THE BAYEYE AND MAKOBA TRIBES.
MEANING OF THE NAME -- GENERAL APPEARANCE AND CHARACTER -- THIEVING
-- ABILITY IN FISHING -- CANOES -- ELEPHANT-CATCHING -- DRESS --
THE MAKOBA TRIBE -- THEIR LOCALITY -- A MAKOBA CHIEF’S ROGUERY --
SKILL IN MANAGING CANOES -- ZANGUELLAH AND HIS BOATS -- HIPPOPOTAMUS
HUNTING WITH THE CANOE -- STRUCTURE OF THE HARPOON -- THE REED-RAFT
AND ITS USES -- SUPERSTITIONS -- PLANTING TREES -- TRANSMIGRATION --
THE PONDORO AND HIS WIFE.
THE BAYEYE TRIBE.
As the Bayeye tribe has been mentioned once or twice during the account
of the Makololo, a few lines of notice will be given to them. They
originally inhabited the country about Lake Ngami, but were conquered
by another tribe, the Batoanas, and reduced to comparative serfdom.
The conquerors called them Bakoba, _i. e._ serfs, but they themselves
take the pretentious title of Bayeye, or Men. They attribute their
defeat to the want of shields, though the superior discipline of their
enemies had probably more to do with their victory than the mere fact
of possessing a shield.
On one notable occasion, the Bayeye proved conclusively that the shield
does not make the warrior. Their chief had taken the trouble to furnish
them with shields, hoping to make soldiers of them. They received the
gift with great joy, and loudly boasted of the prowess which they
were going to show. Unfortunately for them, a marauding party of the
Makololo came in sight, when the valiant warriors forgot all about
their shields, jumped into their canoes, and paddled away day and night
down the river, until they had put a hundred miles or so between them
and the dangerous spot.
In general appearance, the Bayeye bear some resemblance to the Ovambo
tribe, the complexion and general mould of features being of a similar
cast. They seem to have retained but few of their own characteristics,
having accepted those of their conquerors, whose dress and general
manners they have assumed. Their language bears some resemblance to
that of the Ovambo tribe, but they have contrived to impart into it a
few clicks which are evidently derived from the Hottentots.
They are amusing and cheerful creatures, and as arrant thieves and
liars as can well be found. If they can only have a pot on the fire
full of meat, and a pipe, their happiness seems complete, and they will
feast, dance, sing, smoke, and tell anecdotes all night long. Perhaps
their thievishness is to be attributed to their servile condition.
At all events, they will steal everything that is not too hot or
heavy for them, and are singularly expert in their art. Mr. Anderssen
mentions that by degrees his Bayeye attendants contrived to steal
nearly the whole of his stock of beads, and, as those articles are the
money of Africa, their loss was equivalent to failure in his journey.
Accordingly, he divided those which were left into parcels, marked each
separately, and put them away in the packages as usual. Just before the
canoes landed for the night, he went on shore, and stood by the head of
the first canoe while his servant opened the packages, in order to see
if anything had been stolen. Scarcely was the first package opened when
the servant exclaimed that the Bayeye had been at it. The next move was
to present his double-barrelled gun at the native who was in charge
of the canoe, and threaten to blow out his brains if all the stolen
property was not restored.
At first the natives took to their arms, and appeared inclined to
fight, but the sight of the ominous barrels, which they knew were
in the habit of hitting their mark, proved too much for them, and
they agreed to restore the beads provided that their conduct was
not mentioned to their chief Lecholètébè. The goods being restored,
pardon was granted, with the remark that, if anything were stolen for
the future, Mr. Anderssen would shoot the first man whom he saw. This
threat was all-sufficient, and ever afterward the Bayeye left his goods
in peace.
In former days the Bayeye used to be a bucolic nation, having large
herds of cattle. These, however, were all seized by their conquerors,
who only permitted them to rear a few goats, which, however, they value
less for the flesh and milk than for the skins, which are converted
into karosses. Fowls are also kept, but they are small, and not of
a good breed. In consequence of the deprivation of their herds, the
Bayeye are forced to live on the produce of the ground and the flesh
of wild animals. Fortunately for them, their country is particularly
fertile, so that the women, who are the only practical agriculturists
have little trouble in tilling the soil. A light hoe is the only
instrument used, and with this the ground is scratched rather than
dug, just before the rainy season; the seed deposited almost at random
immediately after the first rains have fallen. Pumpkins, melons,
calabashes, and earth fruits are also cultivated, and tobacco is grown
by energetic natives.
