Perhaps no race of people has more piqued the curiosity of the civilised
world than those little yellow savages of South Africa, known as the
_Bushmen_. From the first hour in which European nations became
acquainted with their existence, a keen interest was excited by the
stories told of their peculiar character and habits; and although they
have been visited by many travellers, and many descriptions have been
given of them, it is but truth to say, that the interest in them has not
yet abated, and the Bushmen of Africa are almost as great a curiosity at
this hour as they were when Di Gama first doubled the Cape. Indeed,
there is no reason why this should not be, for the habits and personal
appearance of these savages are just now as they were then, and our
familiarity with them is not much greater. Whatever has been added to
our knowledge of their character, has tended rather to increase than
diminish our curiosity.
At first the tales related of them were supposed to be filled with
wilful exaggerations, and the early travellers were accused of dealing
too much in the marvellous. This is a very common accusation brought
against the early travellers; and in some instances it is a just one.
But in regard to the accounts given of the Bushmen and their habits
there has been far less exaggeration than might be supposed; and the
more insight we obtain into their peculiar customs and modes of
subsistence, the more do we become satisfied that almost everything
alleged of them is true. In fact, it would be difficult for the most
inventive genius to contrive a fanciful account, that would be much more
curious or interesting than the real and _bona fide_ truth that can be
told about this most peculiar people.
Where do the Bushmen dwell? what is their country? These are questions
not so easily answered, as in reality they are not supposed to possess
any country at all, any more than the wild animals amidst which they
roam, and upon whom they prey. There is no Bushman's country upon the
map, though several spots in Southern Africa have at times received this
designation. It is not possible, therefore, to delineate the boundaries
of their country, since it has no boundaries, any more than that of the
wandering Gypsies of Europe.
If the Bushmen, however, have no country in the proper sense of the
word, they have a "range," and one of the most extensive character--
since it covers the whole southern portion of the African continent,
from the Cape of Good Hope to the twentieth degree of south latitude,
extending east and west from the country of the Cafires to the Atlantic
Ocean. Until lately it was believed that the Bushman-range did not
extend far to the north of the Orange river; but this has proved an
erroneous idea. They have recently "turned up" in the land of the
Dammaras, and also in the great Kalahari desert, hundreds of miles north
from the Orange river and it is not certain that they do not range still
nearer to the equatorial line--though it may be remarked that the
country in that direction does not favour the supposition, not being of
the peculiar nature of a Bushman's country. The Bushman requires a
desert for his dwelling-place. It is an absolute necessity of his
nature, as it is to the ostrich and many species of animals; and north
of the twentieth degree of latitude, South Africa does not appear to be
of this character. The heroic Livingstone has dispelled the
long-cherished illusion of the Geography about the "_Great-sanded
level_" of these interior regions; and, instead, disclosed to the world
a fertile land, well watered, and covered with a profuse and luxuriant
vegetation. In such a land there will be no Bushmen.
The limits we have allowed them, however, are sufficiently large,--
fifteen degrees of latitude, and an equally extensive range from east to
west. It must not be supposed, however, that they _populate_ this vast
territory. On the contrary, they are only distributed over it _in
spots_, in little communities, that have no relationship or connection
with one another, but are separated by wide intervals, sometimes of
hundreds of miles in extent. It is only in the desert tracts of South
Africa that the Bushmen exist,--in the karoos, and treeless, waterless
plains--among the barren ridges and rocky defiles--in the ravines formed
by the beds of dried-up rivers--in situations so sterile, so remote, so
wild and inhospitable as to offer a home to no other human being save
the Bushman himself.
If we state more particularly the localities where the haunts of the
Bushman are to be found, we may specify the barren lands on both sides
of the Orange river,--including most of its headwaters, and down to its
mouth,--and also the Great Kalahari desert. Through all this extensive
region the _kraals_ of the Bushmen may be encountered. At one time they
were common enough within the limits of the Cape colony itself, and some
half-caste remnants still exist in the more remote districts; but the
cruel persecution of the _boers_ has had the effect of extirpating these
unfortunate savages; and, like the elephant, the ostrich, and the eland,
the true wild Bushman is now only to be met with beyond the frontiers of
the colony.
About the origin of the Bushmen we can offer no opinion. They are
generally considered as a branch of the great Hottentot family; but this
theory is far from being an established fact. When South Africa was
first discovered and colonised, both Hottentots and Bushmen were found
there, differing from each other just as they differ at this day; and
though there are some striking points of resemblance between them, there
are also points of dissimilarity that are equally as striking, if we
regard the two people as one. In personal appearance there is a certain
general likeness: that is, both are woolly-haired, and both have a
Chinese cast of features, especially in the form and expression of the
eye. Their colour too is nearly the same; but, on the other hand, the
Hottentots are larger than the Bushmen. It is not in their persons,
however, that the most essential points of dissimilarity are to be
looked for, but rather in their mental characters; and here we observe
distinctions so marked and antithetical, that it is difficult to
reconcile them with the fact that these two people are of one race.
