SUPERSTITION--_Concluded_.
RAIN-MAKING -- EFFECTS OF A DROUGHT -- THE HIGHEST OFFICE OF A KAFFIR
PROPHET, ITS REWARDS AND ITS PERILS -- HOW THE PROPHET “MAKES RAIN”
-- INGENIOUS EVASIONS -- MR. MOFFATT’s ACCOUNT OF A RAIN-MAKER, AND
HIS PROCEEDINGS -- SUPPOSED POWERS OF EUROPEANS -- KAFFIR PROPHETS
IN 1857 -- PROGRESS OF THE WAR, AND GRADUAL REPULSE OF THE KAFFIRS
-- KRELI, THE KAFFIR CHIEF, AND HIS ADVISERS -- STRANGE PROPHECY AND
ITS RESULTS -- THE PROPHETS’ BELIEF IN THEIR OWN POWERS -- MORAL
INFLUENCE OF THE PROPHETS -- THE CELEBRATED PROPHET MAKANNA AND HIS
CAREER -- HIS RISE, CULMINATION, AND FALL -- MAKANNA’S GATHERING SONG
-- TALISMANIC NECKLACE -- THE CHARM-STICK OF THE KAFFIRS -- WHY THE
PROPHETS ARE ADVOCATES OF WAR -- A PROPHET WHO TOOK ADVICE.
The highest and most important duty which falls to the lot of the
prophets is that of rain-making. In Southern Africa, rain is the very
life of the country; and, should it be delayed beyond the usual time,
the dread of famine runs through the land. The Kaffirs certainly
possess storehouses, but not of sufficient size to hold enough grain
for the subsistence of a tribe throughout the year--nor, indeed, could
the Kaffirs be able to grow enough food for such a purpose.
During a drought, the pasture fails, and the cattle die; thus cutting
off the supply of milk, which is almost the staff of life to a
Kaffir--certainly so to his children. The very idea of such a calamity
makes every mother in Kaffirland tremble with affright, and there is
nothing which they would not do to avert it, even to the sacrifice
of their own lives. Soon the water-pools dry up, then the wells, and
lastly the springs begin to fail; and consequently disease and death
soon make dire havoc among the tribes. In this country, we can form
no conception of such a state of things, and are rather apt to suffer
from excess of rain than its absence; but the miseries which even
a few weeks’ drought in the height of summer can inflict upon this
well-watered land may enable us to appreciate some of the horrors which
accompany a drought in Southern Africa.
Among the prophets, or witch doctors, there are some who claim the
power of forcing rain to fall by their incantations. Rain-making is
the very highest office which a Kaffir prophet can perform, and there
are comparatively few who will venture to attempt it, because, in case
of failure, the wrath of the disappointed people is sometimes known to
exhibit itself in perforating the unsuccessful prophet with an assagai,
knocking out his brains with a knob-kerrie, or the more simple process
of tearing him to pieces. Those, however, who do succeed, are at once
raised to the very summit of their profession. They exercise almost
unlimited sway over their own tribe, and over any other in which there
is not a rain-maker of equal celebrity. The king is the only man who
pretends to exercise any authority over these all-powerful beings; and
even the king, irresponsible despot though he be, is obliged to be
submissive to the rain-maker while he is working his incantations.
It is, perhaps, not at all strange that the Kaffirs should place
implicit faith in the power of the rain-makers; but it is a strange
fact that the operators themselves believe in their own powers. Of
course there are many instances where a rain-maker knowingly practises
imposture; but in those cases he is mostly driven to such a course by
the menaces of those who are employing him; and, as a general fact, the
wizard believes in the efficacy of his own charms quite as firmly as
any of his followers.
A prophet who has distinguished himself as a rain-maker is soon known
far and wide, and does not restrict his practice to his own district.
Potentates from all parts of the country send for him when the drought
continues, and their own prophets fail to produce rain. In this, as in
other countries, the prophet has more honor in another land than in his
own, and the confidence placed in him is boundless. This confidence is
grounded on the fact that a rain-maker from a distant land will often
produce rain when others at home have failed. The reason is simple
enough, though the Kaffirs do not see it. By the time that the whole
series of native prophets have gone through their incantations, the
time of drought is comparatively near to a close; and, if the prophet
can only manage to stave off the actual production of rain for a
few days, he has a reasonable chance of success, as every hour is a
positive gain to him.