There are also several indigenous fruits, one of which, called the
“moshoma,” is largely used. The tree on which it grows is a very tall
one, the trunk is very straight, and the lowermost branches are at a
great height from the ground. The fruit can therefore only be gathered
when it falls by its own ripeness. It is first dried in the sun, and
then prepared for storage by being pounded in a wooden mortar. When
used, it is mixed with water until it assumes a cream-like consistency.
It is very sweet, almost as sweet as honey, which it much resembles
in appearance. Those who are accustomed to its use find it very
nutritious, but to strangers it is at first unwholesome, being apt to
derange the digestive system. The timber of the moshama-tree is useful,
being mostly employed in building canoes.
The Bayeye are very good huntsmen, and are remarkable for their skill
in capturing fish, which they either pierce with spears or entangle in
nets made of the fibres of a native aloe. These fibres are enormously
strong, as indeed is the case with all the varieties of the aloe
plant. The nets are formed very ingeniously from other plants besides
the aloe, such for example as the hibiscus, which grows plentifully
on river banks, and moist places in general. The float-ropes, _i. e._
those that carry the upper edge of the nets, are made from the “ifé”
(_Sanseviere Angolensis_), a plant that somewhat resembles the common
water-flag of England. The floats themselves are formed of stems of a
water-plant, which has the peculiarity of being hollow, and divided
into cells, about an inch in length, by transverse valves. The mode in
which the net is made is almost identical with that which is in use in
England. The shaft of the spear which the Bayeye use in catching fish
is made of a very light wood, so that, when the fish is struck, the
shaft of the spear ascends to the surface, and discharges the double
duty of tiring the wounded fish, and giving to the fisherman the means
of lifting his finny prey out of the water.
The Bayeye are not very particular as to their food, and not only eat
the ten fishes which, as they boast, inhabit their rivers, but also
kill and eat a certain water-snake, brown in color and spotted with
yellow, which is often seen undulating its devious course across the
river. It is rather a curious circumstance that, although the Bayeye
live so much on fish, and are even proud of the variety of the finny
tribe which their waters afford them, the more southern Bechuanas not
only refuse themselves to eat fish, but look with horror and disgust
upon all who do so.
The canoes of the Bayeye are simply trunks of trees hollowed out. As
they are not made for speed, but for use, elegance of shape is not at
all considered. If the tree trunk which is destined to be hewn into
a canoe happens to be straight, well and good. But it sometimes has
a bend, and in that case the canoe has a bend also. The Bayeye are
pardonably fond of their canoes, not to say proud of them. As Dr.
Livingstone well observes, they regard their rude vessels as an Arab
does his camel. “They have always fires in them, and prefer sleeping
in them when on a journey to spending the night on shore. ‘On land you
have lions,’ say they, ‘serpents, hyænas, as your enemies; but in your
canoe, behind a bank of reeds, nothing can harm you.’”
“Their submissive disposition leads to their villages being frequently
visited by hungry strangers. We had a pot on the fire in the canoe by
the way, and when we drew near the villages, devoured the contents.
When fully satisfied ourselves, I found that we could all look upon any
intruders with much complaisance, and show the pot in proof of having
devoured the last morsel.”
They are also expert at catching the larger animals in pitfalls, which
they ingeniously dig along the banks of the rivers, so as to entrap the
elephant and other animals as they come to drink at night. They plant
their pitfalls so closely together that it is scarcely possible for a
herd of elephants to escape altogether unharmed, as many as thirty or
forty being sometimes dug in a row, and close together. Although the
old and experienced elephants have learned to go in front of their
comrades, and sound the earth for concealed traps, the great number of
these treacherous pits often makes these precautions useless.
The dress of the Bayeye is much the same as that of the Batoanas and
their kinsfolk, namely, a skin wrapped round the waist, a kaross, and
as many beads and other ornaments as can be afforded. Brass, copper,
and iron are in great request as materials for ornaments, especially
among the women, who display considerable taste in arranging and
contrasting the colors of their simple jewelry. Sometimes a wealthy
woman is so loaded with beads, rings, and other decorations, that, as
the chief Secholètébè said, “they actually grunt under their burden” as
they walk along.
Their architecture is of the simplest description, and much resembles
that of the Hottentots, the houses being mere skeletons of sticks
covered with reed mats. Their amusements are as simple as their
habitations. They are fond of dancing, and in their gestures they
endeavor to imitate the movements of various wild animals--their walk,
their mode of feeding, their sports, and their battles. Of course they
drink, smoke, and take snuff whenever they have the opportunity. The
means for the first luxury they can themselves supply, making a sort of
beer, on which, by drinking vast quantities, they manage to intoxicate
themselves. Snuff-taking is essentially a manly practice, while smoking
hemp seems to be principally followed by the women. Still, there are
few men who will refuse a pipe of hemp, and perhaps no woman who will
refuse snuff if offered to her. On the whole, setting aside their
inveterate habits of stealing and lying, they are tolerably pleasant
people, and their naturally cheerful and lively disposition causes
the traveller to feel almost an affection for them, even though he
is obliged to guard every portion of his property from their nimble
fingers.