Whether a different habit of life has produced this distinctive
character, or whether _it_ has influenced the habits of life, are
questions not easily answered. We only know that a strange anomaly
exists--the anomaly of two people being personally alike--that is,
possessing physical characteristics that seem to prove them of the same
race, while intellectually, as we shall presently see, they have scarce
one character in common. The slight resemblance that exists between the
languages of the two is not to be regarded as a proof of their common
origin. It only shows that they have long lived in juxtaposition, or
contiguous to each other; a fact which cannot be denied.
In giving a more particular description of the Bushman, it will be seen
in what respect he resembles the true Hottentot, and in what he differs
from him, both physically and mentally, and this description may now be
given.
The Bushman is the smallest man with whom we are acquainted; and if the
terms "dwarf" and "pigmy" may be applied to any race of human beings,
the South-African Bushmen presents the fairest claim to these titles.
He stands only 4 feet 6 inches upon his naked soles--never more than 4
feet 9, and not unfrequently is he encountered of still less height--
even so diminutive as 4 feet 2. His wife is of still shorter stature,
and this Lilliputian lady is often the mother of children when the crown
of her head is just 3 feet 9 inches above the soles of her feet. It has
been a very common thing to contradict the assertion that these people
are such pigmies in stature, and even Dr Livingstone has done so in his
late magnificent work. The doctor states, very jocosely, that they are
"not dwarfish--that the specimens brought to Europe have been selected,
like costermongers' dogs, for their extreme ugliness."
But the doctor forgets that it is but from "the specimens brought to
Europe" that the above standard of the Bushman's height has been
derived, but from the testimony of numerous travellers--many of them as
trustworthy as the doctor himself--from actual measurements made by them
upon the spot. It is hardly to be believed that such men as Sparmann
and Burchell, Barrow and Lichtenstein, Harris, Campbell, Patterson, and
a dozen others that might be mentioned, should all give an erroneous
testimony on this subject. These travellers have differed notoriously
on other points, but in this they all agree, that a Bushman of five feet
in height is a _tall_ man in his tribe. Dr Livingstone speaks of
Bushmen "six feet high," and these are the tribes lately discovered
living so far north as the Lake Nagami. It is doubtful whether these
are Bushmen at all. Indeed, the description given by the doctor, not
only of their height and the colour of their skin, but also some hints
about their intellectual character, would lead to the belief that he has
mistaken some other people for Bushmen. It must be remembered that the
experience of this great traveller has been chiefly among the _Bechuana_
tribes, and his knowledge of the Bushman proper does not appear to be
either accurate or extensive. No man is expected to know everybody; and
amid the profusion of new facts, which the doctor has so liberally laid
before the world, it would be strange if a few inaccuracies should not
occur. Perhaps we should have more confidence if this was the only one
we are enabled to detect; but the doctor also denies that there is
anything either terrific or majestic in the "roaring of the lion." Thus
speaks he: "The same feeling which has induced the modern painter to
caricature the lion has led the sentimentalist to consider the lion's
roar as the most terrific of all earthly sounds. We hear of the
`majestic roar of the king of beasts.' To talk of the majestic roar of
the lion is mere majestic twaddle."
The doctor is certainly in error here. Does he suppose that any one is
ignorant of the character of the lion's roar? Does he fancy that no one
has ever heard it but himself? If it be necessary to go to South Africa
to take the true measure of a Bushman, it is not necessary to make that
long journey in order to obtain a correct idea of the compass of the
lion's voice. We can hear it at home in all its modulations; and any
one who has ever visited the Zoological Gardens in Regent's Park--nay,
any one who chances to live within half a mile of that magnificent
menagerie--will be very much disposed to doubt the correctness of the
doctor's assertion. If there be a sound upon the earth above all others
"majestic," a noise above all others "terrific," it is certainly the
_roar_ of the lion. Ask Albert Terrace and Saint John's Wood!
But let us not be too severe upon the doctor. The world is indebted to
him much more than to any other modern traveller, and all great men
indulge occasionally in the luxury of an eccentric opinion. We have
brought the point forward here for a special purpose,--to illustrate a
too much neglected truth. Error is not always on the side of
_exaggeration_; but is sometimes also found in the opposite extreme of a
too-squeamish moderation. We find the learned Professor Lichtenstein
ridiculing poor old Hernandez, the natural historian of Mexico, for
having given a description of certain fabulous animals--_fabulous_, he
terms them, because to him they were odd and unknown. But it turns out
that the old author was right, and the _animals exist_! How many
similar misconceptions might be recorded of the Buffons, and other
closet philosophers--urged, too, with the most bitter zeal! Incredulity
carried too far is but another form of credulity.
But to return to our proper theme, and complete the portrait of the
Bushman. We have given his height. It is in tolerable proportion to
his other dimensions. When young, he appears stout enough; but this is
only when a mere boy. At the age of sixteen he has reached all the
manhood he is ever destined to attain; and then his flesh disappears;
his body assumes a meagre outline; his arms and limbs grow thin; the
calf disappears from his legs; the plumpness from his cheeks; and
altogether he becomes as wretched-looking an object as it is possible to
conceive in human shape. Older, his skin grows dry, corrugated, and
scaly; his bones protrude; and his knee, elbow, and ankle-joints appear
like horny knobs placed at the ends of what more resemble long straight
sticks than the arms and limbs of a human being.