It is needless to mention that the Kaffirs are well acquainted with the
signs of the weather, as is always the case with those who live much in
the open air. The prophets, evidently, are more weather-wise than the
generality of their race, and, however much a rain-maker may believe
in himself, he never willingly undertakes a commission when the signs
of the sky portend a continuance of drought. Should he be absolutely
forced into undertaking the business, his only hope of escape from the
dilemma is to procrastinate as much as possible, while at the same time
he keeps the people amused. The most common mode of procrastination is
by requesting certain articles, which he knows are almost unattainable,
and saying that until he has them his incantations will have no effect.
Mr. Moffatt narrates a very amusing instance of the shifts to which a
prophet is sometimes put, when the rain will not fall, and when he is
forced to invoke it.
“The rain-maker found the clouds in our country rather harder to
manage than those he had left. He complained that secret rogues were
disobeying his proclamations. When urged to make repeated trials, he
would reply, ‘You only give me sheep and goats to kill, therefore I can
only make goat-rain; give me for slaughter oxen, and I shall let you
see ox-rain.’ One day, as he was taking a sound sleep, a shower fell,
on which one of the principal men entered his house to congratulate
him, but to his utter amazement found him totally insensible to what
was transpiring. ‘Hélaka rare!’ (Hallo, by my father!) ‘I thought you
were making rain,’ said the intruder, when, arising from his slumbers,
and seeing his wife sitting on the floor shaking a milk-sack in order
to obtain a little butter to anoint her hair, he replied, pointing to
the operation of churning, ‘Do you not see my wife churning rain as
fast as she can?’ This reply gave entire satisfaction, and it presently
spread through the length and breadth of the town, that the rain-maker
had churned the shower out of a milk-sack.
“The moisture caused by this shower was dried up by a scorching sun,
and many long weeks followed without a single cloud, and when these did
appear they might sometimes be seen, to the great mortification of the
conjurer, to discharge their watery treasures at an immense distance.
This disappointment was increased when a heavy cloud would pass over
with tremendous thunder, but not one drop of rain. There had been
several successive years of drought, during which water had not been
seen to flow upon the ground; and in that climate, if rain does not
fall continuously and in considerable quantities, it is all exhaled in
a couple of hours. In digging graves we have found the earth as dry as
dust at four or five feet depth, when the surface was saturated with
rain.
“The women had cultivated extensive fields, but the seed was lying in
the soil as it had been thrown from the hand; the cattle were dying for
want of pasture, and hundreds of living skeletons were seen going to
the fields in quest of unwholesome roots and reptiles, while many were
dying with hunger. Our sheep, as before stated, were soon likely to be
all devoured, and finding their number daily diminish, we slaughtered
the remainder and put the meat in salt, which of course was far from
being agreeable in such a climate, and where vegetables were so scarce.
“All these circumstances irritated the rain-maker very much; but he
was often puzzled to find something on which to lay the blame, for he
had exhausted his skill. One night, a small cloud passed over, and the
only flash of lightning, from which a heavy peal of thunder burst,
struck a tree in the town. Next day, the rain-maker and a number of
people assembled to perform the usual ceremony on such an event. It
was ascended, and ropes of grass and grass roots were bound round
different parts of the trunk, which in the _Acacia giraffa_ is seldom
much injured. A limb may be torn off, but of numerous trees of that
species which I have seen struck by lightning, the trunk appears to
resist its power, as the fluid produces only a stripe or groove along
the bark to the ground. When these bandages were made he deposited some
of his nostrums, and got quantities of water handed up, which he poured
with great solemnity on the wounded tree, while the assembled multitude
shouted ‘_Pùla pùla_.’ This done the tree was hewn down, dragged out of
the town, and burnt to ashes. Soon after this unmeaning ceremony, he
got large bowls of water, with which was mingled an infusion of bulbs.
All the men of the town then came together, and passed in succession
before him, when he sprinkled each with a zebra’s tail which he dipped
in the water.
