DOMESTIC LIFE.
SLEEPING ACCOMMODATION -- HOW SOLDIERS ON THE CAMPAIGN SLEEP --
THE KAFFIR’S BED -- IGNORANCE OF WEAVING -- PORTABLE FURNITURE --
A SINGULAR PROJECTILE -- THE KAFFIR’S PILLOW -- ITS MATERIAL AND
USUAL SHAPE -- A KAFFIR’S IDEAS OF ORNAMENT -- MODE OF REPOSING --
DINGAN AT HOME -- DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE -- KAFFIR MUSIC -- ENERGETIC
PERFORMANCE -- SOME NATIVE MELODIES -- QUALITY OF VOICE -- MUSICAL
INSTRUMENTS -- THE “HARP” AND MODE OF PLAYING IT -- PECULIAR TONES
OF THE HARP -- THE KAFFIR’S FLUTE -- EARTHENWARE AMONG THE KAFFIRS
-- WOMEN THE ONLY POTTERS -- HOW THE POTS ARE MADE -- GENERAL FORM
OF THE POTS AND THEIR USES -- EARTHEN GRAIN-STORES -- THRESHING OUT
GRAIN BEFORE STOWAGE -- THE TREES OF AFRICA -- THE THORNS AND THEIR
PROPERTIES -- THE GRAPPLE-PLANT -- THE WAIT-A-BIT, AND HOOK-AND-SPIKE
THORNS -- MONKEY-ROPES -- VARIOUS TIMBERS.
The sleeping accommodation of a Kaffir is of the simplest kind, and to
European minds forms about as uncomfortable a set of articles as can
be imagined. Indeed, with many of the young unmarried men, the only
permanent accommodation for sleeping is that which is furnished by
the floor of the hut, or the ground itself if they should be forced
to sleep in the open air. Soldiers on a campaign always sleep on the
ground, and as they are forced to leave all their clothes behind them,
they seek repose in the most primitive manner imaginable. It has
already been mentioned that, in order to secure celerity of movement,
a Kaffir soldier carries nothing but his weapon, and is not even
encumbered by dress. Hence he has a notable advantage over European
soldiers, who would soon perish by disease were they obliged to go
through a campaign without beds, tents, kit, or commissariat.
Our Highland soldiers are less dependent on accessory comforts than
most European regiments, and will contentedly wrap themselves in their
plaids, use their knapsacks as pillows, and betake themselves to sleep
in the open air. But they have at all events their plaid, while the
Kaffir warrior has nothing but his shield, which he may use as a bed if
he likes, and it is, perhaps, fortunate for him that long training in
hard marches renders him totally indifferent as to the spot on which
he is to lie. His chief care is that the place which he selects should
not be wet, or be in the close neighborhood of ants’ nests or snakes’
haunts, and his next care is to arrange his body and limbs so as to fit
the inequalities of the ground. As to the hardness of his extemporized
couch, he thinks little or nothing of it.
But when our Kaffir lad is admitted into the ranks of men, and takes
to himself his first wife, he indulges in the double luxury of a bed
and a pillow--the former being made of grass stems and the latter of
wood. This article of furniture is almost the same throughout Southern
Africa, and, among the true Kaffir tribes, the bed of the king himself
and that of his meanest subject are identical in material and shape. It
is made of the stems of grasses, some three feet in length, and about
as thick as crowquills. These are laid side by side, and are fastened
together by means of double strings which pass round the grass stems,
and are continually crossed backward and forward so as to form them
into a mat about three feet in width and six in length. This method of
tying the grass stems together is almost identical with that which is
employed by the native tribes that inhabit the banks of the Essequibo
River, in tying together the slender arrows which they project through
their blow-guns. The ends of the grass stems are all turned over and
firmly bound down with string, so as to form a kind of selvage, which
protects the mat from being unravelled.
On looking at one of these sleeping-mats, the observer is apt to fancy
that a vast amount of needless trouble has been taken with it--that
the maker would have done his work quicker and better, and that the
article itself would have looked much more elegant, had he woven the
materials instead of lashing them with string. But the Kaffir has not
the faintest idea of weaving, and even the primitive hand-loom, which
is so prevalent in different parts of the world, is not to be found in
Southern Africa.
The Kaffir can dress skins as well as any European furrier. He can
execute basket-work which no professional basket-maker can even
imitate, much less rival. He can make spear blades and axes which
are more suitable to his country than the best specimens of European
manufacture. But he has not the least notion of the very simple
operation of weaving threads into cloth. This ignorance of an almost
universal art is the more remarkable because he can weave leather
thongs and coarse hairs into elaborate ornaments, and can string beads
together so as to form flat belts or even aprons. Still, such is the
fact, and a very curious fact it is.
