BIRTH CUSTOMS--EDUCATION--INTELLECT--CHARACTER--NEWS-CARRIERS.
The "Khapong," which I mentioned in a former chapter, is supposed to be
the abode of the Spirit of Maternity, and women who have no children
firmly believe this spirit is able to grant their heart's desire if only
they can find favour in his sight. In order that he may see how
earnestly they desire a child, they will make either a wooden or clay
doll, which they strap on their backs and carry about with them, as they
would a living child, for at least six months. At the end of that time,
they lay it in the "Khapong" as an offering to the spirit, together with
any bangles, beads, or ornaments, or even money, which they can collect.
Should no child be born, it is a sign that the woman has not found
favour with the spirit yet, so the doll is removed from the "Khapong,"
and strapped on the woman's back until the spirit is satisfied, when oh,
joy! the longed-for child is born. I know of one case where for five
years the woman carried one of these dolls about with her before her
petition was granted.
The customs with regard to the birth of a woman's first child are
decidedly quaint. To begin with, the wife must leave her husband's house
about a month, or even longer, before the expected arrival of the child,
as it must be born at the home of its maternal grandmother, or else it
cannot possibly live to grow up. If it happens to be a boy, the
rejoicings are judiciously mixed with regret. As the news-bearers set
out at once to carry the tidings to the father (who has remained at his
own village), they learn nothing of the woman's condition, that is a
matter of slight importance. Upon arrival at their destination they
attack the unsuspecting man and beat him vigorously with their sticks.
No word is spoken, but the unlucky man at once understands he is the
father of a male child instead of the eagerly hoped-for daughter.
Naturally he is disappointed, but nevertheless he consoles himself with
the reflection that after all a boy is better than no child, for he will
certainly be of some use, and the spirits may be kind and give him a
daughter next time. If, on the other hand, the infant is a girl, the
woman receives many and hearty congratulations; the news-bearers hurry
off to carry the joyful tidings to the father. Great caution is observed
as they approach the village, lest he should catch sight of them. At
length they manage to creep up behind him, when he is sitting outside,
probably conversing with one or two friends. The messengers are armed
this time with a pot of water, which they throw over the happy father,
who immediately receives the congratulations of all his friends. The
water is supposed to act as a wholesome "damper" upon his joy, lest the
good news should prove injurious to him or unsettle his mind. It is not
considered correct for him to visit his wife and child, but, when the
baby is a month old, the wife returns to her husband, bringing the child
with her. Basuto women often nurse their baby until it is eighteen
months old. When the first baby is weaned, the mother takes it back to
her parents, to whom it will in future belong; the actual parents no
longer retain any claim upon it, nor, should it be a girl, do they
receive the dowry upon her marriage; that also belongs to the maternal
grandparents.
Should a doctor be called in at the birth of a child, the mother can
neither wean it nor cut its hair until the doctor has given his consent.
Usually the infant's head is shaved on the second day.
Should other children be born, there is no need for the mother to leave
her husband's house, as no evil will attend their birth, such as
threatens the birth of the first-born. In all cases where no doctor has
been in attendance, the father has absolute control over the child,
whether absent or present, and no step can be taken without first
consulting him.
Sometimes rather strange complications arise. For instance, numbers of
Basuto leave the country every year to find work in the mines and on the
railways. Many of them are married men with young children. Suppose one
man left a wife and baby of a few months old behind him, his wife must
on no account wean the child until her husband returns. The result is,
that now and then one comes across quite big children, able to run about
and talk quite intelligently, still unweaned, and, when asked the
reason, the mother will reply: "My husband has not yet returned."
Occasionally he never comes back.
When the birth of a child is momentarily expected, as many women and old
men (the latter being regarded as "old women") crowd into the hut as it
will conveniently hold. As soon as the child is born, an appropriate
name is suggested, such as "Thibello" (waited for or long expected),
"Siluane" (tear-drop), etc., and by this name the child is in future
known, the mother taking the name "Ma-Thibello" (mother of waiting), or
"Ma" (mother of), whichever name is given to the child.
Should a woman die while her child is still too young to be fed with a
spoon, a sheep or goat is killed, and the windpipe, thoroughly cleansed,
is used as a feeding-tube, down which the milk is slowly poured into
the child's mouth. If it is not expedient to kill an animal, a female
goat in milk is procured, and the child taught to drink from the goat's
udder. In these cases the goats become more attached to their "foster
children" than to their own offspring, and will return at regular
intervals to the hut to suckle the child. It is a strange sight to see a
goat run bleating to the hut out of which crawls a fat brown baby, over
whom the animal rejoices as if it were her own, lying down contentedly
to allow it to drink, until, thoroughly satisfied, the child retires to
sleep, and the goat trots off to pasture, returning again to her charge
in a few hours.
