Tuys orders me to remain in camp during the celebration--I visit the
royal kraal--Feasting, dancing, and combats to the death--Butchery of
young women--Buno and Tuys wrestle for gold--How Tuys became rich--A
"legal execution" in Swaziland--The unfaithful wife expiates her
sin--How Tuys shoots--Father gathers information by mental suggestion.
I finally returned to our camp much upset by the orgy of slaughter and
sorry that I had forced Tuys to take me with him on this trip. He
remained with Buno until time for supper and then came into camp to
eat. I noticed that, although he was ordinarily a big eater, Tuys had
little appetite that night. However, he drank quite heavily and left
soon after dusk with a number of bottles of gin. As he went he advised
me to remain in camp.
"You are not used to this country, lad," he said, roughly but kindly.
"To-night there will be a big celebration and much drunkenness. When
the king is drinking he is likely to be careless and things may happen
that you would not like to remember. You stay in camp and I'll be back
before long."
I promised Tuys to do as he asked, in spite of the fact that I was
very curious to see what might take place. As night came on hundreds
of fires were lighted and I could hear the Swazis beginning to sing.
Every now and then shouts reached us, and there seemed to be every
indication that it would be a wild night. Curiosity impelled me to
send Sibijaan out on a scouting expedition. He was also eaten up with
curiosity, but wanted me to come along. However, I still remembered my
promise to Tuys and would not go.
After a little Sibijaan returned, his eyes wide with excitement.
"Thousands and thousands of warriors are at the royal kraal," he
announced. "There are great fires everywhere and every one is drinking
tswala. The warriors are dancing and the king's fire is the biggest of
all. The witch-doctors are there, too, and are going to make magic
to-night!"
I was intensely interested in all this. It seemed a shame that I was
going to miss it. On second thoughts I decided that I was foolish to
have made the long trek into Zombode if I did not see the whole
celebration. I wanted to be able to tell those at home all about it,
so I decided to sneak out of camp and watch a while.
Playing at war had taught me to hide as much as possible, and soon I
slipped out of the tent and started for the royal kraal. There seemed
to be thousands of natives all about me, each band gathered around a
fire. They were dancing and singing and eating, particularly eating.
The Swazi always eats whenever possible, and a number of cattle had
been slaughtered to provide a feast in honor of Oom Tuys.
I crept closer to the royal kraal and soon could see the glow from the
king's fire. It was surrounded by hundreds of huts and many kraals,
but I managed to get close enough to see the flames. A dense mass of
warriors were on three sides of the fire, and on the other I could
discern Buno and Tuys. All the warriors were dancing and chanting, and
it was an awe-inspiring sight. In a little while the dancing stopped
and two warriors sprang before the king and began to fight. I was
close enough to see their actions and hear the blows when knob-kerrie
struck shield with a hollow thump.
The fight was short. One suddenly fell, struck down with a cunning
blow from his opponent's knob-kerrie, and a second later I saw the
winner stab the prostrate figure again and again with his assegai. A
moment later another pair fought, and this battle ended as did the
other with the death of the loser. There were several more fights,
each ending fatally. At each victory wild shouts would go up from the
bloodthirsty audience. For a small boy it was a thrilling show.
After the last combat there was a pause. Soon the murmuring of the
expectant thousands died down and I felt that they were waiting for
more excitement. A moment later a number of girls, all naked, were led
out from behind the royal hut. They were lined up in front of Buno and
Tuys, and I could see the witch-doctor talking to the king. This
lasted a few minutes and then the former began to dance, doing what
might be called the "Dance of Death."
Suddenly he halted, then dived at one of the girls and threw her
roughly to her knees. The others fell back hurriedly and several
warriors caught hold of the girl and stretched her on the ground.
Another man joined the group and the girl began to shriek, her voice
seeming to echo from hut to hut. It was a shriek of utter despair, and
I could feel myself tremble.
The man stood high above the girl and raised his right hand above his
head. I could see the flash of steel, for he held a great curved
knife. A moment he stood thus, the girl shrieking all the while. The
crowd seemed to catch its breath and I felt as though I should choke.
Down flashed the knife, and the victim shrieked louder and more
shrilly than ever. It was enough! I turned and fled blindly. I don't
know how I got there, but I blundered into camp shaking like a leaf
and threw myself on my blankets.
Next morning Tuys told me, quite casually, that Buno had entertained
him by having some girls cut open while they still lived. I then knew
that I had not been dreaming. Despite Tuys's advice, I had seen
something I "would not like to remember." Tuys told me of other things
that happened at the celebration, and I am thankful I did not see
them. They cannot be told, but for utter cruelty, cruelty of the most
depraved and bestial kind, they are without equal.