When the sleeper awakes in the morning, the bed is rolled into a
cylindrical form, lashed together with a hide thong, and suspended
out of the way in the hut. The student of Scripture will naturally be
reminded of the command issued to the paralytic man, to “take up his
bed and walk,” the bed in question being the ordinary thin mattress in
use in the East, which is spread flat on the ground when in use, and
is rolled up and put away as soon as the sleeper rises from his couch.
If a Kaffir moves from one residence to another, his wife carries his
bed with her, sometimes having her own couch balanced on the top of her
head, and her husband’s strapped to her shoulders. This latter mode of
carrying the bed may be seen in the illustration “Dolls,” on page 33,
where the woman is shown with the bed partly hidden under her kaross.
Should the Kaffir be a man of rather a luxurious disposition, he orders
his wife to pluck a quantity of grass or fresh leaves, and by strewing
them thickly on the ground and spreading the mat over them, he procures
a bed which even an ordinary European would not despise. Although the
bed is large enough to accommodate a full-sized man, it is wonderfully
light. My own specimen, which is a very fair example of a Kaffir bed,
weighs exactly two pounds and one ounce, so that the person who carries
it is incommoded not so much by its weight as by its bulk. The bulk is,
however, greatly diminished by the firmness with which it is rolled
up, so that it is made into a cylinder only three or four inches in
diameter. The reader may remember a story of a runaway bride, named
Uzinto, who rather astonished a Kaffir chief by pitching her bed
headlong through the door of the hut. By reference to the illustration
on page 209, it is easy to see how readily the bed could be thrown
through the narrow entrance, and how sharp a blow could be struck by it
if thrown with any force.
The pillow used by the Kaffir is even less comfortable than his bed,
inasmuch as it consists of nothing but a block of wood. The shape and
dimensions of these pillows are extremely variable. The specimens that
I have are fifteen inches in length and nearly six in height, and, as
they are cut out of solid blocks of the acacia tree, the weight is
considerable.
Upon the pillow the maker has bestowed great pains, and has carved the
eight legs in a very elaborate manner, cutting them into pyramidal
patterns, and charring the alternate sides of each little pyramid, so
as to produce the contrast of black and white which seems to be the
Kaffir’s ideal of beauty in wood-carving. It may here be noticed that
the Kaffir is not at all inventive in patterns, and that a curious
contrast exists between his architecture and his designs. The former,
it may be remarked, is all built upon curved lines, while in the
latter the lines are nearly straight. It is very seldom indeed that an
uncivilized Kaffir draws a pattern which is not based upon straight
lines, and even in those instances where he introduces circular
patterns the circles are small.
Comfortless as these pillows seem to us, they are well enough suited
to the Kaffir; even the married men, whose heads are closely shaven,
and who have not even the protection of their hair against the hardness
of the wood, are far better pleased with their pillow than they would
be with the softest cushion that could be manufactured out of down and
satin. Nor is this taste peculiar to the Kaffir, or even to the savage.
No Englishman who has been accustomed to a hard and simple mattress
would feel comfortable if obliged to sleep in a feather-bed; and many
travellers who have been long accustomed to sleep on the ground have
never been able to endure a bed afterward. I have known several such
travellers, one of whom not only extended his dislike of English
sleeping accommodations to the bed, but to the very pillow, for which
article he always substituted a block of oak, slightly rounded at the
top.
The illustration, “Dingan at home,” on page 209, represents the mode
in which a Kaffir reposes. The individual who is reclining is the
great Kaffir monarch, Dingan, and the reader will observe that his
bed is a mere mat, and that his pillow is only a block of wood. The
hut which is here represented is the celebrated one which he built at
his garrison town Ukunginglove, and it was specially noted because
it was supported by twenty pillars. The fireplace of this hut was
remarkable for its shape, which, instead of being the simple circle in
general use among the Kaffirs, resembled in form that ornament which
is known to architects by the name of quatrefoil. A few of his wives
are seen seated round the apartment, and, as Dingan was so great a
man, they were not permitted to stand upright, or even to use their
feet in any way, so that, if they wished to move from one part of the
hut to another, they were obliged to shuffle about on their knees.