The colour of this creature may be designated a yellow-brown, though it
is not easy to determine it to a shade. The Bushman appears darker than
he really is; since his skin serves him for a towel, and every species
of dirt that discommodes his fingers he gets rid of by wiping it off on
his arms, sides, or breast. The result is, that his whole body is
usually coated over with a stratum of grease and filth, which has led to
the belief that he regularly anoints himself--a custom common among many
savage tribes. This, however, the Bushman does not do: the smearing
toilet is merely occasional or accidental, and consists simply in the
fat of whatever flesh he has been eating being transferred from his
fingers to the cuticle of his body. This is never washed off again--for
water never touches the Bushman's hide. Such a use of water is entirely
unknown to him, not even for washing his face. Should he have occasion
to cleanse his hands--which the handling of gum or some like substance
sometimes compels him to do--he performs the operation, not with soap
and water, but with the dry dung of cattle or some wild animal. A
little rubbing of this upon his skin is all the purification the Bushman
believes to be needed.
Of course, the dirt darkens his complexion; but he has the vanity at
times to brighten it up--not by making it whiter--but rather a
brick-red. A little ochreous earth produces the colour he requires; and
with this he smears his body all over--not excepting even the crown of
his head, and the scant stock of wool that covers it.
Bushmen have been washed. It requires some scrubbing, and a plentiful
application either of soda or soap, to reach the true skin and bring out
the natural colour; but the experiment has been made, and the result
proves that the Bushman is not so black as, under ordinary
circumstances, he appears. A yellow hue shines through the epidermis,
somewhat like the colour of the Chinese, or a European in the worst
stage of jaundice--the eye only not having that complexion. Indeed, the
features of the Bushman, as well as the Hottentot, bear a strong
similarity to those of the Chinese, and the Bushman's eye is essentially
of the Mongolian type. His hair, however, is entirely of another
character. Instead of being long, straight, and lank, it is short,
crisp, and curly,--in reality, wool. Its scantiness is a
characteristic; and in this respect the Bushman differs from the
woolly-haired tribes both of Africa and Australasia. These generally
have "fleeces" in profusion, whereas both Hottentot and Bushman have not
enough to half cover their scalps; and between the little knot-like
"kinks" there are wide spaces without a single hair upon them. The
Bushman's "wool" is naturally black, but red ochre and the sun soon
convert the colour into a burnt reddish hue.
The Bushman has no beard or other hairy encumbrances. Were they to
grow, he would root them out as useless inconveniences. He has a
low-bridged nose, with wide flattened nostrils; an eye that appears a
mere slit between the eyelids; a pair of high cheek-bones, and a
receding forehead. His lips are not thick, as in the negro, and he is
furnished with a set of fine white teeth, which, as he grows older, do
not decay, but present the singular phenomenon of being regularly worn
down to the stumps--as occurs to the teeth of sheep and other ruminant
animals.
Notwithstanding the small stature of the Bushman, his frame is wiry and
capable of great endurance. He is also as agile as an antelope.
From the description above given, it will be inferred that the Bushman
is no beauty. Neither is the Bushwoman; but, on the contrary, both
having passed the period of youth, become absolutely ugly,--the woman,
if possible, more so than the man.
And yet, strange to say, many of the Bush-girls, when young, have a cast
of prettiness almost amounting to beauty. It is difficult to tell in
what this beauty consists. Something, perhaps, in the expression of the
oblique almond-shaped eye, and the small well-formed mouth and lips,
with the shining white teeth. Their limbs, too, at this early age, are
often well-rounded; and many of them exhibit forms that might serve as
models for a sculptor. Their feet are especially well-shaped, and, in
point of size, they are by far the smallest in the world. Had the
Chinese ladies been gifted by nature with such little feet, they might
have been spared the torture of compressing them.
The foot of a Bushwoman rarely measures so much as six inches in length;
and full-grown girls have been seen, whose feet, submitted to the test
of an actual measurement, proved but a very little over four inches!
Intellectually, the Bushman does not rank so low as is generally
believed. He has a quick, cheerful mind, that appears ever on the
alert,--as may be judged by the constant play of his little piercing
black eye,--and though he does not always display much skill in the
manufacture of his weapons, he can do so if he pleases. Some tribes
construct their bows, arrows, fish-baskets, and other implements and
utensils with admirable ingenuity; but in general the Bushman takes no
pride in fancy weapons. He prefers having them effective, and to this
end he gives proof of his skill in the manufacture of _most deadly
poisons_ with which to anoint his arrows. Furthermore, he is ever
active and ready for action; and in this his mind is in complete
contrast with that of the Hottentot, with whom indolence is a
predominant and well-marked characteristic. The Bushman, on the
contrary, is always on the _qui vive_; always ready to be doing where
there is anything to do; and there is not much opportunity for him to be
idle, as he rarely ever knows where the next meal is to come from. The
ingenuity which he displays in the capture of various kinds of game,--
far exceeding that of other hunting tribes of Africa,--as also the
cunning exhibited by him while engaged in cattle-stealing and other
plundering forays, prove an intellectual capacity more than proportioned
to his diminutive body; and, in short, in nearly every mental
characteristic does he differ from the supposed cognate race--the
Hottentot.