That day only the women were about until nearly noon. The king and his
warriors were sleeping off the debauch of the night before. Shortly
after midday Tuys took me with him to the royal kraal, where we found
Buno showing little evil effects of the orgy. I noticed that Tuys wore
his great leather hunting-coat with wide pockets, and I was surprised
at this because it was a warm day. However, I soon learned the reason.
[Illustration: AN ACTUAL COMBAT IN WHICH THE MAN ON THE LEFT WAS SLAIN
In war the Swazis fight after a method all their own. The opposing
impis, or regiments, draw up on either side of the battlefield and
after much dancing, yelling of battle-cries, and other excitement,
individual warriors dash into the middle-ground challenging individual
opponents from the other side. These meet and fight it out to the
death. The combats are divided into three phases. The first consists
of fighting with the long knob-kerrie; the second, with the short
knob-kerrie; and the final, which is the death blow, with the short
spear]
[Illustration: A TYPE OF DRESS WORN BY THE ROYAL EXECUTIONER]
[Illustration: LOMWAZI, SON AND PRIME MINISTER TO THE OLD QUEEN
He acted as Regent to the Swazi nation]
Buno was very agreeable and even joked with me about my poor shooting
of the day before. He little knew how proud I was that I had shot
badly. Tuys and he were on the best of terms and joked with one
another, each boasting of his strength. Finally Buno ended the
pleasantries with a challenge.
"Let us go to the rock, Oom Tuys," he said, "and we'll soon see who is
the strongest man in Swaziland. This time I know I can throw you, and
you will make small profit out of this trip."
"That remains to be seen, O King," Tuys warned him. "I feel stronger
than ever to-day, but it seems to me that you are quite shaky. Don't
you think you'd better wait a day or two before tackling me?"
"No, no! Now is the time!" declared Buno most emphatically. "If you
cannot wrestle any better than you shot yesterday, I shall have little
trouble in throwing you."
This was all very interesting to me. I felt that I would like to be
big enough to wrestle Buno and break his neck. However, he and Tuys
seemed to be very joyful over the coming match and there was no ill
feeling between them.
After Tuys and Buno had had several drinks, we all started out for the
rock. I had heard of this rock before. It was a great flat-topped slab
on which Buno was accustomed to sleep during the hottest hours of the
day. The Swazis call it "The King's Couch," and Buno would bask on it
while the sun blazed down on his naked body with all the fire of
mid-summer.
Tuys had several of his servants with him, each one carrying a small
but very heavy canvas sack. I asked him what these were, but he told
me to wait and I would see. The rock was about a quarter of a mile
from the royal kraal, and we soon reached it.
Then came the unexpected, which invariably happened where Tuys was
concerned. We climbed upon the rock and while Buno and the rest of us
looked on, Oom Tuys slit the canvas sacks and poured two thousand
sovereigns on the rock!
The gold made quite a large pile and shone brightly in the warm sun.
Tuys counted it, with Buno seeming to keep careful check on him.
Finally the count was finished and they agreed that it was all
there--two thousand glittering gold pieces!
"Now we shall wrestle for it," said Buno, pointing to the gold. "We'll
soon see who is the better man, who is the strongest man in Swaziland.
Come on, Oom Tuys!"
Tuys waved to me to get off the rock, and we jumped down to the
ground. It was, perhaps, the strangest sight I had yet seen. There
stood those two great men, waiting for an opportunity to get a
favorable grip. Presently they began to circle round and round, each
trying to catch hold of the other. The pile of gold lay between them.
Suddenly Buno rushed at Tuys. Tuys stepped to one side and jostled him
as he went by. Without changing position, Tuys reached down and
grabbed up two handfuls of gold. He was shoving it into the pockets of
his leather coat when Buno was upon him. Buno forced him back and
grabbed up some of the gold, which he shoved into his loin-cloth.
They were very strong men and the wrestling was the roughest
imaginable. Each time one gained an advantage he would grab for the
gold. I soon saw that Tuys was getting the better of it. His pockets
were sagging with gold, while Buno, being practically naked, had no
place to store what he was able to seize. The contest finally ended
with both flat on the rock, locked in each other's arms. They tussled
for a time and, as neither could gain the advantage, decided to quit.
Both were exhausted and hardly able to get to their feet. However,
they were the best of friends, although Tuys had most of the gold.
Then I understood the saying among the Boers that Tuys would soon be a
rich man if Oom Paul continued to send him with the monthly payments
to King Buno.
