The Steamer in difficulties--Elephant hunting--Arrival at
Chibisa's--Search for Lake Nyassa--The Manganja country--Weavers and
smelters--Lake Pamalombe.
Late in the afternoon of the first day's steaming, after we left the
wooding-place, we called at the village of Chikanda-Kadze, a female
chief, to purchase rice for our men; but we were now in the blissful
region where time is absolutely of no account, and where men may sit down
and rest themselves when tired; so they requested us to wait till next
day, and they would then sell us some food. As our forty black men,
however, had nothing to cook for supper, we were obliged to steam on to
reach a village a few miles above. When we meet those who care not
whether we purchase or let it alone, or who think men ought only to be in
a hurry when fleeing from an enemy, our ideas about time being money, and
the power of the purse, receives a shock. The state of eager
competition, which in England wears out both mind and body, and makes
life bitter, is here happily unknown. The cultivated spots are mere dots
compared to the broad fields of rich soil which is never either grazed or
tilled. Pity that the plenty in store for all, from our Father's
bountiful hands, is not enjoyed by more.
The wretched little steamer could not carry all the hands we needed; so,
to lighten her, we put some into the boats and towed them astern. In the
dark, one of the boats was capsized; but all in it, except one poor
fellow who could not swim, were picked up. His loss threw a gloom over
us all, and added to the chagrin we often felt at having been so
ill-served in our sorry craft.
Next day we arrived at the village of Mboma (16 degrees 56 minutes 30
seconds S.), where the people raised large quantities of rice, and were
eager traders; the rice was sold at wonderfully low rates, and we could
not purchase a tithe of the food brought for sale.
A native minstrel serenaded us in the evening, playing several quaint
tunes on a species of one stringed fiddle, accompanied by wild, but not
unmusical songs. He told the Makololo that he intended to play all night
to induce us to give him a present. The nights being cold, the
thermometer falling to 47 degrees, with occasional fogs, he was asked if
he was not afraid of perishing from cold; but, with the genuine spirit of
an Italian organ-grinder, he replied, "Oh, no; I shall spend the night
with my white comrades in the big canoe; I have often heard of the white
men, but have never seen them till now, and I must sing and play well to
them." A small piece of cloth, however, bought him off, and he moved
away in good humour. The water of the river was 70 degrees at sunrise,
which was 23 degrees warmer than the air at the same time, and this
caused fogs, which rose like steam off the river. When this is the case
cold bathing in the mornings at this time of the year is improper, for,
instead of a glow on coming out, one is apt to get a chill; the air being
so much colder than the water.
A range of hills, commencing opposite Senna, comes to within two or three
miles of Mboma village, and then runs in a north-westerly direction; the
principal hill is named Malawe; a number of villages stand on its tree-
covered sides, and coal is found cropping out in the rocks. The country
improves as we ascend, the rich valley becoming less swampy, and adorned
with a number of trees.
Both banks are dotted with hippopotamus traps, over every track which
these animals have made in going up out of the water to graze. The
hippopotamus feeds on grass alone, and, where there is any danger, only
at night. Its enormous lips act like a mowing-machine, and form a path
of short-cropped grass as it feeds. We never saw it eat aquatic plants
or reeds. The tusks seem weapons of both offence and defence. The
hippopotamus trap consists of a beam five or six feet long, armed with a
spear-head or hard-wood spike, covered with poison, and suspended to a
forked pole by a cord, which, coming down to the path, is held by a
catch, to be set free when the beast treads on it. Being wary brutes,
they are still very numerous. One got frightened by the ship, as she was
steaming close to the bank. In its eager hurry to escape it rushed on
shore, and ran directly under a trap, when down came the heavy beam on
its back, driving the poisoned spear-head a foot deep into its flesh. In
its agony it plunged back into the river, to die in a few hours, and
afterwards furnished a feast for the natives. The poison on the spear-
head does not affect the meat, except the part around the wound, and that
is thrown away. In some places the descending beam is weighted with
heavy stones, but here the hard heavy wood is sufficient.
"She is leaking worse than ever forward, sir, and there is a foot of
water in the hold," was our first salutation on the morning of the 20th.
But we have become accustomed to these things now; the cabin-floor is
always wet, and one is obliged to mop up the water many times a day,
giving some countenance to the native idea that Englishmen live in or on
the water, and have no houses but ships. The cabin is now a favourite
breeding-place for mosquitoes, and we have to support both the ship-bred
and shore-bred bloodsuckers, of which several species show us their
irritating attentions. A large brown sort, called by the Portuguese
_mansos_ (tame), flies straight to its victim, and goes to work at once,
as though it were an invited guest. Some of the small kinds carry
uncommonly sharp lancets, and very potent poison. "What would these
insects eat, if we did not pass this way?" becomes a natural question.