It would be hardly just to give the Bushman a character for high
courage; but, on the other hand, it would be as unjust to charge him
with cowardice. Small as he is, he shows plenty of "pluck," and when
brought to bay, his motto is, "No surrender." He will fight to the
death, discharging his poisoned arrows as long as he is able to bend a
bow. Indeed, he has generally been treated to shooting, or clubbing to
death, wherever and whenever caught, and he knows nothing of _quarter_.
Just as a badger he ends his life,--his last struggle being an attempt
to do injury to his assailant. This trait in his character has, no
doubt, been strengthened by the inhuman treatment that, for a century,
he has been receiving from the brutal boers of the colonial frontier.
The costume of the Bushman is of the most primitive character,--
differing only from that worn by our first parents, in that the fig-leaf
used by the men is a patch of jackal-skin, and that of the women a sort
of fringe or bunch of leather thongs, suspended around the waist by a
strap, and hanging down to the knees. It is in reality a little apron
of dressed skin; or, to speak more accurately, two of them, one above
the other, both cut into narrow strips or thongs, from below the waist
downward. Other clothing than this they have none, if we except a
little skin _kaross_, or cloak, which is worn over their shoulders;--
that of the women being provided with a bag or hood at the top, that
answers the naked "piccaninny" for a nest or cradle. Sandals protect
their feet from the sharp stones, and these are of the rudest
description,--merely a piece of the thick hide cut a little longer and
broader than the soles of the feet, and fastened at the toes and round
the ankles by thongs of sinews. An attempt at ornament is displayed in
a leathern skullcap, or more commonly a circlet around the head, upon
which are sewed a number of "cowries," or small shells of the _Cyprea
moneta_.
It is difficult to say where these shells are procured,--as they are not
the product of the Bushman's country, but are only found on the far
shores of the Indian Ocean. Most probably he obtains them by barter,
and after they have passed through many hands; but they must cost the
Bushman dear, as he sets the highest value upon them. Other ornaments
consist of old brass or copper buttons, attached to the little curls of
his woolly hair; and, among the women, strings of little pieces of
ostrich egg-shells, fashioned to resemble beads; besides a perfect load
of leathern bracelets on the arms, and a like profusion of similar
circlets on the limbs, often reaching from the knee to the ankle-joint.
Red ochre over the face and hair is the fashionable toilette, and a
perfumery is obtained by rubbing the skin with the powdered leaves of
the "buku" plant, a species of _diosma_. According to a quaint old
writer, this causes them to "stink like a poppy," and would be highly
objectionable, were it not preferable to the odour which they have
without it.
They do not _tattoo_, nor yet perforate the ears, lips, or nose,--
practices so common among savage tribes. Some instances of
nose-piercing have been observed, with the usual appendage of a piece of
wood or porcupine's quill inserted in the septum, but this is a custom
rather of the Caffres than Bushmen. Among the latter it is rare. A
grand ornament is obtained by smearing the face and head with a shining
micaceous paste, which is procured from a cave in one particular part of
the Bushman's range; but this, being a "far-fetched" article, is
proportionably scarce and dear. It is only a fine belle who can afford
to give herself a coat of _blink-slip_,--as this sparkling pigment is
called by the colonists. Many of the women, and men as well, carry in
their hands the bushy tail of a jackal. The purpose is to fan off the
flies, and serve also as a "wipe," to disembarrass their bodies of
perspiration when the weather chances to be over hot.
The domicile of the Bushman next merits description. It is quite as
simple and primitive as his dress, and gives him about equal trouble in
its construction. If a cave or cleft can be found in the rocks, of
sufficient capacity to admit his own body and those of his family--never
a very large one--he builds no house. The cave contents him, be it ever
so tight a squeeze. If there be no cave handy, an overhanging rock will
answer equally as well. He regards not the open sides, nor the
draughts. It is only the rain which he does not relish; and any sort of
a shed, that will shelter him from that, will serve him for a dwelling.
If neither cave, crevice, nor impending cliff can be found in the
neighbourhood, he then resorts to the alternative of housebuilding; and
his style of architecture does not differ greatly from that of the
orang-outang. A bush is chosen that grows near to two or three
others,--the branches of all meeting in a common centre. Of these
branches the builder takes advantage, fastening them together at the
ends, and wattling some into the others. Over this framework a quantity
of grass is scattered in such a fashion as to cast off a good shower of
rain, and then the "carcass" of the building is considered complete.
The inside work remains yet to be done, and that is next set about. A
large roundish or oblong hole is scraped out in the middle of the floor.
It is made wide enough and deep enough to hold the bodies of three or
four Bush-people, though a single large Caffre or Dutchman would
scarcely find room in it. Into this hole is flung a quantity of dry
grass, and arranged so as to present the appearance of a gigantic nest.
This nest, or lair, becomes the bed of the Bushman, his wife, or
wives,--for he frequently keeps two,--and the other members of his
family. Coiled together like monkeys, and covered with their skin
karosses, they all sleep in it,--whether "sweetly" or "soundly," I shall
not take upon me to determine.
