The Women of Toro
Although undoubtedly belonging to one and the same parent stock, as a
race the Batoro are in features superior to the Baganda, but physically
inferior owing to the different conditions under which their lives
have been lived. Women, both high and low, until within recent years,
were practically the slaves of the Baganda households, and even now
are expected to do the cultivating and cooking of the food. Before the
sun has risen the Baganda women start on their digging in their banana
plantations or potato fields. This has developed their muscles and at the
same time had a healthy effect on the mind, for no one can handle nature
without consciously or unconsciously being influenced by it for good.
The Batoro women, on the other hand, have been merely the chattels of
the home. The upper classes scorned menial work and left it to their
dependents and peasant folk. The middle class did no more than was
absolutely essential, which generally resolved itself into cooking the
one meal for the day. Their homes offered no occupation for them. The
rude grass huts possessed no furnishing, for their wants were of the
simplest. Bark cloth stripped off the wild fig tree and beaten out into
a soft texture, or animals skins, provided them with clothing by day
and covering at night. Their water vessels consisted of the hollowed
out gourds that grow round their huts. One cooking pot sufficed for the
household. A plaited grass mat took the place of mattress over a bed of
reeds strung across a wooden framework and built in along the side of
the hut. Grass covered the floor of every house—seldom changed and never
aired. Soot and cobwebs hung in festoons round the inside, as there are
no chimneys in the huts to carry away the smoke from the open fire in the
centre of the floor.
In recent years the upper class women have discarded the bark-cloth as
apparel for white calico and coloured prints. When these garments show
signs of wear the general custom is neither to wash nor change them for
fear of hastening their end, but clean draperies are thrown over them
when the wearer appears in public.
Some of the women can work very prettily with grass and fibre. Having
discovered various vegetable dyes, they are able to make very attractive
designs in basket-work by dyeing the grass different colours. The fibre
they make into string and then form beautiful knotted bags in which they
have their gourds. It was only by living some time among them that we
discovered these hidden trophies of a spasmodic industry. Very few care
about rousing themselves and devoting the time and care needed for this
work; the fault of the women is their inherent laziness; the generality
of them desire nothing so much as to sit still and do absolutely
nothing. They are so fond of begging, begging, begging, but when you
suggest their _working_, off they go and you never see them any more.
Others will remain in their homes ill for days, and no one will have the
energy to come down and ask for medicine. An industrial exhibition was
suggested by two of our missionaries in 1903, and will be held every
year, it is hoped. Most ingenious bee-hives and rat traps were brought
in as exhibits, besides all sorts of grass and string work, painted bark
cloths and gourds, and so on. The novelty of the exhibition caused great
excitement among the people, and the schoolroom was packed to its utmost
capacity with competitors and others. His Majesty, Daudi Kasagama, opened
the proceedings with an earnest appeal to his people to make the show an
even greater success next time by increasing the number of exhibits and
raising the standard of proficiency.
[Illustration: THE BATORO AT HOME.
_Photo by D. V. F. Figueira, Mombasa._]
Before the advent of Christianity there had been nothing to break the
dull monotony of the women’s existence. As they sat, day after day,
huddled together in their dirty little grass homes, their conversation
scarcely ever ventured outside the well-beaten track of real or imaginary
sickness, and the usual revolting topics that polygamy and heathenism
suggest. Modesty, reserve, shame and sensitiveness were not known among
them. One’s whole nature recoils from the recollection of Africa’s lost
womanhood.
Girls are sometimes betrothed as infants but do not marry till they have
reached the age of 14 or 15. The husband is judged rarely according to
his merit—that receives small consideration—but chiefly according to his
means. The girl’s value is determined by her rank or physical appearance.
Her parents or master fix her price at so many heads of cattle or goats.
A peasant woman can be had as cheap as one goat; should the husband be
fortunate enough, in course of time, to possess a sheep or second goat,
he will sometimes take it and his wife and exchange them for a stronger
and better woman who will be able to do more work for him, or add more
variety, quality or quantity to the day’s menu. A peasant, living on the
mission hill, married one of our women, and coming to the missionary in
charge, fell down on his knees and eloquently praised him for his gift of
potatoes, bananas, and beans. The European looked rather perplexed, and
at last had to own up that the present had not come from him. “Oh yes,
Master,” answered the man, “it was you who gave me my wife.”
When we arrived in Toro in 1900 there was quite a goodly number of
baptised women, including Vikitoliya, the Queen Mother, Damali, the
Queen, several of the Chiefs’ wives and ladies of the royal households.
Several of these had been taught to read before the arrival of the
European missionary, by King Kasagama, who was baptised in 1896 during
a prolonged visit to Uganda. On his return to Toro he had become a true
missionary King, and gathering his women around him day after day in his
courtyard he instructed them in the things he had been taught, while the
men went to the two Baganda Evangelists in the little reed church.
