XXXIII. THE BAYEYE AND MAKOBA TRIBES…

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.

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.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

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.

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.

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.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

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.

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.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

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.

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.”

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

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.

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.

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.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us