A KAFIR PARTY AT THE CHIEF'S KRAAL
It was Christmas Day. In the ideal mid-summer weather, neighbors
and relatives rode over in groups all morning, until the farmhouse
gathering at "Weltefreden" was a large one by the time Petrus reached
home. Aunt Johanna had lengthened the tables until thirty were seated
for the big Christmas dinner, which she and Magdalena together had
prepared. The genuine spirit of hospitality was felt by all. Songs
by Aunt Johanna herself, splendid stories by Uncle Abraham, with
recitations and organ-playing by the children had followed.
There was to be a dance in the evening in honor of Magdalena and
Hercules, and "cross-country" riding parties had been formed for the
afternoon. Aunt Johanna's gift of gracious hospitality always made
Christmas and New Year's Day rare occasions, long to be remembered.
Over at Lieutenant Wortley's a surprise awaited George. With his
"Christmas box" from England had come his beloved Aunt Edith herself.
She could only remain until New Year's Day, but for George's sake
she had taken the long trip to South Africa. It was George's first
Christmas without his dear mother. Aunt Edith was afraid he would
be homesick. As the "tree" was to be a large one, with a dance, and
presents for all, she told George he might invite all his little
friends from Johannesburg and the surrounding farms.
Of course Petrus promised heartily to be there, then added over the
telephone--Boer children and grown-ups, too, can now "call up" their
friends on the telephone just as do our American boys and girls--"come
over this afternoon, George, can't you? Uncle Abraham promised that
I should go to the Kafir children's party--if only for a few minutes.
The Chief's giving the party himself. He always gives his people an
'ox-roasting,' you know, on New Year's Day. It's their 'Ancestral
Meat Feast.' This year, because of Magdalena's wedding, Uncle Abraham
promised him three oxen with which to celebrate. Perhaps that is why he
has invited me to their party. Anyway, I shan't enjoy it without you,
George. Will you come?"
There was a pause. "Aunt Edith says I can go, Koos, if I'm sure to be
back home here before dark--before supper-time. She'll be worried if
I'm not. Are you ready to start now?"
"Yes, George. Ride over on your pony. I'll be waiting for you at the
front stoop on Ferus."
"All right, Petrus," came George's hearty reply, and by the time Petrus
had Ferus up-saddled, George had arrived, and together they started to
the kraals, passing on the way gay parties of Magdalena's friends at
the tennis courts, and others on the croquet lawns, enjoying themselves
in the shade from the orchard trees.
As the Kafir party was to be a very special occasion, with over a
hundred little black children present, elaborate preparations for
several days past had been under way at the Chief's kraal. The older
girls had made fine bead-work, grass and copper-wire bangles for their
wrists, arms, knees, ankles and waists. They softened up the skins of
wild animals and worked them prettily, making leathern aprons to wear.
Most of the girls smeared their bodies over with a fine powdered soft
stone mixed with oil or fat, while nearly all the boys plastered white
paint over themselves, and the little children tattoed their bodies
with pointed sticks, or made circular burns on their arms.
On the morning of the party--Christmas Day--the mothers anxiously
gave a final touch to their children's toilet by a special coating
of grease, and sent the boys off to catch rats, mice and birds with
which to delight their guests' appetites, and instructed all--for the
hundredth time--not to forget to be especially polite to the Chief.
As Petrus' and George's ponies galloped up to the Chief's kraal--or the
"Great Place," as it was called--they could see long strings of gayly
decked little black children all hurrying from the different huts over
to the "Great Place," which was, of course, by far the largest of all
the kraals in the great semi-circle which looked for all the world
like a gigantic fairy-ring of mushrooms with elongated stalks--for
their upright poles reached as much as five feet before their tops were
lashed to the thatched roof, with "monkey-rope."
Arriving at the "Great Place," all the laughing, fat, little black
children swarmed about the narrow doorway, which was but a foot and a
half high, then got down on their hands and knees and crawled in the
kraal.
Petrus and George struggled through after them. Inside, the air was
dense with smoke which made their eyes smart. About the mud-walls
rested bright bunches of assegais, and small stabbing knives were stuck
into the thatch. In single file all the children walked up to the
Chief, by whose side stood the sturdy little "Bull of the Kraal"--or
"Crown Prince" as we might say--and pausing a moment before him,
saluted him with the word: "Bayette!" which means "Great Chief." Then,
discovering Petrus and George, they crowded around them, yelling:
"Azali!" "Azali!" which is just Kafir for "A present! A present!"
Knowing what to expect, Petrus came prepared with a large box of "Candy
Lakkers" which he presented to the little "Bull of the Kraal."
Then came the most important event of the party--the refreshments,
which consisted of such delicate titbits as fried mice, locusts,
mutton, goat, and old hens, which had been roasted over the embers.
After all had been gobbled up, various violent games, such as "Horses,"
"Wolf," and so on, were played by the children. Many of the bigger boys
crawled about frightening the younger ones, pretending to be lions.
