VISIT TO MAKABA.
Shortly after his return, and pending the final arrangements for the
removal of the missionary station, it was considered advisable that
Robert Moffat should pay his long promised visit to Makaba, the chief of
the Bangwaketsi. He left on the 1st of July, 1824, and was accompanied
by a large party of Griquas, who were going into that region to hunt
elephants.
Skirting the edge of the Kalahari desert for some time they afterwards
deviated from their course through want of water, and visited Pitsana,
where a great concourse of natives had gathered, consisting of the
different sections of the Barolong tribe, who had been driven from their
country the previous year during the invasion of the Mantatees. Thence
they proceeded onward till they reached Kwakwe, the residence of Makaba
and his people, and the metropolis of the Bangwaketsi. Here the
missionary was most favourably received by the king, who remarked, with
a laugh, "That he wondered they should trust themselves, unarmed, in the
town of such a _villain_ as he was reported to be."
He entertained Moffat and his party royally, declaring, "My friends, I
am perfectly happy; my heart is whiter than milk, because you have
visited me. To-day I am a great man. You are wise and bold to come and
see with your own eyes, and laugh at the testimony of my enemies."
Moffat tried on several occasions to converse with the chief and his
people on Divine things, but apparently with little success. At length
on the Sabbath he resolved to pay Makaba a formal visit, so as to obtain
a hearing for the subject. He found the monarch seated among a large
number of his principal men, all engaged either preparing skins, cutting
them, sewing mantles, or telling news.
[Illustration: NATIVES SEWING.]
Sitting down beside him, and amidst his nobles and counsellors, Moffat
stated that his object was to tell him news. The missionary spoke of
God, of the Saviour, but his words fell upon deaf ears. One of the men
sitting near, however, seemed struck with the character of the Redeemer,
and especially with His miracles. On hearing that He had raised the
dead, the man said, "What an excellent doctor He must have been to raise
the dead." This led to a description of His power, and how that power
would be exercised at the last day in the Resurrection. The ear of the
monarch caught the sound of a resurrection from the dead, "What," he
exclaimed in astonishment, "What are these words about? the dead, the
dead arise!"
"Yes, all the dead shall arise."
"Will my father arise?"
"Yes, your father will arise."
"Will all the slain in battle arise?"
"Yes."
"And will all that have been killed and devoured by lions, tigers,
hyenas, and crocodiles again revive?"
"Yes; and come to judgment."
"And will those whose bodies have been left to waste and to wither on
the desert plains and scattered to the winds again arise?" asked the
king, with a kind of triumph, as though this time he had fixed the
missionary.
"Yes!" answered he, with emphasis; "not one will be left behind."
After looking at his visitor for a few moments, Makaba turned to his
people, saying in a stentorian voice: "Hark, ye wise men, whoever is
among you, the wisest of past generations, did ever your ears hear such
strange and unheard-of news?"
Receiving an answer in the negative, he laid his hand upon Moffat's
breast and said, "Father, I love you much. Your visit and your presence
have made my heart as white as milk. The words of your mouth are sweet
as honey, but the words of a resurrection are too great to be heard. I
do not wish to hear again about the dead rising! The dead cannot arise!
The dead must not arise!"
"Why," inquired the missionary, "can so great a man refuse knowledge and
turn away from wisdom? Tell me, my friend, why I must not add to words
and speak of a resurrection?"
Raising and uncovering his arm which had been strong in battle, and
shaking his hand as if quivering a spear, he replied, "I have slain my
thousands, and shall they arise!"
"Never before," adds Mr. Moffat in his _Missionary Labours_, "had the
light of Divine revelation dawned upon his savage mind, and of course
his conscience had never accused him, no, not for one of the thousands
of deeds of rapine and murder which had marked his course through a long
career."
Starting homewards, the Griqua hunting party, for some altogether
unexplained reason, announced their intention of returning with the
missionary instead of remaining behind to hunt; a most providential
circumstance, which in all probability saved the lives of Moffat and his
followers and many more besides.
A few hours after leaving Makaba, messengers met the returning company
from Tauane, the chief of the Barolongs, asking the help of the
missionary party as he was about to be attacked by the Mantatees. On
reaching Pitsana they found that such was the case. The attack was made
and repelled by the Griquas, about twenty in number, mounted and armed
with guns; and thus the town was saved, the flight of its inhabitants
into the Kalahari desert, there to perish of hunger and thirst,
prevented, and the safety of Robert Moffat and his companions secured.