The illustration is taken from a sketch by Captain Gardiner, who was
invited by Dingan to an interview in the house, and during which
interview he rather astonished his guest by retiring for a short time,
and then presenting himself with his face, limbs, and body entirely
covered with red and white spots, like those on toy horses.
The reader can form, from the contemplation of this drawing, a
tolerably accurate idea of the luxuries afforded by the wild, savage
life which some authors are so fond of praising.
As to music, the Kaffir has rather curious ideas on the subject. His
notion of melody is but very slight, while his timing is perfection
itself. The songs of the Kaffir tribes have already been mentioned,
and the very fact that several hundred men will sing the various war
songs as if they were animated with a single spirit shows that they
must all keep the most exact time. In this point they aid themselves by
the violent gestures in which they indulge. A Kaffir differs from an
European vocalist in this point, namely, that he always, if possible,
sits down when he sings. He and his companions will squat in a circle,
sometimes three or four rows deep, and will shout some well-known song
at the top of their voices, swaying their polished bodies backward and
forward as if they were one man, and aiding the time by thumping the
ground with their knob-kerries, and bringing their elbows violently
against their ribs so as to expel the notes from their lungs with
double emphasis.
[Music]
Some of the tunes which are sung by the Kaffirs at their dances are
here given, the music being taken from the Rev. J. Shooter’s work. The
reader will at once see how boldly the time is marked in them, and how
well they are adapted for their purpose. Neither are they entirely
destitute of tune, the last especially having a wild and quaint sort
of melody, which is calculated to take a strong hold of the ear, and
to haunt the memories of those who have heard it sung as only Kaffirs
can sing it. Among some of the Bosjesman tribes a sort of harmony--or
rather sustained discord--is employed, as will be seen in a succeeding
page, but the Zulus seem to excel in unison songs, the force of which
can be imagined by those who are familiar with the grand old hymns and
Gregorian tunes that have been suffered to lie so long in obscurity.
[Illustration: (1.) DINGAN AT HOME. (See page 207.)]
[Illustration: (2.) WOMEN QUARRELLING. (See page 213.)]
Of course, the quality of a Kaffir’s voice is not that which would
please an European vocalist. Like all uncultivated songsters, the
Kaffir delights in strong contrasts, now using a high falsetto, and now
dropping suddenly into a gruff bass. It is a very remarkable fact that
this method of managing the voice is tolerably universal throughout
the world, and that the accomplished vocalist of Kaffirland, of China,
of Japan, of Persia, and of Arabia, sings with exactly that falsetto
voice, that nasal twang, and that abrupt transition from the highest
to the lowest notes, which characterize our uneducated singers in
rural districts. Put a Wiltshire laborer and a Chinese gentleman into
different rooms, shut the doors so as to exclude the pronunciation of
the words, ask them to sing one of their ordinary songs, and the hearer
will scarcely be able to decide which room holds the English and which
the Chinese vocalist. In the specimens of music which have been given,
the reader will notice in several places the sudden rise or drop of a
whole octave, and also the curiously jerking effect of many passages,
both eminently characteristic of music as performed in country villages
where modern art has not modified the voice.
The musical instruments of the Kaffir are very few, and those of the
most simple kind. One is the whistle that is often diverted from its
normal duty as a mere whistle, to become a musical instrument, which,
although it has no range of notes, can at all events make itself heard
through any amount of vocal accompaniment. And, as a Kaffir thinks
that a song is no song unless it is to be sung with the whole power of
the lungs, so does he think that the whistle in question is a valuable
instrument in his limited orchestra.
There is, however, one musical instrument which is singularly soft
and low in its tones, and yet which is in great favor with the Kaffir
musicians. This is the instrument which is sometimes called a harp,
sometimes a guitar, and sometimes a fiddle, and which has an equal
right to either title, inasmuch as it has not the least resemblance to
either of those instruments. For the sake of brevity, we shall take the
first of these names, and call it a harp. At first sight, the spectator
would probably take it for an ordinary bow, to which a gourd had been
tied by way of ornament, and, indeed, I have known the instrument to be
thus described in a catalogue.