It is supposed to be this fashion of literally "sleeping in the bush,"
as also the mode by which he skulks and hides among bushes,--invariably
taking to them when pursued,--that has given origin to the name Bushman,
or _Bosjesman_, as it is in the language of the colonial Dutch. This
derivation is probable enough, and no better has been offered.
The Bushman sometimes constructs himself a more elaborate dwelling; that
is, some Bushmen;--for it should be remarked that there are a great many
tribes or communities of these people, and they are not all so very low
in the scale of civilisation. None, however, ever arrive at the
building of a house,--not even a hut. A tent is their highest effort in
the building line, and that is of the rudest description, scarce
deserving the name. Its covering is a mat, which they weave out of a
species of rush that grows along some of the desert streams; and in the
fabrication of the covering they display far more ingenuity than in the
planning or construction of the tent itself. The mat, in fact, is
simply laid over two poles, that are bent into the form of an arch, by
having both ends stuck into the ground. A second piece of matting
closes up one end; and the other, left open, serves for the entrance.
As a door is not deemed necessary, no further construction is required,
and the tent is "pitched" complete. It only remains to scoop out the
sand, and make the _nest_ as already described.
It is said that the Goths drew their ideas of architecture from the
aisles of the oak forest; the Chinese from their Mongolian tents; and
the Egyptians from their caves in the rocks. Beyond a doubt, the
Bushman has borrowed his from the nest of the ostrich!
It now becomes necessary to inquire how the Bushman spends his time? how
he obtains subsistence? and what is the nature of his food? All these
questions can be answered, though at first it may appear difficult to
answer them. Dwelling, as he always does, in the very heart of the
desert, remote from forests that might furnish him with some sort of
food--trees that might yield fruit,--far away from a fertile soil, with
no knowledge of agriculture, even if it were near,--with no flocks or
herds; neither sheep, cattle, horses, nor swine,--no domestic animals
but his lean, diminutive dogs,--how does this Bushman procure enough to
eat? What are his sources of supply?
We shall see. Being neither a grazier nor a farmer, he has other means
of subsistence,--though it must be confessed that they are of a
precarious character, and often during his life does the Bushman find
himself on the very threshold of starvation. This, however, results
less from the parsimony of Nature than the Bushman's own improvident
habits,--a trait in his character which is, perhaps, more strongly
developed in him than any other. We shall have occasion to refer to it
presently.
His first and chief mode of procuring his food is by the chase: for,
although he is surrounded by the sterile wilderness, he is not the only
animated being who has chosen the desert for his home. Several species
of birds--one the largest of all--and quadrupeds, share with the Bushman
the solitude and safety of this desolate region. The rhinoceros can
dwell there; and in numerous streams are found the huge hippopotami;
whilst quaggas, zebras, and several species of antelope frequent the
desert plains as their favourite "stamping" ground. Some of these
animals can live almost without water; but when they do require it, what
to them is a gallop of fifty miles to some well-known "vley" or pool?
It will be seen, therefore, that the desert has its numerous denizens.
All these are objects of the Bushman's pursuit, who follows them with
incessant pertinacity--as if he were a beast of prey, furnished by
Nature with the most carnivorous propensities.
In the capture of these animals he displays an almost incredible
dexterity and cunning. His mode of approaching the sly ostrich, by
disguising himself in the skin of one of these birds, is so well-known
that I need not describe it here; but the _ruses_ he adopts for
capturing or killing other sorts of game are many of them equally
ingenious. The pit-trap is one of his favourite contrivances; and this,
too, has been often described,--but often very erroneously. The pit is
not a large hollow,--as is usually asserted,--but rather of dimensions
proportioned to the size of the animal that is expected to fall into it.
For game like the rhinoceros or _eland_ antelope, it is dug of six feet
in length and three in width at the top; gradually narrowing to the
bottom, where it ends in a trench of only twelve inches broad. Six or
seven feet is considered deep enough; and the animal, once into it, gets
so wedged at the narrow bottom part as to be unable to make use of its
legs for the purpose of springing out again. Sometimes a sharp stake or
two are used, with the view of _impaling_ the victim; but this plan is
not always adopted. There is not much danger of a quadruped that drops
in ever getting out again, till he is dragged out by the Bushman in the
shape of a carcass.
The Bushman's ingenuity does not end here. Besides the construction of
the trap, it is necessary the game should be guided into it. Were this
not done, the pit might remain a long time empty, and, as a necessary
consequence, so too might the belly of the Bushman. In the wide plain
few of the gregarious animals have a path which they follow habitually;
only where there is a pool may such beaten trails be found, and of these
the Bushman also avails himself; but they are not enough. Some
artificial means must be used to make the traps pay--for they are not
constructed without much labour and patience. The plan adopted by the
Bushman to accomplish this exhibits some points of originality. He
first chooses a part of the plain which lies between two mountains. No
matter if these be distant from each other: a mile, or even two, will
not deter the Bushman from his design. By the help of his whole tribe--
men, women, and children--he constructs a fence from one mountain to the
other. The material used is whatever may be most ready to the hand:
stones, sods, brush, or dead timber, if this be convenient. No matter
how rude the fence: it need not either be very high. He leaves several
gaps in it; and the wild animals, however easily they might leap over
such a puny barrier, will, in their ordinary way, prefer to walk
leisurely through the gaps. In each of these, however, there is a
dangerous hole--dangerous from its depth as well as from the cunning way
in which it is concealed from the view--in short, in each gap there is a
_pit-fall_. No one--at least no animal except the elephant--would ever
suspect its presence; the grass seems to grow over it, and the sand lies
unturned, just as elsewhere upon the plain. What quadruped could detect
the cheat? Not any one except the sagacious elephant. The stupid eland
tumbles through; the gemsbok goes under; and the rhinoceros rushes into
it as if destined to destruction. The Bushman sees this from his
elevated perch, glides forward over the ground, and spears the
struggling victim with his _poisoned assagai_.