The time during which Moffat had been absent from Lattakoo, had been a
most anxious one for his wife and those who remained at the station. A
band of marauders had gathered in the Long Mountains, about forty miles
to the westward, and after attacking some villages on the Kuruman, had
threatened an attack on the Batlaping and the mission premises. The
dreaded Mantatees were also reported to be in the neighbourhood. One
night when Mary Moffat was alone with her little ones and the two
Bushmen children, Mr. Hamilton and the assistants being away at the new
station, a loud rap came at the door, and inquiring who was there,
Mothibi himself replied. He brought word that the Mantatees were
approaching.
A hasty message was sent to Mr. Hamilton, who arrived about eight
o'clock in the morning when preparations were made for flight.
Messengers continued to arrive, each bringing tidings that caused fresh
alarm, until about noon, when it was ascertained that the fierce and
savage enemy had turned aside and directed their course to the
Barolongs.
The station was safe, but the loving heart of the missionary's wife was
torn with anguish, as she foresaw that the dreaded Mantatees would be
crossing her husband's path just at the time when he, almost alone, was
returning on his homeward way.
Prayer was the support of Mary Moffat under this terrible ordeal, and
the way prayer was answered has been seen, in the unaccountable manner
in which Berend Berend and his party of Griquas changed their minds and
resolved upon returning with Robert Moffat, instead of remaining to hunt
elephants in the country of the Bangwaketsi.
The remainder of the year 1824 witnessed bloodshed and strife all
around. War among the Bechwanas, attacks by the marauders of the Long
Mountains, commotions among the interior tribes: the land was deluged
with blood; even the warlike Bangwaketsi were dispersed, and Makaba was
killed. Once again the missionaries had to flee with their families to
Griqua Town, leaving Mr. Hamilton, as he was without family in charge of
the new station, with two horses ready for flight in case of danger.
The end of the year found the Kuruman missionaries,--who now consisted
of Robert and Mary Moffat, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, and Mr. Hamilton,--with
the exception of the last named, at Griqua Town.
The new station at the Kuruman had been occupied shortly before the
departure of the fugitives; and early in 1825, finding that the
immediate danger had passed, the Moffats, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs.
Hughes, rejoined Mr. Hamilton. Two events of a distressing character to
the Batlaping and their missionaries occurred about this time. The first
was the passage of two terrible hail-storms over a portion of the
country, destroying the crops, killing lambs, and stripping the bark
from trees. The second was the death of the young prince, Peclu, who had
an excellent disposition, was comparatively enlightened, and whose
influence the missionaries expected would have been most salutary among
his countrymen.
This sorrowful event, combined with a further attack upon the Batlaping
by the marauders, determined Mothibi and his people to leave their
present place of settlement and remove to the eastward. For a
considerable time, however, they remained in an unsettled state,
suffering from attacks, and leading a vagrant life.
The work of laying out the new station was proceeded with. Three
temporary dwellings had already been erected, consisting of a wooden
framework, filled up with reeds, and plastered within and without; the
foundations of more permanent dwellings had also been laid. Mr. Hughes,
who had been to Cape Town for supplies, returned, accompanied by a mason
named Millen and a few Hottentot assistants from Bethelsdorp. The
company at the station was a large one, and to provide them with food
was a work of difficulty.
The Kuruman fountain, the source of the Kuruman river, issues from
caverns in a little hill. It was the purpose of the missionaries to lead
the water from the river to irrigate their gardens. For this purpose a
trench was cut two miles in length. This was a work of great labour and
was attended by considerable danger. It was found necessary that the men
when working should have their guns with them, in case of being
surprised by the robbers who roved about. Moffat says, "it was dug in
troublous times."
Sickness and death entered the missionary dwellings. An infant son was
born to the Moffats, and five days after called away. Mr. Hughes was
laid low through a severe cold, and brought to the gates of death. When
all hope seemed to have vanished he began to amend, though his health
was not restored until he and Mrs. Hughes made a journey to the Cape. In
1827 he left Kuruman and removed to the Griqua Mission. The mother of
Mary Moffat died in October, 1825, but the news did not reach her
daughter in Africa until April, 1826.
Referring to this time Robert Moffat says: "Our situation during the
infancy of the new station, I shall not attempt to describe. Some of our
newly arrived assistants, finding themselves in a country where the
restraints of law were unknown, and not being under the influence of
religion, would not submit to the privations which we patiently endured,
but murmured exceedingly. Armed robbers were continually making inroads,
threatening death and extirpation. We were compelled to work daily at
every species of labour, most of which was very heavy, under a burning
sun, and in a dry climate, where only one shower had fallen during the
preceding twelve months. These are only imperfect samples of our
engagements for several years at the new station, while at the same
time, the language, which was entirely oral, had to be acquired."