The instrument which is represented in the illustration entitled “Harp”
on page 155 is taken from a specimen which was brought from the Natal
district by the late H. Jackson, Esq., to whom I am indebted for so
many of the weapons and implements which appear in this work. The
bow is about five feet in length, and is made exactly as if it were
intended to be used for propelling arrows. The true Kaffir, however,
never uses the bow in warfare, or even in hunting, thinking it to be
a cowardly sort of weapon, unworthy of the hand of a warrior, and
looking upon it in much the same light as the knights of old looked
first on the cross-bows, and afterward on fire-arms, neither of which
weapons give fair play for a warrior’s skill and strength. The cord
is made of twisted hair, and is much longer than the bow, so that it
can be tightly or loosely strung according to the tone which the dusky
musician desires to produce. Near one end of the bow a round hollow
gourd is firmly lashed by means of a rather complicated arrangement of
leathern thongs. When the gourd is in its place, and the string is
tightened to its proper tension, the instrument is complete.
When the Kaffir musician desires to use it, he holds it with the gourd
upon his breast, and strikes the cord with a small stick, producing a
series of sounds which are certainly rather musical than otherwise,
but which are so faint as to be scarcely audible at the distance of
a few yards. Although the sound is so feeble, and the instrument is
intended for time rather than tone, the Kaffirs are very fond of it,
and will play on it by the hour together, their enthusiasm being quite
unintelligible to an European ear.
Generally the performer is content with the tones which he obtains
by stringing the bow to a certain note, but an expert player is not
content with such an arrangement. He attaches a short thong to the
string, and to the end of the thong he fastens a ring. The forefinger
of the left hand is passed through the ring, and the performer is able
as he plays to vary the tone by altering the tension of the string. The
object of the calabash is to give depth and resonance to the sound, and
it is remarkable that a similar contrivance is in use in many parts of
the world, hollow bamboo tubes, earthenware drums, and brass vessels
being used for the same purpose.
The reader may perhaps remember that in the middle ages, and indeed
in some districts up to a comparatively later time, a single-stringed
fiddle was used in the country. It was simply a bow, with a blown
bladder inserted between the string and the staff, and looked very
much like the Kaffir instrument with the gourd turned inside, so as to
allow the string to pass over it. Instead of being merely struck with
a small stick, it was played with a rude kind of bow; but, even in the
hands of the most skilful performer, its tones must have been anything
but melodious. The Kaffir harp is used both by men and women. There is
also a kind of rude flageolet, or flute, made of a reed, which is used
by the Kaffirs. This instrument is, however, more general among the
Bechuanas, and will be described in a future page.
* * * * *
In the course of the work, mention has been made of the earthenware
pots used by the Kaffirs. These vessels are of the rudest imaginable
description, and afford a curious contrast to the delicate and
elaborate basket-work which has been already mentioned. When a Kaffir
makes his baskets, whether he be employed upon a small milk-vessel
or a large store-house, he invents the most delicate and elaborate
patterns, and, out of the simplest possible materials, produces work
which no European basket-maker can surpass. But when vessels are to be
made with clay the inventive powers of the maker seem to cease, and
the pattern is as inferior as the material. Perhaps this inferiority
may be the result of the fact that basket-making belongs to the men,
who are accustomed to cut patterns of various kinds upon their spoons
and gourds, whereas the art of pottery, which implies really hard work,
such as digging and kneading clay, is handed over to the women, who are
accustomed to doing drudgery.
The Kaffir has no knowledge of machinery, and, just as he is ignorant
of the rudest form of a loom for weaving thread into fabrics, so is
he incapable of making the simplest kind of a wheel by which he may
aid the hand in the shaping of pottery. This is perhaps the more
remarkable, as the love of the circular form is so strong in the Kaffir
mind that we might naturally imagine him to invent a simple kind of
wheel like that which is employed by the peasants of India. But, as
may be conjectured from the only attempts at machinery which a Kaffir
makes, namely, a bellows whereby he saves his breath, and the extremely
rude mill whereby he saves his teeth, the construction of a revolving
wheel is far beyond him. In making their pots the women break to pieces
the nests of the white ant, and, after pounding the material to a fine
powder, mix it with water, and then knead it until it is of a proper
consistency. They then form the clay into rings, and build up the pots
by degrees, laying one ring regularly upon another until the requisite
shape is obtained. It is evident therefore, that the manufacture of a
tolerably large pot is a process which occupies a considerable time,
because it has to be built up very slowly, lest it should sink under
its own weight.
The only tool which is used in the manufacture of Kaffir pottery is
a piece of wood, with which the operator scrapes the clay rings as
she applies them, so as to give a tolerably smooth surface, and with
which she can apply little pieces of clay where there is a deficiency.
The shapes of these pots and pans are exceedingly clumsy, and their
ungainly look is increased by the frequency with which they become
lop-sided in consequence of imperfect drying. Examples of these
articles may be seen in several parts of this work. At the farther
end of the illustration No. 1, on page 63, may be seen several of the
larger pots, which are used for holding grain after it has been husked.
