I visit Swaziland again--Buno's illness--An appeal from the king--The
race against death--Umzulek meets us--The dying king--Buno makes Tuys
guardian of his people--The last royal salute of the impis--The
death-dealing puff-adder--Buno dies like a true savage king--Tzaneen,
the royal widow, suspects murder--The queens meet--Tuys escapes the
funeral sacrifice.
It was about a year later that I made my second trip into Swaziland.
Father was away in Pretoria on business when Tuys arrived at Rietvlei.
Very recently we had heard a rumor that Buno was ill, and I was very
keen to go with Tuys on this trip. I felt sure that my father would
not allow me to, but I knew that my mother could be persuaded to let
me go. I therefore asked Tuys to take me.
"I am almost a man now, Oom Tuys," I said, standing as erect as I
could, "and I want to go with you on your visit to Lebombo. They say
that Buno is sick, but that ought not to make any difference, ought it?"
"Yes, Owen, it makes all the difference in the world," he answered.
"You know what the custom is; if Buno dies, his ten nearest friends
will be sacrificed. I am regarded as his friend and they will want me
to die. Much as I would appreciate the honor, I don't want to die just
yet. If they killed me, they would kill you, too. Do you want to die?"
I frankly confessed that I did not. This explanation of the situation
placed a very different light on it and I was curious to know what
Tuys intended to do. He told me he would wait a day or two before
making up his mind, and I had hopes that some way would be found out
of the difficulty.
Now Buno knew that Oom Tuys would be at Rietvlei about this time. He
nearly always was, as he seldom started his trip from any other place.
Just at sunset, two days later, one of our Mapors ran in and reported
that a small impi of Swazis was coming down the valley.
"I'll wager that is a message from Buno," Tuys said, and we went
indoors to await their arrival. It would not have done for us to be
caught waiting for them. In a little while, when dusk was falling over
the valley, we heard many feet come to a stop on the smooth roadway.
Sibijaan ran in to say that the impi had arrived, and while he spoke
we heard the cries and the thud of feet that marked the royal salute.
Tuys sent one of his bodyguard out to see what was wanted.
"It is a great induna from King Buno," the man reported a moment
later. "He says he comes bearing a royal message to his white brother."
"Tell him that 'The White King' of his country will see him in a
little while," Tuys ordered.
It was almost dark before Tuys decided the "great induna" had waited
long enough to humble his pride. Then he went out; and, of course, I
followed him. No sooner was he framed in the light of the doorway than
the royal salute was repeated. He walked slowly to the gate. There was
the chief patiently waiting for him, his men drawn up behind him, like
so many shapes of darkness barely visible in the night.
"Nkoos, White King of Swaziland," the induna began, "I am the
messenger of King Buno. He sends a message to you."
Then he stopped, awaiting permission to go on.
"Speak!" ordered Tuys.
"Buno, our king, is sick unto death," the chief said, with dramatic
gestures, "He desires that his white brother come to him. By me he
sends word that your life is safe and that he must see you before he
dies!"
Tuys knew that Buno's word was the word of a king and could be relied
upon. He waited only a moment, therefore, and then said tersely:
"I will come. To-morrow's sun will see us on our way." With that he
made the gesture of dismissal. The impi again gave the royal salute
and a second later had departed, swallowed up by the night.
"Get ready, lad," Tuys directed as soon as we entered the house. "At
sunrise to-morrow we start. We travel fast and light, for I must reach
Lebombo before Buno dies!"
I was overjoyed, but immediately my joy was tempered by the thought
that my mother would have to know and might object. Tuys, however,
settled that question for me. He went to her and told her that he
would be responsible for my return safe and sound. Tuys always had a
way with him, and my mother sent for me to tell me that I had her
permission to go.
"However, you must obey Oom Tuys better this time," she warned me. "I
know that you were disobedient on the trip last year and ran the risk
of being killed. You may go only if you promise me that you will obey
Tuys."
Naturally, I promised. I would have done more than that if it had been
necessary, for I was wild to accompany Tuys this time. With Buno
possibly dying there would be wonderful things to see, I felt sure. I
was not disappointed, as it turned out.
