whydah. These soldiers are placed at some little distance from each
other, and their duty is to transmit a rolling fire all the way from
the capital to the port and back again. This is a later invention,
the former plan being to transmit a small present from hand to hand,
starting from Whydah and having its destination in the palace. Another
line of musketeers extended from the Komasi house to a suburb about a
mile distant.
The method of arranging them is very curious. At intervals of three
hundred yards or so are built little huts of grass, each being the
lodging-place of two soldiers. Though slightly built, there is some
attempt at ornament about them, as each hut has a pent roof, a veranda
supported by light poles, and the side walls decorated with a diamond
pattern of bamboo and a fetish shrub, which is supposed to repel
lightning. A tuft of grass ornaments each end of the gables, and those
huts that are situated nearest the palace are always the most decorated.
In front of each hut the muskets belonging to the soldiers are fixed
horizontally on forked sticks. They are ready loaded, and the two are
employed lest one of them should miss fire. There are nearly nine
hundred of these huts upon the line to Whydah, and it is calculated
that the time occupied in the fire ought to be about half an hour.
[Illustration: THE BASKET SACRIFICE. (See page 582.)]
When Captain Burton attended this ceremony in 1863, Gelele had not been
confirmed at Allada, and in consequence was not, by royal etiquette,
allowed to live in a house built of anything better than stakes and
matting. Consequently, his officers were obliged to follow his example,
as it would have been equivalent to treason had a subject presumed to
live in a “swish” house when his monarch only dwelt in matting.
However, on this occasion at all events the king tried to atone by
barbarous finery for the wretched material of his “palace.” The Agwajai
gate led into an oblong court of matting, sprinkled with thick-leaved
little fig trees of vivid green, and divided into two by the usual line
of bamboos. At the bottom of the southern half was the royal pavilion,
somewhat like a Shakmiyana in Bengal, with an open wing on each side.
“The sloping roof of the central part, intended for the king, was of
gold and lake damask, under two broad strips of red and green satin;
the wings, all silk and velvet, were horizontally banded with red,
white-edged green, purple and yellow, red and green in succession, from
the top, and, where the tongue-shaped lappets started, with chrome
yellow. The hangings, playing loosely in the wind, were remarkable
chiefly for grotesque figures of men and beasts cut out of colored
cloth and sewed to the lining.”
Several little tables were placed near the inner entrances, each being
sheltered by a huge umbrella, three decorated with figures and four
white. These were for the women, who were dressed in their gayest
apparel, magnificent in mantles of red, pink, and flowered silks
and satins. Opposite to the king were five ragged white umbrellas,
sheltering eleven small tables, and behind the tables was a small crowd
of officials and captains, dressed in costumes somewhat similar to
those of the women.
On the right of the throne was the court fool, a very important
man indeed, his eyes surrounded with rings of white chalk, and
his shoulders covered with an old red velvet mantle. Although not
of sufficient rank to be permitted the use of an umbrella, he was
sheltered from the sun by a piece of matting raised on poles. A model
of a canoe was placed near him.
Just at the entrances eight muskets were tied horizontally, each
supported on two forked sticks, as has already been described, and
behind each musket stood the Amazon to whom it belonged.
After making his guests wait for at least two hours,--such a delay
being agreeable to royal etiquette,--the king condescended to appear.
This time he had arrayed himself after a very gorgeous and rather
heterogeneous fashion. He wore a yellow silk tunic, covered with little
scarlet flowers, a great black felt Spanish hat, or sombrero, richly
embroidered with gold braid, and a broad belt of gold and pearls
(probably imitation) passed over his left shoulder to his right side.
Suspended to his neck was a large crucifix, and in his left hand he
carried an hour-glass. An old rickety table with metal legs, and
covered with red velvet, was placed before him, and upon it were laid a
silver mug, a rosary, sundry pieces of plate, and some silver armlets.
On taking his seat, he put the silver mug to its proper use, by
drinking with all his guests, his own face being, according to custom,
hidden by a linen cloth while he drank.
After the usual complimentary addresses had been made, a woman rose at
1 P. M. and gave the word of command--“A-de-o.” This is a corruption
of Adios, or farewell. At this word two of the muskets in front of the
king were discharged, and the firing was taken up by the Jegbe line. In
three minutes the firing ran round Jegbe and returned to the palace. At
2 P. M. another “A-de-o” started the line of firing to Whydah, the time
of its return having been calculated and marked by a rude device of
laying cowries on the ground, and weaving a cloth in a loom, the number
of threads that are laid being supposed to indicate a certain duration
of time.
As soon as the firing began, two officials marched up to the king and
began an oration, which they were bound to maintain until the firing
had returned. Amid the horrible noise of five heralds proclaiming
the royal titles and a jester springing his rattle, they began their
speech, but were sadly discomfited by a wrong calculation or a
mismanagement of the firing. Instead of occupying only half an hour, it
was not finished for an hour and a half, and the poor orators were so
overcome with heat and the fine dust which hovered about, that toward
the end of the time they were nearly choked, and could hardly get out
short sentences, at long intervals, from their parched throats. “There
will be stick for this,” remarks Captain Burton.
Stick, indeed, is administered very freely, and the highest with the
lowest are equally liable to it. On one occasion some of the chief
officers of the court did not make their appearance exactly at the
proper time. The king considered that this conduct was an usurpation
of the royal prerogative of making every one else wait, whereas they
had absolutely made him wait for them. So, as soon as they appeared,
he ordered the Amazons to take their bamboos and beat them out of the
court, a command which they executed with despatch and vigor. The
beaten ministers did not, however, seem to resent their treatment, but
sat cowering at the gate in abject submission.
After occupying several days in this feasting and speech-making and
boasting, the king proceeded to the last act of the Customs. Having
resumed his place at the velvet-covered table, he filled his glass
with rum, and drank with his visitors to the health of his father’s
ghost, who, by the way, had been seen bathing in the sea, and had
received two slaves, sacrificed in order to tell him that his son was
pleased at his visit. After a few unimportant ceremonies, he poured
a little rum on the ground, and, dashing his glass to pieces on the
table, rose and left the tent. His attendants followed his example,
and smashed everything to pieces, even including the tables; this act
probably accounting for the very mean and rickety condition of the
royal furniture. With this general smash the Customs terminated, much
to the relief of the visitors.
Marriages among the Dahomans are an odd compound of simplicity and
complexity. The bridegroom commences his suit by sending a couple of
friends to the father of the intended bride, and furnishes them with a
doubly potent argument in the shape of two bottles of rum. Should the
father approve of the proposition, he graciously drinks the rum, and
sends back the empty bottles--a token that he accepts the proposal,
and as a delicate hint that he would like some more rum. The happy man
takes the hint, fills the bottles, sends them to the father, together
with a present for the young lady; and then nothing more is required
except to name the amount of payment which is demanded for the girl.
Cloth is the chief article of barter, and a man is sometimes occupied
for two or three years in procuring a sufficient quantity.
At last the day--always a Sunday--is settled, and more bottles of
rum are sent by the bridegroom’s messengers, who bring the bride in
triumph to her future home, followed by all her family and friends.
Then comes a general feast, at which it is a point of honor to consume
as much as possible, and it is not until after midnight that the bride
is definitely handed over to her husband. The feast being over, the
bridegroom retires into his house and seats himself. Several fetish
women lead in the bride by her wrists, and present her in solemn form,
telling them both to behave well to each other, but recommending him
to flog her well if she displeases him. Another two or three hours of
drinking then follows, and about 3 or 4 A. M. the fetish women retire,
and the actual marriage is supposed to be completed.
Next morning the husband sends more rum and some heads of cowries to
the girl’s parents as a token that he is satisfied, and after a week
the bride returns to her father’s house, where she remains for a day or
two, cooking, however, her husband’s food and sending it to him. On the
day when she returns home another feast is held, and then she subsides
into the semi-servile state which is the normal condition of a wife
throughout the greater part of savage Africa.
We now come to the religion of Dahome, which, as may be imagined from
the previous narrative, is of a very low character, and has been curtly
summarized by Captain Burton in the following sentence:--“Africans, as
a rule, worship everything except the Creator.” As the contact of the
Dahomans with the white men and with the Moslems has probably engrafted
foreign ideas in the native mind, it is not very easy to find out the
exact nature of their religion, but the following account is a short
abstract of the result of Captain Burton’s investigation.
He states that the reason why the natives do not worship the Creator is
that, although they acknowledge the fact of a supreme Deity, they think
that He is too great and high to trouble Himself about the affairs of
mankind, and in consequence they do not trouble themselves by paying
a worship which they think would be fruitless. Their devotion, such
as it is, expends itself therefore upon a host of minor deities, all
connected with some material object.
First we have the principal deities, who are ranked in distinct
classes. The most important is the Snake god, who has a thousand snake
wives, and is represented by the Danhgbwe, which has already been
mentioned. Next in order come the Tree gods, of which the silk-cotton
(_Bombax_) is the most powerful, and has the same number of wives as
the Danhgbwe. It has, however, a rival in the Ordeal, or poison tree.
The last of these groups is the sea. This deity is represented at
Whydah by a very great priest, who ranks as a king, and has five
hundred wives in virtue of his representative office. At stated times
he visits the shore to pay his respects, and to throw into the waves
his offerings of beads, cowries, cloth, and other valuables. Now and
then the king sends a human sacrifice from the capital. He creates
the victim a Caboceer, gives him the state uniform and umbrella of
his short-lived rank, puts him in a gorgeous hammock, and sends him
in great pomp and state to Whydah. As soon as he arrives there, the
priest takes him out of his hammock and transfers him to a canoe, takes
him out to sea, and flings him into the water, where he is instantly
devoured by the expectant sharks.
Lately a fourth group of superior deities has been added, under the
name of the Thunder gods. In connection with the worship of this deity
is found the only approach to cannibalism which is known to exist in
Dahome. When a man has been killed by lightning, burial is not lawful,
and the body is therefore laid on a platform and cut up by the women,
who hold the pieces of flesh in their mouths, and pretend to eat them,
calling out to the passengers, “We sell you meat, fine meat; come and
buy!”
After these groups of superior deities come a host of inferior gods,
too numerous to mention. One, however, is too curious to be omitted.
It is a man’s own head, which is considered a very powerful fetish
in Dahome. An engraving on the 595th page illustrates this strange
worship, which is as follows:--
“The head worshipper, after providing a fowl, kola nuts, rum, and
water, bathes, dresses in pure white baft, and seats himself on a clean
mat. An old woman, with her _medius_ finger dipped in water, touches
successively his forehead, poll, nape, and mid-breast, sometimes
all his joints. She then breaks a kola into its natural divisions,
throws them down like dice, chooses a lucky piece, which she causes
a bystander to chew, and with his saliva retouches the parts before
alluded to.
“The fowl is then killed by pulling its body, the neck being held
between the big and first toe; the same _attouchements_ are performed
with its head, and finally with the boiled and shredded flesh before it
is eaten. Meanwhile rum and water are drunk by those present.”
The fetishers, or priests, are chosen by reason of a sort of ecstatic
fit which comes upon them, and which causes them at last to fall to the
ground insensible. One of the older priests awaits the return of the
senses, and then tells the neophyte what particular fetish has come to
him. He is then taken away to the college, or fetish part of the town,
where he learns the mysteries of his calling, and is instructed for
several years in the esoteric language of the priests, a language which
none but themselves can understand. If at the end of the novitiate he
should return to his former home, he speaks nothing but this sacred
language, and makes it a point of honor never to utter a sentence that
any member of the household can understand.
When a man is once admitted into the ranks of the fetishes, his
subsistence is provided for, whether he be one of the “regulars,” who
have no other calling, and who live entirely upon the presents which
they obtain from those who consult them, or whether he retains some
secular trade, and only acts the fetisher when the fit happens to come
on him. They distinguish themselves by various modes of dress, such as
shaving half the beard, carrying a cow-tail flapper, or wearing the
favorite mark of a fetisher, namely, a belt of cowries strung back to
back, each pair being separated by a single black seed.
The fetish women greatly outnumber the men, nearly one-fourth belonging
to this order. They are often destined to this career before their
birth, and are married to the fetish before they see the light of day.
They also take human spouses, but, from all accounts, the life of the
husband is not the most agreeable in the world. The women spend their
mornings in going about begging for cowries. In the afternoon she goes
with her sisters into the fetish house, and puts on her official dress.
The whole party then sally out to the squares, where they drum and sing
and dance and lash themselves into fits of raving ecstasy. This lasts
for a few hours, when the women assume their ordinary costumes and go
home.
It is illegal for any fetisher to be assaulted while the fetish is
on them, and so the women always manage to shield themselves from
their husband’s wrath by a fetish fit whenever he becomes angry, and
threatens the stick.
As to the position of the human soul in the next world, they believe
that a man takes among the spirits the same rank which he held among
men; so that a man who dies as a king is a king to all eternity, while
he who is a slave when he dies can never be a free man, but must be the
property of some wealthy ghost or other.
Visiting the world of spirits is one of the chief employments of the
fetish men, who are always ready to make the journey when paid for
their trouble. They are often called upon to do so, for a Dahoman
who feels unwell or out of spirits always fancies that his deceased
relatives are calling for him to join them, a request which he feels
most unwilling to grant. So he goes to his favorite fetisher, and
gives him a dollar to descend into the spirit world and present his
excuses to his friends. The fetisher covers himself with his cloth,
lies down, and falls into a trance, and, when he recovers, he gives
a detailed account of the conversation which has taken place between
himself and the friends of his client. Sometimes he brings back a rare
bead or some other object, as proof that he has really delivered the
message and received the answer. The whole proceeding is strangely like
the ceremonies performed by the medicine men or Angekoks among the
Esquimaux.
It is a strange thing that, in a country where human life is sacrificed
so freely, a sort of inquest takes place after every death. The reason
for this custom is rather curious. The king reserves to himself the
right of life and death over his subjects, and any one who kills
another is supposed to have usurped the royal privilege.
As soon as death takes place, notice is sent to the proper officers,
called Gevi, who come and inspect the body, receiving as a fee a head
and a half of cowries. When they have certified that the death was
natural, the relatives begin their mourning, during which they may not
eat nor wash, but may sing as much as they please, and drink as much
rum as they can get. A coffin is prepared, its size varying according
to the rank of the deceased person; the corpse is clothed in its best
attire, decorated with ornaments, and a change of raiment is laid in
the coffin, to be worn when the deceased fairly reaches the land of
spirits. The very poor are unable to obtain a coffin, and a wrapper of
matting is deemed sufficient in such cases.
The grave is dug in rather a peculiar manner, a cavern being excavated
on one side, the coffin being first lowered and then pushed sideways
into the cave, so that the earth immediately above is undisturbed.
After the grave is filled in, the earth is smoothed with water. Over
the grave of a man in good circumstances is placed a vessel-shaped
iron, into which is poured water or blood by way of drink for the
deceased. Formerly a rich man used to have slaves buried with him, but
of late years only the two chiefs of the king are allowed to sacrifice
one slave at death, they being supposed not to need as many attendants
in the next world as if they had been kings of Dahome in this.
As soon as the king dies, his wives and all the women of the palace
begin to smash everything that comes in their way, exactly as has
been related of the concluding scene of the Customs; and, when they
have broken all the furniture of the palace, they begin to turn their
destructive fury upon each other, so that at the death of Agagoro it
was calculated that several hundred women lost their lives within the
palace walls merely in this fight, those sacrificed at the succeeding
Customs being additional victims. This bloodthirsty rage soon extends
beyond the precincts of the palace, and Captain Burton, who has done so
much in contradicting the exaggerated tales of Dahoman bloodshed that
have been so widely circulated, acknowledges that, however well a white
stranger may be received at Agbome, his life would be in very great
danger were he to remain in the capital when the king died.
Even with the termination of the Customs the scenes of blood do not
end. Next comes the “water-sprinkling,” _i. e._ the graves of the kings
must be sprinkled with “water,” the Dahoman euphemism for blood. Of
late years the number of human victims sacrificed at each grave has
been reduced to two, the requisite amount of “water” being supplied by
various animals.
Before each tomb the king kneels on all fours, accompanied by his
chiefs and captains, while a female priest, who must be of royal
descent, makes a long oration to the spirit of the deceased ruler,
asking him to aid his descendant and to give success and prosperity
to his kingdom. Libations of rum and pure water are then poured upon
each grave, followed by the sacrificial “water,” which flows from the
throats of the men, oxen, goats, pigeons, and other victims. Kola nuts
and other kinds of food are also brought as offerings.
The flesh of the animals is then cooked, together with the vegetables,
and a feast is held, the stool of the deceased ruler being placed on
the table as an emblem of his presence. All the Dahoman kings are
buried within the walls of the palace, a house being erected over each
grave. During the water sprinkling, or “Sin-quain,” custom, the king
goes to each house separately, and sleeps in it for five or six nights,
so as to put himself in communion with the spirits of his predecessors.
The reader will remember that the kings who formerly ruled Dahome
are still supposed to hold royal rank in the spirit world, and the
prevalence of the custom shows that this belief in the dead is strong
enough to exercise a powerful influence over the living.
We have now very briefly glanced at the Dahoman in peace, in war,
in religion, in death, and in burial. He is not a pleasant subject,
and, though the space which has been given to him is much too small
to afford more than outline of his history, it would have been more
restricted but for the fact that the Dahoman is an excellent type
of the true negro of Western Africa, and that a somewhat detailed
description of him will enable us to dismiss many other negro tribes
with but a passing notice.
Moreover, as the kingdom of Dahome is fast failing, and all the strange
manners and customs which have been mentioned will soon be only matters
of history, it was necessary to allot rather more space to them than
would otherwise have been the case. The general character of the
Dahoman has been so tersely summed up by Captain Burton, that our
history of Dahome cannot have a better termination than the words of so
competent an authority.
“The modern Dahomans are a mongrel breed and a bad. They are Cretan
liars, _crétins_ at learning, cowardly, and therefore cruel and
bloodthirsty; gamblers, and consequently cheaters; brutal, noisy,
boisterous, unvenerative, and disobedient; ‘dipsas-bitten’ things, who
deem it duty to the gods to be drunk; a flatulent, self-conceited herd
of barbarians, who endeavor to humiliate all those with whom they deal;
in fact, a slave-race,--vermin with a soul apiece.
“They pride themselves in not being, like the Popos, addicted to the
‘dark and dirty crime of poison,’ the fact being that they have been
enabled hitherto to carry everything with a high and violent hand.
They are dark in skin, the browns being of xanthous temperament,
middle-sized, slight, and very lightly made. My Krumen looked like
Englishmen among them. In all wrestling bouts my Krumen threw the
hammock bearers on their heads, and on one occasion, during a kind of
party fight, six of them, with fists and sticks, held their own against
twenty Dahomans.
“They are agile, good walkers, and hard dancers, but carry little
weight. Their dress is a godo, or T bandage, a nun-pwe (undercloth)
or a Tfon chokoto (pair of short drawers), and an owu-chyon, or
body-cloth, twelve feet long by four to six broad, worn like the Roman
toga, from which it may possibly be derived.
“The women are of the Hastini, or elephant order, dark, plain,
masculine, and comparatively speaking of large, strong, and square
build. They are the reapers as well as the sowers of the field, and can
claim the merit of laboriousness, if of no other quality.
“They tattoo the skin, especially the stomach, with alto-relievo
patterns; their dress is a zone of beads, supporting a bandage beneath
the do-oo, or scanty loin cloth, which suffices for the poor and young
girls. The upper classes add an aga-oo, or overcloth, two fathoms long,
passed under the arms, and covering all from the bosom to the ankles.
Neither sex wear either shirt, shoes, or stockings.”
CHAPTER LVIII.
THE EGBAS.
THE EGBA TRIBE -- A BLACK BISHOP -- GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE EGBAS
-- THEIR TRIBAL MARK -- TATTOO OF THE BREECHEE OR GENTLEMEN --
SIGNIFICATION OF ORNAMENTS -- MODE OF SALUTATION -- EGBA ARCHITECTURE
-- SUBDIVISION OF LABOR -- ABEOKUTA AND ITS FORTIFICATIONS -- FEUD
BETWEEN THE EGBAS AND DAHOMANS -- VARIOUS SKIRMISHES AND BATTLES,
AND THEIR RESULTS -- THE GRAND ATTACK ON ABEOKUTA -- REPULSE OF THE
DAHOMAN ARMY -- RELIGION OF THE EGBAS -- THE SYSTEM OF OGBONI --
MISCELLANEOUS SUPERSTITIONS AND SUPPLEMENTARY DEITIES -- EGUGUN AND
HIS SOCIAL DUTIES -- THE ALAKÉ, OR KING OF THE EGBAS -- A RECEPTION
AT COURT -- APPEARANCE OF THE ATTENDANTS.
We are naturally led from Dahome to its powerful and now victorious
enemy, the EGBA tribe, which has perhaps earned the right to be
considered as a nation, and which certainly has as much right to that
title as Dahome.
The Egbas have a peculiar claim on our notice. Some years ago an Egba
boy named Ajai (_i. e._ “struggling for life”) embraced Christianity,
and, after many years of trial, was ordained deacon and priest in the
Church of England. Owing to his constitution he was enabled to work
where a white man would have been prostrated by disease; and, owing
to his origin, he was enabled to understand the peculiar temperament
of his fellow negroes better than any white man could hope to do. His
influence gradually extended, and he was held in the highest esteem
throughout the whole of Western Africa. His widely felt influence
was at last so thoroughly recognized, that he was consecrated to the
episcopal office, and now the negro boy Ajai is known as the Right Rev.
Samuel Crowther, D. D., Lord Bishop of the Niger.
As far as their persons go, the Egbas are a fine race of men, varying
much in color according to the particular locality which they inhabit.
The skin, for example, of the Egba-do, or lower Egba, is of a coppery
black, and that of the chiefs is, as a rule, fairer than that of the
common people. Even the hair of the chiefs is lighter than that of the
common folk, and sometimes assumes a decidedly sandy hue.
The men, while in the prime of life, are remarkable for the extreme
beauty of their forms and the extreme ugliness of their features; and,
as is mostly the case in uncivilized Africa, the woman is in symmetry
of form far inferior to the man, and where one well-developed female is
seen, twenty can be found of the opposite sex.
Whatever may be the exact color of the Egba’s skin, it exhales that
peculiar and indescribable odor which is so characteristic of the
negro races; and, although the slight clothing, the open-air life, and
the use of a rude palm-oil soap prevent that odor from attaining its
full power, it is still perceptible. The lips are of course large and
sausage-shaped, the lower part of the face protrudes, and the chin
recedes to an almost incredible extent, so as nearly to deprive the
countenance of its human character. The hair is short, crisp, and often
grows in the little peppercorn tufts that have been already mentioned
in connection with the Bosjesman race of Southern Africa. The men
dress this scanty crop of hair in a thousand different ways, shaving
it into patterns, and thus producing an effect which, to the eye of an
European, is irresistibly ludicrous. The women contrive to tease it out
to its full length, and to divide it into ridges running over the crown
from the forehead to the nape of the neck, preserving a clean parting
between each ridge, and so making the head look as if it were covered
with the half of a black melon. The skin of the common people is hard
and coarse,--so coarse indeed that Captain Burton compares it to
shagreen, and says that the hand of a slave looks very like the foot of
a fowl.
As to the dress of the Egbas, when uncontaminated by
pseudo-civilization, it is as easily described as procured. A poor man
has nothing but a piece of cloth round his waist, while a man in rather
better circumstances adds a pair of short linen drawers or trousers,
called “shogo,” and a wealthy man wears both the loin cloth and the
drawers, and adds to them a large cloth wrapped gracefully round the
waist, and another draped over the shoulders like a Scotch plaid. The
cloths are dyed by the makers, blue being the usual color, and the
patterns being mostly stripes of lesser or greater width.
Women have generally a short and scanty petticoat, above which is a
large cloth that extends from the waist downward, and a third which
is wrapped shawl-wise over the shoulders. The men and women who care
much about dress dye their hands and feet with red wood. Formerly, this
warlike race used to arm themselves with bows and arrows, which have
now been almost wholly superseded by the “trade gun.” Even now every
man carries in his hand the universal club or knob-kerrie, which, among
the Egbas, has been modified into a simple hooked stick bound with iron
wire in order to increase the strength and weight, and studded with
heavy nails along the convex side. Weapons of a similar nature are used
at Dahome for clubbing criminals to death.
According to savage ideas of beauty, these people tattoo themselves
profusely, covering their bodies with marks which must at some time
have been produced by very painful operations, and which, from their
diversity, serve to perplex observers who have not had time to examine
them minutely, and to classify their wearer.
According to Captain Burton, “the skin-patterns were of every variety,
from the diminutive prick to the great gash and the large boil-like
lumps. They affected various figures--tortoises, alligators, and
the favorite lizard; stars, concentric circles, lozenges, right
lines, welts, gouts of gore, marble or button-like knobs of flesh,
and elevated scars, resembling scalds, which are opened for the
introduction of fetish medicines, and to expel evil influences.
“In this country every tribe, sub-tribe, and even family, has its
blazon, whose infinite diversifications may be compared with the lines
and ordinaries of European heraldry. A volume would not suffice to
explain all the marks in detail. Ogubonna’s family, for instance, have
three small squares of blue tattoo on each cheek, combined with the
three Egba cuts.
“The chief are as follows:--The distinguishing mark of the Egbas is a
gridiron of three cuts, or a multiplication of three, on each cheek.
Free-born women have one, two, or three raised lines, thread-like
scars, from the wrist up the back of the arm, and down the dorsal
region, like long necklaces. They call these ‘Entice my husband.’
“The Yorubas draw perpendicular marks from the temples to the level of
the chin, with slight lateral incisions, hardly perceptible, because
allowed soon to heal. The Efons of Kakanda wear a blue patch, sometimes
highly developed, from the cheek-bones to the ear. The Takpas of Nupè
make one long cut from the upper part of the nostril, sweeping toward
the ear. At Ijasha, a country lying east of Yoruba proper, the tattoo
is a long parallelogram of seven perpendicular and five transverse
lines.”
The most curious tattoo is that of the Breechee (_i. e._ gentleman),
or eldest son and heir. He is not allowed to perform any menial
office, and inherits at his father’s death all the slaves, wives, and
children. Before the Breechee attains full age, a slit is made across
his forehead, and the skin is drawn down and laid across the brow, so
as to form a ridge of hard, knotty flesh from one temple to the other.
The severity of the operation is so great that even the negro often
dies from its effects; but when he survives he is greatly admired, the
unsightly ridge being looked upon as a proof of his future wealth and
his actual strength of constitution.
So minutely does the African mind descend to detail, that even the
ornaments which are worn have some signification well understood by
those who use them. Rings of metal are worn on the legs, ankles, arms,
wrists, fingers, and toes; and round the neck and on the body are
hung strings of beads and other ornaments. Each of these ornaments
signifies the particular deity whom the wearer thinks fit to worship;
and although the number of these deities is very great, the invention
of the negro has been found equal to representing them by the various
ornaments which he wears.
The same minuteness is found in the ordinary affairs of life; and, even
in the regular mode of uttering a salutation, the natives have invented
a vast number of minutiæ. For example, it would be the depth of bad
manners to salute a man when sitting as if he were standing, or the
latter as if he were walking, or a third as if he were returning from
walking. Should he be at work, another form of address is needed, and
another if he should be tired. No less than fifteen forms of personal
salutation are mentioned by Captain Burton, so that the reader may
easily imagine how troublesome the language is to a stranger.
Then the forms of salutation differ as much as the words. If an
inferior meet a superior, a son meet his mother, a younger brother meet
his elder, and so on, an elaborate ceremony is performed. Any burden
that may be carried is placed on the ground, and the bearer proceeds
first to kneel on all fours, then to prostrate himself flat in the
dust, rubbing the earth with the forehead and each cheek alternately.
The next process is to kiss the ground, and this ceremony is followed
by passing each hand down the opposite arm. The dust is again kissed,
and not until then does the saluter resume his feet.
This salutation is only performed once daily to the same person; but
as almost every one knows every one whom he meets, and as one of them
must of necessity be inferior to the other, a vast amount of salutation
has to be got through in the course of a day. Putting together the time
occupied in the various salutations, it is calculated that at least
an hour is consumed by every Egba in rendering or receiving homage.
Sometimes two men meet who are nearly equal, and in such a case both
squat on the ground, and snap their fingers according to the etiquette
of Western Africa.
The architecture of the Egba tribe is mostly confined to “swish” walls
and thatched roofs. A vast number of workers,--or rather idlers--are
engaged on a single house, and the subdivision of labor is carried out
to an extreme extent. Indeed, as Captain Burton quaintly remarks, the
Egbas divide the labor so much that the remainder is imperceptible.
Some of them dig the clay, forming thereby deep pits, which they never
trouble themselves to fill up again, and which become the receptacles
of all sorts of filth and offal. Water, in this wet country, soon
pours into them, and sometimes the corpse of a slave or child is flung
into the nearest pit, to save the trouble of burial. It may easily be
imagined that such pits contribute their part to the fever-breeding
atmosphere of the country.
Another gang is employed in kneading clay and rolling it into
balls; and a third carries it, one ball at a time, to the builders.
Another gang puts the clay balls into the squared shape needful for
architectural purposes; and a fifth hands the shaped clay to the sixth,
who are the actual architects. Yet a seventh gang occupies itself in
preparing palm leaves and thatch; and those who fasten them on the
roof form an eighth gang. Besides these, there is the chief architect,
who by his plumb-line and level rectifies and smooths the walls with a
broad wooden shovel, and sees that they are perfectly upright.
Three successive layers of clay or “swish” are needed, each layer being
allowed to dry for a few days before the next is added. The builders
always manage, if possible, to complete their walls by November, so
that the dry harmattan of December may consolidate the soft clay,
and render it as hard as concrete. This, indeed, is the only reason
why the Egbas approve of the harmattan, its cold, dusty breath being
exceedingly injurious to native constitutions.
One might have thought that this elaborate subdivision of labor would
have the effect of multiplying the working power, as is the case in
Europe. So it would, if the negro worked like the European, but that he
never did, and never will do, unless absolutely compelled by a master
of European extraction. He only subdivides labor in order to spare
himself, and not with the least idea of increasing the amount of work
that he can do in a given time.
The capital of the Egbas and their kindred sub-tribes is called
Abeokuta, a name that has already become somewhat familiar to English
ears on account of the attempts which have been made to introduce
Christianity, civilization, and manufactures among a pagan, savage, and
idle race of negroes. The name of Abeokuta may be literally translated
as Understone, and the title has been given to the place in allusion
to the rock or stone around which it is built. The best description
that has yet been given of Abeokuta is by Captain Burton, from whose
writings the following particulars are gathered.
The city itself is surrounded with concentric lines of fortification,
the outermost being some twenty miles in circumference. These walls are
made of hardened mud, are about five or six feet in height, and have no
embrasures for guns, an omission of very little importance, seeing that
there are scarcely any guns to place in them, and that, if they were
fired, the defenders would be in much greater danger than the attacking
force.
Utterly ignorant of the first principles of fortification, the Egbas
have not troubled themselves to throw out bastions, or to take any
means of securing a flanking fire, and they have made so liberal a
use of matting, poles, and dry leaves within the fortification, that
a carcass or a rocket would set the whole place in a blaze; and, if
the attacking force were to take advantage of the direction of the
wind, they might easily drive out the defenders merely by the smoke
and flames of their own burning houses. Moreover the wall is of such
frail material, and so thinly built, that a single bag of powder hung
against it, and fired, would make a breach that would admit a column of
soldiers together with their field-guns. Around the inner and principal
wall runs a moat some five feet in breadth, partly wet and partly dry,
and of so insignificant a depth that it could be filled up with a few
fascines, or even with a dozen or so of dead bodies.
These defences, ludicrously inefficient as they would be if attacked
by European soldiers, are very formidable obstacles to the Dahoman and
Ibadan, against whose inroads they are chiefly built. As a rule, the
negro has a great horror of attacking a wall, and, as has been proved
by actual conflict, the Dahomans could make no impression whatever upon
these rude fortifications.
The real strength of the city, however, lies in the interior, and
belongs to the rock or “stone” which gives the name to Abeokuta. Within
the walls, the place is broken up into granite eminences, caverns, and
forest clumps, which form natural fortifications, infinitely superior
to those formed by the unskilful hands of the native engineer. Indeed,
the selection of the spot seems to have been the only point in which
the Egbas have exhibited the least appreciation of the art of warfare.
The mode of fighting will presently be described.
The city itself measures some four miles in length by two in breadth,
and is entered by five large gates, at each of which is placed a
warder, who watches those who pass his gate, and exacts a toll from
each passenger. The streets of Abeokuta are narrow, winding, and
intricate, a mode of building which would aid materially in checking
the advance of an enemy who had managed to pass the outer walls. There
are several small market-places here and there, and one of them is
larger than the rest, and called “Shek-pon,” _i. e._ “Do the bachelors
good,” because on every fifth day, when the markets are held, there
is a great concourse of people, and the single men can find plenty of
persons who will fill their pipes, bring them drink, and cook their
food.
“These, then, are my first impressions of Abeokuta. The streets are
as narrow and irregular as those of Lagos, intersecting each other at
every parallel angle, and, when broad and shady, we may be sure that
they have been, or that they will be markets, which are found even
under the eaves of the ‘palace.’ The sun, the vulture, and the pig are
the only scavengers.
“The houses are of tempered mud--the sun-dried brick of Tuta and Nupè,
is here unknown--covered with little flying roofs of thatch, which
burn with exemplary speed. At each angle there is a ‘Kobbi’--a high,
sharp gable of an elevation--to throw off the heavy rain. The form of
the building is the gloomy hollow square, totally unlike the circular
huts of the Krumen and the Kaffirs. It resembles the Utum of the Arabs,
which extending to Usaraga, and Unyavyembe in Central Intertropical
Africa, produces the ‘Tembe,’ and which, through the ‘Patio’ of Spain,
found its way into remote Galway.
“There are courts within courts for the various subdivisions of the
polygamous family, and here also sheep and goats are staked down. The
sexes eat alone; every wife is a ‘free-dealer,’ consequently there is
little more unity than in a nunnery. In each patio there is usually
some central erection intended as a storehouse. Into these central
courts the various doors, about four feet wide, open through a veranda
or piazza, where, chimneys being unknown, the fire is built, and where
the inmates sleep on mats spread under the piazza, or in the rooms, as
the fancy takes them. Cooking also is performed in the open air, as the
coarse earthen pots scattered over the surface prove.
“The rooms, which number from ten to twenty in a house, are windowless,
and purposely kept dark, to keep out the sun’s glare; they vary from
ten to fifteen feet in length, and from seven to eight in breadth.
The furniture is simple--rude cots and settles, earthen pots and
coarse plates, grass bags for cloth and cowries, and almost invariably
weapons, especially an old musket and its leathern case for ammunition.
The number of inhabitants may vary from ten to five hundred, and often
more in the largest. There is generally but one single large outer
door, with charms suspended over it.”
The military strength of Abeokuta has been tested by actual warfare,
and has been found to be quite adequate to repel native troops.
Generally, an African fight consists of a vast amount of noise attended
by a very small amount of slaughter, but in the various attacks of
Dahome on Abeokuta the feelings of both parties appear to have been
so completely excited that the slaughter on both sides was really
considerable.
The fact was, that each party had a long-standing grudge against the
other, and meant to gratify it. Gezo, the father of King Gelele, had
been defeated ignominiously near Abeokuta, and had even lost his stool,
the emblem of sovereignty. Burning to avenge themselves, the Dahomans
made friends with the inhabitants of Ishogga, a small town some fifteen
miles to the southwest of Abeokuta, who advised their guests as to the
particular gate which it was best to attack, the time of day when an
assault would be most likely to succeed, and a ford by which they could
pass the river.
Trusting to these counsellors, they crossed the river at the ford,
which proved to be so bad that they wetted all their ammunition. They
made the attack at mid-day, when they were told that every one would be
asleep or at work in the gardens, which are situated at a considerable
distance from the city. And when they came to the walls of the city
they found the defenders all on the alert, and ready to give them a
warm reception. Lastly, they attacked a gate which had been lately
fortified, whereas another, on the opposite side of the town, was very
weak, and might have been taken easily. Consequently, they had to
return to their own country, vowing vengeance against their treacherous
allies.
After Gezo’s death, Gelele took up the feud, and, after allaying
suspicion by continually proclaiming war against the Egbas, and as
invariably staying at home, in the tenth year he followed up his
threat with a rapid attack upon Ishogga, carried off a great number of
prisoners, and killed those whom he could not conveniently take away.
Flushed by success, he determined to assemble a large force and attack
the capital itself. In March, 1851, some fifteen or sixteen thousand
Dahoman soldiers marched against Abeokuta, and a fierce fight ensued,
the result being that the Dahomans had to retreat, leaving behind
them some two thousand killed, and wounded, and prisoners. As might
be supposed, the Amazons, being the fiercest fighters, suffered most,
while the loss on the Egban side was comparatively trifling. Ten years
afterward, another expedition marched against Abeokuta, but never
reached it, small-pox having broken out in the ranks, and frightened
the soldiers home again.
The last attack was fatal to Dahoman ambition. The Egbas, expecting
their foe, had arranged for their reception, and had driven tunnels
through their walls, so that they could make unexpected sallies on the
enemy. When the Dahoman army appeared, all the Egban soldiers were at
their posts, the women being told off to carry food and drink to the
soldiers, while some of them seized swords, and insisted on doing duty
at the walls. A sketch of this last fight is given on the next page.
As soon as the invaders approached, a strong sally was made, but, as
the Dahomans marched on without returning the fire, the Egbas dashed
back again and joined their comrades on the walls. Presently, a Dahoman
cannon was fired, dismounting itself by the force of its recoil, so as
to be of no further use, and its report was followed by an impetuous
rush at the walls. Had the Dahomans only thought of making a breach,
or even of filling up the tiny moat, they might have had a chance of
success, but as it was they had none. The soldiers, especially the
Amazons, struggled gallantly for some time; and, if individual valor
could have taken the town, they would have done so. But they were badly
commanded, the officers lost heart, and even though the soldiers were
scaling the walls, creeping through the tunnels, and fighting bravely
at the very muzzles of the enemy’s guns, they gave the order for
retreat.
Just at that time, a large body of Egbas, which had made unseen a wide
circuit, fell upon them in the rear, and completed the rout. All fled
without order, except the division which Gelele himself was commanding,
and which retired with some show of discipline, turning and firing on
their adversaries, when pressed too closely, and indeed showing what
they could have done if their officers had known their business.
The Dahomans lost everything that they had taken with them, their brass
guns, a great number of new muskets, and other weapons falling into
the hands of the enemy. Besides these, the king himself was obliged to
abandon a number of his wives and daughters, his horse, his precious
sandals with their golden crosses, his wardrobe, his carriages of which
he was so proud, his provisions, and his treasures of coral and velvet.
It was calculated that some four or five thousand Dahomans were killed
in this disastrous battle, while some fifteen hundred prisoners were
captured; the Egbas only losing forty killed, and about one hundred
wounded. True to their savage nature, the Egbas cut the corpses of the
dead to pieces, and even the women who passed by the body of a Dahoman
soldier slashed it with a knife, or pelted it with stones.
It has been thought that the Abeokutas are comparatively guiltless
in blood-shedding, but it is now known that in this respect there
is really very little difference between the three great nations of
Western Africa, except that the destruction of human life is less at
Abeokuta than at Agbome, and perhaps that the Egbas are more reticent
on the subject than the Ashantis or Dahomans. Even in Abeokuta itself,
which has been supposed to be under the influence of Christianity, an
annual human sacrifice takes place, and the same ceremony is performed
in other parts of the kingdom. As in Agbome, when a human sacrifice is
offered, it is with the intention of offering to the dead that which
is most valuable to the living. The victim is enriched with cowries,
and plied with rum until he is quite intoxicated, and then, after being
charged with all sorts of messages to the spirits of the dead, he is
solemnly decapitated. Victims are sacrificed when great men die, and
are supposed to be sent to the dead man as his attendants in the spirit
world.
As to the religion and superstitions of the Egbas, they are so exactly
like those of other Western Africans that there is little need to
mention them. It only remains to describe the remarkable system called
“Ogboni.” The Ogboni are a society of enormous power, which has been
compared, but erroneously, to freemasonry. Any one who is acquainted
with the leading principles of freemasonry, and has studied the mental
condition of the Egbas, or indeed any other West African tribe, must
see that such a parallel is ludicrously wrong. In freemasonry there are
two leading principles, the one being the unity of the Creator, and the
second the fellowship of man. Now, as the Egbas believe in numberless
gods, and have the strongest interest in slavery, it is evident that
they cannot have invented a system which is diametrically opposed to
both these tenets.
[Illustration: (1.) HEAD WORSHIP. (See page 587.)]
[Illustration: (2.) THE ATTACK ON ABEOKUTA. (See page 594.)]
The system of Ogboni is partly political and partly religious. It
may be entered by a naked boy of ten years old, provided that he be
a free-born Egba and of good repute. The fraternity extends itself
throughout the whole of the country occupied by the Egbas, and in
every village there is a hut or lodge devoted expressly to the use of
the society. The form of this lodge varies slightly, but the general
features are the same in all. “It is a long low building, only to
be distinguished by the absence of loungers, fronted by a deep and
shady veranda, with stumpy polygonal clay pillars, and a single door,
carefully closed. The panels are adorned with iron alto-relievos of
ultra-Egyptian form; snakes, hawk-headed figures, and armed horsemen in
full front, riding what are intended to be horses in profile: the whole
colored red, black, and yellow. The temples of Obatala are similarly
decorated.
“The doors have distinct panels, upon which are seen a leopard, a fish,
a serpent, and a land tortoise. Mr. Beaven remarks that one of the
carvings was a female figure, with one hand and one foot, probably a
half Obatala, or the female principle of Nature, and the monster was
remarkable for having a queue of very long hair, with a ball or globe
at the end.
“A gentleman who had an opportunity of overlooking the Ogboni lodge
from the Ake church steeple described it as a hollow building with
three courts, of which the innermost, provided with a single door, was
that reserved for the elders, the holy of holies, like the Kadasta
Kadastan of the Abyssinians. He considers that the courts are intended
for the different degrees.
“The stranger must, however, be careful what he believes concerning
these mysteries. The Rev. W. Beaven asserts that the initiated are
compelled to kneel down and drink a mixture of blood and water from
a hole in the earth. The Egbas deny this. Moreover they charge Mr.
Beaven with endeavoring to worm out their secrets for the purpose of
publication. As all are pledged to the deepest reticence, and as it
would be fatal to reveal any mystery, if any there be, we are hardly
likely to be troubled with over-information.”
The miscellaneous superstitions of the Egbas are very miscellaneous
indeed. Like the Dahomans, they divide their deities into different
classes, like the major and minor gods of the ancients, and, like them,
they occasionally deify a dead ruler, and class him with the minor
gods. The native word for the greater god is Ovisha, a title which is
prefixed to the special names of those deities. Thus, Ovisha Klá, or
the Great Ovisha, is the chief of them. His sacred emblem or symbol is
a ship, and it was he who created the first man.
The next in order is Shango, who is evidently an example of an
apotheosis, as he has the attributes of Vulcan, Hercules, Tubal Cain,
and Jupiter Tonans, and is said to have a palace of brass, and ten
thousand horses. He presides over lightning and fire, and, if thunder
strikes a house, his priest rushes into the hut to find the weapon that
Shango has cast, and is followed by a tumultuous mob, who plunder the
dwelling effectually. Captain Burton saw one of the so called Shango
stones, which was nothing but a lump of white quartz, of course placed
in the hut by the priest.
His symbol is a small wooden bat, and his worshippers carry a leathern
bag, because Shango was fond of predatory wars. If war impends, his
priest takes sixteen cowries, and flings them in the air, and those
which fall with the opening downward are thought to portend war, while
those which have the opening upward signify peace. The last of the
great three is Ipa, apparently an abstractive rather than an objective
deity. He is worshipped by a select society called the “Fathers of
Secrets,” into which none but males can be initiated. His chief priest
lives on a mountain at several days’ distance from Abeokuta, and close
by his dwelling is the sacred palm tree with sixteen boughs produced by
the nuts planted by the sixteen founders of the empire. A second priest
at Abeokuta is called the King of the Groove.
The emblem of Ipa is a palm nut with four holes, and these nuts are
used in divination, the principle being something like the mode of
casting lots with cowries. Captain Burton’s account of the proceeding
is interesting. “He counted sixteen nuts, freed them from dust, and
placed them in a bowl on the ground, full of yams half-boiled, crushed,
and covered with some acid vegetable infusion.
“His acolyte, a small boy, was then called, and made to squat near the
bowl, resting his body on the outer edge of the feet, which were turned
inward, and to take from the fetish man two or three bones, seeds, and
shells, some of which are of good, others of bad omen. Elevating them,
he rested his hands on his knees. The adept cast the nuts from one hand
to the other, retaining some in the left, and, while manipulating,
dropped others into the bowl. He then stooped down, drew with the index
and medius fingers on the yams, inspected the nuts, and occasionally
referred to the articles in the boy’s hand.”
The priests of Ipa are known by necklaces made of strings of beads
twisted together, and having ten large white and green beads at some
distance apart.
Then there is the Ovisha of children, one of which is carried about by
women who have borne twins when one of them dies or is killed. It is a
wooden little image, about seven or eight inches in height, carved into
the rude semblance of humanity. The images are nearly all made by some
men at Lagos, who charge about three shillings for each. Beside all
these deities, which may be ranked among the beneficent class, there
are evil deities, who are worshipped by way of propitiation.
Next come some semi-human deities, who serve as the correctors of
public morals. The two chief of these deities are Egugun and Oro. The
former is supposed to be a sort of a vampire, being a dead body risen
temporarily from the grave, and acts the same _rôle_ as Mumbo Jumbo
in another part of Western Africa. Egugun makes his appearance in
the villages, and very much frightens the women, who either actually
believe him to be a veritable resuscitated corpse, or who assert that
they believe it, in fear of public opinion. The adult males, and even
the free-born boys, know all about Egugun, as is likely, when the deity
in question is personated by any one who can borrow the requisite dress
from the fetish man. Captain Burton once met Egugun in the street. The
demon’s face was hidden by a plaited network, worn like a mask, and
on his head was a hood, covered with streamers of crimson and dirty
white, which hung down to his waist and mingled with similar streamers
attached to his dress. He wore on his breast a very powerful fetish,
_i. e._ a penny mirror; and his feet were covered with great shoes,
because Egugun is supposed to be a footless deity.
The other deity, Oro, has a wider range of duties, his business being
to attend to public morality. He mostly remains in the woods, and but
seldom makes his appearance in public. Oro has a very strong voice,
arising, in point of fact, from a thin slip of wood, about a foot in
length, which is tied firmly to a stick, and which produces a kind of
roaring sound when properly handled.
He is supposed to be unknown to the women, who are not allowed to be
out of their houses whenever the voice of Oro is heard. Consequently,
about seven or eight in the evening, when the well-known booming cry
of Oro is heard, the women scuffle off to their houses, and the adult
males go out into the streets, and there is at once a scene of much
excitement. Dances and tumbling, processions and speech-making, go on
with vast vigor, while the Ogboni lodges are filled with devotees, all
anxious to be talking at once, and every one giving his own opinion, no
matter how absurd it may be.
Those who have been guilty of moral offences are then proclaimed and
punished; and on some occasions there is so much business to be done
that the town is given up to Oro for an entire day. On these occasions
the women pass a very unpleasant time, their hours of imprisonment
being usually spent in quarrelling with each other. In order to make
the voice of Oro more awful, the part of the demon is played by several
of the initiated, who go into the woods in various directions, and by
sounding their wooden calls at the same time carry the idea that Oro is
omnipresent.
Oro does really act as a censor of public morals, and it is very
clear that he is attended by armed followers, who carry out a sort of
rude and extemporized justice, like that which was exercised by the
“Regulators” of America, some fifty or sixty years ago. The bodies of
delinquents have been found in the bush, their throats cut and their
legs broken by the spirit in question.
The chief, or king, of the Egbas, is known by the name of Alaké, which
is a transmissible title, like Pharaoh or Cæsar, and the whole system
of government is a kind of feudal monarchy, not unlike that of England
in the days of John. The Alaké does not reign supreme, like the King
of Dahome or Ashanti, before whom the highest in the realm prostrate
themselves and roll humbly in the dust. He is trammelled with a number
of councillors and officers, and with a sort of parliament called the
Bale, which is composed of the headmen or chiefs of the various towns.
The reader may remember that the King of Ashanti found that he was
in danger of suffering from a similar combination, and he took the
prudent measure of limiting their number while he had the power. The
Alaké has never done so, and in consequence those who are nominally and
individually his servants are practically and collectively his masters.
The Ogboni lodges have also to be consulted in any important point, so
that the private life of the Alaké of the Egbas is far from being so
agreeable as that of the King of Dahome.
Okekunu, the Alaké at the time when Captain Burton lived in Abeokuta,
was an ill-favored, petulant, and cunning old ruler. In his way, he was
fond of state, and delighted to exhibit his so called power in a manner
truly African, displaying an equal amount of pageantry and trashiness.
If he goes to pay a visit, he must needs do so under a huge pink silk
umbrella, at the end of a motley procession. At the head is carried
the sacred emblem of royalty, a wooden stool covered with coarse red
serge, which is surrounded by a number of chiefs, who pay the greatest
attention to it. A long train of ragged swordsmen followed; and last
came the Alaké, clothed in a “Guinea fowl” shirt--a spotted article
of some value--and a great red velvet robe under which he tottered
along with much difficulty. He wears trousers of good purple velvet
with a stripe of gold tinsel, and on his feet are huge slippers, edged
with monkey skin. On his head he wears a sort of fez cap of crimson
velvet, the effect of which is ruined by a number of blue beads hung
fringe-wise round the top. The string of red coral beads hangs round
the neck, and a double bracelet of the same material is wound upon each
wrist. A view of him and his court may be found on the 605th page.
When he receives a visitor, he displays his grandeur by making his
visitors wait for a time proportionate to their rank, but, in case
they should be of great consequence, he alleviates the tediousness of
the time by sending them rum and gin, both of the very worst quality;
and, if they be of exceptionally high rank, he will send a bottle
of liquors, _i. e._ spirits of wine and water, well sweetened, and
flavored with a few drops of essential oil.
To a stranger, the place presents a mean and ugly appearance, and as,
Captain Burton remarks, is as unworthy of Abeokuta as St. James’s is
of London. It is a tumble-down “swish” house, long and rambling, and
has several courts. Along one side of the inner court runs a veranda,
the edge of which comes within some four feet of the ground, and is
supported by huge clay pillars. Five hexagonal columns divide the
veranda into compartments, the centre of which is the Alaké’s private
room, and is kept veiled by a curtain. The veranda, or ante-chamber,
is filled with the great men of Abeokuta, and, according to Burton’s
account, they are the most villanous-looking set of men that can well
be conceived; and although he has seen as great a variety of faces
as any one, he says that he never saw such hideous heads and faces
elsewhere.
“Their skulls were depressed in front, and projecting cocoa-nut-like
behind; the absence of beards, the hideous lines and wrinkles that
seared and furrowed the external parchment, and the cold, unrelenting
cruelty of their physiognomy in repose, suggested the idea of the
eunuch torturers erst so common in Asia. One was sure that for pity or
mercy it would be as well to address a wounded mandril. The atrocities
which these ancients have witnessed, and the passion which they have
acquired for horrors, must have set the mark of the beast upon their
brows.”
Though the assemblage consisted of the richest men of the Egbas, not a
vestige of splendor or wealth appeared about any of them, the entire
clothing of the most powerful among them being under sixpence in value.
In fact, they dare not exhibit wealth, knowing that, if they should do
so, it would be confiscated.
As for the Alaké himself, his appearance was not much more
prepossessing than that of his subjects. Okekunu was a large,
brawny, and clumsy-looking man, nearly seventy years of age, and his
partially-shaven head did not add to his beauty. Besides, he had lost
all his upper teeth except the canines, so that his upper lip sank into
an unpleasant depression. His lower teeth were rapidly decaying from
his habit of taking snuff negro fashion, by placing it between the
lower lip and the teeth, and, in consequence of the gap, the tip of his
tongue protruded in a very disagreeable manner. He had lost one eye by
a blow from a stone, and, as he assumed a semi-comatose expression,
was not a pleasant person to look at, and certainly not very regal in
aspect.
The king must be selected from one of four tribes, and both the present
king and his predecessor belonged to the Ake tribe.
CHAPTER LIX.
BONNY.
THE PRINCIPAL TRADE OF BONNY -- KING PEPPEL AND HIS HISTORY --
THE DEFRAUDED EMIGRANTS -- MR. READE’S INTERVIEW WITH PEPPEL --
ARCHITECTURE OF BONNY -- THE JU-JU HOUSES, PRIVATE AND PUBLIC --
CANNIBALISM AT BONNY -- THE JU-JU EXECUTION -- WHY THE EXECUTIONER
DID NOT EAT THE HEAD -- DAILY LIFE OF A BONNY GENTLEMAN -- DRESS OF
MEN AND WOMEN -- SUPERSTITIONS -- MUMBO-JUMBO AND HIS OFFICE -- LAST
RESOURCE OF A HEN-PECKED HUSBAND -- A TERRIBLE GREGREE AND ITS RESULT
-- THE GREGREE MEN OR MAGICIANS -- INGENIOUS MODE OF WEAVING THEIR
SPELLS -- ESCAPE OF AN IMPOSTOR.
Passing a little southward along the west coast, we come to the
well-known Bonny River, formerly the great slave depot of Western
Africa, and now the centre of the palm-oil trade. Unfortunately there
is as much cheating in the palm-oil trade as in gold and ivory; the two
latter being plugged, and the former mixed with sand, so that it has to
be boiled down before it can be sent from the coast.
Bonny is familiar to English ears on account of the yellow-black chief
who was pleased to call himself king, and who was well known in England
as Pepper, King of Bonny. His name is varied as Pepper, Pimento, or
Peppel. He is descended from Obullo, an Ibo (or Eboe) chief, who
settled with his slaves on the Bonny River, and who was succeeded by
his son and grandson, each of whom took the name of Pepper.
Being of a quarrelsome disposition, the present king shot a wife
because she displeased him, murdered a chief called Manilla Peppel
because he was jealous, and was ruining the trade of the river by his
perpetual wars with the Calabars. So, at the request of all the native
chiefs and traders, he was deposed, and his nephew Daphe placed in his
stead. Daphe, however, died soon afterward,--poisoned, it is believed,
at Peppel’s instigation; and then the government was handed over to
four regents, while Pimento was transported to Ascension, a place which
he was afterward fond of calling his St. Helena. However, he proved
himself to be a clever savage, and, by dint of importunity, contrived
to be taken to England, where he arrived in 1857.
Possessing to the full the imitative capacity of the negro, he adopted
English customs with wonderful facility, abandoning, according to
Captain Burton, his favorite dish of a boy’s palms, and drinking
champagne and sherry instead of trade rum. Soon he became religious,
was baptized, and turned teetotaler, gaining thereby the good-will of a
large class of people. He asked for twenty thousand pounds to establish
a missionary station, and actually induced a number of English who knew
nothing of Africa, or the natural mendacity of the African savage, to
accompany him as his suite, promising them splendid salaries and high
rank at court.
No one who knows the negro character will be surprised to hear
that when the king and his suite arrived at Bonny the latter found
themselves cheated and ruined. They discovered that the “palace” was a
collection of hovels inside a mud wall; that Bonny itself was nothing
more than a quantity of huts in a mud flat; and that the best street
was infinitely more filthy than the worst street in the worst part of
London. As to the private life of the king, the less said about it the
better.
Their health rapidly failed under the privations which they suffered,
and the horrible odors of the Bonny River, which are so sickening that
even the hardened traveller Captain Burton had to stop his experienced
nostrils with camphorated cotton, as he was rowed up the river at low
water. As to the royal salaries and apartments in the palace, they were
found to be as imaginary as the palace itself and the rank at court,
the king presenting each of the officials with a couple of yams as an
equivalent for pay and lodging.
How genuine was the civilization and Christianity and teetotalism of
Peppel may be imagined from an interview which Mr. W. Reade had with
him after his return:--“I went ashore with the doctor on a visit to
Peppel, the famous king of Bonny.... In one of the hovels was seated
the monarch, and the scene was well adapted to the muse of his poet
laureate. The Africans have a taste for crockery ware, much resembling
that of the last generation for old china, and a predilection for dog
flesh, which is bred expressly for the table, and exposed for sale in
the public market.
“And there sat Peppel, who had lived so long in England; behind him
a pile of willow-pattern crockery, before him a calabash of dog stew
and palaver sauce. It is always thus with these savages. The instincts
inherited from their forefathers will ever triumph over a sprinkling
of foreign reason. Their intellects have a _rete mucosum_ as well as
their skins. As soon as they return to their own country, take they
off all their civilization and their clothes, and let body and mind go
naked. Like most negroes of rank, Peppel has a yellow complexion, as
light as that of a mulatto. His features express intelligence, but of a
low and cunning kind. In every word and look he exhibits that habit of
suspicion which one finds in half-civilized natures.”
Peppel, although restored to Bonny, has scarcely any real power, even
in his own limited dominions, from which he dares not stir. Yet, with
the cool impudence of a thorough savage, he actually proposed to
establish a consul in London at a salary of 500_l._, stating as his
reason that he had always allowed the English consuls to visit his
dominions in the Bight of Benin.
The architecture of the Bonny country is not very elaborate, being
composed of swish and wattle, supported by posts. The floors and walls
are of mud, which can be obtained in any amount, and the general look
of the houses has been well compared to Africanized Swiss, the roofs
being very high, and the gables very sharp. Ordinary houses have three
rooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a Ju-ju room or chapel; but those
of the wealthy men have abundance of chambers and passages. There are
no chimneys, and as the door must therefore be kept open if a fire
is lighted, the threshold is at least eighteen inches high, in order
to prevent the intrusion of strange beasts. It is not thought to be
etiquette to step over the threshold when the master of the house is
sitting within, or he will be afflicted with sickness, thinking himself
bewitched.
The Ju-ju room or chapel is a necessary adjunct to every Bonny house,
and within it is the fetish, or Ju-ju, which is the guardian of the
house, and corresponds with the Lares and Penates of the ancients.
The negro contrives to utilize the ju-ju room, making it a storehouse
for his most valued property, such as cowries, or rum, knowing that
no one will touch it in so sacred a place. As to the Ju-ju itself,
anything answers the purpose, and an Englishman is sometimes troubled
to preserve his gravity when he sees a page of _Punch_, a cribbage peg,
a pill box, or a pair of braces, doing duty as the household god of the
establishment.
The great Ju-ju house of the place is a most ghastly-looking edifice,
and is well described by Captain Burton. It is built of swish, and is
an oblong roofless house, of forty or fifty feet in length. A sort of
altar is placed at the end, sheltered from the rain by a small roof of
its own. Under the roof are nailed rows of human skulls mostly painted
in different colors, and one of them is conspicuous by a large black
beard, which is doubtless a rude copy of the beard worn by the man
to whom it originally belonged. Between them are rows of goat skulls
streaked with red and white, while other skulls are strewn about the
floor, and others again are impaled on the tops of sticks. Under the
altar is a round hole with a raised clay rim, in which is received the
blood of the victims together with the sacred libations. Within this
Ju-ju house are buried the bodies of the kings.
This house well illustrates the character of the people--a race which
take a positive pleasure in the sight of blood, and in inflicting and
witnessing pain. All over the country the traveller comes upon scenes
of blood, pain, and suffering. There is hardly a village where he does
not come upon animals tied in some agonizing position and left to die
there. Goats and fowls are mostly fastened to posts with their heads
downward, and blood is the favorite color for painting the faces of
men. Even the children of prisoners taken in war--the war in question
being mostly an unsuspected attack on an unprepared village--are hung
by the middle from the masts of the canoes, while the parents are
reserved to be sacrificed and eaten.
About this last statement there has been much incredulity, and of
course, when questioned, the Bonny negroes flatly deny the accusation.
There is, however, no doubt of the fact, inasmuch as Europeans have
witnessed the act of cannibalism. For example, old King Peppel, the
father of the Pimento whose life has been briefly sketched, gave a
great banquet in honor of a victory which he had gained over Calabar,
and in which Amakree, the king of that district, was taken prisoner.
The European traders were invited to the banquet, and were most
hospitably entertained. They were, however, horrified to see the
principal dish which was placed before Peppel. It was the bleeding
heart of Amakree, warm and palpitating as it was torn from the body.
Peppel devoured the heart with the greatest eagerness, exclaiming at
the same time, “This is the way I serve my enemies.”
More recently, Dr. Hutchinson witnessed a scene of cannibalism. He had
heard that something of the kind was contemplated, although it was kept
very quiet. On the appointed morning he had himself rowed to the shore
at some distance from the Ju-ju house, near which he concealed himself,
and waited for the result. The rest of the adventure must be told in
his own words.
“I know not of what kind are the sensations felt by those around
Newgate, waiting for an execution in the very heart of London’s great
city; but I know that on the banks of an African river, in the gray
dawn of morning, when the stillness was of that oppressive nature which
is calculated to produce the most gloomy impressions, with dense vapors
and foul smells arising from decomposing mangroves and other causes of
malaria floating about, with a heaviness of atmosphere that depressed
the spirits, amidst a community of cannibals, I _do_ know that,
although under the protection of a man-of-war, I felt on this occasion
a combined sensation of suspense, anxiety, horror, and indefinable
dread of I cannot tell what, that I pray God it may never be my fate to
endure again.
“Day broke, and, nearly simultaneous with its breaking, the sun shone
out. As I looked through the slit in the wall on the space between my
place of concealment and the Ju-ju house, I observed no change from
its appearance the evening before. No gibbet, nor axe, nor gallows,
nor rope--no kind of preparation, nothing significant of death, save
the skulls on the pillars of the Ju-ju house, that seemed leering at
me with an expression at once strange and vacant. It would have been
a relief in the awful stillness of the place to have heard something
of what I had read of the preparations for an execution in Liverpool
or London--of the hammering suggestive of driving nails into scaffold,
drop, or coffin, of a crowd gathering round the place before early
dawn, and of the solemn tolling of the bell that chimed another soul
into eternity. Everything seemed as if nothing beyond the routine of
daily life were to take place.
“Could it be that I had been misinformed; that the ceremony was
adjourned to another time, or was to be carried out elsewhere? No, a
distant murmur of gabbling voices was heard approaching nearer and
nearer, till, passing the corner house on my left, I saw a group of
negroes--an indiscriminate crowd of all ages and both sexes--so huddled
together that no person whom I could particularly distinguish as
either an executioner or a culprit was visible among them. But above
their clattering talk came the sound of a clanking chain that made one
shudder.
“They stopped in the middle of the square opposite the Ju-ju house, and
ceased talking. One commanding voice uttered a single word, and down
they sat upon the grass, forming a circle round two figures, standing
upright in the centre--the executioner and the man about to be killed.
The former was remarkable only by the black skull-cap which he had on
him, and by a common cutlass which he held in his hand. The latter
had chains round his neck, his wrists, and his ankles. There was no
sign of fear or cowardice about _him_--no seeming consciousness of
the dreadful fate before him--no evidence even upon his face of that
dogged stubbornness which is said to be exhibited by some persons about
to undergo an ignominious death. Save that he stood upright one would
scarcely have known that he was alive. Amongst the spectators, too,
there was a silent impassiveness which was appalling. Not a word, nor
gesture, nor glance of sympathy, that could make me believe I looked at
beings who had a vestige of humanity among them. (See illustration on
p. 619.)
“As the Ju-ju butcher stepped back and measured his distance to make an
effectual swoop at his victim’s neck, the man moved not a muscle, but
stood as if he were unconscious--till----
“Chop! The first blow felled him to the ground. The noise of a chopper
tailing on meat is familiar to most people. No other sound was
here--none from the man; not a whisper nor a murmur from those who were
seated about! I was nearly crying out in mental agony, and the sound of
that first stroke will haunt my ears to my dying day. How I wished some
one to talk or scream, to destroy the impression of that fearful hough,
and the still more awful silence that followed it!
“Again the weapon was raised to continue the decapitation--another blow
as the man lay prostrate, and then a sound broke the silence! But, O
Father of mercy! of what a kind was that noise--a gurgle and a gasp,
accompanying the dying spasm of the struck-down man!
“Once more the weapon was lifted--I saw the blood flow in gory horror
down the blade to the butcher’s hand, and there it was visible, in
God’s bright sunshine, to the whole host of heaven. Not a word had
yet been uttered by the crowd. More chopping and cleaving, and the
head, severed from the body, was put by the Ju-ju executioner into a
calabash, which was carried off by one of his women to be cooked. He
then repeated another cabalistic word, or perhaps the same as at first,
and directly all who were seated rose up, whilst he walked away.
“A yell, such as reminded me of a company of tigers, arose from the
multitude--cutlasses were flourished as they crowded round the body of
the dead man--sounds of cutting and chopping arose amidst the clamor
of the voices, and I began to question myself whether, if I were on
the other side of the river Styx, I should see what I was looking at
here through the little slit in the wall of my hiding-place: a crowd of
human vultures gloating over the headless corpse of a murdered brother
negro--boys and girls walking away from the crowd, holding pieces of
bleeding flesh in their hands, while the dripping life-fluid marked
their road as they went along; and one woman snapping from the hands
of another--both of them raising their voices in clamor--a part of the
body of that poor man, in whom the breath of life was vigorous not a
quarter of an hour ago.
“The whole of the body was at length divided, and nothing left behind
but the blood. The intestines were taken away to be given to an
iguana--the Bonny-man’s tutelary guardian. But the blood was still
there, in glistening pools, though no more notice was taken of it by
the gradually dispersing crowd than if it were a thing as common in
that town as heaven’s bright dew is elsewhere. A few dogs were on the
spot, who devoured the fragments. Two men arrived to spread sand over
the place, and there was no interruption to the familiar sound of
coopers’ hammering just beginning in the cask-houses, or to the daily
work of hoisting palm-oil puncheons on board the ships.”
On passing the Ju-ju house afterward, Dr. Hutchinson saw the relics
of this sacrifice. They consisted of the larger bones of the body and
limbs, which had evidently been cooked, and every particle of flesh
eaten from them. The head is the perquisite of the executioner, as has
already been mentioned. Some months afterward, Dr. Hutchinson met the
same executioner, who was said to have exercised his office again a
few days previously, and to have eaten the head of his victim. Being
upbraided with having committed so horrible an act, he replied that he
had not eaten the head--his cook having spoiled it by not having put
enough pepper to it.
The whole life of the Bonny-man, and indeed of all the many tribes
that inhabit the neighborhood of the Niger and live along it, is in
accordance with the traits which have been mentioned. Of course,
the women do all the real work, the man’s working day being usually
employed in coming on board some trading ship early in the morning,
chaffering with the agent, and making bargains as well as he can. He
asks for everything he sees, on the principle that, even if it be
refused, he is no worse after than before: contrives to breakfast as
many times as possible at the ship’s expense, and about mid-day goes
home to repose after the fatigues of the day.
As to his dress, it consists of a cloth, in the choice of which he is
very fastidious. A handkerchief is folded diagonally and passed through
the loop of his knife belt, so as to attach it to his right side, and
this, with a few strings of beads and rings, completes his costume. His
woolly hair is combed out with the coarsest imaginable comb, made of a
few wooden skewers lashed side by side, and diverging from each other
toward the points, and his skin is polished up with palm oil.
The women’s working day is a real fact, being begun by washing clothes
in the creek, and consisting of making nets, hats, lines, and mats,
and going to market. These are the favorites, and their life is a
comparatively easy one; while the others, on whom their despotic master
does not deign to cast an eye of affection, are simply his slaves, and
are subjected to water drawing, wood cutting, catching and curing fish.
The dress of the women is not unlike that of the opposite sex, the
chief distinction being that their fashionable paint is blue instead
of red. The coloring is put on by a friend, usually one who regularly
practises the art of painting the human body in patterns. Checkers,
like those that were once so common on the door posts of public houses,
are very much in favor, and so are wavy stripes, beginning with lines
scarcely thicker than hairs, and swelling out to half an inch or more
in breadth. Arabesque patterns, curves, and scrolls are also largely
used.
Throughout a considerable portion of that part of Western Africa which
is inhabited by the negroes there is found a semi-human demon, who is
universally respected, at least by the feminine half of the community.
His name is MUMBO JUMBO, and his sway is upheld by the men, while the
women have no alternative but to submit to it.
On the branch of a tree near the entrance of each town hangs a dress,
made of slips of bark sewed rudely together. It is the simplest
possible dress, being little more than a bark sack, with a hole at
the top for the head and another at each side for the hands. Close
by it hangs an equally simple mask, made of an empty gourd, with two
round holes for the eyes of the wearer, and decorated with a tuft of
feathers. In order to make it more fantastically hideous, the mask is
painted with scarlet, so that it looks very much like the face of a
clown in a pantomime.
At night the people assemble as usual to sing and dance, when suddenly
faint distant howlings are heard in the woods. This is the cry of
Mumbo Jumbo, and all the women feel horribly frightened, though they
are obliged to pretend to be delighted. The cries are heard nearer
and nearer, and at last Mumbo Jumbo himself, followed by a number
of attendants armed with sticks, and clothed in the dress which is
kept for his use, appears in the noisy circle, carrying a rod in
his hand. He is loudly welcomed, and the song and dance go on around
him with delight. Suddenly, Mumbo Jumbo walks up to one of the women
and touches her with his rod. His attendants instantly seize on the
unfortunate woman, tear off all her clothes, drag her to a post which
is always kept for such occasions, tie her to it, and indict a terrific
beating on her. No one dares to pity her. The men are not likely to
do so, and the women all laugh and jeer at their suffering companion,
pointing at her and mocking her cries: partly because they fear that
should they not do so they might be selected for the next victims, and
partly because--like the savages that they are at heart--they feel
an exultation at seeing some one suffering a penalty which they have
escaped. (See engraving.)
The offence for which the woman has suffered is perfectly well known
by all the spectators, and by none better than by the sufferer
herself. The fact is, she has been bad-tempered at home, quarrelling,
in all probability, with her fellow wives, and has not yielded to
the admonitions of her husband. Consequently, at the next favorable
opportunity, either the husband himself, or a man whom he has
instructed, indues the dress of Mumbo Jumbo, and indicts a punishment
which serves equally as a corrective to the disobedient wife and a
warning to others that they had better not follow her example.
Mumbo Jumbo does not always make his appearance on these nocturnal
festivities, as the men know that he inspires more awe if he is
reserved for those instances in which the husband has tried all the
means in his power to keep the peace at home, but finds that his
unsupported authority is no more respected. The reader will remember
that a demon of a similar character is to be found in Dahome.
It is to be wished that all the superstitions of the land were as
harmless as that of Mumbo Jumbo, which nobody believes, though every
one pretends to do so, and which, at all events, has some influence
on the domestic peace. Some of them, however, are very terrible, and
involve an amount of human suffering which would deter any but a savage
from performing them. It is very difficult to learn the nature of
these superstitions, as the negroes always try to conceal them from
Europeans, especially when they involve the shedding of blood. One
astounding instance has, however, been related. A town was in danger of
attack from a powerful tribe that inhabited the neighborhood, and the
king was so much alarmed that he sent for the magicians, and consulted
with them as to the best method of repelling the enemy.
Accordingly, the people were summoned together in front of the
principal gate, when two holes were dug in the ground close to each
other. Songs and dances began as usual, until suddenly the chief
magician pointed to a girl who was standing among the spectators. She
was instantly seized, and a leg thrust into each hole, which was then
filled up with earth so that she could not move. By command of the
magicians, a number of men brought lumps of wet clay, which they built
around her body in a pillar-like form, kneading them closely as they
proceeded, and gradually covering her with clay. At last even her head
was covered with the clay, and the poor victim of superstition soon
ceased to breathe. This clay pillar with the body of the girl within it
stood for years in front of the gate, and so terrified were the hostile
tribes at so powerful a fetish, or gregree, that they dared not carry
out their plan of attack.
The natives erect these gregrees on every imaginable occasion, and so
ward off every possible calamity; and, as they will pay freely for such
safeguards, the fetish men are naturally unwilling to refuse a request,
and so to break up a profitable trade. They are, of course, aware
that their clients will in many cases suffer from the very calamity
which they sought to avoid, and that they will come to make bitter
complaints. They therefore take care to impose on the recipient some
condition by way of a loop-hole, through which they may escape. On one
such instance the man bought a fetish against fever, which, however,
seized him and nearly killed him. The condition which had been imposed
on him was abstinence from goat’s flesh, and this condition he knew
that he had fulfilled. But the fetish man was not to be baffled by such
a complaint, and utterly discomfited his angry client by asserting
that, when his patient was dining at another town, a personal enemy,
who knew the conditions on which the gregree was given, dropped a
little goat’s-flesh broth into his bowl, and so broke the spell.
Absolute faith in the gregree is another invariable condition. On one
stormy day a party of natives had to cross the river, and applied
for a gregree against accidents. They crossed safely enough, but on
recrossing the boat was upset, and some of the party were drowned.
The survivors went in a body to the gregree maker, and upbraided him
with the accident. He heard them very patiently, and then informed the
complainants that the misfortune was entirely caused by the incredulity
of the steersman, who tried to sound the river with his paddle in order
to discover whether they were in shallow water. This action indicated
mistrust, and so the power of the spell was broken. The cunning fellow
had seen the accident, and, having ascertained that the steersman had
been drowned, made the assertion boldly, knowing that the men had been
too frightened to observe closely, and that the accused could not
contradict the statement.
[Illustration: (1.) THE ALAKÉ’S COURT. (See page 599.)]
[Illustration: (2.) MUMBO JUMBO. (See page 604.)]
CHAPTER LX.
THE MANDINGOES.
LANGUAGE AND APPEARANCE OF THE MANDINGOES -- THEIR RELIGION -- BELIEF
IN AMULETS -- A MANDINGO SONG -- MARRIAGE AND CONDITION OF THE WOMEN
-- NATIVE COOKERY-A MANDINGO KING -- INFLUENCE OF MAHOMETANISM.
Before proceeding across the continent toward Abyssinia, we must
briefly notice the Mandingo nation, who inhabit a very large tract
of the country through which the Senegal and Gambia flow. They are
deserving of notice, if it were only on the ground that their language
is more widely spread than any that is spoken in that part of Africa,
and that any traveller who desires to dispense as far as possible
with the native interpreters, who cannot translate literally if they
would, and would not if they could, is forced to acquire the language
before proceeding through the country. Fortunately it is a peculiarly
melodious language, almost as soft as the Italian, nearly all the words
ending in a vowel.
In appearance the Mandingoes are tall and well made, and have the
woolly hair, though not the jetty skin and enormous lips, of the true
negro. “The structure of the language,” says Mr. M’Brair, who has
made it his special study, “is thoroughly Eastern. In some of its
grammatical forms it resembles the Hebrew and Syriac; its most peculiar
sound is of the Malay family; its method of interrogation is similar
to that of the Chinese, and in the composition of some verbs it is
like the Persian. A few religious terms have been borrowed from the
Arabic, and some articles of foreign manufacture are called after their
European names.”
As a rule, the religion of the Mandingoes is Mahometanism, modified to
suit the people, but they still retain enough of the original negro
character to have an intense faith in gregrees, which are made for
them by the marabouts, or holy men, and almost invariably consist of
sentences of the Koran, sewed up in little leathern cases beautifully
tanned and stamped in patterns. Mahometanism has put an end to the
noisy songs and dances which make night hideous; but the Mandingoes
contrive, nevertheless, to indulge their taste for religious noise at
night. Instead of singing profane songs they sing or intone the Koran,
bawling the sacred sentences at the full stretch of their voices, and
murdering sleep as effectually as if they had been still benighted
idolaters singing praises in honor of the moon. Some ceremonies in
honor of the moon still remain, but are quite harmless. When it
appears, they salute it by spitting in their hands and waving them
round their heads. For eclipses they account by saying that there is
a large cat living somewhere in the sky, who puts her paw between the
moon and the earth.
They are very strict Mahometans indeed, the marabouts always calling
them to prayers one hour before sunrise; that, according to theological
astronomy, being the time at which the sun rises at Mecca. Mahometanism
has done much for the Mandingoes. It has substituted monotheism
for idolatry, and totally abolished human sacrifices. It has not
extirpated the innate negro character of the Mandingoes; but it has
raised them greatly in the scale of humanity. It has not cured them of
lying and stealing--neither of which vices, by the way, are confined
to idolaters; but it has brought them to abhor the system of child
selling, which is so ingrained in the ordinary negro, and a Mandingo
Mahometan will not even sell a slave unless there is just cause of
complaint against him.
The Rhamadan, or Mahometan fast, is rigidly observed by the Mandingoes,
and it is no small proof of the power of their religious system that it
has made a negro abstain from anything which he likes.
The principal rite of Mahometanism is of course practised by the
Mandingoes, who have contrived to engraft upon it one of their own
superstitions, namely, that if a lad remains uncircumcised, he is
swallowed by a peripatetic demon, who carries him for nine days in his
belly. This legend is religiously believed, and no one has yet been
daring enough to put it to the test.
Fourteen years is the usual age for performing this ceremony, whole
companies of lads partaking of it at the same time, and proceeding
to the appointed spot, accompanied by their friends and relatives,
who dance and sing songs by the way, neither of them being peculiarly
delicate. Here the old negro nature shows itself again, proving the
truth of the axiom that nature expelled with a pitchfork always comes
back again. After the ceremony they pass a month in an intermediate
state of existence. They have taken leave of their boyhood, and are
not yet men. So until the expiration of the month they are allowed
unlimited license, but after that time they become men, and are ranked
with their fathers. Even the girls undergo a ceremony of a somewhat
similar character, the officiants being the wives of the marabouts.
As a natural consequence of this religion, which is a mixture of
Mahometanism engrafted upon fetishism, the marabouts hold much the
same exalted position as the fetish men of the idolaters, and are the
most important men of the community. They do not dress differently
from the laity, but are distinguished by the colors of their caps,
which are of some brilliant hue, such as red, blue, or yellow. The
whole of education is in their hands, some being itinerant teachers,
and others establishing regular schools. Others, again, mingle the
characters of musicians and merchants, and all make the principal part
of their living by the sale of amulets, which are nothing more than
Mahometanized gregrees. So great is the demand for these amulets, that
a wealthy man is sometimes absolutely enclosed in a leathern cuirass
composed of nothing but amulets sewed up in their neat leathern cases.
One of the Mandingo songs, translated by Mr. W. Reade, shows clearly
the opinion in which these men are held. “If you know how to write
Marabout (_i. e._ Arabic, and not Mandingo), you will become one of the
disciples of God. If you know Marabout, you are the greatest of your
family. You maintain them. If they commit a fault, it is you who will
protect them.”
Another of these proverbial sayings expresses the uselessness of
gregrees. “The Tubabs went against Galam. The King of Maiel said to
a woman, ‘Take your child, put it in a mortar, and pound it to dust.
From its dust I will make a man rise who will save our town.’ The woman
pounded her child to dust. From the dust came a man; _but the Tubabs
took Maiel_.” The “Tubabs” are the French, and the saying evidently
refers to the manufacture of a gregree similar in character to that
which has been mentioned on page 604.