The operation of husking, by the way, is rather a peculiar one, and not
at all pleasant for the spectators who care for their eyes or faces.
The dry heads of maize are thrown in a heap upon the hard and polished
floor of the hut, and a number of Kaffirs sit in a circle round the
heap, each being furnished with the ever-useful knob-kerrie. One of
them strikes up a song, and the others join in full chorus, beating
time with their clubs upon the heads of maize. This is a very exciting
amusement for the performers, who shout the noisy chorus at the highest
pitch of their lungs, and beat time by striking their knob-kerries
upon the grain. With every blow of the heavy club, the maize grains
are struck from their husks, and fly about the hut in all directions,
threatening injury, if not absolute destruction, to the eyes of all who
are present in the hut. Yet the threshers appear to enjoy an immunity
which seems to be restricted to themselves and blacksmiths; and while
a stranger is anxiously shading his eyes from the shower of hard maize
grains, the threshers themselves do not give a thought to the safety of
their eyes, but sing at the top of their voice, pound away at the corn
cobs, and make the grains fly in all directions, as if the chorus of
the song were the chief object in life, and the preservation of their
eyesight were unworthy of a thought.
After the maize has been thus separated from the husk, a large portion
is hidden away in the subterranean granaries, which have already been
mentioned, while a considerable quantity is placed in their large
earthen jars for home consumption. In boiling meat, two pots are
employed, one being used as a cover inverted over the other, and the
two are luted tightly together so as to preserve the flavor of the
meat. Except for the three purposes of preserving grain, cooking food,
and boiling beer, the Kaffir seldom uses earthenware vessels, his light
baskets answering every purpose, and being very much more convenient
for handling.
From the preceding pages, the reader may form a tolerable idea of the
habits and customs of the tribes which inhabit this portion of the
world, and of whom one race has been selected as the typical example.
Of the many other tribes but slight notice will be taken, and only
the most salient points of their character will be mentioned. On the
whole it will be seen that the life of a South African savage is not so
repulsive as is often thought to be the case, and that, bating a few
particulars, a Kaffir lives a tolerably happy and peaceful life. He is
of course called upon to serve in the army for a certain time, but he
shares this liability with inhabitants of most civilized nations, and
when he returns after the campaign he is rewarded for good conduct by a
step in social rank, and the means wherein to maintain it.
Domestic life has, of course, its drawbacks among savages as among
civilized nations; and there are, perhaps, times when the gallant
soldier, who has been rewarded with a wife or two for his courage
in the field, wishes himself once more engaged on a war march. The
natural consequence of the low esteem in which the women are viewed,
and the state of slavery in which they are held, is that they are apt
to quarrel fiercely among themselves, and to vent upon each other any
feelings of irritation that they are forced to suppress before their
lords and masters.
Even among ourselves we see how this querulous spirit is developed
in proportion to want of cultivation, and how, in the most degraded
neighborhoods, a quarrel starts up between two women on the very
slightest grounds, and spreads in all directions like fire in tow.
So, in a Kaffir kraal, a couple of women get up a quarrel, and the
contagion immediately spreads around. Every woman within hearing must
needs take part in the quarrel, just like dogs when they hear their
companions fighting, and the scene in the kraal becomes, as may be
seen by the illustration No. 2, page 209, more lively than pleasant.
Even this drawback to domestic life is not without its remedy, which
generally takes the shape of a stick, so that the men, at least, pass
tolerably tranquil lives. Their chief characteristics are the absolute
power of their king, and their singular subservience to superstition;
but, as they have never been accustomed to consider their lives or
their property their own, they are quite happy under conditions which
would make an Englishman miserable.
* * * * *
Any account of Southern Africa would be imperfect without a short
description of one or two of the conspicuous trees, especially of the
thorns which render the “bush” so impervious to an European, but which
have no effect on the naked and well-oiled skin of a Kaffir. Frequently
the traveller will pursue his journey for many days together, and
will see scarcely a tree that does not possess thorns more or less
formidable. These thorns may be roughly divided into two groups,
namely, the straight and the hooked.
The straight thorns are produced by trees belonging to the great group
of Acacias, in which Southern Africa is peculiarly rich. They are
too numerous to be separately noticed, and it is only needful to say
that the two chief representatives of this formidable tree are the
Kameel-dorn (_Acacia giraffæ_) and the Karroo-dorn (_Acacia Capensis_).