At dawn the next morning we were on our way. We had about the same
equipment as before, except that I rode a bigger and faster horse and
four speedy mules were harnessed to our light wagon, instead of six.
Sibijaan drove the mules and swung his sjambok without mercy. For once
he was not called down for beating the mules.
As Tuys predicted, we traveled fast. The induna and his impi had left
Rietvlei during the night and started back toward Lebombo. We caught
up with them during the afternoon. They were hitting a smart pace,
with the induna in the lead. His plumes appeared to mark the cadence
of their steps and they must have been making better than six miles an
hour.
"Is the way prepared for us?" Tuys asked the chief. "Does the king
expect me? Are his men waiting for me?"
"Nkoos, the king waits!" the induna replied most impressively. "He
bade me to tell you to hurry. The king dies, and must see you before
he goes to the caves."
This seemed to satisfy Oom Tuys, so that he sent home the spurs and we
all broke into a new burst of speed. The road was rough, and I would
look back now and then to see Sibijaan swaying to and fro as he jerked
up the mules and cut them with his sjambok. Tuys's boys, or servants,
with the exception of his bodyguard, ran beside the wagon, holding to
it to help them over the ground.
Tuys seemed possessed with the idea that Buno was really dying, and
our trip became a race with death. It was very exciting. Down through
the Valley of Heaven we ran, past kraals from which the Swazis tumbled
out to gaze in wonder at us. Several indunas, knowing that Tuys was
due on his monthly trip, tried to halt us to offer tswala or food, but
Tuys would throw them a word and press on. This was on our second
day's trek. On the first night we had stopped shortly before midnight,
and then only to give our horses and mules some much needed rest.
By the end of the second day both animals and men were pretty well
exhausted, so we camped a little earlier. We were up at dawn, and Tuys
estimated that we would reach Lebombo by noon. During that last
night's camp a small band of witch-doctors stopped to talk to Tuys. It
seemed that they had received word that Buno was dying and were going
to Lebombo to be in at his death, so to speak.
"Vultures! Carrion-eaters! That's what they are," Tuys remarked to me
with disgust. "They are going to Lebombo so that they will be there to
bury the king, if he dies. I wish Buno would fool them!"
As before, we passed Queen Labotsibeni's kraal at Zombode. This time
there were only women and children there. All the indunas and warriors
had gone on to Lebombo. Tuys asked a curious woman how this was.
"Yesterday, O Nkoos, the command came from the king that all warriors
should go to Lebombo," she explained. "None but messengers remain, and
these are now going on to tell that you are near." While she spoke we
saw a small band of warriors swiftly running up the trail ahead. In a
moment they had passed the turn of the road and were gone. In the
brief glimpse I had of them I saw that they wore the broad white band
that denotes a "king's messenger" in Swaziland.
We pushed on. Tired as our animals were, we made good time, though not
good enough to catch up with the messengers.
As our party came round the bend into sight of Lebombo, we found three
indunas and more than a thousand warriors of the king's own impis
waiting for us. They were lined up on either side of the road and gave
us the royal salute as we passed between them. We did not halt, and
these splendid warriors formed behind us and trotted along as our
escort. It was a wonderful sight. Their nodding plumes and bizarre
shields, with here and there the flash of sunlight from an assegai,
made a stirring picture.
While yet some distance away I could see that there was an army
gathered about the royal kraal. There seemed to be tens of thousands
of warriors, all more or less in formation. When we came closer, a
number of indunas ran forward to meet us and Umzulek, a brother of
Buno, led us to the king. On each side of the roadway where the
infamous shooting match had taken place the year before were solid
lines of warriors, three and even four deep. As we passed up the line,
impi after impi gave the royal salute.
Except for the exclamations of the warriors and the stamp of their
feet, there was a strange silence. There seemed to be an air of
foreboding, as though all were waiting for something they dreaded.
We dismounted at the king's hut. Tuys motioned me to come with him,
and we stooped and went in. For a moment we could see nothing in the
dim light. My first impression was that the hut was filled with people
and was stifling hot.
Then I saw the king stretched out on some mats, with his head propped
up on a small block of wood. He was very changed. His great body was
gaunt, his face haggard, and his eyes shone with the fire of fever.