“As all this and much more did not succeed, he had recourse to another
stratagem. He knew well that baboons were not very easily caught among
the rocky glens and shelving precipices, therefore, in order to gain
time, he informed the men that, to make rain, he must have a baboon;
that the animal must be without a blemish, not a hair was to be wanting
on its body. One would have thought any simpleton might have seen
through his tricks, as their being able to present him with a baboon
in that state was impossible, even though they caught him asleep.
Forth sallied a band of chosen runners, who ascended the neighboring
mountain. The baboons from their lofty domiciles had been in the
habit of looking down on the plain beneath at the natives encircling
and pursuing the quaggas and antelopes, little dreaming that one day
they would themselves be objects of pursuit. They hobbled off in
consternation, grunting, and screaming and leaping from rock to rock,
occasionally looking down on their pursuers, grinning and gnashing
their teeth. After a long pursuit, with wounded limbs, scratched
bodies, and broken toes, a young one was secured, and brought to the
town, the captors exulting as if they had obtained a great spoil. The
wily rogue, on seeing the animal, put on a countenance exhibiting the
most intense sorrow, exclaiming, ‘My heart is rent in pieces; I am
dumb with grief’; and pointing to the ear of the baboon, which was
scratched, and the tail, which had lost some hairs, added, ‘Did I not
tell you I could not make rain if there was one hair wanting?’
“After some days another was obtained; but there was still some
imperfection, real or alleged. He had often said that, if they would
procure him the heart of a lion, he would show them that he could
make rain so abundant that a man might think himself well off to be
under shelter, as when it fell it might sweep whole towns away. He had
discovered that the clouds required strong medicine, and that a lion’s
heart would do the business. To obtain this the rain-maker well knew
was no joke. One day it was announced that a lion had attacked one of
the cattle out-posts, not far from the town, and a party set off for
the twofold purpose of getting a key to the clouds and disposing of a
dangerous enemy. The orders were imperative, whatever the consequences
might be, which, in this instance, might have been very serious, had
not one of our men shot the terrific animal dead with a gun. This was
no sooner done than it was cut up for roasting and boiling; no matter
if it had previously eaten some of their relations, they ate it in
its turn. Nothing could exceed their enthusiasm when they returned to
the town, bearing the lion’s heart, and singing the conqueror’s song
in full chorus; the rain-maker prepared his medicines, kindled his
fires, and might be seen upon the top of the hill, stretching forth
his puny hands, and beckoning the clouds to draw near, or even shaking
his spear, and threatening that, if they disobeyed, they should feel
his ire. The deluded populace believed all this, and wondered the rains
would not fall.
“Asking an experienced and judicious man, the king’s uncle, how
it was that so great an operator on the clouds could not succeed,
‘Ah,’ he replied, with apparent feeling, ‘there is a cause for the
hardheartedness of the clouds if the rain-maker could only find it
out.’ A scrutinizing watch was kept upon everything done by the
missionaries. Some weeks after my return from a visit to Griqua Town,
a grand discovery was made, that the rain had been prevented by my
bringing a bag of salt from that place in my wagon. The charge was made
by the king and his attendants, with great gravity and form. As giving
the least offence by laughing at their puerile actions ought always to
be avoided when dealing with a people who are sincere though deluded,
the case was on my part investigated with more than usual solemnity.
Mothibi and his aid-de-camp accompanied me to the storehouse, where the
identical bag stood. It was open, with the white contents full in view.
‘There it is,’ he exclaimed, with an air of satisfaction. But finding,
on examination, that the reported salt was only white clay or chalk,
they could not help laughing at their own incredulity.”
An unsuccessful Kaffir prophet is never very sorry to have white
men in the country, because he can always lay the blame of failure
upon them. Should they be missionaries, the sound of the hymns is
quite enough to drive away the clouds; and should they be laymen,
any habit in which they indulged would be considered a sufficient
reason for the continuance of drought. The Kaffir always acknowledges
the superior powers of the white man, and, though he thinks his own
race far superior to any that inhabit the earth, he fancies that the
spirits which help him are not so powerful as those who aid the white
man, and that it is from their patronage, and not from any mental or
physical superiority, that he has obtained his pre-eminence. Fully
believing in his own rain-making powers, he fancies that the white
men are as superior in this art as in others, and invents the most
extraordinary theories in order to account for the fact. After their
own prophets have failed to produce rain, the Kaffirs are tolerably
sure to wait upon a missionary, and ask him to perform the office. The
process of reasoning by which they have come to the conclusion that the
missionaries can make rain is rather a curious one. As soon as the raw,
cold winds begin to blow and to threaten rain, the missionaries were
naturally accustomed to put on their overcoats when they left their
houses. These coats were usually of a dark color, and nothing could
persuade the natives but that the assumption of dark clothing was a
spell by which rain was compelled to fall.