Still, their innate belief in the power of gregrees is too strong to be
entirely eradicated; and if one of their chief men dies, they keep his
death secret, and bury his body in a private spot, thinking that if an
enemy could get possession of his blade-bone he would make a gregree
with it, by means of which he could usurp the kingdom for himself.
Marriages are solemnized by the marabout, in the mosque, with an odd
mixture of native and borrowed ceremonies. Next to the marabout the
bridegroom’s sister plays the most important part at the ceremony and
in the future household; gives the article of clothing which takes the
place of our wedding ring, and which in this country would be thought
rather ominous,--namely, a pair of trousers,--and, if a child be born
of the marriage, has the privilege of naming it. Polygamy is, of
course, the rule, and each woman has her own house. So, when a girl is
married, she stays with her parents until her own house is built, when
she is conducted to it in great state by her young friends, who sing a
mournful song deploring the loss of their companion.
The women have every reason to be contented with their lot. They are
not degraded slaves, like the married women in so many parts of Africa,
and, if anything, have the upper hand of their husbands. “They are the
most tyrannical wives in Africa,” writes Mr. Reade. “They know how to
make their husbands kneel before their charms, and how to place their
little feet upon them. When they are threatened with divorce, they
shed tears, and, if a man repudiates his wife, they attack him _en
masse_--they hate, but protect, each other.
“They go to this unfortunate husband, who has never felt or enjoyed
a quiet moment in his own house, and say, ‘Why do you ill treat your
wife? A woman is helpless; a man has all things. Go, recall her, and,
to appease her just anger, make her a kind present.’ The husband prays
for forgiveness, and, when his entreaties take the form of a bullock or
a slave, she consents to return.”
The food of the Mandingoes is chiefly rice and milk, but when they are
wealthy they indulge in many luxuries. The same author who has just
been quoted gives the details of an entertainment cooked by half-bred
Mandingoes. First they had oysters plucked from the branches of
trees, to which they attached themselves at high water, and were left
suspended when the floods recede. Then there were soles, carp, and
mullet, all very bad, but very well cooked. “Then followed gazelle
cutlets _à la papillote_; two small monkeys served cross-legged and
with liver sauce, on toast; stewed iguana, which was much admired; a
dish of roasted crocodiles’ eggs; some slices of smoked elephant (from
the interior), which none of us could touch; a few agreeable plates of
fried locusts, land-crabs (previously fattened), and other crustaceæ;
the breasts of a mermaid, or manatee, the grand _bonne-bouche_ of
the repast; some boiled alligator, which had a taste between pork
and cod, with the addition of a musky flavor; and some hippopotamus’
steaks--_aux pommes de terre_.
“We might have obtained a better dessert at Covent Garden, where we can
see the bright side of the tropics without the trouble or expense of
travelling. But we had pineapples, oranges, roasted plantains, silver
bananas, papaus (which, when made into a tart with cloves, might be
taken for apples), and a variety of fruits which had long native names,
curious shapes, and all of them very nasty tastes. The celebrated
‘cabbage,’ or topmost bud of the palm tree, also formed part of the
repast, and it is said to be the finest vegetable in the world. When
stewed _en sauce blanche_, it is not to be compared with any vegetable
of mortal growth. It must have been the ambrosia of the gods.”
The Mandingoes who have not embraced Mahometanism are much inferior to
their compatriots who have renounced their fetishism. Mr. Reade tells
a ludicrous story of a native “king,” who was even dirtier than any
of his subjects, and if possible was uglier, his face being devoid of
intelligence and utterly brutish; he made long speeches in Mandingo,
which, as usual with such speeches, were simply demands for everything
he saw, and acted in a manner so consonant with his appearance, that
he excited universal disgust, and remarks were made very freely on the
disadvantages of being entirely in a savage state, and never having
mixed with superior beings.
At last the tedious interpreting business was at an end, and nothing
remained except the number of kola nuts to be given as the present of
friendship--a customary ceremony in this country. Six had been given,
and the king made a long speech, which turned out to be a request for
more. “Well, we can’t very well refuse the dirty ruffian,” said the
visitor; “give him four more, that will make ten.”
“_Make it twenty_” cried the king eagerly, forgetting that his _rôle_
was to appear ignorant of English. He had lived for some years at
Sierra Leone, and could speak English as well as any one when he chose,
and had heard all the remarks upon his peculiar appearance without
giving the least indication that he understood a word that was said.
One of the old superstitions which still holds its own against the
advance of Mahometanism is one which belongs to an island on the Upper
River. On this island there is a mountain, and on the mountain lives
a spirit who has the unpleasant power of afflicting human beings so
severely that they can never sit down for the rest of their lives.
Therefore, on passing the hill, it is necessary to unclothe the body
from the waist downward, to turn the back to the mountain, and pray the
spirit to have compassion on his votaries, and continue to them the
privilege of sitting. Every one is forced to undergo this ceremony, but
fortunately the spirit is content if it be performed by deputy, and
all travellers therefore, whether men or women, pay natives of their
own sex to perform this interesting rite for them. However, like the
well-known etiquette of crossing the line, this ceremony need only
be performed on the first time of passing the hill, the spirit being
satisfied with the tribute to his power.
The universal superstition respecting the power of human beings
to change themselves into bestial shapes still reigns among the
Mandingoes, and it is rather doubtful whether even the followers
of Mohammed have shaken themselves quite free from the old belief.
The crocodile is the animal whose form is most usually taken among
the Mandingoes, and on one occasion a man who had been bitten by a
crocodile, and narrowly escaped with his life, not only said that the
reptile was a metamorphosed man, but even named the individual whom he
knew himself to have offended a few days before the accident.
CHAPTER LXI.
THE BUBÉS AND CONGOESE.
REAL NAME OF THE BUBÉS -- THEIR LIMITED RANGE -- APPEARANCE AND
MANNERS OF THE MEN -- TOLA PASTE -- REASONS FOR NUDITY -- BUBÉ
ARCHITECTURE -- GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE BUBÉS -- A WEDDING AT
FERNANDO PO -- CONGO -- ITS GEOGRAPHICAL POSITION -- CURIOUS TAXATION
-- RELIGION OF CONGO -- THE CHITOME AND HIS POWERS -- HIS DEATH,
AND LAW OF SUCCESSION -- THE NGHOMBO AND HIS MODE OF WALKING -- THE
ORDEAL -- CEREMONY OF CROWNING A KING -- THE ROYAL ROBES -- THE WOMEN
OF CONGO -- EARLY HISTORY OF THE COUNTRY -- THE FEMALE MONARCH -- THE
FATE OF TEMBANDUMBA.
The Bubé tribe (which unfortunately is pronounced Booby) is a really
interesting one, and, but for the rapidly decreasing space, would be
described in detail. The real name of the tribe is Adizah, but, as they
are in the habit of addressing others as Bubé, _i. e._ Man, the term
has clung to them.
The Bubés inhabit Fernando Po, and, although some of them believe
themselves to be aborigines of the island, have evidently come from the
mainland. They have, however, no particular pride in their autocthonic
origin, and, if questioned, are perfectly content to say that they came
from their parents.
The Bubés inhabit only one zone in Fernando Po. The sea air is too
soft and warm for them, and, besides, there is danger of being carried
off by the slavers. More than three thousand feet above the sea they
cannot exist, not because the climate is too cold, but because the
palms and plantains on which they live will not flourish there. With
the exception of those individuals who have come under the sway of the
missionaries, the Bubés wear no clothes except closely fitting coats
of palm oil, or, on grand occasions. of tola paste, _i. e._ palm oil
bruised and mixed with the leaves of the tola herb. This paste has
a powerful and very peculiar odor, and the first intimation of the
vicinity of a Bubé village is usually the scent of the tola paste borne
on the breeze.
The men wear large flat hats made of wicker-work covered with monkey
skin, and used chiefly to guard themselves from the tree snake. The
women are dressed in exactly the same fashion, but without the hat,
their husbands perhaps thinking that women cannot be hurt by snakes.
The hat is fastened to the head by skewers made of the bone of the
monkey’s leg, and the hair itself is plentifully greased and adorned
with yellow ochre, and manipulated so that it looks as if it were
covered with little gilded peas. Round the upper arm is tied a piece
of string, which holds a knife for the man and a pipe for the woman.
Clothing is to them a positive infliction, and Captain Burton remarks
that, even at an elevation of ten thousand feet above the sea, he
offered the Bubés blankets, but they would not have them, though they
found the warmth of the fire acceptable to them.
They have a legend which explains their nudity. Many years ago a
M’pongwe magician made fetish upon his great war spear, and killed
numbers of them, so that they fled. They then made a law that the Bubé
should wear no clothing until they had conquered the M’pongwe, and that
law they have kept to the present day.
Taken as a savage, the Bubé is a wonderfully good specimen. He is very
industrious, laying out yam fields and farms at some distance from his
house, in order to prevent his domestic animals from straying into it,
and he is the best palm-wine maker in Western Africa. He neither will
be a slave himself, nor keep slaves, preferring to work for himself;
and, after working hard at his farm, he will start off into the woods
to shoot monkeys or squirrels. He is a good athlete, and handles his
great staff with such address that he is a very formidable antagonist.
He is an admirable linguist, picking up languages with astonishing
readiness, and he is absolutely honest. “You may safely deposit rum and
tobacco in his street, and he will pay his debt as surely as the Bank
of England.” This testimony is given by Captain Burton, who certainly
cannot be accused of painting the native African in too bright colors.
[Illustration: (1.) A BUBÉ MARRIAGE. (See page 613.)]
[Illustration: (2.) KANEMBOO MAN AND WOMAN. (See page 627.)]
Yet he never trusts any one. He will deal with you most honorably, but
he will never tell you his name. If you present gifts to him, he takes
them, but with suspicion: “Timet Danaos et dona ferentes.” If you enter
his village unexpectedly, he turns out armed, and, “if you are fond
of collecting vocabularies, may the god of speech direct you.” The
fact is, he has been so cheated and plundered that he now suspects all
men alike, and will not trust even his fellow-countrymen of the next
village.
He treats his wife pretty well, but has an odd ascending series of
punishments. Should he detect her in an infidelity, he boils a pot of
oil, cuts off the offender’s left hand, and plunges the stump into the
oil to heal the bleeding. For the second offence she loses the right
hand, and for the third the head, on which occasion the boiling oil
is not required. Partly on account of this law, and partly on account
of their ugliness, which is said to be portentous, the women display
better morals than the generality of their African sisters.
Dr. Hutchinson, who resided in Fernando Po for some time, has not a
very favorable opinion of the Bubés, thinking that the twenty or thirty
thousand of their tribe form the greatest obstacle to civilization.
He states, moreover, that although the Baptist missionaries have been
hard at work among them for seventeen years, they had not succeeded in
Christianizing or civilizing, or even humanizing, a single Bubé.
They are not an intellectual race, and do not appear to know or care
much about the division of time, the new moon and the beginning of the
dry season marking their monthly and annual epochs. The latter begins
in November, and for two months the Bubés hold a festival called Lobo,
in which marriages are generally celebrated. Dr. Hutchinson was able to
witness a Bubé marriage, and has given a very amusing account of it.
The reader may find it illustrated on the preceding page. The bride was
a daughter of the king. “On getting inside of the town our first object
of attraction was the cooking going on in his Majesty’s kitchen. Here
a number of dead ‘ipa’ (porcupines) and ‘litcha’ (gazelles) were in
readiness to be mingled up with palm oil, and several grubs writhing
on skewers, probably to add piquancy to the dishes. These are called
‘inchaee,’ being obtained from palm trees, and look at first sight
like Brobdignagian maggots. Instead of waiting to see the art of the
Fernandian Soyer on these components, I congratulated myself on my ham
sandwiches and brandy-and-water bottle safely stowed in my portmanteau,
which one of the Krumen carried on his back, and sat on my camp-stool
beneath the grateful shade of a palm tree to rest a while.
“Outside a small hut belonging to the mother of the bride expectant, I
soon recognized the happy bridegroom, undergoing his toilet from the
hands of his future wife’s sister. A profusion of tshibbu strings (_i.
e._ small pieces of Achatectona shell, which represent the currency
in Fernando Po) being fastened round his body, as well as his legs
and arms, the anointing lady (having a short black pipe in her mouth)
proceeded to putty him over with tola paste. He seemed not altogether
joyous at the anticipation of his approaching happiness, but turned a
sulky gaze now and then to a kidney-shaped piece of brown-painted yam,
which he held in his hand, and which had a parrot’s red feather fixed
on its convex side. This I was informed was called ‘ntsheba,’ and is
regarded as a protection against evil influence during the important
day.
“Two skewer-looking hair-pins, with heads of red and white glass
beads, fastened his hat (which was nothing more than a disk of bamboo
plaiting) to the hair of his head; and his toilet being complete, he
and one of the bridesmen, as elaborately dressed as himself, attacked a
mess of stewed flesh and palm oil placed before them, as eagerly as if
they had not tasted food for a fortnight. In discussing this meal they
followed the primitive usage of ‘fingers before forks,’ only resting
now and then to take a gulp of palm wine out of a calabash which was
hard by, or to wipe their hands on napkins of cocoa-leaf, a process
which, to say the least of it, added nothing to their washerwomen’s
bill at the end of the week.
“But the bride! Here she comes! Led forth by her own and her
husband-expectant’s mother, each holding her by a hand, followed by two
‘nepees’ (professional singers) and half-a-dozen bridesmaids. Nothing
short of a correct photograph could convey an idea of her appearance.
Borne down by the weight of rings, wreaths, and girdles of ‘tshibbu,’
the tola pomatum gave her the appearance of an exhumed mummy, save her
face, which was all white--not from excess of modesty (and here I may
add, the negro race are expected always to blush blue), but from being
smeared over with a white paste, symbolical of purity.
“As soon as she was outside the paling, her bridal attire was proceeded
with, and the whole body was plastered over with white stuff. A
veil of strings of tshibbu shells, completely covering her face, and
extending from the crown of her head to the chin, as well as on each
side from ear to ear, was then thrown over her; over this was placed an
enormous helmet made of cowhide; and any one with a spark of compassion
in him could not help pitying that poor creature, standing for more
than an hour under the broiling sun, with such a load on her, whilst
the nepees were celebrating her praises in an extempore epithalamium,
and the bridegroom was completing his finery elsewhere.
“Next came a long chant--musical people would call it a howl--by the
chief nepee. It was about as long as ‘Chevy Chase,’ and celebrated the
beauties and many virtues of the bride, among which was rather oddly
mentioned the delicious smell which proceeded from her. At every pause
in the chant the audience struck in with a chorus of ‘Hee! hee! jee!
eh!’ and when it was over the ceremony proceeded.
“The candidates for marriage having taken their positions side by
side in the open air, fronting the little house from which the bride
elect had been led out by the two mothers, and where I was informed
she had been closely immured for fifteen months previous, the ceremony
commenced. The mothers were the officiating priests--an institution of
natural simplicity, whose homely origin no one will dare to impugn.
On these occasions the mother-bishops are prophetically entitled
‘boowanas,’ the Fernandian for grandmother.
“Five bridesmaids marshalled themselves alongside the bride postulant,
each, in rotation, some inches lower than the other, the outside one
being a mere infant in stature, and all having bunches of parrots’
feathers on their heads, as well as holding a wand in their right
hands. The mother stood behind the ‘happy pair,’ and folded an arm of
each round the body of the other--nepees chanting all the while, so
that it was barely possible for my interpreter to catch the words by
which they were formally soldered. A string of tshibbu was fastened
round both arms by the bridegroom’s mother; she, at the same time,
whispering to him advice to take care of this tender lamb, even though
he had half-a-dozen wives before. The string was then unloosed. It
was again fastened on by the bride’s mother, who whispered into her
daughter’s ear her duty to attend to her husband’s farm, tilling his
yams and cassava, and the necessity of her being faithful to him. The
ratification of their promise to fulfil these conditions was effected
by passing a goblet of palm wine from mother to son (the bridegroom),
from him to his bride, from her to her mother, each taking a sip as it
went round.
“Then an indiscriminate dance and chant commenced; and the whole
scene--the tola paste laid on some faces so thickly that one might
imagine it was intended to affix something to them by means of it--the
dangling musk-cat and monkey tails--the disk hats and parrots’
feathers--the branches of wild fern and strings of tshibbu shells,
fastened perhaps as nosegays to the ladies’ persons--the white and
red and yellow spots painted under the eyes, and on the shoulders,
and in any place where they could form objects of attraction--the
_tout ensemble_, contrasted with the lofty _Bombax_, beautiful palm,
cocoa-nut, and other magnificent tropical trees around, presented a
picture rarely witnessed by an European, and one calculated to excite
varied reflections.”
Lastly, the whole party--the tola paste now cracking from their
bodies--proceeded to the house of the bridegroom, the old wives walking
before the bride until they reached the door, and then allowing her to
precede them. The newly-married pair then stood at their door facing
the spectators, embracing each other as before. One of his children
then presented the bride with a huge yam painted brown, others fixed
tshibbu epaulets on her shoulders, the husband placed four rings on her
fingers, and the ceremony was concluded by a second lecture from the
bridegroom’s mother, at the expiration of which Dr. Hutchinson, as he
rather quaintly says, “left the happy pair to the enjoyment of their
tola-moon.”
CONGO
Passing southward down the West Coast, we come to the celebrated
kingdom of CONGO.
In these days it has been so traversed by merchants of different
countries and missionaries of different sects, that it no longer
presents the uniform aspect of its earlier monarchical days, of which
we will take a brief survey. The reader must understand that the
sources from which the information is taken are not wholly reliable,
but, as we have none other, we must make the best of our information,
and use our own discretion as to those parts which are best worthy
of belief. The following account is mostly taken from Mr. Reade’s
condensation.
The ancient constitution of the Congo kingdom much resembled that
of Ashanti or Dahome; namely, a despotic monarchy controlled by
councillors, the king and the council being mutually jealous, and each
trying to overreach the other. When the kingdom of Congo was first
established, the royal revenues were much in the same condition as the
civil list of a late Emperor of Russia--all belonged to the king, and
he took as much as he wanted. In later days, however, the revenues
were controlled by the council, who aided, not only in their disposal,
but in the mode of their collection. The greater part of the income
depended on the annual tributes of the inferior chiefs, but, as in
times of pressure, especially during a protracted war, this tribute is
inadequate to meet the expenses, the king and council devise various
objects of taxation.
The most productive is perhaps the tax on beds, which are assessed
according to their width, every span costing an annual payment of a
slave. Now, as an ordinary man cannot sleep comfortably on a bed less
than four spans in width, it is very evident that the tax must be a
very productive one, if indeed it were not so oppressive as to cause a
rebellion. The natives seem, however, to have quietly acquiesced in it,
and a wealthy negro therefore takes a pride in having a very broad bed
as a tangible proof of his importance.
As in more civilized nations, war is the great parent of taxation,
the king being obliged to maintain a large standing army, and to keep
it in good humor by constant largesses, for a large standing army is
much like fire,--a useful servant, but a terrible master. The army is
divided into regiments, each acting under the immediate command of
the chief in whose district they live, and they are armed, in a most
miscellaneous fashion, with any weapons they can procure. In these
times the trade guns are the most valued weapons, but the native
swords, bows and arrows, spears, and knives, still form the staple of
their equipment. As to uniform, they have no idea of it, and do not
even distinguish the men of the different regiments, as do the Kaffirs
of Southern Africa.
The ancient religion of the Congo negro is simply polytheism, which
they have suffered to degenerate into fetishism. There is one
monotheistic sect, but they have gained very little by their religion,
which is in fact merely a negation of many deities, without the least
understanding of the one whom they profess to worship--a deity to whom
they attribute the worst vices that can degrade human nature.
The fetish men or priests are as important here as the marabouts among
the Mandingoes, and the chief of them, who goes by the name of Chitomè,
is scarcely less honored than the king, who finds himself obliged to
seek the favor of this spiritual potentate, while the common people
look on him as scarcely less than a god. He is maintained by a sort of
tithe, consisting of the first-fruits of the harvest, which are brought
to him with great ceremony, and are offered with solemn chants. The
Congo men fully believe that if they were to omit the first-fruits of
one year’s harvest, the next year would be an unproductive one.
A sacred fire burns continually in his house, and the embers, which are
supposed to be possessed of great medicinal virtues, are sold by him
at a high price, so that even his fire is a constant source of income
to him. He has the entire regulation of the minor priests, and every
now and then makes a progress among them to settle the disputes which
continually spring up. As soon as he leaves his house, the husbands
and wives throughout the kingdom are obliged to separate under pain of
death. In case of disobedience, the man only is punished, and cases
have been known where wives who disliked their husbands have accused
them of breaking this strange law, and have thereby gained a double
advantage, freed themselves from a man whom they did not like, and
established a religious reputation on easy terms.
In fact, the Chitomè has things entirely his own way, with one
exception. He is so holy that he cannot die a natural death, for if he
did so the universe would immediately be dissolved. Consequently, as
soon as he is seized with a dangerous illness, the Chitomè elect calls
at his house, and saves the universe by knocking out his brains with a
club, or strangling him with a cord if he should prefer it. That his
own death must be of a similar character has no effect upon the new
Chitomè, who, true to the negro character, thinks only of the present
time, and, so far as being anxious about the evils that will happen at
some future time, does not trouble himself even about the next day.
Next to the Chitomè comes the Nghombo, a priest who is distinguished
by his peculiar gait. His dignity would be impaired by walking like
ordinary mortals, or even like the inferior priests, and so he always
walks on his hands with his feet in the air, thereby striking awe
into the laity. Some of the priests are rain-makers, who perform the
duties of their office by building little mounds of earth and making
fetish over them. From the centre of each charmed mound rises a strange
insect, which mounts into the sky, and brings as much rain as the
people have paid for. These priests are regularly instituted, but
there are some who are born to the office, such as dwarfs, hunchbacks,
and albinos, all of whom are highly honored as specially favored
individuals, consecrated to the priesthood by Nature herself.
The priests have, as usual, a system of ordeal, the commonest mode
being the drinking of the poison cup, and the rarest the test of
the red-hot iron, which is applied to the skin of the accused, and
burns him if he be guilty. There is no doubt that the magicians are
acquainted with some preparation which renders the skin proof against a
brief application of hot iron, and that they previously apply it to an
accused person who will pay for it.
The Chitomè has the privilege of conducting the coronation of a king.
The new ruler proceeds to the house of the Chitomè, attended by a host
of his future subjects, who utter piercing yells as he goes. Having
reached the sacred house, he kneels before the door, and asks the
Chitomè to be gracious to him. The Chitomè growls out a flat refusal
from within. The king renews his supplications, in spite of repeated
rebuffs, enumerating all the presents which he has brought to the
Chitomè--which presents, by the way, are easily made, as he will extort
an equal amount from his subjects as soon as he is fairly installed.
At last, the door of the hut opens, and out comes the Chitomè in his
white robe of office, his head covered with feathers, and a shining
mirror on his breast. The king lies prostrate before the house, while
the Chitomè pours water on him, scatters dust over him, and sets his
feet on him. He then lies flat on the prostrate monarch, and in that
position receives from him a promise to respect his authority ever
afterward. The king is then proclaimed, and retires to wash and change
his clothes.
Presently he comes out of the palace, attended by his priests and
nobles, and gorgeous in all the bravery of his new rank, his whole
person covered with glittering ornaments of metal, glass, and stone,
so that the eye can scarcely bear the rays that flash on every side as
he moves in the sunbeams. He then seats himself, and makes a speech
to the people. When it is finished, he rises, while all the people
crouch to the ground, stretches his hands over them, and makes certain
prescribed gestures, which are considered as the royal benediction.
(See the engraving No. 2, on the next page.) A long series of banquets
and revelry ends the proceedings.
At the present day, the Congo king and great men disfigure themselves
with European clothing, such as silk jackets, velvet shoes, damask
coats, and broad-brimmed hats. But, in the former times, they dressed
becomingly in native attire. A simple tunic made of very fine grass
cloth, and leaving the right arm bare, covered the upper part of the
body, while a sort of petticoat, made of similar material, but dyed
black, was tied round the waist, and an apron, or “sporran,” of leopard
skin, was fastened to the girdle and hung in front. On their heads they
wore a sort of hood, and sometimes preferred a square red and yellow
cap. Sandals made of the palm tree were the peculiar privilege of the
king and nobles, the common people being obliged to go bare-footed.
The wives in Congo are tolerably well off, except that they are
severely beaten with the heavy hippopotamus-hide whip. The women do not
resent this treatment, and indeed, unless a woman is soundly flogged
occasionally, she thinks that her husband is neglecting her, and feels
offended accordingly. The king has the power of taking any woman for
his wife, whether married or not, and, when she goes to the royal
harem, her husband is judiciously executed.
The people of Congo are--probably on account of the enervating
climate--a very indolent and lethargic race, the women being made to do
all the work, while the men lie in the shade and smoke their pipes and
drink their palm wine, which they make remarkably well, though not so
well as the Bubé tribe of Fernando Po. Their houses are merely huts of
the simplest description; a few posts with a roof over them, and twigs
woven between them in wicker-work fashion by way of walls, are all that
a Congo man cares for in a house. His clothing is as simple as his
lodging, a piece of native cloth, tied round his middle being all that
he cares for; so that the ample clothes and handsome furs worn by the
king must have had a very strong effect on the almost naked populace.
According to traditional history, Congo was in old times one of the
great African kingdoms. Twice it rose to this eminence, and both times
by the energy of a woman, who, in spite of the low opinion in which
women are held, contrived to ascend the throne.
Somewhere about 1520--it is impossible in such history to obtain
precision of dates--a great chief, named Zimbo, swept over a very large
part of Africa, taking every country to which he came, and establishing
his own dominion in it. Among other kingdoms, Congo was taken by
him, and rendered tributary, and so powerful did he at last become,
that his army outgrew his territory, and he had the audacity to send
a division to ravage Abyssinia and Mozambique. The division reached
the eastern sea in safety, but the army then met the Portuguese, who
routed them with great loss. Messengers conveyed the tidings to Zimbo,
who put himself at the head of his remaining troops, went against the
Portuguese, beat them, killed their general, and carried off a great
number of prisoners, with whose skulls he paved the ground in front of
his house.
In process of time he died, and the kingdom separated, after African
fashion, into a number of independent provinces, each governed by one
of the leaders of the now useless army. One of these leaders had a
daughter named Tembandumba, who, together with her mother, ruled the
province when her father died. These women always accompanied the
troops in war, and so fierce and bloodthirsty was Tembandumba, even
as a girl, that her mother gave her the command of half the troops,
the natural consequence of which was that she took the command of the
whole, deposed her mother, and made herself queen.
[Illustration: (1.) WASHING DAY. (See page 648.)]
[Illustration: (2.) CONGO CORONATION. (See page 616.)]
Her great ambition was to found a nation of Amazons. Licentiousness
she permitted to the fullest extent, but marriage was utterly
prohibited; and, as soon as the women found themselves tired of their
male companions, the latter were killed and eaten, their places being
supplied by prisoners of war. All male children were killed, and she
had nearly succeeded in the object of her ambition, when she was
poisoned by a young man with whom she fell violently in love, and from
whom she imprudently accepted a bowl of wine at a banquet.
It is very remarkable that, about a hundred years after the death
of Tembandumba, another female warrior took the kingdom. Her name
was Shinga, and she obtained a power scarcely less than that of her
predecessor. She, however, was wise in her generation, and, after she
had fought the Portuguese, and been beaten by them, she concluded an
humble peace, and retained her kingdom in safety.
[Illustration: THE JU-JU EXECUTION. (_See page 602._)]
CHAPTER LXII.
BORNU.
POSITION OF THE KINGDOM OF BORNU -- APPEARANCE OF THE PEOPLE -- MODE
OF DRESSING THE HAIR -- A RECEPTION BY THE SULTAN -- COURT DRESS --
THE SHEIKH OF BORNU -- HIS PALACE AND ATTENDANTS -- HIS NOBLE AND
ENERGETIC CHARACTER -- RECEPTION BY THE GUARDS -- THEIR WEAPONS AND
DISCIPLINE -- THE KANEMBOO INFANTRY -- JUSTICE OF THE SHEIKH -- HIS
POLICY AND TACT -- REPUTED POWER OF CHARM WRITING -- HIS ZEAL FOR
RELIGION -- A TERRIBLE PUNISHMENT -- BORNU ARCHITECTURE -- CURIOUS
MODES OF FISHING AND HUNTING -- HABITS AND CUSTOMS OF THE KANEMBOOS.
On the western side of Lake Tchad, between 10° and 15° N. and 12°
and 18° E., is situated the large kingdom of Bornu, which embraces
a considerable number of tribes, and is of sufficient importance to
demand a notice. There are about twelve or thirteen great cities in
Bornu, and at least ten different dialects are spoken in the country,
some having been due to the presence of the Shooas, who themselves
speak nearly pure Arabic.
The pure Bornu people, or Kanowry, as they call themselves, are not
handsome, having large, flat, and rather unmeaning faces, with flattish
noses, and large mouths. The lips, however, are not those of the negro,
and the forehead is high, betokening a greater amount of intellect than
falls to the lot of the real negro.
As a rule, the Bornuese are not a wealthy people, and they are but
indifferently clad, wearing a kind of shirt stained of an indigo blue
by themselves, and, if they are tolerably well off, wearing two or even
three such garments, according to their means. The head is kept closely
shaven, and the better class wear a cap of dark blue, the scarlet caps
being appropriated to the sultan and his court. When they walk they
always carry a heavy stick with an enormous knob at the top, like a
drum-major’s bâton, and march much after the manner of that important
functionary.
The women are remarkable for the mode in which they dress their hair.
It is divided into three longitudinal rolls, thick in the middle and
diminishing toward the ends. One of these rolls passes over the top of
the head, and the others lie over the ears, the three points uniting
on the forehead, and being held firmly in their places by a thick
plastering of beeswax and indigo. The other ends of the rolls are
plaited very finely, and then turned up like the curled feathers of a
drake’s tail.
Sometimes a slight variation is made in the hair, five rolls being used
instead of three. The women are so fond of indigo that they dye their
eyebrows, hands, arms, feet, and legs with it, using the ruddy henna
for the palms of the hands and the nails of the toes and fingers, and
black antimony for the eyelashes. Beads, bracelets, and other ornaments
are profusely worn, mostly of horn or brass. Silver and ivory mark
the woman of rank. The dress is primarily composed of a sort of blue,
white, or striped sheet called _toorkadee_, which is wrapped round the
body under the arms, and falls as low as the knees. This is the usual
costume, but if a woman be well off, she adds a second toorkadee, which
she wears like a mantilla, over her head and shoulders.
Like other African tribes, though they belong to the Mahometan
religion, they use the tattoo profusely. Twenty cuts are made on each
side of the face, converging in the corners of the mouth, from the
angle of the lower jaw and the cheek-bones, while a single cut runs
down the centre of the forehead. Six cuts are made on each arm, six
more on the thighs, and the same number on the legs, while four are
on each breast, and nine on each side just above the hip-bone. These
are made while they are infants, and the poor little things undergo
frightful torments, not only from the pain of the wounds, but from the
countless flies which settle on the hundred and three cuts with which
their bodies are marked.
The Bornuese are governed, at least nominally, by a head chief or
sultan, who holds his court with most quaint ceremony. When the
travellers Denham and Clapperton went to pay their respects to
him, they were visited on the previous evening by one of the royal
chamberlains, who displayed the enormous staff, like a drum-major’s
bâton, wore eight or ten shirts in order to exhibit his wealth, and
had on his head a turban of huge dimensions. By his orders a tent was
pitched for the white visitors, and around it was drawn a linen screen,
which had the double effect of keeping out the sun and the people, and
of admitting the air. A royal banquet, consisting of seventy or eighty
dishes, was sent for their refection, each dish large enough to suffice
for six persons, and, lest the white men should not like the native
cookery, the sultan, with much thoughtfulness, sent also a number of
live fowls, which they might cook for themselves.
Next morning, soon after daylight, they were summoned to attend the
sultan, who was sitting in a sort of cage, as if he had been a wild
beast. No one was allowed to come within a considerable distance, and
the etiquette of the court was, that each person rode on horseback past
the cage, and then dismounted and prostrated himself before the sultan.
The oddest part of the ceremony is, that as soon as the courtier has
made his obeisance, he seats himself on the ground with his _back_
toward his monarch. Nearly three hundred of the courtiers thus take
their places, and nothing could be more ludicrous than the appearance
which they presented, their bodies being puffed out by successive
robes, their heads swathed in turbans of the most preposterous size,
and their thin legs, appearing under the voluminous garments, showing
that the size of the head and body was merely artificial.
In fact, the whole business is a sham, the sultan being the chief
sham, and the others matching their sovereign. The sultan has no real
authority, the true power being lodged in the hands of the sheikh, who
commands the army. Those who serve the court of Bornu are, by ancient
etiquette, obliged to have very large heads and stomachs, and, as
such gifts of nature are not very common, an artificial enlargement
of both regions is held to be a sufficient compliance with custom.
Consequently, the courtiers pad themselves with wadding to such an
extent that as they sit on horseback their abdomens seem to protrude
over the pommel of the saddle, while the eight or ten shirts which they
wear, one over the other, aid in exaggerating the outline, and reducing
the human body to a shapeless lump.
Their heads are treated in a similar fashion, being enveloped in
great folds of linen or muslin of different colors, white, however,
predominating; and those who are most careful in their dress fold their
huge turbans so as to make their heads appear to be one-sided, and
as unlike their original shape as possible. Besides all these robes
and shirts and padding, they wear a vast number of charms, made up in
red leather parcels, and hung all over the body. The sultan is always
accompanied by his trumpeters, who blow hideous blasts on long wooden
trumpets called frum-frums, and also by his dwarfs, and other grotesque
favorites.
In war, as in peace, the sultan is nominally the commander, and in
reality a mere nonentity. He accompanies the sheikh, but never gives
orders, nor even carries arms, active fighting being supposed to be
below his dignity. One of the sultans lost his life in consequence of
this rule. According to custom he had accompanied the sheikh in a war
against the great enemy of Bornu, the Sultan of Begharmi, and, contrary
to the usual result of these battles, the engagement had gone against
him, and he was obliged to take refuge in flight. Unfortunately for
him, though he was qualified by nature for royalty, being large-bodied
and of enormous weight, yet his horse could not carry him fast enough.
He fled to Angala, one of his chief towns, and if he could have entered
it would have been safe. But his enormous weight had distressed his
horse so much that the animal suddenly stopped close to the gate, and
could not be induced to stir.
The sultan, true to the principle of _noblesse oblige_, accepted the
position at once. He dismounted from his horse, wrapped his face in the
shawl which covered his head, seated himself under a tree, and died
as became his rank. Twelve of his attendants refused to leave their
master, and nobly shared his death.
Around the sultan are his inevitable musicians, continually blowing
their frum-frums or trumpets, which are sometimes ten or twelve feet in
length, and in front goes his ensign, bearing his standard, which is
a long pole hung round at the top with strips of colored leather and
silk. At either side are two officers, carrying enormous spears, with
which they are supposed to defend their monarch. This, however, is as
much a sham as the rest of the proceedings; for, in the first place,
the spearmen are so fat and their weapons so unwieldy that they could
not do the least execution, and, as if to render the spears still more
harmless, they are covered with charms from the head to the butt.
It has been mentioned that the real power of Bornu rests, not with the
sultan, but with the sheikh. This potentate was found to be of simple
personal habits, yet surrounded with state equal to that of the sultan,
though differing in degree. Dressed in a plain blue robe and a shawl
turban, he preferred to sit quietly in a small and dark room, attended
by two of his favorite negroes armed with pistols, and having a brace
of pistols lying on a carpet in front of him.
But the approaches to this chamber were rigorously guarded. Sentinels
stood at the gate, and intercepted those who wished to enter, and
would not allow them to mount the staircase which led to the sheikh’s
apartment until they were satisfied. At the top of the staircase were
negro guards armed with spears, which they crossed in front of the
visitor, and again questioned him. Then the passages leading to the
sheikh’s chamber were lined with rows of squatting attendants, who
snatched off the slippers of the visitors, and continually impeded
their progress by seizing their ankles, lest they should infringe
etiquette by walking too fast. Indeed, had not the passages been
densely crowded, the guests would have been several times flung on
their faces by the zeal of these courtiers.
At last they gained admission, and found this dread potentate a
singularly quiet and unassuming man, well-disposed toward the
travellers, and very grateful to them for the double-barrelled gun and
pistols which they presented to him. In return, he fed them liberally,
sending them fish by the camel load, and other provisions in like
quantity.
According to his warlike disposition, his conversation chiefly turned
on military affairs, and especially on the best mode of attacking
walled towns. The account of breaching batteries had a great effect
upon him, and the exhibition of a couple of rockets confirmed him in
his respect for the wisdom of the English. Being a thoughtful man,
he asked to see some rockets fired, because there were in the town
a number of the hostile Shooas. The rockets were fired accordingly,
and had the desired effect, frightening not only the Shooas, but all
the inhabitants of the town, out of their senses, and even the steady
nerves of the sheikh himself were much shaken.
The sheikh was a great disciplinarian, and managed his wild cavalry
with singular skill, as is shown by the account of Major Denham. “Our
accounts had been so contradictory of the state of the country that
no opinion could be formed as to the real condition and the number of
its inhabitants. We had been told that the sheikh’s soldiers were a
few ragged negroes armed with spears, who lived upon the plunder of
the black Kaffir countries by which he was surrounded, and which he
was able to subdue by the assistance of a few Arabs who were in his
service; and, again, we had been assured that his forces were not only
numerous, but to a degree regularly trained. The degree of credit which
might be attached to these reports was nearly balanced in the scales
of probability, and we advanced toward the town of Kouka in a most
interesting state of uncertainty whether we should find its chief at
the head of thousands, or be received by him under a tree, surrounded
by a few naked slaves.
“These doubts, however, were quickly removed. I had ridden on a short
distance in front of Boo-Khaloom, with his train of Arabs all mounted
and dressed out in their best apparel, and, from the thickness of the
trees, now lost sight of them. Fancying that the road could not be
mistaken I rode still onward, and, approaching a spot less thickly
planted, was surprised to see in front of me a body of several thousand
cavalry drawn up in line, and extending right and left as far as I
could see. Checking my horse I awaited the arrival of my party under
the shade of a wide-spreading acacia. The Bornu troops remained quite
steady, without noise or confusion; and a few horsemen, who were moving
about in front, giving directions, were the only persons out of the
ranks.
“On the Arabs appearing in sight, a shout or yell was given by the
sheikh’s people, which rent the air; a blast was blown from their
rude instruments of music equally loud, and they moved on to meet
Boo-Khaloom and his Arabs. There was an appearance of tact and
management in their movements, which astonished me. Three separate
bodies from the centre of each flank kept charging rapidly toward us,
within a few feet of our horses’ heads, without checking the speed of
their own until the moment of their halt, while the whole body moved
onward.
“These parties were mounted on small but very perfect horses, who
stopped and wheeled from their utmost speed with the greatest precision
and expertness, shaking their spears over their heads, and exclaiming,
‘Blessing! blessing! Sons of your country! Sons of your country!’ and
returning quickly to the front of the body in order to repeat the
charge. While all this was going on, they closed in their right and
left flanks, and surrounded the little body of Arabs so completely as
to give the compliment of welcoming them very much the appearance of a
declaration of their contempt for their weakness.
“I was quite sure this was premeditated; we were all so closely pressed
as to be nearly smothered, and in some danger from the crowding of the
horses and clashing of the spears. Moving on was impossible, and we
therefore came to a full stop. Our chief was much enraged, but it was
all to no purpose: he was only answered by shrieks of ‘Welcome!’ and
spears most unpleasantly rattled over our heads expressive of the same
feeling.
“This annoyance was not, however, of long duration. Barca Gana, the
sheikh’s first general, a negro of noble aspect, clothed in a figured
silk robe, and mounted upon a beautiful Mandara horse, made his
appearance, and after a little delay the rear was cleared of those who
had pressed in upon us, and we moved forward, although but very slowly,
from the frequent impediments thrown in our way by these wild warriors.
“The sheikh’s negroes, as they were called, meaning the black chiefs
and generals, all raised to that rank by some deed of bravery, were
habited in coats of mail composed of iron chain, which covered them
from the throat to the knees, dividing behind, and coming on each side
of the horse. Some of them had helmets, or rather skull-caps, of the
same metal, with chin-pieces, all sufficiently strong to ward off the
shock of a spear. Their horses’ heads were also defended by plates of
iron, brass, and silver, just leaving sufficient room for the eyes of
the animal.”
In my collection there is one of the remarkable spears carried by
these horsemen. In total length it is nearly six feet long, of which
the long, slender, leaf-like blade occupies twenty inches. The shaft
is five-eighths of an inch in diameter at the thickest part, but
diminishes toward the head and butt. The material of the shaft is some
hard, dark wood, which takes a high polish, and is of a rich brown
color. The head is secured to the shaft by means of a rather long
socket, and at the butt there is a sort of iron spud, also furnished
with a socket, so that the length of the wooden portion of the spear is
only thirty-two inches. It is a light, well-balanced, and apparently
serviceable weapon.
Besides these weapons, there are several others, offensive and
defensive. The chiefs wear a really well-formed cuirass made of iron
plates, and having an ingenious addition of a kind of steel upright
collar attached to the back piece of the cuirass, and protecting the
nape of the neck. The cuirass is made of five plates of steel, laid
horizontally and riveted to each other, and of as many similar plates
attached to them perpendicularly, and forming the back piece and
shoulder straps. It is made to open at one side to admit of being put
on and off, and the two halves are kept together by loops and links,
which take the place of straps and buckles.
The chief’s horses are also distinguished by the quantity of armor with
which they are protected, an iron chamfron covering the whole of the
forehead, and extending as far as the nostrils.
By the saddle-bow hangs a battle-axe, shaped exactly like those axes
with which we have been so familiar in Southern and Central Africa,
but being distinguished from them by the fact that an iron chain is
passed through a hole in that part of the head which passes through
the knob at the end of the handle, the other end of the chain being
attached to a ring that slides freely up and down the handle. This
arrangement enables the warrior to secure and replace the head of the
axe if it should be struck out of the handle in the heat of battle. A
long double-edged dagger, shaped almost exactly like the spear head,
is fastened to the left arm by a strap, and is carried with the hilt
downward.
The infantry carry, together with other weapons, an iron axe, shaped
like a sickle, and closely resembling the weapon which has been
mentioned as used by the Neam-Nam and Fan tribes. This is called the
“hunga-munga,” and is used for throwing at a retreating enemy. The
infantry are mostly Kanemboo negroes. They are a tall, muscular race,
and, being also courageous, have well deserved the estimation in which
they are held by their master. Unlike the horsemen, they are almost
completely naked, their only clothing being a rather fantastical belt,
or “sporran” of goat-skin, with the hair still remaining on the skin,
and a few strips of cloth, called “gubkas,” tied round their heads, and
brought under the nose. These gubkas are the currency of the country,
so that a soldier carries his wealth on his head.
Their principal weapons are the spear and shield. The former is a very
horrible weapon, seven feet or so in length, and armed with a number of
hook-shaped barbs. The shield is made from the wood of the fogo, a tree
which grows in the shallow waters of Lake Tchad, and which is so light
that, although the shield is large enough to protect the whole body and
upper part of the legs, it only weighs a few pounds. The pieces of wood
of which it is made are bound together by strips of raw bullock’s hide,
on which the hair is suffered to remain as an ornament, and which,
after doing their duty, are carried along the outer edge of the shield
in a vandyked pattern. The shield is slightly convex. Besides the
spear and shield, the Kanemboo soldier mostly carries on his left arm
a dagger like that which has already been described, but not so neatly
made. The Kanemboos will be presently described.
At least nine thousand of these black soldiers are under the command of
the sheikh, and are divided into regiments of a thousand or so strong.
It may be imagined that they are really formidable troops, especially
under the command of such a leader, who, as will be seen by Major
Denham’s description of a review, had introduced strict discipline
and a rough-and-ready sort of tactics. The sheikh had ordered out the
Kanemboo soldiers, and galloped toward them on his favorite horse,
accompanied by four sultans who were under his command. His staff were
gaily adorned with scarlet bernouses decorated with gold lace, while he
himself preserved his usual simplicity of dress, his robes being white,
and a Cashmere shawl forming his turban. As soon as he gave the signal,
the Kanemboos raised a deafening shout, and began their manœuvres,
their officers being distinguished by wearing a dark blue robe and
turban.
“On nearing the spot where the sheikh had placed himself, they
quickened their pace, and after striking their spears against their
shields for some minutes, which had an extremely grand and stunning
effect, they filed off to the outside of the circle, where they again
formed and awaited their companions, who succeeded them in the same
order. There appeared to be a great deal of affection between these
troops and the sheikh. He spurred his horse onward into the midst of
some of the tribes as they came up, and spoke to them, while the men
crowded round him, kissing his feet and the stirrups of his saddle.
It was a most pleasing sight. He seemed to feel how much his present
elevation was owing to their exertions, while they displayed a devotion
and attachment deserving and denoting the greatest confidence.
“I confess I was considerably disappointed at not seeing these troops
engage, although more than compensated by the reflection of the
slaughter that had been prevented by that disappointment.”
It seems rather curious that this leader, so military in all his
thoughts, should take women with him into the field, especially when he
had to fight against the terrible Munga archers, whose poisoned arrows
are certain death to all who are wounded by them. Yet, whenever he
takes the field, he is accompanied by three of his favorite wives, who
are mounted on trained horses, each being led by a boy, and their whole
figures and faces so wrapped in their wide robes that the human form
is scarcely distinguishable. The sultan, as becomes his superior rank,
takes with him an unlimited number of wives, accompanied by a small
court of palace officers. Nine, however, is the usual number allotted
to the sultan, and there are nearly a hundred non-combatants to wait
upon them.
The army, well ordered as it is, shows little signs of its discipline
until it is near the enemy, the troops marching much as they like, and
beguiling the journey with songs and tales. As soon, however, as they
come within dangerous ground, the sheikh gives the word, and they all
fall into their places, and become steady and well-disciplined troops.
The sheikh’s place is one of no ordinary peril, for, besides having
the responsibility of command, and the practical care of the sultan’s
unwieldy person, he is the object at which the enemy all aim, knowing
well that, if they can only kill the sheikh, their victory is assured.
This particular sheikh entirely disregarded all notion of personal
danger, and was the most conspicuous personage in the army. He marches
in front of his soldiers, and before him are borne five flags--two
green, two striped, and one red--upon which are written in letters of
gold extracts from the Koran. Behind him rides his favorite attendant,
bearing his master’s shield, mail coat, and helmet, and beside him is
the bearer of his drum which is considered as almost equivalent to
himself in value. The Begharmis say of this sheikh, that it is useless
to attack him, because he has the power of rendering himself invisible;
and that on one occasion, when they routed his army, and pursued the
sheikh himself, they could not see either him or his drum, though the
instrument was continually sounding.
Before passing to another branch of this subject, we will finish our
account of this sheikh. His name was Alameen Ben Mohammed el Kanemy,
and, according to Major Denham’s portrait, he was a man of mark, his
boldly-cut features expressing his energetic character even under the
folds of the turban and tobe in which he habitually enveloped himself.
Being the virtual ruler of the kingdom, he administered justice as well
as waged war, and did so with stern impartiality.
On one occasion, when a slave had offended against the law, and was
condemned to death, his master petitioned the sheikh against the
capital punishment, saying that, as the slave was his property, the
real punishment fell upon him, who was not even cognizant of his
slave’s offence. The sheikh admitted the validity of the plea, but
said that public justice could not be expected to yield to private
interests. So he ordered the delinquent for execution, but paid his
price to the owner out of his own purse.
He was equally judicious in enforcing his own authority. His favorite
officer was Barca Gana, who has already been mentioned. El Kanemy had
an especial liking for this man, and had committed to his care the
government of six districts, besides enriching him with numbers of
slaves, horses, and other valuable property. It happened that on one
occasion El Kanemy had sent him a horse which he had inadvertently
promised to another person, and which, accordingly, Barca Gana had to
give up. Being enraged by this proceeding, he sent back to the sheikh
all the animals he had presented, saying that in future he would ride
his own animals.
El Kanemy was not a man to suffer such an insolent message to be given
with impunity. He sent for Barca Gana, stripped him on the spot of all
his gorgeous clothing, substituted the slave’s leathern girdle for his
robes, and ordered him to be sold as a slave to the Tibboos. Humbled
to the dust, the disgraced general acknowledged the justice of the
sentence, and only begged that his master’s displeasure might not fall
on his wives and children. Next day, as Barca Gana was about to be led
away to the Tibboos, the negro body guards, who seem to have respected
their general for his courage in spite of his haughty and somewhat
overbearing manner, came before the sheikh, and begged him to pardon
their commander. Just at that moment the disgraced chief came before
his offended master, to take leave before going off with the Tibboos to
whom he had been sold.
El Kanemy was quite overcome by the sight, flung himself back on his
carpet, wept like a child, allowed Barca Gana to embrace his knees,
and gave his free pardon. “In the evening there was great and general
rejoicing. The timbrels beat, the Kanemboos yelled and struck their
shields; everything bespoke joy, and Barca Gana, in new robes and a
rich bernouse, rode round the camp, followed by all the chiefs of the
army.”
Even in war, El Kanemy permitted policy and tact to overcome the
national feeling of revenge. For example, the formidable Munga tribe,
of whom we shall presently treat, had proved themselves exceedingly
troublesome, and the sheikh threatened to exterminate them--a threat
which he could certainly have carried out, though with much loss of
life. He did not, however, intend to fulfil the threat, but tried,
by working on their fears and their interests, to conciliate them,
and to make them his allies rather than his foes. He did not only
frighten them by his splendidly-appointed troops, but awed them by
his accomplishments as a writer, copying out a vast number of charmed
sentences for three successive nights. The illiterate Mungas thought
that such a proceeding was a proof of supernatural power, and yielded
to his wisdom what they would not have yielded to his veritable power.
They said it was useless to fight against a man who had such terrible
powers. Night after night, as he wrote the potent words, their arrows
were blunted in their quivers. Their spears snapped asunder, and
their weapons were removed out of their huts, so that some of the
chiefs absolutely became ill with terror, and all agreed that they
had better conclude peace at once. The performance of Major Denham’s
rockets had also reached their ears, and had added much to the general
consternation.
He carried his zeal for religion to the extreme of fanaticism,
constituting himself the guardian of public morals, and visiting
offences with the severest penalties. He was especially hard on the
women, over whom he kept a vigilant watch by means of his spies. On one
occasion, two young girls of seventeen were found guilty, and condemned
to be hanged. Great remonstrances were made. The lover of one of the
girls, who had previously offered to marry her, threatened to kill any
one who placed a rope round her neck, and a general excitement pervaded
the place. For a long time the sheikh remained inexorable, but at last
compounded the affair by having their heads shaved publicly in the
market-place--a disgrace scarcely less endurable than death.
On another occasion the delinquents had exaggerated their offence by
committing it during the fast of the Rhamadan. The man was sentenced to
four hundred stripes, and the woman to half that number. The punishment
was immediate. The woman was stripped of her ornaments and all her
garments, except a cloth round the middle, and her head shaved. She was
then suspended by the cloth, and the punishment inflicted.
Her partner was treated far worse. The whip was a terrible weapon, made
of the skin of the hippopotamus, and having a metal knob on the end.
Each blow was struck on the back, so that the lash curled round the
body, and the heavy knob came with terrible violence on the breast and
stomach. Before half the lashes were inflicted, blood flowed profusely
from his mouth, and, a short time after the culprit was taken down, he
was dead. Strange to say, he acknowledged the justice of the sentence,
kissed the weapon, joined in the profession of faith which was said
before the punishment began, and never uttered a cry.
Fierce in war, and, as we have seen, a savage fanatic in religion, the
sheikh was no stranger to the softer emotions. Major Denham showed him
a curious musical snuff-box, the sweetness of which entranced him. He
sat with his head in his hands, as if in a dream; and when one of his
courtiers spoke, he struck the man a violent blow for interrupting the
sweet sounds.
His punishment for theft was usually a severe flogging and a heavy
fine. But, in cases of a first offence of a young delinquent, the
offender was buried in the ground up to his shoulders, and his head
and neck smeared with honey. The swarms of flies that settled on the
poor wretch’s head made his existence miserable during the time that
he was thus buried, and no one who had undergone such a punishment
once would be likely to run the risk of suffering it again, even
though it did no permanent injury, like the whip. Beheading is also a
punishment reserved for Mahometans, while “Kaffirs” are either impaled
or crucified, sometimes living for several days in torments.
The slaves of the Bornuese are treated with great kindness, and
are almost considered as belonging to their master’s family, their
condition being very like that of the slaves or servants, as they are
called, of the patriarchal ages. Much of the marketing is done by
female slaves, who take to market whole strings of oxen laden with
goods or cowries, and conduct the transaction with perfect honesty.
The market, by the way, in which these women buy and sell, is really
a remarkable place. It is regulated in the strictest manner, and is
divided into districts, in each of which different articles are sold.
It is governed by a sheikh, who regulates all the prices, and gets
his living by a small commission of about a half per cent. on every
purchase that exceeds four dollars. He is aided by dylalas, or brokers,
who write their private mark inside every parcel.
The whole place is filled with rows of stalls, in which are to be found
everything that a Bornuese can want, and one great convenience of the
place is, that a parcel need never be examined in order to discover
whether any fraud has been perpetrated. Should a parcel, when opened at
home, be defective, the buyer sends it back to the dylala, who is bound
to find out the seller, and to force him to take back the parcel and
refund the money. As an example of the strange things which are sold
in this market, Major Denham mentions that a young lion was offered to
him. It was perfectly tame, and was led about by a cord round his neck,
walking among the people without displaying any ferocity. Tame lions
seem to be fashionable in Bornu, as the sheikh afterward sent Major
Denham another lion equally tame.
The architecture of the Bornuese is superior to that of Dahome. “The
towns,” writes Major Denham, “are generally large, and well built: they
have walls thirty-five and forty feet in height, and nearly twenty
feet in thickness. They have four entrances, with three gates to each,
made of solid planks eight or ten inches thick, and fastened together
with heavy clamps of iron. The houses consist of several courtyards
between four walls, with apartments leading out of them for slaves,
then a passage and an inner court leading into habitations of the
different wives, which have each a square space to themselves, enclosed
by walls, and a handsome thatched hut. From thence also you ascend a
wide staircase of five or six steps, leading to the apartments of the
owner, which consist of two buildings like towers or turrets, with a
terrace of communication between them, looking into the street, with a
castellated window. The walls are made of reddish clay, as smooth as
stones, and the roofs are most tastefully arched on the inside with
branches, and thatched on the outside with a grass known in Bombay by
the name of _lidther_.
“The horns of the gazelle and antelope serve as a substitute for
nails or pegs. These are fixed in different parts of the walls, and
on them hang the quivers, bows, spears, and shields of the chief. A
man of consequence will sometimes have four of these terraces and
eight turrets, forming the faces of his mansion or domain, with all
the apartments of his women within the space below. Horses and other
animals are usually allowed an enclosure near one of the courtyards
forming the entrance,”
Such houses as these belong only to the wealthy, and those of the poor
are of a much simpler description, being built of straw, reeds, or
mats, the latter being the favorite material.
As is mostly the case in polygamous Africa, each wife has her own
special house, or rather hut, which is usually of the kind called
“coosie,” _i. e._ one that is built entirely of sticks and straw. The
wives are obliged to be very humble in presence of their husbands, whom
they always approach on their knees, and they are not allowed to speak
to any of the male sex except kneeling, and with their heads and faces
covered. Marriage is later in Bornu than in many parts of Africa, the
girls scarcely ever marrying until they are full fifteen, and mostly
being a year or two older.
Weddings are conducted in a ceremonious and noisy manner. The bride
is perched on the back of an ox, and rides to the bridegroom’s house
attended by her mother and friends, and followed by other oxen carrying
her dowry, which mostly consists of toorkadees and other raiment.
All her male friends are mounted, and dash up to her at full gallop,
this being the recognized salute on such occasions. The bridegroom is
in the mean time parading the streets with a shouting mob after him,
or sitting in his house with the same shouting mob in front of him,
yelling out vociferous congratulations, blowing horns, beating drums,
and, in fact, letting their African nature have its full sway.
In this country, the people have a very ingenious method of
counteracting the effects of the rain storms, which come on suddenly,
discharge the water as if it were poured from buckets, and then pass
on. On account of the high temperature, the rain soon evaporates, so
that even after one of these showers, though the surface of the ground
is for the time converted into a marsh intersected with rivulets of
running water, the sandy ground is quite dry at the depth of two feet
or so.
As soon as the Bornuese perceive one of these storms approaching,
they take off all their clothes, dig holes in the ground, bury the
clothes, and cover them up carefully. The rain falls, and is simply
a shower-bath over their naked bodies, and, as soon as the storm has
passed over, they reopen the hole, and put on their dry clothes.
When they are preparing a resting-place at night, they take a similar
precaution, digging deep holes until they come to the dry sand, on
which they make their beds.
THE KANEMBOOS.
If the reader will refer to the illustration on page 612, he will see
that by the side of the Kanemboo warrior is his wife. The women are,
like their husbands, dark and well-shaped. They are lively and brisk
in their manners, and seem always ready for a laugh. Their clothing is
nearly as limited as that of their husbands, but they take great pains
in plaiting their hair into numerous little strings, which reach as
far as the neck. The head is generally ornamented with a flat piece
of tin or silver hanging from the hair. This custom is prevalent
throughout the kingdom, and, indeed, the principal mode of detecting
the particular tribe to which a woman belongs is to note the color and
pattern of her scanty dress. Most of the Kanemboo women have a string
of brass beads or of silver rings hanging upon each side of the face.
In the latter case they mostly have also a flat circular piece of
silver on their foreheads.
The architecture of the Kanemboos is very similar to that of the
Kaffirs of Southern Africa, the huts more resembling those of the
Bechuanas than the Zulu, Kosa, or Ponda tribes. They are compared to
haystacks in appearance, and are made of reeds. Each house is situated
in a neat enclosure made of the same reed, within which a goat or two,
a cow, and some fowls are usually kept. The hut is divided into two
portions, one being for the master and the other for the women. His bed
is supported on a wooden framework and covered with the skins of wild
animals. There is no window, and the place of a door is taken by a mat.
In this country, they subsist generally on fish, which they obtain from
the great Lake Tchad in a very ingenious manner. The fisherman takes
two large gourds, and connects them with a stout bamboo, just long
enough to allow his body to pass easily between them. He then takes
his nets, to the upper part of which are fastened floats made of cane,
and to the lower edge are attached simple weights of sand tied up in
leathern bags.
He launches the gourds, and, as he does so, sits astride the bamboo, so
that one gourd is in front of him and the other behind. Having shot his
nets, he makes a circuit round them, splashing the water so as to drive
the fish against the meshes. When he thinks that a sufficiency of fish
has got into his net, he draws it up gently with one hand, while the
other hand holds a short club, with which he kills each fish as its
head is lifted above the water. The dead fish is then disengaged from
the net, and flung into one of the gourds; and when they are so full
that they can hold no more without running the risk of admitting water,
the fisherman paddles to shore, lands his cargo, and goes off for
another haul. He has no paddles but his hands, but they are efficient
instruments, and propel him quite as fast as he cares to go.
The women have a very ingenious mode of catching fish, constituting
themselves into a sort of net. Thirty or forty at a time go into the
water, and wade up to their breasts. They then form in single file, and
move gradually toward the muddy shore, which slopes very gradually,
stamping and beating the water so as to make as much disturbance as
possible. The terrified fishes retire before this formidable line, and
at last are forced into water so shallow, that they can be scooped out
by the hands and flung ashore.
The fish are cooked in a very simple manner. A fire is lighted; and
when it has burnt up properly, each fish has a stick thrust down its
throat. The other end of the stick is fixed into the ground close to
the fire, and in a short time the fire is surrounded with a circle of
fish, all with their heads downward and their tails in the air as if
they were diving. They can be easily turned on the sticks, the tail
affording all excellent leverage, and in a very short time they are
thoroughly roasted.
The Kanemboos catch the large animals in pitfalls called “blaquas.”
These blaquas are laboriously and ingeniously made, and are often used
to protect towns against the Tuaricks and other invaders, as well as to
catch wild animals. The pits are very deep, and at the bottom are fixed
six or seven perpendicular stakes, with sharpened points, and hardened
by being partially charred. So formidable are they, that a Tuarick
horse and his rider have been known to fall into one of them, and both
to have been found dead, pierced through the body with the stakes.
CHAPTER LXIII.
THE SHOOAS, TIBBOOS, TUARICKS, BEGHARMIS, AND MUSGUESE.
THE SHOOA TRIBE -- THEIR SKILL IN HORSEMANSHIP -- A SHOOA
BUFFALO-HUNT -- CHASE OF THE ELEPHANT -- TRACES OF THEIR ARABIC
ORIGIN -- SHOOA DANCES -- APPEARANCE AND DRESS OF THE WOMEN -- THE
TIBBOO TRIBE -- THEIR ACTIVITY -- DRESS AND APPEARANCE OF BOTH SEXES
-- THEIR SKILL WITH THE SPEAR -- TIBBOO DANCES -- THEIR CITIES OF
REFUGE -- THE TUARICKS -- THEIR THIEVISH CHARACTER AND GRAVE MANNERS
-- TUARICK SINGING -- THE BEGHARMIS -- LOCALITY OF THE PEOPLE -- THE
SULTAN AND HIS RETINUE -- CURIOUS ARCHITECTURE -- COSTUME AND WEAPONS
OF THE LANCERS -- WRESTLERS, BOXERS, AND DANCERS -- THE MUSGU TRIBE
-- APPEARANCE OF THE WOMEN -- THE LIP ORNAMENT -- A MUSGU CHIEF AND
ATTENDANTS -- A DISASTROUS BATTLE.
One of the most important of the many tribes which surround Lake Tchad
is the Shooa tribe, which, like the Kanemboo, has been absorbed into
the Bornuan kingdom. Their chief value is their soldierly nature,
and, as they are splendid horsemen, they form the greater part of the
cavalry. Arabs by descent, they preserve the Arabic language, and
speak it nearly pure, only mixing with it certain words and phrases of
Bornuan origin. They present a strong contrast to the pure Bornuese,
who are peaceable, quiet, slow, and good-natured. They are absurdly
timid, and, except in pursuing an already routed enemy, are useless in
the field, running away when there is the least sign of danger.
The Shooas, on the contrary, are bold, active, energetic, and daring,
passing a considerable part of their lives on horseback, and such
admirable equestrians that man and horse look like one animal. They are
mighty hunters, not being contented to dig pits and catch the animals
that fall into them, but boldly chasing the fierce and dangerous
buffaloes and killing them with the spear alone.
The Shooa hunter rides to the swampy grounds where the buffalo loves to
wallow, and drives the animals upon the firm land. He then makes choice
of one, and gives chase to it, getting on its off side and pressing it
closely. His horse is trained to run side by side with the buffalo, and
the rider then stands like a circus-rider upon the two animals, one
foot on his horse’s back, and the other on that of the buffalo.
He then drives his spear through the shoulders of the buffalo toward
the heart, and, if he has time, will fix another spear. He then drops
on his horse, which leaps away from the wounded animal, so as to avoid
the stroke of the horn which the buffalo is apt to give as it feels
the pain of the wound. As a rule, the buffalo can run but a very short
distance when thus injured, and, as soon as it staggers, the bold
hunter dismounts, and gives the final stroke. Sometimes a badly-trained
horse will be too eager, and press so far forward that the turn of the
buffalo’s head will wound it severely; but an old and experienced horse
knows the danger as well as its rider, and just keeps itself far enough
back to avoid the blow.
The Shooas chase the elephant in a similar manner, but, as the animal
is so enormous, twenty or thirty hunters generally unite their forces,
one always riding in front so as to draw the angry animal’s attention,
while the others follow it up, and inflict a series of wounds, under
which it soon sinks. Sometimes, when the elephant is very active and
savage, one of the hunters will dismount, and try to hamstring the
animal, or will even creep under it and drive his spears into its belly.
It may be easily imagined that such hunters as these are likely to make
good soldiers, and that the Bornuan sheikh was fully justified in
forming them into so large a contingent of his army.
Their constant practice in hunting the wild buffalo renders them
bold and successful cattle managers. They are excellent drivers, and
contrive to make whole herds of half-wild cattle obey them implicitly.
In nothing is their skill shown so much as in forcing the cattle to
cross the rivers in spite of their instinctive dread of the crocodiles
that infest the water. One driver, or rather leader, enters the water
first, dragging after him an ox by a cord tied to the ring through
his nose. As soon as the timid cattle see that one of their number
has ventured into the water, they are easily induced to follow its
example, and whole herds of oxen and flocks of sheep are thus taken
across in safety, the noise and splashing which they make frightening
the crocodiles away. Even the women assist in cattle-driving, and not
unfrequently the part of leader is taken by a woman.
As might be expected, the Shooas possess great numbers of cattle, and
Major Denham calculated that this single tribe owned at least sixty
thousand oxen, sheep, and goats, besides multitudes of horses. The
Shooas, indeed, are the chief horsebreeders of the Soudan.
True to their origin, the Shooas have retained many of their Arabic
characteristics. They build no houses, but live in tents, or rather
movable huts, composed of a simple framework of sticks, covered either
with leather or rush mats. They have, however, lost much of the nomad
character of the Arabs, probably because the fertile soil permits their
flocks to remain permanently in the same spot. They pitch their tents
in a circle, each such circle representing a town, and having two
openings or entrances for the cattle.
Even the governor or sultan of the largest settlement does not inhabit
a house. The establishment of one of these potentates, who was visited
by Dr. Oudney, consisted of a great quadrangular enclosure made of mats
suspended on poles, within which were a number of small huts, or rather
tents, with walls of the same materials, but with thatched roofs, and
much like straw beehives in shape. The doorway, or opening of each
tent, is always placed westward, because rain always comes from the
east. The furniture of the tents is as simple as their architecture,
and consists of a rude bed, some mats, and a few gourds and earthen
jars. The dwelling of a man of rank is distinguished by an ostrich
egg-shell.
Not only do they build no houses of their own, but they never inhabit
those which others have built, and, though they have overcome many
a district, they have never peopled or conquered towns. For the
surrounding negro nations they have the supremest contempt, and yet,
with strange inconsistency, they are always tributary to one of the
nations which they despise. Probably on this account, unless they are
well officered, they do not care to fight even in the service of that
nation which they serve; and although they are foremost when plunder
seems within their reach, they are always apt to retire from the battle
when it seems likely to go against them.
Their amusements consist principally of dances, one of which is very
peculiar, and is performed exclusively by women. They advance by pairs
at a time, and throw themselves into various attitudes, accompanied by
the wild and rude music of the band. Suddenly they turn their backs on
each other, stoop, and butt backward at each other, the object being
to upset the adversary. “She who keeps her equilibrium and destroys
that of her opponent is greeted with cheers and shouts, and is led out
of the ring by two matrons, covering her face with her hands. They
sometimes come together with such violence as to burst the belt of
beads which all the women of rank wear round their bodies just above
the hips, and showers of beads would fly in every direction. Some of
these belts are twelve or sixteen inches wide, and cost fifteen or
twenty dollars.
“Address, however, is often attended in these contests with better
success than strength, and a well-managed feint exercised at the moment
of the expected concussion, even when the weight of metal would be very
unequal, often brings the more weighty tumbling to the ground, while
the other is seen quietly seated on the spot where she had with great
art and agility dropped herself. The Shooas are particularly happy
in these feints, which were practised in different ways, either by
suddenly stepping on one side, or by lying down.”
The young girls are fond of skipping with a long rope, just as is
practised in Europe. They display very great agility, which is not
hindered by the presence of any garment. Major Denham once came on
a party of girls amusing themselves in this manner, and enjoying
the sport so thoroughly that nothing but the fear of losing dignity
prevented him from joining them.
The manners of the Shooas are pleasing and gentle. They are a
hospitable people, and give freely of the milk on which they almost
entirely live, as is always the case with a pastoral tribe. Major
Denham seems to have been particularly charmed with the manners of the
Shooas, which he describes as peculiarly interesting and expressive.
Even when bringing milk to their guests, the girls do so in a sort of
punctilious way, each sitting down by the side of the bowl, and making
a little ceremonious speech with her head wrapped in a mantle, which
she afterward removes for the sake of freer conversation.
The Shooa women are remarkable for their beauty. Their color is a light
ruddy copper, and they have fine open countenances, with aquiline
noses and large eyes--all very remarkable among the negro tribes that
surround them. The women are especially good-looking, and remind the
observer of the gipsy women. Their dress (see engraving on page 631)
consists of two wrappers, one round the waist and the other thrown over
the shoulders. The latter is worn in different ways, sometimes like
a shawl, sometimes tied under the arms so as to leave both shoulders
bare, and sometimes thrown over one shoulder and under the other. On
their feet they wear curious shoes without heels, but coming up the
sides of the foot above the ankles. Their hair is dressed in rather a
curious manner, being plaited into innumerable little tresses, which
are first pressed tightly to the head, and then suddenly diverge.
Handsome as are the Shooa women, their beauty is held in great contempt
by the negro tribes among which they live, and who naturally think that
thick lips, flat noses, and black skins constitute the only real beauty
in man or woman.
THE TIBBOOS.
Allied, in all probability, to the Shooas are the Tibboos.
They are a small and active race, and are admirable horsemen, always
leaping on their horses at a single bound, aiding themselves with the
shaft of a spear, which is used as a leaping-pole. Their saddles are of
wood, lashed together with thongs of cow-hide, and left open along the
middle, so as to avoid galling the horse’s back. They are well stuffed
with camel’s hair, and are comfortable enough when the rider is used to
them. Both the girth and the stirrup leathers are of plaited leather,
and the stirrups themselves are so small that they only admit of four
toes. In fact, the Tibboo saddle is almost exactly like that of the
Patagonian.
The men are very ugly, but the women are tolerably good-looking, and
those who live in the country are better made and more active than
those who live in the towns. The color is copper, but the noses are
flat, and the mouth is very large, though without the thick lips of the
negro.
Their dress is a tolerably large Soudan wrapper, folded round the body
and tied on the left shoulder so as to leave the right side bare. It
is, however, disposed in such a manner as to be a perfectly delicate as
well as a graceful costume. A smaller wrapper is thrown over the head,
and is drawn across the face or flung back at pleasure. The hair is
dressed in triangular flaps, which fall on either side of the face; and
they wear necklaces of amber, which they prize very highly, and bits of
red coral in their noses. They invariably carry something by way of a
sunscreen, such as a bunch of ostrich-feathers, a tuft of long grass,
or even a leafy bough.
Ugly as the men are, they are exceedingly vain of their personal
appearance; and on one occasion, when Major Denham had lent a
Tibboo chief a small looking-glass, the man spent several hours in
contemplating his own features, bursting every now and then into loud
ejaculations of joy at his own beauty, and sometimes leaping in the air
in the extremity of his delight.
They contrive to make their naturally ugly faces still less attractive
by their inveterate habit of taking snuff, which they take both by the
mouth and the nostrils, the latter becoming enormously extended by
their habit of thrusting the snuff into their heads with their fingers.
Their mouths are also distended by their custom of placing quantities
of snuff between the lips and gums.
The dress of the Tibboos is generally a single tobe, or shirt. Close
garments would only embarrass them by a affording a lodgement for the
sand, which has the effect of irritating the skin greatly, and making
almost intolerable sores. They have, however, a mode of alleviating
the pain of such sores by shampooing them with fat, a process which is
always conducted by the women. The only article of dress about which
they seem to trouble themselves is the turban, which is worn high on
the head, and the ends brought under the chin and across the face, so
as to conceal all but the nose, eyes, and part of the forehead. The
turban is dyed of a dark indigo blue, and is mostly decorated with a
vast number of charms, sewed in little leathern cases.
Their horses, though small, are very handsome, and are quite strong
enough to carry the light and active men who ride them. They are kept
in admirable condition, and are fed almost entirely on camel’s milk,
which they take both fresh and when clotted. This diet suits them
admirably, and the animals are in excellent condition.
The Tibboos stand in great dread of the Arabs, who plunder them
unmercifully when they have the chance. They are better riders and
better mounted than their foes; but they do not possess fire-arms,
which they look upon with absolute terror. Major Denham remarks that
“five or six of them will go round and round a tree where an Arab has
laid down his gun for a minute, stepping on tiptoe, as if afraid of
disturbing it; talking to each other in whispers, as if the gun could
understand their exclamations; and, I dare say, praying to it not to
do them any injury as fervently as ever Man Friday did to Robinson
Crusoe’s musket.”
[Illustration: (1.) SHOOA WOMEN. (See page 630.)]
[Illustration: (2.) TUARICKS AND TIBOOS. (See page 631.)]
Though they have no guns, they are more formidable warriors than they
seem to know, hurling the spear with deadly aim and wonderful force.
In throwing it, they do not raise the hand higher than the shoulder;
and, as it leaves the hand, they give it a twist with the fingers that
makes it spin like a rifle bullet. The shaft is elastic, and, when the
blade strikes the ground, the shaft bends nearly double. One young
man threw his spear a good eighty yards; and, as each man carries
two of these spears, it may be imagined that even the Arabs, with
all their fire-arms, are not much more than a match for the Tibboos.
They also carry the strange missile-sword which has already been
mentioned. The warriors carry bows and arrows, as well as two daggers,
one about eighteen inches long, stuck in the belt, and the other only
six inches in length, and fastened to the arm by a ring. The Tibboos
metaphorically term the long dagger their gun, and the short one their
pistol.
The dances of the Tibboo women are not in the least like those of
the Shooas. Dancing is among them one of the modes of greeting an
honored guest; and when a man of rank approaches, the women meet him
with dances and songs, just as Jephthah’s daughter met her victorious
father, and the women of Israel met David after he had killed Goliath.
Nor are these dances the slow, gliding movements with which we
generally associate Oriental dances. The women display very great
activity, and fling themselves about in an astonishing manner. They
begin by swaying their heads, arms, and bodies from side to side, but
gradually work themselves up to a great pitch of excitement, leaping in
the air, gnashing their teeth, whirling their arms about, and seeming
to be in a perfect frenzy.
Some of the Tibboo settlements, or villages, are ingeniously placed on
the tops of rocks with almost perpendicular sides. The situation is
an inconvenient one, but it is useful in warding off the attacks of
the Tuaricks, who make raids upon the unfortunate Tibboos, sweep off
all the cattle and other property that they can find, and carry away
the inhabitants to be sold as slaves, sparing neither age nor sex.
Consequently, as soon as the Tibboos have warning of the approach of
their enemies, they take refuge on the top of the rock, carrying with
them all their portable property, draw up the ladders by which they
ascend, and abandon the cattle to the invaders.
Partly on this account, and partly from natural carelessness, the
Tibboos are almost regardless of personal appearance, and even their
sultan, when he went to meet Major Denham, though he had donned in
honor of his guests a new scarlet bernouse, wore it over a filthy
checked shirt; and his cap and turban, which purported to be white,
were nearly as black as the hair of the wearer.
One might have thought that the continual sufferings which they undergo
at the hands of the Tuaricks would have taught the Tibboos kindness
to their fellow creatures, whereas there are no people more reckless
of inflicting pain. The Tibboo slave-dealers are notorious for the
utter indifference to the sufferings of their captives whom they are
conveying to the market, even though they lose many of them by their
callous neglect. They often start on their journey with barely one
quarter the proper amount of provisions or water, and then take their
captives over wide deserts, where they fall from exhaustion, and are
left to die. The skeletons of slaves strew the whole of the road.
As the traveller passes along, he sometimes hears his horse’s feet
crashing among the dried and brittle bones of the dead. Even round the
wells lie hundreds of skeletons, the remains of those who had reached
the water, but had been too much exhausted to be revived by it. In that
hot climate the skin of the dead person dries and shrivels under the
sun like so much horn, and in many cases the features of the dead are
preserved. Careless even of the pecuniary loss which they had suffered,
the men who accompanied Major Denham only laughed when they recognized
the faces of the shrivelled skeletons, and knocked them about with the
butts of their weapons, laughing the while, and making jokes upon their
present value in the market.
The Tibboos are, from their slight and active figures, good travellers,
and are employed as couriers to take messages from Bornu to Moorzuk, a
task which none but a Tibboo will undertake. Two are sent in company,
and so dangerous is the journey, that they do not expect that both will
return in safety. They are mounted on the swiftest dromedaries, and are
furnished with parched corn, a little brass basin, a wooden bowl, some
dried meat, and two skins of water. Not only do they have to undergo
the ordinary perils of travel, such as the hot winds, the sand-storms,
and the chance of perishing by thirst, but they also run great risk of
being killed by Arab robbers, who would not dare to attack a caravan,
but are glad of the opportunity of robbing defenceless travellers.
Such events do frequently occur, and the consequence is that the
Tibboos and the Arabs are in perpetual feuds, each murdering one of the
enemy whenever he gets a chance, and reckoning each man killed as a
point on his own side.
THE TUARICKS.
We ought, before leaving the Tibboos, to give a few words to their
enemies the Tuaricks. These are emphatically a nation of thieves, never
working themselves, and gaining the whole of their subsistence by
robbing those who do labor. They do not even plant or sow, and their
whole education consists in the art of robbery, in the management of
the dromedary, and the handling of the spear. They live in tents, which
are something like those of the ordinary Bedouin Arabs, and have, like
our gipsies, a supreme contempt for all who are so degraded as to live
in houses and congregate in cities. In the engraving No. 2 on page 631,
the artist has illustrated the characteristics of the Tuaricks and
Tibboos.
Like the gipsies, the Tuaricks have their own language, into which they
have only inserted occasional words of Arabic, and they have their own
written alphabet, in which several letters are exactly the same as some
of the Roman characters, though they do not express the same sounds,
such as the H, the S, and the W. There are also the Greek Θ and Λ and
the Hebrew ב, while several letters are composed of dots grouped in
various ways. These letters are either written from right to left, as
the Arabic, or _vice versâ_, as European languages, or perpendicularly,
as the Chinese; and in their country almost every large stone is
engraved with Tuarick characters. Yet they have no literature, and
assert that no book exists in their language. In sound the Tuarick
language is harsh, but it is expressive, and seems to be capable of
strength.
In their manners the Tuaricks are grave and sedate, and before Denham
and Clapperton visited them they were carefully lectured by the guide
on their proper behavior, the demeanor of Captain Clapperton being
considered too cheerful and humorous to suit the grave Tuaricks. This
applies only to the men, the women being lively and amusing. They
are very fond of singing, joining in little bands for the purpose,
and continuing their songs until midnight. The men, however, never
sing, considering the song to be essentially a feminine amusement,
and, probably for the same reason, they are never heard to recite
poetry like most Orientals. The women wear the usual striped blue and
white dress, and they mostly carry earrings made of shells. Wives are
conveniently valued at six camels each; and whether on account of their
value, or whether from an innate courtesy, the men treat their wives
with respect, and permit them a freedom of manner which denotes the
admission of equality.