Buno gazed fixedly at Tuys for a moment and then weakly raised his
hands in salute.
"Welcome, Nkoos, white brother of the king," he said in a thin old
voice. "Welcome, white king of my people! I knew you would come. You
are a true friend!"
Even in the dim light I could see that Tuys was moved. He fumbled his
great beard and finally began to speak.
"Come closer, Nkoos," came the royal command. "Send my indunas away. I
would speak with you alone."
Tuys motioned to the indunas to go, and they filed out. Then Buno saw
me:
"Welcome, little induna," he said, his voice seeming even fainter.
"Welcome, Mzaan Bakoor! You are my friend, too. You must remain with
Oom Tuys and me, for I have a request to make that you shall inherit
from him when he is gone."
Tuys and I sat close to Buno, and then I saw how little life was left
in his once powerful body.
"Gin! Give me gin," Buno pleaded. "I must have strength to talk. Give
me gin!"
Tuys poured out a large drink of the fiery liquid and the king choked
it down. He gasped for a moment, and then went on in a stronger voice.
"Nkoos, my white brother," Buno said. "You are not of our people and
therefore cannot die with me. You cannot have the joy and honor of
joining the king in death. For I know now that I am dying. Perhaps I
shall not live to see another sunrise."
I felt that he was right. One so weak and emaciated could not live
long. Undoubtedly Buno was dying.
"But you can serve my people when I am dead," he continued, "by
continuing to be their true friend, just as you have been mine. I
would have you make a paper which would tell all the world that you
are the guardian of the people of Swaziland. When you die you can make
Mzaan Bakoor the guardian. He will be a man then and will care for my
poor people. Swaziland has many enemies--the Boers, the English, the
Zulus, and others. All desire our land. You can prevent them from
taking it. Will you be their guardian when I am gone?"
Tuys met the feverish eyes of the dying monarch and then his deep
voice rumbled. I remember noting how different it was from that of Buno.
"O King, you have spoken!" he answered. "Your word is my command. So
long as I live I shall guard your people and shall protect them from
their enemies!"
"It is well, Nkoos," Buno said, his voice scarce above a whisper. Then
he closed his eyes for a moment and rested. In a little while he asked
for more gin, and then asked Tuys to call the indunas. They filed it
and stood on each side of the recumbent king. There were ten or twelve
of them, all the greatest chiefs in Swaziland. Umzulek, I remember,
stood at Buno's feet.
After a brief silence Buno spoke.
"Indunas, I am dying," he said, his voice again quite clear. "Soon I
shall leave you, never to return. I go to the caves from which none
come back. Until now I have feared to die. I feared that enemies might
bring evil days to Swaziland. Now, however, I go in peace. Oom Tuys,
my friend, has promised to be the friend and guardian of our country
when I am no longer here. He shall protect Swaziland from the whites
and Zulus so long as he lives, and when he is gone, Mzaan Bakoor, who
will be a man then and powerful, will act in his place. O indunas, you
must look to my white brother for help when Swaziland needs it. This
is my command!"
Then he stopped. When Buno said "This is my command!" his illness
seemed to drop away from him and he became the great king again. The
indunas raised their hands in token of acceptance of Buno's command
and then all together said, "The king's word is law!"
For some reason or other I glanced at Umzulek. He made the same motion
as the others, but there was an intangible suggestion of revolt in his
acceptance. I had a sudden feeling that he would make trouble after
Buno was gone.
"Once again I shall see my impis," said Buno, his voice again
weakening. "Each day may be the last, but each day my warriors must
salute their king once more!"
Next came an extraordinary exhibition. All but four of the indunas
went out. Those remaining lifted Buno up--and I noted that they did it
with ease--and half-carried, half-dragged him through the low opening
of the hut to the clean air outside. There they laid him on a couch,
facing the thousands of warriors.
The whole affair seemed rehearsed. No sooner was the king settled, his
eyes sweeping the serried ranks of the impis, than an imposing induna
stepped out and led them in the royal salute. Three times they gave
it, with the sound of thunder in the mountains, and at each crash I
could see a faint smile soften Buno's harsh features. He had lived a
king and like a king would die!