It has just been mentioned that the prophets fully believe in their
own supernatural powers. Considering the many examples of manifest
imposture which continually take place, some of which have already
been described, most Europeans would fancy that the prophets were
intentional and consistent deceivers, and their opinion of themselves
was something like that of the old Roman augurs, who could not even
look in each other’s faces without smiling. This, however, is not the
case. Deceivers they undoubtedly are, and in many instances wilfully
so, but it is equally certain that they do believe that they are the
means of communication between the spirits of the dead and their
living relatives. No better proof of this fact can be adduced than the
extraordinary series of events which took place in 1857, in which not
only one prophet, but a considerable number of them took part, and in
which their action was unanimous. In that year, the Kaffir tribes awoke
to the conclusion that they had been gradually but surely yielding
before the European settlers, and they organized a vast conspiracy
by which they hoped to drive every white man out of Southern Africa,
and to re-establish their own supremacy. The very existence of the
colony of Natal was a thorn in their sides, as that country was
almost daily receiving reinforcements from Europe, and was becoming
gradually stronger and less likely to be conquered. Moreover, there
were continual defections of their own race; whole families, and even
the population of entire villages, were escaping from the despotic sway
of the native monarch, and taking refuge in the country protected by
the white man’s rifle. Several attempts had been previously made under
the celebrated chief Sandilli, and the equally famous prophet-warrior
Makanna, to dispossess the colonists, and in every case the Kaffir
tribes had been repulsed with great loss, and were at last forced to
offer their submission.
In 1857, however, a vast meeting was convened by Kreli, in order to
organize a regularly planned campaign, and at this meeting a celebrated
prophet was expected to be present. He did not make his appearance, but
sent a messenger, saying that the spirit had ordered the Kaffirs to
kill all their cattle. This strange mandate was obeyed by many of the
people, but others refused to obey the prophet’s order, and saved their
cattle alive. Angry that his orders had been disobeyed, the prophet
called another meeting, and had a private interview with Kreli, in
which he said that the disobedience of the people was the reason why
the white men had not been driven out of the land. But, if they would
be obedient, and slay every head of cattle in the country, except one
cow and one goat, the spirits of the dead would be propitiated by their
munificence, and would give their aid. Eight days were to be allowed
for doing the murderous work, and on the eighth--at most on the ninth
day--by means of spells thrown upon the surviving cow and goat, the
cattle would all rise again, and they would repossess the wealth which
they had freely offered. They were also ordered to throw away all the
corn in their granaries and storehouses. As a sign that the prophecy
would be fulfilled, the sun would not rise until half-past eight, it
would then turn red and go back on its course, and darkness, rain,
thunder, and lightning would warn the people of the events that were to
follow.
The work of slaughter then began in earnest: the goats and cattle were
exterminated throughout the country, and, except the two which were
to be the reserve, not a cow or a goat was left alive. With curious
inconsistency, the Kaffirs took the hides to the trading stations and
sold them, and so fast did they pour in that they were purchased for
the merest trifle, and many thousands could not be sold at all, and
were left in the interior of the country. The eighth day arrived, and
no signs were visible in the heavens. This did not disturb the Kaffirs
very much, as they relied on the promised ninth day. On that morning
not a Kaffir moved from his dwelling, but sat in the kraal, anxiously
watching the sun. From six in the morning until ten they watched its
course, but it did not change color or alter its course, and neither
the thunder, lightning, nor rain came on in token that the prophecy was
to be fulfilled.