THE MAKOBA TRIBE.
Toward the east of Lake Ngami, there is a river called the Bo-tlet-le,
one end of which communicates indirectly with the lake, and the
other with a vast salt-pan. The consequence of this course is, that
occasionally the river runs in two directions, westward to the lake,
and eastward to the salt-pan; the stream which causes this curious
change flowing into it somewhere about the middle. The people who
inhabit this district are called Makoba, and, even if not allied to
the Bayeye, have much in common with them. In costume and general
appearance they bear some resemblance to the Bechuanas, except that
they are rather of a blacker complexion. The dress of the men sometimes
consists of a snake-skin some six or seven feet in length, and five or
six inches in width. The women wear a small square apron made of hide,
ornamented round the edge with small beads.
Their character seems much on a par with that of most savages, namely,
impulsive, irreflective, kindly when not crossed, revengeful when
angered, and honest when there is nothing to steal. To judge from the
behavior of some of the Makoba men, they are crafty, dishonest, and
churlish; while, if others are taken as a sample, they are simple,
good-natured, and hospitable. Savages, indeed, cannot be judged by
the same tests as would be applied to civilized races, having the
strength and craft of man with the moral weakness of children. The very
same tribe, and even the very same individuals, have obtained--and
deserved--exactly opposite characters from those who have known them
well, one person describing them as perfectly honest, and another
as arrant cheats and thieves. The fact is, that savages have no
moral feelings on the subject, not considering theft to be a crime
nor honesty a virtue, so that they are honest or not, according to
circumstances. The subjugated tribes about Lake Ngami are often honest
from a very curious motive.
They are so completely enslaved that they cannot even conceive the
notion of possessing property, knowing that their oppressors would
take by force any article which they happened to covet. They are so
completely cowed that food is the only kind of property that they can
appreciate, and they do not consider even that to be their own until
it is eaten. Consequently they are honest because there would be no
use in stealing. But, when white men come and take them under their
protection, the case is altered. At first, they are honest for the
reasons above mentioned, but when they begin to find that they are
paid for their services, and allowed to retain their wages, the idea
of property begins to enter their minds, and they desire to procure as
much as they can. Therefore, from being honest they become thieves.
They naturally wish to obtain property without trouble, and, as they
find that stealing is easier than working, they steal accordingly,
not attaching any moral guilt to taking the property of another, but
looking on it in exactly the same light as hunting or fishing.
Thus it is that the white man is often accused of demoralizing savages,
and converting them from a simple and honest race into a set of cheats
and thieves. Whereas, paradoxical as it may seem, the very development
of roguery is a proof that the savages in question have not been
demoralized, but have actually been raised in the social scale.
Mr. Chapman’s experiences of the Makoba tribe were anything but
agreeable. They stole, and they lied, and they cheated him. He had a
large cargo of ivory, and found that his oxen were getting weaker,
and could not draw their costly load. So he applied to the Makoba for
canoes, and found that they were perfectly aware of his distress, and
were ready to take advantage of it, by demanding exorbitant sums, and
robbing him whenever they could, knowing that he could not well proceed
without their assistance. At last he succeeded in hiring a boat in
which the main part of his cargo could be carried along the river. By
one excuse and another the Makoba chief delayed the start until the
light wagon had gone on past immediate recall, and then said that he
really could not convey the ivory by boat, but that he would be very
generous, and take his ivory across the river to the same side as the
wagon. Presently, the traveller found that the chief had contrived to
open a tin-box in which he kept the beads that were his money, and had
stolen the most valuable kinds. As all the trade depended on the beads
he saw that determined measures were needful, presented his rifle at
the breast of the chief’s son, who was on board during the absence
of his father, and assumed so menacing an aspect that the young man
kicked aside a lump of mud, which is always plastered into the bottom
of the boats, and discovered some of the missing property. The rest was
produced from another spot by means of the same inducement.
As soon as the threatening muzzles were removed, he got on shore, and
ran off with a rapidity that convinced Mr. Chapman that some roguery
was as yet undiscovered. On counting the tusks it was found that the
thief had stolen ivory as well as beads, but he had made such good use
of his legs that he could not be overtaken, and the traveller had to
put up with his loss as he best could.