The depredations of the Tuaricks have been mentioned when treating of
the Tibboos, on whom the chief brunt of their attacks seems to fall.
That they carry off all the cattle, and would seize even the Tibboos
themselves for slaves, is a standing and reasonable grievance. But even
the constant fear of these attacks does not seem to anger the Tibboos
so much as the raids which the Tuaricks make on their salt-market.
In the Tibboo country there are some large salt marshes, which are
extremely valuable to the owners, salt being a marketable commodity,
fetching a high price, indeed being itself used as a sort of currency;
a cylinder of coarse brown salt, weighing eleven pounds, being worth
four or five dollars. The purified salt, which they obtain in a
beautifully clear and white state, is put into baskets, and brings a
correspondingly high price.
Not choosing to take the trouble of procuring salt for themselves,
the Tuaricks supply themselves as well as their market by robbing the
Tibboos, and in one season these robbers carried off twenty thousand
bags of salt, selling the greater part in the Soudan market. The
Tibboos were particularly enraged at this proceeding. It was bad enough
to have their property stolen, but it was still worse to take their
remaining salt to the market, and then find that the price had fallen
in consequence of the Tuaricks having filled the market with the twenty
thousand bags which they had stolen, and which they could therefore
afford to sell at a very low price.
Among these people medicine and surgery are necessarily at a very low
ebb, shampooing and cauterizing being the chief remedies for almost
every complaint. One man who was suffering from an enlarged spleen was
advised to undergo the operation, and was laid on his back and firmly
held down by five or six assistants. An iron was heated in the fire,
and three spots burned on his side, just under the ribs. Each spot was
about as large as a sixpence.
The iron was then replaced in the fire, and, while it was being heated,
the assistants punched him in the side with their thumbs, asking
whether the pressure hurt him; and, as their hard thumbs bruised his
flesh, he was obliged to admit that it did hurt him. So four more scars
were made, close to the others. He was then burned on his face, and
three large scars burned near the spine; and, by way of making the
cure quite complete, a large burn was made on his neck, just above the
collar-bone. The poor man endured the torture with great patience, and,
when the operation was over, he drank a draught of water, and went on
as usual with the camels.
THE BEGHARMIS.
We now come to the curious Begharmi kingdom, between which and Bornu
there rages a perpetual warfare. War was the ancient custom in 1824,
when Denham and Clapperton visited the country, and many years
afterward, when Dr. Barth travelled through the district, it was going
on as fiercely as ever. Indeed, if they could, each kingdom would
exterminate the other, and, even as it is, great loss of life takes
place by the continual battles, in which no quarter is given, except to
those prisoners who are to be qualified for the harem. Consequently,
the wives of the Bornuan sultan are guarded by Begharmi eunuchs, and
those of the Begharmi sultan by Bornuese.
Even the Bornuan sheikh had yielded to the prevailing custom, and
maintained thirty of these unfortunate individuals. Major Denham saw
about a dozen of them shortly after their admission, and evidently
showed pity by his countenance. The chief, seeing this, exclaimed,
“Why, Christian, what signifies all this? They are only Begharmis!
dogs! Kaffirs! enemies! They ought to have been cut in four quarters
alive; and now they will drink coffee, eat sugar, and live in a palace
all their lives.”
When Dr. Barth visited Begharmi, the sultan was absent on one of
his warlike expeditions, and it was some time before he was allowed
to proceed to Massena, the capital. At last he did so, and had an
opportunity of seeing the sultan return after his expedition, in which
he had been victorious. First rode the lieutenant-governor, surrounded
by his horsemen, and next came another officer, behind whom was borne
a long and peculiarly-formed spear, connected in some way with their
religion. After him rode the commander-in-chief, and then the sultan
himself, riding on a gray horse, wearing a yellow bernouse, and
sheltered from the sun by two umbrellas, one green and one yellow, held
over him by slaves. He was continually cooled by six slaves wielding
long ostrich-feather fans, and having their right arms clothed in iron
armor; and around him rode a few of the principal chiefs.
Then came the war camel, bearing the battle-drums, which were
vigorously belabored by the drummer. Next came a long line of the
sultan’s wives, clothed in black; then the baggage, and then the
soldiers. Prisoners are led in the triumphal procession, and are taken
to the harem, where they are insulted by the inmates. The handsomest
among them are selected for the service of the harem, and the remainder
are put to death.
In this case the Begharmi sultan had been victorious; but in one battle
witnessed by Major Denham the Bornuese won the day, the sheikh having
arranged his few fire-arms with such skill that the Begharmis, nearly
five thousand strong, fell back in confusion, and were at once attacked
by the Bornuan horse, who are ready enough to fight when the enemy
seems to be running away. The slaughter was enormous, considering the
number of the combatants. Of the two hundred Begharmi chiefs who came
into the field, only one was said to have escaped, seven sons of the
sultan were killed, together with some seventeen hundred soldiers,
while many more were reported to have been murdered after the battle
was over. They also lost nearly five hundred horses, and nearly two
hundred women, who, according to the odd custom of the land, followed
their lords to battle.
In the greater part of the country, as well as at Loggun, the houses
are built in a very curious manner, being composed of cell within cell,
like a nest of pill-boxes. This curious architecture is intended to
keep out the flies, which at some seasons of the year swarm in such
numbers that even the inhabitants dare not move out of their houses
for several hours in the day. Major Denham would not believe the story
until it was corroborated by the appearance of one of his men, who
imprudently ventured into the open air, and came back with his eyes and
head swollen up, and so bitten that he was laid up for three days.
The Begharmis, though they are always at war with the Bornuese,
resemble them in so many points that a detailed description is not
needed, and we will only glance at a few of their peculiarities.
As we have mentioned the constant warfare in which they are engaged,
we will give a few words to the remarkable cavalry force which forms
the chief strength of the Begharmi army. These men present a most
remarkable appearance, as may be seen by reference to the illustration
No. 1 on page 638. They carry a most curious spear, with a double head,
something like a pitchfork with flattened prongs.
The most remarkable point is, however, the armor with which the
Begharmi lancer is defended. It is made of quilted cloth or cotton, and
is almost exactly identical with the quilted armor worn by the Chinese,
and which caused the miserable deaths of so many soldiers by the cotton
taking fire from the flash of their own muskets. The whole of the body
and limbs of the rider are covered with this armor, while he wears
on his head a helmet of the same material; and his horse is defended
as well as himself. Although useless against fire-arms, the cotton
quilting is proof against arrows, and is therefore useful in guarding
the soldier against the poisoned weapons of his foes.
As this armor, though light, is very cumbrous, it is seldom worn except
in actual combat, or when the general reviews his troops; and it may
be doubted whether it is not such an impediment, both to horse and
soldier, that the troops would be more efficient without it. Perhaps
the confidence which it inspires is its chief use, after all. These
men are always employed as heavy horse, to protect the van and guard
the rear of the army, the archers being stationed just behind them,
and shooting whenever they find a chance. The saddle is as awkward as
the armor, rising both in front and behind to such a height that the
soldier could hardly fall to the ground even if he were killed. In
front it forms a sort of little table, on which the soldier can rest
his bridle-arm, which might be fatigued with holding the reins and
lifting the sleeve of the quilted coat.
The Begharmis may be almost reckoned as negroes, their skins being
black, and their faces having much of the flatness and thickness of
the negro. They are powerful and active men, and the sultans of other
countries pride themselves on their trained Begharmi wrestlers, these
men being chosen for their gigantic stature and well-knit muscles.
When two athletes contend, it is no child’s play, the vanquished being
sometimes killed on the spot, and frequently maimed for life. Their
masters have a positive monomania on the subject, and urge on the
wrestlers by loud cries, promising great rewards to the victor, and
threatening the severest punishment to the vanquished. The great object
of the wrestlers is to catch the opponent by the hips, and so to lift
him off his feet and dash him to the ground. The master cares nothing
for a wrestler who has been once conquered; and a man for whom his
owner would refuse a couple of hundred dollars in the morning may be
sold for a fiftieth of the sum before night.
Similar to these combats are the boxing-matches, in which the negroes
from Haussa are thought to be the best that can be obtained. A spirited
account of one of these matches is given by Major Denham;--
“Having heard a great deal of the boxers of Haussa, I was anxious to
witness their performance. Accordingly I sent one of my servants last
night to offer 2,000 whydah for a pugilistic exhibition in the morning.
As the death of one of the combatants is almost certain before a battle
is over, I expressly prohibited all fighting in earnest; for it would
have been disgraceful, both to myself and my country, to hire men to
kill one another for the gratification of idle curiosity.
“About half an hour after the ‘massudubu’ were gone, the boxers
arrived, attended by two drums and the whole body of butchers, who
here compose ‘the fancy.’ A ring was soon formed by the master of the
ceremonies throwing dust on the spectators to make them stand back.
The drummers entered the ring, and began to drum lustily. One of the
boxers followed, quite naked, except a skin round the middle. He placed
himself in an attitude as if to oppose an antagonist, and wrought his
muscles into action, seemingly to find out that every sinew was in full
power for the approaching combat; then, coming from time to time to the
side of the ring, and presenting his right arm to the bystanders, he
said, ‘I am a hyæna’--‘I am a lion’--‘I am able to kill all that oppose
me.’ The spectators to whom he presented himself laid their hands on
his shoulder, repeating, ‘The blessing of God be upon thee’--‘thou art
a hyæna’--‘thou art a lion.’ He then abandoned the ring to another, who
showed off in the same manner.
“The right arm and hand of the pugilists were then bound with narrow
country cloth, beginning with a fold round the middle finger; when,
the hand being first clenched with the thumb between the fore and mid
fingers, the cloth was passed in many turns round the fist, the wrist,
and the forearm.
“After about twenty had separately gone through their attitudes of
defiance and appeals to the bystanders, they were next brought forward
by pairs. If they happened to be friends, they laid their left breasts
together twice, and exclaimed, ‘We are lions’--‘We are friends.’ One
then left the ring, and another was brought forward. If the two did not
recognize one another as friends, the set-to immediately commenced.
“On taking their stations, the two pugilists first stood at some
distance, parrying with the left hand open, and, whenever opportunity
offered, striking with the right. They generally aimed at the pit of
the stomach and under the ribs. Whenever they closed, one seized the
other’s head under his arm, and beat it with his fist, at the same
time striking with his knee between his antagonist’s thighs. In this
position, with the head ‘in chancery,’ they are said sometimes to
attempt to gouge or scoop out one of the eyes. When they break loose,
they never fail to give a swingeing blow with the heel under the ribs,
or sometimes under the left ear. It is these blows that are so often
fatal.
“The combatants were repeatedly separated by my orders, as they were
beginning to lose their temper. When this spectacle was heard of, girls
left their pitchers at the wells, the market-people threw down their
baskets, and all ran to see the fight. The whole square before my house
was crowded to excess. After six pairs had gone through several rounds,
I ordered them, to their great satisfaction, the promised reward, and
the multitude quietly dispersed.”
[Illustration: (1.) BEGHARMI LANCERS. (See page 635.)]
[Illustration: (2.) MUSGU CHIEF. (See page 639.)]
The Begharmi women are good dancers, their movements being gentle and
graceful. They make much use of their hands, sometimes crossing them
on their breasts, sometimes clasping them together, and sometimes just
pressing the tips of the fingers against those of the opposite hand.
As they dance, they sing in low and plaintive tones, swinging the body
backward and forward, and bending the head from side to side, ending by
sinking softly on the ground, and covering their faces.
MUSGU.
Nearly, if not quite equal to the Begharmis in stature and strength are
the MUSGU tribe, which inhabit a district of Mandara. In consequence
of their fine proportions, Musgu slaves are greatly valued by the
surrounding nations, and are employed in various ways. The sultans and
great chiefs are fond of having their male Musgu slaves as wrestlers;
and next in interest to a match between two Begharmis is a contest
between a Begharmi and a Musgu wrestler.
The female slaves are proportionately strong, but they are never
purchased by the Fezzan traders, because they lack beauty of feature
as much as they possess strength of muscle. Their faces are large and
ugly, and they have a custom of wearing a silver ornament in the lower
lip. This ornament is about as large as a shilling, and is worn exactly
after the fashion of the “pelele,” which has already been described and
figured. In order to make room for this ugly appendage, the women knock
out the two middle teeth of the lower jaw, and, in process of time,
the lip is dragged down by the inserted metal, and has a very horrid
and repulsive appearance. Their hair is dressed like that of the Bornu
women, _i. e._ one large plait or roll from the forehead to the nape of
the neck, and two others on each side.
They are very trustworthy, and are set to laborious tasks, from which
weaker slaves would shrink. They do all the agricultural work,--digging
the ground, planting the seed, and carrying home the crops. They also
perform the office of watchers, by night as well as by day, and there
is scarcely a year passes that one or two of these patient creatures
are not carried off by the lions, who creep up to them under shelter of
the corn, and then spring upon them.
The men are equally ugly. Only the chiefs wear any clothing, and
even they are seldom clad in anything more than a goat-skin or
leopard’s hide, hung over the shoulders so as to bring the head of the
animal on the wearer’s breast. Their heads are covered with rather
strange-looking caps, and their hair, as it straggles from under the
caps, is thick and bristly. They wear on their arms large rings of bone
or ivory, and round their necks hang trophies of their valor, being
necklaces made of the strung teeth of slain enemies. They paint their
bodies with red, and stain their teeth of the same color, so that they
present a singularly wild and savage appearance. They are mounted on
small but strong and active horses, which they ride without saddles and
almost without bridles, a slight piece of cord being tied halter-wise
round the animal’s muzzle.
Their weapons consist mostly of the spear and the missile knives,
similar to those which have been already described. The inferior men,
though they are mounted, and carry the same weapons as the chief, wear
no clothing except a leather girdle round the waist, and the same
light attire is worn by the women. Though so liable to be enslaved
themselves, they are great slave-dealers; and when they pay tribute to
the sultan of Mandara, or wish to make a peace-offering, the greater
part of it consists of slaves, both male and female.
In illustration No. 2, page 638, is seen a Musgu chief going to battle.
He is one of the very great chiefs, as is shown from the fact that he
wears a tobe instead of a skin. In his right hand is a spear, and in
his left a couple of the missile knives. Behind him ride his soldiers,
naked men on naked horses. In the background is seen a party of women
engaged in the water, with which element they are very familiar, and
are not kept out of it by any fear of wetting their clothes. Near
them is one of the mound-like tombs under which a dead chief has been
buried--the Musguese being almost the only African tribe who erect such
a monument.
The huts are seen a little farther back, and near them are two of the
remarkable granaries, covered with projecting ornaments, and mostly
kept so well filled that marauders are nearly as anxious to sack the
granaries as to steal the people. On the branches of the trees is a
quantity of grass which has been hung there to dry in the sun, and to
be used as hay for the horses.
When Major Denham was near the Musgu territory, he was told that these
strange and wild-looking people were Christians. He said that they
could not be so, because they had just begged of him the carcass of a
horse which had died during the night, and were at that time busily
employed in eating it. The man, however, adhered to his opinion,
saying that, although he certainly never had heard that Christians ate
horse-flesh, they did eat swine’s-flesh, and that was infinitely more
disgusting.
Those people were unwittingly the cause of great loss to the Bornuese
and Mandaras. The Arabs who had accompanied Denham and Clapperton from
Tripoli were very anxious, before returning home, to make a raid on
their own account, and bring back a number of Musgu slaves. The sheikh
of Bornu thought that this would be a good opportunity of utilizing the
fire-arms of the Arabs against the warlike and unyielding Fellatahs,
and sent them off together with three thousand of his own troops.
As had been anticipated, when they reached Mandara, the sultan would
not allow them to attack Musgu, which he looked upon as his own
particular slave-preserve, but added some of his own troops to those of
the Bornuan sheikh, and sent them to capture as many Fellatahs as they
liked, doing them the honor of accompanying the expedition in person.
It is also evident that both the sultan and the sheikh disliked as
well as feared the Arabs, and were very willing to turn to account the
terrible weapons which they carried, and by means of which they had
made themselves so overbearing and disagreeable.
When they reached the first Fellatah town and attacked it, they found
it to be strongly defended with _chevaux de frise_ of sharpened stakes
six feet in height, behind which were stationed their archers, who
poured showers of poisoned arrows on the invaders. The Arabs, after
a struggle, carried the fence and pursued the Fellatahs up the hill.
Here they were received with more arrows, brought to the archers by the
women, and with stones rolled down the hill. Had the Bornu and Mandara
soldiers pushed forward, the whole town must have been taken, instead
of which they prudently kept out of range of the poisoned arrows.
The Fellatahs, seeing their cowardice, then assumed the offensive,
whereupon the Bornu and Mandara soldiers at once ran away, headed by
the sultan, who would have laid claim to the town had the Arabs taken
it. The whole force was routed with great loss, the Bornu leader--a
truly brave man--was killed with a poisoned arrow, and Major Denham was
severely wounded, stripped of all his clothes, and barely escaped with
his life.
CHAPTER LXIV.
ABYSSINIA.
ABYSSINIA, THE LAND OF MYSTERY -- ORIGIN OF THE NAME -- THE KINGDOM
OF PRESTER JOHN -- THE THREE ABYSSINIAN DISTRICTS OR KINGDOMS --
GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE ABYSSINIANS -- DRESS OF THE MEN -- THE
QUARRY AND THE TROUSERS -- GOING TO BED -- THE DINO AND ITS FASHIONS
-- MEN’S ORNAMENTS -- HOW THE JEWELLER IS PAID -- WEAPONS OF THE
ABYSSINIANS -- THE SWORD OR SHOTEL, AND ITS SINGULAR FORM AND USES
-- THE SPEAR AND MODE OF KEEPING IT IN ORDER -- THE SHIELD AND ITS
ORNAMENTS -- APPEARANCE OF A MOUNTED CHIEF -- SWORDSMANSHIP -- THE
ABYSSINIAN AS A SOLDIER -- DRESS AND APPEARANCE OF THE WOMEN --
THEIR ORNAMENTS -- TATTOOING -- MODES OF DRESSING THE HAIR -- THE
ABYSSINIAN PILLOW.
Abyssinia is one of the most wonderful nations on the face of the
earth. It was long a land of mystery, in which the unicorn and the lion
held their deadly combats, in which dragons flapped their scaly wings
through the air, in which the mountains were of gold and the river-beds
paved with diamonds, and, greatest marvel of all, in which Prester
John, the priest and king, held his court, a Christian Solomon of the
Middle Ages.
In this last tale there was this amount of truth, that a Christian
Church existed in Abyssinia--a Church of extreme antiquity, which
has remained to the present day, having accommodated itself in a
most remarkable manner to the race-characteristics of the people.
Setting aside the interest which has been excited in Abyssinia by the
successful march of a British force to the military capital, Abyssinia
deserves description in this volume. At first sight it would appear
that a Christian country would find no place in a work which has
nothing to do with civilization; but, as we proceed with the account,
we shall find that Christianity in Abyssinia has done scarcely anything
to civilize the nation, as we understand the word, and, instead of
extirpating the savage customs of the people, has in a strange manner
existed alongside of them, if such a term may be used.
It is my purpose in the following pages to give a succinct description
of the uncivilized manners and customs of the Abyssinians, together
with a brief account of that peculiar system of Christianity which
could survive for nearly fifteen hundred years, and yet leave the
people in a scarcely better moral state than if they had never heard
the name of Christ.
* * * * *
Like many other large communities, the great Abyssinian nation is
composed of several elements, differing as much from each other as the
Scotch, the Irish, the Welsh, and the other mixed races who together
form the English nation. In Abyssinia, however, these different
elements have not fused themselves so much together as is the case with
this kingdom, and each principality is independent, having its own
ruler and its own laws.
That such a state of things is injurious to the interests of the
kingdom is evident to all students of history, and we find that every
great ruler has attempted to unite them under one head. The peculiar
character of the Africans is, however, strong in these people; and as
soon as the strong hand that held them together is removed, they fly
asunder, and resume their individuality. To the Abyssinian kingdom may
be well applied the familiar epigram of a “concurrence of antagonistic
atoms.”
Their native name, “Hàbash,” of which our word Abyssinia is a
corruption, signifies “mixture,” and is exceedingly appropriate to
them. Among the many mixtures which compose the Abyssinian nation,
the natives reckon a considerable Jewish element. They say that the
Sheba of Scripture was Abyssinia, and that their queen went to visit
Solomon for the express purpose of introducing the blood of so eminent
a sovereign into the royal succession of Abyssinia. She waited till she
had borne a son, and through that son the successive kings of Abyssinia
believe themselves to be lineal descendants of Solomon. Whether this
story be true or not, it is thoroughly in consonance with the very lax
morality of Abyssinian females. When the queen returned to her own
country, she was followed by a number of Jews, and they say that at
the time of the destruction of the Temple, and the captivity, a great
multitude of fugitives followed their compatriots, and took refuge in
Abyssinia.
Numbers of Greeks and Portuguese have at different times taken up their
residence in Abyssinia, and, like the immigrant Jews, been absorbed
into the country, so that the native name of Hàbash is seen to be well
deserved.
Three of the districts or sub-kingdoms have the best claim to the title
of Abyssinia, and are inhabited by Christians of that peculiar kind to
which allusion has just been made. The first is the Tigré (pronounced
Teegray) country, which takes its name as a province from a small
district to which this name belongs. It extends to the Red Sea on the
east, and to the Taccazy River on the west, and has a rather uncertain
range between lat. 15° and 12° N. It is divided from Nubia by a number
of independent tribes, while some of the Gallas and other tribes are on
its northern boundary.
Westward of the Taccazy lies the second kingdom or province, called
Amhara, in the middle of which is situated the city of Gondar; and
the third is Shooa, which lies southward of Tigré and Amhara, and,
strangely enough, is separated from them by Gallas and other tribes.
Of these three districts, Tigré seems to afford the best characteristic
of the Abyssinians, and therefore the chief part of the account will be
devoted to the Tigréans. Among these people Mr. Mansfield Parkyns lived
for a considerable time, and to him we are indebted for the greater
part of our information concerning this remarkable nation.
As a rule, the Abyssinians are of moderate stature, rather below than
above the English average. Mr. Parkyns saw one or two men who attained
the height of six feet two inches, but remarks that such examples were
very rare.
As is often the case with Africans, the complexion is exceedingly
variable, sometimes being of a very pale coppery brown, and sometimes
almost as dark as the negro. This variation, which is often the
effect of locality, is attributed by Mr. Parkyns to the mixture
of races. As, moreover, marriages are of the loosest description
in Abyssinia, Christian though it be, a man may be often seen with
a number of children by different wives, all unlike each other in
point of complexion; a brother and sister, for example, being totally
dissimilar, one short and black as a negro, and the other tall and fair
as an European.
The negro element seems to expend itself chiefly in color, the
peculiarity of the negro form having been nearly obliterated by
continual mixture with other races. Now and then the negro conformation
of leg shows itself, but even this evidence is rather uncommon.
The women of the higher class are remarkable for their beauty, not
only of feature but of form, and possess singularly small and pretty
hands and feet, all of which beauties their style of dress exhibits
freely. Their features are almost of the European type, and the eyes
are exceedingly large and beautiful--so large, indeed, that an exact
drawing would have the appearance of exaggeration to persons who are
unaccustomed to them. It is said, indeed, that the only women who can
be compared with the Abyssinians are the French half-caste of the
Mauritius. The engraving No. 2 on the next page will give a good idea
of the features and general appearance of the Abyssinians.
Beginning at the top, we have first a profile view of a woman’s head,
to show the elaborate way in which the hair is plaited and arranged.
Next comes a front view of a head, showing the appearance of the hair
as it is teased and combed out before plaiting. The third figure gives
a view of the head and bust of a lady of rank. This is drawn to show
another mode of arranging the hair, as well as the elaborate tattoo
with which the women love to decorate every inch of the body and limbs
from the neck to the tips of the fingers and toes.
Below are the portraits of two men. One, a priest, has covered his
shaven head with a white turban, the mark of the priesthood among
the Abyssinians, among whom the laity wear no head covering save
their highly-decorated and well-greased locks. The second portrait
is the profile view of a man, and gives a good idea of the cast of
countenance. The reader may scarcely believe that the Abyssinians have
been cited by a certain school of philanthropists as examples of the
intellectual capability of the _negro_.
Next to the personal appearance of the Abyssinians comes their dress.
Varying slightly in different parts of the country, and changing in
some of its details according to the fashion of the day, the dress
of the Abyssinians is essentially the same throughout the kingdom.
The principal articles of dress are trousers, and a large mantle or
“quarry.”
[Illustration: (1.) DINNER PARTY. (See page 656.)]
[Illustration: (2.) ABYSSINIAN HEADS. (See page 642.)]
The trousers are of soft cotton, and of two kinds, the one descending
some three inches below the knee, and the other terminating the same
distance above it. The trousers are very tight, and an Abyssinian dandy
will wear them of so very close a fit that to get them on is nearly an
hour’s work.
Round the waist is rolled the sash or belt, about one yard in width.
This is also of cotton, and varies in length according to the fineness
of the material. A common belt will be about fifteen yards in length,
but a very fine one, which only contains the same amount of material,
will be from fifty to sixty yards long. From thirty to forty yards is
the ordinary length for an Abyssinian gentleman’s belt. It is put on
by holding the end with one hand to the side, and getting a friend to
spread it with his hands, while the wearer turns round and round, and
so winds himself up in the belt, just as our officers did when the long
silk sashes were worn round the waist.
These belts are not only useful in preserving health, but act as
defensive armor in a country where all the men are armed, and where
they are apt to quarrel terribly as soon as they are excited by drink.
Even in war time, the belt often protects the wearer from a blow which
he has only partially guarded with his shield.
Like the trousers and belt, the mantle or “quarry” is made of cotton,
and is very fine and soft. It is made in a rather curious manner. The
ordinary quarry consists of three pieces of cotton cloth, each fifteen
feet long by three wide, and having at each end a red stripe, some five
or six inches in width. These are put together after a rather curious
and complicated manner. “One is first taken and doubled carefully, so
that the red stripes of each end come exactly together. A second piece
is then taken, and also folded, but inside out, and one half of it
laid under and the other half over the first piece, so that the four
red borders now come together. One edge of this quadruple cloth is
then sewed from top to bottom, and the last-mentioned piece is turned
back, so that the two together form one double cloth of two breadths.
The third piece is now added in a similar manner, the whole forming
a ‘quarry’ which, lest any reader should have got confused with the
above description, is a white double cloth, with a red border near the
bottom only.” A completed quarry is seven feet six inches long, by nine
feet wide. The quarries are seldom washed more than once a year, and,
in consequence of the abundant grease used in the Abyssinian toilet,
they become horribly dirty. The natives, however, rather admire this
appearance. An Abyssinian dandy despises a clean quarry, and would no
more wash his mantle than a fashionable lady would bleach a piece of
old lace.
There are different qualities of quarry, the best being made of
materials so fine that six pieces are required, and it is folded four
times double. The colored stripe at the edge is of red, yellow, and
blue silk, neatly worked together. It is worn in various modes, the
most usual resembling that in which a Highlander wears his plaid, so as
to leave the right arm at liberty.
The quarry forms the sleeping costume of the Abyssinians, who take
off their trousers, and roll themselves up so completely in their
mantles that they cover up their entire bodies, limbs, and heads. When
they arrange themselves for the night, they contrive to remove their
trousers, and even their belts, without exposing themselves in the
least: and when we remember the extreme tightness of the former article
of dress, and the inordinate length of the latter, it is a matter of
some surprise that the feat should be accomplished so cleverly.
Married persons pack themselves up in a similar manner, but in pairs,
their mantles forming a covering for the two. It is very curious to see
how they manage to perform this seemingly impossible task. They seat
themselves side by side, the man on the woman’s right hand, and place
the short end of the quarry under them. The long end is then thrown
over their heads, and under its shelter the garments are removed. The
quarry is rolled tightly round the couple, and they are ready for
repose.
So large a mantle is, of course, inconvenient on a windy day, and in
battle would be a fatal encumbrance. On the former occasion it is
confined to the body by a short, cape-like garment called the “dino” or
“lemd,” and in war the quarry is laid aside, and the dino substituted
for it. The dino is often a very elaborate garment, made of cloth,
velvet, or, more frequently, the skin of some animal, cut in a peculiar
manner so as to leave eight strips pendent from the lower edge by way
of a fringe.
The skins of the lion and black leopard are most esteemed, and are
only worn on gala days by chiefs and very great warriors. They are
lined with scarlet cloth, and are fitted with a number of amulets which
appear in front of the breast. A dino made of the black-maned lion skin
will often be valued at eight or ten pounds, while a common one will
scarcely cost one-tenth of that amount. A very favorite skin is that
of the unborn calf, which takes a soft lustre like that of velvet, and
accordingly can only be worn by dandies who are rich enough to purchase
it, or kill a cow for the sake of this skin. An ordinary calf-skin
is contemned, and would only be worn by a man of the lowest class. A
peculiar kind of sheep is kept by the Abyssinians for the sake of its
wool, which is sometimes more than two feet in length.
The sheep lead a very artificial life, are kept day and night on
couches, are fed with meat and milk, and their fleeces washed and
combed regularly as if they were ladies’ lap-dogs. The result of this
treatment is, that they have beautiful fleeces, which are worth from
twenty to thirty shillings each, but their flesh is utterly useless for
consumption, being very small in quantity, and offensive in quality.
The fleeces are generally dyed black, that being a fashionable color in
Abyssinia.
The skin of the hyæna or the dog is never used for clothing, and the
natives have a superstitious fear of the red jackal, thinking that if
they should be wounded while wearing a dino of jackal skin, one of the
hairs might enter the wound, and so prove fatal to the sufferer. The
leopard skin is never worn by ordinary Abyssinians, being exclusively
used by the Gallas and Shooas, and by a certain set of dervishes called
the Zacchâri.
Contrary to the habit of most African nations, the men wear but few
ornaments, those which they employ being almost always signs of valor.
Amulets are found on almost every man, and many of them wear whole
strings of these sacred articles, crossed over the shoulders and
falling as low as the knees. Most Abyssinians carry a pair of tweezers
for extracting thorns from the feet and legs, and the wealthier among
them place their tweezers in a highly ornamented silver case, which is
hung from the handle of the sword.
Whenever an Abyssinian is seen wearing a silver chain, he is known to
have killed an elephant, while those who have distinguished themselves
in battle are known by a sort of silver bracelet, which extends from
the wrist nearly as far as the elbow. It opens longitudinally by
hinges, and is fastened with a clasp. This ornament is called the
“bitoa,” and is often very elegantly engraved, and adorned with gilded
patterns. The silversmiths who make these and similar articles are
rather oddly treated. They are considered as slaves, are not allowed to
leave the country, and yet are treated with considerable kindness, save
and except the payment for their labor.
Consequently, the silversmith, finding that he has to wait a very long
time for his money, and probably will not get it at all, is forced to
pay himself by embezzling a quantity of the gold and silver which are
given him for the manufacture of the bracelet, and substituting an
equal amount of less precious metal. Mr. Parkyns mentions that he has
known a man to receive silver equal to thirty sequins, and to use in
the work rather less than eight. Many of these bracelets are ornamented
with little bell-like pieces of silver round the edge, which tinkle
and clash as the wearer moves. Similar bells are attached to a sort of
silver coronet worn by very great men, and, together with the silver
chains to which they are attached, hang over the ears and neck of the
wearer.
As to the weapons of the Abyssinians, they consist chiefly of the
sword, spear, and shield. In later days fire-arms have been introduced,
but, as this work treats only of the uncivilized part of mankind, these
weapons will not be reckoned in the Abyssinian armory.
The sword, or “Shotel,” is a very oddly-shaped weapon. The blade is
nearly straight for some two feet, and then turns suddenly like a
sickle, but with a more angular bend. The edge is on the inside, and
this peculiar form is intended for striking downward over the enemy’s
shield. In order to give weight to the blow, the blade is much wider
and heavier toward the point than at the hilt. As if this form of blade
did not make the sword feeble enough, the hilt is so constructed that
it prevents all play of the wrist. The handle is made of a pyramidal
piece of rhinoceros horn, five inches wide at one end, and three at the
other. It is made into the proper shape for a handle by cutting out
semicircular pieces along the sides, leaving the four sharp corners in
their previous form. When the sword is grasped, one of the four angles
must come under the wrist, so that if the weapon were allowed to play
freely, as in ordinary swordsmanship, the point would be driven into
the wrist.
As with the natives of Southern Africa, the Abyssinians prefer soft
iron to tempered steel, the former admitting of being straightened when
bent, but the latter being apt to snap. The sword is always hung on the
right side, in order to be out of the way of the shield, especially
when, as in travelling, it is swung backward and forward with the play
of the left arm.
The sheath of the sword is made of leather or red morocco, and is
ornamented by the great men with a number of silver plates. At the end
of the sheath is a metal ball, called “lomita.” This curious ornament
is mostly of silver, and is almost as large as a billiard ball. The
sword-belt is of the same material as the scabbard.
The spear is from six to seven feet in length, and the head is squared
like that of a pike. The four sides are mostly grooved, so that the
head of the weapon looks something like a quadrangular bayonet. This
spear is used both as a lance and as a javelin, a good soldier being
able to strike a man at thirty or forty yards’ distance. The cavalry
always carry two spears, one of which is thrown, and the other retained
to be used as a lance. They have rather a curious mode of using the
lance, aiming it at the adversary as if they meant to throw it, but
only letting the shaft slip through the hand, and catching it by the
butt.
The shafts of the spears are very neatly made and much pains are
bestowed upon them. They are made of very young trees, which are
cleared of the bark by fire, and are then straightened and dried. This
operation requires a very skilful manipulator, as, if the wood be too
much dried, it is brittle and snaps; if irregularly heated, it never
will remain straight; and if not dried sufficiently, it warps with
every change of weather. When properly straightened, the shafts are
greased and hung over the fire for several months, until they assume
the proper reddish-yellow hue.
When not in use, each lance is kept in a sheath, to the top of which is
fastened a loop by which it can be hung to the end of the cow’s horn
which does duty for a peg in Abyssinian houses, and which is just long
enough to allow the lance to hang straight without touching the wall.
The Abyssinian shield is made of buffalo hide, and is strong enough to
resist any sword cut, and to throw off a spear if received obliquely
upon it. If, however, a good spear should strike the shield fairly,
it will pierce it. In order to preserve the needful obliquity, the
shield is made like the segment of a sphere, and has a projecting
boss in the centre. The shield is almost always ornamented, the most
valued decorations being the mane, tail, and paw of a lion, arranged in
various ways according to the taste of the owner. To some shields is
attached the skin of the Guereza monkey, which, with its bold contrast
of long jetty-black and snowy-white hair, has really a striking and
artistic effect. This, however, is always discarded when the native
kills a lion.
Chiefs always have their shields nearly covered with silver plates and
bosses, a fashion which is imitated in brass by the poorer soldiers.
Still, if a common soldier had a good shield, he would not hide its
beauties with brass plates. A chief is distinguished not only by his
silver-mounted shield, but by his silver-plated sword-scabbard. On
his head he wears a silver frontlet, called “akodamir,” having silver
chains hanging from it, and a white feather stuck in the hair behind
the frontlet. If a man of notable courage, he also wears the lion-skin
dino.
Round the edge of the shield are pierced a number of holes, through
which is passed the thong that suspends it to the wall when not in
use. Each day, as it hangs on the wall, the owner takes it down and
shifts the thong from one hole to another, so that the shield may not
be warped, and lose its prized roundness. The shield must swing quite
clear of the wall.
To a good swordsman the shield would be an encumbrance, and not a
means of safety. On account of the necessity of holding out the shield
with the left arm, the sword becomes of little value as an offensive
weapon, the owner not daring to strike lest he should expose himself
to a counter blow. Whereas he who, like Fitz-James, finds his “blade
both sword and shield,” makes very light of an Abyssinian warrior’s
prowess. Mr. Parkyns says on this subject, that any ordinary swordsman,
without a shield, can easily beat the best Abyssinian armed with sword
and shield also. The best mode of fighting the Abyssinian warrior is
to make a feint at his head. Up goes his heavy shield, which certainly
guards his head, but prevents the owner from seeing that his adversary
is making a sweeping cut at his legs. Should the cut 5 or 6 fail,
make another feint at the head, and follow it up with a real blow.
Anticipating a feint, the Abyssinian lowers his shield to protect his
legs, and, as he does so, receives the edge of the sword full on his
unprotected crown.
Although he is well armed, looks very fierce, and is of a quarrelsome
disposition, the Abyssinian soldier is not remarkable for courage, and
prefers boasting to fighting. He never seems to enter the battle with
the idea of merely killing or routing the enemy, but is always looking
out for trophies for himself. As with many nations, and as was the case
with the Israelites in the earlier times, the Abyssinian mutilates a
fallen enemy, and carries off a portion of his body as a trophy, which
he can exhibit before his chief, and on which he can found a reputation
for valor for the rest of his life.
So much do the Abyssinians prize this savage trophy that, just as
American Indians have feigned death and submitted to the loss of their
scalps without giving the least sign of life, men wounded in battle
have suffered an even more cruel mutilation, and survived the injury.
An Abyssinian has even been known to kill a comrade in order to secure
this valued trophy, when he has been unable, either from mischance or
want of courage, to kill an enemy.
* * * * *
We come now to the women and their dress.
Young girls are costumed in the simplest possible style, namely, a
piece of cotton stuff wrapped round the waist, and descending half way
to the knee. Should the girl be rich enough to afford a large wrapper,
she brings one end of it upward and throws it over the left shoulder.
In Tigré the girls prefer a black goatskin, ornamented with cowries.
A married woman wears a sort of loose shirt, and a mantle, or quarry,
similar to that which is worn by the men, but of finer materials.
Should she be able to own a mule, she wears trousers, which are very
full at the waist, and decrease gradually to the ankle, where they fit
like the skin.
As to their ornaments, they are so numerous as to defy description.
That which costs the least, and is yet the most valued, is the tattoo,
which is employed with a profusion worthy of the New Zealander. “The
Tigréan ladies,” so writes Mr. Parkyns, “tattoo themselves; though,
as this mode of adorning the person is not common excepting among the
inhabitants of the capital and persons who have passed some time there,
I should judge it to be a fashion imported from the Amhara.
“The men seldom tattoo more than one ornament on the upper part of
the arm, near the shoulder, while the women cover nearly the whole of
their bodies with stars, lines, and crosses, often rather tastefully
arranged. I may well say nearly the whole of their persons, for they
mark the neck, shoulders, breasts, and arms, down to the fingers, which
are enriched with lines, to imitate rings, nearly to the nails. The
feet, ankles, and calves of the legs are similarly adorned, and even
the gums are by some pricked entirely blue, while others have them
striped alternately blue and the natural pink.
“To see some of their designs, one would give them credit for some
skill in the handling their pencil; but, in fact, their system of
drawing the pattern is purely mechanical. I had one arm adorned; a
rather blind old woman was the artist; her implements consisted of
a small pot of some sort of blacking, made, she told me, of charred
herbs, a large homemade iron pin, about one-fourth of an inch at the
end of which was ground fine, a bit or two of hollow cane, and a piece
of straw. The two last-named items were her substitutes for pencils.
“Her circles were made by dipping the end of a piece of cane of the
required size into the blacking, and making its impression on the skin;
while an end of the straw, bent to the proper length, and likewise
blackened, marked all the lines, squares, diamonds, &c., which were to
be of equal length. Her design being thus completed, she worked away
on it with her pin, which she dug in as far as the thin part would
enter, keeping the supply of blacking sufficient, and going over the
same ground repeatedly to insure regularity and unity in the lines.
With some persons the first effect of this tattooing is to produce
a considerable amount of fever, from the irritation caused by the
punctures, especially so with the ladies, from the extent of surface
thus rendered sore. To allay this irritation, they are generally
obliged to remain for a few days in a case of vegetable matter, which
is plastered all over them in the form of a sort of green poultice.
A scab forms over the tattooing, which should not be picked off, but
allowed to fall off of itself. When this disappears, the operation
is complete, and the marks are indelible; nay, more, the Abyssinians
declare that they may be traced on the person’s bones even after death
has bared them of their fleshy covering.”
The women also wear a vast number of silver ornaments, such as several
chains round the neck, three pairs of silver or gilt bracelets, a
number of little silver ornaments hung like bells to the ankles, above
which are a series of bangles of the same metal. A wealthy woman has
also a large flat silver case, containing talismans, and ornamented
with bells of the same metal, suspended by four silver chains; while
her hair is decorated with a large silver pin, elaborately made, and
furnished with a number of pendent ornaments.
The illustration No. 1, 617th page, exhibits the costume of an
Abyssinian lady, and the difference in dress between herself and her
servants. The latter--who, of course, are her slaves, no other idea
of servitude entering the Abyssinian mind--are washing clothes in a
brook, in preparation for the Feast of St. John, the only day in the
year when the Abyssinians trouble them- to wash either their clothes or
themselves. Other slaves are carrying water-jars on their backs--not
on their heads; and in the foreground stands their mistress giving her
orders. The reader will note the graceful way in which the mantle is
put on, and the string of leathern amulet cases which hangs by her side.
As to the hair itself, it is dressed in a peculiar manner. It is
gathered into a multitude of plaits, beginning at the very top of
the head, and falling as low as the neck. Both sexes have the hair
plaited in this manner, but the men wear their plaits in various ways.
According to strict Abyssinian etiquette, which has greatly faded
in later years, a youth who has not distinguished himself ought to
wear his hair unplaited. As soon as he has killed a man in battle, he
shaves his head, with the exception of a single plait, and for every
additional victim a fresh plait is added. When he kills the fifth, he
is allowed to wear the whole of his hair in tresses.
This mode of dressing the hair occupies a vast amount of time, but time
is of no value to an Abyssinian, who expends several hours upon his
head once every fortnight or so. The plaits are held in their places
by a sort of fixture made of boiled cotton-seeds, and are plentifully
saturated with butter. Vast quantities of this latter article are
consumed in Abyssinian toilets, and it is considered a mark of fashion
to place a large pat of butter on the top of the head before going out
in the morning, and to allow it to be melted by the heat of the sun and
run over the hair. Of course it drips from the ends of the long tresses
on the neck and clothes of the wearer, but such stains are considered
as marks of wealth. Sometimes it runs over the face, and is apt to
get into the eyes, so that in hot weather the corner of the quarry is
largely used in wiping away the trickling butter.
In order to preserve the arrangement of the hair during the night, they
use instead of a pillow a sort of short crutch, looking very like a
common scraper with a rounded top.
CHAPTER LXV.
ABYSSINIA--_Continued_.
GOVERNMENT OF ABYSSINIA -- THE EMPEROR AND HIS GENEALOGY -- THE
THREE DISTRICTS AND THEIR RULERS -- THE MINOR CHIEFS AND THEIR
DISTINGUISHING EMBLEMS -- KING THEODORE -- A BRIEF SKETCH OF HIS
LIFE -- CAREER FROM THE RANKS TO THE THRONE -- HIS ATTEMPTS AT
REFORM -- ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE -- A MODERN SOLOMON -- MODES OF
PUNISHMENT -- THE LADIES’ GAME -- ABYSSINIAN PLEADING -- THE TRIAL
BY WAGER -- QUARRELSOME CHARACTER OF THE ABYSSINIANS -- THEIR VANITY
AND BOASTFULNESS -- THE LAW OF DEBT -- HOSPITALITY AND ITS DUTIES --
COOKERY AND MODES OF EATING -- THE RAW FLESH FEAST -- PEPPER SAUCE --
THE USE OF THE SHOTEL -- A WEDDING FEAST -- ABYSSINIAN DIGESTION.
The government of the Abyssinians has varied several times, but has
mostly settled down into a sort of divided monarchy.
There is an Emperor, supreme king, or Negust, who must be a lineal
descendant of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, and who must be crowned
by the high priest or Abuna, an ecclesiastic who corresponds very
nearly with the Greek Patriarch. Mostly, the king holds but nominal
sway over the fierce and insubordinate chiefs of provinces, and, as is
likely, the fiercest, cleverest, and most unscrupulous chief generally
contrives to manage the king much as he likes. Should the king be
strong-minded enough to hold his own opinions, the chiefs become
dissatisfied, and by degrees fall into a state of chronic rebellion, as
was the case during the last years of Theodore’s life.
Each of the great districts has its own Ras, chief, or prince,
according to the title that may be used, and his authority is absolute
in his own province. The Ras appoints under him a number of great
chiefs, who bear the title of Dejasmatch (commonly contracted into
Dejatch), corresponding in some degree with our ducal rank. Under these
great chiefs are lesser officers, and each of them is appointed by beat
of the great drum of ceremony and proclamation by the heralds. Men so
appointed have the privilege of drums beating before them on a march
or in battle, and their rank, that of “addy negarie,” or men of honor,
confers the same practical power as that of Dejasmatch, the title alone
being wanting.
It may be as well to mention that the late King Theodore held the title
of Dejasmatch before he had himself named King of Ethiopia; and as the
history of this remarkable man gives some idea of the Abyssinian mode
of government, a very brief sketch will be given of his progress to the
throne.
Putting together the various histories that have appeared, and
rejecting their many discrepancies, we come to the following series of
events.
Kassai, for such was his name before he changed it to Theodorus, was
the son of a very small chief named Hailu Weleda Georgis, whose only
distinction seems to have been his reputed descent from the Queen of
Sheba, a tradition of which Kassai afterward took advantage. When he
died, his little property was seized by his relations, and his widow
was forced to support herself by selling the “kosso,” the popular
remedy for the tape-worm, a creature which is singularly prevalent in
this country. Kassai, then a boy, took refuge in a monastery, where
he might have remained until this day, had not a Dejasmatch, who had
turned rebel after their custom, attacked the monastery, burned the
huts of which it was composed, and killed the boys who inhabited it by
way of avenging himself on their parents. Kassai, however, escaped the
massacre, and fled to a powerful and warlike relation, the Dejasmatch
Coufu, under whom he learned the management of arms, and as much of the
art of war as was known.
His uncle however died, and his two sons immediately fought for
the patrimony; and, while they were quarrelling, another powerful
Dejasmatch saw his opportunity, swept down suddenly upon them, and made
himself master of the best and most fertile part of the district.
Again ejected from a home, Kassai contrived to get together a band of
followers, whom we should not wrong very greatly by calling robbers,
and for some years lived a wandering life marvellously resembling that
of David in his earlier years. By degrees his band increased until some
of the petty chiefs joined him with their followers, and he became a
man of such importance that the well-known Waisoro Mennen, the crafty
and ambitious mother of Ras Ali, finding that he could not be beaten
in the field, gave him in marriage the daughter of the Ras. She,
however, proved a faithful wife to him, and would have nothing to do
with the schemes of her grandmother. At last Kassai and Waisoro Mennen
came to an open rupture, and fought a battle, in which the former was
victorious, and captured both the lady and her fine province of Dembea.
The latter he kept, but the former he set at liberty.
Ras Ali then tried to rid himself of his troublesome son-in-law by
assigning Dembea to Berru Goshu, a powerful Dejasmatch, who accordingly
invaded the district, and drove Kassai out of it. This happened in
1850. In less than two years, however, Kassai reorganized an army,
attacked the camp of Berru Goshu, shot him with his own hand, and got
back his province. Thinking that matters were now becoming serious, Ras
Ali took the field in person and marched against Kassai, who conquered
him, drove him among the Gallas for safety, and took possession of the
whole of Amhara.
Having secured this splendid prize, he sent to Ras Oubi, the Prince
of Tigré, and demanded tribute. Oubi refused, led his army against
Kassai, and lost both his province and his liberty. The conqueror kept
him in prison until 1860, when his first wife died, and he married the
daughter of Oubi, whom he released and made a tributary vassal.
Being now practically master of the whole country, he sent for Abba
Salama, the then Abuna or Patriarch, and had himself crowned by the
title of Theodorus, King of the kings of Ethiopia. This event took
place in 1855; and from that time to his death Theodore maintained his
supremacy, his astonishing personal authority keeping in check the
fierce and rebellious spirits by whom he was surrounded. How he really
tried to do the best for his country we all know. Semi-savage as he
was by nature, he possessed many virtues, and, had he known his epoch
better, would still have been on the throne, the ruler of a contented
instead of a rebellious people. But he was too far ahead of his age. He
saw the necessity for reforms, and impatiently tried to force them on
the people, instead of gently paving the way for them. The inevitable
results followed, and Theodore’s mind at last gave way under the cares
of empire and the continual thwartings of his many schemes. Still, even
to the last he never lost his self-reliance nor his splendid courage,
and, though the balance of his mind was gone, and he alternated between
acts of singular kindness and savage cruelty, he fought to the last,
and not until he was deserted by his soldiers did he die by his own
hand at the entrance of his stronghold.
He saw very clearly that the only way to establish a consolidated
kingdom was to break the power of the great chiefs or princes. This
he did by the simple process of putting them in chains until they
yielded their executive powers, and contented themselves rather
with the authority of generals than of irresponsible rulers. He was
also desirous of doing away with the custom that made every man an
armed soldier, and wished to substitute a paid standing army for the
miscellaneous horde of armed men that filled the country. He was
anxious to promote agriculture, and, according to his own words, not
only to turn swords into reaping-hooks--a very easy thing, by the way,
with an Abyssinian sword--but to make a ploughing ox more valuable than
a war-horse. To his own branch of the Church he was deeply attached,
and openly said that he had a mission to drive Islamism from his
country, and for that reason was at war with the Gallas, who, as well
as the Shooas and other tribes, profess the religion of Mohammed. That
being done, he intended to march and raze to the ground Mecca and
Medina, the two sacred cities of Islam; and even projected a march to
Jerusalem itself.
His most difficult task, however, was the suppression of the immorality
that reigns throughout Abyssinia, and which, according to Mr. Parkyns,
has a curious effect on the manners of the people. Neither men nor
women seem to have any idea that the least shame can be attached to
immorality, and the consequence is that both in word and manner they
are perfectly decorous. To cope with so ingrained a vice seems an
impracticable task, and such it turned out to be. He set the example
to his people by only taking one wife, and when she died he had many
scruples about the legality of taking another, and did not do so until
after consultation with European friends and careful examination of the
Bible. He could not, however, keep up the fight against nature, and in
his last years he had resorted to the old custom of the harem.
[Illustration: (1.) THEODORE AND THE LIONS. (See page 653.)]
[Illustration: (2.) PLEADERS. (See page 654.)]
As the reader would probably like to see what kind of a man was this
Theodorus, I give a portrait on page 652, taken from a sketch made of
him while he was in the enjoyment of perfect health of body and mind,
and while he was the irresponsible ruler of his country, knowing of
none greater than himself, and having his mind filled with schemes of
conquest of other lands, and reform of his own. The portrait was taken
by M. Lejean, some ten years before the death of Theodorus; and, in
spite of the loss of his hair, which he wore short in the last years
of his life, and of the ravages which time, anxiety, and misdirected
zeal had made in his features, the face is essentially the same as that
of the dead man who lay within the gates of Magdala on the fatal Good
Friday of 1868.
Knowing the character of the people over whom he reigned, Theodore
made liberal use of external accessories for the purpose of striking
awe into them, such as magnificent robes and weapons adorned with the
precious metals. Among the most valued of these accessories were four
tame lions, of which he was very fond. These animals travelled about
with him, and even lived in the same stable with the horses, never
being chained or shut up in cages, but allowed to walk about in perfect
liberty. They were as tame and docile as dogs, and M. Lejean states
that the only objection to them was the over-demonstrative affection of
their manners. Like cats they delighted to be noticed and made much of,
and were apt to become unpleasantly importunate in soliciting caresses.
They were, however, somewhat short-tempered when travelling over the
mountain ranges, the cold weather of those elevated regions making them
uncomfortable and snappish. With an idea of impressing his subjects
with his importance, an art in which he was eminently successful,
Theodore was accustomed to have his lions with him when he gave
audience, and the accompanying portrait was taken from a sketch of the
Lion of Abyssinia seated in the audience-chamber, and surrounded with
the living emblems of the title which he bore, and which he perpetuated
in his royal seal.
* * * * *
Justice is administered in various modes, sometimes by the will of
the chief, and sometimes by a sort of court or council of elders. The
former process is generally of a very summary character, and is based
on the old Mosaic principle of an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a
tooth. If one man murders another, for example, and the culprit be
detected, the Ras will direct the nearest relation of the murderer to
kill him in precisely the same manner that he killed his victim. One
very odd case was investigated by Oubi, the Ras or Prince of Tigré.
Two little boys, the elder eight and the younger five years of age, had
been walking together, when they saw a tree laden with fruit. After
some difficulty, the elder climbed into the tree, and, standing on a
branch, plucked the fruit and threw it to his little companion who
stood below him. By some accident or other he fell from the tree upon
the head of his playfellow, and killed him on the spot. The parents of
the poor child insisted that the boy who killed him should be arraigned
for murder, and, after a vast amount of consultation, he was found
guilty. Ras Oubi then gave sentence. The culprit was to stand under the
branch exactly where had stood the poor little boy. The eldest brother
was then to climb up the tree and fall on the other boy’s head until he
killed him.
Theft is generally punished with flogging, the whip being a most
formidable weapon, made of hide, and called, from its length
and weight, the “giraffe.” A thief is sometimes taken into the
market-place, stripped to the waist, and led by two men, while a third
delivers a terrific series of blows with the giraffe whip. After each
blow the delinquent is forced to exclaim, “All ye who see me thus,
profit by my example.”
Many other offences, such as sacrilege, rebellion, and the like,
are punished by the loss of a hand or a foot, sometimes of both.
The forfeited member is amputated in a very clumsy way, with a
small curved knife, so that a careless or maladroit executioner can
inflict frightful suffering. The culprit generally gives a fee to the
executioner, who will then put as keen an edge as possible on the
knife, and tell the sufferer how to arrange his hand, and spread his
fingers, so that the tendons may be stretched, and the joint separated
easily. One man of rank, who had been condemned to lose his left hand,
suffered the operation without moving a muscle of his countenance, and
when the hand was severed, he took it up with his right, and flung it
in the face of the presiding chief, with the exclamation that he still
had a hand wherewith to fling a spear. With the same equanimity he
dipped the bleeding stump into the boiling oil which is generally used
as a styptic. Sometimes, however, the use of the hot oil is forbidden,
and the sufferer is left to bleed to death.
The Abyssinians, however, are as little sensitive to pain as most
African tribes, and endure with ease injuries which would kill
an European. The young men have a curious amusement, which well
exemplifies their insensibility to pain. “When a party of young men
are seated together, the ladies present will bring bits of the pith
of millet stems, cut to about an inch long, and of the thickness of
a man’s thumb, or, what is better still, pieces of old rag, rolled
tight, so as to form a pellet of similar dimensions. These are arranged
in patterns by each lady on the extended arm of any one whom she may
choose, and their tops lighted.
“The only merit in the man is to allow them to burn themselves out
entirely, without moving his arm so as to cause them to fall, or
evincing the slightest consciousness of pain either by word, look,
or gesture. On the contrary, he must continue a flow of agreeable
conversation, as if nothing were occurring. The lady operator usually
blows her fires to keep them going, and the material, whether pith or
rag, being of a very porous nature, and burning slowly like tinder,
the action of the fire is felt on the skin long before it actually
reaches it. It is, in fact, an operation similar to the ‘moxa’ of
European surgery. When the pellets are completely burned out, the lady
rubs her hand roughly over the cauterized parts, so as to remove the
burnt skin. On a copper-colored person the scars, when well healed,
assume a polished black surface, which contrasts very prettily with the
surrounding skin.”
The courts of justice, to which allusion has been made, are composed
of elders; or not unfrequently the chief of the district acts as the
magistrate. When two persons fall into a dispute and bring it before
the court, an officer comes for the litigants, and ties together the
corner of their quarries. Holding them by the knot, he leads them
before the magistrate, where each is at liberty to plead his own
cause. From the moment that the knot is tied, neither is allowed to
speak, under penalty of a heavy fine, until they have come before the
magistrate; and when the trial has begun, (see engraving No. 2, p.
652,) the plaintiff has the first right of speech, followed by the
defendant in reply. Neither is allowed to interrupt the other under
pain of a fine; but, in compassion to the weakness of human nature,
the non-speaker may grunt if he likes when the adversary makes any
statement that displeases him.
The oddest part of the proceeding is the custom of betting, or rather
paying forfeits, on the result of the investigation. A plaintiff, for
example, offers to bet one, two, or more mules, and the defendant feels
himself bound to accept the challenge, though he may sometimes modify
the amount of the bet. When the case is determined, the loser pays
the sum, not to the winner, but to the chief who decides the case. A
“mule,” by the way, does not necessarily mean the animal, but the word
is used conventionally to represent a certain sum of money, so that a
“mule” means ten dollars, just as among English sporting men a “pony”
signifies £25.
This practice is carried on to such an extent that Mr. Parkyns has seen
ten mules betted upon the payment of a small quantity of corn, worth
only two or three shillings. The object of the “bet” seems to be that
the offer binds the opposite party to carry out the litigation, and
when it is offered, the chief forces the loser to pay under the penalty
of being put in chains.
It may be seen from the foregoing observations that the Abyssinians are
rather a quarrelsome people. This arises chiefly from their vanity,
which is extreme, and which culminates to its highest point when the
brain is excited and the tongue loosened by drink. It was this national
characteristic which induced King Theodore to imagine himself the equal
of any monarch on the face of the earth, and to fancy that he could
cope successfully with the power of England.
Mr. Mansfield Parkyns gives a very amusing account of this national
failing.
“Vanity is one of the principal besetting sins of the Abyssinians, and
it is to this weakness, when brought out by liquor, that the origin
of most of their quarrels may be traced. I remember more than once to
have heard a remark something like the following made by one of two
men who, from being ‘my dear friends,’ had chosen to sit next to each
other at table: ‘You’re a very good fellow, and my very dear friend;
but (hiccup) you aren’t half so brave or handsome as I am!’ The ‘very
dear friend’ denies the fact in a tone of voice denoting anything but
amity, and states that his opinion is exactly the reverse. The parties
warm in the argument; words, as is usual when men are in such a state,
are bandied about without any measure, and often without much meaning;
insults follow; then blows; and if the parties round them be in a
similar condition to themselves, and do not immediately separate them,
it frequently happens that swords are drawn.
“Dangerous wounds or death are the consequence; or, as is not uncommon,
others of the party, siding with the quarrellers, probably with the
idea of settling the affair, are induced to join in the row, which in
the end becomes a general engagement. I have noticed this trait of
vanity as exhibiting itself in various ways in a drunken Abyssinian.
I always found that the best plan for keeping a man quiet, when in
this state, was to remark to him that it was unbecoming in a great
man to behave in such a way, that people of rank were dignified and
reserved in their manners and conversation. And thus I have argued very
successfully with my own servants on more than one occasion, flattering
them while they were tipsy, and then paying them off with a five-foot
male bamboo when they got sober again.
“I recollect one fellow who was privileged, for he had asked my leave
to go to a party and get drunk. On returning home in the evening, he
staggered into my room in as dignified a manner as he could, and,
seating himself beside me on my couch, embraced me with tears in his
eyes, made me a thousand protestations of attachment and affection,
offering to serve me in any way he could, but never by a single
expression evincing that he considered me as other than a dear friend,
and that indeed in rather a patronizing fashion, although the same
fellow was in the habit of washing my feet, and kissing them afterward,
every evening, and would, if sober, have no more thought of seating
himself, even on the ground, in my presence, than of jumping over the
moon.
“With his fellow-servants, too, he acted similarly; for though he
knew them all, and their characters and positions, he addressed them
as his servants, ordering them about, and upbraiding them for sundry
peccadilloes which they had doubtless committed, and which thus came
to my knowledge. In fact, in every point he acted to perfection the
manners and language of a great man; and so often have I seen the same
mimicry, that it has led me to believe that the chief mental employment
of the lowest fellow in the country is building castles in the air, and
practising to himself how he would act, and what he would say, if he
were a great man.”
The law of debt is a very severe one. The debtor is thrown into prison,
and chained to the wall by the wrist. The ring that encloses the wrist
is a broad hoop or bracelet of iron, which is forced asunder far enough
to permit the hand to enter, and is then hammered together tightly
enough to prevent the hand from being withdrawn. After a while, if the
sum be not paid, the bracelet is hammered a little tighter; and so the
creditor continues to tighten the iron until it is driven into the
flesh, the course of the blood checked, and the hand finally destroyed
by mortification.
Should the Government be the creditor for unpaid tribute, a company of
soldiers is quartered on the debtor, and he is obliged to feed them
with the best of everything under pain of brutal ill-treatment. Of
course this mode of enforcing payment often has the opposite effect,
and, when a heavy tax has been proclaimed in a district, the people run
away _en masse_ from the villages. In such a case the headman of the
village is responsible for the entire amount, and sometimes is obliged
to make his escape with as much portable property as he can manage to
carry off.
* * * * *
When rightly managed, the Abyssinians are a hospitable people. Some
travellers take a soldier with them, and demand food and lodging. These
of course are given, through fear, but without a welcome. The right
mode is, that when a traveller comes to a village, he sits under a
tree, and waits. The villagers soon gather round him, question him,
and make remarks on his appearance with perfect candor. After he has
undergone this ordeal, some one is sure to ask him to his house, and,
should he happen to be a person of distinction, one of the chief men is
certain to be his host.
When Mr. Parkyns was residing in Abyssinia, he always adopted this
plan. On one occasion the headman invited him to his house, and treated
him most hospitably, apologizing for the want of better food on the
ground that he had lately been made liable for the tribute of a number
of persons who had run away, and was consequently much reduced in the
world. It proved that sixteen householders had escaped to avoid the
tax, and that the unfortunate man had to pay the whole of it, amounting
to a sum which forced him to sell his horse, mule, and nearly all his
plough oxen, and, even when he was entertaining his visitor, he was in
dread lest the soldiers should be quartered on him.
The question of hospitality naturally leads us to the cooking and
mode of eating as practised in Abyssinia, about which so many strange
stories have been told. We have all heard of Bruce’s account of the
eating of raw meat cut from the limbs of a living bullock, and of the
storm of derision which was raised by the tale. We will see how far he
was borne out by facts.
The “staff of life” is prepared in Abyssinia much after the same
fashion as in other parts of Africa, the grain being ground between
two stones, and then made into a sort of very thin paste, about the
consistency of gruel. This paste is allowed to remain in a jar for a
day and night in order to become sour, and is then taken to the oven.
This is a very curious article, being a slab of earthenware in which
a concave hollow is made, and furnished with a small cover of the
same material. A fire is made beneath the oven, or “magogo,” as it is
termed, and when it is hot the baker, who is always a woman, proceeds
to work.
She first rubs the hollow with an oily seed in order to prevent the
bread from adhering to it, and then with a gourd ladle takes some of
the thin dough from the jar. The gourd holds exactly enough to make one
loaf, or rather cake. With a rapid movement the woman spreads the dough
over the entire hollow, and then puts on the cover. In two or three
minutes it is removed, and the bread is peeled off in one flat circular
piece, some eighteen inches in width, and about the eighth of an inch
in thickness. This bread, called “teff,” is the ordinary diet of an
Abyssinian. It is very sour, very soft, and very spongy, and requires
an experienced palate to appreciate it. There are several other kinds
of bread, but the teff is that which is most valued.
As to the meat diet of the Abyssinians, it may be roughly divided into
cooked and uncooked meat. Cooked meat is usually prepared from the
least valued parts of the animal. It is cut up into little pieces,
and stewed in a pot together with other ingredients, a considerable
quantity of butter, and such an amount of capsicum pods that the whole
mess is of a light red color, and a drop of it leaves a red stain
on any garment on which it may happen to fall. This paste is called
“dillikh,” and is made by grinding together a quantity of capsicum pods
and an equal amount of onions, to which are added ginger, salt, black
pepper, and other herbs, according to the taste of the preparer. The
poorer class, who cannot afford meat, can still make dillikh paste, and
live almost entirely on teff, clotted milk, and dillikh.
But the great treat for an Abyssinian epicure is the “broundo,” or raw
meat, about which he is as fastidious as the European _bon vivant_
about his sauces and ragouts. Not an Abyssinian will eat any animal
which has incisor teeth in its upper jaw, and, like the Jews, they even
reject the camel, because it has not a cloven hoof.
According to the account given by Bruce, when a dinner party is
assembled, a cow is brought to the door of the house, bound, flung
down, and a few drops of its blood poured on the ground in order to
save the letter of the Mosaic law. The butchers then cut large strips
of meat from the poor beast, taking care to avoid the vital parts and
larger vessels, and managing so as to remove the flesh without much
effusion of blood.
The still warm flesh is taken within the house, where it is sliced into
strips by the men, and handed to the women who sit by their side. The
women cut it up into small squares, lay it on the “teff” bread, season
it plentifully with the dillikh paste, roll it up into balls, and push
the balls into the mouth of their companion, who eats until he is
satisfied, and then reciprocates the attention by making up a couple
of similar balls, and putting them into the mouths of the women. (See
page 643.) Mead and tedge are then consumed as largely as the meat,
and, according to Bruce, a scene of the most abominable licentiousness
accompanies the conclusion of the festival.
These statements have been much controverted, but there is no doubt
that, in the main, the narrative of Bruce was a truthful one. Many
of the facts of which he wrote have since been corroborated, while
the changes to which Abyssinia has been subjected will account for
unimportant variations. Later travellers, for example, have not
witnessed such a scene as has been narrated by Bruce, but that is no
reason why such a scene should not have occurred. The most important
part of it, namely, the eating of raw flesh, has been repeatedly
corroborated, especially by Mansfield Parkyns, who lived so long with
the Abyssinians, dressed like them, fed like them, and accommodated
himself in most respects to their mode of life.
He found that meat was always, if possible, eaten in the raw state,
only the inferior qualities being made fit for consumption by cookery.
His description of the mode of eating tallies exactly with that of
Bruce. The meat is always brought to the consumer while still warm and
quivering with life, as it becomes tough and stringy when suffered
to become cold. Each guest is furnished with plenty of teff and the
invariable pepper sauce. His fingers take the place of a fork, and
his sword, or shotel, does duty for a knife. Holding the broundo in
his left hand, he takes into his capacious mouth as much as it can
accommodate, and then, with an adroit upward stroke of the sword,
severs the piece of meat, and just contrives to avoid cutting off his
nose. He alternates the pieces of meat with teff and dillikh, and, when
he has finished, refreshes himself copiously with drink.
Such food as this appears to be indescribably disgusting, and very
unfit for a nation that prides itself on its Christianity. Many
persons, indeed, have said that no one _could_ eat raw meat except when
pressed by starvation, and have therefore discredited all accounts of
the practice.
Perhaps my readers may remember that after Bruce’s return a gentleman
was making very merry with this account in the traveller’s presence,
treating the whole story as a fabrication, on the ground that to eat
raw meat was impossible. Bruce said nothing, but quietly left the room,
and presently returned with a piece of beef rolled and peppered after
the Abyssinian fashion, and gave his astonished opponent the choice of
eating the meat or fighting him on the spot. As Bruce was of gigantic
strength and stature, and an accomplished swordsman to boot, the meat
was eaten, and the fact proved to be possible.
Mr. Parkyns, who, when in Abyssinia, very wisely did as the Abyssinians
do, found that he soon became accustomed to the taste of raw meat, and
learned how to prefer one part of an animal to another. He discovered
that a very good imitation of an oyster could be made by chopping up
a sheep’s liver very fine, and seasoning it with pepper, vinegar, and
a little salt, provided that the consumer shut his eyes while eating
it. He even learned to appreciate a dish called chogera, which seems
to be about the very acme of abomination. It consists of the liver and
stomach chopped up fine, mixed with a little of the half-digested grass
found in the stomach, flavored with the contents of the gall bladder,
plentifully seasoned with pepper, salt, and onions, and eaten uncooked.
An Abyssinian’s digestion is marvellous, and almost rivals that of a
pike, which will digest half of a fish in its stomach while the other
half is protruding from its mouth. He will go to any number of feasts
in a day, and bring a fine fresh appetite to each of them, consuming at
a meal a quantity that would suffice seven or eight hungry Englishmen.
Mr. Parkyns once gave a breakfast to fourteen guests, thinking that, as
they were engaged for three or four other feasts on the same day, they
would perhaps eat but little.
Keeping up, however, the old hospitable customs, he killed a cow and
two fat sheep, and provided many gallons of mead and an infinite
quantity of “teff.” To his astonishment, the whole of this enormous
supply vanished, as he says, “like smoke,” before his guests, who left
scarcely a scrap for their servants. And, after this feast, the whole
of the party proceeded to another house, where they were treated in a
similarly liberal manner, and employed the day in a series of four or
five such banquets.
The Abyssinians are very fastidious respecting the part of the animal
from which the broundo is cut, and have a vast number of names to
express the different qualities of meat. The most valued portion is
the hump of the shoulder, the first cut of which is always given to
the man of the highest rank. Consequently, when several men of nearly
equal rank meet, a polite controversy is carried on for some time, each
offering the cut of honor to his neighbor.
On one occasion this piece of etiquette produced fatal results. Several
Amhara chiefs were present, together with one Tigréan. The latter, in
order to assert the superiority of his own province, drew his sword
and helped himself to the first cut, whereupon he was immediately
challenged by two Amhara warriors. He accepted the challenge, fought
them both, killed them both, and so vindicated the course which he had
taken.
The quantity which an Abyssinian will eat when he gets the chance must
be seen to be appreciated. See for example Mr. Parkyns’ account of a
feast at an Abyssinian wedding:--
“The Abyssinian guests were squatted round the tables in long rows,
feeding as if their lives depended on the quantity they could devour,
and washing it down with floods of drink. I never could have believed
that any people could take so much food, and certainly, if the reader
wishes to see a curious exhibition in the feeding line, he has only to
run over to Abyssinia, and be present at a wedding-feast.
“Imagine two or three hundred half-naked men and women all in one room,
eating and drinking in the way I have described in a former chapter,
but with this difference--that the private party is well ordered and
arranged, while the public ‘hang-out’ is a scene of the most terrible
confusion. Here all decorum is lost sight of; and you see the waiters,
each with a huge piece of raw beef in his hands, rushing frantically to
and fro in his desire to satisfy the voracious appetites of the guests,
who, as he comes within their reach, grasp the meat, and with their
long crooked swords hack off a lump or strip, as the case may be, in
their eagerness not to lose their share.
“One man was reported on this occasion to have eaten ‘tallak’ and
‘tamash’ of raw beef (each weighing from four to five pounds) and seven
cakes of bread, and to have drunk twenty-six pints of beer and ‘tedge.’
From what I saw I can believe a good deal, but this appears rather a
‘stretcher.’
“We of the Frank sect were presented with our share of the ‘broundo;’
but as our thoughtful host had informed us that a dinner, cooked by his
own hands in the Turkish style, was awaiting us in an inner apartment,
we merely, for formality’s sake, tasted the offered delicacies, and
then handed them over to our servants, who, standing behind us, were
ready enough to make away with them. The silversmith Michael, before
coming to the feast, had, it would appear, been pouring a tolerably
copious libation to some god or other, for he was considerably
elevated, and, being anxious to show off, commenced eating in the
Abyssinian fashion, nor did he stop until he had cut a large gash in
his nose.”
The hands are always carefully washed both before and after a meal.
Just before the feast is over, the servants come round with baskets to
the guests, each of whom places in the basket a portion of his food. As
to the little boys, they crawl about under the tables, and among the
legs of the guests, and are always ready for any fragments that may be
accidentally dropped or intentionally given to them.
The beer, or “tedge,” and mead, which have been mentioned, are favorite
drinks among the Abyssinians. The former is very thick and gruel-like,
and to a European is very repulsive. The latter, however, is tolerably
good, and is kept carefully in large jars. The mouth of each jar is
covered with a piece of cotton cloth drawn tightly over it. This is not
removed when the mead is poured out, and acts as a strainer.
CHAPTER LXVI.
ABYSSINIA--_Concluded_.
BIRTH, LIFE, AND DEATH OF THE ABYSSINIANS -- CEREMONIES AT BIRTH --
THE CIRCUMCISION AND BAPTISM -- CARE AS TO THE EXACT DATE OF EACH
RITE -- MARRIAGE, CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS, AND THEIR DIFFERENT CHARACTERS
-- THE CIVIL MARRIAGE AND ITS ATTENDANT CEREMONIES -- DEATH AND
FUNERAL -- SHAPE OF THE GRAVE -- THE HIRED MOURNERS -- THE SUCCESSIVE
COMMEMORATIONS OF THE DEAD -- RAISING THE HAI-HO -- THE RELIGION
OF ABYSSINIA -- FASTING AND FEASTING BOTH CARRIED TO EXTREMES --
ST. JOHN’S DAY AND THE ANNUAL WASHING -- FRIENDLY SKIRMISHES --
ABYSSINIAN CHURCHES -- THE SANCTUARY AND THE ARK -- THE ARK IN BATTLE
-- IGNORANCE OF THE PRIESTHOOD -- THE BIBLE A SEALED BOOK TO PRIESTS
AND LAYMEN -- LIFE OF A SAINT -- SUPERSTITION -- TRANSFORMATION
-- THE BOUDA AND THE TIGRITIYA -- EXAMPLES SEEN BY MR. PARKYNS --
ABYSSINIAN ARCHITECTURE.
We will now cursorily glance at the life of an Abyssinian from his
birth to his funeral.
As soon as the birth of a child is expected, all the men leave the
house, as they would be considered as polluted if they were under the
same roof, and would not be allowed to enter a church for forty days.
The women take immediate charge of the new comer, wash and perfume it,
and mould its little features in order to make them handsome. Should it
be a boy, it is held up to the window until a warrior thrusts a lance
into the room and pokes it into the child’s mouth, this ceremony being
supposed to make it courageous. The throat of a fowl is then cut in
front of the child, and the women utter their joy-cries--twelve times
for a boy and three times for a girl. They then rush tumultuously out
of the house, and try to catch the men. If they succeed, they hustle
their captives about, and force them to ransom themselves by a jar of
mead, or some such present.
Next come the religious ceremonies; and it is not the least curious
point in the religious system of the Abyssinians that they have
retained the Jewish rite, to which they superadded Christian baptism.
Eight days after birth the child is circumcised, twenty days afterward
the priests enter the house, and perform a purification service which
restores it to general use, and forty days afterward the baptism
takes place, should the child be a boy, and eighty days if a girl. A
plaited cord of red, blue, and white silk is then placed round the
child’s neck, as a token that it has been baptized, which is afterward
exchanged for the blue cord, or “match,” worn by all Christian
Abyssinians. There is a curious law that, if either of the sponsors
should die without issue, his godchild becomes the heir to his property.
The priests are very particular about the date of the baptism. They
believe that Adam and Eve did not receive the spirit of life until they
had been created forty and eighty days. Should the father miscalculate
the date, he would be sentenced to a year’s fasting; while the priest
is liable to a similar penalty if he should happen to assign the wrong
day.
As to their marriages, the Abyssinians manage them very easily. As soon
as betrothal takes place, which is mostly at a very early age, the
couple are not allowed to see each other, even though they may have
enjoyed the greatest liberty beforehand. So rigidly is this practice
carried out in Tigré, that the bride never leaves her father’s house
until her marriage, believing that if she did so she would be bitten by
a snake.
Just before the wedding-day, a “dass,” or marquee, is built of stakes
and reeds for the reception of the wedding-party, in which the
marriage-feast is prepared. Certain distinguished guests have special
places reserved for them; but any one is at liberty to enter and eat
to his heart’s content. A scene of great turmoil always occurs on these
occasions, a crowd of men who have already been fed trying to gain
re-admission, whilst another crowd of hungry applicants is fighting and
pushing toward the entrance. Order is kept to some extent by a number
of young men who volunteer their services, and are allowed to exercise
their office as they think best, hitting about at the crowd, and no man
returning their blows. As soon as one batch of guests have eaten as
much as they can be expected to consume, the door-keepers turn them out
by main force and admit a fresh batch.
After the feast, the bride is carried in upon a man’s back, and put
down, like a sack of coals, on a stool. Music and dancing then take
place, while the bridegroom, attended by his groomsmen, or “arkees,”
is proceeding to the house, accompanied by his friends, and preceded
by music. When he arrives, the marriage--which is a civil rather than
a religious ceremony--takes place, an address being delivered to the
married couple by a priest, should one happen to be present; if not, by
an elder; and the actual ceremony is at an end.
The arkees have a number of curious offices to perform, among which is
the custom of collecting gifts for the newly-married couple, begging
with songs and drum-beating before the houses. If nothing be given
them, they take whatever they wish; and, after a wedding the robberies
are countless, the arkees being privileged persons during their term
of office. They are even allowed to perjure themselves--a crime which
is held in the deepest abhorrence by all Abyssinian Christians. Should
a person from whom anything is stolen offer a present as a ransom, the
arkees are obliged to give up the stolen property; but should they have
taken fowls or any other edibles, there is no restitution possible, the
arkees taking care to have them cooked and eaten at once.
Such marriages, being merely civil ceremonies, are dissolved as easily
as they are made, the slightest pretext on either side being considered
as sufficient for the separation. Should there be children, the father
takes the boys, and the mother the girls, and each will probably marry
again almost immediately.
In consequence of this very easy arrangement, it often happens that,
in one family of children, two may be by one mother, two by another,
and one or two more by a third; and it is almost invariably the case
that the children of one father by different mothers hate each other
cordially, while the children of one mother by different fathers live
together in amity.
Besides these civil marriages, which are really no marriages at all,
there are ecclesiastical marriages, which are held to be indissoluble.
These, however, are very seldom contracted except between persons
who have been civilly married, and have found, after many years of
experience, that they cannot be better suited. They therefore go to the
church, are married by the priest, and receive the Communion together.
When an Abyssinian dies, the funeral takes place within a very short
time, the same day being preferred if possible. The death being
announced from the house-top by the relatives, and by messengers to the
neighboring villages, a grave is at once dug by volunteers. There are
no professional grave-diggers in Abyssinia, but, as the act of burying
the dead is considered as a meritorious one, plenty of assistance
is always found. The body is then placed on a couch and carried to
the grave, the whole of the Psalter being repeated as the procession
makes its way. Six halts are made during the progress of the body to
the church, at each of which incense is burned over it, and certain
portions of the Scriptures are read, or rather gabbled, as fast as the
words can be repeated. In order to save time, each priest or scribe who
is present has a certain portion assigned to him, and they all read at
once, so that not a word can be caught by the mourners. These, however,
are making such a noise on their own account that they do not trouble
themselves about hearing the Scriptures.
The bearers of the corpse manage so that their seventh halt is made at
the church gate. Here more portions of Scripture are read in the same
time-saving fashion, while the body is wrapped in a cloth made of palm
leaves, this being emblematical of the palms thrown before our Lord on
his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. When the grave is ready, the priest
descends into it and censes it, after which the body is lowered and the
earth filled in.
In consequence of the rapidity with which burial follows death, the
mourning ceremonies are postponed for three days, so as to give time
for assembling the mourners, and making the corresponding preparations.
