A large, well-built Zulu kraal is to my mind a picturesque and
symmetrical object with its perfect double circle of ring fences
enclosing the yellow domes of the grass huts, and the large open space
in the centre, dappled with many coloured cattle, or alive with the dark
forms of its inhabitants. Such a kraal was that of the chief, Majendwa.
It lay deep down in a large basin-like hollow; an amphitheatre, as it
were, sparsely bushed and surrounded by high, terrace-like cliffs. On
one side these rose up to a tall cone of considerable height.
The valley bottom and the slopes of the hills were covered with grazing
herds, all sleek and round and shining, for the grass was abundant, and
rains had been plentiful in these highlands.
"That looks promising," I remarked to Falkner, as we gazed around upon
this land of plenty. "I hope to take back a good few of these with us."
"By Jove, yes," he said. "I say, I wonder if there's anything to shoot
among those cliffs over there."
"Not very much. An odd reebok or klipspringer is about all you'd get.
However, we can try later on. Hallo! That looks uncommonly like
Majendwa himself."
Two tall Zulus were stalking along a path which should converge with
ours a little way ahead. We had ridden on, leaving the waggons to
follow, and the sound of their creaking and jolting was even now borne
to our ears behind, as they wound down the rocky track which led into
the hollow from that side, together with an occasional driving shout.
"Is it?" said Falkner, looking up with some curiosity. "By Jingo, he's
a fine-looking chap for a nigger, anyway."
"Thought you'd worn through that `nigger' string of yours, Falkner," I
said. "Don't play on it for the benefit of Majendwa, that's all."
I may have seen as fine, but I never saw a finer specimen of a Zulu than
Majendwa. Tall and straight, and for his age marvellously free from
that corpulence which seems to come upon nearly all Zulus of rank or
birth in middle life, every movement of his limbs showing great muscular
strength the man's frame was a model. His countenance even from a
European standpoint was singularly handsome, the broad, lofty forehead
and clear eyes conveying the idea of intellectuality and high breeding,
in short he looked what he was, an aristocrat of his race. His greeting
was dignified yet cordial.
"I see you, Iqalaqala," he said, having waited for us to come up--"and
am glad. It is long since you brought trade our way."
I answered that my wandering days were over for the present, yet I could
not altogether sit still, so had come straight up to the Abaqulusi to
trade with them first. Then following their inquiring glance at my
companion, I told them he was a neighbour of mine who had been an
officer in the English army, causing them to look at him with redoubled
interest.
"What's it all about, Glanton?" struck in Falkner who was always
impatient when I was talking and bound to cut in at the wrong time.
"Who's the other chap?"
"Muntisi, the chief's second son. He's got seven, but this and the
eldest are the only two who wear the ring."
"Well, I like their looks. Here, have some 'bacca, old chap," pulling
out his pouch.
Majendwa, who of course didn't understand the familiarity of the
address, received the tobacco, in his dignified way, with a slight smile
and a glance of furtive curiosity at Falkner's parti-coloured
countenance, which had by no means shed all traces of his bout of
fisticuffs with Dolf Norbury. Then he said:
"Come within, Iqalaqala. I will send men to show your people where to
outspan."
We walked on with them, leading our horses, for we had dismounted to
greet them. As we drew near, the kraal, which had seemed deserted,
sprang into life. Heads appeared above the thorn fence, watching the
approach of the waggons in the distance, and from where the red topknots
of women were grouped, a buzz and chatter of expectation went up.
"Hallo, Glanton. You're never going to leave that there?" said Falkner,
as I deliberately put down my rifle outside the gate before entering.
"I'm hanged if I'll leave mine."
"But you must. It's etiquette."
"Oh blazes, but I don't like it," he grumbled, as he complied
reluctantly. However Majendwa, whose ready tact had seen through his
reluctance, told me we need not disarm there, and in fact we had better
bring in our weapons, for there was nothing he enjoyed so much as
inspecting firearms.
As we passed among the huts, I greeted several men whom I knew
personally. Falkner the while staring curiously about him.
"I tell you what, Glanton. Some of these are devilish fine-looking
girls," he remarked. "Quite light coloured too, by Jove."