When the European missionary arrived he found a large body of eager
women as well as men, ready to be prepared for Baptism. Vikitoliya was
one of the first whose heart responded to the new religion of love and
holiness, as she listened to the earnest words of the King—her son. She
is a woman of considerable influence and of decided intellectual ability.
Her features present none of the negrotic characteristics, but on the
contrary they are sharply defined and somewhat aquiline; her expression,
sweet and pleasing, betokens her kindness of heart and gentleness of
disposition. She has built for herself an imposing two-storied mud house
with a verandah and balcony all round. From the inside doorway hang reed
and bead curtains which she made herself after seeing a Japanese model in
a European’s house.
She lives about two miles from the capital, and in order to encourage
her people to learn to read and attend daily Bible classes she erected
on her estate a church, which holds about 400 people. I rode over there
one Sunday morning as I had been asked to stand as godmother to the first
little son of the sister of the King. When I arrived the Church was
crowded—it is a large cane building, with innumerable poles inside to
support the walls and roof. It contains no stained glass windows, but the
blue cloudless sky, tall, waving banana trees, and the graceful grasses
of the Indian corn with its golden heads of grain, made a charming
background to the aperture windows and helped the soul in its flight
toward God perhaps more than such exquisitely elaborate windows as are
seen at Notre Dame, which always struck me with their rich colouring. At
the west end stood the font, a black native pot fixed to a wooden packing
case which was draped in Turkey twill. Who could help being impressed as
the words “Suffer the little children to come unto me” sounded out in the
foreign tongue, and a sweet, wee thing, lying on white flannel worked
with pink silk, was brought forward by its delighted royal grandmother.
At the east end were spread the sacred memorials of our Redemption,
speaking with such force of that one Sacrifice which uplifts and unites
all nations under Heaven.
Vikitoliya possessed a peculiar love and reverence for our late Queen,
after whom she was named. She never tired of listening to stories of
the “great white Queen,” and it was her ambition to strive to be to her
people something of what Her late Majesty had been to her subjects.
Never shall I forget her grief and that of all the leading women when
the news of her death reached us. Immediately they came down to us to
sympathize, and were at first quite silent in their grief, then with
tears running down her cheeks, the dusky Queen subject said, “Your sorrow
is our sorrow, we have lost our Mother, our friend.” It is wonderful the
influence that such a reign of purity and righteousness has had even on
far off Africa, rousing the best chivalry and patriotism in the hearts of
its people, and inspiring them to nobler ends.
Christianity is doing for Toro what it has done for every other country
where it has effectually entered—it is raising its women from their
depths of degradation and beautifying their lives, cleansing and refining
their speech and habits. Clean, tidy homes are now seen, and carefully
cultivated land in place of the pestilential filth and gaunt elephant
grass. Happy family life is springing up among the people, and everywhere
there is a stir and progressive vigour.
Upon the Christian women as well as the men has been laid the
responsibility of doing something toward spreading the knowledge of
Christ among the surrounding heathen. At first a district visitors’
band was organized to go two and two into the near villages when the
daily classes in the church were over. They took their books, and either
collected the villagers together or entered their houses and taught them
their letters and syllables, after having read and spoken to them. I used
frequently to go out with them to see what progress they were making;
a shrieking bodyguard would at once attach itself to me under pretence
of frightening the wild animals off! Our arrival was always hailed
with delight, and a dirty mat that acts as bed, couch, and footscraper
was generally politely placed for me on which to be seated. The small
children generally showed their appreciation of the white lady by opening
their commodious mouths as wide as possible and screaming prodigiously.
It took one a very long time to find them attractive, they so sadly
needed a rub down with Pears’ soap or Monkey Brand.
Sometimes I found 100 or 150 natives eagerly struggling with their
reading sheets, all squeezed into an infinitesimally small hut. Somehow
they always found room for the European, for they were very impatient to
be questioned by her and passed on to a higher class. When the reading
lesson was over we used to have a short service with them, and it was
exceedingly impressive to listen sometimes to the young Christian women
speaking to them naturally of Christ’s love. They never attempted an
impossible address or delivered a thorough out-and-out sermon, but with
touching simplicity told in their own language what was a living and
real thing to them. It seemed impossible to believe that so wonderful a
change could have taken place in these Batoro women in so short a time.
When the visit was over, all the women, children, and some of the men
used to tear off in front to the neighbouring huts to inform them that
the European was passing, so on my homeward journey I was accompanied by
excited, chattering men and women and a crowd of naked little folk, many
of them bringing small offerings of flowers, beans, or eggs to deposit at
our door.
Although these folk can make plenty of noise they can make very little
music. They have never been educated up to it. The royal band has been
their only conservatoire of music, and their few songs were connected
with drink or plunder, themes scarcely conducive to the highest poetry.