On that day the mourners proceed to a spot near the church, on which is
placed a couch containing a rude figure of a human being, supposed to
represent the deceased person. The relations appear with their heads
shaven like those of the priests, and among the Tigréans they rub
their foreheads and temples with the borders of their robes until they
take off the skin, and produce sores which often occupy many weeks in
healing. Mostly the injury is so great, that when the skin is renewed
it is blacker than the rest of the body, and remains so during life,
giving to the face a very singular expression. The Amharas do not
employ this mode of showing their grief.
Each of the mourners then advances, and pronounces a sort of eulogy on
the deceased, generally uttering their panegyrics in a sort of rude
verse. In case, however, the relatives should not be good poets, a
number of professional mourners attend the funeral, some being hired,
but the greater number coming merely in hope of a fee and a share in
the funeral banquet which concludes the proceedings. According to Mr.
Parkyns, these people will give minute details of the history of the
dead man, his deeds, character, and even his property; and this to a
great length, thus: “O Gabron, son of Welda Mousa, grandson of Itta
Garra Raphael, &c. &c.; rider of the bay horse with white feet, and of
the grey ambling mule; owner of the Damascus barrel-gun, and bearer of
the silver-mounted shield, why have you left us?” &c., entering with
astonishing readiness into every particular of the deceased’s life
and actions. All the bystanders, at the end of each verse, break in
with a chorus of sobbing lamentations, adapted to a mournful chant,
“Moui! wai! wai! wailayay! wailay! wailayay!” &c., which has a pretty
plaintive sound, especially when, as is usually the case, a number of
soft female voices join in.
“The ‘ambilta’ and the ‘cundan’ keep time with them, and add not a
little to the effect. This continues until all the expected friends
have arrived, and had their fill of wailing; and about noon the whole
party retire to the house, where a cow is killed, and a quantity
of provisions provided for those who have come from a distance.
Everything, except the cow, is usually furnished by the neighbors, as
the mourners are supposed to be so overwhelmed with grief as to be
unable to attend to such preparations.”
The “ambilta,” which is mentioned above, is a musical instrument
composed of a set of six pipes, each performer having one pipe, and
each pipe only having one note. The “cundan melakhat” is made of four
long cane tubes, each having a bell, and a reed mouth-piece, like
that of a clarionet. They are played in succession like the ambilta,
and give forth very harsh and unpleasant notes. Both instruments
are generally accompanied by a small drum. Although the immediate
ceremonies of the funeral terminate with this feast, they are not
totally completed. Indeed, for a whole year, masses are said regularly
for forty days, and another mass is said on the eightieth day. A second
and larger edition of the funeral feast, called the “teskar,” is held
six months after the burial, and sometimes lasts for several days.
To this feast come all the poor, who claim for themselves the right of
being helped before any of the regular guests. They seat themselves
in the “dass,” and pour out loud invocations, until an official comes
round, and slightly taps each one on the head with a stick. The man who
has been thus signalled holds out his hands, and receives in them a
portion of meat rolled up in “teff” bread. When all have been served,
they hold the food under their mouths, and call, in a very loud voice,
“Hai... oh!” the last syllable being protracted until they have no more
breath.
“This “Hai... oh!” is thought to be a sort of benediction, and very few
would dare to omit it. Such an omission would be taken as a drawing
down of the maledictions of the poor, and would excite the greatest
contempt. If such a man were to quarrel, his opponent would be sure
to say to him, “Ah! you are the man who made no ‘Hai... oh!’ for his
brother.”
On the next day the priests and men of highest rank assemble, and day
by day the rank of the guests diminishes, until the seventh day is
contemptuously given to the women. Six months after the teskar another
feast, but of a larger kind, is held, and on every anniversary of the
funeral food is sent to the priests.
* * * * *
We now naturally come to the religion of the Abyssinians.
This is a kind of Christianity which consists chiefly in fasting, so
that an Abyssinian life oscillates between alternate severe fasts and
inordinate gluttony. The fasts of the Abyssinian Church occupy nearly
two-thirds of the year, and are measured in duration by the length of
the shadow. One fast, for example, must be kept until a man’s shadow
measures in length nine and a half of his own feet, another until it is
nine feet, and a third until it is ten feet long. And these fasts are
real ones, no food of any kind being taken until the prescribed time,
and no such modifications as fish, &c., being allowed to mitigate their
severity. During Good Friday and the following Saturday the clergy, and
all who have any pretensions to religion, fast for forty-eight hours;
and, altogether, including the Wednesdays and Fridays, two hundred and
sixty days of fasting occur in the year. During the long fasts, such as
that of Lent, which lasts for fifty-five days, the people are allowed
to eat on the mornings of Saturday and Sunday, but, even in that case,
meat in any form is strictly forbidden.
As soon as the lengthening shadow proclaims the end of the fast, the
feasting sets in, and during the season of Epiphany the whole night
is passed in a succession of eating, drinking, singing, dancing, and
praying, each being considered equally a religious duty. Then there is
a sort of game, much resembling our “hockey,” at which all the people
play, those from one district contending against those of another, much
as the Ashburne North and South football match used to be conducted on
Shrove Tuesday.
[Illustration: (1.) THE BATTLE FIELD. (See page 663.)]
[Illustration: (2.) INTERIOR OF AN ABYSSINIAN HOUSE. (See page 667.)]
St. John’s Day is a great feast among the Abyssinians, and has this
pre-eminence over the others, that all the people not only wash
themselves, but their clothes also. It is the only day when the
Abyssinians apply water externally, with the exception of washing the
hands before and after meals, and the feet alter a journey. In fact,
they consider that washing the body is a heathenish and altogether
un-Christian practice, only to be practised by the Mohammedans and such
like contemptible beings.
Between St. John’s Day and the feast of Mascal, or the Cross, the young
people of both sexes keep up a continual skirmishing. In the evening
they all leave their houses, the boys with bunches of nettles, and
the girls with gourds filled with all kinds of filth. When they meet,
they launch volleys of abuse at each other, the language being not the
most delicate in the world, and then proceed to active measures, the
girls flinging the contents of the gourds at the boys, while the latter
retaliate by nettling the girls about their naked shoulders.
The day on which the greatest ceremonials take place is the feast of
Mascal. On the eve of Mascal every one goes about with torches, first
carrying them over the houses, and peering into every crevice like the
Jews looking for leaven, and then sallying into the air. The play which
ensues mostly turns into a fight, which reminded Mr. Parkyns of the
town and gown rows at college, and which begin in the same way, _i.
e._ with the mischievous little boys. These begin at first to abuse
each other, and then to fight. Next, a man sees his son getting rather
roughly handled, drags him out of the fray, and pommels his antagonist.
The father of the latter comes to the rescue of his son, the friends
of each party join in the struggle, and a general fight takes place.
Mostly these contests are harmless, but, if the combatants have been
indulging too freely in drink, they are apt to resort to their weapons,
and to inflict fatal injuries.
During the night great fires of wood are built by the chiefs on the
highest hills near the towns, and set on fire before daybreak. Oxen
and sheep are then led three times round the fires, slaughtered, and
left to be eaten by the birds and beasts of prey. This is distinctly
a heathen custom, both the position of the altar and the mode of
sacrifice designating clearly the fire-worshipper. When, therefore, the
people awake in the morning after the fatigue and dissipation of the
night, they find the whole country illuminated with these hill-fires.
They then go to their several chiefs, and all the soldiers boast before
him of their prowess, some describing the feats which they have done
before the enemy, and others prophesying the feats that they intend
to do when they happen to meet an enemy. Gifts are mostly presented
at this time, and feasting goes on as usual; every chief, however
petty, slaughtering as many cows as he can afford, and almost every
householder killing at least one cow.
The churches of Abyssinia are not in the least like those edifices with
which we generally associate the name of church, being small, low,
flat-roofed, and, indeed, very much like the old Jewish tabernacle
transformed into a permanent building. Some of the more modern churches
are oblong or square, but the real ancient Abyssinian buildings are
circular, and exactly resemble the ordinary houses, except that
they are rather larger. They are divided into three compartments by
concentric walls. The space between the first and second wall is that
in which the laity stand, the priests alone having the privilege of
entering the holy place within the second wall.
In the very centre is a small compartment, sometimes square and
sometimes circular. This is the Most Holy Place, and contains the ark,
which is venerated almost as much by the Abyssinians as the ancient
ark was reverenced by the Jews. The ark is merely a wooden box, in
many churches being of extreme antiquity, and within it is placed the
Decalogue. Over the ark is a canopy of silk or chintz, and around it
are a vast number of silken and cotton rags. They even fancy that the
original ark of the Jews is deposited within a rock-shrine in Abyssinia.
The Abyssinians also follow the old Jewish custom of taking their
sacred shrine into battle.
In an illustration on page 662, which represents a battle between the
Abyssinians and Gallas, is seen the king, shaded with his umbrellas,
giving orders to a mounted chief, whose ornamented shield and silver
coronal denote his rank. In the distance may be seen villages on
fire, while on the right an attack is being made on one of the lofty
strongholds in which the people love to entrench themselves. Several
dead Gallas are seen in the foreground, and in front of the king are
some of the fallen prisoners begging for mercy. In the right-hand
corner of the illustration is seen a conical object on the back of a
mule. This is one of their shrines, which accompanies them as the ark
used to accompany the Israelites to battle. The shrine mostly contains
either a Bible or the relics of some favorite saint, and the covering
of the mule is always of scarlet cloth. Two priests, with their white
robes and turbans, are seen guarding the mule.
Paintings of the rudest possible description decorate the walls of the
church, and are looked upon with the greatest awe, though they are
no better in execution than the handiwork of a child of six. Their
subjects are generally the Crucifixion and conventional portraits of
saints, St. George being, perhaps, the greatest favorite, and having
the most numerous representations.
The priesthood are, as may be imagined, no very good examples either
of piety or letters. Some of them, but by no means all, can read; and
even of those who do possess this accomplishment, very few trouble
themselves to understand what they read, but gabble the words in parrot
fashion, without producing the least impression on the brain.
Such being the education of the teachers, that of the taught may
be inferred; in fact, no Abyssinian layman can read. The late King
Theodore was a brilliant exception to this general rule; but then it
must be remembered that he had passed several years in a monastery,
and had partaken of the same educational privileges as those who were
intended for the priesthood. Consequently, the Bible is a sealed book
to all the laity and to a very large proportion of the priests, and the
lives of the saints, and the various written charms which they purchase
so freely, are by the Abyssinians valued far above the sacred volume
itself.
As moreover the scribes, who are the most educated men in the country,
gain their living by writing copies of the Bible, of the lives of the
saints, and by writing charms, it is their interest to keep the people
in ignorance, even though the laity were to manifest any desire to
think for themselves. As, however, thinking is far too troublesome
a process for them, they very contentedly leave all their religious
matters in the hands of their clergy. Each man to his own business, say
they--the warriors to fight, the priests to pray.
As for these lives of the saints, they are a collection of the most
marvellous tales, often ludicrous and puerile, mostly blasphemous
according to our ideas on the subject, but sometimes highly poetic
and even touching the sublime. There is one tale of St. Gabro Memfus
Kouddos, _i. e._ Slave of the Holy Spirit, which contrives to comprise
in itself all these elements. He was born a saint, stood up and
repeated the threefold invocation three days after his birth, and was
so very holy that for his entire life he took no nourishment of any
kind. Once he fell over a precipice three hundred feet deep, and when
the angels spread their wings under him he declined their assistance,
giving his reasons at such length that the fall must have been a very
slow one. The apparently blasphemous portions of his life I omit, and
proceed to the end of it.
He _would_ go on living for such an unconscionable time that at last
the angel of death was sent personally to fetch him. The saint,
however, declined the invitation, and logically argued that, as he had
neither eaten nor drunk, his body did not belong to earth, therefore
could not be restored to earth, and that, on the whole, any change must
be for the worse. All the previous saints came and tried to persuade
him, and at last he found himself obliged to die. But then there was
a great controversy as to the destination of his body. Air, of course,
would not take it; and as the saint had never eaten nor drunk nor used
a fire, neither of the elements could receive his body; and so he was
again restored to it, and, still living, was taken up to heaven. Any of
our readers who have perused the Talmud will remember a similar legend,
which is doubtless the origin of the above-mentioned story.
This being a sample, and a very mild one, of the religion of the
Abyssinians, we may easily imagine what must be their superstitions.
These are of the genuine African cast, and have survived with
undiminished strength in spite of the system of Christianity which has
so long existed in Abyssinia.
The people fully believe in the power of transformation. There is a
sort of demon, called Bouda, who possesses this power, and is supposed
to be the special demon of blacksmiths. Now in Abyssinia the trade of
blacksmith is hereditary, and is considered a disgraceful one, all
smiths being looked upon as sorcerers. This idea has evidently taken
its rise from times of great antiquity, when the power of smelting,
forging, and welding iron was thought to be too wonderful to be
possessed by ordinary human beings.
Mr. Parkyns narrates several instances of this belief in
transformation. He knew, for example, of two little girls who had
been in the forest to gather wood, and came back in a great fright.
They had met a blacksmith, and had begun to jeer at him for a wizard,
asking him as a proof of his power to turn himself into a hyæna. The
man took them at their word, untied a corner of his robe, took out some
ashes, and sprinkled them over his shoulders. Immediately his head
changed into that of a hyæna, hair spread itself over his body, and,
before they could recover from the terror which paralyzed them, the now
complete hyæna grinned and laughed at them, and then trotted into the
neighboring bush.
Another story curiously resembles some of the transformation tales of
the Arabian Nights. Two Bouda brothers used to make a good living by
their powers of transformation. One of them would change himself into
a horse, mule, or some other valuable animal, and was then sold by his
brother. In the middle of the night the transformed man resumed his
human shape, and walked home to join his brother. This went on for
some time, but at last no one would buy from them, as they kept no
stock. No one knew where they obtained the animals which they sold,
and, moreover, no one liked to buy animals which had a knack of always
escaping before twenty-four hours. At last one man determined to solve
the mystery. One of the Bouda brothers offered for sale a peculiarly
handsome horse. The man bought it, and as soon as he got the animal
out of the town, he drove his lance through its heart, and killed it on
the spot.
He then threw himself in the way of the seller, and uttered loud
lamentations over his hasty temper, which had caused him to kill so
splendid an animal. The Bouda contrived to hide his emotion until
he reached his home, and then began the usual lamentations for the
dead, rubbing the skin off his temples and wailing loudly. On being
questioned, he said that he was mourning the death of his brother,
who had been robbed and murdered by the Gallas, from whom he had been
buying horses for sale.
It seems also that the Boudas can transform other persons into animals,
even without their consent. A woman had died, and, immediately after
the funeral, a blacksmith came to the priest in charge of the cemetery,
and bribed him to give up the newly-buried corpse. This was done,
and the neighbors all remarked that the blacksmith had purchased
a remarkably fine donkey, on which he always rode. There was this
peculiarity about the animal, that it always wanted to run into the
house where the dead woman had lived, and whenever it met any of the
young people brayed loudly, and ran toward them.
The eldest son being a very intelligent young man, suddenly declared
that the animal in question must be his mother, and insisted on
bringing the ass and its rider into the hut. Here the animal seemed
quite at home: and the smith was charged with being a Bouda, and with
changing the body of the woman into an ass. At first he repudiated
the assertion, but at last, by dint of mingled threats and promises,
he confessed that he had indeed wrought the change. The woman was not
dead, but was only in a trance into which he had thrown her, and could
be restored to her own form again. Being promised forgiveness, he began
his incantations, when the ass gradually threw off the furry coat and
assumed the human form. The transformation was nearly complete, when
one of the sons, in a sudden access of fury, drove his spear through
the blacksmith and stopped the transformation, so that ever afterward
the woman had one human foot and one ass’s hoof. Many persons told Mr.
Parkyns that they had actually seen the hoof in question.
The Bouda exhibits his power in various modes, one of which is a
kind of possession, in which the afflicted person is, as it were,
semi-demoniacal, and performs feats which are utterly impossible to
the human body in the normal condition. Men and women are alike seized
with the Bouda madness, although the females are naturally more liable
to its attacks than the men, generally accounting for the fact by
stating that they have rejected the love of some Bouda or other. The
chief object of the Bouda seems to be to lay a spell on the afflicted
persons which will cause them to come at his call. Consequently, he
assumes the shape of the hyæna, calls the victims at night, and, if
they are not bound and carefully watched, they are forced to go to the
hyæna, and are then devoured.
A remarkable example of this Bouda illness was watched by Mr. Parkyns
with the greatest care. The afflicted person was a servant woman of
Rohabaita. The complaint began by languor and headache, and then
changed into an ordinary fit of hysterics, together with great pain.
“It was at this stage that the other servants began to suspect that
she was under the influence of the Bouda. In a short time she became
quiet, and by degrees sank into a state of lethargy, approaching to
insensibility. Either from excellent acting and great fortitude, or
from real want of feeling, the various experiments which were made
on her seemed to have no more effect than they would have had on a
mesmeric somnambulist. We pinched her repeatedly; but, pinch as hard as
we could, she never moved a muscle of her face, nor did she otherwise
express the least sensation. I held a bottle of strong sal-volatile
under her nose, and stopped her mouth; and this having no effect, I
steeped some rag in it, and placed it in her nostrils; but, although I
would wager any amount that she had never either seen, smelt, or heard
of such a preparation as liquid ammonia, it had no more effect on her
than rosewater.
“She held her thumbs tightly inside her hands, as if to prevent their
being seen. On my observing this to a bystander, he told me that the
thumbs were the Bouda’s particular perquisite, and that he would allow
no person to take them. Consequently, several persons tried to open
her hands and get at them; but she resisted with what appeared to me
wonderful strength for a girl, and bit their fingers till in more than
one instance she drew blood. I, among others, made the attempt, and,
though I got a bite or two for my pains, yet either the devil had great
respect for me as an Englishman and a good Christian, or she had for
me as her master, for the biting was all a sham, and struck me as more
like kissing than anything else, compared with the fearful wounds she
had indicted on the rest of the party.
“I had a string of ornamental amulets which I usually wore, having on
it many charms for various maladies; but I was perfectly aware that
none for the Bouda was among them. Still, hoping thereby to expose the
cheat, I asserted that there was a very celebrated one, and laid the
whole string on her face, expecting that she would pretend to feel the
effects, and act accordingly; but, to my surprise and disappointment,
she remained quite motionless. Several persons had been round the
village to look for some talisman, but only one was found. On its being
applied to her mouth she for an instant sprang up, bit at it, and tore
it, but then laughed, and said it was weak, and would not vex _him_.
“I here use the masculine gender, because, although the patient was
a woman, the Bouda is supposed to speak through her medium; and, of
whatever sex they be, the sufferers, or rather the spirits, when
speaking of themselves, invariably use that gender. I deluged her with
bucketfuls of water, but could not either elicit from her a start or a
pant, an effect usually produced by water suddenly dashed over a person.
“At night she could not sleep, but became more restless, and spoke
several times. She even remarked, in her natural tone of voice, that
she was not ill, nor attacked by the Bouda, but merely wished to return
to Adoun. She said this so naturally that I was completely taken off my
guard, and told her that of course she might go, but that she must wait
till the morrow. The other people smiled, and whispered to me that it
was only a device of the Bouda to get her out into the forest, and then
devour her.”
By one of those curious coincidences that sometimes occur, a hyæna,
who, according to the popular ideas was the transformed Bouda, was
heard hooting and laughing close to the village for the whole of the
night, that being the only time that Mr. Parkyns had known the animal
do so during the whole of his stay at Rohabaita. In consequence of
the presence of the animal, the young woman was tightly bound, and
sentinels were placed within and without the door of the hut. Whenever
the hyæna called, the woman moaned and started up, and once, after she
had been quiet for nearly an hour, and the inner sentinel had dropped
off to sleep, the hyæna came close to the hut, and the woman rose,
_without her bonds_, crept on all-fours to the door, and had partly
succeeded in opening it when one of the sentinels made a noise, and she
went back to her place. In this way she was kept under the strictest
watch for three days, during which time she would neither eat nor
drink, rejecting even a small piece of bread when she had swallowed it,
and on the third evening she mended and gradually recovered.
If this were imposture, as Mr. Parkyns remarks, it is difficult to
find a motive. She had scarcely any work to do, and the wonder is what
could make her voluntarily prefer three days confinement, with pinches,
cords, cold water, and other ill-treatment--not to mention that
severest of all punishments to an Abyssinian, total abstinence from
food and drink.
According to the people, this enchantment is caused by a Bouda, who
has learned the baptismal name of the affected person. This is always
concealed, and the Abyssinians are only known by a sort of nickname,
which is given by the mother as they leave the church. When, however,
a Bouda learns the baptismal name, he takes a straw, bends it into a
circle, mutters charms over it, and puts it under a stone. As the straw
is bent, the illness begins; and should it break, the victim dies.
Charms of certain kinds have a potent effect on the Bouda. On one
occasion a poor weakly girl was lying apparently senseless, on whom Mr.
Parkyns had uselessly tried, by the application of false charms, to
produce an effect. Suddenly the woman flew into violent convulsions,
screaming and struggling so that four strong men could scarcely hold
her. Just then an Amhara soldier entered the outer court, and she cried
out, “Let me alone and I will speak.” This man, it appeared, had heard
that a patient was ill of the Bouda, and had brought with him a charm
of known power.
After much threatening with the amulet, accompanied by fierce and
frantic rage on the part of the possessed, the Bouda promised to come
out if food were given him. It is remarkable by the way, that the Bouda
is always of the male sex, and, whether the possessed be a man or a
woman, always uses the masculine gender in language. The rest must be
told in Mr. Parkyns’ own words:--
“A basin was fetched, in which was put a quantity of any filth that
could be found (of fowls, dogs, &c.), and mixed up with a little
water and some ashes. I took the basin myself, and hid it where I was
positive that she could not see me place it, and covered it up with
some loose stones which were heaped in the corner. The Bouda was then
told that his supper was prepared, and the woman rose and walked down
the court on all-fours, smelling like a dog on either side, until,
passing into the yard where the basin was, she went straight up to it,
and, pulling it out from the place where it was hidden, devoured its
abominable contents with the utmost greediness. The Bouda was then
supposed to leave her, and she fell to the ground, as if fainting. From
this state she recovered her health in a few days.”
A somewhat similar sort of possession is called Tigritiya. In this case
the patient falls into a sort of wasting away, without apparent cause,
and at last sits for several days together without eating or speaking.
Music is the only means of curing a patient, who will then spring from
the couch on which he has lain, apparently without strength to sit
up, and will dance with the most violent contortions, keeping up the
exercise with a vigor and pertinacity that would tire the strongest
man in perfect health. This is a sign that the demon may be driven
out; and when the music ceases, the patient falls to the ground, and
then begins to speak (always in the person of the demon), demanding
all kinds of ornaments--sometimes, even if a poor woman, asking for
the velvet robes and silver-mounted weapons of a chief. These cannot
be obtained without much expense, but at last are procured, when the
dancing is resumed, and, after several accessions of the fit, the
patient takes off all the borrowed ornaments, and runs at full speed
until the demon suddenly departs, and the possessed person loses all
the fictitious strength that had animated him, and falls to the earth
in a swoon. The demon takes his leave, and is deterred from returning
by the firing of guns, and a guard with drawn swords that surrounds the
prostrate form of the moaning patient.
* * * * *
The architecture of the Abyssinians is simple, but characteristic.
Houses differ in form according to the means of their owner, those of
the commonalty being merely circular huts, while those of the wealthy
are square and flat-roofed.
A rich man’s house is rather a complicated piece of architecture. It
stands in an enclosure, like an Indian compound, and the principal
gateway is covered and flanked on either side by a porter’s lodge,
in which sleep the actual gate-keeper and other servants. Within the
enclosure are generally a few slight huts of straw, for the reception
of strangers or servants. About one-fourth of the compound is divided
by a wall, and contains the kitchen, store-houses, &c. At the end
opposite the gateway is the Adderash, or reception room, which is
square or oblong, and often of considerable size. The roof is flat; but
when the room is too large to be crossed by beams, only the angles are
roofed in the ordinary way, so as to leave an octagonal opening in the
centre. A wooden wall about four or five feet high is next built round
the opening, and there is then no difficulty in roofing it.
The Adderash is divided into three rooms, the largest of which is the
reception room. At the end is the stable, the horses and mules passing
into it through the reception room. The “medeb,” or bed-room (if it may
be so called), is merely a strip of the apartment, about eight feet
wide, separated by a partition wall; and if the owner of the house
should be a married man, the entrance of the medeb is closed by a
curtain. This apartment takes its name from the medeb, or divan, which
is simply a part of the floor raised a foot or so above the rest, about
five feet in width, and extending for the whole length of the room.
Opposite the medeb is a small alcove, in which is placed the couch
of the master of the house. This couch, or “arat,” is a stout wooden
framework, across which is stretched a network of raw hide thongs, an
inch or two in width. These contract when drying, and form a tolerably
elastic bed.
In warm weather the arat is placed out of doors, and is only covered
with a slight cloth roof. One of these outdoor beds may be seen in the
illustration No. 2, on page 662.
The door of the reception room is covered with grass, just as in the
olden times even palace floors were strewn with rushes. Whenever a
visitor enters, fresh grass is strewn to make a clean seat for him, but
no one thinks of removing that which already has become discolored.
Consequently, what with the continual washing of hands by pouring water
over them, the spilling of beer and mead, and the mud that clings to
the horses’ feet as they pass to and from their stable, the flooring of
the house becomes nothing more or less than a fermenting manure-heap.
At last, when even the Abyssinian nose can endure it no longer, the
room is cleared, and left empty for a day or two in order to rid it of
the intolerable odor which still clings to it.
Round the walls of the reception room are a number of cows’
horns by way of pegs, on which are hung the spears, shields,
horse-accoutrements, drinking-horns, and other property of the owner.
The store-houses contain huge earthenware jugs, the mouths of which
nearly reach the roof of the house, though their bases are sunk a yard
or so in the ground. The Abyssinians value these jars highly, inasmuch
as they are evidences of wealth.
* * * * *
As to the other two provinces, Shoa and Amhara, there is so little
difference between them and Tigré that there is no need to occupy space
with them. Practically they form one kingdom, just as England, Wales,
Scotland, and Ireland, and there is among them a very strong provincial
jealousy, analogous to that which still prevails among the uneducated
members of our own United Kingdom. Even Mr. Parkyns could not resist
the feeling, and was a strenuous admirer of Tigré, considering the
Amharas as ferocious and overbearing boors, and despising the Shoas
altogether.
The province of Shoa, however, is by no means a despicable one, as may
be seen from the following description of the great annual feast which
is given by the king or prince at Easter. This hospitable banquet is on
a truly royal scale, and is continued for a whole week, so that every
free man who can attend the capital may have an opportunity of taking
part in it.
The banqueting room is a very large and lofty chamber, having on one
side a curtained alcove, in which the prince sits. Fresh grass is daily
strewn on the floor, and round the room are set the tables, which are
low, circular pieces of wickerwork. It is only in such houses that the
tables are uniform in shape or size. Behind the tables and ranged
along the wall are the body guards of the prince, armed with shields
and a sword much resembling the old Roman weapon. Troops of servants
are in waiting, and before the banquet begins they bring in the bread
in piles, and place it on the tables. Sometimes as many as thirty
loaves will be placed for each guest, the finest bread being always at
the top and the coarsest below.
The object of this arrangement is to suit the different ranks of the
party. Those of highest rank come first, and eat the finest, using
the second-class bread as table-napkins. When they have finished, the
guests of the next rank come in, eat the second-class bread, and wipe
their fingers on the third-class bread, and so on until the whole is
consumed.
Round the room are hung rows of shields, lion skins, and mantles of
honor to be conferred by the prince on his subjects, while above them
is a wide carpet, on which are depicted lions, camels, horses, and
other animals.
All being ready, the guests assemble, and the prince takes his seat in
the alcove, where he gives audience. Professional musicians enliven
the scene with their instruments, and professional dancers aid their
efforts. In the mean time, the guests are eating as fast as they can,
the servants carrying meat from one guest to the other, and making
up neat little sausages of meat, bread, and pepper, which they put
adroitly into the mouths of the guests. As in more civilized lands, it
is always better to propitiate the servants, because they can give the
best parts of the meat to those whom they like, and reserve the gristle
and toughest parts for those who displease them.
The politer guests, having by means of two or three pounds of meat, a
pile of bread, and a gallon or so of mead, taken the edge off their
own appetites, make up similarly seasoned balls, and put them into
their neighbors’ mouths. This is done with such rapidity that a man
who happens to have made himself agreeable to his right and left hand
neighbors is nearly choked by the haste with which etiquette requires
that he shall despatch the highly-spiced morsels.
After this preliminary portion of the feast, in which cooked mutton is
mostly employed, acting as a provocative to the real banquet which is
to follow, the servants bring in raw meat still warm with life, and cut
from a cow that has been slaughtered at the door while the mutton and
bread has been consumed.
The giver of the feast sits in his alcove, and below him are the armed
guards. The guests sit at wickerwork tables, using their curved swords
with the national adroitness, and servants wait on the guests carrying
great pieces of raw beef about. The liquids, by the way, are drunk
from horns, which are always served by women. In the centre are the
musicians, playing the curious fiddle and harp of Shoa, and a little
further on are the dancers.
* * * * *
As to the other tribes which are either in or about Abyssinia, a very
few words must suffice for them.
There is one curious and very wild tribe, known by the name of BAREA.
They are inborn marauders, executing their raids with marvellous
rapidity and skill. So clever are they at concealing themselves, that
even on an open plain, where there is not the least cover, they manage
to dispose of themselves in such a way as to deceive an eye unpractised
in their arts.
Once Mr. Parkyns was passing through a district over which one of the
bush fires had swept, when he was astonished by the exclamation of his
guide, that Barea were in sight, pointing at the same time to a dead
tree, standing on an eminence at a distance of several hundred yards,
and charred black by last year’s fires. “All I saw was a charred stump
of a tree, and a few blackened logs or stones lying at its foot. The
hunter declared that neither the tree nor the stones were there the
last time that he passed, and that they were simply naked Barea, who
had placed themselves in that position to observe us, having no doubt
seen us for some time, and prepared themselves.
“I could scarcely believe it possible that they should remain so
motionless, and determined to explore a little. The rest of the party
advised me to continue quietly in the road, as it was possible that,
from our presenting a rather formidable appearance, we should pass
unmolested; but, so confident was I of his mistake, that, telling the
rest to go on slowly as if nothing had happened, I dropped into the
long grass and stalked toward them. A shot from my rifle, at a long
distance (I did not venture too close), acted on the tree and stones as
promptly as the fiddle of Orpheus, but with the contrary effect, for
the tree disappeared, and the stones and logs, instead of running after
me, ran in the opposite direction.
“I was never more surprised in my life, for so complete was the
deception, that even up to the time I fired I could have declared the
objects before me were vegetable or mineral--anything but animal. The
fact was that the cunning rascals who represented stones were lying
flat, with their little round shields placed before them as screens.”
[Illustration: (1.) BUFFALO DANCE. (See page 671.)]
[Illustration: (2.) BEDOUIN CAMP. (See page 682.)]
Some of the wild tribes of India act in the same manner. There is a
well-known story of an officer on the march, who was so completely
deceived that he stood close by one of these metamorphosed men for
some time, and at last hung his helmet on a projecting bough. This
was nothing more than a leg of the dark savage, who was standing on
his head, with his limbs fantastically disposed to represent the
branches of an old tree-stump, the illusion being heightened by the
spear-shafts, which did duty for the smaller branches. This mark of
confidence was too much for the gravity of the savage, who burst into
a shriek of laughter, turned head-over-heels, and disappeared into the
jungle, the helmet still attached to his leg.
These clever and withal amusing marauders are very thorns in the side
of the Abyssinians, who never know when the Barea may not be upon them.
In many respects they resemble the warlike tribes of the Red Indians,
though they are certainly superior to them in size and strength. They
will follow a travelling party for days, giving not an indication of
their presence, and speaking to one another wholly by signs, of which
they have an extensive vocabulary. But they will never show themselves
until the time comes for striking the long-meditated blow, when they
will make their attack, and then vanish as mysteriously as they had
come. On one occasion nearly two hundred Barea came overnight to the
outskirts of a village, and there lay in wait. In the early morning,
two of the principal men of the village, one a man who was celebrated
for his majestic and somewhat pompous demeanor, took a walk toward
their cotton-fields, and found themselves in the midst of the Barea,
who captured them, and carried them off to be sold as slaves to the
Arabs, who would probably sell them again to the Turks.
When the Barea encamp round a village, they keep themselves warm for
the night by the ingenious plan of each man digging a hole in the
ground, making a small fire in it, and squatting over it enveloped in
his cloth, so as to retain the heat and to prevent the fire from being
seen.
THE GALLAS.
Surrounding a very considerable portion of Abyssinia proper are various
tribes of the fierce and warlike GALLAS.
The Galla men are a fine and even handsome race, extremely variable in
the hue of their skin, as may be supposed from the very large extent
of ground which is inhabited by their tribes. Moreover, they have
mixed considerably with the Abyssinians proper, and are often employed
as slaves by them. Female Galla slaves are frequently kept in the
households of Abyssinians, and the consequence is, that a mixed progeny
has sprung up which partakes of the characteristics of both parents.
This has taken place considerably in Shoa, where the Galla element is
very conspicuous among the population. As a rule, however, they are
much darker than the Abyssinians, a circumstance which has induced Mr.
Johnstone to derive their name from the word “calla,” or black. Their
language is a dialect of the Amhara tongue, but varied, like their
skins, according to the precise locality of the tribe.
The features of the Gallas have none of the negro characteristics,
such as the length of the skull, the contracted (though not receding)
forehead, and the full development of the lips and jaws. The hair
resembles that of the Abyssinians, and is dressed in various modes.
Sometimes it is formed into long, narrow plaits, hanging nearly
to the shoulders, and in others it is frizzed out into tufts. The
most singular way of dressing the hair is to collect it into three
divisions, one occupying the top of the head, and one crossing each
temple. The divided tresses being then combed and frizzed to the
greatest possible extent, the whole head has a most comical aspect, and
has been likened to the ace of clubs.
The young women are bold and handsome, but are anything but
good-looking when they grow old. Three old women who visited Mr.
Johnstone, and evidently acted as spies, were remarkable for their
ugliness. They wore the hair in the usual multitudinous plaits, which
they had connected by means of threads, so as to form them into a
continuous curtain, and had been exceedingly lavish of butter. They
wore a sort of soft leather petticoat, and had on their feet a simple
sandal of ox-hide, fastened to the foot by a lap passing over the
great toe, and a thong over the instep. They came ostensibly to sell
tobacco and ropes. The latter articles they made even while they were
bargaining, a bundle of hemp being fastened to their girdles in front,
and the ropes, as fast as they were twisted, being coiled round their
waists.
The Gallas are a warlike race, and far more courageous than the
Abyssinians, who are more given to vaporing than fighting. When they
return home after a victory they celebrate a curious and violent dance,
called the Buffalo Dance. A head and the attached skin of a buffalo is
laid on the ground, and the men assemble round it armed as if for war,
with their spears and crooked swords. They then dance vigorously round
the buffalo skin, leaping high in the air, striking with their swords,
and thrusting with their spears, and going through all the manœuvres of
killing the animal. The women take an active part in the dance. It is
illustrated in the engraving No. 1, on the preceding page.
THE DANKALLI AND SOMAULI.
Then there are the Dankalli and Somauli tribes, each of them subdivided
into a number of smaller tribes, and having some traits peculiar to
themselves, and others common to the Abyssinians proper. Indeed, Mr.
Johnstone remarks that he has no doubt that, although they are now
distinct nations, they are derived from a common origin.
The Somaulis are a warlike people, and, instead of the spears and
shields which are almost the universal weapons through this part of
Africa, they carry light bows and large quivers, which hang under
the left arm by a broad strap passed over the same shoulder. The
bow, though light, is very strong, and is much after the classical
or Cupid’s bow form. In consequence of this shape, when the arrow is
discharged, the string comes quickly against the handle, and if the
archer be inexpert his thumb gets a violent blow.
The quiver is made of an emptied gourd, the mouth of which is closed
with a cover like that which is represented on several of the African
quivers mentioned in this work. It contains about a dozen arrows, about
a foot in length, and made of a hollow reed. Each is armed with a head
of blue steel, shaped something like the ace of spades, and having its
neck lengthened into a spike about an inch and a half long; this is
not attached to the arrow, but is loose, and when wanted for use the
spike is simply slipped into the unfeathered end of the hollow shaft.
Of course, when the weapon strikes its object, the shaft falls off,
and the head, which is poisoned, remains in the wound, and soon causes
death.
Instead of the sword, they carry a knife with a blade about eight
inches in length, the handle being merely a piece of wood rounded, and
slightly hollowed to give a firmer grasp.
The dress of the men consists of a “fotah,” or waist cloth, and a robe
called the “sarree.” Differing in use, these cloths are of exactly the
same shape and size, _i. e._ about eleven feet in length. The fotah
is wound twice round the waist, the end being tucked in behind, and
the whole garment made secure by the broad belt which holds the knife.
The sarree is worn in robe fashion, round the body, and a man of taste
disposes it so as to show off the two broad stripes of blue or scarlet
at the end.
The women also wear the fotah, over which, when out of doors, they
wear a long blue skirt without sleeves, and very open down the front.
This is laid aside in the house, where nothing but the fotah is worn.
The mode of dressing the hair into a continuous veil has been already
mentioned, and Mr. Johnstone was fortunate enough to witness the
process of dressing “this entangled mass, which reminded me of the hair
of Samson, interwoven with the web of the loom. The lady whose hair was
to be operated upon sat upon a stone in the court beneath one of our
windows, and behind her, on her knees, was a stout slave-girl, who held
in both hands a long-handled wooden fork-like comb, having four very
strong prongs, which she dragged through the woolly, greasy, and black
hair of her mistress, with the force of a groom currying a horse’s
tail.”
The particular sub-tribe to which the people belong is denoted by
sundry incised marks, which are cut with a fragment of obsidian, and
are formed into patterns which sometimes extend over the whole back and
breast.
CHAPTER LXVII.
NUBIANS AND HAMRAN ARABS.
TINT OF THE NUBIAN SKIN -- DRESS AND WEAPONS OF THE MEN -- PECULIAR
SWORD AND SHIELD -- DRESS OF THE WOMEN -- RÂHAT, OR THONG APRON --
AMULETS -- NUBIAN ARCHITECTURE -- THE HAMRAN ARABS -- WEAPONS OF THE
MEN -- CARE TAKEN OF THE WEAPONS -- ELEPHANT HUNTING -- ADMIRABLE
HORSEMANSHIP -- CATCHING BABOONS -- HUNTING THE LION -- CATCHING A
BUFFALO BY THE TAIL -- HARPOONING THE HIPPOPOTAMUS.
Inasmuch as, in spite of the continual contact with civilization,
caused by their locality on the Nile bank, the Nubians have preserved
their ancient style of dress and much of their ancient manners, they
deserve a place in this work.
In color the Nubians are mostly black, some being of quite a jetty hue,
while others are of much lighter color. Even in the blackest Nubian,
however, the tint of the skin is not that of the tropical negro, but
there is a certain transparency about it, which, in the sunbeams, gives
a sort of amber hue to the limbs. Besides being a fine and well-built
race, the Nubians possess pleasing features, the only fault being that
the lower part of the face is somewhat apt to project.
While young the boys wear no clothing whatever, but when adult they
wear short trousers, a shirt, and a kind of large scarf which passes
over the left shoulder, and is fastened by a girdle round the waist.
Being Mahometans, they shave the hair except one tuft on the crown, and
cover their bare heads with a white cotton cap.
The Nubian men mostly go armed according to their ability. The usual
weapons are the sword, dagger, spear, and shield. The sword is shaped
somewhat like that of the Abyssinian, but the curve is not so abrupt.
The general style of the weapon, however, and the shape of the handle,
proclaim a common origin. With some of the Nubians the favorite weapon
is the straight sword, like that of the Hamran Arabs, which will be
described in a future page.
Perhaps on account of the facility which the Nile affords for
travelling into South Central Africa, they wear a dagger fastened to
the left arm just above the elbow, exactly as do several of the tribes
that are found near the sources of the Nile. This dagger is short and
crooked, and is kept in a red leathern sheath, and, on account of its
position on the arm, is covered by the garments. The spear is simply
the ordinary wooden shaft with an iron head, and has nothing about it
specially worthy of notice.
The shield, however, is remarkable for its structure. It is generally
made of the hide of the hippopotamus or of crocodile skin, and is
easily known by the projecting boss in the centre. The hide is
stretched on a wooden framework, and the boss is made of a separate
piece of skin. The Nubians value these shields very highly, and, in
consequence, it is extremely difficult to procure them.
The women are dressed after the usual African manner. As girls they
wear nothing but a little apron of leathern thongs called a râhat.
This apron is about nine inches or a foot in width, and perhaps six
or seven in depth, and in general appearance resembles that of the
Kaffir girl. Instead of being cut from one piece of leather, each thong
is a separate strip of hide, scarcely thicker than packthread, and
knotted by the middle to the thong which passes round the waist. The
apron is dyed of a brick-red color, and, after it has been in use for
any time, becomes so saturated with the castor-oil which stands these
primitive belles in lieu of clothing, that the smell is unendurable.
Travellers often purchase them from the Nubian girls, who, as a rule,
are perfectly willing to sell them; but the buyers are obliged to hang
their purchases on the top of the mast for a month or so, before they
can be taken into the cabin. One of these aprons in my collection has
still the familiar castor-oil odor about it, though many years have
passed since it was purchased from a Nubian girl.
Of course they wear as many ornaments as they can procure; and some
of these, which are handed down from one generation to another, are
of great value. Few characteristics are more striking to an observant
traveller than the fact that a Nubian girl whose whole dress may
perhaps be worth threepence, and who really could not afford to wear
any clothing at all if it cost sixpence, will yet carry on her neck,
her wrists, her ankles, and in her ears, a quantity of gold sufficient
to purchase a handsome equipment.
It is rather a remarkable point that these aprons always become
narrower toward the left side. The daughters of wealthy parents, though
they wear no clothing except the apron, still contrive to satisfy the
instinctive love of dress by covering the leathern thongs with beads,
white shells, and pieces of silver twisted round them. When the girls
marry, they retain the apron, but wear over it a loose garment, which
passes over one shoulder, and hangs as low as the knee.
The ornaments with which they profusely decorate their persons are of
various materials, according to the wealth of the woman who owns them.
Those of the wealthy are of gold and silver, while those of the poorer
class are of buffalo horn, brass, and similar materials. The metal
amulets are of a crescent shape, and are open at one side, so as to be
clasped on the arm or removed, according to the wearer’s pleasure.
The hair is dressed in a way that recalls the ancient Egyptian woman
to the traveller. It is jetty black and tolerably long, and is twisted
with hundreds of small and straight tresses, generally finished off at
the tips with little knobs of yellow clay, which look at a distance as
if they were little lumps of gold. Amulets of different kinds are woven
into the locks, and the whole is so saturated with castor-oil that
an experienced traveller who wishes to talk to a Nubian woman takes
care to secure the windward side, and not to approach nearer than is
absolutely needful. As a rule, the Nubian women are not so dark as the
men, but approach nearly to a coffee tint.
“Two beautiful young Nubian women visited me in my boat, with hair in
the little plaits finished off with lumps of yellow clay, burnished
like golden tags, soft deep bronze skins, and lips and eyes fit for
Iris and Athor. Their very dress and ornaments were the same as those
represented in the tombs, and I felt inclined to ask them how many
thousand years old they were.” (Lady Duff Gordon’s “Letters from
Egypt.”)
The same writer well remarks that the whole country is a palimpsest,
in which the Bible is written over Herodotus, and the Koran over
the Bible. In the towns the Koran is most visible; in the country,
Herodotus.
One of these graceful Nubian girls is represented in the frontispiece
to this volume.
The amulets which have been just mentioned are worn by men and women
alike, and are sewed up in red leather cases like those of the
Bornuans. It is an essential part of their efficacy that their contents
should not be known, and if once a case be opened, the enclosed amulet
loses its power. The men often wear great numbers of them, tying them
on their arms above the elbows.
The houses in which the Nubians live, or rather in which they sleep,
are of very simple construction. Residing among the ruins of palaces,
the Nubians have never learned to build anything better than a mud hut.
These huts are of much the same shape as the old Egyptian buildings,
being squared towers, large at the base, and decreasing toward the top,
which is square, and in the better class of house answers as a terrace.
The roof is covered with palm branches, and every good house possesses
a sort of court-yard surrounded by walls, in which the women can pursue
their different vocations while sheltered from the sun.
Granaries are seen near every village, and consist of shallow pits sunk
in the ground and covered with a sort of white plaster. The villages
also possess a shed for the reception of strangers, and each house has
a jar of fresh water always kept ready for use.
Fortunately for themselves, the Nubians are both proud and fond of
their country; and, although they are despised by the Arabs to such
an extent that a Nubian always tries to pass himself off as an Arab
whenever he has the opportunity, they are ever boasting of the many
perfections of the land which they thus reject.
How long the Nubians may possess this land is doubtful. The Turk,
“under whose foot no grass grows,” is doing his best to depopulate the
country. The men are pressed for soldiers, as many as thirty per cent.
having been carried off in one conscription, and they are always being
seized for forced labor--_i. e._ a life somewhat worse than that of
plantation slaves. Consequently, as soon as they take alarm, they leave
their village and escape into the interior, abandoning their crops
and allowing them to perish rather than serve under the hated rule of
the Turk. The least resistance, or show of resistance, is punished by
death, and several travellers have related incidents of cold-blooded
cruelty which seem almost too horrible to tell, but which were taken
quite as matters of ordinary occurrence. Taxation, too, is carried
out to a simply ruinous extent, and the natural result is fast taking
place, namely, the depopulation of the land, and the gradual lessening
of the number of tax-payers.
THE HAMRAN ARABS.
To describe, however briefly, all the tribes which inhabit the vast
district called Arabia would be a task far beyond the pretensions of
this work. Some have advanced very far in civilization, while others
have retained, with certain modifications, their pristine and almost
savage mode of life. I shall therefore select these latter tribes as
examples of the Arab life, and shall briefly describe one or two of the
most characteristic examples.
* * * * *
South of Cassala there is a remarkable tribe of Arabs known as the
Hamrans, who are celebrated through all the country for their skill in
hunting. They possess the well-cut features and other characteristics
of the Arab race, and are only to be distinguished by the style of
wearing the hair. They permit the hair to grow to a great length, part
it down the middle, and carefully train it into long curls. Each man
always carries the only two weapons he cares about, namely, the sword
and shield. The latter is of no very great size, is circular in shape,
and about two feet in diameter, with a boss in the centre much like
that of the Nubian shield already described. It is made of the skin of
the hippopotamus, and being meant for use and not for show, is never
ornamented.
As to the sword, it is the chief friend of the Hamran Arab’s life, and
he looks upon it with a sort of chivalric respect. It is straight,
double-edged, and is furnished with a cross-handle, like that of the
ancient Crusaders, from whom the fashion seems to have been borrowed.
The blades are of European make, and the Arabs are excellent judges
of steel, valuing a good blade above everything. They keep both edges
literally as sharp as razors, and prove the fact by shaving with them.
When a Hamran Arab is travelling and comes to a halt, the first thing
he does after seating himself is to draw his sword and examine both
edges with the keenest attention. He then sharpens the weapon upon his
leathern shield, and when he can shave the hair on his own arm with
both edges, he carefully returns the blade into the sheath.
The length of the blade is three feet, and the handle is about six
inches long, so that the weapon is a very weighty one, and a fair
blow from its keen edge will cut a man in two. Still, it is not
serviceable in single combat, as, although its weight renders a
successful blow fatal, it prevents the recovery of the sword after
an unsuccessful blow. Sir S. Baker, to whom we are indebted for an
account of this remarkable tribe, says that a Hamran Arab, with his
sword and shield, would be at the mercy of an ordinary swordsman. He
can cut and slash with wonderful energy, but knows nothing of using the
point or parrying, so that, if a feint be made at his head, he will
instinctively raise the shield, and lay his whole body open to the
point of his adversary’s sword.
The scabbard in which the sword is carried is very ingeniously made of
two strips of soft and elastic wood, slightly hollowed to receive the
blade, and covered with leather. The absurd metal scabbards still in
use in our army would be scorned by an Arab, who knows the value of
a keen edge to his weapon. On the scabbard are fitted two projecting
pieces of leather. When the Arab is on the march, he slings the sword
on the pommel of his saddle, and passes his leg between these leather
projections, so that the sword is held in its place, and does not jump
and bang against the sides of the horse.
Armed with merely the sword, these mighty hunters attack all kinds of
game, and match themselves with equal coolness against the elephant,
the rhinoceros, the giraffe, the lion, or the antelope. Their mode
of procedure is almost invariably the same. They single out some
particular animal, and contrive to cut the tendon of the bind leg with
a blow of the sword, thus rendering the unfortunate beast helpless.
When they chase the elephant, they proceed in the following manner. The
elephant hunters, or aggageers, as they call themselves, convert their
swords into two-handed weapons by wrapping thin cord very closely round
the blade, for about nine inches from the handle. The guarded portion
of the blade is held in the right hand, and the hilt in the left.
Two hunters generally set out in chase of the elephant. Having selected
the bull with the largest tusks, they separate it from its fellows,
and irritate it until it charges them. One of the aggageers takes
on himself this duty, and draws the attention of the elephant upon
himself. The irritated animal makes its furious onset, and goes off at
full speed after the aggageer, who carefully accommodates his pace to
that of the elephant, so that it always thinks it is going to catch
him, and forgets that he has a companion.
Meanwhile, the other aggageer rides close to the side of the elephant,
draws his sword, springs to the ground, bounds alongside of the
elephant, delivers one tremendous cut on the ankle of the hind foot,
and springs again on his horse. As soon as the elephant puts the
injured foot on the ground, the joint becomes dislocated, and the
foot turns up like an old shoe. The animal is now helpless, and,
while its attention is still engaged by the aggageer whom it has been
pursuing, the swordsman passes to its other side, slashes the ankle
of the remaining leg, and brings the animal to a dead halt. The sword
is carefully wiped, sharpened, and returned to the sheath, while the
wounded elephant sinks to the ground, and in a short time dies from
loss of blood. Thus one man will kill an elephant with two blows of a
sword.
It is evident that such hunting as this requires the most perfect
horsemanship, and it is accordingly found that the Hamran Arabs are
among the best horsemen in the world. They and their steeds seem to be
actuated by one spirit, and they sit as if the horse and his rider were
but one animal. In his travels in Abyssinia Sir S. Baker gives a very
graphic account of their mode of riding.
“Hardly were we mounted and fairly started, than the monkey-like
agility of our aggageers was displayed in a variety of antics, that
were far more suited to performance in a circus than to a party of
steady and experienced hunters, who wished to reserve the strength of
their horses for a trying journey.
“Abou Do was mounted on a beautiful Abyssinian horse, a gray; Suleiman
rode a rough and inferior-looking beast; while little Jali, who was
the pet of the party, rode a gray mare, not exceeding fourteen hands
in height, which matched her rider exactly in fire, spirit, and speed.
Never was there a more perfect picture of a wild Arab horseman than
Jali on his mare. Hardly was he in the saddle, than away flew the
mare over the loose shingles that formed the dry bed of the river,
scattering the rounded pebbles in the air from her flinty hoofs, while
her rider in the vigor of delight threw himself almost under her belly
while at full speed, and picked up stones from the ground, which he
flung, and again caught as they descended.
“Never were there more complete Centaurs than these Hamran Arabs; the
horse and man appeared to be one animal, and that of the most elastic
nature, that could twist and turn with the suppleness of a snake; the
fact of their separate being was proved by the rider springing to the
earth with his drawn sword while the horse was in full gallop over
rough and difficult ground, and, clutching the mane, he again vaulted
into the saddle with the agility of a monkey, without once checking the
speed.
“The fact of being on horseback had suddenly altered the character
of these Arabs; from a sedate and proud bearing they had become the
wildest examples of the most savage disciples of Nimrod; excited by
enthusiasm, they shook their naked blades aloft till the steel trembled
in their grasp, and away they dashed, over rocks, through thorny bush,
across ravines, up and down steep inclinations, engaging in a mimic
hunt, and going through the various acts supposed to occur in the
attack of a furious elephant.”
This capability of snatching up articles from the ground stands the
hunters in good stead. If, for example, they should come across a flock
of sheep, each man will dash through the flock, stoop from his saddle,
pick up a lamb, and ride off with it. They can even catch far more
active prey than the lamb or kid. On one occasion, as the party were
travelling along, they came upon a large troop of baboons, who had been
gathering gum arabic from the mimosas. “Would the lady like to have a
baboon?” asked Jali, the smallest and most excitable of the party.
Three of the hunters dashed off in pursuit of the baboons, and in spite
of the rough ground soon got among them. Stooping from their saddles,
two of the aggageers snatched each a young baboon from its mother,
placed it on the neck of the horse, and rode off with it. Strange to
say, the captive did not attempt to escape, nor even to bite, but
clung convulsively to the mane of the horse, screaming with fear. As
soon as they halted, the hunters stripped some mimosa bark from the
trees, bound the baboons, and with their heavy whips inflicted a severe
flogging on the poor beasts. This was to make them humble, and prevent
them from biting. However, in the course of the next halt, when the
baboons were tied to trees, one of them contrived to strangle itself in
its struggles to escape, and the other bit through its bonds and made
off unseen.
For such work as this, the hunter must be able to stop his horse in a
moment, and accordingly the bit must be a very severe one. The saddle
is a very clumsy affair, made of wood and unstuffed, while the stirrups
are only large enough to admit the great toe.
The rhinoceros gives far more trouble to the hunters than the elephant.
It is much swifter, more active, and can turn more rapidly, spinning
round as if on a pivot, and baffling their attempts to get at its
hind leg. Unlike the elephant, it can charge on three legs, so that a
single wound does not disable it. Still the Hamran Arabs always kill
the rhinoceros when they can, as its skin will produce hide for seven
shields, each piece being worth two dollars, and the horn is sold to
the Abyssinians as material for sword hilts, the best horn fetching
two dollars per pound.
Lion-hunting is not a favorite pursuit with the Hamrans, as they gain
little if successful, and they seldom come out of the contest without
having suffered severely. They always try to slash the animal across
the loins, as a blow in that spot disables it instantly, and prevents
it from leaping. Sometimes the lion springs on the crupper of the
horse, and then a back-handed blow is delivered with the two-edged
sword, mostly with fatal effect.
The buffalo, fierce and active as it is, they hunt with the sword.
Nothing, perhaps, shows the splendid horsemanship and daring courage of
the Hamrans better than a scene which was witnessed by Sir S. Baker.
A large herd of buffaloes was seen and instantly charged by the
aggageers, and, while the buffaloes and hunters were mixed together in
one mass, the irrepressible little Jali suddenly leaned forward, and
seized the tail of a fine young buffalo, some twelve hands high. Two
other hunters leaped from their horses, snatched off their belts, and
actually succeeded in taking the animal alive. This was a great prize,
as it would be sold for a considerable sum at Cassala. Now as Jali was
barely five foot three inches in height, and very slightly made, such a
feat as seizing and finally capturing a powerful animal like a buffalo
bull was really a wonderful one.
They are as active on foot as on horseback. On one occasion, three
of them, Jali of course being one, were so excited with the chase
of a wounded elephant that they actually leaped from their horses
and pursued the animal on foot. The elephant was mad with rage, but
seemed instinctively to know that his enemies wanted to get behind
him, and always turned in time to prevent them. Active as monkeys, the
aggageers managed to save themselves from the charges of the elephant,
in spite of deep sand, which impeded them, while it had no effect on
the elephant. Time after time he was within a yard or so of one of the
hunters, when the other two saved him by dashing upon either flank, and
so diverting his attention.
They hunt the hippopotamus as successfully as they chase the elephant,
and are as mighty hunters in the water as upon land. In this chase they
exchange the sword and shield for the harpoon and lance. The former
weapon is made on exactly the same principle as that which has already
been described when treating of the hippopotamus hunters of South
Central Africa, but it is much lighter. The shaft is a stout bamboo
about ten feet in length, and the head is a piece of soft steel about a
foot long, sharply pointed at one end and having a single stout barb.
One end of a rope, about twenty feet in length, is firmly attached to
the head, and to the other end is fastened a float made of a very light
wood called ambatch, which is also used for making canoes and rafts.
When the hunter sees a hippopotamus, and means to attack it, he puts on
his hunting dress, _i. e._ he braces a leathern belt round his waist,
and takes off all his clothes. He then fixes the iron head on the
bamboo shaft, winds the rope round the latter, and boldly enters the
water, holding the harpoon in the right hand and the ambatch float in
the left. As soon as he comes within striking distance of his victim,
the harpoon is hurled, and the hunter tries to find a spot in which the
infuriated animal cannot reach him. The wounded hippopotamus dashes
about, first in the river, then on the bank, and then in the river
again, always trailing after it the rope and float, and so weakening
itself, and allowing its enemies to track it. Sooner or later they
contrive to seize the end, drag the animal near the bank, and then with
their lances put it to death.
Often, when they have brought the hippopotamus to the shore, it charges
open-mouthed at its tormentors. Some of them receive it with spears,
while others, though unarmed, boldly await its onset, and fling
handfuls of sand into its eyes. The sand really seems to cause more
pain and annoyance than the spears, and the animal never can withstand
it, but retreats to the water to wash the sand out of its eyes. In the
mean time, weapon after weapon is plunged into its body, until at last
loss of blood begins to tell upon it, and by degrees it yields up its
life.
Sir S. Baker gives a most animated description of one of these strange
hunts.
One of the old Hamran hunters, named Abou Do--an abbreviated version
of a very long string of names--was celebrated as a howarti, or
hippopotamus hunter. This fine old man, some seventy years of age, was
one of the finest conceivable specimens of humanity. In spite of his
great age, his tall form, six feet two in height, was as straight as
in early youth, his gray locks hung in thick curls over his shoulders,
and his bronze features were those of an ancient statue. Despising all
encumbrances of dress, he stepped from rock to rock as lightly as a
goat, and, dripping with water, and bearing his spear in his hand, he
looked a very Neptune. The hunters came upon a herd of hippopotami in a
pool, but found that they were too much awake to be safely attacked.
“About half a mile below this spot, as we clambered over the
intervening rocks through a gorge which formed a powerful rapid, I
observed, in a small pool just below the rapid, an immense head of a
hippopotamus close to a perpendicular rock that formed a wall to the
river, about six feet above the surface. I pointed out the hippo to
old Abou Do, who had not seen it.
“At once the gravity of the old Arab disappeared, and the energy of the
hunter was exhibited as he motioned us to remain, while he ran nimbly
behind the thick screen of bushes for about a hundred and fifty yards
below the spot where the hippo was unconsciously basking, with his ugly
head above the surface. Plunging into the rapid torrent, the veteran
hunter was carried some distance down the stream, but, breasting the
powerful current, he landed upon the rocks on the opposite side, and,
retiring to some distance from the river, he quickly advanced toward
the spot beneath which the hippopotamus was lying. I had a fine view of
the scene, as I was lying concealed exactly opposite the hippo, who had
disappeared beneath the water.
“Abou Do now stealthily approached the ledge of rock beneath which he
had expected to see the head of the animal; his long, sinewy arm was
raised, with the harpoon ready to strike as he carefully advanced. At
length he reached the edge of the perpendicular rock, the hippo had
vanished, but, far from exhibiting surprise, the old Arab remained
standing on the sharp ledge, unchanged in attitude.
“No figure of bronze could have been more rigid than that of the
old river-king, as he stood erect upon the rock with the left foot
advanced, and the harpoon poised in his ready right hand above his
head, while in the left he held the loose coils of rope attached to the
ambatch buoy. For about three minutes he stood like a statue, gazing
intently into the clear and deep water beneath his feet.
“I watched eagerly for the reappearance of the hippo; the surface of
the water was still barren, when suddenly the right arm of the statue
descended like lightning, and the harpoon shot perpendicularly into
the pool with the speed of an arrow. What river-fiend answered to
the summons? In an instant an enormous pair of open jaws appeared,
followed by the ungainly head and form of the furious hippopotamus,
who, springing half out of the water, lashed the river into foam,
and, disdaining the concealment of the deep pool, he charged straight
up the violent rapids. (See engraving No. 1, on the next page.)
With extraordinary power he breasted the descending stream; gaining
a footing in the rapids, about five feet deep, he ploughed his way
against the broken waves, sending them in showers of spray upon all
sides, and upon gaining broader shallows he tore along through the
water, with the buoyant float hopping behind him along the surface,
until he landed from the river, started at full gallop along the dry
shingly bed, and at length disappeared in the thorny nabbuk jungle.”
During one of these flights, the hippopotamus took it into his head
that the ambatch float was the enemy that was damaging him, and
attacked it furiously. Taking advantage of his pre-occupation, two
hunters swam across the river, carrying with them a very long and tough
rope, and holding one end on each bank and “sweeping,” as the sailors
say, they soon caught the float in the centre of the rope and brought
it ashore. The hippopotamus then made a charge, and the slackened line
was immediately coiled round a rock, while two hunters fixed additional
harpoons in the animal; and though he made six charges at his foes,
bit one of the ropes asunder, and crushed the lance-shafts between his
teeth like straws, the hardy hunters got the better of him, and his
death was a mere matter of time.
The hippopotamus is nearly as great a prize as the rhinoceros, as it
affords an almost unlimited supply of food, and the hide is extremely
valuable, being cut into strips two inches in width, which are used in
the manufacture of the koorbash, or hide whip, so universally employed
throughout Africa.
In the water, the crocodile is even a more dangerous antagonist than
the hippopotamus, and yet the Hamrans attack it with their harpoons,
boldly entering the water, and caring no more for crocodiles than for
so many frogs.
[Illustration: (1.) HUNTING THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. (See page 678.)]
[Illustration: (2.) TRAVELLERS AND THE MIRAGE. (See page 689.)]
CHAPTER LXVIII.
BEDOUINS, HASSANIYEHS, AND MALAGASY.
SIGNIFICATION OF THE NAME -- GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE BEDOUINS --
THEIR ROBBER NATURE -- HOSPITALITY AND ITS DUTIES -- LIFE AMONG
THE BEDOUINS -- THE BEDOUIN WOMEN -- SIMPLE MODE OF GOVERNMENT --
CONSTANT FEUDS -- MODE OF COOKING -- THE DATE AND ITS USES -- THE
HASSANIYEHS -- GENERAL APPEARANCE -- THEIR VILLAGES -- STRANGE
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS -- A HASSANIYEH DANCE -- SUPERSTITIONS OF THE ARABS
-- THE HAUNTED HOUSE -- NOTIONS OF THE MIRAGE -- THE INK MIRROR
-- THE MALAGASY AND THEIR TRIBES -- THE FIRST BEEF-EATER -- THE
HOVA TRIBE -- ARCHITECTURE -- THE TRAVELLER’S TREE AND ITS USES --
TREATMENT OF SLAVES -- NOTIONS OF RELIGION -- THE BLACKSMITH TRIBE.
Of all the many tribes which are designated by the common title of
Arab, the typical tribes are those which are so well known by the
name of BEDOUIN, or BEDAWEEN. The former is the more familiar mode of
spelling the word, and it will therefore be employed. The name is a
most appropriate one, being derived from an Arabic word which signifies
the desert, and meaning, therefore, a man of the wilderness. The
Bedouins are indeed men of the desert. True Ishmaelites, their hand is
against every man, and every man’s hand against them. They build no
houses, they cultivate no lands, they conduct no merchandise; but are
nomad and predatory, trusting chiefly for their living to the milk of
their camels, and looking upon their horses and dromedaries as means
whereby they can plunder with greater security.
As Mr. Palgrave pithily remarks, while treating of the character of
the Bedouin: “The Bedouin does not fight for his home, he has none;
nor for his country, that is anywhere; nor for his honor, he has never
heard of it: nor for his religion, he owns and cares for none. His only
object in war is the temporary occupation of some bit of miserable
pasture-land, or the use of a brackish well; perhaps the desire to get
such a one’s horse or camel into his own possession.”
In person the Bedouins are fine specimens of the human race. They are
tall, stately, with well-cut features, and have feet and hands that
are proverbial for their beauty. Their demeanor in public is grave
and haughty, and every man walks as if he were monarch of the world.
While other Arab tribes have lost their distinctive manners by contact
with civilization, the Bedouins alone have preserved them, and, even
when they visit the cities which they hate so much, they can be at
once distinguished by their demeanor. Lady Duff-Gordon was greatly
struck with it. “To see a Bedawee and his wife walk through the streets
of Cairo is superb. Her hand resting on his shoulder, and scarcely
deigning to cover her haughty face, she looks down on the Egyptian
veiled woman, who carries the heavy burden and walks behind her lord
and master.”
The dress of the Bedouins is simple enough. The men wear a sort of a
tunic or shirt, covered with a large thick mantle called the haik.
Another cloth is disposed over the head, and falls on either side of
the face so as to shield it from the sun, and is kept in its place by a
cord of camel’s hair, that is wound several times across the brows. As
for the women, they wear a blue shirt, much open at the bosom, and care
for no other clothing.
Being a predatory race, the Bedouins are always armed, their chief
weapon being the spear, which is of enormous length, and often so
weighty that a powerful as well as a practised arm is required to wield
it. At the present day those who can afford fire-arms carry guns of
such length of barrel that they seem to have been made in emulation of
the spear shafts. These weapons are of very indifferent quality, and
the Bedouin is never a good marksman, his clumsy weapon taking a long
time to load, and the owner taking a long time to aim, and then aiming
very badly.
In consequence of the robber nature of the Bedouins, no one will
venture to pass through their districts without being well armed, or
protected by a sufficient escort. At the present day, Europeans can
travel with comparative safety, as they have a way of fighting when
attacked, and of generally hitting their mark when they fire, so
that even the wandering Bedouins have conceived a respect for such
incomprehensible beings, and would rather receive them as guests than
fight them as enemies.
If, however, they come upon a solitary traveller, they pounce upon
him, and rob him of everything, even of his clothes. Still, they are
not brutal about it, except perhaps in enforcing haste by a menacing
gesture with a spear. They seldom accompany robbery with murder, and
have been known to take the traveller whom they have robbed into their
tents, feed him, give him old clothes instead of the new which they
have taken from him, keep him all night, and send him on his journey,
even taking the trouble to accompany him for some distance, lest he
should lose his way. The robber feels no enmity toward the man, and
simply looks on him as a providential benefit cast in his way, and as
such rather respects him than otherwise.
The reader will remember that the Bedouin takes the man to his tent
_after_ he has robbed him. Had he begun operations by allowing the
traveller to enter his tent, and partake of his food, he could not have
robbed his guest afterward. There is a chivalrous sort of feeling in
the Arab mind that the person of a guest is sacred; and if the fiercest
Bedouin had received a man under the shadow of his tent, he would be
bound to protect that man as if he were his own son. So far is this
feeling carried, that instances have been known where a strange Arab
has taken refuge in a tent and received protection, though the owner
discovered that his guest had killed one of his nearest relations.
The only habitations of the Bedouins are their tents. These tents, on
which so much poetry has been lavished, are about as unpoetical as
anything can be. Any one can make a Bedouin tent in five minutes. He
has only to take a few sticks, some five feet in length, thrust one
end into the ground, throw over them a piece of black and very dirty
sackcloth, peg the edges to the ground, and there is the tent. Being
only some four feet in height in the middle, no one can stand upright
in it, and only in the middle can any one even sit upright. But as the
tent is not regarded as we regard a house, and is only used as a sort
of convenient shelter in which the Arabs can sleep, height is of no
importance. The engraving No. 2, on page 670, illustrates a “Bedouin
camp.”
These low, dark tents are almost invariably pitched in the form of a
semicircle, the openings eastward, and just enough space left between
each hut for the passage of their camels and horses. The area inclosed
between the arms of the crescent is intended for the children, as
a place wherein they may disport themselves while still under the
mother’s eye. When new, the tents are mostly striped in broad bands
of two or three feet in width, but the rough usage to which they are
subjected soon destroys the color.
Such are the tents of the ordinary Bedouins. The sheikh, or chief
of each clan, has a larger and better tent, which is divided into
compartments by curtains, so disposed as to leave a set of rooms on the
outside, and one or more rooms in the centre. Those on the outside are
for the men, and those in the interior for the women belonging to the
sheikh’s family. A certain amount of privacy is gained, which belongs,
however, only to the eye and not to the ear, the partitions being
nothing more than curtains, and the Arabs all speaking in the loudest
of voices--a bawling nation, as a French traveller described them.
The furniture is suitable to the dwelling, and consists merely of a
mat or two and a few pots. Some of the wealthier are very proud of
possessing brass mortars in which they pound their coffee, and every
morning is heard the musical tinkle of the coffee-maker. Even the men
condescend to make coffee, and the sheikh himself may be seen at work
in the morning, pounding away at the berries, and rejoicing equally
in the musical sound of the pestle and the fragrant odor of the
freshly-roasted coffee.
Thus bred entirely in the open air, the only shelter being the tattered
sackcloth of the tent, the true Bedouin can endure no other life. He is
as miserable within the walls of a town as a wolf in a trap. His eyes,
accustomed to range over the vast expanse of desert, are affronted by
the walls over which he cannot see. The streets oppress him, and within
the atmosphere of a room he can scarcely breathe. Both he and his camel
are equally out of their element when among civilized people, and
they are ever looking forward to the happy moment when they may again
breathe the free air of the desert.
Life among the Bedouins is not pleasant to a European, and is by no
means the sort of paradisaical existence that we are often led to
think. It is certainly a free life in its way, and has that peculiar
charm which is felt by all civilized beings when first allowed to do
as they like. But it has its drawbacks, not the least being that every
one is equally free; and if a stronger man should choose to assert his
freedom by plundering the traveller, he is at perfect liberty to do so.
Then the “Arab maids,” who look so picturesque--in a painting--are not
quite so pleasant in reality. Dirt, evil odors, screaming voices and
detestable manners are not seen in a picture, but in reality force
themselves on more senses than one. Even in youth the Bedouin girls
are not so handsome as is generally thought. They are tall, well
made, and graceful, but are deficient in that gentleness and softness
which we naturally associate with the feminine nature. They are fond
of tattooing themselves, and cover their arms and chins with blue
patterns, such as stars or arabesque figures. Some of them extend the
tattoo over the breast nearly as low as the waist. The corners of
the eyes are sometimes decorated with this cheap and indestructible
ornament. They are fond of ornaments, especially of ear-rings, which
can scarcely be too large for them.
Unlike the more civilized Mahometans, they care little about veiling
their faces, and, in fact, pass a life nearly as free as that of the
men. Even the women’s apartment of the tent is thrown open by day for
the sake of air, and any one can see freely into it.
Feminine beauty differs as much among the Arabs as among other people.
Mr. Palgrave says wittily that if any one could invent an instrument
which could measure beauty--a kalometer, as he calls it--the Bedouin
would be “represented by zero, or at most 1°. A degree higher would
represent the female sex of Nejed; above them rank the women of Shomer,
who are in their turn surmounted by those of Djowf. The fifth or sixth
degree symbolizes the fair ones of Hasa; the seventh those of Katar;
and lastly, by a sudden rise of ten degrees at least, the seventeenth
or eighteenth would denote the pre-eminent beauties of Oman.
“Arab poets occasionally languish after the charmers of Hejaz; I never
saw anyone to charm _me_, but then I only skirted the province. All
bear witness to the absence of female loveliness in Yamen; and I should
much doubt whether the mulatto races and dusky complexions of Hadramout
have much to vaunt of. But in Hasa a decided improvement in this
important point is agreeably evident to the traveller arriving from
Nejed, and he will be yet further delighted on finding his Calypsos
much more conversible, and having much more too in their conversation,
than those he left behind him in Sedeys and Aared.”
It is popularly thought that Arab manners are like those of the
Turk,--grave, polite, and majestic. The fact is far different. Though,
like the American Indian, the Arab has a proud and stately walk, and
knows well enough how to assume a regally indifferent demeanor on
occasion, he is by nature lively and talkative, not caring very much
what he talks about; and fond of singing Arab songs in that curious
mixture of high screaming falsetto and guttural intonation which he is
pleased to consider vocal music.
Then the general manners are by no means dignified, even when the
Bedouins want to do special honor to a guest. Mr. Palgrave spent
much time among them, and has drawn a vivid picture of life in a
Bedouin encampment. It is no unfavorable one, the inmates being
described as “ajaweed,” or gentlemen--though the author remarks rather
wickedly that, if they were gentlemen, he very much wondered what the
blackguards were like.
“The chief, his family (women excepted), his intimate followers, and
some twenty others, young and old, boys and men, came up, and, after
a kindly salutation Bedouin-wise, seated themselves in a semicircle
before us. Every man held a short crooked stick for camel-driving in
his hand, to gesticulate with in speaking, or to play with in the
intervals of conversation; while the younger members of society, less
prompt in discourse, politely employed their leisure in staring at us,
or in pinching up dried pellets of dirt from the sand, and tossing them
about.
“But how am I to describe their conversation, their questions and
answers, their manners and jests? ‘A sensible person in this city is
like a man tied up among a drove of mules in a stable,’ I once heard
from a respectable stranger in the Syrian town of Homs, a locality
proverbial for the utter stupidity of its denizens. But among Bedouins
in the desert, where the advantages of the stable are wanting, the
guest rather resembles a man in the middle of a field among untied
mules, frisking and kicking their heels in all directions around him.
“Here you may see human nature at its lowest stage, or very nearly.
One sprawls stretched out on the sand, another draws unmeaning lines
with the end of his stick, a third grins, a fourth asks purposeless or
impertinent questions, or cuts jokes meant for wit, but in fact only
coarse in the extreme. Meanwhile the boys thrust themselves forward
without restraint, and interrupt their elders (their betters I can
hardly say) without the smallest respect or deference.
“And yet, in all this, there is no real intention of rudeness, no
desire to annoy--quite the reverse. They sincerely wish to make
themselves agreeable to the new comers, to put them at their ease, nay,
to do them what good service they can, only they do not exactly know
how to set about it. If they violate all laws of decorum or courtesy,
it is out of sheer ignorance, not _malice prepense_. And, amid the
aimlessness of an utterly uncultivated mind, they occasionally show
indications of considerable tact and shrewdness; while, through all the
fickleness proper to man accustomed to no moral or physical restraint,
there appears the groundwork of a manly and generous character, such as
a Persian, for instance, seldom offers.
“Their defects are inherent in their condition, their redeeming
qualities are their own--they have them by inheritance from one of
the noblest races of earth, from the Arabs of inhabited lands and
organized governments. Indeed, after having travelled much and made
pretty intimate acquaintance with many races, African, Asiatic, and
European, I should hardly be inclined to give the preference to any
over the genuine unmixed clans of Central and Eastern Africa. Now these
last-mentioned populations are identical in blood and tongue with the
myriads of the desert, yet how immeasurably inferior! The difference
between a barbarous Highlander and an English gentleman, in ‘Rob Roy’
or ‘Waverley,’ is hardly less striking.”
The resemblance between the gipsy and the Bedouin is almost too
evident to need mention, and the author of this passage has here drawn
attention to the singular resemblance between the Bedouin and the
Highlander, as described by Scott. There is, however, in the “Legend
of Montrose,” a passage which is worthy of being quoted in this place,
so strangely close is the parallel. It occurs in the scene where the
wounded Mac-Eogh is dying in prison, and is giving his last commands
to his grandson. “Keep thou unsoiled the freedom which I leave thee
as a birthright. Barter it not, neither for the rich garment, nor for
the stone roof, nor for the covered board, nor for the couch of down.
Son of the Mist, be free as thy forefathers. Own no land--receive
no law--take no hire--give no stipend--build no hut--inclose no
pasture--sow no grain.... Begone--shake the dust from thy feet against
the habitations of men, whether banded together for peace or war.”
Shift the scene from Scotland to Arabia, and no more appropriate words
could have been put into the mouth of a dying Bedouin chief.
With characters so impatient of control, it is evident that there can
be no government worthy of the name. Like the Son of the Mist, they
acknowledge no lord, and there is no one who bears even by courtesy the
title of King of the Bedouins. Each clan is governed by its own sheikh,
and occasionally a few clans unite for some raid under the presidency
of the eldest or most important sheikh, and remain united for some
time. But his rule only lasts as long as the others choose to obey him,
and instead of being a sovereign, or even a commander-in-chief, he is
but _primus inter pares_.
The clans themselves vary exceedingly in numbers, and, as a general
rule, each clan consists of one family, gathered together after the
patriarchal system. Then if one of the men should happen to excel his
fellows he is sure to get together a band of followers, to separate in
time from his family, and found a clan of his own.
In consequence of this insubordinate nature, war, as we understand it,
is impossible, simply because discipline cannot be maintained. If,
for example, several clans unite under the presidency of one of their
number, should one of the confederated sheikhs feel dissatisfied with
the commander, he will go off together with his people, and probably
join another who is more to his mind.
Though war is unknown, the Bedouins live in a chronic state of feud,
no one knowing whether his encampment may not be assailed by another
clan, all his little property--dress included--torn from him, if he
submits, and his throat very probably cut if he resists. No one ever
thinks of giving notice of attack, or of fighting anything like equal
numbers. Should they not be far superior in numbers, they contrive to
project their assault secretly, and to take their victims by surprise,
and the man who is most ingenious in planning such raids, and the most
active and courageous in carrying them out, is sure to be the man who
will rise to a sort of eminence in his own clan, and finish by founding
one of his own. The only object of such a raid is the acquisition of
property; and even a handsome horse, or a remarkably swift dromedary,
will cause the destruction of a whole clan.
Living in the desert, and only travelling from one fertile spot to
another, they cannot be expected to be very delicate in regard to
provisions, nor to possess any great skill in cookery. Their greatest
luxury is a feast on boiled mutton and the whole process of cooking and
serving is almost ludicrously simple. The body of a sheep is cut up and
thrown into a pot, together with a sufficiency of water. The pot is
then placed on the fire, and in process of time it boils. When it is
about two-thirds cooked, according to our ideas, the hungry Bedouins
can wait no longer; it is all turned into a large wooden bowl, and
the guests assemble round it. Their hands are plunged into the bowl,
the scalding and half-raw meat is quickly torn to pieces, and in five
minutes nothing is left but the cleanly picked bones. No vegetables
are added to it, and no condiments are thought needful. Water is then
passed round in another bowl or pail, a deep draught is taken, and the
feast is over.
The bread of the Bedouin is as simple as the cookery. The baker pours a
few handfuls of flour upon a circular piece of leather, pours a little
water upon it, and kneads it into dough. Another man has in the mean
time been preparing a fire, and, as soon as it burns up, the dough is
patted into a thin circular cake, about one inch thick and six inches
diameter. This is laid on the fire and covered with embers, and after
being turned once or twice, and the ashes brushed off, it is taken
from the fire, broken up, and eaten as it is--“half-kneaded, half-raw,
half-roasted, and burnt all round.” Were it not eaten while still hot,
it would become so tough and leathery that not even a Bedouin could
eat it. In fact, it very much resembles the rough-and-ready bread of
the Australian shepherds, which is so well known under the name of
“damper.” One advantage of this style of bread is, that it can be
readily cooked on a journey, and, on special occasions, a camel-rider
can even bake his bread while on the back of his dromedary.