Petrus and George, beginning to tire of all this, were about to thank
their kind host, the Chief, for their pleasant afternoon, mount their
ponies and strike out for home. They peered anxiously through the kraal
door to see if their ponies were all right. It was nearly dark. George
looked anxious as he recalled his promise to his Aunt Edith. "We must
go!" he said to Petrus.
"All right, George. I think so, too. Come on. It's late!"
Just at that moment there appeared the "Great Wife," as she was called.
Of all the Chief's many wives she was his favorite--the "wife of his
heart"--and the mother of the little "Bull of the Kraal," who was heir
to the chieftainship.
"Mabiliana" was her name. Petrus and George had long heard of her
beauty. They had heard, too, that five men had been assegaied before
she became the undisputed property of the gallant Chief, who had paid
the large "lobola"[15] of fifty of his fattest oxen for her.
All the pickaninnies hailed her appearance with a great shout of joy.
They crowded about her, clamoring for "A story!" "A story!"
"Just one moment longer, Petrus--just till she begins her story,"
promised George, as Mabiliana gracefully seated herself before the
children who quickly ranged themselves in a circle on the floor about
her feet.
Her dress was in keeping with her beauty. A broad band of blue and
white beads encircled her forehead, while hanging in a gracefully
pendant curve over her eyelids, sparkled another string of the same
white beads giving to her eyes a languid look. About her slender round
throat were negligently hung many more sparkling strings. Bead and
brass bracelets encircled her wrists, arms and slender ankles, where
also was noticed a fringe of monkey's hair, while fastened about her
waist was a little leathern apron, tastefully ornamented with blue, red
and white beads.
"Which shall it be, children? The 'Story of the Shining Princess' or
'Nya-Nya Bulembu,' 'The Fairy Frog,' or 'The Beauty and the Beast'?"
asked Mabiliana, very gracefully taking a pinch of snuff from time to
time.
"The Beauty and the Beast!" shouted all the little blacks with one
voice. That story is a great favorite with Kafir children.
"Then 'The Beauty and the Beast' it shall be," sweetly assented the
young Kafiress.
Mabiliana was really distressed at being urged to tell a fairy-story by
daylight. To do so--according to all Kafir traditions--was to invoke
the wrath of a wicked spirit. Many a beauty had been known to become as
hideous as an "Imbula," or ogre, after that. But rather than refuse the
children, many of whom she loved dearly, Mabiliana decided to tell the
story, then she asked for a piece of glass. Tucking this quickly into
her hair, to ward off the evil, she combed her woolly locks over it,
using the long mimosa thorn which she carried stuck through her ear.
Then carefully replacing the thorn, and, taking a pinch of snuff, she
began her story.
The children listened in breathless, big-eyed silence. Spellbound they
held their breath as the story reached the terrible moment when the
"Mollmeit" appeared--the monster "who killed and ate little girls,
and--"
Outside the loud sound of approaching hoof-beats stopping at the kraal
startled the boys.
"Oh, it's daddy come for me!" whispered conscience-stricken George to
Petrus, as he burst from the kraal into the inky blackness outside,
calling:
"Daddy! Where are you?"
Petrus dashed after him. He heard one terrified shriek, followed by the
thud, thud, thud, of a galloping horse's hoofs--growing fainter and
fainter, then silence, but for the loud cackling and barking of the
hens and dogs.
"George! Where are you? George! George!" frantically called Petrus,
peering through the inky darkness in every direction.
Only the commotion among the fowls and dogs broke the dead silence.
"George! George!" louder called Petrus, in despair.
There came no answer.
Petrus looked about for the ponies. There they were both quietly
standing just where he had left them. Shobo--the Bushboy--rushed up.
"Cluck, cluck, click, click--nhlpr--nh!" he cried out, gesticulating
wildly to Petrus, and pointing far off to the west.
"Oh, my master! My master!" cried Mutla, galloping breathlessly up.
"The Zulu! The Zulu! He got Master George!"
Petrus' foot struck against something hard. He shuddered. There lay
a six-foot long, iron-tipped assegai. One just like it fell into the
flying cart that day. He had it yet. The horrible truth came home to
him--_George was gone!_
"Quick, Ferus!" cried Petrus, springing into the saddle with the
assegai under one arm. Ferus shot over the ground at a slashing pace.
Soon his master was within sight of Lieutenant Wortley's home. The
soft glow of evening lights came from the windows. From one there came
the sparkle of many little candlelights. They were on a tree. Petrus
could see George's Aunt Edith carefully arranging the presents for the
evening party--George's party.
They reached the door. Petrus sprang from Ferus and dashed up the
steps, crying--
"Oh, Lieutenant Wortley! George is gone!"
FOOTNOTES:
[15] Payment in cattle, without which no Kafir marriage was legal.