There was only a small celebration that night, although Tuys spent the
evening with the king and much gin was drunk. Tuys returned early to
camp and told me that we would visit the Place of Execution the next
day and then return to Rietvlei. I went to sleep full of anticipation.
We broke camp early next morning. I had expected that we would
accompany Buno to the cliff beyond Sheba's Breasts, but Tuys told me
that the king and his impi had left during the night. All Swazis walk
whenever they travel, keeping up a steady pace that covers much
ground. When we started for the Place of Execution, Buno and his
warriors were at least fifteen or twenty miles ahead of us.
Tuys gave orders that our party should camp in the Valley of Heaven
while he and I pushed on and caught up with the king. It was nearly
noon before we saw them climbing the slopes of Sheba's Breasts. There
seemed to be several thousand in the king's party. In a little while,
by hard riding, we caught up with them. There were two full impis, in
their midst a number of naked savages without arms or headdresses. I
asked Tuys about these men.
"They are prisoners," he informed me. "We are going to see them die.
That is why we are climbing these infernal hills. Beyond Sheba's
Breasts we have another mountain to climb and then we shall reach the
Place of Execution. Let's hurry and catch Buno!"
We found the king at the head of his impis, accompanied by several of
the indunas, striding along over ground that gave even our horses
trouble. He greeted Tuys affectionately as usual and had a pleasant
word for me.
Tuys asked him why the prisoners were going to be executed.
"They have had their trial," he said, "and they are all guilty. They
must die! I have said it!"
That seemed to settle the matter, and I asked Tuys about the trial and
how it had taken place. From his long and intimate acquaintance with
Swaziland and its customs he was able to tell me all I needed to know.
"Every moon there is a court at Zombode," he informed me. "The indunas
are the jury and decide whether the prisoner is guilty or not.
Prisoners are brought before them charged with stealing, non-payment
of debts, disloyalty to the king, and countless other things,
including witchcraft. When the indunas have heard a case they bring in
a verdict of guilty or innocent, and then the king passes sentence. My
friend, Buno, always decides that death is the proper punishment, and
allows the person bringing the charge to take the possessions of the
prisoner after he has had first pick. Many of those who will be
executed to-day would only receive a whipping if they were in our
country, instead of Swaziland. But Buno has no sympathy with
law-breakers and I think he rather enjoys the executions."
After passing Sheba's Breasts we went down a steep trail to a little
valley, and then climbed the sharp ascent to the Place of Execution.
From the Breasts to the top of the cliff is almost a two-hour trek. On
the top is a small plateau. From this to the bottom is a sheer drop of
more than five hundred feet. At the bottom is a short slope of broken
rock.
The impis were drawn up in column facing the edge, with Buno and his
indunas in front. We had left our horses at the top of the trail and
now joined the king's party. After pacing up and down for a few
moments Buno turned and addressed his warriors. He told them that the
prisoners had forfeited their lives on account of their wickedness and
it was only just that they should die. He ended in this fashion:
"But the king is merciful. These jackals ought to be killed by
torture. Instead, I, Buno the King, have decreed that they shall die
after the time-honored custom of our people!"
While he spoke I watched the prisoners. There were about forty of
them, and every one held his head high, as though not afraid to die.
Each bore himself proudly, more like a victor than one about to die a
fearful death.
When Buno had finished there was a slight stir among them and one was
left standing alone. With his eyes straight in front of him, his body
erect, he walked swiftly forward. In a second he had reached the edge.
Throwing up his arms, he leaped forward and was gone!
One after another the others followed. There was no hesitation, no
drawing back. It was terrible, yet glorious! These savages, with no
promise of a here-after which included a Valhalla or Heaven, went to
their death like heroes.
When the last one had gone the silent tension was broken by the
rustling of shields and shuffling of feet. The king then felt impelled
to make another address. He had got as far as, "Thus do I, the king,
destroy the enemies of my people--" when there came a violent
commotion and a woman's cry.
Through the warriors dashed a young and handsome woman. She wore
nothing, and in that brief moment I could see from the lines in her
face that she had suffered much.
Tuys and the king leaped forward to intercept her, but were too late.
She threw up her hands with a shriek and went over the edge!
Tuys and I were much excited by this, but Buno and his indunas seemed
to be rather annoyed. Buno explained that women had done this before
and seemed to regard their action as a desecration of the Place of
Execution. After many questions Tuys found out all about it and
explained to me.
"This was new to me," he said, as we climbed down from the cliff, "and
I thought I knew all there was to know about the Swazis. But I never
before heard about women throwing themselves off the Place of Execution.