The date is, however, the chief resource of the Bedouin, and on that
fruit alone he can exist for a long time, even through the many
hardships which he has to endure in his journeying through the desert.
In England we do not know what the date really is, nor can understand
the rich lusciousness of the fruit before it is dried and preserved. In
the latter state it is very heating to a European, and slightly so even
to a native, whereas in its fresh state it has no such evil qualities.
It contains a marvellous amount of nourishment, and when fresh does not
cloy the palate, as is always the case when it is dried.
In consequence of this nourishing property of the fruit, the date tree
is not only valued, but absolutely honored. The Arab addresses it as
his mother, and treats it with as much reverence as if it were really
his parent. A single date tree is a valuable property among all Arab
tribes, and, although the genuine Bedouins own none, they reverence it
as much as their more stationary brethren. Cutting down the date trees
of an enemy is looked upon as the last extremity of cruelty, while
planting the trees on a new piece of ground is a sign of peace and
prosperity.
The date is eaten in various ways. It is usually preferred while fresh
and full of its own sweet juices, but, as it cannot be kept fresh very
long, it is dried, pressed together, and so stored for future use. When
the dried date forms a portion of a feast, the fruit is served in a
large wooden bowl, in the middle of which is a cup containing melted
butter. Each guest then picks out the dates singly from the mass, and
dips each slightly into the butter before eating it.
There are many qualities of dates, and the best, which grow at Kaseem,
are in great estimation, and are largely imported to the non-producing
parts of Arabia. At Kaseem, the date-palm is cultivated to a great
extent, and probably owes its peculiar excellence to the constant
presence of water six or seven feet below the surface of the ground.
The ripening season corresponds with our autumn, extending through the
latter part of August and the beginning of September.
Some connoisseurs, however, prefer the Khalas date. It grows only in
Hasa, and fully deserves its name, which signifies quintessence. It is
smaller than the Kaseem date, semi-transparent, and of a rich amber
color. The sale of this particular date brings in a large income to
Hasa, the fruit being exported as far as Bombay and Zanzibar.
Of religion, the genuine Bedouin has not the least idea. He is
nominally a Mahometan, and will repeat certain formulæ with perfect
accuracy. He will say his Bismillahs, and Mashallahs, and other pious
ejaculations as well as any one, but he has not the least idea who
Allah may be, neither does he care. As far as Mr. Palgrave could
ascertain, their only idea of Allah was that of a very great sheikh,
who would have about the same authority over them in the next world as
their own sheikh in this sphere. That is to say, they consider that
they will be quite as independent after death as before, and that
they will acknowledge allegiance to this great sheikh as long as they
choose, and no longer.
Like all men who are ignorant of religion, they are superstitious in
proportion to their ignorance. Profoundly illiterate themselves, they
have the greatest reverence for book-learning, and any one who can
read a book is respected, while he who can write as well as read is
regarded with a curious mixture of admiration, envy, and fear. The
latter feeling is excited by his presumed ability of writing saphiès,
or charms, which are mostly sentences from the Koran, and are supposed
to possess every imaginable virtue.
Before leaving the Bedouin Arabs, a few words must be said about the
Arab and his horse. Many tales are told of the love that exists between
the animal and its master, of the attention which is lavished on a
favorite mare, and how she and her colt inhabit the tent together with
the children, and are all playfellows together. This certainly may be
the case occasionally, but not invariably. That they are brought up
in close contact is true enough, and that the animal thereby acquires
an intelligence which it never could possess under less sociable
treatment. But the Arab has no more real affection for his steed than
has many an English gentleman for his favorite horse; and, if he be
angered, he is capable of treating the animal with hasty cruelty.
THE HASSANIYEH.
We are come to a branch of the Arabs called the Hassaniyeh, who inhabit
a large tract of land south of Khartoum. They are paler in complexion
than those of whom we have already treated, having a decided tinge of
yellow in their skins. They are slight, tall and straight-featured.
The men part their hair in the middle, plait it into long braids, and
fasten it at the back of the head, so that they have rather a feminine
aspect.
The villages of the Hassaniyeh are mere assemblages of slight huts,
circular in shape, and having conical roofs, with a hole in the centre
by way of a chimney. The walls are made of sticks and reeds, and the
roofs of straw, and at a little distance the huts look more like tents
than houses. Each hut is surrounded with a fence of thorns.
As among other Arab tribes, the sheikh’s house is much larger and
better than those of the commonalty, and is divided into several
chambers. Sometimes a sort of second hut is placed in the interior, is
made of fine yellow grass, and is inhabited by the women. Now and then
a sheikh has his tent covered with camel’s-hair cloth, and one of them,
seen by Mr. Bayard Taylor, was thirty feet in length, and contained two
inner chambers. The walls were covered with skins, gourds, and similar
articles; the principal chamber contained a large bedstead or angarep;
and the cloth roof was decorated with great quantities of cowrie
shells, sewed upon it in crosses, stars, and other patterns.
The people have some very strange customs, among which is one that is
almost peculiar to themselves, though an analogous custom prevails
in one or two parts of the world. A woman when she marries does not
merge her identity entirely in that of her husband, but reserves to
herself one-fourth of her life. Consequently, on every fourth day she
is released from her marriage vows; and, if she happens to take a fancy
to any man, the favored lover may live with her for four-and-twenty
hours, during which time the husband may not enter the hut. With this
curious exception, the Hassaniyeh women are not so immoral as those of
many parts of the world. When a traveller passes through the country,
they are bound to fulfil the rites of hospitality by assigning him a
house during the time of his visit, and lending him a wife for the same
period. Mr. Taylor suggests that if the Hassaniyeh would also lend him
a family of children their generosity would be complete.
When a stranger of rank visits their domains, they perform a curious
dance of welcome by way of salutation. Mr. Bayard Taylor has well
described one of these dances which he witnessed on his voyage to
Khartoum. He had won the hearts of the people by presenting them with
a handful of tobacco and fourpence in copper. “In a short time I
received word that the women of the village would come to perform a
dance of welcome and salutation, if I would allow them. As the wind was
blowing strongly against us and the sailors had not finished skinning
the sheep, I had my carpet spread on the sand in the shade of a group
of mimosas, and awaited their arrival.
“Presently we heard a sound of shrill singing and the clapping of
hands in measured beat, and discerned the procession advancing slowly
through the trees. They came two by two, nearly thirty in all, singing
a shrill, piercing chorus, which sounded more like lamentation than
greeting.
“When they had arrived in front of me, they ranged themselves into a
semicircle, with their faces toward me, and, still clapping their hands
to mark the rhythm of the song, she who stood in the centre stepped
forth, with her breast heaved almost to a level with her face, which
was thrown back, and advanced with a slow undulating motion, till
she had reached the edge of my carpet. Then, with a quick jerk, she
reversed the curve of her body, throwing her head forward and downward,
so that the multitude of her long twists of black hair, shining with
butter, brushed my cap. This was intended as a salutation and sign of
welcome; I bowed my head at the same time, and she went back to her
place in the ranks.
“After a pause the chorus was resumed and another advanced, and so
in succession, till all had saluted me, a ceremony which occupied an
hour. They were nearly all young, between the ages of fourteen and
twenty, and some were strikingly beautiful. They had the dark-olive
Arab complexion, with regular features, teeth of pearly whiteness, and
black, brilliant eyes. The coarse cotton robe thrown over one shoulder
left free the arms, neck, and breasts, which were exquisitely moulded.
Their bare feet and ankles were as slender as those of the Venus of
Cleomenes.”
All the women took their part successively in this curious dance, and
by far the most beautiful and graceful of them was the wife of the
sheikh, a young woman barely twenty years old, with features compared
by Mr. Taylor to those of Guido’s Cleopatra, the broad round forehead,
full oval face, and regal bearing all adding to the resemblance. Her
hair was plaited into at least fifty braids, and was thickly plastered
with butter, and upon her head was a diadem of white beads. She moved
with a stately grace down the line, and so charmed were the guests with
her mode of performing the curious salutation, that she repeated it
several times for their gratification.
Even the men took part in the dance, and one of them, a splendid
example of the purest Arab blood, possessed so perfect a form, and
moved in the dance with such entire and absolute grace, that he even
drew away the traveller’s attention from the women.
* * * * *
We now come to some of the manners and customs of the Arabs, which
are not restricted to certain tribes, but are characteristic of the
Arab nature. Some of them are remarkable for the fact that they have
survived through many centuries, and have resisted the influence of
a comparatively new religion, and the encroachments of a gradually
advancing civilization.
As may be expected, their superstitions have undergone but little
change, and the learned and most civilized Arab acknowledges their
power in his heart as well as the ignorant and half-savage Arab who
never saw a book or entered a house. He will not openly admit that
he believes in these superstitions, but he does believe in them very
firmly, and betrays his belief in a thousand ways. Educated though he
be, he has a lingering faith in the efficacy of written charms; and
if he should happen to see in the possession of another man a scrap
of paper covered with characters he does not understand, he will feel
uneasy as often as the mysterious writing occurs to him. Should he get
such a piece of paper into his own possession, he cherishes it fondly,
and takes care to conceal it from others.
In consequence of this widely-diffused superstition, travellers have
passed safely through large tracts of country, meeting with various
tribes of Arabs, all at variance with each other, in true Arab fashion,
and yet have managed to propitiate them by the simple process of
writing a sentence or two of any language on a scrap of paper. One
favorite form of the “saphiès,” as these written charms are called,
exhibits a curious mixture of medicine and literature. A man who is
ill, or who wants a charm to prevent him from being ill, brings to the
saphiè writer a smooth board, a pen and ink. The saphiè is written on
the board, and the happy possessor takes it home, washes off every
vestige of the writing, and then drinks the blackened water.
Even at the present day, the whole of the Arabian tribes have the full
and implicit belief in the Jinns, Efreets, Ghouls, and other superhuman
beings, that forms the chief element in the “Arabian Nights.” This
belief is inbred with them, and no amount of education can drive it out
of them. They do not parade this belief, nor try to conceal it, but
accept the existence of these beings as an acknowledged fact which no
one would dream of disputing.
According to their ideas, every well has its peculiar spirit, mostly
an efreet or semi-evil genius, and every old tower is peopled with
them, and there is scarcely a house that has not at least one spirit
inmate. Many of the Arabs say that they have seen and conversed with
the efreets, and relate very curious adventures. Generally, the efreet
is harmless enough, if he be only let alone, but sometimes he becomes
so troublesome that strong measures must be used. What was done in the
way of exorcism before the discovery of fire-arms is not known, but in
the present day, when an efreet can be seen, he can be destroyed by a
bullet as if he were a human being.
Mr. Lane relates a most curious story of such an encounter. It is so
interesting, and is so well told, that nothing but our very limited
space prevents its insertion. The gist of it, however, is as follows:--
An European lady had been looking after a house in Cairo, and at last
had found a very handsome one, with a large garden, for a very low
rent--scarcely more than £12 per annum. She took the house, which
pleased her well enough, though it did not have the same effect on
the maid-servants, all of whom left it as soon as possible. At last
the reason came out. The house was haunted by an efreet, which lived
mostly in the bath, and at night used to go about the house, banging
at the doors, knocking against the walls, and making such a perpetual
riot that he had frightened tenant after tenant out of it, and kept the
house to himself. The family had heard the noises, but attributed them
to the festivities which had been going on for some time at the next
house.
In spite of the change of servants, the noises continued, and rather
increased than decreased in violence. “Very frequently the door of
the room in which we were sitting, late in the evening within two or
three hours of midnight, was violently knocked at many short intervals.
At other times it seemed as if something very heavy fell upon the
pavement, close under the windows of the same room or one adjoining;
and, as these rooms were on the top of the house, we imagined at first
that some stones or other things had been thrown by a neighbor, but
we could find nothing outside after the noise I have mentioned. The
usual sounds continued during the greater part of the night, and were
generally varied with a heavy tramping, like the walking of a person in
large clogs, varied by knocking at the doors of many of the apartments,
and at the large water-jars, which are placed in recesses in the
galleries.”
During the fast of Ramadhan the house was free from noises, as efreets
are supposed to be imprisoned during that season, but as soon as it was
over they recommenced with added violence. After a while, the efreet
began to make himself visible, and a new door-keeper was greatly amazed
by hearing and seeing the figure walking nightly round the gallery. He
begged to be allowed to fire at it, and at last he was permitted to do
so, provided that he only used blank cartridge. The man, however, not
only put balls into his pistol, but loaded it with two bullets and a
double charge of powder. Just about midnight the report of the pistol
rang through the house, followed by the voice of the door-keeper,
crying out, “There he lies, the accursed!” and accompanied by sounds as
of a a wounded creature struggling and gasping for breath.
The man continued to call to his fellow-servants to come up, and the
master of the house ran at once to the spot. The door-keeper said that
the efreet had appeared in his usual shape, a tall white figure, and
on being asked to leave the house, refused to do so. He then passed as
usual down the passage, when the man fired at him and struck him down.
“Here,” said he, “are the remains.” So saying, he picked up, under the
spot where the bullets had entered the wall, a small mass of something
that looked like scorched leather, perforated by fire in several
places, and burnt to a cinder. This, it appears, is always the relic
which is left when an efreet is destroyed. Ever afterward the house was
free from disturbance.
The reader will notice the curious resemblance to the efreet stories
in the “Arabian Nights,” more especially to the story of the Second
Calender, in which the efreet and the princess who fought him were
both reduced to ashes. The idea, too, of the wells being inhabited by
efreets repeatedly occurs in those wonderful tales.
Another curious tale of the efreet was told to Mr. Taylor by an Arab of
some rank. He was walking one night near Cairo, when he saw a donkey
near him. The animal seemed to be without an owner, and, as he happened
to be rather tired, he mounted, and rode on his way pleasantly. In a
short time, however, he became startled by finding that the donkey
was larger than it was when he mounted it, and no sooner had he made
this discovery than the animal increased rapidly in size, and in a few
minutes was as large as a camel. Of course he was horribly frightened,
but he remembered that a disguised efreet could be detected by wounding
him with a sharp instrument. Accordingly, he cautiously drew his
dagger, and was about to plunge it into the animal’s back. The efreet,
however, was too clever for him, and, as soon as he saw the dagger,
suddenly shrunk to his former size, kicked off his rider, and vanished
with a peal of laughter and the exclamation, “Oh, you want to ride, do
you?”
According to the Arab belief, the spirit of man is bound to pass a
certain time on earth, and a natural death is the token of reaching
that time. Should he be killed by violence, his spirit haunts the spot
where his body was buried, and remains there until the term on earth
has been fulfilled. The same Arab told Mr. Taylor that for many years,
whenever he passed by night over the place where Napoleon defeated the
Mamelukes, the noise of battle was heard, the shouts of the soldiers,
the cries of the wounded, and the groans of the dying. At first the
sounds were loud, as of a multitude; but year by year they gradually
decreased, as the time of earthly sojourn expired, and at the time when
he told the story but few could be heard.
Among some of the tribes they have a rather odd superstition. A
traveller was struck with the tastefulness of a young girl’s headdress,
and wanted to buy it. She was willing enough to sell it for the liberal
price which was offered, but her father prohibited the sale, on the
ground that from the headdress could be made a charm which would force
the girl to fly to the possessor, no matter in what part of the world
he might be.
It is not wonderful that, saturated as they are with these ideas, many
of the wonders of nature appear to them to be of supernatural origin.
Chief among them is that extraordinary phenomenon, the mirage, in which
a place far below the horizon is suddenly made visible, and appears
to be close at hand. Even in our own country we have had examples of
the mirage, though not in so striking a manner as is often seen among
the sandy plains of Arabia. Water is a favorite subject of the mirage,
and the traveller, as he passes over the burning plains, sees before
him a rolling river or a vast lake, the palm trees waving on its edge
and reflected on its surface, and the little wavelets rippling along
as driven by the wind. Beasts as well as men see it, and it is hardly
possible to restrain the thirsty camels from rushing to the seeming
water.
The Arabs call the mirage, “Water of the Jinns,” and believe that it
is an illusion caused by the jinns--our old friends the geni of “The
Arabian Nights.” A very vivid account of this phenomenon is given in
St. John’s “Egypt and Nubia:”--
“I had been riding along in a reverie, when, chancing to raise my head,
I thought I perceived, desertward, a dark strip on the far horizon.
What could it be? My companion, who had very keen sight, was riding
in advance of me, and, with a sudden exclamation, he pulled up his
dromedary and gazed in the same direction. I called to him, and asked
him what he thought of yonder strip, and whether he could make out
anything in it distinctly. He answered that water had all at once
appeared there; that he saw the motion of the waves, and tall palms and
other trees bending up and down over them, as if tossed by a strong
wind. An Arab was at my side, with his face muffled up in his burnous;
I roused his attention, and pointed to the object of our inquiry.
‘Mashallah!’ cried the old man, with a face as if he had seen a ghost,
and stared with all his might across the desert.
“All the other Arabs of the party evinced no less emotion; and our
interpreter called out to us, that what we saw was the evil spirit
of the desert, that led travellers astray, luring them farther and
farther into the heart of the waste, ever retreating before them as
they pursued it, and not finally disappearing till its deluded victims
had irrecoverably lost themselves in the pathless sands. This, then,
was the mirage. My companion galloped toward it, and we followed him,
though the Arabs tried to prevent us, and erelong I could with my own
eyes discern something of this strange phenomenon. It was, as my friend
reported, a broad sheet of water, with fresh green trees along its
banks; and yet there was nothing actually before us but parched yellow
sand. The apparition occasioned us all very uncomfortable feelings,
and yet we congratulated ourselves in having seen for once the desert
wonder.
“The phenomenon really deserves the name the Arabs give it, of Goblin
of the Desert; an evil spirit that beguiles the wanderer from the safe
path, and mocks him with a false show of what his heated brain paints
in glowing colors. Whence comes it that this illusion at first fills
with uneasiness--I might even say with dismay--those even who ascribe
its existence to natural causes? On a spot where the bare sands spread
out for hundreds of miles, where there is neither tree nor shrub, nor a
trace of water, there suddenly appeared before us groups of tall trees,
proudly girdling the running stream, on whose waves we saw the sunbeams
dancing. Hills clad in pleasant green rose before us and vanished;
small houses, and towns with high walls and ramparts, were visible
among the trees, whose tall boles swayed to and fro in the wind like
reeds.
“Far as we rode in the direction of the apparition, we never came any
nearer to it; the whole seemed to recoil step by step with our advance.
We halted, and remained long in contemplation of the magic scene,
until whatever was unpleasant in its strangeness ceased by degrees to
affect us. Never had I seen any landscape so vivid as this seeming one,
never water so bright, or trees so softly green, so tall and stately.
Everything seemed far more charming there than in the real world; and
so strongly did we feel this attraction that, although we were not
driven by thirst to seek for water where water there was none, still
we would willingly have followed on and on after the phantom; and thus
we could well perceive how the despairing wanderer, who with burning
eyes thinks he gazes on water and human dwellings, will struggle onward
to his last gasp to reach them, until his fearful, lonely doom befalls
him.” This singular illusion and its effect upon travellers is well
illustrated by the artist, on the 679th page.
“We returned slowly to our Arabs, who had not stirred from the spot
where we left them. Looking back once more into the desert, we saw the
apparition gradually becoming fainter, until at last it melted away
into a dim land, not unlike a thin mist sweeping over the face of a
field (Hochländer). It was probably this phenomenon, which is beheld
as well in Hadramaut and Yemen as in the deserts of Egypt, which gave
rise to the fable of the Garden of Irem, described in the story of the
Phantom Camel, in the ‘Tales of the Ramad’han.’”
I cannot part from the Arab superstitions without mentioning one which
is of very great antiquity, and which has spread itself widely over the
world. I allude to the celebrated ink-mirror of the Arab magicians, in
which they see, through the eyes of another, the events of the future
and the forms of persons far distant.
The mirror is made as follows:--The magician calls a very young boy,
not old enough, according to their ideas, to be tainted with sin, and
makes him sit on the ground. The magician sits opposite him, holding
the boy’s opened right hand in his, and after repeating prayers, and
burning incense, he draws a crossed square on the palm of the hand--thus
-|-|-
-|-|-
--writes cabalistic words in all the angles, and pours about a spoonful
of ink into the centre. More prayers and suffumigations follow, and the
boy is then directed to look closely into the ink. Should he be really
pure, and a fit subject for the magic art, he sees a series of figures,
always beginning with a man sweeping the ground, and ending with a
camp, with the sultan’s tent and flag in the centre. These vanish, and
the mirror is left clear for any figure which may be invoked.
All parties seem to have the most implicit belief in the proceeding;
and though several boys in succession may fail to see anything but the
reflection of their own faces, the failure is set down to their bad
moral character, and others are tried until one is found who possesses
the requisite vision. It is a curious fact that the magician himself
never pretends to this inner sight, the sins which he has committed
being an effectual hindrance. Educated Europeans have often witnessed
this curious ceremony, and have given different accounts of it. With
some it has been an utter failure, the boy evidently trying to deceive,
and inventing, according to his ability, scenes which are supposed to
be represented in the mirror. With others it has been as singular a
success, European scenes and persons have been described accurately
by the boy, though the greatest care was taken that no clue should be
given either to the magician or the boy.
MADAGASCAR.
We complete the account of African tribes with a brief notice of
some of the tribes which inhabit the island of Madagascar. For my
information I am chiefly indebted to Ellis’s well-known work, and
to a valuable paper read by Lieutenant Oliver, R. A., before the
Anthropological Society of London. on March 3, 1868.
The name of Madagascar is entirely of European invention, the native
name for this great island being Nosindambo, _i. e._ the island of wild
hogs. The inhabitants are known by the general name of Malagasy, and
they are divided into several tribes. These tribes differ from each
other in their color, mode of dress, and other particulars, and may be
roughly divided according to their color into the fair and the dark
tribes, each consisting of four in number, and ranging through almost
every shade of skin, from the light olive of the Hovas to the black
tribes of the south. According to Ellis the entire population is only
three millions, while Lieutenant Oliver, who gives the approximate
numbers of each tribe, estimates them at five millions.
The origin of the Malagasy is rather obscure, and, although so close
to the continent of Africa, they have scarcely anything in common with
the African races. The hypothesis which has been generally accepted
is that they are of Malay origin, their ancestors having been in all
probability blown out to sea in their canoes, and eventually landed on
the island. That they are not of African origin has been argued from
several points, while they have many habits belonging to the oceanic
race. For example, although they are so close to Africa, they have
never adopted the skin dresses which are generally found throughout the
savage races of the continent, but, on the contrary, make use of the
hibiscus bark beaten out exactly after the fashion of the Polynesians.
“It is evident,” writes Lieutenant Oliver, “that the Malagasy have
never deteriorated from any original condition of civilization,
for there are no relics of primæval civilization to be found in
the country. Yet the Malagasy seem to have considerably advanced
themselves in the art of building houses, and originating elaborate
fortifications, which they have themselves modified to suit their
offensive and defensive weapons, previous to any known intercourse
with civilized people. They had domesticated oxen, and pigs, and made
advances in the cultivation of rice, yams, &c.; but whether by their
own unaided intellect, or by external example, we cannot say.”
With regard to the domestication of cattle, they themselves refer
it to a very recent date, and even state that the use of beef was
accidentally discovered during the last century. A chief named Rabiby
was superintending the planting of his rice, when he noticed that one
of his men was remarkable for his increase in strength and corpulence,
and interrogated him on the subject. The man told him that some time
previously he happened to kill a bullock, and had the curiosity to
cook some of the meat. Finding it to be remarkably good, he continued
to kill and eat, and so improved his bodily condition. Rabiby very
wisely tried the experiment for himself, and, finding it successful,
had a bullock killed, and gave a feast to his companions. The general
impression was so favorable that he gave orders for building folds in
which the cattle might be collected, and he further extended the native
diet by the flesh of the wild hog. The original folds built by his
orders are still in existence.
Chief among the Malagasy are the HOVA tribe, who have gradually
extended themselves over a considerable portion of the island, and are
now virtually its masters. They are the lightest in color of all the
tribes, and have more of the Spanish than the negro expression. The
hair is black, long, and abundant, and is worn in several fashions. The
men usually cut the hair rather short, and arrange it over the forehead
and temples much after the style that was prevalent in the days of the
Regency. The women spend much time over their hair, sometimes frizzing
it out until they remind the spectator of the Fiji race, and sometimes
plaiting it into an infinity of braids, and tying them in small knots
or bunches all over the head.
Their dress has something of the Abyssinian type. Poor people wear
little except a cloth twisted round their loins, while the more wealthy
wear a shirt covered with a mantle called a lamba. This article of
apparel is disposed as variously as the Abyssinian’s tobe. The Hovas
are distinguished by having their lambas edged with a border of five
broad stripes. Their houses, to which allusion has already been made,
are formed exclusively of vegetable materials. The walls are formed
by driving rows of posts into the ground at unequal distances, and
filling in the spaces with the strong leaf-stalks of the “traveller’s
tree.” Each leaf-stalk is about ten feet in length, and they are fixed
in their places by flat laths. The roof is thatched with the broad
leaves of the same tree, tied firmly on the very steep rafters. The
eaves project well beyond the walls, so as to form a veranda round the
house, under which the benches are placed. The floor is covered with a
sort of boarding made of the traveller’s tree. The bark is stripped off
and beaten flat, so as to form boards of twenty feet or so in length,
and fifteen inches in width. These boards are laid on the floor, and,
although they are not nailed, they keep their places firmly.
[Illustration: TRAVELLING IN MADAGASCAR. (See page 693.)]
This traveller’s tree is one of the most useful plants in Madagascar.
It is a sort of palm, and its broad leaves, besides supplying thatch
and walls for the houses, furnish a copious supply of fresh water. The
water is found in the hollow formed by the manner in which the base of
the leaf-stem embraces the trunk from which it springs, and the liquid
is obtained by piercing the leaf-stem with a spear. A full quart of
water is obtained from each leaf, and it is so pure that the natives
will rather walk a little distance to a traveller’s tree, than supply
themselves with water from a stream at their feet.
The Malagasy have some knowledge of musical sounds, and have invented
some instruments which are far superior to those of the African tribes.
One of the best is the violin. It is played with a bow equally rude
in character, and, although the sounds which it produces are not
particularly harmonious to English ears, they are at all events quite
as agreeable as those produced by the stringed instruments of China,
Japan, or Turkey.
Slavery exists among the Malagasy, but is not of a very severe
character, and may possibly, through the exertions of the missionaries,
become extinguished altogether. The slaves do all the hard work of the
place, which is really not very hard, and, as they take plenty of time
over everything that they do, their work would be thought very light by
an ordinary English laborer. Drawing water is perhaps the hardest labor
the female slaves undergo, and it is not such very hard work after all.
They draw the water by means of cows’ horns tied to ropes, and pour it
into ingenious pails made of bamboo. The hardest work which the men
do is acting as bearer to their master’s hammock or litter, and, as
the roads often lie through uncleared forests, and are very rough and
rocky, they have a fatiguing task. These litters are very convenient,
and are covered with a roof to shield the occupant from the sun. They
are rather unwieldy, and sometimes as many as twenty or thirty men are
attached to each litter, some bearing the poles on their shoulders, and
others dragging it by ropes, while the whole proceedings are directed
by a superintendent. The engraving on the preceding page illustrates
the mode of travelling in Madagascar.
Within the last few years, Christianity has made wonderful progress
among the Malagasy, although at first missionaries were driven out,
and the native converts put to death with frightful tortures. The old
superstitions, however, still remain, but they are of a more harmless
character than is generally the case with the superstitions of a
people who are only beginning to emerge out of the savage state. All
reptiles, especially snakes, are regarded with great veneration.
Whether any of the serpents are poisonous is not clearly ascertained,
though the natives deny that venomous snakes are found on the island.
Be this as it may, they never kill a snake, and, even if a large
serpent should come into their house, they merely guide it through the
doorway with sticks, telling it to go away.
They do not appear to possess idols, though Mr. Ellis found certain
objects to which a sort of worship was paid. These were simply “pieces
of wood about nine feet high, not square and smooth at the base, but
spreading into two or three branches at about five feet from the
ground, and gradually tapering to a point.” Near them was a large
basaltic stone, about five feet high, and of its natural prismatic
form, and near it was another stone, smooth and rounded, and about as
large as a man’s head. The natives said that blood was poured on one
stone, and fat burned on the other, but they were very averse to any
conversation on the subject, and very probably did not tell the truth.
Some of their domestic superstitions--if we may use such a term--are
rather curious. Mr. Ellis had noticed that on several occasions a spot
of white paint had been placed on the forehead, or a white circle drawn
round the eye. One morning, he found these marks adorning nearly the
whole of his bearers. On inquiring into the cause of this decoration,
he found that it was a charm to avert the consequences of bad dreams.
As, however, they had partaken copiously of beef on the preceding
evening, the cause of the bad dreams was clearly more material than
spiritual.
Partly connected with their superstitious ideas is the existence of
a distinct class, the Zanakambony. They are hereditary blacksmiths,
and are exempt from forced labor except in their own line, so that,
as Lieutenant Oliver writes, they will make a spade, but cannot be
compelled to use it. They have the right of carrying deceased kings
to the grave, and building monuments over them. They are very proud,
and behave most arrogantly to other clans, refusing to associate with
them, to eat with them, or even to lend them any article to be defiled
by the touch of plebeian hands. As they will not even condescend to
the ordinary labor of their countrymen, and think that even to build a
house is a degradation, they are very poor; as they refuse to associate
with others, they are very ignorant, but they console themselves for
their inferiority in wealth and learning by constantly dwelling on
their enormous superiority in rank.
CHAPTER LXIX.
AUSTRALIA.
THE NATIVE AUSTRALIANS -- THE GENERAL CONFORMATION OF THE HEAD AND
FEATURES -- THEIR AVERAGE STATURE AND FORM -- THE WOMEN AND THEIR
APPEARANCE -- CHARACTER OF THE NATIVES -- THEIR THIEVISH PROPENSITIES
-- THEIR CUNNING, AND POWER OF DISSIMULATION -- A PAIR OF CLEVER
THIEVES -- THE “GOOD NATIVE” -- A CLEVER OLD WOMAN -- INCENTIVES TO
ROBBERY -- HIDEOUS ASPECT OF THE OLD WOMEN -- A REPULSIVE SUBJECT
FOR AN ARTIST -- YOUNGER WOMEN OF SAME TRIBE -- THEIR STRANGE DRESS
-- THE CIRCULAR MAT CLOAK AND ITS USES -- THE NATIVE BASKET --
TREACHEROUS CHARACTER OF THE NATIVES -- MR. BAINES’S NARRATIVE -- THE
OUTRIGGER CANOE OF NORTH AUSTRALIA, AND ITS PROBABLE ORIGIN -- PIPE,
AND MODE OF SMOKING -- THE MAMMALS OF AUSTRALIA, AND THEIR MARSUPIAL
CHARACTER -- CONFUSION OF NOMENCLATURE -- EFFECT OF THE ANIMALS ON
THE HUMAN INHABITANTS OF THE COUNTRY -- PRIMARY USE OF WEAPONS.
Following up the principle of taking the least civilized races in
succession, we naturally pass to the great continent of Australia and
its adjacent islands.
This wonderful country holds a sort of isolated position on the
earth, owing to the curious contrast which reigns between it and all
the lands with which we are familiar. It is situated, as my readers
will see by reference to a map, just below the equator, and extends
some forty degrees southward, thus having at its northern extremity a
heat which is tropical, and at its southern point a climate as cold
as our own. But there is perhaps no country where the temperature is
so variable as Australia, and there is one instance recorded where
the thermometer registered a change of fifty degrees in twenty-five
minutes. This sudden change is owing to the winds, which if they blow
from the sea are cool, but if they blow toward the coast, after passing
over the heated sand-wastes of the interior, raise the temperature in
the extraordinary manner which has been mentioned. Still, the climate,
changeable though it be, is a pleasant one; and the colonists who
visit England nearly always grumble at the damp climate of the mother
country, and long to be back again in Australia. Both the animal and
vegetable products of this country are strangely unlike those of other
lands, but, as we shall have occasion to describe them in the course of
the following pages, they will not be mentioned at present; and we will
proceed at once to the human inhabitants of Australia.
* * * * *
It is exceedingly difficult, not to say impossible, to treat of the
aborigines of Australia with much accuracy of system. Differing as do
the tribes with which we are acquainted in many minor particulars, they
all agree in general characteristics: and, whether a native be taken
from the north or south of the vast Australian continent, there is a
similitude of habits and a cast of features which point him out at once
as an Australian.
The plan that will be adopted will therefore be to give a general
sketch of the natives, together with an account of those habits in
which they agree, and then to glance over as much of Australia as
travellers have laid open to us, and to mention briefly the most
interesting of the manners and customs which exist in the several
tribes.
* * * * *
In color the Australians are quite black, as dark indeed as the negro,
but with nothing of the negro character in the face. The forehead
does not recede like that of the negro; and though the nose is wide,
the mouth large, and the lips thick, there is none of that projection
of jaw which renders the pure negro face so repulsive. The eye is
small, dark, and, being deeply sunken, it gives to the brows a heavy,
overhanging sort of look. The hair is by no means close and woolly,
like that of the negro, but is plentiful, rather long, and disposed
to curl, mostly undulating, and sometimes even taking the form of
ringlets. In texture it is very coarse and harsh, but cannot be
described as wool.
The beard and moustache are very thick and full, and the men take a
pride in these ornaments, sometimes twisting the beard into curious
shapes. Indeed, as a rule they are a hairy race. There is now before
me a large collection of photographs of native Australians, in many of
which the men are remarkable for the thickness of the beard, and some
of them have their faces so heavily bearded that scarcely the nose
is perceptible among the mass of hair that covers the cheeks nearly
up to the eyes. Several of the elder men are very remarkable for the
development of the hair, which covers the whole of the breast and arms
with a thick coating of pile, and looks as if they were clothed with
a tightly-fitting fur garment. The illustration No. 1, on the 698th
page, will give a good idea of the features of the Australian. It is
exactly copied from photographic portraits; and although the subjects
have disfigured themselves by putting on European dress, and the woman
has actually combed her hair, the general cast of the features is well
preserved.
In stature the Australian is about equal to that of the average
Englishman--say five feet eight inches, although individuals much below
and above this height may be seen. The bodily form of the Australian
savages is good, and their limbs well made. There are several
well-known drawings of Australians, which have been widely circulated
on account of their grotesqueness, and which have been accepted as the
ordinary form of this curious people, and they have given the idea that
the native Australian is distinguished by a very large head, a very
small body, and very long and attenuated limbs; in fact, that he is to
the European what the spider-monkey is to the baboon.
Such drawings are, however, only taken from exceptional cases, and
give no idea of the real contour of the native Australian. Indeed, Mr.
Pickering, who traversed the greater part of the world in search of
anthropological knowledge, writes in very strong terms of the beautiful
forms which can be seen among these natives. “The general form, though
sometimes defective, seemed on the average better than that of the
negro, and I did not find the undue slenderness of limb which has been
commonly attributed to the Australians. Strange as it may appear, I
would refer to an Australian as the finest model of human proportions I
have ever met with, in muscular development combining perfect symmetry,
activity, and strength; while his head might have compared with an
antique bust of a philosopher.”
Those of my readers who happened to see the native Australians that
came over to England as cricketers and athletes in general must have
noticed the graceful forms for which some of the men were remarkable,
while all were possessed of great elegance of limb.
The disadvantageous effect of European clothing on the dark races
was well shown in these men, who seemed to undergo a positive
transformation when they laid aside their ordinary clothes for a
costume which represented, as far as possible, the light and airy
apparel of the native Australian. Dressed in gray, or clad in the
cricketer’s costume, there was nothing remarkable about them, and in
fact they seemed to be very ordinary persons indeed. But with their
clothes they threw off their commonplace look, and, attired only in
tight “fleshings,” dyed as nearly as possible the color of their black
skins, with a piece of fur wrapped round their loins and a sort of
fur cap on their heads, they walked with a proud, elastic step that
contrasted strangely with their former gait.
It may perhaps be said that this change of demeanor was only the
natural result of removing the heavy clothing and giving freedom to
the limbs. This was not the case, for several professional English
athletes contended with the Australians, and, when they came to run or
leap, wore the usual light attire of the professional acrobat. In them,
however, no such improvement took place, and, if anything, they looked
better in their ordinary dress.
The women are, as a rule, much inferior to the men in appearance. Even
when young, although they possess symmetrical forms, their general
appearance is not nearly so pleasing as that of the young African girl,
and, when the woman becomes old, she is, if possible, even more hideous
and hag-like than the African. This deterioration may partly be due to
the exceedingly hard life led by the women, or “gins”--in which word,
by the way, the _g_ is pronounced hard as in “giddy.” That they have
to do all the hard work, and to carry all the heavy weights, including
the children, while their husbands sit or sleep, or, if on the march,
burden themselves with nothing more weighty than their weapons, is to
be expected, as it is the universal practice among natives. But it is
not so much the hard work as the privation which tells upon the woman,
who is treated with the same contemptuous neglect with which a savage
treats his dog, and, while her husband, father, or brother, is feasting
on the game which she has cooked, thinks herself fortunate if they now
and then toss a nearly cleaned bone or a piece of scorched meat to her.
Like most savages, the Australian natives are adroit and daring
thieves, displaying an amount of acuteness in carrying out their
designs which would do honor to the most expert professional thief of
London or Paris. In his interesting work entitled “Savage Life and
Scenes,” Mr. G. F. Angas has related several anecdotes respecting this
propensity.
“Leaving Rivoli Bay, we fell in with two very droll natives, the only
ones who had made bold to approach our camp; both were in a state of
nudity. One of these fellows was a perfect supplejack; he danced and
capered about as though he were filled with quicksilver. We mounted
them on horses, from which they were continually tumbling off, and they
travelled with us all day.
“When we encamped at an old resting-place, near Lake Howden, they, by
signs, requested permission to remain by our fires, which we allowed
them to do, and gave them for supper the head and refuse of a sheep
that was just killed and hung up to a tree near the tents. They showed
great surprise on seeing our various utensils and articles of cookery.
So modest and well-behaved did these artful gentlemen appear, that they
would not touch the slightest article of food without first asking
permission by signs; and they so far gained our confidence that one
of them was adorned with a tin plate, suspended round his neck by a
string, on which was inscribed ‘Good Native.’
“In the dead of the night we were all aroused by the unusual barking of
the dogs. At first it was supposed that the wild dogs were ‘rushing’
the sheep; but as the tumult increased, the Sergeant-Major unwrapped
his opossum rug, and looked around for his hat, to go and ascertain the
cause of the disturbance. To his surprise, he found that his hat had
vanished. The hat of his companion, who lay next him near the fire,
was also nowhere to be found; and, casting his eyes to the spot where
the sheep hung suspended from the tree, he saw in a moment that our
fond hopes for to-morrow’s repast were blighted, for the sheep too had
disappeared. The whole camp was roused, when it was ascertained that
forks, spoons, and the contents of the Governor’s canteen, pannikins
and other articles, were likewise missing, and that our two remarkably
docile natives had left us under cover of the night.
“A council of war was held. Black Jimmy protested that it was useless
to follow their tracks until the morning, and that from the nature of
the country they had doubtless taken to the swamps, walking in the
water, so that pursuit was in vain. We had been completely duped by
these artful and clever fellows, who probably had a large party of
their colleagues lying in ambush amid the surrounding swamps, ready to
assist in carrying away the stolen property. Retaliation was useless;
and we contented ourselves by giving utterance to our imprecations and
commenting on the audacity and cunning of the rogues until daybreak.”
Another instance of theft--in this case single-handed--occurred not
long before the robbery which has just been recorded. While the
exploring party was on the march, they fell in with a number of
natives who were cooking their food.
“At our approach, they flew down the descent, and hid among the
bulrushes; but one old woman, unable to escape as speedily as the rest,
finding flight useless, began to chatter very loud and fast, pointing
to her blind eye, and her lean and withered arms, as objects of
commiseration. Damper was given to her and she continued in terror to
chew it very fast without swallowing any, until she was almost choked;
when suddenly she got hold of Gisborne’s handkerchief and made off with
it. With a vigorous leap she plunged into the mud and reeds beneath,
effecting her escape by crawling into the swamp and joining her wild
companions, to whom she doubtless recounted her adventures that night
over a dish of fried tadpoles.”
The dish of fried tadpoles, to which allusion has been made, is quite a
luxury among this wretched tribe, and, when the exploring party pushed
on to the spot where the people had been cooking, it was found that
they had been engaged in roasting a dish of water-beetles over a fire.
It is impossible to withhold admiration for the skill displayed by
these sable thieves in stealing the property which they coveted, and,
in excuse for them, it must be remembered that the articles which were
stolen were to the blacks of inestimable value. Food and ornaments are
coveted by the black man as much as wealth and titles by the white man,
and both these articles were ready to hand. The temptation to which
these poor people was exposed seems very trifling to us, but we must
measure it, not from our own point of view, but from theirs.
The strange visitors who so suddenly appeared among them possessed
abundance of the very things which were dearest to them. There was a
whole sheep, which would enable them to enjoy the greatest luxury of
which they could form any notion, _i. e._ eating meat to repletion; and
there was store of glittering objects which could be worn as ornaments,
and would dignify them forever in the eyes of their fellows. The happy
possessor of a spoon, a fork, or a tin plate, which would be hung
round the neck and kept highly polished, would be exalted above his
companions like a newly ennobled man among ourselves, and it should not
be expected that such an opportunity, which could never again be looked
for, would be allowed to pass. The temptation to them was much as would
be a title and a fortune among ourselves, and there are many civilized
men who have done worse than the savage Australian when tempted by such
a bait.
Reference has been made to the haggard appearance of the old woman who
so ingeniously stole the handkerchief, the love of finery overcoming
the dread of the white man in spite of her age and hideous aspect,
which would only be made more repulsive by any attempt at ornament. It
is scarcely possible to imagine the depths of ugliness into which an
Australian woman descends after she has passed the prime of her life.
As we have seen, the old woman of Africa is singularly hideous, but she
is quite passable when compared with her aged sister of Australia.
[Illustration: (1.) AUSTRALIAN MAN AND WOMAN. (See page 695.)]
[Illustration: (2.) WOMEN AND OLD MAN OF THE LOWER MURRAY AND THE LAKES.
(See page 699.)]
The old Australian woman certainly does not possess the projecting
jaws, the enormous mouth, and the sausage-like lips of the African, but
she exhibits a type of hideousness peculiarly her own. Her face looks
like a piece of black parchment strained tightly over a skull, and the
mop-like, unkempt hair adds a grotesque element to the features which
only makes them still more repulsive. The breasts reach to the waist,
flat, pendent, and swinging about at every movement; her body is so
shrunken that each rib stands out boldly, the skin being drawn deeply
in between them, and the limbs shrivel up until they look like sticks,
the elbows and knees projecting like knots in a gnarled branch.
Each succeeding year adds to the hideous look of these poor creatures,
because the feebleness of increasing years renders them less and
less useful; and accordingly they are neglected, ill-treated, and
contemptuously pushed aside by those who are younger and stronger than
themselves, suffering in their turn the evils which in their youth they
carelessly inflicted on those who were older and feebler.
Mr. Angas has among his sketches one which represents a very old woman
of the Port Fairy tribe. They had built their rude huts or miam-miams
under some gum-trees, and very much disgusted the exploring party by
their hideous appearance and neglected state. There was one old woman
in particular, who exemplified strongly all the characteristics which
have just been described; and so surpassingly hideous, filthy, and
repulsive was she, that she looked more like one of the demoniacal
forms that Callot was so fond of painting than a veritable human
creature. Indeed, so very disgusting was her appearance, that one of
the party was made as ill as if he had taken an emetic.
Not wishing to shock my readers by the portrait of this wretched
creature, I have introduced on page preceding, two younger females of
the same tribe.
The remarkable point about this and one or two other tribes of the
same locality and the neighborhood, is the circular mat which is tied
on their backs, and which is worn by both sexes. The mat is made of
reeds twisted into ropes, coiled round, and fastened together very much
as the archer’s targets of the present day are made. The fibres by
which the reed ropes are bound together are obtained from the chewed
roots of the bulrush. The native name for this mat is _paingkoont_.
One of the women appears in her ordinary home dress, _i. e._ wearing
the paingkoont and her baby, over whose little body she has thrown a
piece of kangaroo skin. The mat makes a very good cradle for the child,
which, when awake and disposed to be lively, puts its head over the
mat and surveys the prospect, but when alarmed pops down and hides
itself like a rabbit disappearing into its burrow. The old woman, whose
portrait is withheld, was clothed in the paingkoont, and wore no other
raiment, so that the full hideousness of her form was exposed to view.
The woman standing opposite is just starting upon a journey. She is
better clad than her companion, having beside the paingkoont a rude
sort of petticoat. On her back she has slung the net in which she
places the roots which she is supposed to dig out of the ground, and,
thrust through the end which ties it, she carries the digging-stick, or
katta, which serves her for a spade. She has in her hand the invariable
accompaniment of a journey,--namely, the fire-stick, smouldering amid
dry grass between two pieces of bark, and always ready to be forced
into a flame by whirling it round her head.
Behind them is seated an old man, also wearing the mat-cloak, and
having by his side one of the beautifully constructed native baskets.
These baskets are made, like the mat, of green rushes or reeds, and
are plaited by the women. One of these baskets is illustrated in an
engraving on the 722d page. The reader will doubtless observe that the
mode of plaiting it is almost identical with that which is employed by
the natives of Southern Africa, the rushes being twisted and coiled
upon each other and bound firmly together at short intervals by strong
fibrous threads. They are rather variable in shape; some, which are
intended to stand alone, being flat-bottomed, and others, which are
always suspended by a string, ending in a point.
In common with other savage races, the Australians are apt to behave
treacherously to the white man when they find themselves able to do
so with impunity. This behavior is not always the result of ferocity
or cruelty, though an Australian can on occasion be as fierce and
cruel as any savage. Oftentimes it is the result of fear, the black
people standing in awe of the white stranger and his deadly weapons,
and availing themselves of their native cunning to deprive him of his
unfair advantages as soon as possible.
Ignorant of the object of travel, and having from infancy been
accustomed to consider certain districts as the property of certain
tribes, and any man who intruded into the district of another as an
enemy, it is but natural that when they see, especially for the first
time, a man of different color from themselves travelling through
the country, such strangers must necessarily be enemies, come for the
purpose of using against the aborigines the weapons which they possess.
Again, a feeling of acquisitiveness has much to do with the treachery.
Add to their ideas of the inimical character of the strangers the
cupidity that must be excited by the sight of the valuable property
brought into their country by those whom they consider as enemies
delivered into their hand, and there is no reason for wonder that they
should take both the lives and the property of the strangers, and thus
secure the valued trophies of war at the same time that they rid their
country of strange and powerful enemies, and attain at one stroke an
amount of wealth which they could not hope to gain through the labors
of a life.
This phase of their character is well shown by Mr. T. Baines, in a
letter which he has kindly allowed me to transfer to these pages. He
was one of an exploring expedition, which had also undertaken to convey
a number of sheep and horses. “While making the inner passage along the
coast, we fell in with several canoes, some of very rude construction,
being in fact mere logs capable of carrying a couple of men, who,
perhaps in terror of the telescopes pointed at them, did not approach
us.
“Others were of greater size and power, being large hollowed logs,
very straight and narrow, and steadied on either side by other logs,
pointed at the ends, and acting as outriggers, neatly enough attached
by pegs driven into them through a framing of bamboo. Others again were
strictly double canoes, two of the narrow vessels being connected by
a bamboo platform so as to lie parallel to each other at some little
distance apart.
“They were manned by crews of from six to twelve, or even more in
number, all tolerably fine fellows, perfectly naked, with shock heads
of woolly hair and scanty beards. They were ornamented with scars and
raised cicatrices tastefully cut on their shoulder and elsewhere. They
were armed with long spears, some of them tipped with wood, others
with bone, and having from one to four points. They also had bows and
arrows, as well as their curious paddles, the looms of which were
barbed and pointed, so as to be useful as spears. When these weapons
were thrown at a fish, the owner always plunged into the water after
his weapon, so as to secure the fish the moment that it was struck.
“Their arrival caused various emotions among our party. One gentleman
ruined his revolver by hurriedly trying to load it, while a little
girl, so far from being afraid of them, traded with them for almost
everything they had in their canoes. Just as they dropped astern after
reaching us, the captain’s little daughters were being bathed in a tub
on the main-hatch, and, naturally enough, jumped out of their bath, and
ran aft wet and glistening in the sunlight, to hide themselves from the
strange black fellows who were stretching themselves to look over our
low bulwarks at the little naked white girls.
“We bought spears, bows, arrows, tortoise-shell, &c., for hats,
handkerchiefs, and other things; and they were greatly interested in
the white baby, which, at their express request, was held up for them
to look at.”
Up to this point we find the natives mild and conciliatory, but we
proceed with the letter, and find an unexpected change in their
demeanor.
“We had here an instance of the capriciousness of the natives. We met
about a dozen on shore, and endeavored by all friendly signs to induce
them to come to terms with us. We showed them that we had no guns, but
our attempts were useless. They fell into regular battle array, with
their long spears ready shipped on the throwing sticks, six standing
in front, and the rest acting as supports behind. As it was unsafe to
parley longer, we mounted our horses, and again tried to make them
understand that we wished to be on friendly terms. It was all useless,
and the only thing that we could do was to ride straight at them. They
ran like antelopes, and gained the thick bush where we could not follow
them. B---- wanted to shoot one of them, but I would not allow it.
“The prospect of killing and eating our horses seemed to be their great
temptation. They made constant war upon our stud for a fortnight or
three weeks, in my camp at Depôt Creek, and I had to patrol the country
with B---- daily, to keep them from ringing the horses round with fire.
“The character of the Australian canoe-men is variously spoken of, some
reporting them as good-natured and peaceable, while others say that
they are treacherous and savage. Both speak the truth from their own
experience. A fellow artist, who generally landed from a man-of-war’s
boat, with the ship in the offing, found them peaceable enough, but
poor Mr. Strange, the naturalist, was murdered on one of the islands.
“While we were on board our vessels, they were quite friendly; and
even during my boat’s voyage of 750 miles, while we had a dashing
breeze and the boat well under command, we found the groups we met with
civil enough. But when we were helplessly becalmed at the entrance
of the Gulf of Carpentaria, and supposed by the natives to be the
unarmed survivors of some vessel wrecked in Torres Straits, we were
deliberately and treacherously attacked.
“We watched the preparations for nearly an hour through the telescope,
and refrained from giving them the slightest ground even to suspect
that we looked on them otherwise than as friends. As soon as they
thought they had us in their power, they began to throw spears at us,
so I put a rifle-bullet through the shoulder of the man who threw at
us, to teach him the danger of interfering with supposed helpless
boats, but did not fire again. The wounded man was led on shore by one
of his mates, and we were not molested again.
“These people are very capricious. They have the cunning and the strong
passions of men, but in reason they are only children. Life is not held
sacred by them, and, when their thirst for blood is raised, they revel
in cruelty.”
These Australian canoes, with outriggers attached, indicate a
Polynesian origin, as indeed do the bows and arrows, which will be
fully described on a future page. The tobacco pipes in use in that
part of Australia are curious. One form consists of a hollow tube as
thick as a man’s arm, stopped at the ends and having one hole near the
bottom into which is introduced the stem of a pipe, and another hole
near the top through which the smoke is imbibed. Their use of the pipe
is rather singular. When a party desires to smoke, the chief man lights
the pipe, places his mouth to the orifice, and continually inhales
until the interior of the hollow stem is filled with smoke. The bowl
is then removed, and the aperture stopped with a plug which is kept
in readiness. The first smoker closes with his thumb the hole through
which he has been imbibing the smoke, and passes the pipe to his
neighbor, who applies his lips to the hole, fills his lungs with smoke,
and then passes the pipe to the next man. In this way, the tobacco is
made to last as long as possible, and the greatest possible amount of
enjoyment is got out of the least possible amount of material. The
exterior of the stem is generally carved into the simple patterns which
are found on nearly all Australian weapons and implements.
* * * * *
Before proceeding further with the character and habits of the natives,
we will cast a glance at the country which they inhabit, and the
peculiarities which have contributed toward forming that character.
It is a very strange country, as strange to us as England would be to
a savage Australian. Its vegetable and animal productions are most
remarkable, and are so strange that when the earlier voyagers brought
back accounts of their travels they were not believed; and when they
exhibited specimens of the flora and fauna, they were accused of
manufacturing them for the purpose of deception.
In the first place, with a single exception, the mammalia are all
marsupials, or edentates. The solitary exception is the dingo, or
native dog, an animal which somewhat resembles the jackal, but is
altogether a handsomer animal. Whether it be indigenous, or a mere
variety of the dog modified by long residence in the country, is rather
doubtful, though the best zoölogists incline to the latter opinion,
and say that the marsupial type alone is indigenous to this strange
country. Of course the reader is supposed to know that the young of
a marsupial animal is born at a very early age, and attains its full
development in a supplementary pouch attached to the mother, into which
pouch the teats open.
The animal which is most characteristic of Australia is the kangaroo.
Of this singular type some forty species are known, varying in size
from that of a tall man to that of a mouse. Some of them are known as
kangaroos, and others as kangaroo-rats, but the type is the same in
all. As their form implies, they are made for leaping over the ground,
their enormously long legs and massive development of the hind quarters
giving them the requisite power, while their long tails serve to
balance them as they pass through the air.
Nearly all the so-called “rats” of Australia belong to the kangaroo
tribe, though some are members of other marsupial families. Here I
may mention that the nomenclature of the colonists has caused great
perplexity and labor to incipient zoölogists. They are told in some
books that the dingo is the only Australian animal that is not a
marsupial or an edentate, and yet they read in books of travel of the
bear, the monkey, the badger, the wolf, the cat, the squirrel, the
mole, and so forth. The fact is, that, with the natural looseness of
diction common to colonists all over the world, the immigrants have
transferred to their new country the nomenclature of the old. To the
great trouble of index-searchers, there is scarcely a part of the world
inhabited by our colonists where London, Oxford, Boston, and fifty
other places are not multiplied. The first large river they meet they
are sure to call the Thames, and it is therefore to be expected that
natural history should suffer in the same way as geography.
Thus, should, in the course of this account of Australia, the reader
come across a passage quoted from some traveller in which the monkey
or bear is mentioned, he must remember that the so-called “monkey” and
“bear” are identical, and that the animal in question is neither the
one nor the other, but a marsupial, known to the natives by the name
of koala, and, as if to add to the confusion of names, some travellers
call it the sloth.
The so-called “badger” is the wombat, probably called a badger because
it lives in holes which it burrows in the ground. The Australian “wolf”
is another marsupial, belonging to the Dasyures and the “cat” belongs
to the same group. The “squirrels” are all marsupials, and by rights
are called phalangists, and it is to this group that the koala really
belongs. As to the “hedgehog,” it is the spiny ant-eater or echidna,
and the “mole” is the celebrated duck-bill or ornithorhynchus.
With few exceptions these animals are not easily captured, many of them
being nocturnal, and hiding in burrows or hollow trees until the shades
of night conceal their movements; while others are so shy, active, and
watchful, that all the craft of the hunter must be tried before they
can be captured. Much the same may be said of the birds, the chief of
which, the emu, is nearly as large as an ostrich, and is much valued
by the natives as food. It is evident, therefore, that the existence
of these peculiar animals must exercise a strong influence on the
character of the natives, and must make them more active, wary, and
quicksighted than the creatures on which they live.
Possessing, as he does, the most minute acquaintance with every
vegetable which can afford him food, and even knowing where to obtain
a plentiful supply of food and water in a land where an European
could not find a particle of anything eatable, nor discover a drop of
moisture in the dry and parched expanse, the Australian native places
his chief reliance on animal food, and supports himself almost entirely
on the creatures which he kills. His appetite is very indiscriminate;
and although he prefers the flesh of the kangaroo and the pigeon, he
will devour any beast, bird, reptile, or fish, and will also eat a
considerable number of insects. Consequently the life of the Australian
savage is essentially one of warfare, not against his fellow-man, but
against the lower animals, and, as the reader will see in the course of
the following pages, the primary object of his weapons is the hunt, and
war only a secondary use to which they are directed.
CHAPTER LXX.
AUSTRALIA--_Continued_.
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE NATIVES -- DRESS AND ORNAMENTS OF NORTHERN
AUSTRALIA -- MODE OF DRESSING THE HAIR -- THE “DIBBI-DIBBI” --
TATTOOING AND CICATRIZING -- PATTERN OF THE SCARS -- SIGNIFICATION OF
THE VARIOUS PATTERNS -- POMP AND VANITY -- THE NOSE-BONE -- NECKLACES
-- THE GIRDLE AND TASSEL -- TATTOOS AND SCARS AMONG THE WOMEN -- THE
TURTLE SCAR -- HIGH SHOULDERS OF THE AUSTRALIANS -- INDIFFERENCE TO
DRESS -- THEIR FUR MANTLES, AND THEIR USES -- THE SEA-GRASS MANTLE --
FOOD OF THE AUSTRALIANS -- VEGETABLE FOOD -- MODE OF PROCURING ROOTS
-- THE BIYU -- THE NARDOO PLANT AND ITS USES -- THE “BURKE AND WILLS”
EXPEDITION -- THE BULRUSH ROOT, ITS USE FOR FOOD AND ROPE MAKING --
SUBTERRANEAN WATER STORES -- MOLLUSCS, AND MODE OF COLLECTING THEM
-- HARD WORK FOR THE WOMEN -- DIVING FROM THE RAFT -- RELAXATION
WHEN THEY RETURN HOME -- COOKING THE MOLLUSCS AND CRUSTACEA -- FISH
CATCHING WITH LINE, NET, AND SPEAR -- INSECT FOOD -- THE BEE CATCHERS
-- TREE AND EARTH GRUBS, AND MODE OF CATCHING THEM -- THE PILEYAH --
THE DUGONG -- ITS LOCALITIES, AND MODES OF TAKING AND COOKING IT --
CAPTURING AND COOKING THE GREEN TURTLE -- CURIOUS USE OF THE SUCKING
FISH -- TAMING THE TURTLE -- THE HAWKSBILL TURTLE, AND MODE OF
CATCHING IT -- TURTLE OIL AND DRIED FLESH -- SALE OF TORTOISE-SHELL
-- TWO FORMS OF AUSTRALIAN OVENS -- COOKING AND EATING SNAKES --
CATCHING THE SNAKE ALIVE -- THE CLOAK AND THE SHIELD -- THE DUGONG,
AND ITS CAPTURE -- SMALL TENACITY OF LIFE -- A SAVORY FEAST.
We will now proceed to the various manners and customs of the
Australians, not separating them into the arbitrary and fluctuating
distinctions of tribes, but describing as briefly as is consistent with
justice, the most interesting of their habits, and mentioning those
cases where any particular custom seems to be confined to any one tribe
or district.
We have in the illustration No. 1, on page 707, a good example of a
native of North Western Australia. The sketch was kindly made by Mr. T.
Baines. A profile of the man is given, in order to show the peculiar
contour of the face, which, as the reader may see, has nothing of the
negro character about it; the boldly prominent nose, the full beard,
and the long hair fastened up in a top-knot being the distinguishing
features. The man carries in his belt his provisions for the day,
namely, a snake and one of the little kangaroo-rats, and having these
he knows no care, though of course he would prefer larger game.
Round his neck may be seen a string. This supports an ornament which
hangs upon his breast. Several forms of this ornament, which is called
in the duplicative Australian language a “dibbi-dibbi,” are employed,
and there are in my collection two beautiful specimens made from the
shell of the pearl-oyster. The ordinary dibbi-dibbi is fan-shaped,
and does not depart very much from the original outline of the shell.
There is, however, one kind of dibbi-dibbi which is valued exceedingly,
and which is shaped like a crescent. The specimen in my possession
is almost as large as a cheese plate, and must have been cut from
an enormous shell, economy, whether of material or time, not being
understood by these savages. Owing to the shape of the shell, it is
slightly convex, and was worn with the concave side next the body.
Not being satisfied with the natural smooth polish of the nacre, the
native has ornamented the dibbi-dibbi with a simple but tolerably
effective pattern. Along the margin of the scooped edge he has bored
two parallel rows of small and shallow holes about half an inch
apart, and on either side of each row he has cut a narrow line. From
the outer line he has drawn a series of scalloped patterns made in a
similar fashion; and, simple as this pattern is, its effect is really
remarkable. The man has evidently begun a more elaborate pattern on the
broad surface of the shell, but his mind seems to have misgiven him,
and he has abandoned it. The cord by which it is suspended round the
neck is nearly an inch wide, and is made of string and a sort of rattan
plaited together.
On the shoulder of the man may be seen a number of raised marks. These
are the scars of wounds with which the Australians are in the habit
of adorning their bodies, and which they sometimes wear in great
profusion. The marks are made by cutting deeply into the skin, and
filling the wounds with clay and other substances, so that when the
wound heals an elevated scar is made. These scars are made in patterns
which partly differ according to the taste of the individual, and
partly signifying the district to which the tattooed person belongs.
For example, the scars as shown in the illustration are the mark of a
Northern Australian; and, although he may have plenty other scars on
his body and limbs, these will always appear on his shoulder as the
distinguishing mark of his tribe.
In my photographs, which represent natives from various parts of
the continent, these scars are very prominent, and there is not
an individual who does not possess them. Some have them running
longitudinally down the upper arm, while others have them alternately
longitudinal and transverse. They occasionally appear on the breast,
and an old man, remarkable for the quantity of hair which covered his
breast and arms, has disposed them in a fan shape, spreading from the
centre of the body to the arms. He has evidently spent a vast amount
of time on this adornment, and suffered considerable pain, as scars,
although not so large as in many other instances, are exceedingly
numerous; the man has adorned his arms and shoulders with little scars
of the same character arranged in regular lines.
In some parts of Australia the scars assume a much more formidable
appearance, being long and heavy ridges. One chief, who was very proud
of his adornments,--as well he might be, seeing that their possession
must nearly have cost him his life,--was entirely covered from his neck
to his knees with scars at least an inch broad, set closely together,
and covering the whole of the body. The front of the chest and stomach
was adorned with two rows of these scars, each scar being curved, and
reaching from the side to the centre of the body, where they met. The
man was so inordinately proud of this ornament that nothing could
induce him to wear clothing of any kind, and he stalked about in his
grandeur, wearing nothing but his weapons. The photograph of this man
has a very singular aspect, the light falling on the polished ridge of
the scars having an effect as if he were clad in a suit of some strange
armor.
By way of adding to the beauty of their countenances, they are in the
habit of perforating the septum of the nose, and of thrusting through
it a piece of bone or stick, the former being preferred on account of
its whiteness. It is almost impossible to describe the exceedingly
grotesque appearance presented by an Australian dandy, who has his
body covered with scars, and his face crossed by a wide piece of bone
some six inches in length, making his naturally broad nose wider, and
seeming as it were to cut his face in half. The hole through which this
ornament is thrust is made when a child is a fortnight old.
As to other ornaments, they consist of the usual necklaces, bracelets,
and anklets which are common to savage tribes in all parts of the
world. Some of these necklaces which are in my collection are really
pretty, and some skill is shown in their manufacture. One is made of
pieces of yellow reed as thick as quills and almost an inch in length,
strung alternately with scarlet reeds; another is made entirely of the
same reeds, while a third is, in my opinion, the handsomest, though
not the most striking of them. At first sight it appears to be made
entirely of the reeds already mentioned, but on a closer examination it
is seen to be composed entirely of the antennæ of lobsters, cut into
short lengths and strung together. To the necklaces is attached a small
mother-of-pearl dibbi-dibbi four inches long and one inch wide, and the
pieces of lobster antennæ are so disposed that the thinner parts of the
antennæ, taken from the extremities, come next to the dibbi-dibbi and
hang on the breast, while the larger and thicker parts, taken from the
base of the antennæ, come on the neck. The native basket in which these
necklaces were kept is more than half filled with bright colored seeds
of various hues, that are evidently intended for the manufacture of
necklaces.
Girdles of finely twisted human hair are often worn by the men, and
the native who is represented in the engraving No. 1, on page 707, is
wearing one of these girdles. Sometimes, as in the present instance, a
small tassel made of the hair of a phalangist or “flying-squirrel,” as
it is wrongly termed, is hung to the front of the girdle, by no means
as a covering, but as an ornament.
The scars are so highly valued that the women wear them nearly as
profusely as the men. In my photographs, there are portraits of many
women of all ages, not one of whom is without scars. They do not wear
them so large as the men, but seem to be more careful in the regularity
of the pattern.
Taking a series of three women, the first has three cuts on the
shoulder showing her northern extraction, and a row of small
horizontal and parallel scars along the front of the body from the
breast-bone downward. The second, in addition to the shoulder cuts, has
several rows of scars extending from the breast to the collar-bones,
together with a central line as already described, and some similar
rows of cuts on the ribs and sides. The third woman, a mere girl of
fourteen or so, has been very careful in the arrangement of the scars,
which descend in regular and parallel rows from the breast downward,
and then radiate fan-wise in six rows from the breast upward to the
collar bones.
Mr. M’Gillivray, who accompanied H. M. S. _Rattlesnake_ in her voyage,
writes as follows concerning the scar ornaments and their uses:--“The
Torres Straits islanders are distinguished by a large complicated oval
scar, only slightly raised, and of neat construction. This, which I
have been told has some connection with a turtle, occupies the right
shoulder, and is occasionally repeated on the left. (See engraving at
foot of page 722.) At Cape York, however, the cicatrices were so varied
that I could not connect any particular style with an individual tribe.
At the same time, something like uniformity was noticed among the
Katchialaigas, nearly all of whom had, in addition to the horned breast
mark, two or three long transverse scars on the chest, which the other
tribes did not possess.
“In the remaining people the variety of marking was such that it
appeared fair to consider it as being regulated more by individual
caprice than by any fixed custom. Many had a simple two-horned mark on
each breast, and we sometimes saw upon them a clumsy imitation of the
elaborate shoulder mark of the islanders.”
Well-shaped as are these women, they have one defect in form, namely,
the high and square shoulder, which detracts so much from feminine
beauty, and which is equally conspicuous in the child of six, the girl
of thirteen or fourteen, and the old woman. The men also exhibit the
same defective form.
The reader will have noticed the elaborate manner in which the hair of
the Australian savage is sometimes dressed. The style of hair-dressing
varies with the locality, and often with the time, fashion having as
absolute a reign among the native Australians, and being quite as
capricious, as among ourselves. Sometimes the hair is twisted up into
long and narrow ringlets, and, if the savage should not happen to have
enough hair for this fashion, he straightway makes a wig in imitation
of it. Now and then the head is shaved, except a transverse crest of
hair, and sometimes the natives will take a fashion of rubbing red
ochre and turtle-fat into their heads until they are saturated with the
compound, and will then twist up the hair into little strands.
The men of this part of Australia never wear any dress, and the women
are often equally indifferent to costume. At Cape York, however, they
mostly wear an apology for a petticoat, consisting of a tuft of long
grass or split pandanus leaves suspended to the front of the girdle. On
great occasions, and especially in their dances, they wear over this a
second petticoat mostly made of some leaf, and having the ends woven
into a sort of waistband. The material of the petticoat is generally
pandanus leaf, but, whatever may be the material, the mode of plaiting
it and the general form are the same among all the tribes of Torres
Straits. From this useful leaf, the women also make the rude sails for
their canoes, which serve the double purpose of sails and coverings
under which the natives can sleep in wet weather.
The women have rather a curious mode of wearing one of their ornaments.
This is a very long belt, composed of many strands of plaited or
twisted fibre, and passed round the body in such a manner that it
crosses on the breast like the now abolished cross-belts of the
soldier. It is drawn rather tight, and may perhaps be of some service
in supporting the bosom. In neither case does clothing seem to be worn
as a mode of concealing any part of the body, but merely as a defence
against the weather or as an ornament. Even when dress is worn it is of
a very slight character, with one or two exceptions. These exceptions
are the fur cloaks, with which the women sometimes clothe themselves,
and a remarkable garment which presently will be described.
The fur cloaks are made almost universally from the skin of the
opossum, and, as the animal is a small one, a considerable number
are sewed together to make a single robe. The mode of manufacture is
exactly similar to that which was described when treating of the kaross
of the Kaffir tribes, the skins being cut to the proper shape, laid
side by side, and sewed laboriously together with threads formed of the
sinews of the kangaroo’s tail, or often with those which are drawn out
of the tails of the very creatures which furnish the skin.
Sometimes a piece of kangaroo skin is used for the same purpose, but
in neither case does it fulfil the office of a dress according to our
ideas. The cloak is a very small one in proportion to the size of the
women, and it is worn by being thrown over the back and tied across the
chest by a couple of thongs, so as to leave the whole front of the body
uncovered. If the garment in question be the skin of the kangaroo, it
is slung over one shoulder, and allowed to fall much as it likes, the
only object seeming to be that it shall cover the greater part of the
back and one shoulder. Occasionally a man wears a fur cloak, but he
seems to be very indifferent as to the manner in which it hangs upon
his body, sometimes draping it about his shoulders, sometimes letting
it fall to his waist and gathering it about his loins, and sometimes,
especially if walking, holding two corners together with his left hand
in front of his breast, while his right hand grasps his bundle of
weapons.
Mr. Angas mentions one instance of a singularly perfect dress in use
among the Australians--the only dress in fact that is really deserving
of the name. It is a large cloak made from the zostera or sea grass, a
plant that is remarkable for being the only true flowering plant that
grows in the sea. It has very long grass-like blades, and is found in
vast beds, that look in a clear sea like luxuriant hay-fields just
before mowing.
The fibre of the zostera is long, and wonderfully tough, and indeed
the fibre is so good, and the plant so abundant, that the uses to
which it is now put, such as packing and stuffing, are far below its
capabilities, and it ought to be brought into use for purposes for
which a long and strong fibre are needed. Some time ago, when the
supply of rags for paper seemed to be failing, there was an attempt
made to substitute the zostera for rags; and, although it was not a
perfectly successful experiment, it had at all events the elements of
success in it.
With this long grass the Australian native occasionally makes a large
cloak, which will cover the whole body. It is made by laying the fibres
side by side, and lashing them together at regular intervals, much as
the well-known New Zealand mantle is made from the phormium. Anxious to
avoid trouble, the native only fastens together a sufficient quantity
to make a covering for his body as low as the knees, the loose ends of
the zostera being left as a kind of long fringe that edges the mantle
all round, and really has a very graceful effect.
The illustration No. 2, on the next page, shows one of those curious
mantles, which was sketched while on the body of the wearer. As the
manufacture of such a mantle involves much trouble, and the Australian
native has the full savage hatred of labor, very few of these cloaks
are to be seen. Indeed, nothing but a rather long inclement season
will induce a native to take the trouble of making a garment which he
will only use for a comparatively short period, and which is rather
troublesome to carry about when not wanted.
* * * * *
We now come to the food of the natives. As has already been stated,
they eat almost anything, but there are certain kinds of food which
they prefer, and which will be specially mentioned.
As to vegetable food, there are several kinds of yams which the more
civilized tribes cultivate--the nearest approach to labor of which
they can be accused. It is almost exclusively on the islands that
cultivation is found, and Mr. M’Gillivray states that on the mainland
he never saw an attempt at clearing the ground for a garden. In the
islands, however, the natives manage after a fashion to raise crops of
yams.
When they want to clear a piece of ground, they strew the surface
with branches, which are allowed to wither and dry; as soon as they
are thoroughly dried, fire is set to them, and thus the space is
easily cleared from vegetation. The ground is then pecked up with a
stick sharpened at the point and hardened by fire; the yams are cut
up and planted, and by the side of each hole a stick is thrust into
the ground, so as to form a support for the plant when it grows up.
The natives plant just before the rainy season. They never trouble
themselves to build a fence round the simple garden, neither do they
look after the growth of the crops, knowing that the rains which are
sure to fall will bring their crops to perfection.
There are also multitudes of vegetable products on which the natives
feed. One of them, which is largely used, is called by them “biyu.”
It is made from the young and tender shoots of the mangrove tree. The
sprouts, when three or four inches in length, are laid upon heated
stones, and covered with bark, wet leaves, and sand. After being
thoroughly stewed, they are beaten between two stones, and the pulp is
scraped away from the fibres. It then forms a slimy gray paste, and,
although it is largely eaten, the natives do not seem to like it, and
only resort to it on a necessity. They contrive, however, to improve
its flavor by adding large quantities of wild yams and other vegetable
products.
Perhaps the most celebrated wild food of the Australians is the
“nardoo,” which has become so familiar to the British reader since the
important expedition of Burke and Wills. The nardoo is the produce of
a cryptogamous plant which grows in large quantities, but is rather
local. The fruit is about as large as a pea, and is cleaned for use by
being rubbed in small wooden troughs. It is then pounded into a paste,
and made into cakes, like oatmeal.
The nardoo plant is one of the ferns, and those of my readers who are
skilled in botany will find it in the genus Marsilea. Like many of the
ferns, the plant presents a strangely unfernlike aspect, consisting
of upright and slender stems, about twelve inches high, each having
on its tips a small quadruple frond, closely resembling a flower. The
fruit, or “sporocarp” of the nardoo is the part that is eaten; and it
is remarkable for its powers of absorbing water, and so increasing its
size. Indeed, when the fruit is soaked in water, it will in the course
of a single hour swell until it is two hundred times its former size.
[Illustration: (1.) THE HUNTER AND HIS DAY’S PROVISIONS. (See page
704.)]
[Illustration: (2.) THE SEA GRASS CLOAK. (See page 706.)]
The nardoo is useful in its way, and, when mixed with more nutritious
food, is a valuable article of diet. Taken alone, however, it has
scarcely the slightest nutritive powers, and though it distends the
stomach, and so keeps off the gnawing sense of hunger, it gives no
strength to the system. Even when eaten with fish, it is of little
use, and requires either fat or sugar to give it the due power of
nourishment. With the wonderful brightness of spirit which Mr. Wills
managed to keep up, even when suffering the severest hardships, and
feeling himself gradually dying, he gives in his diary a curiously
accurate picture of the effects of living for a length of time on an
innutritious substance. He liked the nardoo, and consumed considerable
quantities of it, but gradually wasted away, leaving a record in his
diary that “starvation on nardoo is by no means unpleasant but for the
weakness one feels, and the utter inability to rouse one’s self; for as
far as appetite is concerned, it gives the greatest satisfaction.”
The death of this fine young man affords another proof of the
disadvantage at which a stranger to the country is placed while
traversing a new land. Many native tribes lived on the route along
which the travellers passed, and, from their knowledge of the resources
of the country, were able to support themselves; whereas the white
travellers seem to have died of starvation in the midst of plenty.
The chief vegetable food, however, is furnished by the bulrush root,
which is to the Australians who live near rivers the staff of life. As
the task of procuring it is a very disagreeable one, it is handed over
to the women, who have to wade among the reeds and half bury themselves
in mud while procuring the root.
It is cooked after the usual Australian manner. A heap of limestones is
raised, and heated by fire. The roots are then laid on the hot stones,
and are covered with a layer of the same material. In order to produce
a quantity of steam, a heap of wet grass is thrown on the upper layer
of stones, and a mound of sand heaped over all.
As the root, however well cooked, is very fibrous, the natives do not
swallow it, but, after chewing it and extracting all the soft parts,
they reject the fibres, just as a sailor throws aside his exhausted
quid; and great quantities of these little balls of fibre are to be
found near every encampment. The same fibre is convertible into string,
and is used in the manufacture of fishing lines and nets.
The singular knowledge of vegetable life possessed by the natives is
never displayed with greater force than in the power which they have of
procuring water. In an apparently desert place, where no signs of water
are to be found, and where not even a pigeon can be seen to wing its
way through the air, as the guide to the distant water toward which it
is flying, the native will manage to supply himself with both water
and food.
He looks out for certain eucalypti or gum-trees, which are visible from
a very great distance, and makes his way toward them. Choosing a spot
at three or four yards from the trunk, with his katta he digs away at
the earth, so as to expose the roots, tears them out of the ground, and
proceeds to prepare them. Cutting them into pieces of a foot or so in
length, he stands them upright in the bark vessel which an Australian
mostly carries with him, and waits patiently. Presently a few drops of
water ooze from the lower ends of the roots, and in a short time water
pours out freely, so that an abundant supply of liquid is obtained.
Should the native be very much parched, he takes one of the pieces
of root, splits it lengthwise, and chews it, finding that it gives
as much juice as a water-melon. The youngest and freshest-looking
trees are always chosen for the purpose of obtaining water, and the
softest-looking roots selected. After the water has all been drained
from them, they are peeled, pounded between two stones, and then
roasted; so that the eucalyptus supplies both food and drink.
As, however, has been stated, the chief reliance of the natives is
upon animal food and fish, molluscs, crustacea, reptiles, and insects
form a very considerable proportion of their food. Collecting the
shell-fish is the duty of the women, chiefly because it is really hard
work, and requires a great amount of diving. Throughout the whole of
this vast continent this duty is given to the women; and whether in
the Gulf of Carpentaria, on the extreme north, or in the island of Van
Diemen’s Land, in the extreme south, the same custom prevails. During
Labillardière’s voyage in search of La Perouse, the travellers came
upon a party of the natives of Van Diemen’s Land while the women were
collecting shell-fish, and the author gives a good description of the
labors to which these poor creatures were subjected:--
“About noon we saw them prepare their repast. Hitherto we had but a
faint idea of the pains the women take to procure the food requisite
for the subsistence of their families. They took each a basket, and
were followed by their daughters, who did the same. Getting on the
rocks that projected into the sea, they plunged from them to the bottom
in search of shell-fish. When they had been down some time, we became
very uneasy on their account; for where they had dived were seaweeds
of great length, among which we observed the _fucus pyriferus_, and we
feared that they might have been entangled in these, so as to be unable
to regain the surface.
“At length, however, they appeared, and convinced us that they were
capable of remaining under water twice as long as our ablest divers.
An instant was sufficient for them to take breath, and then they dived
again. This they did repeatedly till their baskets were nearly full.
Most of them were provided with a little bit of wood, cut into the
shape of a spatula, and with these they separated from beneath the
rocks, at great depths, very large sea-ears. Perhaps they chose the
biggest, for all they brought were of a great size.
“On seeing the large lobsters which they had in their baskets, we were
afraid that they must have wounded these poor women terribly with their
large claws; but we soon found that they had taken the precaution to
kill them as soon as they caught them. They quitted the water only to
bring their husbands the fruits of their labor, and frequently returned
almost immediately to their diving till they had procured a sufficient
meal for their families. At other times they stayed a little while to
warm themselves, with their faces toward the fire on which their fish
was roasting, and other little fires burning behind them, that they
might be warmed on all sides at once.
“It seemed as if they were unwilling to lose a moment’s time; for while
they were warming themselves, they were employed in roasting fish, some
of which they laid on the coals with the utmost caution, though they
took little care of the lobsters, which they threw anywhere into the
fire; and when they were ready they divided the claws among the men and
the children, reserving the body for themselves, which they sometimes
ate before returning into the water.