Besides the above method of capturing game the Bushman also uses the bow
and arrows. This is a weapon in which he is greatly skilled; and
although both bow and arrows are as tiny as if intended for children's
toys, they are among the deadliest of weapons, their fatal effect lies
not in the _size_ of the wound they are capable of inflicting, but in
the peculiar mode in which the barbs of the arrows are prepared. I need
hardly add that they are dipped in poison;--for who has not heard of the
poisoned arrows of the African Bushmen?
Both bow and arrows are usually rude enough in their construction, and
would appear but a trumpery affair, were it not for a knowledge of their
effects. The bow is a mere round stick, about three feet long, and
slightly bent by means of its string of twisted sinews. The arrows are
mere reeds, tipped with pieces of bone, with a split ostrich-quill
lapped behind the head, and answering for a barb. This arrow the
Bushman can shoot with tolerable certainty to a distance of a hundred
yards, and he can even project it farther by giving a slight elevation
to his aim. It signifies not whether the force with which it strikes
the object be ever so slight, if it only makes an entrance. Even a
scratch from its point will sometimes prove fatal.
Of course the danger dwells altogether in the poison. Were it not for
that, the Bushman, from his dwarfish stature and pigmy strength, would
be a harmless creature indeed.
The poison he well knows how to prepare, and he can make it of the most
"potent spell," when the "materials" are within his reach. For this
purpose he makes use of both vegetable and animal substances, and a
mineral is also employed; but the last is not a poison, and is only used
to give consistency to the liquid, so that it may the better adhere to
the arrow. The vegetable substances are of various kinds. Some are
botanically known: the bulb of _Amaryllis disticha_,--the gum of a
_Euphorbia_,--the sap of a species of sumac (_Rhus_),--and the nuts of a
shrubby plant, by the colonists called _Woolf-gift_ (Wolf-poison).
The animal substance is the fluid found in the fangs of venomous
serpents, several species of which serve the purpose of the Bushman: as
the little "Horned Snake,"--so called from the scales rising prominently
over its eyes; the "Yellow Snake," or South-African Cobra (_Naga haje_);
the "Puff Adder," and others. From all these he obtains the ingredients
of his deadly ointment, and mixes them, not all together; for he cannot
always procure them all in any one region of the country in which he
dwells. He makes his poison, also, of different degrees of potency,
according to the purpose for which he intends it; whether for hunting or
war. With sixty or seventy little arrows, well imbued with this fatal
mixture, and carefully placed in his quiver of tree bark or skin,--or,
what is not uncommon, stuck like a coronet around his head,--he sallies
forth, ready to deal destruction either to game, animals, or to human
enemies.
Of these last he has no lack. Every man, not a Bushman, he deems his
enemy; and he has some reason for thinking so. Truly may it be said of
him, as of Ishmael, that his "hand is against every man, and every man's
hand against him;" and such has been his unhappy history for ages. Not
alone have the boers been his pursuers and oppressors, but all others
upon his borders who are strong enough to attack him,--colonists,
Caffres, and Bechuanas, all alike,--not even excepting his supposed
kindred, the Hottentots. Not only does no fellow-feeling exist between
Bushman and Hottentot, but, strange to say, they hate each other with
the most rancorous hatred. The Bushman will plunder a Namaqua
Hottentot, a Griqua, or a Gonaqua,--plunder and murder him with as much
ruthlessness, or even more, than he would the hated Caffre or boer. All
are alike his enemies,--all to be plundered and massacred, whenever met,
and the thing appears possible.
We are speaking of plunder. This is another source of supply to the
Bushman, though one that is not always to be depended upon. It is his
most dangerous method of obtaining a livelihood, and often costs him his
life. He only resorts to it when all other resources fail him, and food
is no longer to be obtained by the chase.
He makes an expedition into the settlements,--either of the frontier
boers, Caffres, or Hottentots,--whichever chance to live most convenient
to his haunts. The expedition, of course, is by night, and conducted,
not as an open _foray_, but in secret, and by stealth. The cattle are
_stolen_, not _reeved_, and driven off while the owner and his people
are asleep.
In the morning, or as soon as the loss is discovered, a pursuit is at
once set on foot. A dozen men, mounted and armed with long muskets
(_roers_), take the _spoor_ of the spoilers, and follow it as fast as
their horses will _carry_ them. A dozen boers, or even half that
number, is considered a match for a whole tribe of Bushmen, in any fight
which may occur in the open plain, as the boers make use of their
long-range guns at such a distance that the Bushmen are shot down
without being able to use their poisoned arrows; and if the thieves have
the fortune to be overtaken before they have got far into the desert,
they stand a good chance of being terribly chastised.