But their singing is great. You should have heard a singing class I used
to have on Saturday mornings. About twenty of the ladies used to turn
up and exercise their vocal powers. They only knew a few of Sankey’s
most unmusical hymns, and to these they resigned themselves with a fixed
expression and still more fixed attitude, without making the slightest
facial movement. They produced a curious grunt through their nasal organ,
quite irrespective of time, key, or tune. I sacrificed myself to making
the most hideous grimaces it is possible to form my features into, in
order that they might imitate, and so bring a few muscles into action.
But neither tonic sol-fa nor any other tonic would bring about results,
so I gave up the class very hoarse from my efforts.
In August of each year is held in Toro a Teachers’ Conference. All other
work is suspended and the native teachers come in from all the villages
and distant districts. In 1901 we decided to invite the women who were
church members, so that a united Women’s Conference might be held for the
deepening of spiritual life, and discussing methods of work.
We had three separate meetings for women, at each of which a native and
a European spoke. The subjects treated were:—1st Meeting—The work of
teaching for Baptism and Communion—its methods and responsibilities. 2nd
Meeting—The work of visiting and teaching in the gardens—its methods
and its importance. 3rd Meeting—The organization of women’s work, and
farewell word.
On the last day, at the close of a very solemn afternoon gathering,
one woman rose from among the large number present, and in a trembling
voice said, “My heart pains me for those around in darkness, and I want
to go and teach them of Christ’s love.” A great stillness fell on the
meeting, and Damali, the Queen, scarcely able to steady her voice, closed
in prayer, thanking God for having called one from among them to be a
missionary and asking that others might hear the voice. On the third day
nine more women had come to offer themselves as missionaries. One was
Ana Kageye, the head woman of the Royal household, one of the leading
women of the country. Before coming to us she had been to the King, and
received his permission for her to leave him for God’s service. She had,
before her conversion, led a desperately wicked life, and, being old and
so steeped in witchcraft, one almost supposed her to be beyond the power
of reformation. She had first heard of Christ from Kasagama’s lips, and
although her eyes were then getting somewhat dim with age, she learned
from the King to read the Bible for herself. From that time a complete
change came over her whole life and appearance, so that her scarred face
became quite attractive. Since then she had proved a most indefatigable
teacher and helper in all Church work.
A class was at once arranged for instructing these candidates morning
and afternoon for six months in St. Matthew, St. John, Acts, the Pauline
Epistles, and a sketch of Old Testament history. At the end of that
period they were examined for one whole week. During that time their
excitement and anxiety were strained to their highest pitch; they refused
to eat at mid-day for fear they might become incapable of hard thinking,
and were found in their places at class nearly one hour before the
appointed time. After the first week old Ana Kageye took pity on their
troubled appearances, and insisted they should all go to her house after
the morning class and she would give them a substantial meal. Out of
twelve who were questioned two reached ninety-eight per cent. marks and
the lowest did not fall below seventy-five per cent. After that they
were brought before the Native Church Council and ten were assigned to
stations. Two (one being Ana Kageye) were located as foreign missionaries
to distant Ankole, two to a hill station four days’ journey away on a
southern ridge of Ruwenzori, and the remaining six villages two and
three days away. This was a brave step for these Batoro women to take,
after having led such indolent and sheltered lives, and in spite of the
intense joy that filled their heads, they did not leave without tears in
their eyes as they bade good-bye to all their friends for the first time.
Surely they teach a lesson to many in favoured England who have not yet
faced their personal responsibility to the unreached heathen.
All of these first women teachers did splendidly. After six months’ work
they returned for a few weeks, as no native worker is allowed to remain
at his post without coming in for occasional rest and restrengthening.
The deadly influences of heathenism might prove too strong for such young
Christians if they were to live away from helpful surroundings. Eight of
the ten again returned to their work, and the other two were married and
afterwards went out as teachers with their husbands.
Ana Kageye at first found the women of Ankole eager to learn to read, but
not so quick to believe the new religion she brought to them. One day a
young Princess fell sick, and their own cures failing she was carried up
to the European doctor temporarily stationed at the Government fort. When
it was declared by him to be almost a hopeless case the natives gave up
all idea of her recovery, saying that if the white man could not cure her
nothing would.
Good, brave old Ana then came forward and told them again of the Living
God who hears and answers prayer, and they answered together “If your God
will heal her we will believe.” The young dying Princess was thereupon
carried to Ana’s little grass house, and as night fell the fires died
down in every hut but the one in which the sick girl lay, and all night
long the faithful old servant of God, as she watched by the bedside,
wrestled in prayer for the life before her. What a wonderful act of faith
was witnessed that night in the little hut in Darkest Africa! This woman
so recently brought to know God even dared through faith to prove her God
before these heathen. As the day dawned the women gathered round the hut
expecting to mourn over the dead body, but the God of Life had come forth
and revealed His power, the girl’s unconsciousness had passed off and
she had taken the first step to recovery. The result was that after Ana
had been working there nine months she had instructed and prepared for
baptism the first five women of Ankole.
Is it not worth leaving home and friends to search among the dust and
mire of that dark Continent and find such gems, even if they be but few?
“They shall be mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make up
my jewels.”