The deluded Kaffirs then repented themselves, but too late, of their
credulity. They had killed all their cattle and destroyed all their
corn, and without these necessaries of life they knew that they must
starve. And they did indeed starve. Famine in its worst form set in
throughout the country; the children died by hundreds; none but those
of the strongest constitutions survived, and even these were mere
skeletons, worn away by privations, and equally unable to work or to
fight. By this self-inflicted blow the Kaffirs suffered far more than
they would have done in the most prolonged war, and rendered themselves
incapable of resistance for many years.
That the prophets who uttered such strange mandates must have been
believers in the truth of their art is evident enough, for they
sacrificed not only the property of others, but their own, and we
have already seen how tenaciously a Kaffir clings to his flocks and
herds. Moreover, in thus destroying all the food in the country, they
knew that they were condemning to starvation not only the country in
general, but themselves and their families, and a man is not likely
to utter prophecies which, if false, would reduce him from wealth to
poverty, and condemn himself, his family, and all the country to the
miseries of famine, did he not believe those prophecies to be true.
Although the influence exercised by the prophets is, in many cases,
wielded in an injurious manner, it is not entirely an unmixed evil.
Imperfect as their religious system is, and disastrous as are too
often the consequences, it is better than no religion at all, and at
all events it has two advantages, the one being the assertion of the
immortality of the soul, and the second the acknowledgment that there
are beings in the spiritual world possessed of far greater powers than
their own, whether for good or evil.
One of the most extraordinary of these prophets was the celebrated
Makanna, who united in his own person the offices of prophet and
general, and who ventured to oppose the English forces, and in person
to lead an attack on Grahamstown. This remarkable man laid his plans
with great care and deliberation, and did not strike a blow until
all his plots were fully developed. In the first place he contrived
to obtain considerable military information by conversation with
the soldiers, and especially the officers of the regiments who were
quartered at Grahamstown, and in this manner contrived to learn much of
the English military system, as well as of many mechanical arts.
The object which he proposed to himself is not precisely known, but as
far as can be gathered from his actions, he seems to have intended to
pursue a similar course to that which was taken by Tchaka among the
more modern Zulus, and to gather together the scattered Amakosa tribes
and to unite them in one great nation, of which he should be sole king
and priest. But his ambition was a nobler one than that of Tchaka,
whose only object was personal aggrandizement, and who shed rivers of
blood, even among his own subjects, in order to render himself supreme.
Makanna was a man of different mould, and although personal ambition
had much to do with his conduct, he was clearly inspired with a wish
to raise his people into a southern nation that should rival the great
Zulu monarchy of the north, and also, by the importation of European
ideas, to elevate the character of his subjects, and to assimilate them
as far as possible with the white men, their acknowledged superiors in
every art.
That he ultimately failed is no wonder, because he was one of those
enthusiasts who do not recognize their epoch. Most people fail in
being behind their day, Makanna failed in being before it. Enjoying
constant intercourse with Europeans, and invariably choosing for
his companions men of eminence among them, his own mind had become
sufficiently enlarged to perceive the infinite superiority of European
civilization, and to know that if he could only succeed in infusing
their ideas into the minds of his subjects, the Kosa nation would not
only be the equal of, but be far superior to the Zulu empire, which
was erected by violence and preserved by bloodshed. Conscious of the
superstitious character of his countrymen, and knowing that he would
not be able to gain sufficient influence over them unless he laid claim
to supernatural powers, Makanna announced himself to be a prophet of a
new kind. In this part of his line of conduct, he showed the same deep
wisdom that had characterized his former proceedings, and gained much
religious as well as practical knowledge from the white men, whom he
ultimately intended to destroy. He made a point of conversing as much
as possible with the clergy, and, with all a Kaffir’s inborn love of
argument, delighted in getting into controversies respecting the belief
of the Christians, and the inspiration of the Scriptures.
Keen and subtle of intellect, and possessed of wonderful oratorical
powers, he would at one time ask question after question for the
purpose of entangling his instructor in a sophism, and at another
would burst into a torrent of eloquence in which he would adroitly
make use of any unguarded expression, and carry away his audience by
the spirit and fire of his oratory. In the mean while he was quietly
working upon the minds of his countrymen so as to prepare them for his
final step; and at last, when he had thoroughly matured his plans, he
boldly announced himself as a prophet to whom had been given a special
commission from Uhlanga, the Great Spirit.