Amongst Christian families Sesuto names are always given to the children
at the time of their birth, although, when old enough, they are taken to
the missionary to be baptized, the name then chosen being generally a
Biblical one. The Basuto also bestow what they consider suitable Sesuto
names upon the Europeans and their children living in the country.
Now that education is procurable in the country, the children are sent
off to school as soon as they are old enough to master the alphabet.
Many of them are bright, clever little creatures, and keenly interested
in their studies, with often quite as much ability as the ordinary
European child of the same age, but, as a rule, they can only be
educated up to a certain point. When one reaches that one comes, as it
were, to a blank wall. There seems to be no further brain power to
develop, and, if forced to continue his studies, the youth will become
sullen, stupid, and intensely trying to one's patience. This applies to
them in all "walks of life"--in domestic work, in carpentry, masonry,
etc. The girls are good, honest, nice-tempered servants, capable of
becoming fairly efficient in all household work, and especially good as
nurses, being devoted to their little charges, who, as a rule, have a
great affection for them in return; but one has to realise at once that
one must limit one's expectations, and be content with something
considerably less than perfection. Their wonderful honesty, on the other
hand, is a strong point in their favour. I have lived ten years in the
country, and have only had two dishonest servants during that period.
All church services have a great attraction for them, whether heathen or
baptized Christians, and they will go long distances to attend
"service," on week days as well as Sundays. They are a musical race, and
pick up the airs of the hymns and chants with wonderful celerity,
learning to sing in parts as easily as though they had been trained to
do so for generations. Many of them have beautiful voices. In church
they are very devout, and would put to shame many a civilised
congregation. Of course, there are many cases of hypocritical
devoutness, but is that to be wondered at in a nation barely in touch
with civilisation? and, if we look nearer home, are we in a position to
criticise? I fancy not. It is, I admit, a little irritating to come
across a self-opinionated, intensely consequential young Mosuto, who
evidently thinks his fellow-creatures the coarsest pottery as compared
with his own superfine eggshell china self, but another generation of
civilisation will show them more clearly where they stand.
The Basuto method of carrying news is as follows. In certain villages,
at considerable distances apart, there are men whose business it is to
act as "criers," because they possess the art of throwing their powerful
voices through long distances. In each district, certain spots are
selected from which to call. These spots are chosen because of their
natural advantages. When any important news has to be sent through the
country, a "crier," or Mohale or a Marumo, as he is called (literally
"the brave man of the assegai"), goes to the top of one of these chosen
places, and shouts his news to the village in the distance, where dwells
the next "crier." It is desirable to call at night, as the voice carries
so much more distinctly. Crier No. 2, on hearing the voice, listens,
perhaps asks a question or two, and then sets off at a trot to the next
spot, from whence he calls to Crier No. 3, and so on. In this way the
news travels with astonishing rapidity. Long distances are covered in a
few hours. News of battle is never sent until after sunset. During the
fighting in Natal and in the Stormberg, the Basuto invariably heard of
any big engagement before we did, though we were possessed of
telegraphic communication. Of course, I am only referring here to South
Basutoland. As far as I know, our headquarters was all along in direct
communication with the Generals, and probably received information
before other parts of the country.
Often in the evenings, when there is, for South Africa, a great
stillness over all, the silence will be broken by the call of one human
voice to another. It is by no means unmusical, and there is nothing
harsh about it. Somehow the sound seems fitted to the scene, part of the
weird strangeness of one's surroundings. I wish my pen were gifted
enough to describe it properly, so as to bring the picture before
you--the dim twilight; the cool after the great heat of the day; the
tiny blinking fires here and there on the dark, frowning mountains from
numberless hamlets; the voice of nature hushed to a dreamy murmur; then
the deep drawn-out call from one village to another, arousing countless
echoes from the kloofs below, or the steady rise and fall of many
voices chanting in the minor key some favourite heathen song as the
singers sit round their homes in the refreshing coolness of a Basutoland
summer night. One is filled with a great wonder. Life and oneself seem
so little, the world so vast, and eternity the vastness beyond all
words.
People living in such a country are naturally emotional, and very
impressionable, with a firm belief in the supernatural. Their music,
too, if such it can be called, is in the minor key, though even that
does not have a lastingly depressing effect upon them. They are just
like big, undisciplined children, full of "moods" and impulses, and
easily influenced by kindness.