“It gave us great pain to see these poor women condemned to such severe
toil; while, at the same time, they ran the hazard of being devoured by
sharks, or entangled among the weeds that rise from the bottom of the
sea. We often entreated their husbands to take a share in their labor
at least, but always in vain. They remained constantly near the fire,
feasting on the best bits, and eating broiled fucus, or fern-roots.
Occasionally they took the trouble to break boughs of trees into short
pieces to feed the fire, taking care to choose the dryest.
“From their manner of breaking them we found that their skulls must
be very hard; for, taking hold of the sticks at each end with the
hand, they broke them over their heads, as we do at the knee, till
they broke. Their heads being constantly bare, and often exposed to
all weathers in this high latitude, acquire a capacity for resisting
such efforts: besides, their hair forms a cushion which diminishes
the pressure, and renders it much less painful on the summit of the
head than any other part of the body. Few of the women, however, could
have done as much, for some had their hair cut pretty short, and wore
a string several times round the head; others had only a simple crown
of hair. We made the same observation with respect to several of the
children, but none of the men. These had the back, breast, shoulders,
and arms covered with downy hair.”
Sometimes a party of women will go out on a raft made of layers of
reeds, pushing themselves along by means of very long poles. When they
arrive at a bed of mussels, they will stay there nearly all day diving
from the raft, with their nets tied round their necks, and, after
remaining under water for a considerable time, come up with a heavy
load of mussels in their nets.
They even manage to cook upon this fragile raft. They make a heap of
wet sand upon the reeds, put a few stones on it, and build their fire
on the stones, just as if they had been on shore. After remaining until
they have procured a large stock of mussels, they pole themselves
ashore, and in all probability have to spend several hours in cooking
the mussels for the men. The mussels are usually eaten with the bulrush
root.
There is a sort of crayfish which is found in the mud-flats of rivers
and lakes. These are also caught by the women, who feel for them in the
mud with their feet, and hold them down firmly until they can be seized
by the hand. As soon as the creatures are taken, the claws are crushed
to prevent them from biting, and they are afterward roasted, while
still alive, on the embers of the fire. Tadpoles are favorite articles
of diet with the Australians, who fry them on grass.
The ordinary limpet, mussel, and other molluscs, are largely eaten by
the natives, who scoop them out by means of smaller shells, just as is
done by boys along our own coasts--a plan which is very efficacious,
as I can testify from personal experience. Sometimes they cook the
molluscs by the simple process of throwing them on the embers, but as a
general rule they eat them in a raw state, as we eat oysters.
Fish they catch in various ways. The usual method is by a hook and
line; the former of which is ingeniously cut out of the shell of the
hawksbill turtle. Two of these hooks are now before me, and raise a
feeling of wonder as to the fish which could be induced to take such
articles into its mouth. It is flat, very clumsily made, and there is
no barb, the point being curved very much inward, so as to prevent
the fish from slipping off the hook. In fact the whole shape of the
hook is almost exactly identical with that of the hook which is found
throughout Polynesia and extends to New Zealand.
The hook is fastened to a long and stout line, made by chewing reeds,
stripping them into fibres, and rolling them on the thighs. Two of
these strings are then twisted together, and the line is complete. My
own specimen of a line is about as thick as the fishing lines used
on our coasts, and it is very long, having a hook at either end. The
hook is lashed to the line by a very firm but rather clumsy wrapping.
Sometimes the line is made of scraped rattan fibres.
Another mode of fishing is by the net. This requires at least two men
to manage it. The net is many feet in length, and about four feet in
width. It is kept extended by a number of sticks placed a yard or so
apart, and can then be rolled up in a cylindrical package and be taken
to the water. One man then takes an end of the net, unrolls it, and
with the assistance of his comrade drops it into the water. As soon as
the lower edge of the net touches the bottom, the men wade toward the
shore, drawing with them the two ends of the net and all the fish that
happen to be within its range. As soon as they near the shore, they
bring the two ends of the net to the land, fix them there, and are then
able to pick up and throw ashore all the fish that are in the net. Some
of the more active fish escape by leaping over the upper edge of the
net, and some of the mud-loving and crafty wriggle their way under the
lower edge; but there is always a sufficiency of fish to reward the
natives for their labor.
Like the fishing line, the net is made of chewed reeds, and the labor
of chewing and twisting the string belongs exclusively to the women.
A third mode of fishing is by employing certain traps or baskets,
ingeniously woven of rattan, and made so that the fish can easily pass
into them, but cannot by any possibility get out again. Sometimes
fish are speared in the shallow water, the native wading in, and with
unerring aim transfixing the fish with his spear. Even the children
take part in this sport, and, though armed with nothing better than a
short stick, sharpened at one end, contrive to secure their fish. With
the same stick they dig molluscs out of the mud, and turn crustacea out
of their holes; and when they can do this, they are supposed to be able
to shift for themselves, and their parents take no more trouble about
feeding them.
They are not more fastidious in the cooking of fish than of crustacea
or molluscs, but just throw them on the fire, turn them once or
twice with a stick, and when they are warmed through and the outside
scorched, they pick them out of the fire, scrape off the burnt scales,
and eat them without further ceremony.
Insect food is much used among the Australians. As might be expected,
honey is greatly valued by them, and they display great ingenuity in
procuring it. When a native sees a bee about the flowers, and wishes to
find the honey, he repairs to the nearest pool, selects a spot where
the bank shelves very gradually, lies on his face, fills his mouth with
water, and patiently awaits the arrival of a bee. These insects require
a considerable amount of moisture, as every one knows who has kept
them, and the bee-hunter reckons on this fact to procure him the honey
which he desires. After a while a bee is sure to come and drink, and
the hunter, hearing the insect approaching him, retains his position
and scarcely breathes, so fearful is he of alarming it. At last it
alights, and instantly the native blows the water from his mouth over
it, stunning it for the moment. Before it can recover itself, he seizes
it, and by means of a little gum attaches to it a tuft of white down
obtained from one of the trees.
As soon as it is released, the insect flies away toward its nest, the
white tuft serving the double purpose of making it more conspicuous
and retarding its flight. Away goes the hunter after it at full speed,
running and leaping along in a wonderful manner, his eyes fixed on the
guiding insect, and making very light of obstacles. (See illustration
No. 1, on the 716th page.) Sometimes a fallen tree will be in his way,
and if he can he jumps over it; but at all risks he must get over
without delay, and so he dashes at the obstacle with reckless activity.
Should he surmount it, well and good; but if, as often happens, he
should fall, he keeps his eyes fixed, as well as he can, on the bee,
and as soon as he springs to his feet he resumes the chase. Even if
he should lose sight of it for a moment, he dashes on in the same
direction, knowing that a bee always flies in a straight line for its
home; and when he nears it, the angry hum of the hampered insect soon
tells him that he has recovered the lost ground.
The reader will see that this mode of tracking the bee to its home
is far inferior to that of the American bee-hunters, and is rather a
business of the legs than of the head. The Australian bee-hunter waits
until a bee happens to come to the spot where he lies; the American
bee-hunter baits an attractive trap, and induces the insect to come to
the spot which he selects. Then the Australian bee-hunter only runs
after the single bee; whereas the American bee-hunter economizes his
strength by employing two bees, and saving his legs.
He puts honey on a flat wooden slab, having drawn a circle of white
paint round it. The bee alights on the honey, and, after filling its
crop, crawls through the white paint and sets off homeward. The hunter
follows the “bee-line” taken by the insect, and marks it by scoring or
“blazing” a few trees. He then removes his honeyed trap to a spot at
an angle with his former station and repeats the process. There is no
need for him to race after the flying bee, and to run considerable risk
of damaging himself more or less seriously; he simply follows out the
lines which the two bees have taken, and, by fixing on the point at
which they meet, walks leisurely up to the nest.
Having found his bee nest, the Australian loses no time in ascending to
the spot, whether it be a cleft in a rock, or, as is usually the case,
a hole in a tree. This latter spot is much favored by the bees, as
well as by many of the arboreal mammals, of which there are so many in
Australia. The sudden and violent tempests which rage in that part of
the world tear off the branches of trees and hurl them to the ground.
During succeeding rainy seasons, the wet lodges in the broken branch,
and by degrees rots away the wood, which is instantly filled with
the larvæ of beetles, moths, flies, and other insects that feed upon
decaying wood. Thus, in a few years, the hollow extends itself until it
burrows into the tree itself, and sometimes descends nearly from the
top to the bottom, thus forming an admirable locality for the bees.
Taking with him a hatchet, a basket, and a quantity of dry grass or
leaves, the native ascends, lights the grass, and under cover of the
smoke chops away the wood until he can get at the combs, which he
places in the basket, with which he descends. Should he be too poor to
possess even a basket, he extemporizes one by cutting away the bark of
the tree; and should the nest be a very large one, he is supplied by
his friends from below with a number of vessels, and passes them down
as fast as they are filled.
Perhaps some of my readers may remark that honey cannot be rightly
considered as insect food, and that it ought to have been ranked among
the vegetable productions. The Australian, however, does not content
himself with extracting the honey from the comb, but eats it precisely
in the state in which it is brought from the nest. As the bees are
not forced, as amongst English bee-masters, to keep their honey-cells
distinct from those which contain the hoard and the “bee-bread,” each
comb contains indiscriminately bee-bread, young bee-grubs, and honey,
and the Australian eats all three with equal satisfaction.
Another kind of insect food is a grub which inhabits the trunks of
trees, and of which the natives are inordinately fond. They have a
wonderful faculty of discovering the presence of this grub, and twist
it out of its hole with an odd little instrument composed of a hook
fastened to the end of a slender twig. This implement is carried in the
hair so as to project over the ear, like a clerk’s pen, and for a long
time puzzled travellers, who thought it to be merely an ornament, and
could not understand its very peculiar shape.
The larva is the caterpillar of a moth which is closely allied to the
goat-moth of our own country, and has the same habit of burrowing
into the wood of living trees. The hooked instrument which is used
for drawing them out of their holes is called the “pileyah,” and is
employed also for hooking beetles, grubs, and other insects out of
their holes in the ground. When the pileyah is used for extracting
grubs from the earth, the ground is first loosened by means of a wooden
scoop that looks something like a hollowed waddy. The pileyah is then
tied to the end of a polygonum twig of sufficient length, and by such
means can be introduced into the holes.
Perhaps the most celebrated of the various insect banquets in which
the Australians delight is that which is furnished by the bugong moth,
as the insect is popularly, but wrongly, called. Instead of belonging
to the moth tribe, it is one of the butterflies, and belongs to the
graceful family of the Heliconidæ. Its scientific name is _Euplœa
hamata_. The bugong is remarkable for the fact that its body, instead
of being slender like that of most butterflies, is very stout, and
contains an astonishing amount of oily matter. The color of the insect
is dark brown, with two black spots on the upper wings. It is a small
insect, measuring only an inch and a half across the wings.
It is found in the New South Wales district, and inhabits a range
of hills that are called from the insect the Bugong Mountains. The
Australians eat the bugong butterflies just as locusts are eaten in
many parts of the world, and, for the short time during which the
insect makes its appearance, feast inordinately upon it, and get quite
fat. The following account is given by Mr. G. Bennett:--
“After riding over the lower ranges, we arrived a short distance above
the base of the Bugong Mountain, tethered the horses, and ascended on
foot, by a steep and rugged path, which led us to the first summit of
the mountain: at this place, called Ginandery by the natives, enormous
masses of granite rock, piled one upon another, and situated on the
verge of a wooded precipice, excited our attention. An extensive and
romantic view was here obtained of a distant, wooded, mountainous
country.
“This was the first place where, upon the smooth sides or crevices of
the granite blocks, the bugong moths congregated in such incredible
multitudes; but, from the blacks having recently been here, we found
but few of the insects remaining. At one part of this group of granite
rocks were two pools, apparently hollowed naturally from the solid
stone, and filled with cool and clear water; so, lighting a fire, we
enjoyed a cup of tea previous to recommencing our further ascent. On
proceeding we found the rise more gradual, but unpleasant, from the
number of loose stones and branches of trees strewed about; several
of the deserted bark huts of the natives (which they had temporarily
erected when engaged in collecting and preparing the bugong) were
scattered around. Shrubs and plants were numerous as we proceeded, but,
with few exceptions, did not differ from those seen in other parts of
the colony.
“Near a small limpid stream a species of _Lycopodium_ grew so dense
as to form a carpet over which we were able to walk. The timber trees
towered to so great an elevation that the prospect of the country we
had anticipated was impeded. At last we arrived at another peculiar
group of granite rocks in enormous masses and of various forms; this
place, similar to the last, formed the locality where the bugong moths
congregate, and is called ‘Warrogong’ by the natives. The remains of
recent fires apprised us that the aborigines had only recently left the
place for another of similar character a few miles further distant.
“Our native guides wished us to proceed and join the tribe, but the
day had so far advanced that it was thought more advisable to return,
because it was doubtful, as the blacks removed from a place as soon as
they had cleared it of the insects, whether we should find them at the
next group, or removed to others still further distant.
“From the result of my observations it appears that the insects are
only found in such multitudes on these insulated and peculiar masses
of granite, for about the other solitary granite rocks, so profusely
scattered over the range, I did not observe a single moth, or even the
remains of one. Why they should be confined only to these particular
places, or for what purpose they thus collect together, is not a less
curious than interesting subject of inquiry. Whether it be for the
purpose of emigrating, or any other cause, our present knowledge cannot
satisfactorily answer.
“The bugong moths, as I have before observed, collect on the surfaces,
and also in the crevices, of the masses of granite in incredible
quantities. To procure them with greater facility, the natives make
smothered fires underneath these rocks about which they are collected,
and suffocate them with smoke, at the same time sweeping them off
frequently in bushelfuls at a time. After they have collected a large
quantity, they proceed to prepare them, which is done in the following
manner.
“A circular space is cleared upon the ground, of a size proportioned
to the number of insects to be prepared; on it a fire is lighted and
kept burning until the ground is considered to be sufficiently heated,
when, the fire being removed, and the ashes cleared away, the moths are
placed upon the heated ground, and stirred about until the down and
wings are removed from them; they are then placed on pieces of bark,
and _winnowed_ to separate the dust and wings mixed with the bodies;
they are then eaten, or placed into a wooden vessel called ‘walbum,’
or ‘calibum,’ and pounded by a piece of wood into masses or cakes
resembling lumps of fat, and may be compared in color and consistence
to dough made from smutty wheat mixed with fat.
“The bodies of the moths are large and filled with a yellowish
oil, resembling in taste a sweet nut. These masses (with which the
‘netbuls,’ or ‘talabats,’ of the native tribes are loaded during the
season of feasting upon the bugong) will not keep more than a week, and
seldom even for that time; but by smoking they are able to preserve
them for a much longer period. The first time this diet is used by the
native tribes, violent vomiting and other debilitating effects are
produced, but after a few days they become accustomed to its use, and
then thrive and fatten exceedingly upon it.
“These insects are held in such estimation among the aborigines, that
they assemble from all parts of the country to collect them from these
mountains. It is not only the native blacks that resort to the bugong,
but crows also congregate for the same purpose. The blacks (that is,
the crows and the aborigines) do not agree about their respective
shares: so the stronger decides the point; for, when the crows (called
‘arabul’ by the natives) enter the hollows of the rocks to feed upon
the insects, the natives stand at the entrance and kill them as they
fly out; and they afford them an excellent meal, being fat from feeding
upon the rich bugong. So eager are the feathered blacks or arabuls
after this food that they attack it even when it is preparing by the
natives; but as the aborigines never consider any increase of food a
misfortune, they lay in wait for the arabuls with waddies or clubs,
kill them in great numbers, and use them as food.”
* * * * *
Reptiles form a very considerable part of an Australian’s diet, and he
displays equal aptitude in capturing and cooking them. Turtle is an
especial favorite with him, not only on account of its size, and of the
quantity of meat which it furnishes, but on account of the oil which is
obtained from it.
On the coast of Australia several kinds of turtle are found, the most
useful of which are the ordinary green turtle and the hawksbill. They
are caught either in the water, or by watching for them when they come
on shore for the purpose of laying their eggs, and then turning them on
their backs before they can reach the sea. As, however, comparatively
few venture on the shore, the greater number are taken in the water.
Along the shore the natives have regular watchtowers or cairns made of
stones and the bones of turtles, dugongs, and other creatures. When
the sentinel sees a turtle drifting along with the tide, he gives the
alarm, and a boat puts out after it. The canoe approaches from behind,
and paddles very cautiously so that the reptile may not hear it. As
soon as they come close to it, the chief hunter, who holds in his hand
one end of a slight but tough rope, leaps on the turtle’s back, and
clings to it with both hands on its shoulders. The startled reptile
dashes off, but before it has got very far the hunter contrives to
upset it, and while it is struggling he slips the noose of the rope
over one of its flippers. The creature is then comparatively helpless,
and is towed ashore by the canoe.
In some districts the turtle is taken by means of a harpoon, which is
identical in principle with that which is used by the hippopotamus
hunters of Africa. There is a long shaft, into the end of which is
loosely slipped a movable head. A rope is attached to the head, and a
buoy to the other end of the rope. As soon as the reptile is struck,
the shaft is disengaged, and is picked up by the thrower; while the
float serves as an indication of the turtle’s whereabouts, and enables
the hunters to tow it toward the shore.
One of the natives, named Gi’ôm, told Mr. M’Gillivray that they
sometimes caught the turtle by means of the remora, or sucking-fish.
One of these fish, round whose tail a line has been previously made
fast, is kept in a vessel of water on board the boat, and, when a small
turtle is seen, the remora is dropped into the sea. Instinctively
it makes its way to the turtle, and fastens itself so firmly to the
reptile’s back that they are both hauled to the boat’s side and lifted
in by the fishermen. Only small turtles can be thus taken, and there
is one species which never attains any great size which is generally
captured in this curious manner.
The hawksbill turtle is too dangerous an antagonist to be chased in the
water. The sharp-edged scales which project from its sides would cut
deeply into the hands of any man who tried to turn it; and even the
green turtle, with its comparatively blunt-edged shell, has been known
to inflict a severe wound upon the leg of the man who was clinging to
its back. The native, therefore, is content to watch it ashore, and by
means of long, stout poles, which he introduces leverwise under its
body, turns it over without danger to himself.
When the Australians have succeeded in turning a turtle, there are
great rejoicings, as the very acme of human felicity consists,
according to native ideas, in gorging until the feasters can neither
stand nor sit. They may be seen absolutely rolling on the ground in
agony from the inordinate distension of their stomachs, and yet, as
soon as the pain has abated, they renew their feastings. Mostly they
assemble round the turtle, cook it rudely, and devour it on the spot;
but in Torres Straits they are more provident, and dry the flesh in
order to supply themselves with food during their voyages. They cut up
the meat into thin slices, boil the slices, and then dry them in the
sun.
During the process of cooking, a considerable amount of oil rises to
the surface, and is skimmed off and kept in vessels made of bamboo and
turtles’ bladders. The cook, however, has to exercise some vigilance
while performing his task, as the natives are so fond of the oil that,
unless they are closely watched, they will skim it off and drink it
while in an almost boiling state. The boiling and subsequent drying
render the flesh very hard, so that it will keep for several weeks; but
it cannot be eaten without a second boiling.
The shell of the hawksbill turtle is doubly valuable to the natives,
who reserve a little for the manufacture of hooks, and sell the rest
to shippers or traders, who bring it to Europe, where it is converted
into the “tortoise-shell” with which we are so familiar. There is
in my collection a beautiful specimen of one of these scales of
tortoise-shell as it was purchased from the natives. It is about eleven
inches in length and seven in width, and has a hole at one end by which
they string the scales together. There are the scars of eight large
limpet shells upon it, showing the singular appearance which the animal
must have presented when alive.
The cooking of turtle is a far more important process than that of
boiling fish, and a sort of oven is required in order to dress it
properly. In principle the oven resembles that which is in use in so
many parts of the world, and which has been already described when
shewing how the hunters of South Africa cook the elephant’s foot.
Instead, however, of digging a hole and burning wood in it, the
Australian takes a number of stones, each about the size of a man’s
fist, and puts them into the fire. When they are heated, they are laid
closely together, and the meat placed upon them. A second layer of
heated stones is arranged upon the meat, and a rim or bank of tea-tree
bush, backed up with sand or earth, is built round this primitive oven.
Grass and leaves are then strewn plentifully over the stones, and are
held in their places by the circular bank. The steam is thus retained,
and so the meat is cooked in a very effectual manner.
In some parts of the country, however, a more elaborate oven is
used. It consists of a hole some three feet in diameter and two feet
in depth, and is heated in the following manner:--It is filled to
within six inches of the top with round and hard stones, similar to
those which have already been described, and upon them a fire is
built and maintained for some time. When the stones are thought to be
sufficiently heated, the embers are swept away, and the food is simply
laid upon the stones and allowed to remain there until thoroughly
cooked.
This kind of oven is found over a large range of country, and Mr.
M’Gillivray has seen it throughout the shores of Torres Straits, and
extending as far southward as Sandy Cape on the eastern side.
[Illustration: (1.) BEE HUNTING. (See page 711.)]
[Illustration: (2.) COOKING A SNAKE. (See page 717.)]
Although the idea of snake eating is so repugnant to our ideas that
many persons cannot eat eels because they look like snakes, the
Australian knows better, and considers a snake as one of the greatest
delicacies which the earth produces. And there is certainly no reason
why we should repudiate the snake as disgusting while we accept the
turtle and so many of the tortoise kind as delicacies, no matter
whether their food be animal or vegetable. The Australian knows that
a snake in good condition ought to have plenty of fat, and to be well
flavored, and is always easy in his mind so long as he can catch one.
The process of cooking (see page 716) is exactly like that which is
employed with fish, except that more pains are taken about it, as is
consistent with the superior character of the food. The fire being
lighted, the native squats in front of it and waits until the flame
and smoke have partly died away, and then carefully coils the snake
on the embers, turning it and recoiling it until all the scales are
so scorched that they can be rubbed off. He then allows it to remain
until it is cooked according to his ideas, and eats it deliberately, as
becomes such a dainty, picking out the best parts for himself, and, if
he be in a good humor, tossing the rest to his wives.
Snake hunting is carried on in rather a curious manner. Killing a snake
at once, unless it should be wanted for immediate consumption, would be
extremely foolish, as it would be unfit for food before the night had
passed away. Taking it alive, therefore, is the plan which is adopted
by the skilful hunter, and this he manages in a very ingenious way.
Should he come upon one of the venomous serpents, he cuts off its
retreat, and with his spear or with a forked stick he irritates it with
one hand, while in his other he holds the narrow wooden shield. By
repeated blows he induces the reptile to attack him, and dexterously
receives the stroke on the shield, flinging the snake back by the
sudden repulse. Time after time the snake renews the attack, and is as
often foiled; and at last it yields the battle, and lies on the ground
completely beaten. The hunter then presses his forked stick on the
reptile’s neck, seizes it firmly, and holds it while a net is thrown
over it and it is bound securely to his spear. It is then carried off,
and reserved for the next day’s banquet.
Sometimes the opossum-skin cloak takes the place of the shield, and the
snake is allowed to bite it.
The carpet snake, which sometimes attains the length of ten or twelve
feet, is favorite game with the Australian native, as its large size
furnishes him with an abundant supply of meat, as well as the fat in
which his soul delights. This snake mostly lives in holes at the foot
of the curious grass-tree, of which we shall see several figures in the
course of the following pages, and in many places it is so plentiful
that there is scarcely a grass-tree without its snake.
As it would be a waste of time to probe each hole in succession, the
natives easily ascertain those holes which are inhabited by smearing
the earth around them with a kind of white clay mixed with water, which
is as soft as putty. On the following day they can easily see, by the
appearance of the clay, when a snake has entered or left its hole, and
at once proceed to induce the reptile to leave its stronghold. This is
done by putting on the trunk of the tree immediately over the hole a
bait, which the natives state to be honey, and waiting patiently, often
for many hours, until the serpent is attracted by the bait and climbs
the tree. As soon as it is clear of the hole, its retreat is cut off,
and the result of the ensuing combat is a certainty. The forked spear
which the native employs is called a bo-bo.
All the tribes which live along the eastern coast, especially those
which inhabit the northern part of the country, are in the habit of
capturing the dugong. This animal is very fond of a green, branchless,
marine alga, and ventures to the shore in order to feed upon it. The
natives are on the watch for it, and, as soon as a dugong is seen, a
canoe puts off after it.
Each canoe is furnished with paddles and a harpooner, who is armed with
a weapon very similar to that which is used by the turtle catchers,
except that no buoy is required. It is composed of a shaft some twelve
or fifteen feet in length, light at one end, and heavy at the other.
A hole is made at the heavy end, and into the hole is loosely fitted
a kind of spear head made of bone, about four inches in length, and
covered with barbs. One end of a stout and long rope is made fast to
this head, and the other is attached to the canoe.
As soon as he is within striking distance, the harpooner jumps out of
the boat into the water, striking at the same time with his weapon, so
as to add to the stroke the force of his own weight. Disengaging the
shaft, he returns to the canoe, leaving the dugong attached to it by
the rope. The wounded animal dives and tries to make its way seaward.
Strange to say, although the dugong is a large animal, often eight
feet in length, and very bulky in proportion to its length, it seldom
requires to be struck a second time, but rises to the surface and dies
in a few minutes from a wound occasioned by so apparently insignificant
a weapon as a piece of bone struck some three inches into its body.
When it is dead, it is towed ashore, and rolled up the bank to some
level spot, where preparations are at once made for cooking and eating
it.
Those who are acquainted with zoölogy are aware that the dugong is
formed much after the manner of the whale, and that it is covered first
with a tough skin and then with a layer of blubber over the muscles.
This structure, by the way, renders its succumbing to the wound of
the harpoon the more surprising. The natives always cut it up in the
same manner. The tail is sliced much as we carve a round of beef, while
the body is cut into thin slices as far as the ribs, each slice having
its own proportion of meat, blubber, and skin. The blubber is esteemed
higher than any other portion of the animal, though even the tough skin
can be rendered tolerably palatable by careful cooking.
Of all Australian animals, the kangaroo is most in favor, both on
account of the excellent quality of the flesh, and the quantity which
a single kangaroo will furnish. It is hardly necessary to remind the
reader that with the Australian, as with other savages, quantity is
considered rather than quality. A full grown “boomah” kangaroo will,
when standing upright, in its usual attitude of defence, measure nearly
six feet in height, and is of very considerable weight. And, when an
Australian kills a kangaroo, he performs feats of gluttony to which
the rest of the world can scarcely find a parallel, and certainly not
a superior. Give an Australian a kangaroo and he will eat until he
is nearly dead from repletion; and he will go on eating, with short
intervals of rest, until he has finished the entire kangaroo.
Like other savage creatures, whether human or otherwise, he is capable
of bearing deprivation of food to a wonderful extent; and his patient
endurance of starvation, when food is not to be obtained, is only to be
excelled by his gluttony when it is plentiful. This curious capacity
for alternate gluttony and starvation is fostered by the innately lazy
disposition of the Australian savage, and his utter disregard for the
future. The animal that ought to serve him and his family for a week is
consumed in a few hours; and, as long as he does not feel the pain of
absolute hunger, nothing can compel the man to leave his rude couch and
go off on a hunting expedition. But when he does make up his mind to
hunt, he has a bulldog sort of tenacity which forbids him to relinquish
the chase until he has been successful in bringing down his game.
CHAPTER LXXI.
AUSTRALIA--_Continued_.
WEAPONS OF THE AUSTRALIANS, THEIR FORMS AND USES -- THE CLUB OR
WADDY, AND ITS VARIOUS FORMS -- USES OF THE WADDY -- A DOMESTIC
PANACEA -- AN AUSTRALIAN DUEL -- THICK SKULLS OF THE NATIVES -- LOVE
OF THE NATIVE FOR HIS WADDY -- THE BLACK POLICE FORCE -- THE MISSILE
WADDY -- THE KATTA, OR DIGGING-STICK, AND ITS VARIED USES -- HOW
AN AUSTRALIAN DIGS A HOLE -- THE STONE TOMAHAWK AND ITS USE -- THE
ASCENT OF TREES -- HOW AN AUSTRALIAN KNOWS WHETHER AN ANIMAL IS IN A
TREE -- SMOKING OUT THE PREY -- THE BLACK-BOY GUM -- THE GRASS-TREE
OF AUSTRALIA -- THE AUSTRALIAN SAW.
As in the course of the following pages all the weapons of the
Australian will have to be mentioned, we will take the opportunity of
describing them at once, without troubling ourselves as to the peculiar
locality in which each modification is found.
We will begin with the club, the simplest of all weapons. Several
examples of the club are to be seen in the illustration entitled
“Australian Clubs,” on the 722d page. All the figures are drawn from
actual specimens, some belonging to my own collection, some being
sketched from examples in the British Museum, and others being taken
from the fine collection of Colonel Lane Fox.
The simplest form of Australian club is that which is known by the name
of “waddy,” and which is the favorite weapon of an Australian savage,
who never seems to be happy without a waddy in his hands, no matter
what other weapons he may happen to carry. One of these waddies may be
seen at fig. 4. and another at fig. 5. The latter is a specimen in my
own collection, and affords a very good example of the true Australian
waddy. It is made of the tough and heavy wood of the gum-tree, and is
really a most effective weapon, well balanced, and bears marks of long
usage. The length is two feet eight inches, and, as the reader may see
from the illustration, it is sharpened at the point, so that in close
combat it can be used for stabbing as well as for striking. It weighs
exactly twenty-one ounces.
Four deep grooves run along the waddy, from the point to the spot where
it is grasped, and seem to be intended as edges whereby a blow may cut
through the skin as well as inflict a bruise. Besides these grooves,
there are sundry carvings which the native evidently has thought to be
ornamental. On two of the sides the pattern is merely the double-headed
T seen in the illustration, but on the other two sides the pattern is
varied. In every case the top figure is the double T; but on one side
there is first a T, then a cross with curved arms, then a T, and then a
pattern that looks something like a key, having a bow at each end. The
fourth side is evidently unfinished, there being only two patterns on
it; the second, evidently an attempt to imitate the letter B, showing
that the maker had some acquaintance with civilization.
With this waddy the native is better armed than most men would be
with the keenest sword that ever was forged, and with it he strikes
and stabs with marvellous rapidity, seeming to be actuated, when in
combat, by an uncontrollable fury. He can use it as a missile with
deadly effect; and if, as is generally the case, he has several of
these waddies in his hand, he will hurl one or two of them in rapid
succession, and, while the antagonist is still attempting to avoid the
flying weapon, precipitate himself upon the foe, and attack him with
the waddy which he has reserved for hand-to-hand combat.
The waddy is the Australian panacea for domestic troubles, and if one
of his wives should presume to have an opinion of her own, or otherwise
to offend her dusky lord, a blow on the head from the ever-ready waddy
settles the dispute at once by leaving her senseless on the ground.
Sometimes the man strikes the offender on a limb, and breaks it; but he
does not do this unless he should be too angry to calculate that, by
breaking his slave’s arm or leg, he deprives himself of her services
for a period.
With the Australian man of honor the waddy takes the place which the
pistol once held in England and the United States, and is the weapon
by which disputes are settled. In case two Australians of reputation
should fall out, one of them challenges the other to single combat,
sending him a derisive message to the effect that he had better
bring his stoutest waddy with him, so that he may break it on the
challenger’s head.
Thickness of skull--a reproach in some parts of the world--is among
the Australians a matter of great boast, and one Australian can hardly
insult another in more contemptuous words than by comparing his skull
to an emu’s egg-shell. I have examined several skulls of Australian
natives, and have been much surprised by two points: the first is the
astonishing thickness and hardness of the bone, which seems capable of
resisting almost any blow that could be dealt by an ordinary weapon;
and the second is the amount of injury which an Australian skull can
endure. Owing to the thickness of the skull, the Australian puts his
head to strange uses, one of the oddest of which is his custom of
breaking sticks on his head instead of snapping them across the knee.
In due time the combatants appear on the ground, each bearing his
toughest and heaviest waddy, and attended by his friends. After going
through the usual gesticulations and abuse which always precede a duel
between savages, the men set definitely to work.
The challenged individual takes his waddy, and marches out into the
middle of the space left by the spectators. His adversary confronts
him, but unarmed, and stooping low, with his hands on his knees, he
offers his head to the opponent. The adversary executes a short dance
of delight at the blow which he is going to deal, and then, after
taking careful aim, he raises his waddy high in the air, and brings it
down with all his force on the head of his foe.
The blow would fell an ordinary ox; but the skull of an Australian is
made of sterner stuff than that of a mere ox, and the man accordingly
raises himself, rubs his head, and holds out his hand to his nearest
friend, who gives him the waddy, which he is about to use in his turn.
The challenged man now takes his turn at stooping, while the challenger
does his best to smash the skull of the antagonist. Each man, however,
knows from long experience the hardest part of his own skull, and takes
care to present it to the enemy’s blow. In this way they continue to
exchange blows until one of them falls to the ground, when the victory
is decided to remain with his antagonist.
In consequence of the repeated injuries to which the head of a native
Australian is subjected, the skull of a warrior presents, after death,
a most extraordinary appearance, being covered with dents, fractures,
and all kinds of injuries, any one of which would have killed an
European immediately, but which seems to have only caused temporary
inconvenience to the Australian.
So fond is the Australian of his waddy, that even in civilized life
he cannot be induced to part with it. Some of my readers may be aware
that a great number of captives are now enrolled among the police,
and render invaluable service to the community, especially against
the depredations of their fellow-blacks whom they persecute with a
relentless vigor that seems rather surprising to those who do not know
the singular antipathy which invariably exists between wild and tamed
animals, whether human or otherwise. In fact, the Australian native
policeman is to the colonist what the “Totty” of South Africa is to the
Dutch and English colonists, what the Ghoorka or Sikh of India is to
the English army, and what the tamed elephant of Ceylon or India is to
the hunter.
These energetic “black fellows” are armed with the ordinary weapons of
Europeans, and are fully acquainted with their use. But there is not
one of them who thinks himself properly armed unless he has his waddy;
and, when he enters the bush in search of native thieves, he will lay
aside the whole of his clothing, except the cap which marks his office,
will carry his gun with him, buckle his cartouch-pouch round his naked
waist, and will take his waddy as a weapon, without which even the gun
would seem to him an insufficient weapon.
This form of waddy (fig. 4), although it is often used as a missile,
is not the one which the native prefers for that purpose. His throwing
waddy or “wadna,” is much shorter and heavier, and very much resembles
the short missile club used so effectively by the Polynesians. Two
other forms of waddy are shown at figs. 3 and 5, the latter of which
is generally known by the name of “piccaninny waddy,” because it is
generally smaller and lighter than the others, and can be used by a
child.
Nos. 1 and 2 are also clubs, but are made in a different form, and used
in a different manner. If the reader will refer to the account of the
Abyssinian curved sword, or shotel, he will see that in general form it
much resembles this club, the long pointed head of each being equally
useful in striking downward over a shield. This weapon is not only
used in combat, but is employed in the native dances to beat time by
repeated strokes on the shield.
[Illustration: TOMAHAWKS. (See page 723.)]
[Illustration: AUSTRALIAN CLUBS. (See page 719.)]
[Illustration: TATTOOING CHISELS. (See page 801.)]
[Illustration: AUSTRALIAN SAW. (See page 726.)]
[Illustration: MAN OF TORRES STRAIT. (See page 705.)]
[Illustration: BASKET. (See page 699.)]
The reader will notice that many of these clubs have the ends of the
handles pointed. This formation is partly for the purpose of increasing
their efficiency as offensive weapons, and partly for another object.
As was the case with the warriors of the Iliad, both combatants will
occasionally rest, and give each other time to breathe, before renewing
the fight. During these intervals the Australian combatants squat down,
dig up the earth with the handle of the club, and rub their hands with
the dusty soil, in order to prevent the weapons from slipping out of
their grasp.
This club is made in a very ingenious way, the artificer taking
advantage of some gnarled branch, and cutting it so that the grain of
the wood follows the curve, or rather the angle of the head, which
adds greatly to its strength. A club of almost the same shape, and
cut similarly from the angle of a branch, is used in New Caledonia,
and, but for the great superiority of the workmanship, might easily be
mistaken for the angular club of the Australian.
This particular form of club has a tolerably wide range, and among the
tribes which inhabit the shores of Encounter Bay is called Marpangye.
In many parts of Australia the natives have a curious weapon which much
resembles a sword. It is from three to four feet in length, is flat,
about three inches in width, and has the outer edge somewhat sharpened.
Being made of the close-grained wood of the gum-tree, it is very heavy
in proportion to its size, and in practised hands is a most formidable
weapon.
The Australian women carry an instrument which is sometimes thought to
be a spear, and sometimes a club, but which in the hands of a woman
is neither, though a man will sometimes employ it for either purpose.
It is simply a stick of variable length, sharpened at one end and the
point hardened by fire. It is called by the natives the “katta,” and is
popularly known by the appropriate name of the digging-stick.
With this stick the natives contrive to dig up the ground in a most
astonishing manner, and an English “navvy,” with his pick, spade, and
barrow, would feel considerably surprised at the work which is done
by the naked black, who has no tools except a pointed stick. Let, for
example, a navvy be set to work at the task of digging out an echidna
from its hole, and he would find his powers of digging baffled by the
burrowing capabilities of the animal, which would make its way through
the earth faster than could the navvy. In order to sink some six
feet deep into the ground, the white man would be obliged to make a
funnel-shaped hole of very large size, so as to allow him to work in
it, and to give the pick and spade free play as he threw out the soil.
The black man, on the contrary, would have no such difficulty, but
knows how to sink a hole without troubling himself to dig a foot
of needless soil. This he does by handling the katta precisely as
the Bosjesman handles his digging-stick, _i. e._ by holding it
perpendicularly, jobbing the hardened point into the ground, and
throwing out with his hands the loosened earth.
In digging out one of the burrowing animals, the black hunter pushes
a long and flexible stick down the hole, draws it out, measures along
the ground to the spot exactly above the end of the burrow, replaces
the stick, and digs down upon it. By the time that he has reached it,
the animal has gone on digging, and has sunk its burrow still further.
The stick is then pushed into the lengthened burrow, and again dug down
upon; and the process is repeated until the tired animal can dig no
more, and is captured. The katta also takes the part of a weapon, and
can be wielded very effectively by a practised hand, being used either
for striking or thrusting.
We now come to a curious instrument which is often thought to be a
weapon, but which, although it would answer such a purpose very well,
is seldom used for it. This is the tomahawk, or hammer, as it is
generally called. Three varieties of the tomahawk are given in the
illustration “Tomahawks” on the 722d page. In all of them the cutting
part is made of stone and the handle of wood, and the head and the
handle are joined in several different ways, according to the fashion
of the locality in which the instrument is made. The simplest plan
is that which is shown in fig. 1. In this instrument, a conveniently
shaped piece of stone has been selected for a head, and the handle is
made of a flexible stick bent over it, and the two ends firmly lashed
together, just as the English blacksmith makes handles for his punches
and cold chisels. This weapon was made in New South Wales.
At fig. 3 is shown a tomahawk of a more elaborate construction. Here
the stone head has been lashed to the shaft by a thong, which is
wrapped over it in a way that exactly resembles the lashing employed
by the New Zealander or the Dyak for the same purpose. The tomahawk at
fig. 4 is, however, the best example of the instrument, and is taken
from a specimen in the British Museum. The handle and head are shaped
much like those of fig. 3, but the fastening is much more elaborate.
In the first place, the head is held to the handle by lashings of
sinews, which are drawn from the tail of the kangaroo, and always kept
in readiness by the Australian savage. The sinews are steeped in hot
water, and pounded between two stones, in order to separate them into
fibres; and, while still wet and tolerably elastic, they are wrapped
round the stone and the handle. Of course, as they dry, they contract
with great force, and bind the head and handle together far more
securely than can be done with any other material. Even raw hide does
not hold so firmly as sinew.
When the sinew lashing is perfectly dry, the native takes a quantity
of the peculiar substance called “black-boy” wax, and kneads it over
the head and the end of the handle, so as to bind everything firmly
together.
Another instrument is shown at fig. 2, in which the combination of
stone and vegetable is managed in another way. The blade is formed from
a piece of quartz about as long as a man’s hand, which has been chipped
into the form of a spear-head. The handle, instead of being a piece
of wood, is simply a number of fibres made into a bundle. The base of
the stone head has been pushed among the loose ends of the fibres, and
then the whole has been bound firmly together by a lashing of string
made of reeds. This is a sort of dagger; and another form of the same
instrument is made by simply sharpening a stick about eighteen inches
in length, and hardening the sharpened end in the fire. It is, in fact,
a miniature katta, but is applied to a different purpose.
These axes and daggers have been mentioned together, because they are
used for the same purpose, namely, the ascent of trees.
Active as a monkey, the Australian native can climb any tree that
grows. Should they be of moderate size, he ascends them, not by
clasping the trunk with his legs and arms (the mode which is generally
used in England), and which is popularly called “swarming.” Instead
of passing his legs and arms round the tree-trunk as far as they can
go, he applies the soles of his feet to it in front, and presses a
hand against it on either side, and thus ascends the tree with the
rapidity of a squirrel. This mode of ascent is now taught at every good
gymnasium in England, and is far superior to the old fashion, which has
the disadvantage of slowness, added to the certainty of damaging the
clothes.
Those who have seen our own acrobats performing the feat called _La
Perche_, in which one man balances another on the top of a pole, or the
extraordinary variations on it performed by the Japanese jugglers, who
balance poles and ladders on the soles of their feet, will be familiar
with the manner in which one of the performers runs up the pole which
is balanced by his companion. It is by this method that the Australian
ascends a tree of moderate dimensions, and, when he is well among the
boughs, he traverses them with perfect certainty and quickness.
Trees which will permit the man to ascend after this fashion are,
however, rather scarce in the Australian forests, and, moreover, there
is comparatively little inducement to climb them, the hollows in which
the bees make their nests and the beasts take up their diurnal abode
being always in the branch or trunk of some old and decaying tree. Some
of these trees are so large that their trunks are veritable towers of
wood, and afford no hold to the hands; yet they are ascended by the
natives as rapidly as if they were small trees.
By dint of constant practice, the Australian never passes a tree
without casting a glance at the bark, and by that one glance he will
know whether he will need to mount it. The various arboreal animals,
especially the so called opossums, cannot ascend the tree without
leaving marks of their claws in the bark. There is not an old tree that
has not its bark covered with scratches, but the keen and practised
eye of the native can in a moment distinguish between the ascending
and descending marks of the animal, and can also determine the date at
which they were made.
The difference between the marks of an ascending and descending animal
is easy enough to see when it has once been pointed out. When an animal
climbs a tree, the marks of its claws are little more than small
holes, with a slight scratch above each, looking something like the
conventional “tears” of heraldry. But, when it descends, it does so
by a series of slippings and catchings, so that the claws leave long
scratches behind them. Nearly all arboreal animals, with the exception
of the monkey tribe, leave marks of a similar character, and the bear
hunter of North America and the possum hunter of Australia are guided
by similar marks.
Should the native hunter see an ascending mark of more recent date
than the other scratches, he knows that somewhere in the tree lies his
intended prey. Accordingly, he lays on the ground everything that may
impede him, and, going to the tree-trunk, he begins to deliver a series
of chopping blows with his axe. These blows are delivered in pairs,
and to an Englishman present rather a ludicrous reminiscence of the
postman’s double rap. By each of these double blows he chops a small
hole in the tree, and manages so as to cut them alternately right and
left, and at intervals of two feet or so.
Having cut these notches as high as he can reach, he places the great
toe of his left foot in the lowermost hole, clasps the tree with his
left arm, and strikes the head of the tomahawk into the tree as high
as he can reach. Using the tomahawk as a handle by which he can pull
himself up, he lodges the toe of his right foot in the second hole, and
is then enabled to shift the toe of the left foot into the third hole.
Here he waits for a moment, holding tightly by both his feet and the
left hand and arm, while he cuts more notches; and, by continuing the
process, he soon reaches the top of the tree.
When he reaches the first branch, he looks carefully to find the spot
toward which the tell-tale scratches are directed, and, guided by them
alone, he soon discovers the hole in which the animal lies hidden. He
tests the dimensions of the hollow by tapping on the trunk with the
axe, and, if it should be of moderate depth, sets at work to chop away
the wood, and secure the inmate.
Should, however, the hollow be a deep one, he is obliged to have
recourse to another plan. Descending the tree by the same notches
as those by which he had climbed it, he takes from his bundle of
belongings a fire-stick, _i. e._ a sort of tinderlike wood, which keeps
up a smouldering fire, like that of the willow “touchwood” so dear to
schoolboys. Wrapping up the fire-stick in a bundle of dry grass and
leaves, he reascends the tree, and, when he has reached the entrance of
the burrow, he whirls the bundle round his head until the fire spreads
through the mass, and the grass bursts into flame.
As soon as it is well inflamed, he pushes some of the burning material
into the burrow, so as to fall upon the enclosed animal, and to rouse
it from the heavy sleep in which it passes the hours of daylight. He
also holds the rest of the torch at the entrance of the burrow, and
manages to direct the smoke into it. Did he not rouse the animal by the
burning leaves, he would run a chance of suffocating it in its sleep.
This may seem to be a very remote contingency, but in fact it is very
likely to happen. I have known a cat to be baked alive in an oven,
and yet not to have awaked from sleep, as was evident by the attitude
in which the body of the animal was found curled up, with its chin on
its paws, and its tail wrapped round its body. Yet the slumber of a
domesticated cat, which can sleep as often as it likes in the day or
night, is not nearly so deep as that which wraps in oblivion the senses
of a wild animal that is abroad all night, and whose whole structure is
intended for a nocturnal life.
The chopping holes, and getting the toes into them, seems in theory to
be rather a tedious business, but in practice it is quite the contrary,
the native ascending almost as quickly as if he were climbing a ladder.
As the large trees are so capable of containing the animals on which
the Australians feed, there is scarcely one which does not exhibit
several series of the notches that denote the track of a native.
Strange to say, the Australian hunters will not avail themselves of the
notches that have been made by other persons, but each man chops a new
series of holes for himself every time that he wants to ascend a tree.
Sometimes a man sees the track of an animal or the indication of a
bee’s nest on a tree when he happens not to have an axe in hand. In
such a case he is still able to ascend the tree, for he can make use
of the dagger which has been already described, punching holes in the
bark, and pulling himself up exactly as if he had a tomahawk, the only
difference being that the holes are smaller and the work is harder.
When the hunter has once found the entrance of the burrow, the capture
of the inmate is simply a matter of time, as the heat and smoke are
sure to force it into the air, where it has the double disadvantage of
being half-choked with smoke and being blind with the flame and the
daylight, to which its eyes are unaccustomed. A blow on the head from
the tomahawk, or a stab from the dagger, renders it senseless, when it
is flung on the ground, and the successful hunter proceeds to traverse
the tree in case some other animal may be hidden in it.
The skill of the natives in tree climbing is also exercised for
another purpose besides hunting for bees and animals. The well-known
cabbage-palm grows to a very great height, and, like other palms,
never grows quite straight, but has always a bend in the trunk. After
the manner of the palm-tribe, it grows by a succession of buds from
the top, and this bud, popularly called the “cabbage,” is a favorite
article of food. It has been called the prince of vegetables, and one
enthusiastic traveller declares that it must have been the ambrosia of
the Olympic gods. The removal of the bud causes the death of the tree,
and for that reason the vegetable is forbidden in civilized regions
under penalty of a heavy fine. The savage, however, who has no idea
of care for the morrow, much less of looking forward to future years,
takes the bud wherever he meets it, caring nothing for the death of the
useful tree. He ascends by means of a little wooden dagger, or warpoo,
or makes use of the tomahawk. The quartz dagger which was shown in a
previous illustration would not be used for tree climbing, unless the
owner could not procure a tomahawk or warpoo. Its chief use is as a
weapon, and it can be also employed as a knife, by means of which the
savage can mutilate a fallen enemy, after the manner which will be
described when we come to treat of warfare in Australia.
The “black-boy” gum, which plays so large a part in the manufacture of
Australian weapons and implements, is obtained from the grass-tree,
popularly called the “black boy,” because at a distance it may easily
be mistaken for a native, with his spear and cloak. It is very
tenacious in its own country, but when brought to England it becomes
brittle, and is apt to break away from the weapon in fragments, just as
does a similar preparation called “kurumanni” gum, which is made by the
natives of Guiana. It is quite black, and when dry is extremely hard.
The grass-tree is one of the characteristic plants of Australia, and
partakes of the strange individuality of that curious country. The
trunk is cylindrical, and looks like that of a palm, while an enormous
tuft of long leaves starts from the top and droops in all directions,
like a gigantic plume of feathers. The flower shoots up straight from
the centre; and the long stalk becomes, when dried, so hard, tough, and
light, that it is made into spear shafts.
There is in my collection an Australian saw (illustrated on page 722),
in the manufacture of which the black-boy gum plays a considerable
part. No one would take it for a saw who did not know the implement,
and indeed it looks much more like a rude dagger than a saw. It is made
from a piece of wood usually cut from a branch of the gum-tree, and
about as thick as a man’s finger at the thickest part, whence it tapers
gradually to a point. The average length of the saw is fourteen inches,
though I have seen them nearly two feet long.
Along the thicker end is cut a groove, which is intended to receive
the teeth of the saw. These teeth are made from chips of quartz or
obsidian, the latter being preferred; and some makers, who have been
brought in contact with civilization, have taken to using fragments of
glass bottles. A number of flat and sharp-edged chips are selected as
nearly as possible of the same size, and being on an average as large
as a shilling. These the natives insert into the groove with their
sharp edges uppermost. A quantity of black-boy wax is then warmed and
applied to them, the entire wood of the saw being enveloped in it, as
well as the teeth for half their depth, so as to hold them firmly in
their places. As the chips of stone are placed so as to leave little
spaces between them, the gaps are filled in with this useful cement.
For Australian work this simple tool seems to answer its purpose well
enough. Of course it is very slow in its operation, and no great force
can be applied to it, lest the teeth should be broken, or twisted out
of the cement. The use of this saw entails great waste of material,
time, and labor; but as the first two of these articles are not of the
least value to the natives, and the third is of the lightest possible
kind, the tool works well enough for its purpose. A perfect specimen of
this saw is not often seen in this country, as the black-boy wax flakes
off, and allows the teeth to drop out of their place. Even in my own
specimen, which has been carefully tended, the wax has been chipped
off here and there, while in instruments that have been knocked about
carelessly scarcely a tooth is left in its place. Owing to the pointed
end of the handle, the saw can be used after the fashion of a dagger,
and can be employed, like the warpoo, for the ascent of trees.
CHAPTER LXXII.
AUSTRALIA--_Continued_.
THE AUSTRALIAN SPEAR AND ITS MANY FORMS -- THE THROWING-SPEAR OR
JAVELIN -- A GROUP OF AUSTRALIAN SPEARS -- THE LIGHTNESS OF THE SHAFT
-- THE MANY-POINTED FISH-SPEAR -- INGENIOUS MODE OF TIPPING THE
POINTS WITH BONE, AND FASTENING THEM TO THE SHAFT -- ELASTICITY OF
THE POINTS -- DOUBLE USE AS PADDLE AND SPEAR -- AN ELABORATELY-MADE
WEAPON -- FLINT-HEADED SPEARS -- EXCELLENCE OF THE AUSTRALIAN AS A
THROWER OF MISSILES -- THE CLUB, THE STONE, AND THE “KANGAROO-RAT”
-- THE THROW-STICK, MIDLAH, OR WUMMERAH -- PRINCIPLE ON WHICH IT IS
CONSTRUCTED -- MODES OF QUIVERING THE SPEAR -- DISTANCE TO WHICH IT
CAN BE THROWN -- THE UNDERHAND THROW -- ACCURACY OF AIM -- SPEARING
THE KANGAROO -- THE BOW AND ARROW -- STRENGTH OF THE BOW -- THE
RATTAN STRING AND INGENIOUS KNOT -- CAREFUL MANUFACTURE OF THE ARROWS
-- PRESUMED ORIGIN OF THE WEAPONS -- THE BOOMERANG AND ITS VARIOUS
FORMS -- MODE OF THROWING THE WEAPON -- ITS PROBABLE ORIGIN --
STRUCTURE OF THE BOOMERANG -- THE AUSTRALIAN SHIELD, ITS FORMS AND
USES -- THE WOODEN AND THE BARK SHIELDS.
We now come to the various forms of the spears which are used by the
native Australians.
The usual weapon is slight, and scarcely exceeds in diameter the
assagai of Southern Africa. It is, however, considerable longer, the
ordinary length being from nine to eleven feet. As a general rule, the
spear is constructed after a very rude fashion, and the maker seems
to care but little whether the shaft be perfectly straight, so that
the weapon be tolerably well balanced. There are several specimens of
Australian spears in my collection, one of which (a weapon that has
evidently been a favorite one, as it shows marks of long usage) is
twice bent, the second bend counteracting the former, and so bringing
the weapon tolerably straight.
The butt of the Australian spear, like that of the South African
assagai, is very slight, the shaft tapering gradually from the head,
which is about as large as a man’s finger, to the butt, where it is
hardly thicker than an artist’s pencil. This, being one of the common
spears, is simply sharpened at the end, and a few slight barbs cut in
the wood. I have, however, specimens in which there is almost every
variety of material, dimensions, and structure that can be found in
Australia.
Some of these are made on the same principle as that which has just
been described, but differ from it in having a separate head, made of
hard and heavy wood. This is deeply cut with barbs; so that the weapon
is a more formidable one than that which is made simply from one piece
of wood. The head of one of these spears is shown at fig. 7 in the
illustration “Heads of Spears,” on page 731.
Several of the spears are perfectly plain, being simply long sticks,
pointed at the larger end. These, however, have been scraped very
carefully, and seem to have had more pains bestowed upon them than
those with more elaborate heads. These spears are about eight feet in
length.
Then there are other spears with a variable number of heads, and of
variable dimensions. The commonest form of multiheaded spears has
either three or four points; but in every other respect, except number,
the spear heads are constructed in the same manner. One of these
spears, now before me, has a shaft about nine feet in length, and
rather more than an inch in diameter at the thickest part, which, as is
usual with Australian spears, is just below the head. The wood of which
it is made is exceedingly light and porous; but this very quality has
unfortunately made it so acceptable to the ptilinus beetles that they
have damaged it sadly, and rendered it so brittle that a very slight
shock would snap it. Indeed, the shaft of one of them was broken into
three pieces by a little child stumbling against it while coming down
stairs.
The four points which constitute the head are cut from the gum-tree,
the wood of which is hard and durable, and can be trimmed to a very
sharp point without danger of breakage. Each of them is twenty inches
in length, and they are largest in the middle, tapering slightly at one
end so as to permit of their being fastened to the shaft, and being
scraped to a fine point at the other end.
On examination I find that the large end of the shaft has been cut into
four grooves, in each of which is placed the butt end of one of the
points, which is fixed temporarily by black-boy gum. Wedgelike pegs
have then been pushed between the points, so as to make them diverge
properly from each other, and, when they have assumed the proper
position, they have been tightly bound together with cord. A layer of
black-boy gum has then been kneaded over the string, so as to keep all
firmly together.
So much for the mode of putting on the points, the end of one of which
may be seen at fig. 3 in the illustration. My own specimen, however, is
better made than that from which the sketch has been taken. The reader
will perceive that there is a barb attached to the point, and lashed in
its place by string. In my specimen the barb is made of a piece of bone
about as long as a skewer, and sharply pointed at both ends. In the
example shown in the illustration, the barb merely projects from the
side of the point, whereas in my specimen the bone answers the purpose
both of point and barb. In order to enable it to take the proper
direction, the top of the wooden point is bevelled off, and the piece
of bone lashed to it by the middle, so that one end becomes the point
of the weapon, and the other end does duty for the barb. Wishing to see
how this was done, I have cut away part of the lashings of one of the
four points, and have been much struck with the ingenuity displayed
by the maker in fastening the bone to the point, so as to make it
discharge its double duty. The barbs are all directed inward, so that,
when the native makes a stroke at a fish, the slippery prey is caught
between the barbs, and held there just as is an eel between the prongs
of the spear. The elasticity of the four long points causes them to
diverge when they come upon the back of a fish, and to contract tightly
upon it, so that the points of the barbs are pressed firmly into its
sides.
This spear also stands the native instead of a paddle, and with it he
contrives to guide his fragile bark with moderate speed. How he manages
to stand erect in so frail a vessel, to paddle about, to strike the
fish, and, lastly, to haul the struggling prey aboard, is really a
marvel. The last-mentioned feat is the most wonderful, as the fish are
often of considerable size, and the mere leverage of their weight at
the end of a ten-foot spear, added to the violent struggles which the
wounded fish makes, seems sufficient to upset a far more stable vessel.
Yet the natives manage to pass hour after hour without meeting with an
accident, and in one of their tiny boats, which seem scarcely large
enough to hold a single European, even though he should be accustomed
to the narrow outrigger skiff, or the comparatively modern canoe, two
men will be perfectly comfortable, spearing and hauling in their fish,
and even cooking them with a fire made on an extemporized hearth of wet
sand and stones in the middle of the canoe.
Night is the favorite time for fish spearing, and then the sight of a
number of natives engaged in the watery chase is a most picturesque
one. They carry torches, by means of which they see to the bottom of
the water, and which have also the advantage of dazzling the fish; and
the effect of the constantly moving torches, the shifting glare on the
rippled water, and the dark figures moving about, some searching for
fish, others striking, and others struggling with the captured prey, is
equally picturesque and exciting. The torches which they use are made
of inflammable bark: and the whole scene is almost precisely like that
which is witnessed in “burning the water,” in North America, or, to
come nearer home, “leistering” in Scotland.
In the daytime they cannot use the torch, and, as the slightest breeze
will cause a ripple on the surface of the water that effectually
prevents them from seeing the fish, they have an ingenious plan of
lying flat across the canoe, with the upper part of the head and the
eyes immersed in the water, and the hand grasping the spear ready for
the stroke. The eyes being under the ripple, they can see distinctly
enough.
I have often employed this plan when desirous of watching the
proceedings of sub-aquatic animals. It is very effectual, though after
a time the attitude becomes rather fatiguing, and those who are not
gymnasts enough to be independent as to the relative position of their
heads and heels are apt to find themselves giddy from the determination
of blood to the head.
Another spear, also used for fishing, and with an elaborate head, is
seen at fig 8. In this spear one point is iron, and the other two are
bone. The weapon is remarkable for the manner in which the shaft is
allowed to project among the points, and for the peculiar mode in which
the various parts are lashed together. This specimen comes from the
Lower Murray River.
There is in my collection a weapon which was brought from Cape York. It
is a fishing spear, and at first sight greatly resembles that which has
just been described. It is, however, of a more elaborate character, and
deserves a separate description. It is seven feet in length, and very
slender, the thickest part of the shaft not being more than half an
inch in diameter. It has four points, two of which are iron and without
barbs, the iron being about the thickness of a crow-quill, and rather
under three inches in length. The two bone points are made from the
flat tail-bone of one of the rays, and, being arranged with the point
of the bone in front, each of these points has a double row of barbs
directed backward, one running along each edge.
At fig. 6 of the same illustration is seen a very formidable variety of
the throwing-spear. Along each side of the head the native warrior has
cut a groove, and has stuck in it a number of chips of flint or quartz,
fastened in their places by the black-boy gum, just as has been related
of the saw. The workmanship of this specimen is, however, far ruder
than that of the saw, the pieces of flint not being the same size, nor
so carefully adjusted. Indeed, it seems as if the saw maker laid aside
the fragments of flint which he rejected for the tool, and afterward
used them in arming the head of his spear. One of these weapons in
my collection is armed on one side of the head only, along which are
arranged four pieces of obsidian having very jagged edges, and being
kept in their places by a thick coating of black-boy gum extending to
the very point of the spear.
At figs. 4 and 5 of the same illustration are seen two spear heads
which remind the observer of the flint weapons which have of late years
been so abundantly found in various parts of the world, and which
belonged to races of men now long extinct. The spear heads are nearly
as large as a man’s hand, and are made of flint chipped carefully into
the required shape. They are flat, and the maker has had sufficient
knowledge of the cleavage to enable him to give to each side a sharp
and tolerably uniform edge. It will be observed that fig. 5 is much
darker than fig. 4. This distinction is not accidental, but very well
expresses the variety in the hue of the material employed, some of the
spear heads being pale brown, and some almost black. The weapons are,
in fact, nothing but elongations of the dagger shown in fig. 2, of the
“tomahawks,” on page 722.
If the reader will look at figs. 1 and 2 of the illustration, he will
see that there are two heads of somewhat similar construction, except
that one is single and the other double. These spears were brought from
Port Essington.
Specimens of each kind are in my collection. They are of great size,
one being more than thirteen feet in length, and the other falling but
little short of that measurement. In diameter they are as thick as a
man’s wrist; and, however light may be the wood of which they are made,
they are exceedingly weighty, and must be very inferior in efficiency
to the light throwing-spears which have already been described. Of
course such a weapon as that is meant to be used as a pike, and not
as a missile. Besides these, I have another with three heads, and of
nearly the same dimensions as the two others.
In every case the head and the shaft are of different material, the one
being light and porous, and the other hard, compact, and heavy. Instead
of being lashed together with the neatness which is exhibited in the
lighter weapons, the head and shaft are united with a binding of thick
string, wrapped carefully, but yet roughly, round the weapon, and not
being covered with the coating of black-boy gum, which gives so neat a
look to the smaller weapons. In the three-pointed spear, the maker has
exercised his ingenuity in decorating the weapon with paint, the tips
of the points being painted with red and the rest of the head white,
while the lashing is also painted red.
In his wild state the Australian native never likes to be without a
spear in his hand, and, as may be expected from a man whose subsistence
is almost entirely due to his skill in the use of weapons, he is a most
accomplished spear thrower. Indeed, as a thrower of missiles in general
the Australian stands without a rival. Putting aside the boomerang, of
which we shall presently treat, the Australian can hurl a spear either
with his hand or with the “throw-stick,” can fling his short club with
unerring aim, and, even should he be deprived of these missiles, he
has a singular faculty of throwing stones. Many a time, before the
character of the natives was known, has an armed soldier been killed
by a totally unarmed Australian. The man has fired at the native, who,
by dodging about, has prevented the enemy from taking a correct aim,
and then has been simply cut to pieces by a shower of stones, picked up
and hurled with a force and precision that must be seen to be believed.
When the first Australian discoverer came home, no one would believe
that any weapon could be flung and then return to the thrower, and
even at the present day it is difficult to make some persons believe
in the stone-throwing powers of the Australian. To fling one stone
with perfect precision is not so easy a matter as it seems, but the
Australian will hurl one after the other with such rapidity that they
seem to be poured from some machine; and as he throws them he leaps
from side to side, so as to make the missiles converge from different
directions upon the unfortunate object of his aim.
In order to attain the wonderful skill which they possess in avoiding
as well as in throwing spears, it is necessary that they should be
in constant practice from childhood. Accordingly, they are fond of
getting up sham fights, armed with shield, throw-stick, and spear, the
latter weapon being headless, and the end blunted by being split and
scraped into filaments, and the bushy filaments then turned back, until
they form a soft fibrous pad. Even with this protection, the weapon is
not to be despised: and if it strike one of the combatants fairly, it
is sure to knock him down: and if it should strike him in the ribs, it
leaves him gasping for breath. This mimic spear goes by the name of
“matamoodlu,” and is made of various sizes according to the age and
capabilities of the person who uses it.
There is one missile which is, I believe, as peculiar to Australia as
the boomerang, though it is not so widely spread, nor of such use in
war or hunting. It is popularly called the “kangaroo-rat,” on account
of its peculiar leaping progression, and it may be familiar to those of
my readers who saw the Australian cricketers who came over to England
in the spring of 1808. The “kangaroo-rat” is a piece of hard wood
shaped like a double cone, and having a long flexible handle projecting
from one of the points. The handle is about a yard in length, and
as thick as an artist’s drawing-pencil, and at a little distance
the weapon looks like a huge tadpole with a much elongated tail. In
Australia the natives make the tail of a flexible twig, but those
who have access to the resources of civilization have found out that
whalebone is the best substance for the tail that can be found.
When the native throws the kangaroo-rat, he takes it by the end of the
tail and swings it backward and forward, so that it bends quite double,
and at last he gives a sort of underhanded jerk and lets it fly. It
darts through the air with a sharp and menacing hiss like the sound of
a rifle ball, its greatest height being some seven or eight feet from
the ground. As soon as it touches the earth, it springs up and makes
a succession of leaps, each less than the preceding, until it finally
stops. In fact, it skims over the ground exactly as a flat stone
skims over the water when boys are playing at “ducks and drakes.” The
distance to which this instrument can be thrown is really astonishing.
I have seen an Australian stand at one side of Kennington Oval, and
throw the “kangaroo-rat” completely across it. Much depends upon the
angle at which it first takes the ground. If thrown too high, it makes
one or two lofty leaps, but traverses no great distance; and, if it
be thrown too low, it shoots along the ground, and is soon brought up
by the excessive friction. When properly thrown, it looks just like
a living animal leaping along, and those who have been accustomed
to traverse the country say that its movements have a wonderful
resemblance to the long leaps of a kangaroo-rat fleeing in alarm, with
its long tail trailing as a balance behind it.
A somewhat similarly shaped missile is used in Fiji, but the Fijian
instrument has a stiff shaft, and it is propelled by placing the end
of the forefinger against the butt, and throwing it underhanded. It is
only used in a game in which the competitors try to send it skimming
along the ground as far as possible.
* * * * *
To return to our spears. It is seldom that an Australian condescends to
throw a spear by hand, the native always preferring to use the curious
implement called by the aborigines a “wummerah,” or “midlah,” and by
the colonists the “throw-stick.” The theory of the throw-stick is
simple enough, but the practice is very difficult, and requires a long
apprenticeship before it can be learned with any certainty.
The principle of this implement is that of the sling; and the
throw-stick is, in fact, a sling made of wood instead of cord, the
spear taking the place of the stone. So completely is the throw-stick
associated with the spear, that the native would as soon think of
going without his spear as without the instrument whereby he throws
it. The implement takes different forms in different localities,
although the principle of its construction is the same throughout. In
the illustration entitled “Throw-sticks,” on page 731, the reader may
see every variety of form which the throw-stick takes. He will see, on
inspecting the figures, that it consists of a stick of variable length
and breadth, but always having a barblike projection at one end. Before
describing the manner in which the instrument is used, I will proceed
to a short notice of the mode of its construction, and the various
forms which it takes.
In the first place, it is always more or less flattened; sometimes,
as in fig. 3, being almost leaf-shaped, and sometimes, as in fig. 6,
being quite narrow, and throughout the greater part of its length
little more than a flattened stick. It is always made of some hard and
elastic wood, and in many cases it is large and heavy enough to be
serviceable as a club at close quarters. Indeed, one very good specimen
in my collection, which came from the Swan River, was labelled, when it
reached me, as an Indian club. This form of the throw-stick is shown at
fig. 3.
This particular specimen is a trifle under two feet in length, and
in the broadest part it measures four inches and a half in width. In
the centre it is one-sixth of an inch in thickness, and diminishes
gradually to the edges, which are about as sharp as those of the
wooden sword already mentioned. Toward the end, however, it becomes
thicker, and at the place where the peg is placed it is as thick as
in the middle. Such a weapon would be very formidable if used as a
club--scarcely less so, indeed, than the well-known “merai” of New
Zealand.
[Illustration: HEADS OF AUSTRALIAN SPEARS. (See page 727.)]
[Illustration: THROW-STICKS. (See page 730.)]
[Illustration: BOOMERANGS. (See page 737.)]
That it has been used for this purpose is evident from a fracture,
which has clearly been caused by the effect of a severe blow. The
wood is split from one side of the handle half along the weapon,
and so it has been rendered for a time unserviceable. The careful
owner has, however, contrived to mend the fracture, and has done so
in a singularly ingenious manner. He has fitted the broken surfaces
accurately together, and has then bound them with the kangaroo-tail
sinews which have already been mentioned. The sinews are flat, and have
been protected by a thick coating of black-boy gum. Perhaps the reader
may be aware that, when catgut is knotted, the ends are secured by
scorching them, which makes them swell into round knobs. The sinew has
the same property, and the native has secured the ends precisely as an
English artisan would do.
The wood is that of the tough, hard, wavy-grained gum-tree. Whether in
consequence of much handling by greasy natives, or whether from other
causes, I do not know, but I cannot make a label adhere to it. To each
of the specimens in my collection is attached a catalogue number, and
though I have tried to affix the label with paste, gum, and glue,
neither will hold it, and in a few days the label falls off of its own
accord. This specimen has been cut from a tree which has been attacked
by some boring insect, and the consequence is, that a small hole is
bored through it edgewise, and has a very curious appearance. The hole
looks exactly like that of our well-known insect, the great _Sirex_.
The peculiarly-shaped handle is made entirely of black-boy gum,
and, with the exception of a tendency to warp away from the wood,
it is as firm as on the day when it was first made. The peg which
fits into the butt of the spear is in this case made of wood, but
in many throw-sticks it is made of bone. Figs. 1 and 2 are examples
of this flattened form of midlah, and were drawn from specimens in
Southern Australia. At figs. 4 and 5 may be seen examples of the
throw-stick of Port Essington, one of which, fig. 4, is remarkable for
the peculiarly-shaped handle. That of fig. 5 seems to be remarkably
inconvenient, and almost to have been made for the express purpose of
preventing the native from taking a firm hold of the weapon. Fig. 6
is an example of the throw-stick of Queensland, and, as may easily be
seen, can be used as a club, provided that it be reversed, and the peg
end used as a handle.
There is another form of throw-stick used in Northern Australia, an
example of which may be seen at fig. 6. It is a full foot longer than
that which came from the Murray, and is one of the “flattened sticks”
which have been casually mentioned. It has a wooden spike for the
spear-butt, and a most remarkable handle. Two pieces of melon-shell
have been cut at rather long ovals, and have been fixed diagonally
across the end of the weapon, one on each side. Black-boy gum has been
profusely used in fixing these pieces, and the whole of the interior
space between the shells has been filled up with it. A diagonal lashing
of sinew, covered with the same gum, passes over the shells, and the
handle is strongly wrapped with the same material for a space of five
inches.
We will now proceed to see how the native throws the spear.
Holding the throw-stick by the handle, so that the other end projects
over his shoulder, he takes a spear in his left hand, fits a slight
hollow in its butt to the peg of the midlah, and then holds it in its
place by passing the forefinger of the right hand over the shaft. It
will be seen that the leverage is enormously increased by this plan,
and that the force of the arm is more than doubled.
Sometimes, especially when hunting, the native throws the spear without
further trouble, but when he is engaged in a fight he goes through
a series of performances which are rather ludicrous to an European,
though they are intended to strike terror into the native enemy. The
spear is jerked about violently, so that it quivers just like an
African assagai, and while vibrating strongly it is thrown. There are
two ways of quivering the spear; the one by merely moving the right
hand, and the other by seizing the shaft in the left hand, and shaking
it violently while the butt rests against the peg of the throw-stick.
In any case the very fact of quivering the spear acts on the Australian
warrior as it does upon the African. The whirring sound of the
vibrating weapon excites him to a pitch of frenzied excitement, and
while menacing his foe with the trembling spear, the warrior dances and
leaps and yells as if he were mad--and indeed for the moment he becomes
a raving madman.
The distance to which the spear can be thrown is something wonderful,
and its aspect as it passes through the air is singularly beautiful. It
seems rather to have been shot from some huge bow, or to be furnished
with some innate powers of flight, than to have been flung from a human
arm, as it performs its lofty course, undulating like a thin black
snake, and writhing its graceful way through the air. As it leaves the
throw-stick, a slight clashing sound is heard, which to the experienced
ear tells its story as clearly as the menacing clang of an archer’s
bowstring.
To me the distance of its flight is not nearly so wonderful as the
precision with which it can be aimed. A tolerably long throw-stick
gives so powerful a leverage that the length of range is not so very
astonishing. But that accuracy of aim should be attained as well as
length of flight is really wonderful. I have seen the natives, when
engaged in mock battle, stand at a distance of eighty or ninety yards,
and throw their spears with such certainty that, in four throws out of
six, the antagonist was obliged to move in order to escape the spears.
Beside the powerful and lofty throw, they have a way of suddenly
flinging it underhand, so that it skims just above the ground, and,
when it touches the earth, proceeds with a series of ricochets that
must be peculiarly embarrassing to a novice in that kind of warfare.
The power of the spear is never better shown than in the chase of the
kangaroo. When a native sees one of these animals engaged in feeding,
he goes off to a little distance where it cannot see him, gathers a
few leafy boughs, and ties them together so as to form a screen. He
then takes his spears, throw-stick, and waddy, and goes off in chase
of the kangaroo. Taking advantage of every cover, he slips noiselessly
forward, always taking care to approach the animal against the wind, so
that it shall not be able to detect his presence by the nostrils, and
gliding along with studied avoidance of withered leaves, dry twigs, and
the other natural objects which, by their rustling and snapping, warn
the animal that danger is at hand.
As long as possible, the hunter keeps under the shelter of natural
cover, but when this is impossible, he takes to his leafy screen, and
trusts to it for approaching within range. Before quitting the trees
or bush behind which he has been hiding himself, he takes his spear,
fits it to the throw-stick, raises his arm with the spear ready poised,
and never moves that arm until it delivers the spear. Holding the
leafy screen in front of him with his left hand, and disposing the
second spear and other weapons which cannot be hidden so as to look
like dead branches growing from the bush, he glides carefully toward
the kangaroo, always advancing while it stoops to feed, and crouching
quietly behind the screen whenever it raises itself, after the fashion
of kangaroos, and surveys the surrounding country.
At last he comes within fair range, and with unerring aim he transfixes
the unsuspecting kangaroo. Sometimes he comes upon several animals,
and in that case his second spear is rapidly fixed in the midlah and
hurled at the flying animals, and, should he have come to tolerably
close quarters, the short missile club is flung with certain aim.
Having thrown all the missiles which he finds available, he proceeds to
despatch the wounded animals with his waddy.
In the illustration No. 1, on the 739th page, the action of the
throw-stick is well shown, and two scenes in the hunt are depicted.
In the foreground is a hunter who has succeeded in getting tolerably
close to the kangaroos by creeping toward them behind the shadow of
trees, and is just poising his spear for the fatal throw. The reader
will note the curious bone ornament which passes through the septum
of the nose, and gives such a curious character to the face. In the
background is another hunter, who has been obliged to have recourse to
the bough screen, behind which he is hiding himself like the soldiers
in “Macbeth,” while the unsuspecting kangaroos are quietly feeding
within easy range. One of them has taken alarm, and is sitting upright
to look about it, just as the squirrel will do while it is feeding on
the ground.
The reader will now see the absolute necessity of an accurate aim in
the thrower--an accomplishment which to me is a practical mystery.
I can hurl the spear to a considerable distance by means of a
throw-stick, but the aim is quite another business, the spear seeming
to take an independent course of its own without the least reference
to the wishes of the thrower. Yet the Australian is so good a marksman
that he can make good practice at a man at the distance of eighty or
ninety yards, making due allowance for the wind, and calculating the
curve described by the spear with wonderful accuracy; while at a short
distance his eye and hand are equally true, and he will transfix a
kangaroo at twenty or thirty yards as certainly as it could be shot by
an experienced rifleman.
In some parts of Australia the natives use the bow and arrow; but the
employment of such weapons seems to belong chiefly to the inhabitants
of the extreme north. There are in my collection specimens of bows and
arrows brought from Cape York, which in their way are really admirable
weapons, and would do credit to the archers of Polynesia. The bow is
more than six feet long, and is made from the male, _i. e._ the solid
bamboo. It is very stiff, and a powerful as well as a practised arm is
needed to bend it properly.
Like the spear shaft, this bow is greatly subject to being worm-eaten.
My own specimen is so honeycombed by these tiny borers that when it
arrived a little heap of yellow powder fell to the ground wherever
the bow was set, and, if it were sharply struck, a cloud of the same
powder came from it. Fortunately, the same looseness of texture which
enabled the beetle to make such havoc served also to conduct the
poisoned spirit which I injected into the holes; and now the ravages
have ceased, and not the most voracious insect in existence can touch
the weapon. The string is very simply made, being nothing but a piece
of rattan split to the required thickness. Perhaps the most ingenious
part of this bow is the manner in which the loop is made. Although
unacquainted with the simple yet effective bowstring knot, which is so
well known to our archers, and which would not suit the stiff and harsh
rattan, the native has invented a knot which is quite as efficacious,
and is managed on the same principle of taking several turns, with the
cord round itself just below the loop. In order to give the rattan the
needful flexibility it has been beaten so as to separate it into fibres
and break up the hard, flinty coating which surrounds it, and these
fibres have then been twisted round and round into a sort of rude cord,
guarded at the end with a wrapping of the same material in order to
preserve it from unravelling.
The arrows are suitable to the bow. They are variable in length, but
all are much longer than those which the English bowmen were accustomed
to use, and, instead of being a “cloth yard” in length, the shortest
measures three feet seven inches in length, while the longest is four
feet eight inches from butt to point. They are without a vestige of
feathering, and have no nock, so that the native archer is obliged to
hold the arrow against the string with his thumb and finger, and cannot
draw the bow with the fore and middle finger, as all good English
archers have done ever since the bow was known.
The shafts of the arrows are made of reed, and they are all healed
with long spikes of some dark and heavy wood, which enable them to fly
properly. Some of the heads are plain, rounded spikes, but others are
elaborately barbed. One, for example, has a single row of six barbs,
each an inch in length, and another has one double barb, like that of
the “broad arrow” of England. Another has, instead of a barb, a smooth
bulb, ending gradually in a spike, and serving no possible purpose,
except perhaps that of ornament. Another has two of these bulbs; and
another, the longest of them all, has a slight bulb, and then an
attempt at carving. The pattern is of the very simplest character, but
it is the only piece of carving on all the weapons. The same arrow is
remarkable for having the point covered for some two inches with a sort
of varnish, looking exactly like red sealing-wax, while a band of the
same material encircles the head about six inches nearer the shaft. The
sailor who brought the weapons over told me that this red varnish was
poison, but I doubt exceedingly whether it is anything but ornament.
The end of the reed into which the head is inserted is guarded by a
wrapping of rattan fibre, covered with a sort of dark varnish, which,
however, is not the black-boy gum that is so plentifully used in the
manufacture of other weapons. In one instance the place of the wrapping
is taken by an inch or so of plaiting, wrought so beautifully with
the outside of the rattan cut into flat strips scarcely wider than
ordinary twine, that it betrays the Polynesian origin of the weapons,
and confirms me in the belief that the bow and arrow are not indigenous
to Australia, but have only been imported from New Guinea, and have
not made their way inland. The natives of Northern Australia have also
evidently borrowed much from Polynesia, as we shall see in the course
of this narrative.
The bow is usually about six feet in length, though one in my
possession is somewhat longer. Owing to the dimensions of the bow and
arrows, a full equipment of them is very weighty, and, together with
the other weapons which an Australian thinks it his duty to carry, must
be no slight burden to the warrior.