Then followed a sort of march past. It seemed to me that untold
thousands of these great warriors went by, each raising his arms above
his head in salute as he passed. Before long Buno became faint again,
and Tuys gave him a little more gin. How he was able to stick out this
review was beyond me. I could not see where he got the strength.
Down in my heart I had a fear that something would go wrong and that
Buno would show his savagery by having some poor warrior killed,
partly to satisfy his blood-craving and partly to impress us. However,
luck was with us. No one blundered, and when the impis had passed by
they re-formed along the roadway and gave the triple royal salute.
That was the end, and the indunas carried Buno back to his hut. He
told Tuys that he wanted to sleep and would send for him when he
awaked. This was our dismissal, and we went to our wagon, which was at
the usual place.
I was very hungry and was glad to find that Tuys's servants had
prepared food. Tuys was eating and remarking on the condition of the
king when suddenly an induna came running in to us. He did not wait
for any of the usual formalities, but dashed right up to where we sat
on the ground, chewing our rusks and biltong.
"Come quick, come quick, Nkoos!" he gasped. "The king is dying! A
puff-adder has bitten him. Come quick! He calls you!"
We dropped our food and followed the chief at a run. In a few seconds
we threw ourselves into Buno's hut. A number of indunas were about
him, all very excited. He was breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on the
smoke-hole in the roof.
Tuys stood by his head and said, "I am here, O King!" This he repeated
three or four times, the last time in a fair shout, before Buno looked
at him. For a moment the king licked his lips and made as though to
speak. Finally the words came:
"I am going now, Nkoos! I am as good as dead!" he cried, his voice
shrill in its weakness. "The snake has done what the fever failed to
do--the snake has given me release!"
Then he shook as though with a violent chill. His hands opened and
shut convulsively and his head rolled from side to side. After a
moment he became still and began speaking again. I could see that his
body had begun to swell; he looked bloated.
"It is the end!" he croaked. "I die! I die!... The king dies! But the
king will die like a man! The king will die on his feet, like a
warrior!"
With superhuman strength he heaved himself up and sat bolt upright.
Tuys and several of the indunas sprang to his aid, and in a moment
they had him on his feet. His legs seemed perfectly stiff.
"Let go! Let go!" he cried. "I am a man and will meet death face to
face!"
They took their hands off him, and he stood swaying back and forth,
his mouth working as he tried to speak. The light from the smoke-hole
struck him on the head and deepened the lines of his face, throwing
heavy shadows under the eyes and chin. These shadows intensified the
cruelty of his face, and I felt a cold shudder. Buno dying was even
more terrible than Buno killing!
He must have stood for a moment only, but it seemed an age to me. His
rolling eyes passed from chief to chief and his shaking right hand
tore an assegai from the nearest. Then the end!
Raising himself on his toes, his body straight and head thrown back,
he threw both hands up and brought the spear down with a vicious
stabbing motion.
"Soukbulala! Soukbulala!" he shouted, and pitched forward dead. Tuys,
I remember, almost caught him as he fell. Later I learned that his
last cry was the war-shout of the Swazis. It means "I'll kill you!"
"He died as he lived," Tuys said to me in Dutch out of the corner of
his mouth, while he leaned down and turned Buno over. Then he assisted
the indunas in laying him out with his head on the block and a
wonderful fur robe over his wasted body.
When this was completed the indunas stepped back and gave their dead
king the royal salute. A moment later one of them stepped out of the
hut and raised his deep voice in a solemn shout.
"Nkoos ou pelela! E' Buno impela e baba amaswazi ou pelela guti!" he
cried. This he repeated over and over until it became a sort of chant.
It was the announcement of Buno's death and, translated, was about as
follows, "The king is dead! Buno the Great, the father of his people,
is dead!"
We got out of the hut as soon as we could, and found the natives
running from all directions. Soon there was a great mob. They were
quiet, but each seemed apprehensive. Their voices rose in a subdued
murmur. As I watched, it occurred to me that I did not see Umzulek
anywhere. It seemed queer that the king's brother should not be there.