The former tree has sharp brown thorns, very thick and strong, and
is remarkable for the fact that its pod does not open like that of
most trees of the same group. It is called by the Dutch colonists the
Kameel-dorn, because the giraffe, or kameel, grazes upon its delicate
leaves; but its native name is Mokáala, and by that title it is known
throughout the greater part of Southern Africa. The wood of the
Kameel-dorn varies in color, being pale-red toward the circumference
of the trunk, and deepening toward the centre into dark reddish-brown.
The very heart of the tree, which is extremely heavy, and of a very
dark color, is used in the manufacture of knob-kerries, and similar
articles, the chief of which are the handles of the feather-headed
sticks, which have already been mentioned in the chapter upon hunting.
The tree is found almost exclusively on rich sandy plains where is
little water.
The other species, which is known by the name of Karroo-dorn,
or White-thorn, is generally found on the banks of rivers or
water-courses, and is therefore a most valuable tree to the thirsty
traveller, who always looks out for the Karroo-thorn tree, knowing
that it is generally on the bank of some stream, or that by digging
at its foot he may find water. The leaves of this tree are extremely
plentiful; but they are of so small a size that the tree affords but
very little shade, and the effect of the sunbeams passing through a
thick clump of these trees is most singular. Several stems generally
rise from the same root, and it is a remarkable fact that the older
trees can easily be known by the dead branches, which snap across, and
then fall downward, so that their tips rest on the ground, while at
the point of fracture they are still attached to the tree. Insects,
especially the wood-devouring beetles, are supposed to be the cause of
this phenomenon, as the dead branches are always found to be perforated
with their burrows.
Every branch and twig of this tree is covered with the sharp white
thorns, which grow in pairs, and vary much in length, averaging
generally from two to four inches. They are sometimes even seven inches
in length; and deficiency in length is more than compensated by great
thickness, one of them in some cases measuring nearly two inches in
circumference. They are white in color, and are hollow, the thickness
of their walls scarcely exceeding that of a quill. They are, however,
exceedingly strong, and are most formidable impediments to any who
encounter them. There is a story of a lion, which I could not bring
myself to believe until I had seen these thorns, but which now seems
perfectly credible. The lion had sprung at his prey, but had slipped in
his spring, and fallen into a thorn-bush, where he lay impaled among
the sharp spikes, and so died from the effects of his many wounds. If
the bush had been composed of such thorns as those which have been
described, it would have been a much more wonderful thing for him to
have escaped than to have perished.
The danger, as well as annoyance, which is caused by these thorns may
be imagined from an accident which befell one of Le Vaillant’s oxen.
The animal happened to be driven against an acacia, and some of the
thorns penetrated its breast, of course breaking into the wound. All
those which could be seen were extracted with pincers; but several of
them had broken beneath the skin, and could not be touched. These
caused so violent an inflammation that, after waiting for twenty-four
hours in hopes of saving its life, it was found necessary to put it to
death.
This thorn is very useful for various reasons. In the first place,
its bark is employed in the manufacture of the strings with which the
natives weave their mats together, and which they often use in tying
together the flexible sticks which form the framework of their huts.
From the thorns of the tree the young maidens form various ornaments,
and with these thorns they decorate their heads, if they should not
be fortunate enough to procure the quills of the porcupine for that
purpose. Moreover, the dried wood makes an excellent fire, burning
easily and rapidly, and throwing out a brisk and glowing, though rather
transient heat.
Several of the acacias are useful as food-providers, the gum which
exudes from them being eaten as a regular article of diet. The reader
may remember that the poor Damara woman, who was left to die in the
wilderness, was supplied with gum as an article of food. Several of
the trees supply the gum in very large quantities. Mr. Burchell, the
well-known traveller, thinks that the gum which exudes from these
trees is so clear and good that it might largely take the place of the
gum-arabic of commerce, and form as regular article of merchandise
as the ivory, hides, and feathers, which form the staple of South
African trade. “On the branches of these acacias, which have so great
a resemblance to the true acacia of the ancients, or the tree which
yields the gum-arabic, as to have been once considered the same
species, I frequently saw large lumps of very good and clear gum.
“Wherever they had been wounded by the hatchets of the natives, there
most commonly the gum exuded; and by some similar operations it is
probable that the trees might, without destroying them, be made to
produce annually a large crop. And if a computation could be made of
the quantity that might be obtained from those trees only which line
the banks of the Gariep and its branches, amounting to a line of wood
(reckoning both sides) of more than two thousand miles, one would feel
inclined to suppose that it might be worth while to teach and encourage
the natives to collect it. This they certainly would be ready to do, if
they heard that tobacco could always be obtained in exchange.