Ferocity of countenance is very characteristic of the race, and, as we
shall see when we come to the canoes and their occupants, the people
are very crafty: mild and complaisant when they think themselves
overmatched, insolent and menacing when they fancy themselves superior,
and tolerably sure to commit murder if they think they can do so with
impunity. The only mode of dealing with these people is the safe one to
adopt with all savages: _i. e._ never trust them, and never cheat them.
We now come to that most wonderful of all weapons, the boomerang.
This is essentially the national weapon of Australia, and is found
throughout the West country. As far as is known, it is peculiar to
Australia, and, though curious missiles are found in other parts of the
world, there is none which can be compared with the boomerang.
On one of the old Egyptian monuments there is a figure of a
bird-catcher in a canoe. He is assisted by a cat whom he has taught to
catch prey for him, and, as the birds fly out of the reeds among which
he is pushing his canoe, he is hurling at them a curved missile which
some persons have thought to be the boomerang. I cannot, however, see
that there is the slightest reason for such a supposition.
No weapon in the least like the boomerang is at present found in any
part of Africa, and, so far as I know, there is no example of a really
efficient weapon having entirely disappeared from a whole continent.
The harpoon with which the Egyptians of old killed the hippopotamus
is used at the present day without the least alteration; the net is
used for catching fish in the same manner; the spear and shield of the
Egyptian infantry were identical in shape with those of the Kanemboo
soldier, a portrait of whom may be seen on page 612; the bow and arrow
still survive; and even the whip with which the Egyptian task masters
beat their Jewish servants is the “khoorbash” with which the Nubian of
the present day beats his slave.
In all probability, the curved weapon which the bird-catcher holds
in his hand, and which he is about to throw, is nothing more than a
short club, analogous to the knob-kerry of the Kaffir, and having no
returning power. Varying slightly in some of its details, the boomerang
is identical in principle wherever it is made. It is a flattish
curved piece of wood, various examples of which may be seen in the
illustration on the 731st page; and neither by its shape nor material
does it give the least idea of its wonderful powers.
The material of which the boomerang (or bommereng, as the word is
sometimes rendered) is made is almost invariably that of the gum-tree,
which is heavy, hard, and tough, and is able to sustain a tolerably
severe shock without breaking. It is slightly convex on the upper
surface, and flat below, and is always thickest in the middle, being
scraped away toward the edges, which are moderately sharp, especially
the outer edge. It is used as a missile, and it is one of the strangest
weapons that ever was invented.
In the old fairy tales, with which we are more or less acquainted,
one of the strange gifts which is presented by the fairy to the hero
is often a weapon of some wonderful power. Thus we have the sword of
sharpness, which cut through every thing at which it was aimed, and
the coat of mail, which no weapon would pierce. It is a pity, by the
way, that the sword and the coat never seem to have been tried against
each other. Then there are arrows (in more modern tales modified into
bullets) that always struck their mark, and so on. And in one of the
highest flights of fairy lore we read of arrows that always returned of
their own accord to the archer.
In Australia, however, we have, as an actual fact, a missile that can
be thrown to a considerable distance, and which always returns to the
thrower. By a peculiar mode of hurling it the weapon circles through
the air, and then describes a circular course, falling by the side of
or behind the man who threw it. The mode of throwing is very simple
in theory, and very difficult in practice. The weapon is grasped by
the handle, which is usually marked by a number of cross cuts, so as
to give a firm hold, and the flat side is kept downward. Then, with a
quick and sharp fling, the boomerang is hurled, the hand at the same
time being drawn back, so as to make the weapon revolve with extreme
rapidity. A billiard-player will understand the sort of movement when
told that it is on the same principle as the “screw-back” stroke at
billiards. The weapon must be flung with great force, or it will not
perform its evolutions properly.
If the reader would like to practice throwing the boomerang, let me
recommend him, in the first place, to procure a genuine weapon, and
not an English imitation thereof, such as is generally sold at the
toy-shops. He should then go alone into a large field, where the ground
is tolerably soft and there are no large stones about, and then stand
facing the wind. Having grasped it as described, he should mark with
his eye a spot on the ground at the distance of forty yards or so, and
hurl the boomerang at it. Should he throw it rightly, the weapon will
at first look as if it were going to strike the ground; but, instead
of doing so, it will shoot off at a greater or less angle, according
to circumstances, and will rise high into the air, circling round with
gradually diminishing force, until it falls to the ground. Should
sufficient force have been imparted to it, the boomerang will fall some
eight or ten yards behind the thrower.
It is necessary that the thrower should be alone, or at least have only
an instructor with him, when he practises this art, as the boomerang
will, in inexperienced hands, take all kinds of strange courses, and
will, in all probability, swerve from its line, and strike one of the
spectators; and the force with which a boomerang can strike is almost
incredible. I have seen a dog killed on the spot, its body being nearly
cut in two by the boomerang as it fell; and I once saw a brass spur
struck clean off the heel of an incautious spectator, who ran across
the path of the weapon.
It is necessary that he choose a soft as well as spacious field, as the
boomerang has a special knack of selecting the hardest spots on which
to fall, and if it can find a large stone is sure to strike it, and
so break itself to pieces. And if there are trees in the way, it will
get among the boughs, perhaps smash itself, certainly damage itself,
and probably stick among the branches. The learner should throw also
against the wind, as, if the boomerang is thrown with the wind, it does
not think of coming back again, but sails on as if it never meant to
stop, and is sure to reach a wonderful distance before it falls.
Nearly thirty years ago, I lost a boomerang by this very error. In
company with some of my schoolfellows, I was throwing the weapon for
their amusement, when one of them snatched it up, turned round, and
threw it with all his force in the direction of the wind. The distance
to which the weapon travelled I am afraid to mention, lest it should
not be believed. The ground in that neighborhood is composed of
successive undulations of hill and vale, and we saw the boomerang cross
two of the valleys, and at last disappear into a grove of lime-trees
that edged the churchyard.
In vain we sought for the weapon, and it was not found until four years
afterward, when a plumber, who had been sent to repair the roof of the
church, found it sticking in the leads. So it had first traversed that
extraordinary distance, had then cut clean through the foliage of a
lime-tree, and lastly had sufficient force to stick into the leaden
roofing of a church. The boomerang was brought down half decayed, and
wrenched out of its proper form by the shock.
Should the reader wish to learn the use of the weapon, he should watch
a native throw it. The attitude of the man as he hurls the boomerang
is singularly graceful. Holding three or four of the weapons in his
left hand, he draws out one at random with his right, while his eyes
are fixed on the object which he desires to hit, or the spot to which
the weapon has to travel. Balancing the boomerang for a moment in his
hand, he suddenly steps a pace or two forward, and with a quick, sharp,
almost angry stroke, launches his weapon into the air.
Should he desire to bring the boomerang back again, he has two modes of
throwing. In the one mode, he flings it high in the air, into which it
mounts to a wonderful height, circling the while with a bold, vigorous
sweep, that reminds the observer of the grand flight of the eagle
or the buzzard. It flies on until it has reached a spot behind the
thrower, when all life seems suddenly to die out of it; it collapses,
so to speak, like a bird shot on the wing, topples over and over, and
falls to the ground.
There is another mode of throwing the returning boomerang which is even
more remarkable. The thrower, instead of aiming high in the air, marks
out a spot on the ground some thirty or forty yards in advance, and
hurls the boomerang at it. The weapon strikes the ground, and, instead
of being smashed to pieces, as might be thought from the violence of
the stroke, it springs from the ground Antæus-like, seeming to attain
new vigor by its contact with the earth. It flies up as if it had been
shot from the ground by a catapult; and, taking a comparatively low
elevation, performs the most curious evolutions, whirling so rapidly
that it looks like a semi-transparent disc with an opaque centre,
and directing its course in an erratic manner that is very alarming
to those who are unaccustomed to it. I have seen it execute all its
manœuvres within seven or eight feet from the ground, hissing as it
passed through the air with a strangely menacing sound, and, when
it finally came to the ground, leaping along as if it were a living
creature.
We will now examine the various shapes of boomerangs, as seen in the
illustration on the 731st page. Some of the specimens are taken from
the British Museum, some from the collection of Colonel Lane Fox,
some from my own, and the rest are drawn by Mr. Angas from specimens
obtained in the country. I have had them brought together, so that the
reader may see how the boomerang has been gradually modified out of the
club.
At fig. 4 is the short pointed stick which may either answer the
purpose of a miniature club, a dagger, or an instrument to be used in
the ascent of trees. Just below it is a club or waddy, with a rounded
head, and at fig. 6 the head has been developed into a point, and
rather flattened. If the reader will refer to figs. 6 and 7, he will
see two clubs which are remarkable for having not only the knob, but
the whole of the handle flattened, and the curve of the head extended
to the handle.
The transition from this club to the boomerang is simple enough, and,
indeed, we have an example (fig. 1) of a weapon which looks like an
ordinary boomerang, but is in fact a club, and is used for hand-to-hand
combat.
These figures show pretty clearly the progressive structure of the
boomerang. The flattened clubs were probably made from necessity, the
native not being able to find a suitable piece of wood, and taking
the best that he could get. If, then, one of these clubs were, on the
spur of the moment, hurled at an object, the superior value which this
flatness conferred upon it as a missile would be evident as well as the
curved course which it would take through the air. The native, ever
quick to note anything which might increase the power of his weapons,
would be sure to notice this latter peculiarity, and to perceive the
valuable uses to which it could be turned. He would therefore try
various forms of flattened missiles, until he at last reached the true
boomerang.
The strangest point about the boomerang is, that the curve is not
uniform, and, in fact, scarcely any two specimens have precisely the
same curve. Some have the curve so sharp that it almost deserves the
name of angle, for an example of which see fig. 8; others, as in fig.
9, have the curve very slight; while others, as in fig. 2, have a
tendency to a double curve, and there is a specimen in the British
Museum in which the double curve is very boldly marked. The best and
typical form of boomerang is, however, that which is shown at fig. 3.
The specimen which is there represented was made on the banks of the
river Darling.
The natives can do almost anything with the boomerang, and the
circuitous course which it adopts is rendered its most useful
characteristic. Many a hunter has wished that he only possessed that
invaluable weapon, a gun which would shoot round a corner, and just
such a weapon does the Australian find in his boomerang. If, for
example, he should see a kangaroo in such a position that he cannot
come within the range of a spear without showing himself and alarming
the animal, or say, for example, that it is sheltered from a direct
attack by the trunk of a tree, he will steal as near as he can without
disturbing the animal, and then will throw his boomerang in such a
manner that it circles round the tree, and strikes the animal at which
it is aimed.
That such precision should be obtained with so curious a weapon seems
rather remarkable, but those of my readers who are accustomed to play
at bowls will call to mind the enormous power which is given to them
by the “bias,” or weighted side of the bowl, and the bold curves which
they can force the missile to execute, when they wish to send the bowl
round a number of obstacles which are in its way. The boomerang is used
as a sort of aërial bowl, with the advantage that the expert thrower is
able to alter the bias at will, and to make the weapon describe almost
any curve that he chooses.
It is even said that, in case there should be obstacles which prevent
the boomerang from passing round the tree, the native has the power of
throwing it so that it strikes the ground in front of the tree, and
then, by the force of the throw, leaps over the top of the branches,
and descends upon the object at which it is thrown.
On page 739 is shown a scene on the river Murray, in which the
natives are drawn as they appear when catching the shag, a species of
cormorant, which is found there in great numbers. They capture these
birds in various ways, sometimes by climbing at night the trees on
which they roost, and seizing them, getting severely bitten, by the
way, on their naked limbs and bodies. They have also a very ingenious
mode of planting sticks in the bed of the river, so that they project
above the surface, and form convenient resting-places for the birds.
Fatigued with diving, the cormorants are sure to perch upon them; and
as they are dozing while digesting their meal of fish, the native swims
gently up, and suddenly catches them by the wings, and drags them under
water. He always breaks the neck of the bird at once.
They are so wonderfully skilful in the water, that when pelicans are
swimming unsuspectingly on the surface, the natives approach silently,
dive under them, seize the birds by the legs, jerk them under water,
and break both the wings and legs so rapidly that the unfortunate birds
have no chance of escape.
Sometimes, as shown in the illustration, the natives use their
boomerangs and clubs, knock the birds off the branches on which they
are roosting, and secure them before they have recovered from the
stunning blow of the weapon. When approaching cormorants and other
aquatic birds, the native has a very ingenious plan of disguising
himself. He gathers a bunch of weeds, ties it on his head, and slips
quietly into the water, keeping his whole body immersed, and only
allowing the artificial covering to be seen. The bird being quite
accustomed to see patches of weeds floating along the water, takes no
notice of so familiar an object, and so allows the disguised man to
come within easy reach.
To return to the boomerang. The reader may readily have imagined that
the manufacture of so remarkable an implement is not a very easy one.
The various points which constitute the excellence of a boomerang
are so light that there is scarcely an European who can see them,
especially as the shape, size, and weight of the weapon differ so
much according to the locality in which it was made. The native, when
employed in making a boomerang, often spends many days over it, not
only on account of the very imperfect tools which he possesses, but by
reason of the minute care which is required in the manufacture of a
good weapon.
Day after day he may be seen with the boomerang in his hand, chipping
at it slowly and circumspectly, and becoming more and more careful as
it approaches completion. When he has settled the curve, and nearly
flattened it to its proper thickness, he scarcely makes three or four
strokes without balancing the weapon in his hand, looking carefully
along the edges, and making movements as if he were about to throw it.
The last few chips seem to exercise a wonderful effect on the powers of
the weapon, and about them the native is exceedingly fastidious.
Yet, with all this care, the weapon is a very rough one, and the marks
of the flint axe are left without even an attempt to smooth them. In
a well-used boomerang the projecting edges of the grooves made by
various cuts and chips become quite polished by friction, while the
sunken portion is left rough. In one fine specimen in my possession the
manufacturer has taken a curious advantage of these grooves. Besides
marking the handle end by covering it with cross-scorings as has
already been described, he has filled the grooves with the red ochre of
which the Australian is so fond, and for some eight inches the remains
of the red paint are visible in almost every groove.
So delicate is the operation of boomerang making, that some men,
natives though they be, cannot turn out a really good weapon, while
others are celebrated for their skill, and can dispose of their weapons
as fast as they make them. One of the native “kings” was a well-known
boomerang maker, and his weapons were widely distributed among the
natives, who knew his handiwork as an artist knows the touch of a
celebrated painter. To this skill, and the comparative wealth which its
exercise brought him, the king in question owed the principal part of
his authority.
[Illustration: (1.) SPEARING THE KANGAROO. (See page 734.)]
[Illustration: (2.) CATCHING THE CORMORANT. (See page 738.)]
A fair idea of the size and weight of the boomerang may be gained by
the measurements of the weapon which has just been mentioned. It is
two feet nine inches long when measured with the curve, and two feet
six inches from tip to tip. It is exactly two inches in width, only
narrowing at the tips, and its weight is exactly eleven ounces. This,
by the way, is a war boomerang, and is shaped like that which is shown
in “Boomerangs” on page 731, fig. 3. Another specimen, which is of
about the same weight, is shaped like that of fig. 8. It measures two
feet five inches along the curve, two feet one inch from tip to tip,
and is three inches in width in the middle, diminishing gradually
toward the tips.
* * * * *
In order to enable them to ward off these various missiles, the
natives are armed with a shield, which varies exceedingly in shape and
dimensions, and, indeed, in some places is so unlike a shield, and
apparently so inadequate to the office of protecting the body, that
when strangers come to visit my collection I often have much difficulty
in persuading them that such strange-looking objects can by any
possibility be shields. As there is so great a variety in the shields,
I have collected together a number of examples, which, I believe,
comprise every form of shield used throughout Australia. Two of them
are from specimens in my own collection, several from that of Colonel
Lane Fox, others are drawn from examples in the British Museum, and the
rest were sketched by Mr. Angas in the course of his travels through
Australia.
As a general fact, the shield is very solid and heavy, and in some
cases looks much more like a club with which a man can be knocked down,
than a shield whereby he can be saved from a blow, several of them
having sharp edges as if for the purpose of inflicting injury.
If the reader will look at the row of shields on page 742, he will
see that figs. 2 and 3 exhibit two views of the same shield. This is
one of the commonest forms of the weapon, and is found throughout a
considerable portion of Western Australia. It is cut out of a solid
piece of the ever useful gum-tree, and is in consequence very hard and
very heavy. As may be seen by reference to the illustration, the form
of the shield is somewhat triangular, the face which forms the front
of the weapon being slightly rounded, and the handle being formed
by cutting through the edge on which the other two faces converge.
The handle is very small, and could scarcely be used by an ordinary
European, though it is amply wide enough for the small and delicate
looking hand of the Australian native. My own is a small hand, but is
yet too large to hold the Australian shield comfortably.
The reader will see that by this mode of forming the handle the wrist
has great play, and can turn the shield from side to side with the
slightest movement of the hand. This faculty is very useful, especially
when the instrument is used for warding off the spear or the club,
weapons which need only to be just turned aside in order to guide them
away from the body.
One of these shields in my own collection is a very fine example of the
instrument, and its dimensions will serve to guide the reader as to
the usual form, size, and weight of an Australian shield. It measures
exactly two feet seven inches in length, and is five inches wide at
the middle, which is the broadest part. The width of the hole which
receives the hand is three inches and three-eighths, and the weight of
the shield is rather more than three pounds.
The extraordinary weight of the shield is needed in order to enable
it to resist the shock of the boomerang, the force of which may be
estimated by its weight, eleven ounces, multiplied by the force with
which it is hurled. This terrible weapon cannot be merely turned aside,
like the spear or the waddy, and often seems to receive an additional
impulse from striking any object, as the reader may see by reference to
page 737, in which the mode of throwing the boomerang is described. A
boomerang must be stopped, and not merely parried, and moreover, if it
be not stopped properly, it twists round the shield, and with one of
its revolving ends inflicts a wound on the careless warrior.
Even if it be met with the shield and stopped, it is apt to break,
and the two halves to converge upon the body. The very fragments
of the boomerang seem able to inflict almost as much injury as the
entire weapon; and, in one of the skirmishes to which the natives are
so addicted, a man was seen to fall to the ground with his body cut
completely open by a broken boomerang.
It is in warding off the boomerang, therefore, that the chief skill of
the Australian is shown. When he sees the weapon is pursuing a course
which will bring it to him, he steps forward so as to meet it; and,
as the boomerang clashes against the shield, he gives the latter a
rapid turn with the wrist. If this manœuvre be properly executed, the
boomerang breaks to pieces, and the fragments are struck apart by the
movement of the shield.
Perhaps some of my readers may remember that “Dick-a-dick,” the very
popular member of the Australian cricketers who came to England in
1868, among other exhibitions of his quickness of eye and hand, allowed
himself to be pelted with cricket balls, at a distance of fifteen
yards, having nothing wherewith to protect himself but the shield and
the leowal, or angular club, the former being used to shield the body,
and the latter to guard the legs. The force and accuracy with which a
practised cricketer can throw the ball are familiar to all Englishmen,
and it was really wonderful to see a man, with no clothes but a
skin-tight elastic dress, with a piece of wood five inches wide in his
left hand, and a club in his right, quietly stand against a positive
rain of cricket-balls as long as any one liked to throw at him, and
come out of the ordeal unscathed.
Not the least surprising part of the performance was the coolness with
which he treated the whole affair, and the almost instinctive knowledge
that he seemed to possess respecting the precise destination of each
ball. If a ball went straight at his body or head, it was met and
blocked by the shield; if it were hurled at his legs, the club knocked
it aside. As to those which were sure not to hit him, he treated them
with contemptuous indifference, just moving his head a little on one
side to allow the ball to pass, which absolutely ruffled his hair as it
shot by, or lifting one arm to allow a ball to pass between the limb
and his body, or, if it were aimed but an inch wide of him, taking no
notice of it whatever. The shield which he used with such skill was
the same kind as that which has just been described, and was probably
selected because its weight enabled it to block the balls without the
hand that held it feeling the shock.
To all appearances, the natives expend much more labor upon the shield
than upon the boomerang, the real reason, however, being that much
ornament would injure the boomerang, but can have no injurious effect
upon the shield. By reference to the illustration, the reader will see
that the face of the shield is covered with ornament, which, simple in
principle, is elaborate in detail.
There is a specimen in my collection which is ornamented to a very
great extent on its face, the sides and the handle being perfectly
plain. It has a number of lines drawn transversely in bands, which,
however, are seven instead of five in number. Each band is composed of
three zigzag grooves, and each groove has been filled with red ochre.
The space between is filled in with a double zigzag pattern, and the
effect of all these lines, simple as they are, is perfectly artistic
and consistent.
[Illustration: SHIELDS.]
The pattern, by the way, is one that seems common to all savage races
of men, wherever they may be found, and is to be seen on weapons made
by the ancient races now long passed away, among the Kaffir tribes
of South Africa, the cannibal tribes of Central Western Africa, the
inhabitants of the various Polynesian islands, the savages of the
extreme north and extreme south of America, and the natives of the
great continent of Australia.
At fig. 7 of the accompanying illustration may be seen a shield made of
solid wood, in which the triangular form has been developed in a very
curious manner into a quadrangular shape. The handle is made in the
same manner as that of the former shield, _i. e._ by cutting through
two of the faces of the triangle, while the front of the shield,
instead of being a tolerably round face, is flattened out into a sharp
edge. It is scarcely possible to imagine any instrument that looks
less like a shield than does this curious weapon, which seems to have
been made for the express purpose of presenting as small a surface as
possible to the enemy.
The fact is, however, that the Southern Australian who uses these
shields has not to defend himself against arrows, from which a man can
only be defended by concealing his body behind shelter which is proof
against them: he has only to guard against the spear and boomerang, and
occasionally the missile club, all which weapons he can turn aside
with the narrow shield that has been described.
One of these shields in my collection is two feet seven inches in
length, rather more than six inches in width, and barely three inches
thick in the middle. Its weight is just two pounds. Such a weapon seems
much more like a club than a shield, and, indeed, if held by one end,
its sharp edge might be used with great effect upon the head of an
enemy. Like most Australian shields, it is covered with a pattern of
the same character as that which has already been mentioned, and it has
been so thoroughly painted with ochre that it is of a reddish mahogany
color, and the real hue of the wood can only be seen by scraping off
some of the stained surface. The name for this kind of shield is
tamarang, and it is much used in dances, in which it is struck at
regular intervals with the waddy.
In the British Museum is a shield which is much more solid than either
of those which have been described. The manufacturer evidently found
the labor of chipping the wood too much for him, and accordingly
made much use of fire, forming his shield by alternate charring and
scraping. The handle is rather curiously made by cutting two deep holes
side by side in the back of the shield, the piece of wood between them
being rounded into a handle. As is the case with most of the shields,
the handle is a very small one. The face of the shield is much wider
than either of those which have been noticed, and is very slightly
rounded. It is ornamented with carved grooves, but rough usage has
obliterated most of them, and the whole implement is as rough and
unsightly an article as can well be imagined, in spite of the labor
which has been bestowed upon it.
We now come to another class of shield, made of bark, and going by
the title of Mulabakka. Shields in general are called by the name of
Hieleman. Some of these bark shields are of considerable size, and
are so wide in the middle that, when the owner crouches behind them,
they protect the greater part of his body. As the comparatively thin
material of which they are composed prevents the handle from being made
by cutting into the shield itself, the native is obliged to make the
handle separately, and fasten it to the shield by various methods.
The commonest mode of fixing the handle to a Mulabakka shield is seen
at figs. 4 and 5, on page 742, which exhibit the front and profile
views of the same shield. Another Mulabakka is shown at fig. 6.
The faces of all the Mulabakka shields are covered with ornamented
patterns, mostly on the usual zigzag principle, but some having a
pattern in which curves form the chief element.
CHAPTER LXXIII.
AUSTRALIA--_Continued_.
REAL WAR UNKNOWN TO THE AUSTRALIANS -- FEUDS AND THE CAUSES OF THEM
-- A SAVAGE TOURNAMENT -- VENGEANCE FOR DEATH -- THE TROPHY OF
VICTORY -- AUSTRALIAN VENDETTA -- FIRE-SIGNALS -- DEATH OF TARMEENIA
-- ORDEAL OF BATTLE -- CANNIBALISM AS AN ADJUNCT OF WAR -- DANCES OF
THE ABORIGINES -- THE KURI DANCE AND ITS STRANGE ACCOMPANIMENTS --
THE PALTI DANCE -- THE CONCLUDING FIGURE -- DANCE OF THE PARNKALLA
TRIBE -- ORDINARY CORROBBOREES -- THE KANGAROO DANCE -- TASMANIAN
DANCE.
The mention of these various weapons naturally leads us to warfare; and
that they are intended for that purpose the existence of the shields is
a proof. Offensive weapons, such as the spear and the club, may be used
merely for killing game; but the shield can only be employed to defend
the body from the weapons of an enemy.
War, however, as we understand the word, is unknown among the
Australians. They have not the intellect nor the organization for it,
and so we have the curious fact of skilled warriors who never saw a
battle. No single tribe is large enough to take one side in a real
battle; and, even supposing it to possess sufficient numbers, there is
no spirit of discipline by means of which a force could be gathered,
kept together, or directed, even if it were assembled.
Yet, though real war is unknown, the Australian natives are continually
fighting, and almost every tribe is at feud with its neighbor. The
cause of quarrel with them is almost invariably the possession of some
territory. By a sort of tacit arrangement, the various tribes have
settled themselves in certain districts; and, although they are great
wanderers, yet they consider themselves the rightful owners of their
own district.
It mostly happens, however, that members of one tribe trespass on the
district of another, especially if it be one in which game of any kind
is plentiful. And sometimes, when a tribe has gone off on a travelling
expedition, another tribe will settle themselves in the vacated
district; so that, when the rightful owners of the soil return, there
is sure to be a quarrel. The matter is usually settled by a skirmish,
which bears some resemblance to the _mêlée_ of ancient chivalry, and is
conducted according to well-understood regulations.
The aggrieved tribe sends a challenge to the offenders, the challenger
in question bearing a bunch of emu’s feathers tied on the top of
a spear. At daybreak next morning the warriors array themselves
for battle, painting their bodies in various colors, so as to make
themselves look as much like demons, and as much unlike men as
possible, laying aside all clothing, and arranging their various
weapons for the fight.
Having placed themselves in battle array, at some little distance from
each other, the opposite sides begin to revile each other in quite a
Homeric manner, taunting their antagonists with cowardice and want of
skill in their weapons, and boasting of the great deeds which they are
about to do. When, by means of interposing these taunts with shouts
and yells, dancing from one foot to the other, quivering and poising
their spears, and other mechanical modes of exciting themselves, they
have worked themselves up to the requisite pitch of fury, they begin
to throw the spears, and the combat becomes general. Confused as it
appears, it is, however, arranged with a sort of order. Each warrior
selects his antagonist; so that the fight is, in fact, a series of
duels rather than a battle, and the whole business bears a curious
resemblance to the mode of fighting in the ancient days of Troy.
Generally the combatants stand in rather scattered lines, or, as we
should say, in wide skirmishing order. The gestures with which they try
to irritate their opponents are very curious, and often grotesque; the
chief object being apparently to induce the antagonist to throw the
first spear. Sometimes they stand with their feet very widely apart,
and their knees straight, after the manner which will be seen in the
illustrations of the native dances. While so standing, they communicate
a peculiar quivering movement to the legs, and pretend to offer
themselves as fair marks. Sometimes they turn their backs on their
adversary, and challenge him to throw at them; or they drop on a hand
and knee for the same purpose.
Mr. M’Gillivray remarked that two spearmen never throw at the same
combatant: but, even with this advantage, the skill of the warrior is
amply tested, and it is surprising to see how, by the mere inflection
of the body, or the lifting a leg or arm, they avoid a spear which
otherwise; must have wounded them. While the fight is going on, the
women and children remain in the bush, watching the combat, and
uttering a sort of wailing chant, rising and falling in regular cadence.
Sometimes the fight is a very bloody one, though the general rule is,
that when one man is killed the battle ceases, the tribe to which the
dead man belonged being considered as having been worsted. It might be
thought that a battle conducted on such principles would be of very
short duration; but the Australian warriors are so skilful in warding
off the weapons of their antagonists that they often fight for a
considerable time before a man is killed. It must be remembered, too,
that the Australian natives can endure, without seeming to be much the
worse for them, wounds which would kill an European at once. In such
a skirmish, however, much blood is spilt, even though only one man
be actually killed, for the barbed spears and sharp-edged boomerangs
inflict terrible wounds, and often cripple the wounded man for life.
Other causes beside the quarrel for territory may originate a feud
between two tribes. One of these cases is a very curious one. A woman
had been bitten by a snake; but, as no blood flowed from the wound,
it was thought that the snake was not a venomous one, and that there
was no danger. However, the woman died in a few hours, and her death
was the signal for a desperate war between two tribes. There seems to
be but little connection between the two events, but according to
Australian ideas the feud was a justifiable one.
The natives of the part of Australia where this event occurred have
a curious idea concerning death. Should any one die without apparent
cause, they think that the death is caused by a great bird called
marralya, which comes secretly to the sick person, seizes him round
the waist in his claws, and squeezes him to death. Now the marralya is
not a real bird, but a magical one, being always a man belonging to
a hostile tribe, who assumes the shape of the bird, and so finds an
opportunity of doing an injury to the tribe with which he is at feud.
Having made up his mind that the snake which bit the woman was not a
venomous one, her husband could not of course be expected to change
his opinion, and so it was agreed upon that one of a neighboring tribe
with whom they were at feud must have become a marralya, and killed
the woman. The usual challenge was the consequence, and from it came a
series of bloody fights.
Like most savage nations, the Australians mutilate their fallen
enemies. Instead, however, of cutting off the scalp, or other trophy,
they open the body, tear out the fat about the kidneys, and rub it
over their own bodies. So general is this custom, that to “take fat”
is a common paraphrase for killing an enemy; and when two antagonists
are opposed to each other, each is sure to boast that his antagonist
shall furnish fat for him. As far as can be learned, they have an idea
that this practice endues the victor with the courage of the slain man
in addition to his own; and, as a reputation for being a warrior of
prowess is the only distinction that a native Australian can achieve,
it may be imagined that he is exceedingly anxious to secure such an aid
to ambition.
Not from deliberate cruelty, but from the utter thoughtlessness and
disregard of inflicting pain which characterizes all savages, the
victorious warrior does not trouble himself to wait for the death
of his enemy before taking his strange war trophy. Should the man
be entirely disabled it is enough for the Australian, who turns him
on his back, opens his body with the quartz knife which has already
been described, tears out the coveted prize, and rubs himself with
it until his whole body and limbs shine as if they were burnished.
Oftentimes it has happened that a wounded man has been thus treated,
and has been doomed to see his conqueror adorn himself before his eyes.
Putting aside any previous injury, such a wound as this is necessarily
mortal; but a man has been known to live for more than three days
after receiving the injury, so wonderfully strong is the Australian
constitution.
Sometimes these feuds spread very widely, and last for a very long
time. Before the declaration of war, the opposing tribes refrain
from attacking each other, but, after that declaration is once
made, the greatest secrecy is often observed, and the warrior is
valued the highest who contrives to kill his enemy without exposing
himself to danger. Sometimes there is a sort of wild chivalry about
the Australians, mingled with much that is savage and revolting. A
remarkable instance of these traits is recorded by Mr. M’Gillivray.
An old man had gone on a short expedition in his canoe, while the
men of his tribe were engaged in catching turtle. He was watched by
a party belonging to a hostile tribe, who followed and speared him.
Leaving their spears in the body to indicate their identity, they
returned to shore, and made a great fire by way of a challenge. Seeing
the signal, and knowing that a column of thick smoke is almost always
meant as a challenge, the men left their turtling, and, on finding
that the old man was missing, instituted a search after him. As soon
as they discovered the body they lighted another fire to signify their
acceptance of the challenge, and a party of them started off the same
evening in order to inflict reprisals on the enemy.
They soon came upon some natives who belonged to the inimical tribe,
but who had not been concerned in the murder, and managed to kill the
whole party, consisting of four men, a woman, and a girl. They cut
off the heads of their victims, and returned with great exultation,
shouting and blowing conch-shells to announce their victory.
The heads were then cooked in an oven, and the eyes scooped out and
eaten, together with portions of the cheeks. Only those who had been
of the war-party were allowed to partake of this horrible feast. When
it was over the victors began a dance, in which they worked themselves
into a perfect frenzy, kicking the skulls over the ground, and
indulging in all kinds of hideous antics. Afterward the skulls were
hung up on two cross sticks near the camp, and allowed to remain there
undisturbed.
Fire, by the way, is very largely used in making signals, which are
understood all over the continent. A large fire, sending up a great
column of smoke, is, as has already been mentioned, almost invariably
a sign of defiance, and it is sometimes kindled daily until it is
answered by another. If a man wishes to denote that he is in want of
assistance, he lights a small fire, and, as soon as it sends up its
little column of smoke, he extinguishes it suddenly by throwing earth
on it. This is repeated until the required assistance arrives.
Some years ago, when the character and habits of the natives were not
known so well as they are now, many of the settlers were murdered by
the natives, simply through their system of fire-signalling. One or two
natives, generally old men or women, as causing least suspicion, and
being entirely unarmed, would approach the farm or camp, and hang about
it for some days, asking for food, and cooking it at their own little
fires.
The white men had no idea that every fire that was lighted was a signal
that was perfectly well understood by a force of armed men that was
hovering about them under cover of the woods, nor that the little puffs
of smoke which occasionally arose in the distance were answers to the
signals made by their treacherous guests. When the spies thought that
their hosts were lulled into security, they made the battle-signal, and
brought down the whole force upon the unsuspecting whites.
The Australians are wonderfully clever actors. How well they can act
honesty and practise theft has already been mentioned. They have
also a way of appearing to be unarmed, and yet having weapons ready
to hand. They will come out of the bush, with green boughs in their
hands as signs of peace, advance for some distance, and ostentatiously
throw down their spears and other weapons. They then advance again,
apparently unarmed, but each man trailing a spear along the ground by
means of his toes. As soon as they are within spear range, they pick up
their weapons with their toes, which are nearly as flexible and useful
as fingers, hurl them, and then retreat to the spot where they had
grounded their weapons.
The Australians have a tenacious memory for injuries, and never lose a
chance of reprisal. In 1849, some men belonging to the Badulega tribe
had been spending two months on a friendly visit to the natives of
Múralug. One of their hosts had married an Itálega woman, and two of
the brothers were staying with her. The Badulegas happened to remember
that several years before one of their own tribe had been insulted by
an Itálega. So they killed the woman, and tried to kill her brothers
also, but only succeeded in murdering one of them. They started at once
for their home, taking the heads as proof of their victory, and thought
that they had done a great and praiseworthy action.
A similar affair took place among some of the tribes of Port Essington.
A Monobar native had been captured when thieving, and was imprisoned.
He attempted to escape, and in so doing was shot by the sentinel on
duty. By rights his family ought to have executed reprisals on a
white man; but they did not venture on such a step, and accordingly
picked out a native who was on good terms with the white man, and
killed _him_. The friends of the murdered man immediately answered by
killing a Monobar, and so the feud went on. In each case the victim
was murdered while sleeping, a number of natives quietly surrounding
him, and, after spearing him, beating him with their waddies into a
shapeless mass.
Should the cause of the feud be the unexplained death of a man or
woman, the duty of vengeance belongs to the most formidable male
warrior of the family. On such occasions he will solemnly accept the
office, adorn himself with the red war-paint, select his best weapons,
and promise publicly not to return until he has killed a male of the
inimical tribe. How pertinaciously the Australian will adhere to his
bloody purpose may be seen from an anecdote related by Mr. Lloyd.
He was startled one night by the furious barking of his dogs. On taking
a lantern he found lying on the ground an old black named Tarmeenia,
covered with wounds inflicted by spears, and boomerangs, and waddies.
He told his story in the strange broken English used by the natives.
The gist of the story was, that he and his son were living in a hut,
and the son had gone out to snare a bird for his father, who was ill.
Presently a “bungilcarney coolie,” _i. e._ an enemy from another tribe,
entered the hut and demanded, “Why did your son kill my wife? I shall
kill his father.” Whereupon he drove his spear into the old man’s side,
and was beating him to death, when he was disturbed by the return of
his son. The young man, a singularly powerful native, knowing that his
father would be certainly murdered outright if he remained in the hut,
actually carried him more than four miles to Mr. Lloyd’s house, put him
down in the yard, and left him.
A hut was at once erected close to the house, and Tarmeenia was
installed and attended to. He was very grateful, but was uneasy in his
mind, begging that the constable might visit his hut in his nightly
rounds, “’cos same bungilcarney coolie cum agin, and dis time too much
kill ’im Tarmeenia.” The alarm of the old man seemed rather absurd,
considering the position of the hut, but it was fully justified. About
three weeks after Tarmeenia had been placed in the hut, Mr. Lloyd was
aroused at daybreak by a servant, who said that the old black fellow
had been burned to death. Dead he certainly was, and on examining the
body two fresh wounds were seen, one by a spear just over the heart,
and the other a deep cut in the loins, through which the “bungilcarney”
had torn the trophy of war.
Occasionally a man who has offended against some native law has to
engage in a kind of a mimic warfare, but without the advantage of
having weapons. Mr. Lloyd mentions a curious example of such an ordeal.
“The only instance I ever witnessed of corporeal punishment being
inflicted--evidently, too, by some legal process--was upon the person
of a fine sleek young black, who, having finished his morning’s
repast, rose in a dignified manner, and, casting his rug from his
shoulders, strode with Mohican stoicism to the appointed spot, divested
of his shield, waddy, or other means of defence. Nor, when once
placed, did he utter one word, or move a muscle of his graceful and
well-moulded person, but with folded arms and defiant attitude awaited
the fatal ordeal.
“A few minutes only elapsed when two equally agile savages, each armed
with two spears and a boomerang, marched with stately gait to within
sixty yards of the culprit. One weapon after another was hurled at the
victim savage, with apparently fatal precision, but his quick eye and
wonderful activity set them all at defiance, with the exception of
the very last cast of a boomerang, which, taking an unusual course,
severed a piece of flesh from the shoulder-blade, equal in size to a
crown-piece, as if sliced with a razor, and thus finished the affair.”
The _lex talionis_ forms part of the Australian traditional law, and is
sometimes exercised after a rather ludicrous fashion. A young man had
committed some light offence, and was severely beaten by two natives,
who broke his arm with a club, and laid his head open with a fishing
spear. Considerable confusion took place, and at last the elders
decided that the punishment was much in excess of the offence, and
that, when the wounded man recovered, the two assailants were to offer
their heads to him, so that he might strike them a certain number of
blows with his waddy.
In the description of the intertribal feuds, it has been mentioned that
the men who assisted in killing the victims of reprisal partook of the
eyes and cheeks of the murdered person. This leads us to examine the
question of cannibalism, inasmuch as some travellers have asserted that
the Australians are cannibals and others denying such a propensity as
strongly.
That the flesh of human beings is eaten by the Australians is an
undeniable fact: but it must be remarked that such an act is often
intended as a ceremonial, and not merely as a means of allaying hunger
or gratifying the palate. It has been ascertained that some tribes who
live along the Murray River have been known to kill and eat children,
mixing their flesh with that of the dog. This, however, only occurs
in seasons of great scarcity; and that the event was exceptional
and not customary, is evident from the fact that a man was pointed
out as having killed his children for food. Now it is plain, that,
if cannibalism was the custom, such a man would not be sufficiently
conspicuous to be specially mentioned. These tribes have a horrible
custom of killing little boys for the sake of their fat, with which
they bait fish-hooks.
Another example of cannibalism is described by Mr. Angas as occurring
in New South Wales. A lad had died, and his body was taken by several
young men, who proceeded to the following remarkable ceremonies. They
began by removing the skin, together with the head, rolling it round
a stake, and drying it over the fire. While this was being done, the
parents, who had been uttering loud lamentations, took the flesh from
the legs, cooked, and ate it. The remainder of the body was distributed
among the friends of the deceased, who carried away their portions on
the points of their spears; and the skin and bones were kept by the
parents, and always carried about in their wallets.
* * * * *
It may seem strange that the mention of the weapons and mode of
fighting should lead us naturally to the dances of the Australians.
Such, however, is the case; for in most of their dances weapons of some
sort are introduced. The first which will be mentioned is the Kuri
dance, which was described to Mr. Angas by a friend who had frequently
seen it, and is illustrated on the next page. This dance is performed
by the natives of the Adelaide district. It seems to have one point
in common with the cotillon of Europe, namely, that it can be varied,
shortened, or lengthened, according to the caprice of the players; so
that if a spectator see the Kuri dance performed six or seven times, he
will never see the movements repeated in the same order. The following
extract describes a single Kuri dance, and from it the reader may form
his impressions of its general character:--
“But first the _dramatis personæ_ must be introduced, and particularly
described. The performers were divided into five distinct classes,
the greater body comprising about twenty-five young men, including
five or six boys, painted and decorated as follows: in nudity, except
the _yoodna_ which is made expressly for the occasion, with bunches
of gum-leaves tied round the legs just above the knee, which, as they
stamped about, made a loud switching noise. In their hands they held a
_katta_ or _wirri_, and some a few gum-leaves. The former were held at
arm’s length, and struck alternately with their legs as they stamped.
They were painted, from each shoulder down to the hips, with five or
six white stripes, rising from the breast; their faces also, with white
perpendicular lines, making the most hideous appearance. These were the
dancers.
“Next came two groups of women, about five or six in number, standing
on the right and left of the dancers, merely taking the part of
supernumeraries; they were not painted, but had leaves in their hands,
which they shook, and kept beating time with their feet during the
whole performance, but never moved from the spot where they stood.
“Next followed two remarkable characters, painted and decorated like
the dancers, but with the addition of the _palyertatta_--a singular
ornament made of two pieces of stick put crosswise, and bound together
by the _mangna_, in a spreading manner, having at the extremities
feathers opened, so as to set it off to the best advantage. One had
the _palyertatta_ stick sideways upon his head, while the other, in
the most wizard-like manner, kept waving it to and fro before him,
corresponding with the action of his head and legs.
“Then followed a performer distinguished by a long spear, from the top
of which a bunch of feathers hung suspended, and all down the spear the
mangna was wound; he held the _koonteroo_ (spear and feathers) with
both hands behind his back, but occasionally altered the position, and
waved it to the right and left over the dancers. And last came the
singers--two elderly men in their usual habiliments; their musical
instruments were the _katta_ and _wirri_, on which they managed to beat
a double note; their song was one unvaried, gabbling tone.
“The night was mild; the new moon shone with a faint light, casting a
depth of shade over the earth, which gave a sombre appearance to the
surrounding scene that highly conduced to enhance the effect of the
approaching play. In the distance, a black mass could be discerned
under the gum-trees, whence occasionally a shout and a burst of flame
arose. These were the performers dressing for the dance, and no one
approached them while thus occupied.
“Two men, closely wrapped in their opossum-skins, noiselessly
approached one of the _wurlies_, where the Kuri was to be performed,
and commenced clearing a space for the singers; this done, they went
back to the singers, but soon after returned, sat down, and began a
peculiar harsh and monotonous tune, keeping time with a _katta_ and a
_wirri_ by rattling them together. All the natives of the different
_wurlies_ flocked round the singers, and sat down in the form of a
horse-shoe, two or three rows deep.
“By this time the dancers had moved in a compact body to within a
short distance of the spectators; after standing for a few minutes
in perfect silence, they answered the singers by a singular deep
shout simultaneously: twice this was done, and then the man with the
_koonteroo_ stepped out, his body leaning forward, and commenced with a
regular stamp; the two men with the _palyertattas_ followed, stamping
with great regularity, the rest joining in: the regular and alternate
stamp, the waving of the _palyertatta_ to and fro, with the loud
switching noise of the gum leaves, formed a scene highly characteristic
of the Australian natives. In this style they approached the singers,
the spectators every now and then shouting forth their applause. For
some time they kept stamping in a body before the singers, which had an
admirable effect, and did great credit to their dancing attainments;
then one by one they turned round, and danced their way back to the
place they first started from, and sat down. The _palyertatta_ and
_koonteroo_ men were the last who left, and as these three singular
beings stamped their way to the other dancers they made a very odd
appearance.
[Illustration: (1.) THE KURI DANCE. (See page 748.)]
[Illustration: (2.) PALTI DANCE, OR CORROBOREE. (See page 752.)]
“The singing continued for a short time, and then pipes were lighted;
shouts of applause ensued, and boisterous conversation followed. After
resting about ten minutes, the singers commenced again; and soon
after the dancers huddled together, and responded to the call by the
peculiar shout already mentioned, and then performed the same feat
over again--with this variation, that the _palyertatta_ men brought up
the rear, instead of leading the way. Four separate times these parts
of the play were performed with the usual effect; then followed the
concluding one, as follows: after tramping up to the singers, the man
with the _koonteroo_ commenced a part which called forth unbounded
applause; with his head and body inclined on one side, his spear and
feathers behind his back, standing on the left leg, he beat time with
the right foot, twitching his body and eye, and stamping with the
greatest precision; he remained a few minutes in this position, and
then suddenly turned round, stood on his right leg, and did the same
once with his left foot.
“In the mean while the two men with the mystic _palyertatta_ kept
waving their instruments to and fro, corresponding with the motions
of their heads and legs, and the silent trampers performed their part
equally well. The _koonteroo_ man now suddenly stopped, and, planting
his spear in the ground, stood in a stooping position behind it; two
dancers stepped up, went through the same manœuvre as the preceding
party with wonderful regularity, and then gave a final stamp, turned
round, and grasped the spear in a stooping position, and so on with all
the rest, until every dancer was brought to the spear, so forming a
circular body.
“The _palyertatta_ men now performed the same movement on each side
of this body, accompanied with the perpetual motion of the head, leg,
and arm, and then went round and round, and finally gave the arrival
stamp, thrust in their arm, and grasped the spear: at the same time all
sunk on their knees and began to move away in a mass from the singers,
with a sort of grunting noise, while their bodies leaned and tossed
to and fro; when they had got about ten or twelve yards they ceased,
and, giving one long semi-grunt or groan (after the manner of the red
kangaroo, as they say), dispersed.
“During the whole performance, the singing went on in one continued
strain, and, after the last act of the performers, the rattling
accompaniment of the singing ceased, the strain died gradually away,
and shouts and acclamations rent the air.”
There are many other dances among the Australians. There is, for
example, the Frog-dance. The performers paint themselves after the
usual grotesque manner, hike their _wirris_ in their hands, beat them
together, and then squat down and jump after each other in circles,
imitating the movements of the frog. Then there is the emu-dance, in
which all the gestures consist of imitation of emu-hunting, the man who
enacts the part of the bird imitating its voice.
In some parts of Australia they have the canoe dance, one of the most
graceful of these performances.
Both men and women take part in this dance, painting their bodies with
white and red ochre, and each furnished with a stick which represents
the paddle. They begin to dance by stationing themselves in two lines,
but with the stick across their backs and held by the arms, while they
move their feet alternately to the tune of the song with which the
dance is accompanied. At a given signal they all bring the sticks to
the front, and hold them as they do paddles, swaying themselves in
regular time as if they were paddling in one of their light canoes.
Another dance, the object of which is not very certain, is a great
favorite with the Moorundi natives. The men, having previously
decorated their bodies with stripes of red ochre, stand in a line,
while the women are collected in a group and beat time together. The
dance consists in stamping simultaneously with the left foot, and
shaking the fingers of the extended arms. This dance is called Pedeku.
There is a rather curious dance, or movement, with which they often
conclude the performance of the evening. They sit cross-legged round
their fire, beating time with their spears and _wirris_. Suddenly they
all stretch out their arms as if pointing to some distant object,
rolling their eyes fearfully is they do so, and finish by leaping on
their feet with a simultaneous yell that echoes for miles through the
forest.
In his splendid work on South Australia, Mr. Angas describes a rather
curious dance performed by the Parnkalla tribe, in which both sexes
take part. Each man carries a belt made either of human hair or opossum
fur, holding one end in each hand, and keeping the belt tightly
strained. There is a slight variation in the mode of performing this
dance, but the usual plan is for all the men to sit down, while a woman
takes her place in the middle. One of the men then dances up to her,
jumping from side to side, and swaying his arms in harmony with his
movements. The woman begins jumping as her partner approaches, and then
they dance back again, when their place is taken by a fresh couple.
Some persons have supposed that this dance is a religious ceremony,
because it is usually held on clear moonlight evenings. Sometimes,
however, it is performed during the day-time.
The commonest native dance, or “corrobboree,” is that which is known
as the Palti, and which is represented on the 749th page. It is always
danced by night, the fitful blaze of the fire being thought necessary
to bring out all its beauties.
Before beginning this dance, the performers prepare themselves by
decorating their bodies in some grotesque style with white and scarlet
paints, which contrast boldly with the shining black of their skins.
The favorite pattern is the skeleton, each rib being marked by a broad
stripe of white paint, and a similar stripe running down the breast
and along the legs and arms. The face is painted in a similar fashion.
The effect produced by this strange pattern is a most startling one.
Illuminated only by the light of the fire, the black bodies and limbs
are scarcely visible against the dark background, so that, as the
performers pass backward and forward in the movements of the dance,
they look exactly like a number of skeletons endued with life by magic
powers.
This effect is increased by the curious quivering of the legs, which
are planted firmly on the ground, but to which the dancers are able to
impart a rapid vibratory movement from the knees upward. The _wirris_,
or clubs, are held in the hands, as seen in the illustration, and at
certain intervals they are brought over the head, and clashed violently
together. The Palti, as well as the Kuri dance is conducted by a
leader, who gives the word of command for the different movements. Some
of the dancers increase their odd appearance by making a fillet from
the front teeth of the kangaroo, and tying it round their foreheads.
Once in a year, the natives of some districts have a very grand dance,
called the “cobbongo corrobboree,” or great mystery dance. This dance
is performed by the natives of the far interior. An admirable account
of this dance was published in the _Illustrated London News_ of October
3, 1863, and is here given. “The time selected for this great event
is every twelfth moon, and during her declination. For several days
previous a number of tribes whose territories adjoin one another
congregate at a particular spot, characterized by an immense mound of
earth covered with ashes (known amongst the white inhabitants as ‘a
black’s oven’) and surrounded by plenty of ‘couraway’ or water holes.
To this place they bring numbers of kangaroos, ’possums, emus, and wild
ducks, and a large quantity of wild honey, together with the grass from
the seeds of which they make a sort of bread.
“Upon the evening on which the ‘corrobboree’ is celebrated, a number
of old men (one from each tribe), called by the natives ‘wammaroogo,’
signifying medicine men or charm men, repair to the top of the mound,
where, after lighting a fire, they walk round it, muttering sentences
and throwing into it portions of old charms which they have worn round
their necks for the past twelve months. This is continued for about
half an hour, when they descend, each carrying a fire-stick, which he
places at the outskirts of the camp, and which is supposed to prevent
evil spirits approaching. As soon as this is over, during which a most
profound silence is observed by all, the men of the tribe prepare their
toilet for the ‘corrobboree,’ daubing themselves over with chalk, red
ochre, and fat.
“While the men are thus engaged, the gentler sex are busy arranging
themselves in a long line, and in a sitting posture, with rugs made
of ’possum skins doubled round their legs, and a small stick called
‘nullà-nullà’ in each hand. A fire is lighted in front of them, and
tended by one of the old charmers. As the men are ready, they seat
themselves cross-legged like tailors, and in regular ‘serried file,’ at
the opposite side of the fire to the women, while one of the medicine
men takes up his position on the top of the mound to watch the rising
of the moon, which is the signal for ‘corrobboree.’ All is now still;
nothing disturbs the silence save the occasional jabber of a woman or
child, and even that, after a few minutes, is hushed. The blaze of the
fire throws a fitful light along the battalion-like front of the black
phalanx, and the hideous faces, daubed with paint and smeared with
grease, show out at such a moment to anything but advantage.
“As soon as the old gentleman who has been ‘taking the lunar’
announces the advent of that planet, which seems to exercise as great
an influence over the actions of these people as over many of those
amongst ourselves, the ‘corrobboree’ commences. The women beat the
little sticks together, keeping time to a peculiar monotonous air, and
repeating the words, the burden of which when translated may be--
“‘The kangaroo is swift, but swifter is Ngoyulloman;
The snake is cunning, but more cunning is Ngoyulloman,’ &c.,
each woman using the name of her husband or favorite in the tribe. The
men spring to their feet with a yell that rings through the forest,
and, brandishing their spears, boomerangs. &c., commence their dance,
flinging themselves into all sorts of attitudes, howling, laughing,
grinning, and singing; and this they continue till sheer exhaustion
compels them to desist, after which they roast and eat the product of
the chase, gathered for the occasion, and then drop off to sleep one
by one.”
The reader will see that this great mystery “corrobboree” combines
several of the peculiar movements which are to be found in the various
dances that have already been described.
A dance of somewhat similar character used to be celebrated by the
Tasmanians at the occasion of each full moon, as is described by Mr.
G. T. Lloyd. The various tribes assembled at some trysting-place; and
while the women prepared the fire, and fenced off a space for the
dance, the men retired to adorn themselves with paint, and to fasten
bunches of bushy twigs to their ankles, wrists, and waists.
The women being seated at the end of this space, one of the oldest
among them strode forward, calling by name one of the performers,
reviling him as a coward, and challenging him to appear and answer
her charge. The warrior was not long in his response, and, bounding
into the circle through the fire, he proclaimed his deeds of daring in
war and in the hunt. At every pause he made, his female admirers took
up his praises, vaunting his actions in a sort of chant, which they
accompanied by extemporized drums formed of rolled kangaroo skins.
Suddenly, upon some inspiring allegretto movement of the thumping band,
thirty or forty grim savages would bound successively through the
furious flames into the sacred arena, looking like veritable demons
on a special visit to _terra firma_, and, after thoroughly exhausting
themselves by leaping in imitation of the kangaroo around and through
the fire, they vanished in an instant. These were as rapidly succeeded
by their lovely gins, who, at a given signal from the beldame speaker,
rose _en masse_, and ranging themselves round the fresh-plied
flames in a state unadorned and genuine as imported into the world,
contorted their arms, legs, and bodies into attitudes that would shame
first-class acrobats. The grand point, however, with each of the
well-greased beauties was to scream down her sable sister.
This dance, as well as other native customs, has departed, together
with the aborigines, from the island, and the native Tasmanians are
now practically extinct. There is before me a photograph of the three
remaining survivors of these tribes, which some sixty years ago
numbered between six and seven thousand. That they should have so
rapidly perished under the influence of the white man is explained from
the fact that their island is but limited in extent, and that they are
altogether inferior to the aborigines of the continent. They are small
in stature, the men averaging only five feet three inches in height,
and they are very ill-favored in countenance, the line from the nose
to the corners of the mouth being very deep and much curved, so as
to enclose the mouth in a pair of parentheses. The hair is cut very
closely. This is done by means of two sharp-edged fragments of flint,
broken glass being preferred since Europeans settled in the country.
Cutting the hair is necessarily a tedious ceremony, only ten or twelve
hairs being severed at a time, and upwards of three hours being
consumed in trimming a head fit for a dance. Shaving is conducted after
the same manner.
The general habits of the Tasmanian natives agree with those of the
continent. The mode of climbing trees, however, is a curious mixture
of the Australian and Polynesian custom. When the native discovers
the marks of an opossum on the bark, he plucks a quantity of wire
grass, and rapidly lays it up in a three-stranded plait, with which he
encircles the tree and his own waist. By means of a single chop of the
tomahawk he makes a slight notch in the bark, into which he puts his
great toe, raises himself by it, and simultaneously jerks the grass
band up the trunk of the tree. Notch after notch is thus made, and the
native ascends with incredible rapidity, the notches never being less
than three feet six inches apart.
Often, the opossum, alarmed at the sound of the tomahawk, leaves its
nest, and runs along some bare bough, projecting horizontally from
eighty to a hundred feet above the ground. The native walks along the
bough upright and firm as if the tree were his native place, and shakes
the animal into the midst of his companions who are assembled under the
tree.
The natives never, in their wild state, wear clothes of any kind. They
manufacture cloaks of opossum and kangaroo skins, but only in defence
against cold. They are wonderful hunters, and have been successfully
employed by the colonists in tracing sheep that had strayed, or the
footsteps of the thief who had stolen them. The slightest scratch tell
its tale to these quick-eyed people, who know at once the very time at
which the impression was made, and, having once seen it, start off at a
quick pace, and are certain to overtake the fugitive.
The untimely end of the aboriginal Tasmanians is greatly to be
attributed to the conduct of a well-known chief, called Mosquito. He
was a native of Sydney, and, having been convicted of several murders,
was, by a mistaken act of lenity, transported to Tasmania, when he
made acquaintance with the Oyster Bay tribe. Being much taller and
stronger than the natives, he was unanimously elected chief, and took
the command. His reign was most disastrous for the Tasmanians. He ruled
them with a rod of iron, punishing the slightest disobedience with a
blow of his tomahawk, not caring in the least whether the culprit were
killed or not. He organized a series of depredations on the property
of the colonists, and was peculiarly celebrated for his skill in
stealing potatoes, teaching his followers to abstract them from the
ridges, and to rearrange the ground so as to look as if it had never
been disturbed, and to obliterate all traces of their footmarks with
boughs.
Under the influence of such a leader, the natives became murderers as
well as thieves, so that the lives of the colonists were always in
peril. It was therefore necessary to take some decided measures with
them; and after sundry unsuccessful expeditious, the natives at last
submitted themselves, and the whole of them, numbering then (1837)
scarcely more than three hundred, were removed to Flinder’s Island,
where a number of comfortable stone cottages were built for them,
infinitely superior to the rude bough huts or miam-miams of their
own construction. They were liberally supplied with food, clothing,
and other necessaries, as well as luxuries, and the Government even
appointed a resident surgeon to attend them when ill. All this care
was, however, useless. Contact with civilization produced its usual
fruits, and in 1861 the native Tasmanians were only thirteen in number.
Ten have since died, and it is not likely that the three who survived
in 1867 will perpetuate their race.
That the singularly rapid decadence of the Tasmanians was partly caused
by the conduct of the shepherds, and other rough and uneducated men in
the service of the colonists, cannot be denied. But the white offenders
were comparatively few, and quite unable themselves to effect such
a change in so short a time. For the real cause we must look to the
strange but unvariable laws of progression. Whenever a higher race
occupies the same grounds as a lower, the latter perishes, and, whether
in animate or inanimate nature, the new world is always built on the
ruins of the old.
CHAPTER LXXIV.
AUSTRALIA--_Continued_.
DOMESTIC LIFE.
MARRIAGE -- PURCHASE AND EXCHANGE OF WIVES -- A ROUGH WOOING --
TREATMENT OF THE WIVES -- A BRUTAL HUSBAND -- NARROW ESCAPE -- A
FAITHFUL COMPANION -- AUSTRALIAN MOTHERS -- TREATMENT OF THE NEW-BORN
INFANT -- PRACTICE OF INFANTICIDE -- THE MOTHER AND HER DEAD CHILD.
We will now proceed to the domestic life of the native Australian, if,
indeed, their mode of existence deserves such a name, and will begin
with marriage customs.
Betrothal takes place at a very early age, the girl being often
promised in marriage when she is a mere child, her future husband being
perhaps an old man with two or three wives and a number of children.
Of course the girl is purchased from her father, the price varying
according to the means of the husband. Articles of European make are
now exceedingly valued; and as a rule, a knife, a glass bottle, or some
such article, is considered as a fair price for a wife.
Exchange is often practised, so that a young man who happens to have
a sister to spare will look out for some man who has a daughter
unbetrothed, and will effect an amicable exchange with him, so that
a man who possesses sisters by his father’s death is as sure of a
corresponding number of wives as if he had the means wherewith to buy
them.
Until her intended husband takes her to wife, the betrothed girl lives
with her parents, and during this interval she is not watched with
the strictness which is generally exercised toward betrothed girls
of savages. On the contrary, she is tacitly allowed to have as many
lovers as she chooses, provided that a conventional amount of secrecy
be observed, and her husband, when he marries her, makes no complaint.
After marriage, however, the case is altered, and, if a former lover
were to attempt a continuance of the acquaintance, the husband would
avenge himself by visiting both parties with the severest punishment.
There is no ceremony about marriage, the girl being simply taken to the
hut of her husband, and thenceforth considered as his wife.
In some parts of Australia, when a young man takes a fancy to a girl
he obtains her after a rather curious fashion, which seems a very odd
mode of showing affection. Watching his opportunity when the girl
has strayed apart from her friends, he stuns her with a blow on the
head from his waddy, carries her off, and so makes her his wife. The
father of the girl is naturally offended at the loss of his daughter,
and complains to the elders. The result is almost invariably that
the gallant offender is sentenced to stand the ordeal of spear and
boomerang. Furnished with only his narrow shield, he stands still,
while the aggrieved father and other relatives hurl a certain number of
spears and boomerangs at him. It is very seldom that he allows himself
to be touched, but, when the stipulated number of throws has been made,
he is considered as having expiated his offence, whether he be hit or
not.
Polygamy is of course practised, but to no very great extent. Still,
although a man may never have more than two or three wives at a time,
he has often married a considerable number, either discarding them,
when they are too old to please his taste, or perhaps killing them in a
fit of anger. The last is no uncommon mode of getting rid of a wife,
and no one seems to think that her husband has acted cruelly. Indeed,
the genuine native would not be able to comprehend the possibility of
being cruel to his wife, inasmuch as he recognizes in her no right to
kind treatment. She is as much his chattel as his spear or hut, and he
would no more think himself cruel in beating his wife to death than in
breaking the one or burning the other.
Since white men came to settle in the country the natives have learned
to consider them as beings of another sphere, very powerful, but
unfortunately possessed with some unaccountable prejudices. Finding,
therefore, that breaking a wife’s limb with a club, piercing her with
a spear, or any other mode of expressing dissatisfaction, shocked the
prejudices of the white men, they ceased to mention such practices,
though they did not discontinue them.
Quite recently, a native servant was late in keeping his appointment
with his master, and, on inquiry, it was elicited that he had just
quarrelled with one of his wives, and had speared her through the body.
On being rebuked by his master he turned off the matter with a laugh,
merely remarking that white men had only one wife, whereas he had two,
and did not mind losing one until he could buy another.
Considering and treating the women as mere articles of property, the
men naturally repose no confidence in them, and never condescend to
make them acquainted with their plans. If they intend to make an attack
upon another tribe, or to organize an expedition for robbery, they
carefully conceal it from the weaker sex, thinking that such inferior
animals cannot keep secrets, and might betray them to the objects of
the intended attack.
The utter contempt which is felt by the native Australians for their
women is well illustrated by an adventure which occurred after a
dance which had been got up for the benefit of the white men, on the
understanding that a certain amount of biscuit should be given to the
dancers. When the performance was over, the biscuit was injudiciously
handed to a woman for distribution. A misunderstanding at once took
place. The men, although they would not hesitate to take away the
biscuit by force, would not condescend to ask a woman for it, and
therefore considered that the promised payment had not been made to
them. Some of them, after muttering their discontent, slipped away for
their spears and throwing-sticks, and the whole place was in a turmoil.
Fortunately, in order to amuse the natives, the white visitors, who
had never thought of the offence that they had given, sent up a few
rockets, which frightened the people for a time, and then burned a
blue light. As the brilliant rays pierced the dark recesses of the
forest, they disclosed numbers of armed men among the trees, some alone
and others in groups, but all evidently watching the movements of the
visitors whose conduct had so deeply insulted them. A friendly native
saw their danger at once, and hurried them off to their boats, saying
that spears would soon be thrown.
There was much excuse to be found for them. They had been subjected to
one of the grossest insults that warriors could receive. To them, women
were little better than dogs, and, if there were any food, the warriors
first satisfied their own hunger, and then threw to the women any
fragments that might be left. Therefore, that a woman--a mere household
chattel--should be deputed to distribute food to warriors was a gross,
intolerable, and, as they naturally thought, intentional insult. It
was equivalent to degrading them from their rank as men and warriors,
and making them even of less account than women. No wonder, then, that
their anger was roused, and the only matter of surprise is that an
attack was not immediately made. Australian warriors have their own
ideas of chivalry, and, like the knights of old, feel themselves bound
to resent the smallest aspersion cast upon their honor.
Mr. M’Gillivray, who narrates this anecdote makes a few remarks which
are most valuable, as showing the errors which are too often committed
when dealing with savages, not only those of Australia, but of other
countries.
“I have alluded to this occurrence, trivial as it may appear, not
without an object. It serves as an illustration of the policy of
respecting the known customs of the Australian race, even in apparently
trifling matters, at least during the early period of intercourse with
a tribe, and shows how a little want of judgment in the director of
our party caused the most friendly intentions to be misunderstood, and
might have led to fatal results.
“I must confess that I should have considered any injury sustained on
our side to have been most richly merited. Moreover, I am convinced
that some at least of the collisions which have taken place in
Australia between the first European visitors and the natives of any
given district have originated in causes of offence brought on by the
indiscretion of one or more of the party, and revenged on others who
were innocent.”
Mr. M’Gillivray then proceeds to mention the well-known case of the
night attack on Mr. Leichhardt’s expedition. For no apparent reason,
a violent assault was made on the camp, and Mr. Gilbert was killed.
The reason of this attack did not transpire until long afterward,
when a native attached to the expedition divulged, in a state of
intoxication, the fact that he and a fellow-countryman had grossly
insulted a native woman.
Yet, in spite of this brutal treatment, the women often show a depth
of affectionate feeling which raises them far above the brutal savages
that enslave them. One remarkable instance of this feeling is mentioned
by Mr. Bennett. She had formed an attachment to an escaped convict, who
became a bushranger, and enabled him, by her industry and courage, to
prolong the always precarious life of a bushranger beyond the ordinary
limits.
The chief dangers that beset these ruffians are the necessity for
procuring food, and the watch which is always kept by the police. Her
native skill enabled her to supply him with food, and, while he was
lying concealed, she used to fish, hunt, dig roots, and then to cook
them for him. Her native quickness of eye and ear enabled her to detect
the approach of the police, and, by the instinctive cunning with which
these blacks are gifted, she repeatedly threw the pursuers off the
scent. He was utterly unworthy of the affection which she bestowed
on him, and used to beat her unmercifully, but, undeterred by his
cruelty, she never flagged in her exertions for his welfare; and on one
occasion, while he was actually engaged in ill-treating her, the police
came upon his place of refuge, and must have captured him, had she not
again misled them, and sent them to a spot far from the place where he
was hidden. At last, he ventured out too boldly, during her accidental
absence, was captured, tried and hanged. But up to the last this
faithful creature never deserted him, and, even when he was imprisoned,
she tried to follow him, but was reclaimed by her tribe.
When a native woman is about to become a mother she retires into the
bush, sometimes alone, but generally accompanied by a female friend,
and, owing to the strong constitution of these women, seldom remains in
her retirement more than a day or so. Among the natives of Victoria,
the ceremony attending the birth of a child is rather curious, and
is amusingly described by Mr. Lloyd: “While upon the subject of the
Australian aborigines, I must not omit to describe the very original
_modus operandi_ of the indigenous _sage femme_.
“The unhappy loobra (native woman) retired with her wise woman into
some lone secluded dell, abounding with light sea-sand. A fire was
kindled, and the wretched miam-miam speedily constructed. Then came
the slender repast, comprising a spare morsel of kangaroo or other
meat, supplied with a sparing hand by her stoical coolie (male native),
grilled, and graced with the tendrils of green opiate cow-thistles, or
the succulent roots of the bulbous leaf ‘mernong.’
“The sable attendant soon entered upon her interesting duties. One of
the first was, to light a second fire over a quantity of prepared sand,
that had been carefully divested of all fibrous roots, pebbles, or
coarser matter. The burning coals and faggots were removed from thence,
upon some nice calculation as to the period of the unfortunate little
nigger’s arrival. When the miniature representative of his sable father
beheld the light of day, a hole was scratched in the heated sand, and
the wee russet-brown thing safely deposited therein, in a state of
perfect nudity, and buried to the very chin, so effectually covered
up as to render any objectionable movement on his or her part utterly
impossible.
“So far as any infantine ebullitions of feeling are concerned, the
learned _sages femmes_ appeared to have a thorough knowledge as to the
world-wide method of treating the mewling and puking importunities of
unreasoning nurslings. They knew well that a two-hours’ sojourn in the
desert sand, warm as it might be, would do much to cool the new comer,
and temper it into compliance. At the expiration of that time, having
acquired so much knowledge of earthly troubles, the well-baked juvenile
was considered to be thoroughly done, and thereupon introduced to his
delighted loobra mamma.”
Following the custom of many savage nations, the Australians too often
destroy their children in their first infancy. Among the Muralug tribes
the practice is very common. It has already been mentioned that the
girls live very unrestrainedly before marriage, and the result is, that
a young woman will sometimes have several children before her marriage.
As a general rule, these children are at once killed, unless the father
be desirous of preserving them. This, however, is seldom the case, and
he usually gives the order “Márana teio,” _i. e._ Throw it into the
hole, when the poor little thing is at once buried alive. Even those
children which are born after marriage are not always preserved. In the
first place, a woman will scarcely ever take charge of more than three
children, and many a female child is destroyed where a male would be
allowed to live.
All children who have any bodily defect are sure to be killed, and,
as a general rule, half-caste children are seldom allowed to live.
The mothers are usually ashamed to acknowledge these murders, but in
one case the unnatural parent openly avowed the deed, saying that
the infant was like a waragul, _i. e._ the native dog or dingo. The
fact was that its father was a sailor who had fiery red hair, and his
offspring partook of the same rufous complexion. Of course there are
exceptions to the rule, one of which may be found in the case of the
poor woman who was so faithful to her convict mate. She had a male
child, which was brought up by the tribe to which she belonged, and
they were so fond of him that they refused to give him up when some
benevolent persons tried to obtain possession of him in order to
educate him in civilization.
If, however, the child is allowed to live, the Australian mother is a
very affectionate one, tending her offspring with the greatest care,
and in her own wild way being as loving a parent as can be found in any
part of the world. The engraving No. 2, on the next page, illustrates
this devotion of Australian mothers to their children.
In nothing is this affection better shown than in the case of a child’s
death. Although she might have consigned it when an infant to a living
grave without a pang of remorse, yet, when it dies after having been
nurtured by her, she exhibits a steady sorrow that exhibits the depth
of affection with which she regarded the child. When it dies, she
swathes the body in many wrappers, places it in her net-bul, or native
wallet, and carries it about with her as if it were alive. She never
parts with it for a moment. When she eats she offers food to the dead
corpse, as if it were still alive, and when she lies down to sleep,
she lays her head upon the wallet, which serves her as a pillow. The
progress of decay has no effect upon her, and though the body becomes
so offensive that no one can come near her, she seems unconscious of
it, and never dreams of abandoning the dreadful burden. In process of
time nothing is left but the mere bones, but even these are tended in
the same loving manner, and even after the lapse of years the mother
has been known to bear, in addition to her other burdens, the remains
of her dead child. Even when the child has been from six to seven years
old she will treat it in the same manner, and, with this burden on her
back, will continue to discharge her heavy domestic duties.
[Illustration: (1.) AN AUSTRALIAN FEAST. (See page 763.)]
[Illustration: (2.) AUSTRALIAN MOTHERS. (See page 758.)]
CHAPTER LXXV.
AUSTRALIA--_Continued_.
FROM CHILDHOOD TO MANHOOD.
AUSTRALIAN CHILDREN -- CEREMONIES ATTENDANT ON BECOMING MEN --
ADMISSION TO THE RANK OF HUNTER -- CEREMONY OF THE KANGAROO -- THE
KORADJEES AND THEIR DUTIES -- KNOCKING OUT THE TOOTH -- TRIAL BY
ENDURANCE -- TEST OF DETERMINATION -- THE MAGIC CRYSTAL -- THE FINAL
FEAST -- INITIATION AMONG THE MOORUNDI AND PARNKALLA TRIBE -- THE
WITARNA, AND ITS DREADED SOUND -- THE WHISPERERS -- TAKING THE SECOND
DEGREE -- THE APRON AND HEAD-NET -- THE THIRD AND LAST CEREMONY --
ENDURANCE OF PAIN -- A NAUO MAN -- STORY OF GI’ÔM -- MAKING KOTAIGA
OR BROTHERHOOD.
Australian children, while they remain children, and as such are under
the dominion of their mothers, are rather engaging little creatures.
They cannot be called pretty, partly owing to the total neglect, or
rather ignorance, of personal cleanliness, and partly on account of
the diet with which they are fed. Their eyes are soft, and possess the
half-wistful, half-wild expression that so peculiarly distinguishes
the young savage. But they are never washed except by accident, their
profuse black hair wanders in unkempt masses over their heads, and
their stomachs protrude exactly like those of the young African savage.
In process of time they lose all these characteristics. The wistful
expression dies out of their eyes, while the restless, suspicious
glance of the savage takes its place. They become quarrelsome,
headstrong, and insubordinate, and, after exhibiting these
qualifications for a higher rank in life, they become candidates for
admission into the rights and privileges of manhood. Among civilized
nations, attaining legal majority is a simple process enough, merely
consisting of waiting until the candidate is old enough; but with many
savage nations, and specially with the Australians, the process of
becoming men is a long, intricate, and singularly painful series of
ceremonies.
These rites vary according to the locality in which they are
celebrated, but they all agree in one point, namely,--in causing very
severe pain to the initiates, and testing to the utmost their endurance
of pain. As many of these rites are almost identical in different
tribes, I shall not repeat any of them, but only mention those points
in which the ceremonies differ from each other.
One of these customs, which seems to belong to almost every variety of
savage life, namely, the loss of certain teeth, flourishes among the
Australians. The mode of extracting the teeth is simple enough. The men
who conduct the ceremony pretend to be very ill, swoon, and writhe on
the ground, and are treated after the usual method of healing the sick,
_i. e._ their friends make a howling and shouting, dance round and hit
them on the back, until each sick man produces a piece of sharp bone.
This ceremony being intended to give the initiates power over the
various animals, a series of appropriate ceremonies are performed. On
the morning after the sharp bones have been mysteriously produced, the
Koradjees, or operators, dress themselves up with bits of fur and other
decorations, which are conventionally accepted as representing the
dingo, or native dog. The wooden sword, which is thrust into a belt,
sticks up over the back, and takes the place of the tail. The boys are
then made to sit on the ground, while the koradjees run round and
round them on all fours, thus representing dogs, and giving the lads to
understand that the succeeding ceremony will give them power over dogs.
In token of this power, each time that they pass the boys they throw
sand and dust over them.
Here it must be remarked that the Australian natives are great
dog-fanciers, the dog being to them what the pig is to the Sandwich
Islanders. There is scarcely a lad who does not possess at least one
dog, and many have several, of which they take charge from earliest
puppyhood, and which accompany their masters wherever they go. Besides
their value as companions, these dogs are useful for another reason.
They are a safeguard against famine; for when a man is in danger of
starving, he is sure to rescue himself by killing and cooking his
faithful dog. The animal has never cost him any trouble. It forages for
itself as it best can, and always adheres to its owner, and is always
at hand when wanted. The object, therefore, of the first part of the
ceremony is to intimate to the lads that they are not only to have
dominion over the dogs, but that they ought to possess its excellent
qualities.
The next part of the ceremony is intended to give them power over the
kangaroos.
Accordingly, a stout native now appears on the scene, bearing on his
shoulders the rude effigy of a kangaroo, made of grass; and after him
walks another man with a load of brushwood. The men move with measured
steps, in time to the strokes of clubs upon shields, wherewith the
spectators accompany the songs which they sing. At the end of the
dance, the men lay their burdens at the feet of the youths, the grass
effigy signifying the kangaroo, and the brushwood being accepted as a
sign of its haunts.
The koradjees now take upon themselves the character of the kangaroo,
as they formerly personated the dog. They make long ropes of grass in
imitation of the kangaroo’s tail, and fasten them at the back of their
girdles. They then imitate the various movements of the kangaroo, such
as leaping, feeding, rising on their feet and looking about them, or
lying down on their sides and scratching themselves, as kangaroos do
when basking in the sun. As they go through these performances, several
men enact the part of hunters, and follow them with their spears,
pretending to steal upon them unobserved, and so to kill them.
After a few more ceremonies, the men lie on the ground, and the boys
are led over their prostrate bodies, the men groaning and writhing, and
pretending to suffer horrible agony from the contact with uninitiates.
At last the boys are drawn up in a row, and opposite to them stands the
principal koradjee, holding his shield and waddy, with which he keeps
up a series of regular strokes, the whole party poising their spears
at him, and at every third stroke touching his shield.
The operators now proceed to the actual removal of the tooth. The
initiates are placed on the shoulders of men seated on the ground, and
the operator then lances the gums freely with the sharp bone. One end
of a wummerah, or throw-stick, is next placed on the tooth, and a sharp
blow is struck with the stone, knocking out the tooth, and often a
piece of gum also if the lancing has not been properly done.
Among another tribe, the initiate is seated opposite a tree. A stick is
then placed against the trunk of the tree, with its other end resting
on the tooth. The operator suddenly pushes the lad’s head forward,
when, as a matter of course, the tooth comes out. The blood is allowed
to flow over the spot, and, as it is a sign of manhood, is never washed
off.
The tooth being finally extracted, the boy is led to a distance, and
his friends press the wounded gum together, and dress him in the
emblems of his rank as a man. The opossum fur belt, or kumeel, is
fastened round his waist, and in it is thrust the wooden sword, which
he, as a warrior, is now expected to use. A bandage is tied round his
forehead, in which are stuck a number of grass-tree leaves; his left
hand is placed over his mouth, and for the rest of the day he is not
allowed to eat.
In some parts of the country there is a curious addition to the mere
loss of the tooth. The warriors stand over the lad, exhorting him to
patience, and threatening him with instant death if he should flinch,
cry out, or show any signs of pain. The operators then deliberately cut
long gashes all down his back, and others upon his shoulders. Should he
groan, or display any symptoms of suffering, the operators give three
long and piercing yells, as a sign that the youth is unworthy to be a
warrior. The women are summoned, and the recreant is handed over to
them, ever after to be ranked with the women, and share in their menial
and despised tasks.
Even after passing the bodily ordeal, he has to undergo a mental trial.
There is a certain mysterious piece of crystal to which various magic
powers are attributed, and which is only allowed to be seen by men, who
wear it in their hair, tied up in a little packet. This crystal, and
the use to which it is put, will be described when we come to treat of
medicine among the Australians.
The youth having been formally admitted as a huntsman, another ring
is formed round him, in order to see whether his firmness of mind
corresponds with his endurance of body. Into the hands of the maimed
and bleeding candidate the mysterious crystal is placed. As soon as he
has taken it, the old men endeavor by all their arts to persuade him
to give it up again. Should he be weak-minded enough to yield, he is
rejected as a warrior; and not until he has successfully resisted all
their threats and cajoleries is he finally admitted into the rank of
men.
The ceremony being over, a piercing yell is set up as a signal for the
women to return to the camp, and the newly-admitted man follows them,
accompanied by their friends, all chanting a song of joy, called the
_korinda braia_. They then separate to their respective fires, where
they hold great feastings and rejoicings (see engraving No. 1, page
759); and the ceremonies are concluded with the dances in which the
Australians so much delight.