"Mzaan Bakoor, this is how it is. You know the Swazis are very strict
with their women. If a wife, no matter if she be one of thirty or
forty wives, has anything to do with any man but her husband, her life
is forfeited. Also the child, if there be one, must die. If there is
no child, she dies alone. It is the husband's right to kill the
unfaithful wife. If he does so, no one has anything to say and he is
not held for murder. But he can do worse than kill his wife. He can
refuse to kill her, and then she becomes an outcast and the prey of
any one. She may even be killed by her people, for there have been
cases where Swazi women have killed an unfaithful wife when the
husband refused to slay her.
"Always, if she can escape, the woman will take to the hills. There
her condition is as bad as it can be. She has to live on berries and
what game she can catch, and her life is miserable. She is an outcast,
and men who are caught going to her in the hills share her degradation.
"This woman who died to-day was the youngest wife of a little chief
who refused to kill her when he found that she was faithless. She
escaped to the hills some weeks ago and lived the life of a hunted
beast. Finally she must have made up her mind to end it all. It is
fortunate for her that she had not been taught by the missionaries
that she had a soul!"
That is the moral code of Swaziland. In all the years I have known the
Swazis I have never heard of its being broken without the death
penalty. However, civilization will some day reach into Swaziland and
then this code will disappear. That will be the end of the Swazis.
We reached camp to find the long shadows of the setting sun dropping
across the Valley of Heaven. Buno bade Tuys an affectionate farewell
and the impis gave us the royal salute as they started up the hill for
Lebombo.
This was the first time I saw King Buno, and he left me memories that
nothing can ever efface. I saw him again next year and was in Lebombo
when he died and Queen Labotsibeni was appointed regent.
Nothing much happened on our return journey to the Valley of Reeds,
except that Oom Tuys showed me how he could shoot. During the second
day's trek we ran up on the high veldt for a space and jumped some
springbok. They sprang up suddenly out of the brown grass, as they
always do, and went off like a streak of light.
After one or two had escaped, Tuys told me to kill the next.
"Let's see if you can shoot like a Boer," he said, bantering me.
"Let's see if you would starve to death if you were lost on the veldt!"
A few moments later I had my chance. My Mauser rested across my saddle
when the antelope jumped, and a second later I blazed away. I made
three perfectly clean misses. Looking back, I realize that the heavy
military rifle was too much for me--it was too weighty.
Tuys said: "Poor Mzaan Bakoor, you will die hungry. Now watch me get
the next!"
And he did. His rifle was in its sheath, barrel under his leg and
stock alongside the pommel of the saddle. I never saw quicker action.
The unlucky springbok seemed to rise with the motion of Tuys's arm as
he snapped his Mauser out of its case to his shoulder, all in one
motion. On its fourth or fifth jump the antelope met the dum-dum
bullet and dropped. Its back was broken and the knife did the rest.
"That is the way a Boer shoots!" Tuys boasted. "If you miss your meat,
you go hungry. Your rifle must follow the springbok when he jumps, and
you get him at the top of his leap. He cannot change direction in the
air and you pull your trigger softly so that your aim is not broken.
If you jerk, as you did a minute ago, you miss. Remember that, lad!"
As we rode into Rietvlei on the last day Tuys gave me a serious
talking to. He was worried over what I had seen at Lebombo.
"You know that we have seen some things at Buno's kraal that must not
be told," he cautioned me. "The British, and even our own people,
would be much excited if they heard that you had given a rifle to
Buno. They would hold you and me accountable for the men he killed in
the shooting match. Also, they would ask many questions about the
women who were killed that night I made you stay in camp. They would
think that the gin we gave Buno made him do these things, and we would
have much trouble.
"You must not know anything about these things. When you tell about
your trip, you must only tell things that will not make trouble. If
you don't, I will never take you with me again. What's more, I'll tell
Buno, and he will kill you if you ever go to Swaziland again!
"Slim Gert will ask you questions, and your mother, too. If any of
your brothers are at home, they will want to know about your trip. Now
remember, you must only tell the things that are safe to tell."
He also advised me to threaten Sibijaan with everything under the sun
if he talked too much. His own servants he was not afraid of--they had
been with him before and knew what would happen to them if they
talked. I told Sibijaan what to expect if he talked, and he promised
to tell nothing. He kept his promise about as well as might have been
expected of a kaffir.
Mother and father were at home when we reached Rietvlei, and were very
glad to see me back. I was glad to again look out on the peaceful
green fields of our wonderful farm, but keenly disappointed that I
dared not give a true account of our adventures. It was some story for
a small boy to have to bottle up!