There is no quarter shown them. Such a thing as mercy is never dreamt
of,--no sparing of lives any more than if they were a pack of hyenas.
The Bushmen may escape to the rocks, such of them as are not hit by the
bullets; and there the boers know it would be idle to follow them. Like
the klipspringer antelope, the little savages can bound from rock to
rock, and cliff to cliff, or hide like partridges among crevices, where
neither man nor horse can pursue them. Even upon the level plain--if it
chance to be stony or intersected with breaks and ravines--a horseman
would endeavour to overtake them in vain, for these yellow imps are as
swift as ostriches.
When the spoilers scatter thus, the boer may recover his cattle, but in
what condition? That he has surmised already, without going among the
herd. He does not expect to drive home one half of them; perhaps not
one head. On reaching the flock he finds there is not one without a
wound of some kind or other: a gash in the flank, the cut of a knife,
the stab of an assagai, or a poisoned arrow--intended for the boer
himself--sticking between the ribs. This is the sad spectacle that
meets his eyes; but he never reflects that it is the result of his own
cruelty,--he never regards it in the light of retribution. Had he not
first hunted the Bushman to make him a slave, to make bondsmen and
bondsmaids of his sons and daughters, to submit them to the caprice and
tyranny of his great, strapping _frau_, perhaps his cattle would have
been browsing quietly in his fields. The poor Bushman, in attempting to
take them, followed but his instincts of hunger: in yielding them up he
obeyed but the promptings of revenge.
It is not always that the Bushman is thus overtaken. He frequently
succeeds in carrying the whole herd to his desert fastness; and the
skill which he exhibits in getting them there is perfectly surprising.
The cattle themselves are more afraid of him than of a wild beast, and
run at his approach; but the Bushman, swifter than they, can glide all
around them, and keep them moving at a rapid rate.
He uses stratagem also to obstruct or baffle the pursuit. The route he
takes is through the driest part of the desert,--if possible, where
water does not exist at all. The cattle suffer from thirst, and bellow
from the pain; but the Bushman cares not for that, so long as he is
himself served. But how is he served? There is no water, and a Bushman
can no more go without drinking than a boer: how then does he provide
for himself on these long expeditions?
All has been pre-arranged. While off to the settlements, the Bushman's
wife has been busy. The whole _kraal_ of women--young and old--have
made an excursion halfway across the desert, each carrying ostrich
egg-shells, as much as her kaross will hold, each shell full of water.
These have been deposited at intervals along the route in secret spots
known by marks to the Bushmen, and this accomplished the women return
home again. In this way the plunderer obtains his supply of water, and
thus is he enabled to continue his journey over the arid _Karroo_.
The pursuers become appalled. They are suffering from thirst--their
horses sinking under them. Perhaps they have lost their way? It would
be madness to proceed further. "Let the cattle go this time?" and with
this disheartening reflection they give up the pursuit, turn the heads
of their horses, and ride homeward.
There is a feast at the Bushman's kraal--and such a feast! not _one_ ox
is slaughtered, but a score of them all at once. They kill them, as if
from very wantonness; and they no longer eat, but raven on the flesh.
For days the feasting is kept up almost continuously,--even at night
they must wake up to have a midnight meal! and thus runs the tale, till
every ox has been eaten. They have not the slightest idea of a
provision for the future; even the lower animals seem wiser in this
respect. They do not think of keeping a few of the plundered cattle at
pasture to serve them for a subsequent occasion. They give the poor
brutes neither food nor drink; but, having penned them up in some defile
of the rocks, leave them to moan and bellow, to drop down and die.
On goes the feasting, till all are finished; and even if the flesh has
turned putrid, this forms not the slightest objection: it is eaten all
the same.
The kraal now exhibits an altered spectacle. The starved, meagre
wretches, who were seen flitting among its tents but a week ago, have
all disappeared. Plump bodies and distended abdomens are the order of
the day; and the profile of the Bushwoman, taken from the neck to the
knees, now exhibits the outline of the letter S. The little imps leap
about, tearing raw flesh,--their yellow cheeks besmeared with blood,--
and the lean curs seem to have been exchanged for a pack of fat, petted
poodles.
But this scene must some time come to an end, and at length it does end.
All the flesh is exhausted, and the bones picked clean. A complete
reaction comes over the spirit of the Bushman. He falls into a state of
languor,--the only time when he knows such a feeling,--and he keeps his
kraal, and remains idle for days. Often he sleeps for twenty-four hours
at a time, and wakes only to go to sleep again. He need not rouse
himself with the idea of getting something to eat: there is not a morsel
in the whole kraal, and he knows it. He lies still, therefore,--
weakened with hunger, and overcome with the drowsiness of a terrible
lassitude.
Fortunate for him, while in this state, if those bold vultures--
attracted by the _debris_ of his feast, and now high wheeling in the
air--be not perceived from afar; fortunate if they do not discover the
whereabouts of his kraal to the vengeful pursuer. If they should do so,
he has made his last foray and his last feast.