As may be gathered from the account of these ceremonies, the lad who is
admitted into the society of hunters thinks very much of himself, and
addresses himself to the largest game of Australia; namely, the emu and
the dingo. When he has succeeded in killing either of these creatures,
he makes a trophy, which he carries about for some time, as a proof
that he is doing credit to his profession. This trophy consists of a
stick, a yard or so in length, to one end of which is tied the tail of
the first dingo he kills, or a huge tuft of feathers from the first
emu. These trophies he displays everywhere, and is as proud of them as
an English lad of his first brush, or of his first pheasant’s tail.
Among the Moorundi natives, who live on the great Murray River, another
ceremony is practised. When the lads are about sixteen years old, and
begin to grow the beard and moustache which become so luxuriant in
their after-life, preparations are quietly made by sending for some
men from a friendly tribe, who are called, from their office, the
_weearoos_, or pluckers. When they have arrived, the lads who have been
selected are suddenly pounced upon by some one of their own tribe, and
conducted to the place of initiation, which is marked by two spears
set in the ground, inclining to each other, and being decorated with
bunches of emu feathers. They are then smeared over with red ochre and
grease, and the women flock round them, crying bitterly, and cutting
their own legs with mussel-shells, until they inflict horrible gashes,
and cause the blood to flow abundantly. In fact, a stranger would think
that the women, and not the lads, were the initiates.
The boys lie down, with their heads to the spears, surrounded by their
anxious friends, who watch them attentively to see if they display any
indications of flinching from pain. The weearoos now advance, and pluck
off every hair from their bodies, thus causing a long and irritating
torture. When they have endured this process, green branches are
produced, and fastened to the bodies of the lads, one being worn as
an apron, and the others under the arms. Two kangaroo teeth are then
fastened in the hair, and the young men, as they are now termed, are
entitled to wear a bunch of emu feathers in their hair.
With another tribe there is a curious variation. The initiate is
brought to the selected spot by an old man, and laid on his back in the
midst of five fires, each fire consisting of three pieces of wood laid
across each other so as to form a triangle. An opossum-skin bag is laid
on his face, and the various operations are then performed.
Among the Parnkallas, and other western tribes, there are no less than
three distinct ceremonies before the boys are acknowledged as men.
The first ceremony is a very simple one. When the boys are twelve
or fifteen years old, they are carried away from the women, and are
blindfolded. The operators then begin to shout the words “Herri, herri”
with the full force of their lungs, swinging at the same time the
mysterious instrument called the _witarna_.
This mysterious implement is a small shuttle-shaped piece of wood,
covered with carved ornaments, and being suspended, by a hole cut at
one end, from a string made of plaited human hair. When swung rapidly
in the air, it makes a loud humming or booming sound. The witarna is
kept by the old men of the tribe, and is invested with sundry and
somewhat contradictory attributes. Its sound is supposed to drive away
evil spirits, and at the same time to be very injurious to women and
children, no uninitiated being allowed to hear it. Consequently the
women are horribly afraid of it, and take care to remove themselves and
their children so far from the place of initiation that there is no
chance of being reached by the dreaded sound.
When the witarna has been duly swung, and the blindfolded boys have
for the first time heard its booming sound, the operators advance,
and blacken the faces of the boys, ordering them at the same time to
cease from using their natural voices, and not to speak above a whisper
until they are released from their bondage. They remain whisperers for
several months, and, when they resume their voices, assume the title of
warrara.
They remain in the condition of warrara for at least two, and sometimes
three years, when they undergo a ceremony resembling the circumcision
of the Jews. Their hair is tied in a bunch on the top of the head, is
not allowed to be cut, and is secured by a net.
The net used for this purpose is made out of the tendons drawn from the
tails of kangaroos. When they kill one of these animals, the natives
always reserve the tendons, dry them carefully in the sun, and keep
them in reserve for the many uses to which they are put. The sinews
taken from the leg of the emu are dried and prepared in the same
manner. In order to convert the sinew into thread, two of the fibres
are taken and rolled upon the thigh, just as is done with the fibre
of the bulrush root. A thread of many yards long is thus spun, and is
formed into a net with meshes made exactly after the European fashion.
Sometimes it is left plain, but usually it is colored with red ochre,
or white with pipe-clay, according to the taste of the wearer. These
tendons, by the way, are valued by the white colonists, who use them
chiefly for whip-lashes, and say that the tendon is more durable than
any other material.
The initiates of the second degree are also distinguished by wearing
a bell-shaped apron, made of opossum fur spun together, and called
“mabbirringe.” This is worn until the third and last ceremony. The
young men are now distinguished by the name of Partnapas, and are
permitted to marry, though they are not as yet considered as belonging
to the caste, if we may so call it, of warriors.
Even now, the young men have not suffered sufficient pain to take
their full rank, and in course of time a ceremony takes place in which
they become, so to speak, different beings, and change, not only their
appearance, but their names. Up to this time, they have borne the names
given to them by their mothers in childhood, names which are always
of a trivial character, and which are mostly numerical. For example,
if the first child be a boy, it is called Peri (_i. e._ Primus); if a
girl, Kartanya (_i. e._ Prima). The second boy is Wari (or Secundus),
the second girl Waruyau, and so on. Sometimes the name is taken
from the place where the child was born, or from some accidental
circumstance, such as the appearance of a bird or insect, or the
falling of a shower of rain. But, when the youth becomes a man, he puts
away this childish name, and chooses another for himself, which marks
him out as a man and a warrior. The process of converting a lad into a
man is admirably told by Mr. G. F. Angas:--
“In the third and last ceremony the young men are styled _Wilyalkanye_,
when the most important rites take place. Each individual has a sponsor
chosen for him, who is laid on his back upon another man’s lap, and
surrounded by the operators, who enjoin him to discharge his duties
aright. The young men are then led away from the camp, and blindfolded;
the women lamenting and crying, and pretending to object to their
removal.
“They are taken to a retired spot, laid upon their stomachs, and
entirely covered over with kangaroo skins; the men uttering the most
dismal wail imaginable, at intervals of from three to five minutes.
After lying thus for some time, the lads are raised, and, whilst still
blindfolded, two men throw green boughs at them, while the others
stand in a semicircle around, making a noise with their _wirris_ and
voices combined, which is so horrible that the wild dogs swell the
hideous chorus with their howlings. Suddenly one of the party drops a
bough, others follow; and a platform of boughs is made, on which the
lads are laid out. The sponsors then turn to and sharpen their pieces
of quartz, choosing a new name for each lad, which is retained by him
during life. These names all end either in _alta_, _ilti_, or _ulta_.
Previous to this day they have borne the names of their birth-places,
&c.; which is always the case amongst the women, who never change them
afterward. The sponsors now open the veins of their own arms, and,
raising the lads, open their mouths, and make them swallow the first
quantity of blood.
“The lads are then placed on their hands and knees, and the blood
caused to run over their backs, so as to form one coagulated mass;
and when this is sufficiently cohesive, one man marks the places for
the tattooing by removing the blood with his thumb nail. The sponsor
now commences with his quartz, forming a deep incision in the nape of
the neck, and then cutting broad gashes from the shoulder to the hip
down each side, about an inch apart. These gashes are pulled open by
the fingers as far as possible; the men all the while repeating very
rapidly, in a low voice, the following incantation:--
“‘Kanya, marra, marra,
Kano, marra, marra,
Pilbirri, marra, marra.’
When the cutting is over, two men take the _witarnas_, and swing them
rapidly round their heads, advancing all the time toward the young men.
The whole body of operators now draw round them, singing and beating
their _wirris_, and, as they reach the lads, each man puts the string
of the _witarna_ over the neck of every lad in succession. A bunch of
green leaves is tied round the waist, above which is a girdle of human
hair; a tight string is fastened round each arm just above the elbow,
with another about the neck, which descends down the back, and is fixed
to the girdle of hair; and their faces and the upper part of their
bodies, as far as the waist, are blackened with charcoal.
“The ceremony concludes by the men all clustering round the initiated
ones, enjoining them again to whisper for some months, and bestowing
upon them their advice as regards hunting, fighting and contempt of
pain. All these ceremonies are carefully kept from the sight of the
women and children; who, when they hear the sound of the _witarna_,
hide their heads, and exhibit every outward sign of terror.”
[Illustration: (1.) MINTALTA, A NAUO MAN. (See page 764.)]
[Illustration: (2.) YOUNG MAN AND BOY. (South Australia.) (See page
771.)]
[Illustration: (3.) SMALL STONE HUT FOR CURE OF DISEASE. (See p. 771.)]
[Illustration: (4.) TOMB OF SKULLS. (Cape York.) (See page 773.)]
The illustration No. 1, on page 765, is given in order to show the
curious appearance which is sometimes presented by the men when they
have successfully passed through their various ordeals. The name of the
man was Mintalta, and he belonged to the Nauo tribe, which lives near
Coffin’s Bay. In his hand he holds the waddy, and, by way of apron,
he wears a bunch of emu feathers. Across his breast are seen the bold
ridges which mark his rank as a man, and others are seen upon his arms.
His beard is gathered into a long pointed tuft, and decorated with a
little bunch of white cockatoo feathers at the tip. In his hair he
wears two curious ornaments. These are not feather plumes, as they seem
to be in the illustration, but are simply slender sticks of white wood,
scraped so as to let the shavings adhere by one end. Indeed, they are
made exactly like those little wooden brooms that are sometimes hawked
by German girls about the streets, or, to use a more familiar simile,
like the curly-branched trees in children’s toy-boxes.
Many of the particulars which have been and will be related of the
domestic life of the Australians were obtained in a very curious
manner. In the autumn of 1849 some persons belonging to H.M.S.
_Rattlesnake_ were out shooting, when they came across a native woman,
or gin, dressed rather better than the generality of native women, as
she wore a narrow apron of leaves. To their astonishment, the supposed
gin addressed them in English, saying that she was a white woman, and
desired their help. They immediately furnished her with some clothing,
and brought her on board the _Rattlesnake_, where she contrived to make
known her sad story. Her name was Thomson, and she was the widow of the
owner of a small vessel. Cruising one day in search of a wreck, the
pilot missed his way, a gale of wind came on, and the vessel was dashed
on a reef on the Eastern Prince of Wales Island. The men tried to swim
on shore through the surf, but were drowned, while the woman was saved
by a party of natives, who came on board the wreck after the gale had
subsided, and took her ashore.
The tribe into whose hands she had fallen was the Kowrárega, which
inhabits Muralug, on the Western Prince of Wales Island. When she got
ashore, one of the principal men, who fully held the popular idea
that the white men are the ghosts of dead natives, recognized in Mrs.
Thomson a daughter named Gi’ôm, who had long ago died. He accordingly
took her home as his daughter, she was acknowledged by the tribe as one
of themselves, and was forced to become the wife of one of the natives,
called Boroto.
For nearly five years she was kept prisoner by the blacks, and,
although she could see many English ships pass within a few miles, she
was so closely watched that escape was hopeless. At last, when the
smoke signals told the tribe that another vessel was approaching,
Gi’ôm cleverly worked on the cupidity of the aborigines, and persuaded
them to take her to the mainland, promising them to procure plenty of
axes, knives, tobacco, and other things which an Australian savage
values above all things, and saying that she had lived so long with
the natives that she could not think of leaving them. When she was
safely lodged on board, many of her friends came to see her, bringing
presents of fish and turtle, but always expecting an equivalent. Boroto
was one of the visitors, and in vain tried to persuade her to return.
When she definitely refused, he became very angry, and left the ship
in a passion, declaring that, if he or any of his friends could catch
her ashore, they would take off her head and carry it to Muralug. Not
feeling the least doubt that the threat would be fulfilled, she never
ventured on shore near those parts of the coast which the Kowráregas
seemed likely to visit.
Being a woman of no education, she had in the course of her sojourn
among the natives almost forgotten how to express herself in her native
tongue, and for some time mixed Kowrárega words and phrases with
English in a very curious manner. A vast amount of valuable information
was obtained from her, but when she was restored to civilization, she
forgot the language and customs of savage life with singular rapidity,
her untrained mind being unable to comprehend the mutual relationship
of ideas, and utterly incapable of generalization.
From her was learned the curious but dreadful fact that many of the
really unprovoked assaults on ships’ crews while unsuspectingly
visiting the shore were instigated by white men, who had degraded
themselves into companionship with native tribes, and, by reason of
their superior knowledge, had gained a supremacy over them. One of
these men had lived with the Badu tribe many years, and, having heard
of a white woman among the Kowráregas, visited Muralug, and tried to
induce Gi’ôm to leave Boroto and share his fortunes. Who he was is not
known. He goes by the name of Wini, and is supposed to be an escaped
convict, who repels the visits of English ships, lest he should be
captured and sent back to prison. By means of his instigations, the
Badu people became so violently opposed to all white men that any
European who visited that part of the country would do so at the
imminent hazard of his life.
Among many of these tribes, there is a custom which is common also to
many savages in all parts of the world. This is the custom of making
“kotaiga,” or brotherhood, with strangers. When Europeans visit their
districts, and behave as they ought to do, the natives generally unite
themselves in bonds of fellowship with the strangers, each selecting
one of them as his kotaiga. The new relations are then considered as
having mutual responsibilities, each being bound to forward the welfare
of the other.
The memory of the natives is wonderful, and, even if a ship does not
repeat a visit until after a lapse of several years, no sooner does
she arrive than the natives swarm on board, and at once pick out
their kotaigas. They bring presents to their guests while on board;
they accompany them joyfully to the shore; they carry their bags and
haversacks for them; they take them on hunting, shooting, and fishing
excursions, point out the game, retrieve it, no matter where it may
have fallen, and carry it home on their shoulders rejoicing. Of course
they expect biscuit and tobacco in return for their kind offices, but
the wages are very cheap, and their services are simply invaluable. The
rescue of Mr. M’Gillivray and his party from the threatened attack of
the natives was owing to the fact that one of them, the friendly native
who gave him warning, and saw him and his party safely off in their
boats, was his kotaiga, and bound in honor to save him.
INDEX.
A.
Abyssinia, 641.
Accawaios, So. America, 1222.
Admiralty Islanders, 970.
Adoption of Parents, Namaquas, 279.
AGRICULTURE among the
Badema, 367. Bakalai, 492. Batoka, 350. Bayeye, 338. Bouka, 971.
Dinka, 470. Djour, 448. Fuegians, 1168. Gani, 430. Guianans,
1246. Hebrides, New, 972. Hottentots, 231. Kaffirs, 138, 139-144.
Manganjas, 355. Ovambos, 319. Shekiani, 522. Wasagara, 407. Watusi,
409.
Ahitas, Philippine Islands, 920.
Ahts, Vancouver’s Island, 1354.
Ajitas, Philippine Islands, 920.
Alapu-ches, Chili, S. A., 1190.
Alfoërs, New Guinea, 905.
Alfouras, New Guinea, 905.
Amaharas, Africa, 667.
Amakosa, Africa, 12.
Amaponda, Africa, 12.
Amaswazi, Africa, 12.
Amatonga, Africa, 12.
Amazonians, So. Am., 1215.
Amazons, Africa, 567.
Amazulu, Africa, 12.
Amulets, see Charms.
AMUSEMENTS among the
Ahts, 1336. Apono, 487. Araucanians, 1204. Australians, 748-753.
Bayeye, 339. Bechuanas, 293, 297. Begharmis, 639. Bosjesmans,
262-4. Camma, 509. Co-yukons, 1375. Damaras, 313. Dory, 917. Dyaks,
1141-1144. Esquimaux, 1349. Fanti, 553. Fijians, 954. Gallas, 671.
Ghoorkas, 1424. Guianans, 1252-1255. Hottentots, 234-236. Indians,
N. A., 1285-1298, 1320-1325. Ishogo, 479. Japanese, 1454, 1462.
Kaffirs, 144-147. Korannas, 270. Madi, 433. Makololo, 335. Malemutes,
1374. Maories, 845. Marquesans, 1049. Namaquas, 278. Ovambos, 320.
Pelew Islanders, 1108. Samoans, 1026. Sandwich Islanders, 1092-1096.
Shooas, 629. Tahitans, 1062, 1063. Tasmanians, 753. Tibboos, 633.
Tongans, 995, 996, 1004. Tuaricks, 634. Tungusi, 1380. Wanyoro, 426.
Wanyamuezi, 390-393. Waraus, 1261. Watusi, 409. Zealanders, New,
818-822.
Ancient Europe, 1473.
Andamaners, 888.
Anecdote of Korannas, 269.
Anecdotes of Bosjesmans, 267.
Aneiteum, New Hebrides, 975.
Angolese, Africa, 380.
ANIMALS of
Australia, 701. Guiana, 1222. Fondness for in Guiana, 1258. Dogs of
Esquimaux, 1346. Of Africa, 126. Of Kaffirs, 127, 140. Of India,
1416-1421.
Apingi, Africa, 488.
Apono, Africa, 484.
Aprons of Kaffirs, Africa, 48.
Arabs, Africa, 687.
Araucanians, S. A., 1190.
Arawaks, Guiana, 1222.
ARCHITECTURE of
Abyssinia, 667. Ahts, 1369. Ancient Europe, 1473. Andamaners, 892.
Apono, 487. Australians, 784-786. Bakalai, 491. Balonda, 378. B ari,
464. Bayeye, 339. Bechuanas, 297, 299. Bedouins, 682. Begharmis, 635.
Bonny, 601. Bornabi, 1103. Bornuese, 626. Bosjesmans, 251. Britain,
New, 970. Caledonians, New, 884. Dahome, 562. Damaras, 310-311.
Dor, 447. Dory, 914. Dyaks, 1149-1150. Egbas, 592. Esquimaux, 1335.
Fijians, 956. Fuegians, 1165. Gani, 429. Guianans, 1245-1270. Guinea,
New, 912. Hassaniyeh, 686. Hervey Islanders, 1037. Hottentots, 227,
228. Hovas, 690. Indians, N. A., 1329. Ingeletes, 1375. Ireland, New,
970. Ishogos, 476. Japanese, 1461. Kaffirs, 56, 62, 207. Kanemboos,
627. Kingsmill Islanders, 1038. Madi, 433. Makololo, 328. Malagasy,
690. Malemutes, 1374. Maories, 866. Mapuchés, 1192. Marquesans,
1049. Mexicans, 1272. Nicobarians, 896. Niuans, 1056. Nubians,
674. Obongos, 482. Ostiaks, 1384. Outanatas, 901. Ovambos, 316.
Patagonians, 1185. Pelew Islanders, 1108. Samoans, 1031. Shekiani,
522. Shillooks, 472. Shooas, 629. Siamese, 1472. Society Islanders,
1073. Tungusi, 1379. Waganda, 419. Wanyamuezi, 389. Waraus, 1268.
Wazaramo, 406.
Armor of Japanese, 1460.
Art of Japanese, 1465.
Ashangos, Africa, 480.
Ashanti, Africa, 554.
Ashira, Africa, 496.
Assagais, Kaffir, Africa, 94, 100.
Aurora, description of, 1352.
Australia, Polynesia, 694.
Ayhuttisahts, Vancouver’s Island, 1354.
B.
Badema, Africa, 367.
Baenda-pezi, or Go-Nakeds, Batoka, 349.
Bahurotsi, Africa, 280.
Bakalai, Africa, 491.
Bakoba, Africa, 337.
Bakwains, Africa, 280.
Balonda, Africa, 369.
Balondo, Africa, 369.
Bamairis, Africa, 286.
Bamangwato, Africa, 295.
Bantus, Africa, 11.
Banyai, Africa, 361.
Barber, Chinese, 1427.
Barea, Africa, 668.
Bari, Africa, 462.
Barolongs, Africa, 280.
Bathing, Japanese, 1453, 1454.
Batlapis, Africa, 280.
Batlares, Africa, 286.
Batoanas, Africa, 337.
Batoka, Africa, 348.
Batonga, Africa, 348.
Bayeye, Africa, 337.
Beauty, see Women.
Bechuanas, Africa, 280.
Bedouins, Africa, 681.
Begharmis, Africa, 635.
Betrothal, see Marriage.
Blackfeet, North America, 1273.
Bonny, Africa, 600.
Bornabi, Caroline Islands, 1103.
Bornuese, Africa, 620.
Bosjesman, Africa, 242.
Bouka, Polynesia, 971.
Brahmins, India, 1408.
Britain, New, Polynesia, 969.
Brumer’s Island, Australasia, 907.
Bubes, Africa, 610.
BURIAL of the dead among
Abyssinians, 659. Ahitas, 921. Ahts, 1373. Ajitas, 921. Alfoërs,
906. Angolese, 328-383. Apingi, 490. Apono, 488. Araucanians,
1210. Ashira, 503. Australians, 772-777. Balonda, 380. Bari, 464.
Bechuanas, 300. Camma, 520. Co-yukons, 1375. Dahome, 588. Damaras,
314. Dory, 917. Dyaks, 1160. Esquimaux, 1351. Fanti, 550. Fijians,
965-967. Of Fijian chief, 965. Hottentots, 241. Indians, N. A., 1330.
Kaffir, 200-295. Karague, 405. Kingsmill Islanders, 1043. Krumen,
548. Latookas, 459. Makololo, 336. Manganjas, 360. Marquesans,
1051. Mincopies, 895. Mpongwé, 527. Nicobarians, 897. Niuans, 1056.
Obongos, 483. Patagonians, 1189. Pelew Islanders, 1109. Samoïedes,
1382. Siamese, 1472. Sioux, 1330. Society Islanders, 1076. Sowrahs,
1389. Tongans, 1004. Waganda, 421. Wanyamuezi, 396. Wanyoro, 428.
Wazaramo, 406. Zealand, New, 869-874.
Bushman, Africa, 242.
Button, Chinese, 1429.
C.
Caledonians, New, 883.
Camanchees, N. A., 1289.
Camma, Africa, 504.
CANNIBALISM among
Ahts, 1372. Andamaners, 891. Australians, 747. In Britain, New, 970.
Bonny, 602. Caledonia, New, 885. Among Caribs, 1240. Fans, 530-535.
Fijians, 942-946. Fuegians, 1167. In Ireland, New, 970. Among Isle
of Pines Men, 887. Kingsmill Islanders, 1040. Maories, 834-837.
Marquesans, 1051. Niuans, 1056. Papuans, 900. Samoans, 1022-1023.
Sandwich Islanders, 1091. Society Islanders, 1073. Solomon Islanders,
968. Tanna, 972. Tungusi, 1379.
CANOES, making and skill in management of, among
Admiralty Islanders, 971. Ahts, 1362. Australians, 701-717. Batoka,
349. Bayeye, 338. Bouka, 971. Brumer Islanders, 908-911. Caledonians,
New, 829. Dyaks, 1136. Esquimaux, 1344. Fanti, 549. Fijians, 932.
Fuegians, 1168. In Guinea, New, 913. Among Indians, N. A., 1325.
Krumen, 544. Makoba, 340. Makololo, 327. Maories, 825. Marquesans,
1051. Mincopies, 890. Nicobarians, 897. Niuans, 1056. Outanatas,
902. Papuans, 900. Pelew Islanders, 1107. Samoans, 1020. In San
Christoval, 970. Among Society Islanders, 1074, Solomon Islanders,
969. Waraus, 1222, 1262.
Caribs, Guiana, S. A., 1222.
Caroline Islands, 1100.
CASTE, among
Damaras, 312. Karague, 399. Khonds, 1393. Sowrahs, 1385. Zealanders,
New, 792.
Catlin’s portrait of Indian dandy, 1279.
CATTLE of the
Balonda, 376. Bosjesmans, 254. Damaras, 310. Hottentots, 233.
Kaffirs, 66-71. Kytch, 439. Latookas, 454. Malagasy, 690. Namaquas,
277. Shooas, 629. Watusi, 409.
CEREMONIES, connected with
Accession of son, Damaras, 314. Battle, before and after, New
Zealand, 851. Becoming men, Australians, 761-764. Birth, Abyssinians,
658. Fijians, 954, New Zealanders, 816. Burial of King, Fijians, 967.
Cementing friendship, Balondos, 378. Cooking war dish, Ashangos,
480. Coronation, Congoese, 616, Mpongwé, 527. Customs, Dahomans,
573. Death of King, Tongans, 993-994. Death and Mourning, Camma,
520. Drinking kava, Tongans, 985-990. Entering boyhood, Kaffirs, 18.
Fallen in war, Caledonians, New, 886. Feast of First Fruits, Tongans,
990-993. Funeral of Finow, Tongans, 998. Going to War, Bechuanas,
292. Head-worship, Dahomans, 587. Homage to Manono, Samoans, 1022.
Initiation of Cannibal, Malemutes, 1372. Kangaroo, Australians,
762. King, appearing before, Dahomans, 574. Making brotherhood,
Australians, 767, Araucanians, 1205. Marriage, Kaffirs, 86, Samoans,
1031, Sowrahs, 1386. M’paza, or twin, Ishogos, 479. Moon, full,
Camma, 510, Fans, 539. Moon, New, Karagne, 401, Mincopies, 895.
Mourning, Australians, 772. Ox of the Girl, Kaffirs, 86. Ox of the
Surplus, Kaffirs, 86. Receiving Guests, Waganda, 419. Reception into
“Mides,” N. A. Indians, 1310. Religious, Abyssinians, 658, Esquimaux,
1350. “Rupack,” Pelew Islanders, 1104. Sacrificial, Kaffirs, 172,
Society Islanders, 1075. Setting apart “piai” men, Guiana, 1263.
Shedding of blood, Dyaks, 1159. Sickness, Tongans, 998. Society of
hunters, Australians, 763. Sprinkling water, Dahomans, 588, New
Zealand, 817. Tow-tow, Tongans, 994-995. Visiting, Fijians, 940.
CHARMS among
Abyssinians, 665, 666. Angolese, 381. Apingi, 490. Australians, 771.
Bechuanas, 292. Dyaks, 1158. Fans, 539. Indians, N. A., 1313. Kaffir,
181-183. Karague, 402. Namaquas, 277. Nubians, 674. Waganda, 419.
Wanyoro, 428.
Charming serpents, India, 1416.
Cherokees, No. America, 1331.
Chickasaws, No. America, 1319.
CHILDREN, treatment of among
Andamaners, 892. Arawaks, 1247. Australians, 757, 758. Bakalai, 492.
Co-yukons, 1375. Esquimaux, 1349. Fijians, 954. Flat-heads, 1319,
1320. Indians, Gran Chaco, 1214. Indians, N. A., 1319. Ingeletes,
1375. Ishogo, 479. Kaffir, 16-18. Madi, 433. Mapuchés, 1192.
Outanatas, 901. Patagonians, 1186. Samoans, 1009. Wanyamuezi, 393.
Zealanders, New, 816, 817.
Chinese, China, 1426.
Chinnooks, No. America, 1319.
Choctaws, No. America, 1319.
Chopsticks, Chinese, 1431.
Christie’s sketch, Bosjesman, 266.
Chuanas, Africa, 280.
CLEANLINESS among
Abyssinians, 667. Bakalai, 492, 493. Esquimaux, 1333. Fuegians, 1168.
Kaffirs, 45. Madi, 430. Manganjas, 359. Ostiaks, 1384. Wanyamuezi,
393. Wanyoro, 422-426. Waraus, 1258. Watusi, 409.
Commi, Africa, 504.
COMPLEXION of
Abyssinians, 642. Ahitas, 290. Ahts, 1355. Angolese, 380. Apingi,
488. Australians, 694. Bakalai, 492. Balondo, 370. Batoka, 348.
Begharmis, 636. Bosjesmans, 243. Bouka, 971. Caledonians, New,
883. Camma, 505. Djibbas, 464. Dyaks, 1111. Egbas, 590. Esquimaux,
1333. Fans, 529. Fanti, 549. Fijians, 922. Fuegians, 1162. Gallas,
671. Hebrides, New, 972. Hervey Islanders, 1032. Hottentots, 217.
Hovas, 690. Indians, Gran Chaco, 1211. Indians, N. Am. 1273.
Isle of Pines Men, 887. Japanese, 1449. Karague, 399. Kingsmill
Islanders, 1038. Krumen, 545. Makololo, 327. Marquesans, 1047.
Mundurucús, 1215. Neam-Nam, 442. Nicobarians, 896. Nubians, 673.
Obongos, 482. Outanatas, 900. Papuans, 898. Patagonians, 1172. Pelew
Islanders, 1104. Samoans, 1008. Sandwich Islanders, 1081. Shekiani,
522. Siamese, 1468. Solomon Islanders, 968. Tahitans, 1058. Tanna
Islanders, 972. Tongans, 977. Vaté Islanders, 972. Waraus, 1222.
Zealanders, New, 792.
Congoese, Africa, 614.
Cooking, see Food.
Cook’s Islanders, Polynesia, 1032.
Co-yukons, Alaska, 1375.
Cree tribe, North America, 1313.
Creeks, North America, 1331.
Crow tribe, North America, 1273.
“Crowing” of Damaras, 310.
Crucifixion, Chinese, 1439.
Crucifixion, Japanese, 1461.
CRUELTY to aged among
Fijians, 954. Indians, 1320. Namaquas, 278. To prisoners, Fijians,
954.
Customs, Dahome, 573.
CUSTOMS, curious, of
Alfoërs, 906. Araucanians, 1205. Ashanti, Yam and Adai, 559.
Caledonians, New, 887. Dyaks, 1136. Fijians, Loloku of the sail, 967.
Guianans, 1247. Hervey Islanders, 1034. Kanemboos, 627. Kingsmill
Islanders, 1040. Marquesans, 1049. Obongos, domestic, 482. Ovambos,
at meals, 322. Tahitans, 1061. Tchuktchi, 1378. Tongans, 982.
D.
Dacotahs, North America, 1307.
Dahomans, Africa, 561.
Damaras, Africa, 304.
Dancing, see Amusements.
DANCES of
Ahts, doctor’s nook, 1366, roof, 1366. Apono, giant, 487. Arawaks,
puris, 1252. Australians, kuri, 748, palti, 752, kangaroo, 752,
pedeku, 751, frog, 751, corrobboree, 752. Bechuanas, 297. Bosjesmans,
262. Camma, gorilla, 509. Damaras, 313. Dyaks, sword, 1143, war,
1143, head, 1143. Esquimaux, 1349. Fans, full moon, 539. Fijians,
955. Guianans, maquarri, 1255. Hottentots, melon, 235. Indians, N.
A., scalp, 1286, buffalo, 1297, ball-play, 1320, pipe, 1320, beggar’s
bear, 1320, dog, 1320, eagle, 1323, braves, 1323, green corn, 1323,
snow-shoe, 1323, slave, 1323. Kaffir, wedding, 55. Korannas, 270.
Latookas, funeral, 459. Madi, 433. Malemutes, 1374. Marquesans, 1049.
New Guinea, war, 917. New Zealand, war, 845. Niuans, war, 1055. Pelew
Islanders, 1108. Samoans, wedding, 1031. Shooas, 668. Tasmanians,
753. Tungusi, 1380. Wanyamuezi, 390. Watusi, 409.
Dankallis, Africa, 671.
Delawares, North America, 1331.
Dingan, Kaffir chief, visit to, 91.
Dingan at home, 207.
Dinkas, Africa, 469.
Djibba, Africa, 464.
Djour, Africa, 448.
Dog eater, initiation of, Ahts, 1371.
Dôr, Africa, 444.
Dory, Africa, 914.
DRESS among
Abyssinians, 642-647. Accawaios, 1222. Admiralty Islanders, 970.
Ahts, 1355. Andamaners, 889. Apingi, 489. Apono, 484. Ashango, 480.
Ashanti, 554. Ashira, 496. Australians, 699-705. Bakalai, 492.
Balonda, 370. Bari, 463, 464. Batoka, 348. Bayeye, 339. Bechuanas,
284. Bedouins, 681. Bonny, 603. Bornabi, 1103. Bornuese, 621.
Bosjesmans, 246. Bouka, 971. Britain, New, 969. Brumer’s Islanders,
907. Bubes, 610. Caledonians, New, 883. Caribs, 1222. Chinese, 1429.
Congoese, 616. Co-yukons, 1375. Dahomans, 568. Damaras, 306. Dinkas,
469. Djibbas, 467. Dor, 447. Dory, 914. Dyaks, 1112-1116-1118. Egbas,
591. Esquimaux, 1334. Fans, 529. Fanti, 549. Fijians, 926-928.
Fuegians, 1162. Gallas, 671. Gani, 430. Guianans, 1256-1258.
Hebrides, New, 972. Hervey Islanders, 1032. Hottentots, 222. Hovas,
690. Indians, Gran Chaco, 1212. Indians, North America, 1275, 1276.
Ireland, New, 969. Ishogos, 479. Isle of Pines Men, 887. Japanese,
kami-samo, 1449-1453. Kaffirs, 28-51, 53, change of on betrothal,
Kaffir, 51. Kanemboos, 627. Karague, 405. Khonds, 1389. Kingsmill
Islanders, 1038. Korannas, 270. Krumen, 545. Kytch, 436. Latookas,
453. Madi, 430-433. Makoba, 339. Makololo, 327. Malagasy, 690.
Malemutes, 1374. Manganja, 356. Mapuchés, 1190-1191. Marquesans,
1044. Mpongwé, 524. Musguese, 639. Namaquas, 275. Neam-Nam, 442.
Nicobarians, 896. Niuans, 1055. Nubians, 673. Nuehr, 468. Obbo,
434. Obongos, 482. Outanatas, 900. Ovambos, 316. Papuans, 900.
Patagonians, 1173. Pelew Islanders, 1104. Romanzoff Islanders, 1100.
Samoans, 1009, 1013, 1014. Samoïedes, 1383. Sandwich Islanders,
1081. Shillooks, 472. Shir, 461. Shooas, 630. Siamese, 1468. Solomon
Islanders, 969. Soumaulis, 672. Sowrahs, 1386. Tahitans, 1059.
Tibboos, 630. Tongans, gnatoo, 977. Tuaricks, 634. Vaté Islanders,
972. Wagogo, 385. Wanyamuezi, 386. Waraus, 1269. Wasagara, 407.
Watusi, 408. Wazaramo, 406. Zealanders, New, 807-813.
DRINKS, intoxicating, of
Abyssinia, 657. Apingi, 490. Apono, 484. Ashira, 498. Araucanians,
1203. Balonda, 377. Chinese, 1429. Congoese, 616. Dyaks, 1145. Fans,
539. Guianans, 1251. Kaffir, 152. Karague, 400, 401. Krumen, 546.
Manganja, 359. Wanyamuezi 393, 394. Waraus, 1269.
Dust signals of Outanatas, 902.
Dutulu, adventures of, 69.
Dyaks, Land, Borneo, 1110.
Dyaks, Sea, 1110.
E.
Eastern Islands, 1100.
Economy of Chinese, 1443.
Egbas, Africa, 590.
Elephant catching, Bayeye, 338.
Elephant, white, Siam, 1471.
Endurance, see Strength.
Errumanga, New Hebrides, 975.
Esquimaux, N. America, 1333.
ETIQUETTE among
Abyssinians, 657. Ashiras, 498. Araucanians, 1205. Balonda. 377.
Batokas, 350. Bonny, 601. Cammas, 505-509. Dahomans, 566, 585.
Fijians, 940, 941. Japanese, 1459. Kaffir, 87, 148, 160. Makololo,
326. Maories, 824, 850. Mapuchés, 1193. Samoans, 1009. Siamese, 1471.
Tahitans, 1069. Waganda, 410. Wanyanmuezi, 389. Waraus, 1261. Watusi,
408.
Europe, Ancient, 1473.
F.
Fans, Africa, 529.
Fans, Chinese, 1430.
Fans, war, Japanese, 1461.
Fanti, Africa, 548.
FEASTS of
Abyssinians, raw flesh, 656. Abyssinians, wedding, 658. Ahts, 1364.
Arawaks, piwarri, 1252. Chinese, of lanterns, 1431. Fans, marriage,
536. Fijians, given to gods, 942. Fuegians, 1167. Indians, N. A.,
dog, 1330. Kaffir, first fruits, 172. Malemutes, 1374. Samoans,
wedding, 1031. Waikato, hui, 827.
Feet of women, Chinese, 1428.
Female soldiers, Dahomans, 567.
Fetishes, Ashanti, 559.
Fijians, Australia, 922.
FIRE-MAKING
among Australians, 786. Dyaks, 1151. Fuegians, 1168. Kaffir, 100.
FISHING among
Ahts, 1356-1361. Australians, 710, 728. Badema, with nets, 367.
Balonda, 377. Bayeye, 388. Chinese, with cormorants, 1444. Dyaks,
1118, 1132. Esquimaux, 1343. Fijians, turtle, 931. Fuegians, 1166.
Guinea, New, 913. Hervey Islanders, 1037. Kanemboos, 627. Malemutes,
whale, 1361, salmon, 1360. Maories, 830-833. Marquesans, 1051.
Ostiaks, 1384. Ovambo, 320. Samoans, 1026. Sandwich Islanders, 1086.
Shillooks, 472.
Flat Heads, N. America, 1319.
FOOD of, and modes of eating among
Abyssinians, 655. Ahts, 1364. Andamaners, 891. Angolese, manioc,
381. Araucanians, 1200. Ashira, 497. Australians, turtle and snakes,
702-714. Bakalai, 492. Balonda, manioc, 376. Banyai, 366. Bechuanas,
296. Bedouins, 684. Bosjesmans, 252. Caledonians, New, 885. Chinese,
bird-nests, 1432. Damaras, 313. Dyaks, 1118-1144. Esquimaux, 1336,
special dainties, 1337. Fans, 534. Fijians, 941, 942. Fuegians, 1166,
1168. Guianans, 1248, 1249. Hervey Islanders, 1037. Hottentots, 232,
233. Kaffir, 131, 132, 147-151, 157. Kytch, 439. Makololo, 326.
Mandingoes, 608. Maories, 827-834. Mpongwé, 524. Mundurucús, 1220.
Neam-Nam, 442. Ovambo, 322. Patagonians, 1185. Samoans, palolo, 1030,
1031. Sandwich Islanders, 1086. Shir tribe, 462. Shoas, 668. Swiss
Lake-dwellers, 1474. Tungusi, 1380. Wanyamuezi, 394. Wanyoro, 426.
Waraus, 1269.
Form of women, Hottentots, 218.
Fox tribe, N. America, 1323.
Fuegians, Tierra del Fuego, 1161.
Funerals, see Burial.
FURNITURE,
Japanese, 1462. Kaffir, 206. See Architecture.
G.
Gallas, Africa, 671.
GAMES of
Abyssinians, the ladies, 653. Araucanians, pelican, 1204. Avas,
1204. Dyaks, 1141-1143. Fijians, 954. Indians, N. A., archery, 1285,
chung-chee, 1324, al-kol-lock, 1324, pagessan, or bowl, 1324, ball,
1324, leaping rock, 1329. Japanese, children’s, 1462. Japanese mall,
1454, ladder balancing, 1456, top spinning, 1456, butterfly trick,
1456. Makololo, children’s, 332. New Zealand children’s, 818. Society
Islanders, children’s, 1095. Wanyamuezi, children’s, 393.
Gani, Africa, 429.
Ghou Damup, Africa, 304.
Ghoorkas, India, 1395.
Gilbert Islands, 1100.
Gold washing, Ashanti, 555.
Gonaquas, Africa, 274.
Goura, musical instrument, Bosjesmans, 264.
GOVERNMENT, mode of among
Abyssinians, 649. Ajitas, 920. Alfoërs, 905. Angolese, 380. Balonda,
369. Banyai, 361. Bechuanas, 286. Bornuese, 621. Camina, 504-506.
Dory, 914. Fijians, 934. Fuegians, 1171. Indians, N. A., 1275.
Kingsmill Islanders, 1040. Krumen, 546. Makololo, 331. Manganja, 355.
Mapuchés, 1194. Mpongwé, 524. Ovambo, 321. Shekiani, 521. Shillooks,
473. Tasmanians, 754. Tongans, 981. Wanyoro, 422.
GOZA’S
Portrait, 35. Young Warriors, 35. And his Wives, 75.
Grapple plant, 214.
Griquas, Africa, 274.
Guiana, So. America, 1221.
Guinea, New, Africa, 898.
H.
HAIR-DRESSING, mode of among
Abyssinians, 642-648. Ahts, 1355. Australians, 705. Balonda, 370.
Batoka, 348. Bornuese, 620. Brumer’s Islanders, 907. Chinese 1426.
Egbas, 590. Esquimaux, 1335. Fanti, 549. Fijians, 922, 925. Fuegians,
1162. Gallas, 671. Gani, queue, 430. Hovas, 690. Indians, Gran Chaco,
1212. Indians, N. A., 1273, 1274. Ishogos, 475. Japanese, 1450-1453.
Khonds, 1389. Krumen, 545. Mandans, 1274, 1275. Mapuchés, 1191.
Musguese, 639. Niuans, 1055. Nubians, 674. Papuans, 898. Samoans,
1014. Sandwich Islanders, 1085. Siamese, 1468. Soumaulis, 672.
Sowrahs, 1386. Tahitans, 1059. Zealanders, New, 814.
Hamoa, Navigator’s Island, 1008.
Hamran Arabs, Africa, 675.
Haraforas, New Guinea, 905.
Hara-kiri, Japan, 1461.
Harem of Kaffir, 76.
Hassaniyehs, Africa, 686.
HEAD-DRESSES of
Ahts, 1365. Fijians, waterproof, 926. Guianans, feather, 1255.
Indians, N. A., 1276. Ishogos, 475. Kaffir, 41. Mapuchés, 1191.
Marquesans, 1048. Samoans, 1013.
Head hunting, Dyaks, 1135.
Hebrides, New, Polynesia, 971.
Hervey Islands, Polynesia, 1032.
Hindoo’s, India, 1395.
HONESTY of the
Apono, 484. Ashira, 497. Australians, 695, 696. Barea, 668. Bayeye,
337. Bechuanas, 284, 285. Caledonians, New, 886. Esquimaux, 1351.
Indians, East, 1399, 1400. Krumen, 546. Latookas, 459. Makoba,
339. Makololo, 326. Outanatas, 902. Ovambos, 315. Samoans, 1008.
Shillooks, 473. Society Islanders, 1065. Tuaricks, 634.
Hopo, the elephant trap, 895.
HORSES of
Indians, N. A., 1296, 1297.
HORSEMANSHIP of
Araucanians, 1196. Camanchees, 1289, 1290. Crows, 1274. Hamran
Arabs, 676. Indians, Gran Chaco, 1212. Indians, North America, 1325.
Japanese, 1454, 1455. Patagonians, 1174.
HOSPITALITY of
Abyssinians, 655. Ajitas, 920. Apingi, 490. Batoka, 353. Esquimaux,
1351. Fuegians, 1171. Gani, 429. Ishogos, 480. Jakuts, 1379. Kaffir,
16. Makololo, 326. Manganja, 355. Maories, 827. Samoans, 1008. Shoas,
667. Shooas, 629. Tahitans, 1060. Tchuktchi, 1378. Wazaramo, 406.
Zealand, New, 826.
Hottentots, Africa, 217.
Hovas, Africa, 690.
Huili-chés, South America, 1190.
HUNTING among
Ahts, deer, 1355. Araucanians, 1198. Ashira, 502. Australians,
717-725. Badema, with nets, 367. Batoka, 353. Banyai, hippopotamus
and elephant, 362-365. Bayeye, 338. Bosjesmans, ostrich, 252-253.
Camma, 509. Dahomans, 571. Dinkas, 470. Dor, 444-446. Dyaks,
1131-1133. Esquimaux, seal, deer, fox, wolf, bear, 1338-1344. Fans,
elephant, gorilla, 533-542. Ghoorkas, 1396. Guianans, 1223-1270.
Hamran Arabs, elephant, lion, hippopotamus, buffalo, 675-677.
Hottentots, 231. Indians, North America, buffalo, 1293-1296. Indians,
Asia, elephant, deer, 1418. Kaffir, antelope, giraffe, elephant,
rhinoceros, lion, buffalo, 126-138. Kanemboos, 627. Makoba, 341.
Neam-Nam, elephant, 443. Ostiaks, 1384. Patagonians, 1178-1182.
Samoans, 1029. Samoïedes, 1383. Shooas, buffalo, elephant, 628.
Tasmanians, 753. Tungusi, 1379.
I.
Illinoans, Borneo, 1112.
India, Asia, 1395.
Indians, Gran Chaco, 1211.
Indians, North American, 1273.
INDUSTRY of
Bubes, 610. Congoese, 616. Dyaks, 1118. Fanti, 548. Guianans, 1222.
Manganja, 355. Ostiaks, 1384. Ovambo, 319. Watusi, 409. Zealanders,
New, 826.
Ingeletes, Alaska, N. A., 1374.
Ireland, New, Australasia, 969.
Ishogos, Africa, 475.
Isi-baya, of Kaffir, 66.
Isle of Pines Men, 887.
Issikoko, or head ring, Kaffir, 41.
J.
Japanese, Japan, 1449.
Jakuts, Siberia, Asia, 1379.
Jukahiri, Siberia, Asia, 1377.
K.
KAFFIR, AFRICA, 11.
Chivalry of, 42. Picturesque aspect of, 42. Perfume of, 42.
Gallantry, 55. Ostentation, 59. Harem, inmates, etc., 62. Dread of
death, 76. Law of inheritance, 78. Courtship, 79. Names, mode of
choosing, 88, 89. Boaster, fate of, 89. Love of Justice, 149. Love of
honey, 154. Fondness for tobacco, 166. Torture for bewitching, 185.
Sleeping accommodations, 206.
Kanemboos, Africa, 627.
Karague, 399.
KATCHIBA,
Chief of Obbo, 434. His family, 435. His character, 435. His palace,
435. Treatment of guests, 435.
Katema, the Balonda Chief, 376.
Kaveaks, Siberia, 1375.
Kingsmill Islanders, Polynesia, 1038.
Knob kerry of Kaffir, 106.
Kona’s Illness and its results, 185.
Kora, Africa, 269.
Korannas, Africa, 269.
Koraquas, Africa, 269.
Kraal of Kaffir, 54.
Krumen, Africa, 544.
Kytch, Africa, 436.
L.
LANGUAGE of
Ajitas, 921. Bosjesmans, “clicks,” 242. Fijians, court, 939.
Fuegians, 1171. Hottentots, “clicks,” 234. Ingeletes, 1375. Kaveaks,
1375. Malemutes, 1375. Mandingoes, 607. New Zealand, sacred, 857.
Siamese, 1471.
Lanterns, Chinese, 1430.
Lasso, Araucanians, 1197.
Lasso, North Am. Indians, 1296.
Latookas, Africa, 453.
LAWS, code of among
Abyssinians, 653. Alfoërs, 906. Australians, 747. In Britain, New,
969. Fiji, 935. Ireland, New, 969. Karague, 405. Makololo, 331.
Niuans, 1056. Samoans, 1016-1024. Siamese, 1471. Waganda, 410.
Zealanders, New, 798.
LEGENDS of
Apono, 488. Areois, 1080. Balonda, 379. Bubes, 610. Chinese, 1429.
Fanti, 549. Fijians, 934. Guianans, 1264-1267. Indians, N. A., 1313.
Kaffirs, 141, 169. Mandans, 1301. Maories, 858. Namaquas, 276. New
Zealanders, 829. Niuans, 1052. Society Islanders, 1065.
LIFE, human, value of, among
Bechuanas, 285. Dahomans, 567, 579. Fans, 539. Tenacity of among
Hottentots, 240. Waganda, 413.
Lloyd’s account of Australians, 789.
M.
Macoushies, Guiana, S. A., 1221.
Madagascar, Africa, 690.
Madi, Africa, 430.
Mah-to-toh-pa, exploits of, 1286, 1287.
Makoba, Africa, 339.
Makololo, Africa, 324.
Malagasy, Africa, 690.
Malays, Malaisia, 920.
Malemutes, Alaska, N. A., 1374.
Malicolo, New Hebrides, 975.
Mandans, N. America, 1301.
Mandingoes, Africa, 607.
Manenko in command, Balondo, 375.
Manganjas, Africa, 355.
Mantatees, Africa, 286.
Mantchu Tartars, Tartary, 1422.
MANUFACTURES, skill in among
Ahts, 1355. Apingi, 489. Araucanians, 1205. Arawaks, 1233-1235.
Australians, 726. Banyai, 366, 367. Bechuanas, 280-283. Djour, 451.
Dyaks, 1151-1156. Esquimaux, 1349. Fans, 532. Fijians, 929-931.
Guinea, New, 914. Hervey Islanders, 1033. Hottentots, 226, 228.
Kaffirs, 45-47, 95-99, 148-154, 206-212. Latookas, 455. Macoushies,
1221. Maories, 880. Mpongwé, 528. Samoans, 1015. Shir, 462. Swiss
Lake-dwellers, 1474. Tongans, 977.
Maories, New Zealand, 824.
Mapuchés, So. America, 1190.
Mara-chés, So. America, 1190.
Marksmen of Arawaks, 1235.
Marquesas Islands, 1044.
MARRIAGE among
Abyssinians, 658. Ajitas, 921. Alfoërs, 906. Andamaners, 888, 892.
Angolese, 382. Apingi, 489. Araucanians, abduction of bride, 1199,
1200. Arawaks, 1247. Australians, 755. Banyai, 362. Bornuese, 626.
Bosjesmans, 244. Bubés, 613. Dahomans, 586. Damaras, 313. Dory,
917. Dyaks, 1137-1141. Esquimaux, 1349. Fans, 536. Fijians, 955.
The Fijian bride, 956. Among Ghoorkas, carrying off bride, 1394.
Hassaniyeh, 686. Hottentots, 233. Indians, N. A., 1316. Ingeletes,
1375. Kaffirs, bridegroom on approval, 77-87. In Karague, 402.
Among Krumen, earning wives, 546, 547. Kytch, 439. Makololo, 328.
Mandingoes, 608. Namaquas, 277. Obongos, 482. Ostiaks, 1385. Ovambos,
322. Patagonians, 1183. Samoans, 1031. Samoïedes, 1383. Sowrahs,
1386. Tungusi, 1380. Waganda, 413, 414. Zealanders, New, 818.
Marshall Islanders, 1100.
Mbondemo, Africa, 521.
Mbicho, Africa, 521.
Mbousha, Africa, 521.
Medicine, see Treatment of Sick.
Medicine bag, N. A. Indians, 1308.
MEDICINE MEN, of
Ahts, 1371. N. A. Indians, 1307-1309. Kaffirs, 17.
Mendana Islands, 1044.
Mexico, North America, 1271.
Minatarees, North America, 1274.
Mincopie girls, 895.
Mincopies, Andaman Islands, 889.
Mirage, notions of Hassaniyeh, 688.
Mirror Ink of Hassaniyeh, 689.
Mnande’s burial, 202.
Moheenda, Africa, 399.
Mongolians, Asia, 1422.
Monkey Men, New Guinea, 900.
MOURNING among
Abyssinians, 659. Australians, 772. Australians, widow’s cap,
777. Bakalai, “keen,” 495. Camma, 520. Damaras, 314. Dyaks, 1160.
Esquimaux, 1351. Fijians, 967. Flat-heads, mourning cradle, 1320.
Indians, N. A., 1329. Mpongwé, 524. New Zealand, tangi, 869.
Mpongwé, Africa, 524.
Muchlahts, Vancouver’s Island, 1354.
Mumbo Jumbo, of Bonny, 603.
Mundurucús, S. America, 1215.
Musguese, Africa, 639.
MUSIC of
Balonda, 375. Bosjesman, 263-265. Chinese, 1446. Damaras, 313.
Kaffirs, 208. Korannas, 273.
MUSICAL Instruments of
Abyssinians, 660. Balonda, 375. Batoka, 353. Bechuanas, 297.
Bosjesmans, goura, guitar, drum, 264-265. Camma, 509. Chinese,
1445. Dor, 448. Dory, 917. Esquimaux, 1351. Fans, 540. Guianans,
1264. Indians, N. A., 1330. Kaffirs, 55, 208-211. In Karague, 405.
Among Latookas, 459-460. Madi, 433. Malagasy, 693. Shillooks, 474.
Tahitans, 1062. Zealanders, New, 822.
N.
Namaquas, Africa, 274.
NAMES among
Araucanians, exchanging of, 1209. Bosjesmans, 244. Kaffirs, mode of
choosing, 88, praise and birth, 89. Krumen, 546. Maganjas, changing,
360. New Zealanders, signification of, and changing, 817.
Neam-Nam, Africa, 440.
Necklace, talismanic, Kaffir, 199.
Negritos, Philippine Islands, 920.
New Britain, Australasia, 969.
New Caledonia, Australasia, 883.
New Guinea, Africa, 898.
New Hebrides, Polynesia, 971.
New Ireland, Australasia, 969.
New Zealand, Australasia, 792.
Nga-te-kahuhuna, New Zealand, 796.
Nicobarians, Nicobar Islands, 896.
Niué, Polynesia, 1052.
North American Indians, 1273.
Nubia, Africa, 673.
Nuehr tribe, Africa, 468.
O.
Obbo, Africa, 434.
Obongos, Africa, 482.
Oerlams, Africa, 274.
Ohyahts, Vancouver’s Island, 1354.
Ojibbeways, North America, 1329.
Omens, see Superstitions.
ORDEALS of the
Angolese, 382. Ashira, the ring, 502. Batoka, 353. Bechuanas, boys,
292, for girls, 295. Camma, drinking m’boundou, 515. Caribs, 1240.
Conguese, drinking poison, 615. Dacotahs, medicine men, 1307. Dyaks,
diving, 1159, boiling water, 1159, salt, 1159, snails, 1159. Mandans,
on reaching manhood, 1301, suspension, 1303, last race, 1304.
Mundurucús, of gloves, 1216.
Order of the Scar, Bechuanas, 289.
ORNAMENTS of
Abyssinians, 646, 647. Admiralty Islanders, 970. Ahts, lip, 1355.
Araucanians, 1197. Ashango, 481. Ashanti, 555. Australians,
dibbi-dibbi nose-bone, turtle scar, 703, 704. Balonda, 373. Bayeye,
339. Bechuanas, 284. Bedouins, 683. Bornabi, 1103. Bosjesmans, 249.
Caledonians, New, 883. Co-yukons, nose, 1375. Damaras, 306. Dinkas,
470. Djibba, scalp-lock, 467. Djour, 451. Dor, lip, 447. Dyaks,
earrings, etc., 1111-1117. Egbas, 591. Fanti, 549. Fijians, 926.
Fuegians, 1165. Gani, 430. Ghoorkas, 1399. Hebrides, New, 972. Hervey
Islanders, 1033. Hottentots, 225. Indians, N. A., wampum, 1280, 1329.
Isle of Pines Men, 887. Japanese, hair-pins, 1453. Kaffirs, 33-55,
198. Kanemboos, 627. Kaveak, 1374. Khonds, 1389. Latookas, lips, 453,
454. Madi, 433. Makololo, 327. Malemutes, to-took, 1374. Manganjas,
356. Mapuchés, breast-pin, 1191. Marquesans, 1048. Mpongwé, 524.
Musguese, lip, 639. Namaquas, 275. Neam-Nam, 442. Nubians, 674.
Nuehr, 468. Obbo, 434. Outanatas, 901. Ovambos, 316. Pelew Islanders,
bone bracelet, 1104. Romanzoff Islanders, 1100. Sandwich Islanders,
1082. Shillooks, 472. Shir, 462. Solomon Islanders, 969. Sowrahs,
necklaces, 1386. Swiss Lake-dwellers, 1474. Tongans, whales’ teeth,
978. Tungusi, 1379. Vaté Islanders, 972. Wagogo, 385. Wanyamuezi,
“sambo” rings, 386. Watusi, 409. Wazaramo, 406. Zealanders, New, 813,
814.
Ostiaks, Siberia, Asia, 1384.
Otaheitans, Society Islands, 1058.
Outanatas, New Guinea, 900.
Ovaherero, Africa, 315.
Ovambos, Africa, 315.
Ovampos, Africa, 315.
Ovaquangari, Africa, 320.
Ovat-jumba, Africa, 305.
Oyos, Africa, 566.
Ox of the girl, Kaffirs, 86.
Ox of the surplus, Kaffirs, 86.
P.
PAIN, indifference to of the
Bosjesmans, 250. Damaras, 306. Guianans, 1254.
Panda, song in honor of, 89.
Papuans, New Guinea, 898.
Pasuen, Africa, 529.
Patagonians, South America, 1172.
Patagonians, life among, 1184.
Pehuen-chés, So. America, 1190.
Pelele, or lip ring, Manganjas, 359.
Pelew Islands, 1104.
PENALTIES or PUNISHMENTS among
Caribs, 1241. Chinese, cangue, 1436, finger-squeezing, 1436,
beating with bamboo, 1436, strangulation, 1439, crucifixion, 1439,
decapitation, 1440, cutting into pieces, 1440, sawn asunder, 1440.
Japanese, crucifixion, 1461, hara-kiri, 1461. Patagonians, 1186.
Niuans, 1056. Samoans, beating in sacks, 1023. Siamese, 1471.
PIPES of
Australians, 701. Bosjesmans, 244. Chinese, 1442. Co-yukons, 1377.
Crees, calumet, 1313. Japanese, 1462. Kaffirs, 163-166. Malemutes,
1370. See Smoking.
POISON
upon arrows of Ajitas, 920. Araucanians, 1229-1236. Bosjesmans, 260.
Mundurucús, 1234. In wells, Bosjesmans, 261. Drank by Mr. Moffat,
261, grub, the N’gwa, 258, hyarri, Mundurucús, 1234, upas, Dyaks,
1120, wourali, 1228.
Poison grub, the N’gwa, 258. Wourali, 1228.
POLITENESS of
Batokas, 350. Bedouins, 683. In Karague, 399. Of Tchuktchi, 1378.
Watusi, 409.
POLYGAMY among
Australians, 755. Bornuese, 626. Egbas, 593. Fijians, 935. Guianans,
1246, 1247. Hottentots, 233. Ingeletes, 1375. Kaffirs, 75, 76.
Makololo, 328. Niuans, 1056. Shillooks, 473. Tchuktchi, 1378.
Ponda, Africa, 12.
Porcelain, Japanese, 1465.
Pritchard’s adventure with wild boar, 1029.
Prophetess, Kaffir, 189.
PROPHETS, among
Kaffirs, 175-180, 186-189, 195. Preparation of, 176. Consultation of,
180. Curing sickness, Bechuanas, 292. False, 190.
R.
RACES, causes of, and reflections upon decay and extinction of
Australians, 790, 791. Esquimaux, 1353. New Zealanders, 880. N. Am.
Indians, 1331, 1332.
RAIN-MAKING among
Kaffirs, 126, 192-194. Namaquas, 277.
Rangitani, New Zealand, 796.
RANK, distinction of among
Bosjesmans, 244. Japanese, 1459. Pelew Islanders, 1104. Tahitans,
1061.
RELIGION of
Abyssinians, 660-664. Ahts, 1370. Ajitas, 921. Angolese, 332.
Apingi, 490. Apono, 488. Araucanians, 1209. Ashangos, 481. Ashanti,
559. Ashira, 501. Australians, 778. Bakalai, 494. Balonda, 379.
Banyai, 367. Batokas, 353. Bechaunas, 291. Bedouins, 685. Britain,
New, 970. Bornuese, 625. Cammas, 510. Congoese, 615. Dahomans, 562,
586. Damaras, 314. Dyaks, 1110, 1157. Egbas, 594. Esquimaux, 1349.
Fans, 539. Fanti, 550. Fijians, 960-964. Fuegians, 1171. Guianans,
1263. Hervey Islanders, 1037. Hottentots, 234. Indians, East, 1407.
Indians, N. A., 1301, 1313. Ireland, New, 970. Kaffirs, 169-171.
Krumen, 547. Malagasy, 693. Mandingoes, 607. Manganjas, 360. Maories,
856-858. Namaquas, 276. Ovambos, 322. Patagonians, 1186. Pelew
Islanders, 1108. Samoïedes, 1381. Sandwich Islanders, 1096. Siamese,
1471. Society Islanders, 1064-1071. Tongans, 1004. Tungusi, 1380.
Waganda, 420. Wanyamuezi, 395. Wanyoro, 427. Wazaramo, 406.
Rewards, honorary, Chinese, 1441.
Riccarees, N. America, 1319.
Rob Roy, a Kaffir, 69.
Romanzoff Island, 1100.
S.
SACRIFICES among
Araucanians, 1209. Ashanti, instruments of, 559. Co-yukons, 1376.
Dahomans, 578-582. In India, suttee, 1407-1410, sacred noose, 1411,
juggernaut, 1411, drowning in Ganges, 1413, beasts substituted for
human, 1413. Indians, N. A., 1309, 1314. Kaffirs, animal, 171, 172.
Khonds, “meriah,” 1389-1392. Samoïedes, 1382. Society Islanders,
1074. Sowrahs, 1389. Tahitans, 1075. Tongans, 997-1001. Waganda, 420.
Sacs, N. America, 1323.
SALUTATION, mode of, among
Ashira, 498. Balonda, 373. Brumer’s Islanders, 907. Egbas, 591.
Esquimaux, 1349. Gani, 429. Hassaniyeh, 686. In Karague, 399. Among
Makololo, 326. Manganjas, 356. Nuehr, 469. Ovambo, 322. Wanyamuezi,
389. Watusi, 409. Zealanders, New, 823.
Samoans, Polynesia, 1008.
Samoïedes, Siberia, 1381.
San Christoval, Solomon Islands, 970.
Sandal wood, Aneiteum, 975.
Sandwich Islands, 1081.
Saqua, Africa, 251.
Savage Island, 1052.
Scalping, mode of, 1285, 1286.
Sea Dyaks, Borneo, 1110.
Sechuanas, Africa, 280.
Senecas, N. America, 1288.
Shekiani, Africa, 521.
Shields of Kaffirs, 108.
Shillooks, Africa, 472.
Shir, Africa, 461.
Shoas, Africa, 667.
Shooas, Africa, 628.
Siam, Asia, 1467.
SICK, treatment of among
Angolese, 381. Araucanians, 1205. Ashira, 501. Australians, 769-771.
Damaras, 205. Hottentots, 233-240. Kaffirs, 183, 184, 190. Korannas,
274. Makoba, 347. Makololo, 336. Maories, 862. Mundurucús, 1219.
Namaquas, 277. Patagonians, 1184. Tongans, 997. Tuaricks, 634.
Sickness, theory of, Angolese, 382.
Silks of Japanese, 1466.
Singing, see Amusements.
Sioux, N. America, 1274.
SLAVERY among
Ashira, 501. Dory, 914. Gallas, 671. Malagasy, 693. Musguese, 639.
Zealanders, New, 797.
Sledges, of Esquimaux, 1345.
Sleep, power of, Hottentot, 233.
SMOKING among
Ahts, 1370. Ashira, 501. Australians, 701. Batokas, 350. Bayeye,
hemp, 339. Bosjesmans, 244, 262. Chinese, opium, 1441. Crees,
calumet, 1313. Damaras, hemp or dagha, 165. Dor, “bark quids,” 452.
Djours, 452. Indians, N. A., 1313. Japanese, 1462. Kaffirs, 163-166.
Makololo, 336. Mundurucús, “enchanted” cigars, 1219. Patagonians,
1183. Tchutkchi, 1377. Wanyamuezi, 393.
“Smoking horses,” Indians, 1290.
Snake Worship, Dahomans, 565.
Snake cooking and eating, Australians, 717.
Snake charming, India, 1416.
Snow-shoes of N. A. Indians, 1294, 1295.
Snuff boxes, Kaffir, 161.
Snuff taking, Kaffir, 159.
Society Islands, 1057.
Solomon Islands, 968.
SONGS,
Esquimaux, amna-aya, 1349. Kaffir, war, 90, 147, 208. Makanna’s
gathering, 197. New Zealand, canoe, 853. New Zealand, tattoo, 802.
See Amusements.
Soumaulis, Abyssinia, 671.
Sowrahs, India, 1385.
STRENGTH of
Dyaks, 1115. Esquimaux, 1334. Fuegians, 1166. Waraus, 1261.
SUCCESSION, law of, among
Angolese, 380. Arawaks, 1247. Ashanti, 556. Fijians, 935. Indians, N.
A., 1275. In Karague, 400. Among Ovambos, 322. Waganda, 416.
SUPERSTITION among
Ahts, 1372. Angolese, 382. Apingi, 490. Arabs, 687-689. Araucanians,
1205. Ashangos, 481. Ashira, 502. Australians, 745, 778-783. Bakalai,
493. Banyai, 366. Bedouins, 685. Bonny, 604. Camma, 510-515. Caribs,
1241. Damaras, 314. Dyaks, 1131, 1157-1159. Egbas, 594. Esquimaux,
1350. Fans, 539. Fanti, 550. Fijians, 960-965. Guianans, 1264.
Kaffirs, 88, 172, 190, 191. Makoba, 346. Malagasy, 693. Mandingoes,
609. Maories, 856-858, 864. Pelew Islanders, 1108. Samoïedes, 1383.
Shekiani, 523. Society Islanders, 1079, 1080. Tahitans, 1058.
Tongans, 1007. Waganda, 419. Wanyamuezi, 395. Wanyoro, 427. Wazaramo,
406.
Swazi, Africa, 12.
SWIMMING among
Alfoërs, 911. Bosjesmans, 255. Indians, North America, 1330.
Marquesans, 1051. Sandwich Islanders, 1086, 1087, 1092. Tongans, 1006.
Swiss Lake-dwellers, 1473.
T.
Taboo of Banyai, 367.
Taboo, see Tapu.
Tahitans, Society Islands, 1058.
Tanna Island, New Hebrides, 972.
Taranakis, New Zealand, 850.
Tapu of Maories, 863-868.
Tartars, Mantchu, Asia, 1422.
Tasmanians, Van Dieman’s Land, 753.
TATTOOING among
Abyssinians, 648. Apingi, 489. Arawaks, 1222. Australians, 704.
Bedouins, 683. Bornabi, 1103. Bornuese, 620. Brumer’s Islanders,
907. Dahomans, 589 Dyaks, 1111, 1117. Egbas, 591. Esquimaux, 1334.
Fans, 530. Fijians, 926. In Guinea, New, 911. Among Japanese,
1450. Kingsmill Islanders, 1038. Manganjas, 359. Marquesans, 1044.
Mundurucús, 1215. Niuans, 1055. Pelew Islanders, 1104. Romanzoff
Islanders, 1100. Samoans, 1010-1013. Sandwich Islanders, 1085.
Soumaulis, 672. Tahitans, 1059. Wanyamuezi, 389. Watusi, 409.
Zealanders, New, 800, 806.
Tchaka, suspected of death of mother, 124.
Tchaka’s vision, Kaffir chief, 170.
Tchaka at funeral of mother, 202.
Tchuktchi, Siberia, 1377.
Tea of Chinese, 1432.
Tea houses, Japanese, 1464.
Te Ohie, a native priest, 857.
Theatres of Japanese, 1463.
Thieves of Ghoorkas, 1399, 1400.
Thugs of India, 1410.
Tibboos, Africa, 630.
Tigre, Africa, 667.
Tikis, New Zealand, 861.
TOBACCO among
Kaffirs, 159-162, 166. Mundurucús, snuff, paricu, 1220. New
Zealanders, 850.
Tools, see Manufactures.
Tongans, Polynesia, 976.
Toquahts, Vancouver’s Island, 1354.
TORTURE, modes of among
Chinese, 1436. Hindoos, 1414. N. A. Indians, 1288.
TRAINING by East Indians of
Antelopes, 1420, elephants, 1418, falcons, 1416, stags, 1420.
TRANSMIGRATION, belief in by
Australians, 780. Makoba, 346. Shekiani, 523.
TRAVELLING, mode of, Japan, 1455-1456.
TREES of
Africa, thorns, 213, grapple plant, 214, wait-a-bit, hook and prick,
and monkey ropes, 215. Aneiteum, sandal wood, 975. Australia, grass,
726. Borneo, nipa palm, 1150, Upas, Borneo, 1120. Guiana, ita palm,
1268. Hova, travellers, 693. Tierra del Fuego, Antarctic beech, 1167.
Tuaricks, Africa, 634.
Tungusi, Siberia, Asia, 1379.
U.
Uzaramo, Africa, 406.
Uzinto, adventures of, 80.
V.
Vancouver’s Island, N. A., 1354.
Vaté, New Hebrides, 972.
W.
Waganda, Africa, 410.
Wagogo, Africa, 384.
Wahuma, Africa, 399.
Waikatos, New Zealand, 850.
Wanganja, Africa, 355.
Wanyambo, Africa, 399.
Wanyamuezi, Africa, 386.
Wanyoro, Africa, 422.
War, see sacrifice, Songs, Warfare.
Waraus, Guiana, S. A., 1222.
WARFARE among
Araucanians, 1199. Ashangos, 480. Australians, 744, 745. Balonda,
378. Barea, 671. Bari, 462. Batoka, 354. Bechuanas, 289. Bedouins,
681, 684. Begharmis, 635. Bornuese, 622. Bosjesmans, 254.
Caledonians, New, 885. Camma, 506. Caribs, 1239, 1242. Chinese, 1433.
Congoese, 615. Dahomans, 567. Dinkas, 469. Djibbas, 467. Dor, 445.
Dory, 914. Dyaks, 1119, 1131-1135. Egbas, 593. Fans, 531. Fijians,
952, 953. Fuegians, 1165. Gallas, 671. Ghoorkas, 1396. Hervey
Islanders, 1034. Hottentots, 239. Illinoans, 1112. Indians, Gran
Chaco, 1213. Indians, N. A., 1281. Kaffirs, 19, 92, 113-125, 196-198.
Kingsmill Islanders, 1039. Latookas, 455, 456. Mantchu Tartars,
1422, 1423. Maories, 838, 846-850. Marquesans, 1050. Musguese,
640. Neam-Nam, 443. Nubians, 674. Pelew Islanders, 1107. Samoans,
1016-1020. Sandwich Islanders, 1091. Society Islanders, 1073.
Soumaulis, 671. Tibboos, 633. Tongans, 984, 985. Waganda, 414, 415.
Wagogo, 385. Wazaramo, 406. See Dances.
Waterton’s story of Arawaks, 1230.
Wasagara, Africa, 407.
Watusi, Africa, 408.
Watuta tribes, Africa, 402.
Wazaramo, Africa, 406.
WEAPONS of
Abyssinians, 646-647. Ahts, 1355. Ajitas, 920. Andamaners, 889.
Apono, 487. Araucanians, bolas, 1197. Ashangos, 480. Ashanti, 556.
Australians, throw stick, kangaroo rat, boomerang, 719-724, 728-743.
Balonda, 378. Banyai, axe, 366. Bari, 464. Bechuanas, 289. Bedouins,
681. Begharmis, 635. Bornuese, 623. Bosjesmans, 257, 261. Bouka,
971. Britain, New, 970. Caledonians, New, 884. Chinese, jingall,
cross-bow, 1433-1436. Congoese, 615. Dahomans, 561, 571. Damaras,
312. Dinkas, 469. Djibbas, 464. Dor, 444. Dyaks, sumpitan, or
blowgun, parang-ihlang, kris, 1119-1131. Esquimaux, harpoon, 1339.
Fans, 531. Fijians, 948-952. Fuegians, 1165. Ghoorkas, kookery, 1395.
Guianans, 1223-1236. Guinea, New, 913. Hamran Arabs, 675. Hebrides,
New, 972. Hervey Islanders, 1034. Hottentots, 232. Illinoans, 1112.
Indians, East, 1400-1406. Indians, Gran Chaco, armor, 1212. Indians,
N. A., tomahawk, 1282. Ireland, New, 970. Ishogos, 476. Japanese,
sword, 1459. Kaffirs, 93, 94, 100-113. Karague, 399. Khonds, axe,
1392. Kingsmill Islanders, 1039. Latookas, 453. Madi, 433. Mantchu
Tartars, bows, 1423. Maories, 838-844. Marquesans, 1050. Mincopies,
bow, 890. Musguese, 639. Neam-Nam, 443. Nicobarians, 896. Niuans,
1055. Nubians, peculiar sword, 673. Outanatas, 901. Ovambos, 319.
Papuans, 900. Patagonians, bolas, 1174-1178. Pelew Islanders,
1107. Samoans, 1019. Sandwich Islands, 1088. Shekiani, 521. Shir,
461. Society Islanders, 1073. Soumaulis, 671. Sowrahs, 1386. Swiss
Lake-dwellers, 1474. Tibboos, 633. Vaté, 972. Waraus, 1269.
Wedding, see Dances, Marriage.
Weezees, Africa, 386.
Western Islands, 1100.
WITCHCRAFT among
Araucanians, 1206. Ashanti, 560. Bakalai, 493. Camma, 515-520.
Caribs, 1241. Esquimaux, 1350. Fans, 539. Kaffirs, 184, 188. Maories,
861. Shekiani, 522. Waganda, 410. Wanyamuezi, 395.
WOMEN, condition of among
Angolese, 381. Ashira, 496. Australians, 695, 756. Banyai, 362.
Bonny, 603. Brumer’s Islanders, 908. Congoese, 616. Dahomans, 589.
Damaras, singular caps of married, 313. Dyaks, 1118. Fijians, 956.
Gani, 430. Guianans, 1246. Indians, Gran Chaco, 1214. Indians,
North America, 1319. Isle of Pines Men, 887. Kaffirs, 24-27, 90. In
Karague, 402. Among Latookas, 455. Makololo, 327. Musguese, 639.
Ostiaks, 1385. Patagonians, 1186. Samoans, 1014. Samoïedes, 1383.
Sandwich Islanders, 1082-1086. Shooas, 630. Tahitans, 1058. Tongans,
983. Waganda, 413. Wanyoro, 426. Wanyoro, fattening of, 426.
Z.
Zealanders, New, Australasia, 792.
Zingian Tribes, Africa, 12.
Zulus, Africa, 12.
Transcriber’s Notes
Unless listed under Changes below, the language used in this e-book
is that of the source document, including inconsistencies, archaic
and unusual spelling and hyphenation, pejorative and offensive terms,
etc. Non-English names, words and phrases in particular are not
always spelled correctly or consistently. Factual errors have not
been corrected.
The differences in wording between the Table of Contents and the
chapter headings in the text have not been standardised. The same
applies to the List of Illustrations and the illustration captions
in the text. The order of illustrations in the List of Illustrations
is not always the same as the order in which they are presented in
the book. What appear as major divisions in the Table of Contents are
part of the chapter titles in the text. The original work contains a
Table of Contents per Volume, the List of Illustrations in Volume I,
and the Index in Volume II; for ease of reference, all of these have
been included in both volumes.
The differences in structure and wording between the Table of
Contents and the chapter headings in the text have been retained.
Auto-generated Tables of Contents may therefore differ from the
original one. The same applies to the List of Illustrations and the
illustration captions in the text. The order of illustrations in the
List of Illustrations is not always the same as the order in which
they are presented in the book.
Depending on the hard- and software used to read this text and their
settings, not all elements may display as intended.
List of Illustrations, 259, Fijian idol: the text and the
illustration caption describe this as being from the Solomon Islands.
The Bornese shield on page 1129 is not included in the List of
Illustrations.
Page 136, portulacacia: probably an error for protulacaria.
Page 148, Fig. 1 on page 103 shows one of these spoons: presumably
this refers to the (unnumbered) bottom spoon in the second
illustration on this page.
Page 215, _vacht-een-bidgt_: (possibly phonetic English) misspelling
of _wag-’n-bietjie_ (Afrikaans) or _wacht-een-beetje_ (Dutch);
Bavians-tow: (possibly phonetic English) misspelling of Baviaans-touw.
Page 228, Scriptus tegetalis: possibly an error for Scirpus tegetalis.
Page 245, fore-louper: possibly phonetic English spelling of
voorloper.
Page 265, Romelpot: misspelling of Rommelpot.
Page 353, “It is evident that they believe ...: there is no closing
quote mark.
Page 366, The elephant axe is shown at fig. 1 ...: there is no number
1 in the illustration; presumably the reference is to the axe between
numbers 2 and 4.
Page 374, “Every village swarms with children ...: there is no
closing quote mark.
Page 467, ... its original size at fig. 2: there are no reference
numbers in the illustration.
Page 648, ... when the Abyssinians trouble them- to wash either
their clothes or themselves ...: possibly an error for ... when
the Abyssinians trouble themselves to wash either their clothes or
themselves ... or similar.
Page 660, “This “Hai... oh!” is thought ...: there is no closing
quote mark.
Changes
Illustrations and the (single) footnote have been moved outside text
paragraphs.
Several minor obvious formatting, typographical and punctuation
errors and misprints have been corrected silently. Some superfluous
repeated words have been deleted.
McGillivray, M’Gillivray and M‘Gillivray have been standardised to
M’Gillivray, M’Briar and M‘Briar to M’Briar; Gi’ôm and Gi’om to
Gi’ôm; _i.e._ and _i. e._ have been standardised to _i. e._
List of Illustrations, Table of Contents and Index: Several names
have been standardised to conform to the spelling used in the main
text.
Page 60: ... by reference to the illustration on page -- ... changed
to ... by reference to the illustration on page 63 ....
Page 103: Caption under second illustration: See page 149 changed to
See page 148.
Page 110: ... shake of the dust ... changed to ... shake off the dust
...; closing quote mark inserted after ... I thought a civil war had
commenced.
Page 180: Opening single quote mark inserted before ... you want to
cheat me ...; opening double quote mark inserted before The prophet’s
simulated vision ....
Page 181: Closing single quote mark inserted after ... I see now.
THERE!
Page 195: ... rain was compelled to fail changed to ... rain was
compelled to fall.
Page 199: ... engraving No. 2, on page 189 ... changed to ...
engraving No. 2, on page 188 ....
Page 215: Haak-een-steek changed to Haak-en-steek
Page 216: Texus changed to Taxus.
Page 251: Tarconanthus changed to Tarchonanthus.
Page 276: The main and tail ... changed to The mane and tail ....
Page 320: ... employed by the Ovoquangari ... changed to ... employed
by the Ovaquangari ....
Page 327: ... the lot of the Mokololo women ... changed to ... the
lot of the Makololo women ....
Page 342: ... as seen on page 000 ... changed to ... as seen on page
343 ....
Page 346: Tuba Moroko changed to Tuba Mokoro.
Page 393: ... such as “sambo,” rings, ... changed to ... such as
“sambo” rings, ....
Page 421: closing single quote mark inserted after ... and what will
you do then?
Page 430: ... engraving on page 000 ... changed to ... engraving on
page 431 ....
Page 435: opening single quote mark inserted before ... but if you
can bottle lightning ....
Page 543: closing double quote mark inserted after ... and decrepid
as those of an old woman.
Page 599: closing double quote mark deleted from after ... and
certainly not very regal in aspect.
Page 610: ... Booby, ... replaced with ... Booby) ....
Page 612: A BUBË MARRIAGE changed to A BUBÉ MARRIAGE.
Page 708: ... they are pealed, pounded between two stones, ...
changed to ... they are peeled, pounded between two stones, ...; ...
As, however, as has been stated, ... changed to ... As, however, has
been stated, ....
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