Yet it would be unfair to give all the Makoba a bad character on
account of this conduct. They can be, and for the most part are, very
pleasant men, as far as can be expected from savages. Mr. Baines had
no particular reason to complain of them, and seems to have liked them
well enough.
The Makoba are essentially a boatman tribe, being accustomed to their
canoes from earliest infancy, and being obliged to navigate them
through the perpetual changes of this capricious river, which at one
time is tolerably quiet, and at another is changed into a series of
whirling eddies and dangerous rapids, the former being aggravated by
occasional back-flow of the waters. The canoes are like the racing
river-boats of our own country, enormously long in proportion to their
width, and appear to be so frail that they could hardly endure the
weight of a single human being. Yet they are much less perilous than
they look, and their safety is as much owing to their construction
as to the skill of their navigator. It is scarcely possible, without
having seen the Makoba at work, to appreciate the wonderful skill with
which they manage their frail barks, and the enormous cargoes which
they will take safely through the rapids. It often happens that the
waves break over the side, and rush into the canoe, so that, unless the
water were baled out, down the vessel must go.
The Makoba, however, do not take the trouble to stop when engaged in
baling out their boats, nor do they use any tool for this purpose. When
the canoe gets too full of water, the boatman goes to one end of it
so as to depress it, and cause the water to run toward him. With one
foot he then kicks out the water, making it fly from his instep as if
from a rapidly-wielded scoop. In fact, the canoe is to the Makoba what
the camel is to the Arab, and the horse to the Comanches, and, however
they may feel an inferiority on shore, they are the masters when on
board their canoes. The various warlike tribes which surround them
have proved their superiority on land, but when once they are fairly
launched into the rapids of the river or the wild waves of the lake,
the Makobas are masters of the situation, and the others are obliged to
be very civil to them.
One of the typical men of this tribe was Makáta, a petty chief, or
headman of a village. He was considered to be the best boatman and
hunter on the river, especially distinguishing himself in the chase of
the hippopotamus. The illustration No. 1 on page 351 is from a sketch
by Mr. Baines, who depicts forcibly the bold and graceful manner in
which the Makobas manage their frail craft. The spot on which the
sketch was taken is a portion of the Bo-tlet-le river, and shows the
fragile nature of the canoes, as well as the sort of water through
which the daring boatman will take them. The figure in the front of
the canoe is a celebrated boatman and hunter named Zanguellah. He was
so successful in the latter pursuit that his house and court-yard
were filled with the skulls of the hippopotami which he had slain
with his own hand. He is standing in the place of honor, and guiding
his boat with a light but strong pole. The other figure is that of
his assistant. He has been hunting up the river, and has killed two
sable antelopes, which he is bringing home. The canoe is only fifteen
or sixteen feet long, and eighteen inches wide, and yet Zanguellah
ventured to load it with two large and heavy antelopes, besides the
weight of himself and assistant. So small are some of these canoes,
that if a man sits in them, and places his hands on the sides, his
fingers are in the water.
The reeds that are seen on the left of the illustration are very
characteristic of the country. Wherever they are seen the water is sure
to be tolerably deep--say at least four or five feet--and they grow to
a great height, forming thick clumps some fifteen feet in height. It
often happens that they are broken by the hippopotamus or other aquatic
creatures, and then they lie recumbent on the water, with their heads
pointing down the stream. When this is the case, they seem to grow _ad
libitum_, inasmuch as the water supports their weight, and the root
still continues to supply nourishment.
In the background are seen two canoes propelled by paddles. The scene
which is here represented really occurred, and was rather a ludicrous
one. The first canoe belongs to the Makololo chief, M’Bopo, who was
carrying Messrs. Baines and Chapman in his canoe. He was essentially a
gentleman, being free from the habit of constant begging which makes
so many savages disagreeable. He had been exceedingly useful to the
white men, who intended to present him with beads as a recompense for
his services. It so happened that another chief, named Moskotlani, who
was a thorough specimen of the begging, pilfering, unpleasant native,
suspected that his countryman might possibly procure beads from the
white men, and wanted to have his share. So he stuck close by M’Bopo’s
canoe, and watched it so jealously that no beads could pass without
his knowledge. However, Moskotlani had his paddle, and M’Bopo had
his beads, though they were given to him on shore, where his jealous
compatriot could not see the transaction.
It has been mentioned that Makáta was a mighty hunter as well as an
accomplished boatman, and, indeed, great skill in the management of
canoes is an absolute essential in a hunter’s life, inasmuch as the
chief game is the hippopotamus. The next few pages will be given to
the bold and sportsmanlike mode of hunting the hippopotamus which is
employed by the Makoba and some other tribes, and the drawings which
illustrate the account are from sketches by Mr. Baines. As these
sketches were taken on the spot, they have the advantage of perfect
accuracy, while the fire and spirit which animates them could only have
been attained by one who was an eye-witness as well as an artist.