Unlike the ordinary prophets, whose utterances were all of blood and
sacrifice, either of men or animals, he imported into his new system of
religion many ideas that he had obtained from the Christian clergy, and
had the honor of being the first Kaffir prophet who ever denounced vice
and enforced morality on his followers. Not only did he preach against
vice in the abstract, but he had the courage to denounce all those who
led vicious lives, and was as unsparing toward the most powerful chiefs
as toward the humblest servant.
One chief, the renowned Gaika, was direfully offended at the prophet’s
boldness, whereupon Makanna, finding that spiritual weapons were
wasted on such a man, took to the spear and shield instead, led an
extemporized force against Gaika, and defeated him.
Having now cleared away one of the obstacles to the course of his
ambition, he thought that the time had come when he might strike a
still greater blow. The English had taken Gaika under their protection
after his defeat, and Makanna thought that he could conquer the British
forces as he had those of his countryman. Accordingly, he redoubled
his efforts to make himself revered by the Kaffir tribes. He seldom
showed himself, passing the greater part of his time in seclusion; and
when he did appear in public, he always maintained a reserved, solemn,
and abstracted air, such as befitted the character which he assumed,
namely, a prophet inspired, not by the spirits of the dead, but by
the Uhlanga, the Great Spirit himself. Now and then he would summon
the people about him, and pour out torrents of impetuous eloquence,
in which he announced his mission from above, and uttered a series of
prophecies, wild and extravagant, but all having one purport; namely,
that the spirits of their fathers would fight for the Kaffirs, and
drive the inhabitants into the sea.
Suddenly he called together his troops, and made a descent upon
Grahamstown, the whole attack being so unexpected that the little
garrison were taken by surprise; and the commander was nearly taken
prisoner as he was riding with some of his officers. More than 10,000
Kaffir warriors were engaged in the assault, while the defenders
numbered barely 350 Europeans and a few disciplined Hottentots. The
place was very imperfectly fortified, and, although a few field-guns
were in Grahamstown, they were not in position, nor were they ready for
action.
Nothing could be more gallant than the conduct of assailants and
defenders. The Kaffirs, fierce, warlike, and constitutionally brave,
rushed to the attack with wild war cries, hurling their assagais as
they advanced; and when they came to close quarters, breaking their
last weapon, and using it as a dagger. The defenders on the other
hand contended with disciplined steadiness against such fearful odds,
but the battle might have gone against them had it not been for a
timely succor. Finding that the place could not be taken by a direct
assault, Makanna detached several columns to attack it both in flank
and rear, while he kept the garrison fully employed by assailing it
in front. Just at that moment, an old experienced Hottentot captain,
named Boezak, happened to arrive at Grahamstown with a party of his
men. Without hesitation he led his little force against the enemy, and,
being familiar with Kaffir warfare, and also practised marksmen, he and
his followers neglected the rank and file of the enemy, and directed
their fire upon the leaders who were conducting the final charge. In a
few seconds a number of the most distinguished chiefs were shot down,
and the onset received a sudden check.
The Amakosa warriors soon recovered themselves and returned to the
charge, but the English had taken advantage of the brief respite,
and brought their field-guns to bear. Volley after volley of
grape-shot was poured into the thickest columns of the enemy, and the
front ranks fell like grass before the mower’s scythe. Still, the
courage of the Kaffirs, stimulated by the mystic utterances of their
prophet-general, was not quelled, and the undaunted warriors charged
up to the very mouths of the guns, stabbing with their last spears at
the artillerymen. But brave as they might be, they could not contend
against the deadly hail of grape-shot and musketry that ceaselessly
poured into their ranks, while as soon as a leader made himself
conspicuous, he was shot by Boezak and his little body of marksmen.
Makanna rallied his forces several times, but at last they were put to
flight, and he was obliged to accompany his discomfited soldiers.
Short as was this battle, it was a terrible one for the Kaffirs.
Fourteen hundred bodies were found dead on the field, while at least as
many more died of their wounds. After this decisive repulse, Makanna
surrendered himself to the English, and was sent as a prisoner to
Robben Island. Here he remained for a year, with a few followers and
slaves whom he was permitted to retain. One day he disarmed the guard,
and tried to escape in a boat, but was drowned in the attempt.