“But if to the acacias of the river are added the myriads which crowd
almost every river in extra-tropical Southern Africa, or even between
the Cape and the Gariep only, we may feel satisfied that there are
trees enough to supply a quantity of this drug more than equal to
the whole consumption of Great Britain. Of the productiveness of the
_Acacia Capensis_ as compared with that of the _Acacia vera_, I have
no information that enables me to give an opinion; but with respect to
the quality, I think we may venture to pronounce it to be in no way
inferior.”
These are fair representatives of the straight-thorned plant of
Southern Africa. The best example of the hook-thorned vegetation is
that which is described by Burchell as the Grapple-plant; but it is
better known by the expressive name of Hook-thorn. The scientific title
of this plant is _Uncaria procumbens_, the former name being given to
it on account of the hooks with which it is armed, and the latter to
the mode in which it grows along the ground.
When in blossom, this is a singularly beautiful plant, the large
flowers being of a rich purple hue, and producing a most lovely effect
as they spread themselves over the ground, or hang in masses from the
trees and shrubs. The long, trailing branches are furnished throughout
their length with sharp barbed thorns, set in pairs. Unpleasant as
are the branches, they become worse when the purple petals fall and
the seed-vessels are developed. Then the experienced traveller dreads
its presence, and, if he can do so, keeps clear of the ground which
is tenanted by such a foe. The large seed-vessels are covered with a
multitude of sharp and very strong hooked thorns. When the seed is
ripe, the vessel splits along the middle, and the two sides separate
widely from each other, so that they form an array of hooks which
reminds the observer of the complicated devices used by anglers in
pike-fishing. The illustration No. 1, on page 247, represents a still
closed seed-vessel, and, formidable as it looks, its powers are more
than doubled when it is open and dry, each half being covered with
thorns pointing in opposite directions. The thorns are as sharp as
needles, and nearly as strong as if they were made of the same material.
The reader may easily imagine the horrors of a bush which is beset
with such weapons. No one who wears clothes has a chance of escape
from them. If only one hooked thorn catches but his coat-sleeve, he
is a prisoner at once. The first movement bends the long, slender
branches, and hook after hook fixes its point upon him. Struggling
only trebles the number of his thorned enemies, and the only mode by
which he can free himself is to “wait-a-bit,” cut off the clinging
seed-vessels, and, when he is clear of the bush, remove them one by
one. This terrible plant was most fatal to the English soldiers in the
last Kaffir wars, the unwieldy accoutrements and loose clothing of the
soldier being seized by the thorns, and holding the unfortunate man
fast, while the naked Kaffir could glide among the thorns unharmed, and
deliver his assagai with impunity. If the reader would like to form
an idea of the power of these thorns, he can do so by thrusting his
arm into the middle of a thick rose-bush, and mentally multiplying the
number of thorns by a hundred, and their size by fifty. In shape the
thorns have a singular resemblance to the fore-claws of the lion, and
they certainly, though inanimate, are scarcely less efficacious.
There is one of the acacia tribe (_Acacia detinens_) which is nearly as
bad in its way as the grapple-plant. In Burchell’s “Travels” there is a
very good account of this shrub, which is known to the colonists by the
title of _Vacht-een-bidgt_, or Wait-a-bit thorn. “The largest shrubs
were about five feet high--a plant quite unknown to me, but well known
to the Klaarwater people... and is the same thorny bush which gave us
so much annoyance the night before, where it was above seven feet high.
“I was preparing to cut some specimens of it, which the Hottentots
observing, warned me to be very careful in doing so, otherwise I should
be certainly caught fast in its branches. In consequence of this
advice. I proceeded with the utmost caution; but, with all my care,
a small twig got hold of one sleeve. While thinking to disengage it
quietly with the other hand, both arms were seized by these rapacious
thorns; and the more I tried to extricate myself, the more entangled I
became; till at last it seized my hat also, and convinced me that there
was no possibility for me to free myself but by main force, and at the
expense of tearing all my clothes. I therefore called out for help, and
two of my men came and released me by cutting off the branches by which
I was held. In revenge for the ill-treatment, I determined to give to
the tree a name which should serve to caution future travellers against
allowing themselves to venture within its clutches.” The monitory name
to which allusion has been made is that of _detinens_ as applied to
that particular species of acacia.