When the absolute danger of starvation at length compels our Bushman to
bestir himself, he seems to recover a little of his energy, and once
more takes to hunting, or, if near a stream, endeavours to catch a few
fish. Should both these resources fail, he has another,--without which
he would most certainly starve,--and perhaps this may be considered his
most important source of supply, since it is the most constant, and can
be depended on at nearly all seasons of the year. Weakened with hunger,
then, and scarce equal to any severer labour, he goes _out hunting--this
time insects, not quadrupeds_. With a stout stick inserted into a stone
at one end and pointed at the other, he proceeds to the nests of the
white ants (_termites_), and using the point of the stick,--the stone
serving by its weight to aid the force of the blow,--he breaks open the
hard, gummy clay of which the hillock is formed. Unless the _aard-vark_
and the _pangolin_--two very different kinds of ant-eaters--have been
there before him, he finds the chambers filled with the eggs of the
ants, the insects themselves, and perhaps large quantities of their
_larvae_. All are equally secured by the Bushman, and either devoured
on the spot, or collected into a skin bag, and carried back to his
kraal.
He hunts also another species of ants that do not build nests or
"hillocks," but bring forth their young in hollows under the ground.
These make long galleries or covered ways just under the surface, and at
certain periods--which the Bushman knows by unmistakable signs--they
become very active, and traverse these underground galleries in
thousands. If the passages were to be opened above, the ants would soon
make off to their caves, and but a very few could be captured. The
Bushman, knowing this, adopts a stratagem. With the stick already
mentioned he pierces holes of a good depth down; and works the stick
about, until the sides of the holes are smooth and even. These he
intends shall serve him as pitfalls; and they are therefore made in the
covered ways along which the insects are passing. The result is, that
the little creatures, not suspecting the existence of these deep wells,
tumble head foremost into them, and are unable to mount up the steep
smooth sides again, so that in a few minutes the hole will be filled
with ants, which the Bushman scoops out at his leisure.
Another source of supply which he has, and also a pretty constant one,
consists of various roots of the tuberous kind, but more especially
bulbous roots, which grow in the desert. They are several species of
_Ixias_ and _Mesembryanthemums_,--some of them producing bulbs of a
large size, and deeply buried underground. Half the Bushman's and
Bushwoman's time is occupied in digging for these roots; and the spade
employed is the stone-headed staff already described.
Ostrich eggs also furnish the Bushman with many a meal; and the huge
shells of these eggs serve him for water-vessels, cups, and dishes. He
is exceedingly expert in tracking up the ostrich, and discovering its
nest. Sometimes he finds a nest in the absence of the birds; and in a
case of this kind he pursues a course of conduct that is _peculiarly
Bushman_. Having removed all the eggs to a distance, and concealed them
under some bush, he returns to the nest and ensconces himself in it.
His diminutive body, when close squatted, cannot be perceived from a
distance, especially when there are a few bushes around the nest, as
there usually are. Thus concealed he awaits the return of the birds,
holding his bow and poisoned arrows ready to salute them as soon as they
come within range. By this _ruse_ he is almost certain of killing
either the cock or hen, and not infrequently both--when they do not
return together.
Lizards and land-tortoises often furnish the Bushman with a meal; and
the shell of the latter serves him also for a dish; but his period of
greatest plenty is when the locusts _appear_. Then, indeed, the Bushman
is no longer in want of a meal; and while these creatures remain with
him, he knows no hunger. He grows fat in a trice, and his curs keep
pace with him--for they too greedily devour the locusts. Were the
locusts a constant, or even an annual visitor, the Bushman would be a
rich man--at all events his wants would be amply supplied.
Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for everybody else, these
terrible destroyers of vegetation only come now and then--several years
often intervening between their visits.
The Bushmen have no religion whatever; no form of marriage--any more
than mating together like wild beasts; but they appear to have some
respect for the memory of their dead, since they bury them--usually
erecting a large pile of stones, or "cairn," over the body.
They are far from being of a melancholy mood. Though crouching in their
dens and caves during the day, in dread of the boers and other enemies,
they come forth at night to chatter and make merry. During fine
moonlights they dance all night, keeping up the _ball_ till morning; and
in their kraals may be seen a circular spot--beaten hard and smooth with
their feet--where these dances are performed.
They have no form of government--not so much as a head man or chief.
Even the father of the family possesses no authority, except such as
superior strength may give him; and when his sons are grown up and
become as strong as he is, this of course also ceases.
They have no tribal organisation; the small communities in which they
live being merely so many individuals accidentally brought together,
often quarrelling and separating from one another. These communities
rarely number over a hundred individuals, since, from the nature of
their country, a large number could not find subsistence in any one
place. It follows, therefore, that the Bushman race must ever remain
widely scattered--so long as they pursue their present mode of life--and
no influence has ever been able to win them from it. Missionary efforts
made among them have all proved fruitless. The desert seems to have
been created for them, as they for the desert; and when transferred
elsewhere, to dwell amidst scenes of civilised life, they always yearn
to return to their wilderness home.
Truly are these pigmy savages an odd people!