I rendered this for the benefit of the chief that my companion observed
that the women of the Abaqulusi were far better looking than any he had
ever seen in Zululand, which evoked a laugh from those men who heard,
and a delighted squeal from those of the sex thus eulogised. Then
Falkner committed his first blunder.
We had gained the chief's hut, and stooping down, I had entered the low
door first, Falkner following. When halfway through he drew back.
"Dash it all!" he exclaimed, "I've dropped my matchbox."
"Never mind. Come right through," I warned. "Don't stop on any
account."
But it was too late. He had already crawled back, and picked up the
lost article.
"Why what's the row?" he said, startled at my peremptory tone.
"Only that it's awful bad manners with them to stop halfway through a
door and back out again. It's worse, it makes a sort of bad _muti_.
It's a pity you did it."
"Oh blazes, how was I to know? Sort of ill luck, eh--evil eye and all
that kind of business? Well, you can put that right with them."
I tried to do this, incidentally explaining that he was a new arrival in
the country and could not talk with their tongue yet, and of coarse was
not familiar with their ways, that I hoped they would bear this in mind
during the time we should spend at the kraal. But although the chief
and his son took the incident in good part I could see they would much
rather it had not happened. As regarded the offender himself one thing
struck me as significant. Time was, and not so long ago either, when he
would have pooh-poohed it, as a silly nigger superstition. Now he
showed some little concern, which was a sign of grace.
_Tywala_, which is beer brewed from _amabele_, or native grown millet,
if fresh and cleanly made, is an excellent thirst quencher on a hot day,
and you never get it so well and cleanly made as in the hut of a Zulu
chief. Of this a great calabash was brought in, and poured out into
black bowls made of soft and porous clay.
"By Jove, Glanton," cut in Falkner, during an interval in our talk.
"This is something like. Why this jolly hut," looking round upon the
clean and cool interior with its hard polished floor, and domed thatch
rising high overhead--"is as different as possible to the poky smoky
affairs our niggers run up. And as for this tipple--oh good Lord!"
There was a squashing sound and a mighty splash. He had been raising
the bowl to his lips, and that by the process of hooking one finger over
the rim thereof. The vessel being, as I have said, of soft clay was
unable to stand that sort of leverage, and had incontinently split in
half, and the contents, liberal in quantity, went souse all over his
trousers as he sat there, splashing in milky squirts the legs of
Majendwa and three or four other men of rank who had come in to join the
_indaba_. These moved not a muscle, but I could catch a lurking twinkle
in the eyes of the chief's son.
"Here, I say. Tell them I'm devilish sorry," cried Falkner shaking off
the stuff as best he could. "I'm not accustomed to these things, you
know."
I put it to them. They looked at Falkner, then at the shattered bowl,
and as a Zulu is nothing if not humorous, one and all went off into a
roar of laughter.
"Hallo! That's better," grinned Falkner looking up, as he tried to wipe
off the liquid with his handkerchief. "Why these are jolly sort of
fellows after all. I was afraid they were going to look beastly glum
over it. Tell them I'll get into their ways soon, Glanton. Meanwhile
here's their jolly good health," taking a big drink out of a fresh bowl
that was placed before him, only this time taking care to hold it with
both hands.
Soon the cracking of whips and an increased buzz of voices without
announced the arrival of the waggons, and we all went out to the place
of outspan. The sun was sinking behind the high ridge which bordered
the great basin, and the plain in front of the kraal was dappled with
homing herds, and on these I looked with the eye of a connoisseur and
especially on the little fat, black Zulu oxen, which always fetch a good
price for trek purposes. The shrill shout and whistle of the boy herds,
blended with the trample and mooing of the cows brought in for the
evening milking--but the chief interest on the part of the denizens of
the great kraal was centred around the waggons. However it was too late
to unload for trade purposes that evening, so beyond getting out a few
things for gifts to Majendwa and some of the principal men of the place,
I left everything undisturbed.
"Here's our hut, Falkner," I said, presently, as we returned within the
kraal. "We're going to sleep here."
"Sleep here?" he echoed. "Don't know. I'd much rather sleep at the
waggons. How about crawlers," surveying doubtfully the interior,
wherein Tom was depositing the few things we should require for the
night.
"Oh, that won't trouble us. Beyond a few cockroaches of the smaller
sort a new hut like this is clean enough. You see Majendwa's an old
friend of mine, and he wouldn't take it in good part if we didn't sleep
in his kraal, at any rate for a night or two. Now we're going to dine
with him. Look they've just killed a young beast in honour of our
arrival."