According to Dr. Livingstone, these people are strangely fearful of the
lion, while they meet with perfect unconcern animals which are quite
as dangerous, if not more so. That they will follow unconcernedly the
buffalo into the bush has already been mentioned, and yet the buffalo
is even more to be dreaded than the lion himself, being quite as
fierce, more cunning, and more steadily vindictive. A lion will leap on
a man with a terrific roar, strike him to the ground, carry him off to
the den, and then eat him, so that the pressure of hunger forms some
excuse for the act. But, with the buffalo no such excuse can be found.
A “rogue” buffalo, _i. e._, one which has been driven from his fellows,
and is obliged to lead a solitary life, is as fierce, as cunning, and
as treacherous an animal as can be found. He does not eat mankind, and
yet he delights in hiding in thick bushes, rushing out unexpectedly
on any one who may happen to approach, and killing him at a blow. Nor
is he content with the death of his victim. He stands over the body,
kneels on it, pounds it into the earth with his feet, walks away, comes
back again, as if drawn by some irresistible attraction, and never
leaves it, until nothing is visible save a mere shapeless mass of bones
and flesh.
Yet against this animal the Makoba hunters will match themselves,
and they will even attack the hippopotamus, an animal which, in its
own element, is quite as formidable as the buffalo on land. Their
first care is to prepare a number of harpoons, which are made in the
following manner. A stout pole is cut of hard and very heavy wood some
ten or twelve feet long, and three or four inches in thickness. At one
end a hole is bored, and into this hole is slipped the iron head of the
harpoon. The shape of this head can be seen in the illustration No. 1
on page 343. It consists of a spear-shaped piece of iron, with a bold
barb, and is about a foot in length.
The head is attached to the shaft by a strong band composed of a
great number of small ropes or strands laid parallel to each other,
and being quite loosely arranged. The object of this multitude of
ropes is to prevent the hippopotamus from severing the cord with his
teeth, which are sharp as a chisel, and would cut through any single
cord with the greatest ease. The animal is sure to snap at the cords
as soon as he feels the wound, but, on account of the loose manner
in which they are laid, they only become entangled among the long
curved teeth, and, even if one or two are severed, the others retain
their hold. To the other end of the shaft is attached a long and
strongly-made rope of palm-leaf, which is coiled up in such manner as
to be carried out readily when loosened. Each canoe has on board two or
three of these harpoons, and a quantity of ordinary spears. Preserving
perfect silence, the boatmen allow themselves to float down the stream
until they come to the spot which has been chosen by the herd for a
bathing-place. They do not give chase to any particular animal, but
await until one of them comes close to the boat, when the harpooner
takes his weapon, strikes it into the animal’s back and loosens his
hold.
The first illustration on page 343 represents this phase of the
proceedings. In the front is seen the head of a hippopotamus as it
usually appears when the animal is swimming, the only portion seen
above the water being the ears, the eyes, and the nostrils. It is a
remarkable fact that when the hippopotamus is at liberty in its native
stream, not only the ears and the nostrils, but even the ridge over the
eyes are of a bright scarlet color, so brilliant indeed that color can
scarcely convey an idea of the hue. The specimens in the Zoological
Gardens, although fine examples of the species, never exhibit this
brilliancy of color, and, indeed, are no more like the hippopotamus in
its own river than a prize hog is like a wild boar.
A very characteristic attitude is shown in the second animal, which
is represented as it appears when lifting its head out of the water
for the purpose of reconnoitring. The horse-like expression is easily
recognizable, and Mr. Baines tells me that he never understood how
appropriate was the term River Horse (which is the literal translation
of the word hippopotamus) until he saw the animals disporting
themselves at liberty in their own streams.
In the front of the canoes is standing Makáta, about to plunge the
harpoon into the back of the hippopotamus, while his assistants are
looking after the rope, and keeping themselves in readiness to paddle
out of the way of the animal, should it make an attack. Perfect
stillness is required for planting the harpoon properly, as, if a
splash were made in the water, or a sudden noise heard on land, the
animals would take flight, and keep out of the way of the canoes.