Then came cries of "The queen! The queen! Tzaneen! Tzaneen!" and I
could see the crowd split, leaving a wide passageway. Down the alley
came a score of splendid warriors, in their midst the finest looking
woman I had yet seen. She walked with head erect and steady tread,
exactly as a queen should carry herself.
"It's Tzaneen, the queen," Tuys said, catching me by the arm. "She is
the queen, and her unborn child will be the ruler of Swaziland. Watch
closely now."
She stopped short in front of us and saluted Tuys. She was about six
feet tall and was a most imposing figure.
"Nkoos, is it true that Buno is dead?" she asked in a level voice.
"Nkosikaas, the king is dead," Tuys replied. "His body lies within. A
snake killed him."
"How did the snake come to his kraal?" Tzaneen asked, eyeing Tuys
keenly. "Did that snake come on two feet?"
This was a new idea. It had not occurred to me to question the manner
in which the snake had reached the hut. With all the warriors about,
even though they may have been taking their midday sleep, it seemed
very peculiar that the puff-adder should have been able to reach Buno
without being seen and killed. Again I found myself asking for Umzulek.
"I cannot tell how the snake came to the king," Tuys said, in answer
to Tzaneen's questions. "I was at my camp when word was brought that
Buno was dying."
Tzaneen then stooped and entered the hut, followed by several other
women whom I took to be her personal attendants or maids. We remained
outside. It was not fitting that white men should see the Zulu
princess, queen of Swaziland, with her dead king.
No sooner had she entered the hut than the voices of the crowd rose in
expectancy. I looked around to see another party coming up the rapidly
formed passageway. There were more warriors in this party than the
other, and again I could see a woman at the head of several others. As
she passed, the people saluted. They had not done so before, and this
struck me as queer.
When the party came closer I could see that it was Queen Labotsibeni,
the mother of the dead king. At her right hand was the missing
Umzulek. She seemed much agitated, but he strode along quite cheerfully.
Tuys stepped forward to meet the old queen. There was the usual
salutation, and she asked, "My son, the king, is dead?"
"Yes, Nkosikaas, it is so," Tuys assured her.
They stood silent for a moment, and then quite suddenly Queen Tzaneen
joined the group. I had been watching Labotsibeni so intently that I
did not see her come out of the hut.
The two queens stood looking at one another, each waiting for the
other to salute. Umzulek, behind the old queen, was watching Tzaneen,
and I had a feeling that something was about to happen. I could see
that Tuys was interested and saw him shift his feet, his right hand
carelessly resting on the butt of his revolver. He, too, was watching
Umzulek. Finally Tzaneen spoke.
"Queen Mother," she said, addressing Labotsibeni, "Our king is dead!
You have lost your son and I my husband, the father of my unborn
child, who is to be king of Swaziland."
"What if your child be a woman?" snapped back the old queen, who had
evidently been thinking along practical lines. "Who is to rule
Swaziland until your child is born?"
"I am the queen!" said Tzaneen, drawing herself up until she looked it
and gazing fixedly at the old queen.
Labotsibeni met her eyes without flinching, and then without another
word pushed by her and entered the hut where her son's body lay.
Tzaneen, calling her people to her, strode through the crowd. As she
went, they gave her the royal salute. It looked as though the people
were acknowledging her as their ruler.
Tuys and I stood back during the brief exchange between the queens. It
was none of our business, of course, but he was keenly interested and
did not miss a word. We decided that we were not wanted at the royal
kraal about this time and went back to our camp. The day was dying,
anyway, and Tuys said he thought it would be dangerous to be abroad
that night.
"When the fires are lighted to-night," Tuys told me as soon as we
reached camp, "the witch-doctors will kill the ten indunas chosen to
die with the king. We shall not go and see this. When the council
chose these men, I was to be the first man killed, because I was a
friend of Buno. Umzulek was one of his council and I don't trust him.
Buno ordered that I was not to be killed because I was white, but
accidents happen in Swaziland, as you know, and I don't care to take
any chances."
This seemed good sense to me. Now that Buno, our protector, was dead,
I had begun to worry about our safety. The fact that Buno had
appointed Tuys as "guardian" of his people might not carry as much
weight as he thought.