The subjoined spirited rendering of Makanna’s gathering song is by Mr.
Pringle, the poet-traveller in Southern Africa.
MAKANNA’S GATHERING.
“Wake! Amakosa, wake!
And arm yourselves for war,
As coming winds the forest shake,
I hear a sound from far:
It is not thunder in the sky.
Nor lion’s roar upon the hill,
But the voice of him who sits on high,
And bids me speak his will!
“He bids me call you forth,
Bold sons of Kahabee,
To sweep the White Man from the earth,
And drive them to the sea:
The sea, which heaved them up at first,
For Amakosa’s curse and bane,
Howls for the progeny she nursed,
To swallow them again.
“Then come, ye chieftains bold,
With war-plumes waving high;
Come, every warrior young and old,
With club and assagai.
Remember how the spoiler’s host
Did through the land like locusts range!
Your herds, your wives, your comrades lost,--
Remember, and revenge!
“Fling your broad shields away,
Bootless against such foes;
But hand to hand we’ll fight to-day,
And with the bayonets close.
Grasp each man short his stabbing spear,
And, when to battle’s edge we come,
Rush on their ranks in full career,
And to their hearts strike home!
“Wake! Amakosa, wake!
And muster for the war:
The wizard-wolves from Keisi’s brake,
The vultures from afar,
Are gathering at Uhlanga’s call,
And follow fast our westward way--
For well they know, ere evening fall,
They shall have glorious prey!”
There is now before me a remarkable necklace, which was taken from the
neck of a Kaffir who was killed in the attack of the 74th Highlanders
on the Iron Mount. (See illustration No. 1, on p. 167.) This stronghold
of the dark enemies was peculiarly well adapted for defence, and the
natives had therefore used it as a place wherein they could deposit
their stores; but, by a false move on their part, they put themselves
between two fires, and after severe loss had to abandon the post. The
necklace belongs to the collection of Major Ross King, who led the 74th
in the attack. It has evidently been used for superstitious purposes,
and has belonged to a Kaffir who was either one of the prophets, or
who intended to join that order. It is composed of human finger-bones,
twenty-seven in number, and as only the last joint of the finger is
used, it is evident that at least three men must have supplied the
bones in question. From the nature of the ornament, it is likely that
it once belonged to that class of which doctors make a living, by
pretending to detect the evil-doers who have caused the death of chiefs
and persons of rank.
As another example of the superstitious ideas of the Kaffirs, I
may here describe one of the small bags which are sometimes called
knapsacks, and sometimes “daghasacs,” the latter name being given to
them because their chief use is to hold the “dagha,” or preparation of
hemp which is so extensively used for smoking, and which was probably
the only herb that was used before the introduction of tobacco from
America.
Sometimes the daghasac is made of the skin of some small animal, taken
off entire; but in this instance it is made of small pieces of antelope
skin neatly joined together, and having some of the hair still left
in the interior. The line of junction between the upper and lower
pieces of skin is ingeniously concealed by the strings of black and
white beads which are attached to it; and the same beads serve also
to conceal a patch which is let in in one side. The bag is suspended
over the shoulders of the wearer by means of a long chain formed of
iron wire, the links of which are made so neatly that, but for a few
irregularities, they would be taken for the handiwork of an European
wire-worker.
From the end of the bag hang two thongs, each of which bears at the
extremity a valued charm. One of these articles is a piece of stick,
about three inches in length, and about as thick as an artist’s
pencil; and the other is a small sea-shell. The bone necklace, which
has just been described, does really look like a charm or an amulet;
but these two objects are so perfectly harmless in appearance that
no one would detect their character without a previous acquaintance
with the manners and customs of the natives. The stick in question is
formed of a sort of creeper, which seems to be invariably used in the
manufacture of certain charms. It has small dark leaves and pale-blue
flowers, and is found plentifully at the Cape, growing among the
“Boerbohne,” and other bushes, and twining its flexible shoots among
their branches.