On the left is a clump of the tall reeds which have already been
mentioned, accompanied by some papyrus. The huge trees seen on the
bank are baobabs, which sometimes attain the enormous girth of a
hundred feet and even more. The small white flowers that are floating
on the surface of the water are the white lotus. They shine out very
conspicuously on the bosom of the clear, deep-blue water, and sometimes
occur in such numbers that they look like stars in the blue firmament,
rather than mere flowers on the water. It is rather curious, by the
way, that the Damaras, who are much more familiar with the land than
the water, call the hippopotamus the Water Rhinoceros, whereas the
Makoba, Batoka, and other tribes, who are more at home on the water,
call the rhinoceros the Land Hippopotamus.
Now comes the next scene in this savage and most exciting drama. Stung
by the sudden and unexpected pang of the wound, the hippopotamus gives
a convulsive spring, which shakes the head of the harpoon out of its
socket, and leaves it only attached to the shaft by its many-stranded
rope. At this period, the animal seldom shows fight, but dashes down
the stream at its full speed, only the upper part of its head and
back being visible above the surface, and towing the canoe along as
if it were a cork. Meanwhile, the harpooner and his comrades hold
tightly to the rope, paying out if necessary, and hauling in whenever
possible--in fact, playing their gigantic prey just as an angler plays
a large fish. Their object is twofold, first to tire the animal, and
then to get it into shallow water; for a hippopotamus in all its
strength, and with the advantage of deep water, would be too much even
for these courageous hunters. The pace that the animal attains is
something wonderful, and, on looking at its apparently clumsy means of
propulsion, the swiftness of its course is really astonishing.
Sometimes, but very rarely, it happens that the animal is so active
and fierce, that the hunters are obliged to cast loose the rope, and
make off as they best can. They do not, however, think of abandoning
so valuable a prey--not to mention the harpoon and rope--and manage
as well as they can to keep the animal in sight. At the earliest
opportunity, they paddle toward the wounded, and by this time weakened
animal, and renew the chase.
The hippopotamus is most dangerous when he feels his strength failing,
and with the courage of despair dashes at the canoe. The hunters have
then no child’s play before them. Regardless of everything but pain and
fury, the animal rushes at the canoe, tries to knock it to pieces by
blows from his enormous head, or seizes the edge in his jaws, and tears
out the side. Should he succeed in capsizing or destroying the canoe,
the hunters have an anxious time to pass; for if the furious animal
can gripe one of them in his huge jaws, the curved, chisel-like teeth
inflict certain death, and have been known to cut an unfortunate man
fairly in two.
Whenever the animal does succeed in upsetting or breaking the boat,
the men have recourse to a curious expedient. They dive to the bottom
of the river, and grasp a stone, a root, or anything that will keep
them below the surface, and hold on as long as their lungs will allow
them. The reason for this manœuvre is, that when the animal has sent
the crew into the river, it raises its head, as seen on page 343, and
looks about on the surface for its enemies. It has no idea of foes
beneath the surface, and if it does not see anything that looks like a
man, it makes off, and so allows the hunters to emerge, half drowned,
into the air. In order to keep off the animal, spears are freely used;
some being thrust at him by hand, and others flung like javelins.
They cannot, however, do much harm, unless one should happen to enter
the eye, which is so well protected by its bony penthouse that it is
almost impregnable to anything except a bullet. The head is one huge
mass of solid bone, so thick and hard that even fire-arms make little
impression on it, except in one or two small spots. The hunters,
therefore, cannot expect to inflict any material damage on the animal,
and only hope to deter it from charging by the pain which the spears
can cause.
[Illustration: (1.) SPEARING THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. (See page 342.)]
[Illustration: (2.) THE FINAL ATTACK. (See page 345.)]
The last scene is now approaching. Having effectually tired the animal,
which is also weakened by loss of blood from the wound, and guided it
into shallow water, several of the crew jump overboard, carry the end
of the rope ashore, and pass it with a “double turn” round a tree. The
fate of the animal is then sealed. Finding itself suddenly checked
in its course, it makes new efforts, and fights and struggles as if
it were quite fresh. Despite the pain, it tries to tear itself away
from the fatal cord; but the rope is too strong to be broken, and the
inch-thick hide of the hippopotamus holds the barb so firmly that even
the enormous strength and weight of the animal cannot cause it to give
way. Finding that a fierce pull in one direction is useless, it rushes
in another, and thus slackens the rope, which is immediately hauled
taut by the hunters on shore, so that the end is much shortened, and
the animal brought nearer to the bank. Each struggle only has the same
result, the hunters holding the rope fast as long as there is a strain
upon it, and hauling it in as soon as it is slackened. The reader may
easily see how this is done by watching a sailor make fast a steamer to
the pier, a single man being able to resist the strain of several tons.