Besides these plants, there is one which deserves a brief mention,
on account of its remarkable conformation. This is the Three-thorn,
a species of _Rhigozum_, which is very common in parts of Southern
Africa. It is a low shrub, somewhere about three or four feet in
height, and its branches divide very regularly into threes, giving it
a quaint and altogether singular aspect. There is another remarkable
species, called the Haak-en-steek, or the Hook-and-prick thorn. In this
species the thorns are very curiously arranged. First comes a short,
hooked thorn; and if the traveller contrives to be caught by this hook,
and tries to pull himself away, he forces down upon himself a pair of
long, straight thorns, two inches in length, and as sharp as needles.
It will be seen that the variety of thorns which beset the traveller
is very great indeed. Dr. Kirk ingeniously divides them into three
classes, namely, those which tear the flesh, those which tear the
clothes, and those which tear both--this last class being by far the
largest.
The reader may remember that the “Stink-wood” has occasionally been
mentioned. This same tree with the unsavory name seems to have
been rather neglected, if we may believe the account written by Le
Vaillant nearly a century ago. He remarks of this tree, that it grows
plentifully in several parts of Southern Africa, and is found near
Algoa Bay, whence it is transported to the Cape, and there used in the
manufacture of furniture. The tree is a very slow-growing one, and,
like such trees, produces wood of a very hard texture. When freshly cut
it is pale, but after the lapse of time it gradually darkens into a
rich chestnut varied with black. Like the hard woods, it is susceptible
of a very high polish, and possesses besides the invaluable property of
being free from worms, which seem to perceive even in the dried wood
the unpleasant odor which distinguishes it when green. In general look
and mode of growth this tree much resembles the oak of our own country.
When a traveller first enters a South African forest, he is rather
surprised by two circumstances; the first being that the trees do not
surpass in size those which grace an ordinary English copse, and that
in many cases they are far inferior both in size and beauty. The next
point that strikes his attention is, the vast number of creepers which
spread their slender branches from tree to tree, and which, in some
instances, envelope the supporting tree so completely that they wholly
hide it from view. They have the faculty of running up the trunks of
trees, pushing their branches to the very extremity of the boughs, and
then letting drop their slender filaments, that are caught by lower
boughs and hang in festoons from them. At first the filaments are
scarcely stronger than packthread, but by degrees they become thicker
and thicker, until they are as large as a man’s arm. These creepers
multiply in such profusion that they become in many places the chief
features of the scenery, all the trees being bound together by the
festoons of creepers which hang from branch to branch.
The Dutch settlers call them by the name of Bavians-tow, or
Baboon-ropes, because the baboons and monkeys clamber by means of
them to the extremities of the branches where the fruit grows. The
scientific name for the plant is _Cynanchum obtusifolium_. The natives,
ever watchful for their own interests, make great use of these
creepers, and the Kaffirs use them largely in lashing together the
various portions of their huts. The fruit of the Bavians-tow is only
found at the extremity of the branches, where the young filaments
shoot out. When ripe it is something like a cherry, and is of a bright
crimson color. It goes by the popular name of “wild grape,” and is much
liked by monkeys, birds, and men. From the fruit a kind of spirit is
distilled, and a very good preserve can be made from it.
These baboon-ropes are not the only parasitic growths upon trees. In
many parts of the country there is a kind of long, fibrous moss which
grows upon the trees, and is often in such profusion that it completely
covers them, hiding not only the trunk and branches, but even the twigs
and leafage. This mossy growth extends to a considerable length, in
some cases attaining as much as ten or twelve feet. It is yellow in
color, and when short is very soft and fine, so that it can be used
for most of the purposes to which cotton or tow are applied. But, when
it reaches the length of six or seven feet, it becomes hard and wiry,
and is comparatively useless. I have now before me a quantity of this
tow-like lichen, which had been used in packing a large box full of
Kaffir weapons and implements. There is a tree which furnishes a very
useful timber, called from its color, “Geele-hout,” a yellow wood.
This tree is a species of _Taxus_, but there are at least two species
which produce the wood. The timber is much used for beams, planks, and
building purposes generally.
Many travellers have thought that these and several other trees
would form valuable articles of merchandise, and that they might
be profitably imported to Europe. That they afford really valuable
woods, and that some of them would be extremely useful in delicate and
fancy work, is indisputable. The only difficulty is, that to cut and
transport them at present involves so much expense that the arrangement
would hardly be sufficiently profitable for the investment of so much
capital.