Major King, to whose collection the daghasac belongs, possesses a
large specimen of the same stick, five feet in length and perfectly
straight. It was taken from the centre of a bundle of assagais that had
fallen from the grasp of a Kaffir, who was killed in a skirmish by the
Highlanders. This stick was employed as a war charm, and probably was
supposed to have the double effect of making certain the aim of the
assagais and of guarding the owner from harm. Vast numbers of those
wooden charms were issued to the soldiers by the celebrated prophet
Umlangeni, who prophesied that by his incantations the bullets of the
white man would turn to water as soon as they were fired. As the charm
cost nothing except the trouble of cutting the stick to the proper
length, and as he never issued one without a fee of some kind, it is
evident that the sacred office became in his hands a very profitable
one.
As war occupies so much of the Kaffir’s mind, it is to be expected that
the prophets encourage rather than suppress the warlike spirit of the
nation. During times of peace, the objects for which the prophet will
be consulted are comparatively few. Anxious parents may come to the
prophet for the purpose of performing some ceremony over a sick child;
or, with much apparent anxiety, a deputation from the tribe may call
him to attend upon the chief, who has made himself ill by eating too
much beef and drinking too much beer; or he may be summoned in case
of sickness, which is always a tolerably profitable business, and in
which his course of treatment is sure to be successful; or if he should
enjoy the high but perilous reputation of being a rain-maker, he may be
called upon to perform his incantations, and will consequently receive
a goodly number of presents.
These, however, are the sum of the prophet’s duties in times of peace,
and he is naturally inclined to foster a warlike disposition among
the people. The reader will remember that when Tchaka found that his
subjects were in danger of settling down to a quiet agricultural
life, he induced one of the prophets to stir up a renewal of the old
martial spirit. And we may be sure that he found no unwilling agents
in the prophets, at least three of whom must have been engaged in the
deception.
In war, however, the prophet’s services are in constant demand, and
his influence and his wealth are equally increased. He retains all
the privileges which he enjoyed in time of peace, in addition to
those which belong to him as general adviser in time of war. From the
beginning to the end of the war every one consults the prophet. When
the king forms the conception of making war, he is sure to send for
the prophet, and ask him to divine the result of the coming contest,
and whatever his advice may be it is implicitly followed. Then, after
war has been announced, another ceremony is necessary in order to
propitiate the spirits of ancestors, and cause them to fight for their
descendants, who sacrifice so many oxen to them, and thus enrich
their cattle pen in the shades below. Next comes the grand series of
ceremonies when the troops are mustered, and another, scarcely less
grand, when they march off.
In the mean time almost every soldier will want a charm of some kind
or other, and will pay for it. Moreover, he will generally owe the
sacrifice of a cow, or at least a goat, if he return home safely at the
end of a campaign, and of all sacrifices the prophet gets his share.
The old men and wives who remain at home, and are sure to feel anxious
about their husbands and children who are with the army, are equally
sure to offer sacrifices as propitiations to the spirits. When the
army returns the prophet is still in request, as he has to superintend
the various sacrifices that have been vowed by the survivors and their
friends. As to those who fell they have already paid their fees, and
for the failure of the charm there is always some excuse, which the
simple people are quite ready to believe.
Mr. Baines has kindly sent me an account of one of these prophets, and
the manner in which he performed his office. Besides the snakes, skins,
feathers, and other strange ornaments with which a Kaffir prophet is
wont to bedeck himself, he had hung round his neck a string of bones
and skulls, an amulet of which he evidently was exceedingly proud.
He was consulted by some of the soldiers about the result of the
expedition, and straightway proceeded to work. Taking off the necklace
he flung it on the ground, and then squatted down beside it, scanning
carefully the attitude assumed by every bone, and drawing therefrom his
conclusions. (See the engraving No. 2, on page 188.) At last he rose,
and stated to his awe-struck clients that before the war was over many
of them would eat dust, _i. e._ be killed.
This announcement had a great effect upon the dark soldiers, and their
spirits were sadly depressed by it. The commander, however, was a man
who was independent of such actions, and did not intend to have his
men disheartened by any prophet. So he sent for the seer in question,
and very plainly told him that his business was to foretell success,
and not failure; and that, if he did not alter his line of prophecy,
he must be prepared to take the consequences. Both the seer and the
spirits of departed chiefs took this rather strong hint, and after
that intimation the omens invariably proved to be favorable, and the
soldiers recovered their lost equanimity.