As soon as the hippopotamus is hauled up close to the bank, and its
range of movements limited, the rope is made fast, and the hunters all
combine for the final assault. Armed with large, heavy, long-bladed
spears, made for the express purpose, they boldly approach the
infuriated animal, and hurl their weapons at him. Should the water be
deep beyond him, some of the hunters take to their canoes, and are able
to attack the animal with perfect security, because the rope which
is affixed to the tree prevents him from reaching them. At last, the
unfortunate animal, literally worried to death by numerous wounds, none
of which would be immediately fatal, succumbs to fatigue and loss of
blood, and falls, never to rise again.
The second illustration on page 343 represents this, the most active
and exciting scene of the three. In the centre is the hippopotamus,
which has been driven into shallow water, and is plunging about in
mingled rage and terror. With his terrible jaws he has already crushed
the shaft of the harpoon, and is trying to bite the cords which secure
the head to the shaft. He has severed a few of them, but the others are
lying entangled among his teeth, and retain their hold. Some of the
hunters have just carried the end of the rope ashore, and are going to
pass it round the trunk of the tree, while some of their comrades are
boldly attacking the animal on foot, and others are coming up behind
him in canoes.
On the Zambesi River, a harpoon is used which is made on a similar
principle, but which differs in several details of construction.
The shaft is made of light wood, and acts as a float. The head fits
into a socket, like that which has already been mentioned; but,
instead of being secured to the shaft by a number of small cords, it
is fastened to one end of the long rope, the other end of which is
attached to the butt of the shaft. When arranged for use, the rope is
wound spirally round the shaft, which it covers completely. As soon
as the hippopotamus is struck, the shaft is shaken from the head by
the wounded animals struggles, the rope is unwound, and the light
shaft acts as a buoy, whereby the rope can be recovered, in case the
hippopotamus should sever it, or the hunters should be obliged to cast
it loose.
Sometimes these tribes, _i. e._ the Makololo, Bayeye, and others, use
a singularly ingenious raft in this sport. Nothing can be simpler than
the construction of this raft. A quantity of reeds are cut down just
above the surface, and are thrown in a heap upon the water. More reeds
are then cut, and thrown crosswise upon the others, and so the natives
proceed until the raft is formed. No poles, beams, nor other supports,
are used, neither are the reeds lashed together in bundles. They are
merely flung on the water, and left to entangle themselves into form.
By degrees the lower reeds become soaked with water, and sink, so that
fresh material must be added above. Nothing can look more insecure or
fragile than this rude reed-raft, and yet it is far safer than the
canoe. It is, in fact, so strong that it allows a mast to be erected on
it. A stout pole is merely thrust into the centre of the reedy mass,
and remains fixed without the assistance of stays. To this mast is
fastened a long rope, by means of which the raft can be moored when the
voyagers wish to land. One great advantage of the raft is, the extreme
ease with which it is made. Three or four skilful men can in the course
of an hour build a raft which is strong enough to bear them and all
their baggage.
The canoes are always kept fastened to the raft, so that the crew can
go ashore whenever they like, though they do not seem to tow or guide
the raft, which is simply allowed to float down the stream, and steers
itself without the aid of a rudder. Should it meet with any obstacle,
it only swings round and disentangles itself; and the chief difficulty
in its management is its aptitude to become entangled in overhanging
branches.
Such a raft as this is much used in the chase of the hippopotamus. It
looks like a mere mass of reeds floating down the stream, and does not
alarm the wary animal as much as a boat would be likely to do. When the
natives use the raft in pursuit of the hippopotamus, they always haul
their canoes upon it, so that they are ready to be launched in pursuit
of the buoy as soon as the animal is struck.
The same tribes use reeds if they wish to cross the river. They cut a
quantity of them, and throw them into the river as if they were going
to make a raft. They then twist up some of the reeds at each corner, so
as to look like small posts, and connect these posts by means of sticks
or long reeds, by way of bulwarks. In this primitive ferry-boat the man
seats himself, and is able to carry as much luggage as he likes, the
simple bulwarks preventing it from falling overboard.
It is rather a strange thing that a Makololo cannot be induced to
plant the mango tree, the men having imbibed the notion from other
tribes among whom they had been travelling. They are exceedingly fond
of its fruit, as well they may be, it being excellent, and supplying
the natives with food for several weeks, while it may be plucked in
tolerable abundance during four months of the year. Yet all the trees
are self-planted, the natives believing that any one who plants one of
these trees will soon die. This superstition is prevalent throughout
the whole of this part of Africa, the Batoka being almost the only
tribe among whom it does not prevail.