And dine with him we did, and Falkner himself was fain to own that the
great slabs of grilled beef, cut from the choicest part, down the back
to wit, which were presently brought in, flanked by roasted mealies, and
washed down by unlimited _tywala_ constituted a banquet by no means to
be sneezed at. What though a clean grass mat did duty for a plate, and
a skewer of wood for a fork, even he admitted that we might have fared
much worse.
I did not talk much as to the state of the country with our entertainers
that night--that I could get at better by degrees, and later. But they
chuckled mightily as I described the scrap with Dolf Norbury.
"Udolfu!" Oh yes, they knew him well, used to trade with him at one
time, but they didn't want such whites as him in the Zulu country, they
said. I could understand this the more readily, for I knew that he had
tried on his bounce even to the verge of attempted blows with Ngavuma,
Majendwa's eldest son, who was from home just now, and for his pains had
got a broad assegai into his ribs which had kept him quiet on the flat
of his back for a matter of three or four months or so. So chatting--
and translating for the benefit of Falkner--even he agreed we had got
through an uncommonly jolly evening, and that the real Zulu was a real
brick, by Jove! Then we turned in.
I have a knack of shutting my eyes and going sound off about thirty
seconds after my head touches the pillow, or whatever does duty for one,
and that night made no exception to my general practice. I heard
Falkner fumbling about and cussing because he couldn't get his blankets
fixed up just as he wanted them, and so on; then I recollect my
half-smoked pipe dropping from my mouth just as usual, and then I
recollect no more, till--
I woke--not at all as usual when there was nothing to wake me. The
moonlight was streaming in through the interstices of the wicker slab
that constituted the door, throwing a fine silver network upon the floor
of the hut. Striking a match I looked at my watch. It was just after
one. But as the light flickered and went out I became aware of
something else. I was alone in the hut. What the deuce had become of
Falkner?
Raising myself on one elbow I called his name. No answer. I waited a
little, then got up and crawled through the low doorway.
The moon was nearly at full, and I stood looking over the screen of
woven grass which was erected in front of the door, leaving just room on
each side for a man to pass. The scene was of wonderful beauty. The
great circle of domed huts lying between their dark ring fences, the
shimmering solitude of the moonlit plain, and beyond, the far
amphitheatre of terraced cliffs rising to the twinkling stars. The calm
beauty of it all riveted me, accustomed as I was to night in the open--
do we ever get accustomed to such nights as this I wonder?--and I stood
thinking, or rather beginning to think--when--
Such a clamour broke forth upon the sweet stillness of the night as
though all the dogs in the kraal--no, in the world--had suddenly gone
stark, staring, raving mad, and then in the light of the broad moon I
saw Falkner Sewin clad in nothing but a short light shirt, sprinting as
I feel sure he never sprinted before or since. Behind him poured
forward a complete mass of curs, gaunt leggy brutes and as savage as
they make them, given the conditions of night and a fleeing unwonted
object. The ground was open in front of Majendwa's huts, so he had some
start.
"This way!" I yelled, lest he should mistake the hut, then quick as
lightning I was inside. So was he, in about a moment, and was on his
back with both heels jammed hard against the slammed-to wicker slab that
constituted the door, while the whole snarling mouthing pack was hurling
itself against the same, snapping and growling, till finding they
couldn't get in, the ill-conditioned brutes started to fight with each
other. Then a man came out of an adjacent hut and shied knobsticks into
the lot, dispersing them with many a pained yell. The while I lay there
and laughed till I cried.
"If you could only have seen yourself, Falkner, covering distance in the
moonlight and a short shirt," I managed to gasp at length. "Man, what
the deuce took you wandering about at night? They don't like that here,
you know."
"Oh damn what they like or what they don't like!" he growled pantingly.
"I couldn't sleep--some infernal leggy thing or other ran over me--so
thought I'd admire the view a little by moonlight. Then those loathly
brutes came for me all at once. Here! give us hold of that fat flask we
had the sense to bring along. I want a drink badly."
"So do I!" I said starting off to laugh again. "Well, you mustn't do
any more moonlight patrols. It's _tagati_, as the Zulus say."