After supper my father sent for me, and I went to his office in the
wing of the house which he used for administrative work. I had my
doubts about the interview that I knew was about to take place,
because my father has a way of getting the truth when he wants it. He
is not known as "Slim Gert" for nothing.
On the top of his desk lay a sjambok, or rawhide whip. It caught my
eye and he saw me look at it.
"Now, son, tell me about your trip," he said. "What did you see? What
happened? Yesterday a Swazi came here and said that Buno had made a
celebration for Tuys and you." As he asked the question his keen eyes
searched my soul.
I was in an awful pickle. If I told the truth, Tuys would be my enemy
for life. If I lied to my father, he would never forgive me and I'd
hate myself forever! The cruel whip did not enter into my
calculations, because my father never struck us. It could not concern
me.
I hesitated for a moment only and then sacrificed my further chances
of going with Oom Tuys to Swaziland. I told the truth. Father listened
and seemed to be checking up what I said. He asked one or two
questions which refreshed my memory, and I told him everything.
"Thank you for so accurate an account, son," he said, when I had
finished. "I wanted to be sure that what I had heard was so. Sibijaan
was here a little while ago and--" He picked up the whip and tossed it
into a drawer.
Next day I saw Sibijaan. I asked him why he had told father about the
killings at Lebombo.
"Ou Baas holds the sjambok in his hand when he talks to me," he said
quite simply. "He knew lots about Lebombo already. I'd sooner be
killed by Oom Tuys some day than by your father now. I could not lie
to Ou Baas."
Neither could I, but nevertheless I upbraided Sibijaan for breaking
the promise he had made to me that he would not tell about our trip.
In fact, I consoled myself for losing my further chances of visiting
Swaziland with Oom Tuys by giving Sibijaan a good beating.
He could fight, but was not as strong as I, and the thrashing made no
difference in our friendship. Of course the fight took place in
private; it would never have done to let our impi know that we had
fallen out for even a moment.
Later I found out that father had received some pointed enquiries from
the government in regard to Oom Tuys's activities in Swaziland. He
wanted to know first hand, if possible, what the "White King of
Swaziland" really did when he made his periodical trips to Buno's
kraal. The information, however, was only for his own benefit, since
he would not betray one of our people.
A month later Oom Tuys stopped at Rietvlei as usual before making his
regular trip to Lebombo. That night I was with father when he sat
talking with him. I feared that father would ask questions about our
trip, but he approached the subject in quite another way.
"I have heard from various kaffirs that your last trip to Swaziland
was a bad business," he said to Tuys. "The government also has asked
me about it. Of course I know nothing, since you have told me
nothing," and he eyed Tuys keenly.
"They say it was a bad business?" Tuys remarked in a blustering way.
"Well, they don't know what they're talking about! Buno was only happy
to receive the tribute and he may have taken a little too much gin.
That's about all there was to it. Who the devil are those busybodies
who don't mind their own business?"
Then he looked at me, but I met him eye to eye. I had expected the
encounter and was ready for him. Father, however, realizing the
situation, began talking again.
"Kaffirs will lie," he said, "and there have been a number of Swazis
here during the last month. Of course I don't believe them, but some
of the officials who have to create work to hold their jobs have been
asking questions."
"Tell them to go to Swaziland and find out," said Tuys, laughing
heartily. "They daren't go. If they did, they'd never come back. Buno
would answer them, and they wouldn't worry about making any
long-winded reports when he had done with them!"
Tuys knew that he was the only white man who dared enter Swaziland
then. He also knew that the stories told by kaffirs did not carry much
weight and would never be accepted for action by the government.
"It would be well, Tuys," father said at the end of the talk, "if you
would induce Buno not to make so much noise when he gives his next
party in your honor. His hospitality is too bloody to be healthy for
either you or him."
Tuys did not question me about the matter when he saw me alone next
morning. He evidently refused to entertain the thought that I might
have betrayed him. If I had not met his eye the night before, however,
he would have been sure I was guilty. He did not comment on the
matter, and I know now that, in his daredevil way, he did not lose any
sleep over it. In those days, too, it must be remembered that it did
not cause much stir when a native chief killed a few of his followers.
It was much more serious if he killed the men of another chief, since
this might mean war and wars were always disturbing.
Tuys had nothing to say on his return from Swaziland, but it must have
been a successful trip for I saw him hand my father a heavy canvas
sack to put in his safe until morning. He must have done well in the
royal wrestling match.