The juices of plants, and decaying vegetable matter in the mud, probably
form the natural food of mosquitoes, and blood is not necessary for their
existence. They appear so commonly at malarious spots, that their
presence may be taken as a hint to man to be off to more healthy
localities. None appear on the high lands. On the low lands they swarm
in myriads. The females alone are furnished with the biting apparatus,
and their number appears to be out of all proportion in excess of the
males. At anchor, on a still evening, they were excessively annoying;
and the sooner we took refuge under our mosquito curtains, the better.
The miserable and sleepless night that only one mosquito inside the
curtain can cause, is so well known, and has been so often described,
that it is needless to describe it here. One soon learns, from
experience, that to beat out the curtains thoroughly before entering
them, so that not one of these pests can possibly be harboured within, is
the only safeguard against such severe trials to one's tranquillity and
temper.
A few miles above Mboma we came again to the village (16 degrees 44
minutes 30 seconds S.) of the chief Tingane, the beat of whose war-drums
can speedily muster some hundreds of armed men. The bows and poisoned
arrows here are of superior workmanship to those below. Mariano's slave-
hunting parties stood in great awe of these barbed arrows, and long kept
aloof from Tingane's villages. His people were friendly enough with us
now, and covered the banks with a variety of articles for sale. The
majestic mountain, Chipirone, to which we have given the name of Mount
Clarendon, now looms in sight, and further to the N.W. the southern end
of the grand Milanje range rises in the form of an unfinished sphinx
looking down on Lake Shirwa. The Ruo (16 degrees 31 minutes 0 seconds
S.) is said to have its source in the Milanje mountains, and flows to the
S.W., to join the Shire some distance above Tingane's. A short way
beyond the Ruo lies the Elephant marsh, or Nyanja Mukulu, which is
frequented by vast herds of these animals. We believe that we counted
eight hundred elephants in sight at once. In the choice of such a strong
hold, they have shown their usual sagacity, for no hunter can get near
them through the swamps. They now keep far from the steamer; but, when
she first came up, we steamed into the midst of a herd, and some were
shot from the ship's deck. A single lesson was sufficient to teach them
that the steamer was a thing to be avoided; and at the first glimpse they
are now off two or three miles to the midst of the marsh, which is
furrowed in every direction by wandering branches of the Shire. A fine
young elephant was here caught alive, as he was climbing up the bank to
follow his retreating dam. When laid hold of, he screamed with so much
energy that, to escape a visit from the enraged mother, we steamed off,
and dragged him through the water by the proboscis. As the men were
holding his trunk over the gunwale, Monga, a brave Makololo
elephant-hunter, rushed aft, and drew his knife across it in a sort of
frenzy peculiar to the chase. The wound was skilfully sewn up, and the
young animal soon became quite tame, but, unfortunately the breathing
prevented the cut from healing, and he died in a few days from loss of
blood. Had he lived, and had we been able to bring him home, he would
have been the first _African_ elephant ever seen in England. The African
male elephant is from ten to a little over eleven feet in height, and
differs from the Asiatic species more particularly in the convex shape of
his forehead, and the enormous size of his ears. In Asia many of the
males, and all the females, are without tusks, but in Africa both sexes
are provided with these weapons. The enamel in the molar teeth is
arranged differently in the two species. By an admirable provision, new
teeth constantly come up at the part where in man the wisdom teeth
appear, and these push the others along, and out at the front end of the
jaws, thus keeping the molars sound by renewal, till the animal attains a
very great age. The tusks of animals from dry rocky countries are very
munch more dense and heavier than those from wet and marshy districts,
but the latter attain much the larger size.
The Shire marshes support prodigious numbers of many kinds of water-fowl.
An hour at the mast-head unfolds novel views of life in an African marsh.