Notwithstanding all the impediments to such an enterprise, Robert Moffat
had made some progress towards establishing a literature in the native,
or Sechwana tongue. A spelling-book, catechism, and some small portions
of Scripture had been prepared, and sent to the Cape to be printed, in
1825. Through a mistake, these were unfortunately sent on to England,
causing much disappointment and delay.
Things settled down somewhat in 1826. The discontented Hottentots
returned to the Colony, leaving the missionaries and Mr. Millen to carry
on the work of laying out the station, erecting the buildings, and the
other manual labour connected with the undertaking, assisted only by
such poor help as they could get from the Bechwanas.
The native population at the station had been much reduced. Such of the
Batlaping as had not moved away, had settled down about the Kuruman
valley. They did not oppose the Gospel, but they appeared quite
indifferent to it.
For several years the country had been parched through drought, but
early in 1826 rain fell plentifully. The earth was soon covered with
verdure, but the bright prospects of abundance were quickly cut off.
Swarms of locusts infested the land, and vegetation was entirely
destroyed. This led to great scarcity, and although the natives caught
and ate the locusts, hunger and suffering prevailed. The missionaries'
cattle could not be let out of sight, or they were instantly stolen. One
day two noted fellows from the mountains pounced down upon a man who had
charge of some oxen. They murdered the man and made off with an ox.
To become proficient in the Sechwana language was the earnest purpose of
Robert Moffat. At the end of the year 1826, having moved into his new
dwelling, built of stone, and the state of the country being somewhat
more tranquil, he left his home and family, to sojourn for a time among
the Barolongs, so that he might live exclusively with the natives and
attend to their speech.
He made the journey by ox-waggon, and was accompanied by the
waggon-driver, a boy, and two Barolongs who were journeying to the same
place as himself. The dangers attending these journeyings from tribe to
tribe were by no means imaginary, the following, related in Moffat's own
words, serving as an illustration of some of the perils often
encountered:
"The two Barolongs had brought a young cow with them, and though I
recommended their making her fast as well as the oxen, they humorously
replied that she was too wise to leave the waggon, even though a lion
should be scented. We took a little supper, which was followed by our
evening hymn and prayer. I had retired only a few minutes to my waggon
to prepare for the night, when the whole of the oxen started to their
feet. A lion had seized the cow only a few steps from their tails, and
dragged it to the distance of thirty or forty yards, where we distinctly
heard it tearing the animal and breaking its bones, while its bellowings
were most pitiful. When these were over, I seized my gun, but as it was
too dark to see half the distance, I aimed at the spot where the
devouring jaws of the lion were heard. I fired again and again, to which
he replied with tremendous roars, at the same time making a rush towards
the waggon so as exceedingly to terrify the oxen. The two Barolongs
engaged to take firebrands and throw them at him so as to afford me a
degree of light that I might take aim. They had scarcely discharged them
from their hands when the flames went out, and the enraged animal rushed
towards them with such swiftness, that I had barely time to turn the gun
and fire between the men and the lion. The men darted through some thorn
bushes with countenances indicative of the utmost terror. It was now the
opinion of all that we had better let him alone if he did not molest us.
"Having but a scanty supply of wood to keep up a fire, one man crept
among the bushes on one side of the pool, while I proceeded for the same
purpose on the other side. I had not gone far, when looking upward to
the edge of the small basin, I discerned between me and the sky four
animals, whose attention appeared to be directed to me by the noise I
made in breaking a dry stick. On closer inspection I found that the
large round, hairy-headed visitors were lions, and retreated on my hands
and feet towards the other side of the pool, when coming to my
waggon-driver, I found him looking with no little alarm in an opposite
direction, and with good reason, as no fewer than two lions with a cub
were eyeing us both, apparently as uncertain about us as we were
distrustful of them. We thankfully decamped to the waggon and sat down
to keep alive our scanty fire, while we listened to the lion tearing and
devouring his prey. When any of the other hungry lions dared to approach
he would pursue them for some paces with a horrible howl, which made our
poor oxen tremble, and produced anything but agreeable sensations to
ourselves. We had reason for alarm, lest any of the six lions we saw,
fearless of our small fire, might rush in among us."
[Illustration: BAROLONG WOMEN.]
From these dangers Moffat was mercifully preserved and after journeying
for six days he reached the village of a young chief named Bogachu. At
this place, and at one about twenty miles distant, he lived a
semi-savage life for ten weeks. To use a common expression he "made
himself at home" among them. They were kind and appeared delighted with
his company, especially as when food run scarce, he could take his gun
and shoot a rhinoceros or some other animal, when a night of feasting
and talking would follow.