The Makololo have contrived to make themselves victims to a wonderful
number of superstitions. This is likely enough, seeing that they are
essentially usurpers, having swept through a vast number of tribes,
and settled themselves in the country of the vanquished. Now, there is
nothing more contagious than superstition, and, in such a case, the
superstitions of the conquered tribes are sure to be added to those of
the victors.
The idea that certain persons can change themselves into the forms of
animals prevails among them. One of these potent conjurers came to Dr.
Livingstone’s party, and began to shake and tremble in every limb as he
approached. The Makololo explained that the Pondoro, as these men are
called, smelled the gunpowder, and, on account of his leonine habits,
he was very much afraid of it. The interpreter was asked to offer the
Pondoro a bribe of a cloth to change himself into a lion forthwith, but
the man declined to give the message, through genuine fear that the
transformation might really take place.
The Pondoro in question was really a clever man. He used to go off into
the woods for a month at a time, during which period he was supposed
to be a lion. His wife had built him a hut under the shade of a baobab
tree, and used to bring him regular supplies of food and beer, his
leonine appetite being supposed to be subsidiary to that which belonged
to him as a human being. No one is allowed to enter this hut except the
Pondoro and his wife, and not even the chief will venture so much as to
rest his weapons against the baobab tree; and so strictly is this rule
observed that the chief of the village wished to inflict a fine on some
of Dr. Livingstone’s party, because they had placed their guns against
the sacred hut.
Sometimes the Pondoro is believed to be hunting for the benefit of
the village, catching and killing game as a lion, and then resuming
his human form, and telling the people where the dead animal is
lying. There is also among these tribes a belief that the spirits of
departed chiefs enter the bodies of lions, and this belief may probably
account for the fear which they feel when opposed to a lion, and their
unwillingness to attack the animal. In Livingstone’s “Zambesi and its
tributaries,” there is a passage which well illustrates the prevalence
of this feeling.
“On one occasion, when we had shot a buffalo in the path beyond the
Kapie, a hungry lion, attracted probably by the smell of the meat, came
close to our camp, and roused up all hands by his roaring. Tuba Mokoro
(the ‘Canoe-smasher’), imbued with the popular belief that the beast
was a chief in disguise, scolded him roundly during his brief intervals
of silence. ‘_You_ a chief! Eh! You call yourself a chief, do you? What
kind of a chief are you, to come sneaking about in the dark, trying
to steal our buffalo-meat? Are you not ashamed of yourself? A pretty
chief, truly! You are like the scavenger-beetle, and think of yourself
only. You have not the heart of a chief; why don’t you kill your
own beef? You must have a stone in your chest, and no heart at all,
indeed.’”
The “Canoe-smasher” producing no effect by his impassioned outcry, the
lion was addressed by another man named Malonga, the most sedate and
taciturn of the party. “In his slow, quiet way he expostulated with him
on the impropriety of such conduct to strangers who had never injured
him. ‘We were travelling peaceably through the country back to our own
chief. We never killed people, nor stole anything. The buffalo-meat
was ours, not his, and it did not become a great chief like him to be
prowling about in the dark, trying, like a hyæna, to steal the meat of
strangers. He might go and hunt for himself, as there was plenty of
game in the forest.’ The Pondoro being deaf to reason, and only roaring
the louder, the men became angry, and threatened to send a ball through
him if he did not go away. They snatched up their guns to shoot him,
but he prudently kept in the dark, outside of the luminous circle made
by our camp fires, and there they did not like to venture.”
Another superstition is very prevalent among these tribes. It is to
the effect that every animal is specially affected by an appropriate
medicine. Ordinary medicines are prepared by the regular witch-doctors,
of whom there are plenty; but special medicines require special
professionals. One man, for example, takes as his specialty the
preparation of elephant medicine, and no hunter will go after the
elephant without providing himself with some of the potent medicine.
Another makes crocodile medicine, the use of which is to protect its
owner from the crocodile. On one occasion, when the white man had shot
a crocodile as it lay basking in the sun, the doctors came in wrath,
and remonstrated with their visitors for shooting an animal which they
looked upon as their special property. On another occasion, when a
baited hook was laid for the crocodile, the doctors removed the bait,
partly because it was a dog, and they preferred to eat it themselves,
and partly because any diminution in the number of crocodiles would
cause a corresponding loss of fees.
Then since the introduction of fire-arms there are gun-doctors, who
make medicines that enable the gun to shoot straight. Sulphur is
the usual gun medicine, and is mostly administered by making little
incisions in the hands, and rubbing the sulphur into them. Magic dice
are also used, and are chiefly employed for the discovery of thieves.
Even the white men have come to believe in the efficacy of the dice,
and the native conjurer is consulted as often by the Portuguese as by
his own countrymen.