Every opportunity was embraced by the missionary of imparting Christian
instruction to these people; their supreme idea of happiness, however,
seemed able to rise no higher than having plenty of meat. Asking a man,
who seemed more grave than the rest, what was the finest sight he could
desire, he replied, "A great fire covered with pots full of meat,"
adding, "How ugly the fire looks without a pot"
The object of the journey was fully gained; henceforth Robert Moffat
needed no interpreter; he could now speak and preach to the people in
their own tongue. He found all well on reaching home and prepared to
settle down with a feeling of ability to the work of translation.
The prospects of the mission at this time began to brighten. Several
thousands of the natives had gathered on the opposite side of the
valley, near the mission station. They were becoming more settled in
their minds, and would collect in the different divisions of the town
when the missionaries visited them; the public attendance at the regular
religious services daily increased, and the school was better attended.
No visible signs of an inward change in the natives could yet be seen,
but Moffat and his fellow-workers felt certain that this was not far
off.
War again intervened and darkened the brightening prospects. Once more
the missionaries, after prayerful consideration, felt it necessary to
flee to Griqua Town, suffering much loss of time and of property.
Happily the storm passed over, and, on returning to the Kuruman, they
found their houses, and such property as they had left behind, in good
order, a proof of the influence they were gaining over the once thievish
Bechwanas. Half the oxen and nearly all the cows belonging to the
missionaries were, however, dead, no milk could be obtained, and, worse
than these evils, the people had fled, leaving their native houses but
heaps of ashes.
Sorrowfully these servants of God resolved once more to resume their
labours. A few poor natives had remained at the station, whose numbers
were being increased by others who arrived from day to day.
At this trying time the hearts of Robert Moffat and his companions were
cheered by the arrival of the Rev. Robert Miles, the Society's
superintendent, who, having made himself conversant with the affairs of
the station, suggested the great importance of preparing something like
hymns in the native language. By the continued singing of these, he
stated the great truths of salvation would become imperceptibly written
on the minds of the people.
The suggestion so kindly made was acted upon, and Moffat prepared the
first hymn in the language. The spelling-books also arrived, which
enabled the missionaries to open a school in the Sechwana tongue. Mr.
Miles returned, and the stated labours of the mission were carried
forward. With few interruptions they had been continued for ten years
without fruit. But the dawn of a new era seemed now ready to rise above
the horizon.
Yet again, however, was their faith to be sorely tried by the terrible
scourge--war. The desperadoes consisted this time of a party advancing
from the Orange River, among whom were some Griquas. The suspense and
anxiety were great, but recourse was had to prayer. On this occasion the
missionaries determined to remain at their post. A first attack was
repulsed through the intrepidity of an escaped slave named Aaron
Josephs, and a peaceful interval intervened of about two months, when a
second attack on the mission premises was threatened. By Moffat's
directions, the heights at the back of the station were crowded with
men, to give the appearance of a large defending force, though probably
not a dozen guns could have been mustered among them. The assailants
seeing the preparations for defence, drew up at some distance, and,
after a short delay, sent forward two messengers with a flag of truce.
Moffat went out to meet them, and learned that a renegade Christian
Griqua named Jantye Goeman wished to see him at their camp.
A meeting was arranged half way between the station and the camp, and
Jantye, who was ashamed to let the missionary see his face, as he had
known him at Griqua Town, tried to lay all the blame upon another
renegade, a Coranna chief named Paul, who had, in days gone by,
entertained Robert Moffat and visited his dwelling.
At this moment a waggon was seen approaching, and fearing it might
contain some one from Griqua Town, and seeing that a hostile movement
was made towards it, Moffat turned to Jantye and said, "I shall not see
your face till the waggon and its owners are safe on the station." He
instantly ran off and brought the waggon through, when it was found to
contain the Wesleyan missionaries Mr. and Mrs. Archbell from Platberg.
At last, after much hesitation, Paul himself came near. He could not
look at Moffat, and kept his hat drawn down over his eyes. He told the
missionary that he himself need have no fear, but that revenge should be
had upon the Batlaping who were at Kuruman.
"I shall have their blood and their cattle too," said Paul, as his eyes
glared with fury.
Long and patiently Moffat argued with him, showing him the enormity of
his crimes. At last the victory was won. No shot was fired, and both the
station and the Batlaping were saved. Turning to his men, and referring
to some of the missionary's cattle which had been stolen, he cried,
"Bring back those cows and sheep we took this morning."
It was done. Then he said, "I am going. There are the things of your
people. Will Mynheer not shake hands with me for once?"
"Of course I will," said Moffat, "but let me see your face."
"That I will not, indeed," he replied, "I do not want to die yet. I can
see your face through my hat."
The rude hand of war was henceforth stayed, and the land had peace for
half-a-century, during which time great and happy changes took place at
the Kuruman station.
[Illustration]