Near the edge, and on the branches of some favourite tree, rest scores of
plotuses and cormorants, which stretch their snake-like necks, and in
mute amazement turn one eye and then another towards the approaching
monster. By and-by the timid ones begin to fly off, or take "headers"
into the stream; but a few of the bolder, or more composed, remain, only
taking the precaution to spread their wings ready for instant flight. The
pretty ardetta (_Herodias bubulcus_), of a light yellow colour when at
rest, but seemingly of a pure white when flying, takes wing, and sweeps
across the green grass in large numbers, often showing us where buffaloes
and elephants are, by perching on their backs. Flocks of ducks, of which
the kind called "Soriri" (_Dendrocygna personata_) is most abundant,
being night feeders, meditate quietly by the small lagoons, until
startled by the noise of the steam machinery. Pelicans glide over the
water, catching fish, while the Scopus (_Scopus umbretta_) and large
herons peer intently into pools. The large black and white spur-winged
goose (a constant marauder of native gardens) springs up, and circles
round to find out what the disturbance can be, and then settles down
again with a splash. Hundreds of Linongolos (_Anastomus lamelligerus_)
rise on the wing from the clumps of reeds, or low trees (the
_Eschinomena_, from which pith hats are made), on which they build in
colonies, and are speedily high in mid-air. Charming little red and
yellow weavers (_Ploceidae_) remind one of butterflies, as they fly in
and out of the tall grass, or hang to the mouths of their pendent nests,
chattering briskly to their mates within. These weavers seem to have
"cock nests," built with only a roof, and a perch beneath, with a doorway
on each side. The natives say they are made to protect the bird from the
rain. Though her husband is very attentive, we have seen the hen bird
tearing her mate's nest to pieces, but why we cannot tell. Kites and
vultures are busy overhead, beating the ground for their repast of
carrion; and the solemn-looking, stately-stepping Marabout, with a taste
for dead fish, or men, stalks slowly along the almost stagnant channels.
Groups of men and boys are searching diligently in various places for
lotus and other roots. Some are standing in canoes, on the weed-covered
ponds, spearing fish, while others are punting over the small
intersecting streams, to examine their sunken fish-baskets.
Towards evening, hundreds of pretty little hawks (_Erythropus
vespertinus_) are seen flying in a southerly direction, and feeding on
dragon-flies and locusts. They come, apparently, from resting on the
palm-trees during the heat of the day. Flocks of scissor-bills
(_Rhyncops_) are then also on the wing, and in search of food, ploughing
the water with their lower mandibles, which are nearly half an inch
longer than the upper ones.
At the north-eastern end of the marsh, and about three miles from the
river, commences a great forest of palm-trees (_Borassus AEthiopium_). It
extends many miles, and at one point comes close to the river. The grey
trunks and green tops of this immense mass of trees give a pleasing tone
of colour to the view. The mountain-range, which rises close behind the
palms, is generally of a cheerful green, and has many trees, with patches
of a lighter tint among them, as if spots of land had once been
cultivated. The sharp angular rocks and dells on its sides have the
appearance of a huge crystal broken; and this is so often the case in
Africa, that one can guess pretty nearly at sight whether a range is of
the old crystalline rocks or not. The Borassus, though not an
oil-bearing palm, is a useful tree. The fibrous pulp round the large
nuts is of a sweet fruity taste, and is eaten by men and elephants. The
natives bury the nuts until the kernels begin to sprout; when dug up and
broken, the inside resembles coarse potatoes, and is prized in times of
scarcity as nutritious food. During several months of the year, palm-
wine, or sura, is obtained in large quantities; when fresh, it is a
pleasant drink, somewhat like champagne, and not at all intoxicating;
though, after standing a few hours, it becomes highly so. Sticks, a foot
long, are driven into notches in the hard outside of the tree--the inside
being soft or hollow--to serve as a ladder; the top of the fruit-shoot is
cut off, and the sap, pouring out at the fresh wound, is caught in an
earthen pot, which is hung at the point. A thin slice is taken off the
end, to open the pores, and make the juice flow every time the owner
ascends to empty the pot. Temporary huts are erected in the forest, and
men and boys remain by their respective trees day and night; the nuts,
fish, and wine, being their sole food. The Portuguese use the palm-wine
as yeast, and it makes bread so light, that it melts in the mouth like
froth.
Beyond the marsh the country is higher, and has a much larger population.
We passed a long line of temporary huts, on a plain on the right bank,
with crowds of men and women hard at work making salt. They obtain it by
mixing the earth, which is here highly saline, with water, in a pot with
a small hole in it, and then evaporating the liquid, which runs through,
in the sun. From the number of women we saw carrying it off in bags, we
concluded that vast quantities must be made at these works. It is worth
observing that on soils like this, containing salt, the cotton is of
larger and finer staple than elsewhere. We saw large tracts of this rich
brackish soil both in the Shire and Zambesi valleys, and hence, probably,
sea-island cotton would do well; a single plant of it, reared by Major
Sicard, flourished and produced the long staple and peculiar tinge of
this celebrated variety, though planted only in the street at Tette; and
there also a salt efflorescence appears, probably from decomposition of
the rock, off which the people scrape it for use.
The large village of the chief, Mankokwe, occupies a site on the right
bank; he owns a number of fertile islands, and is said to be the Rundo,
or paramount chief, of a large district. Being of an unhappy suspicious
disposition, he would not see us; so we thought it best to move on,
rather than spend time in seeking his favour.
On the 25th August we reached Dakanamoio island, opposite the
perpendicular bluff on which Chibisa's village stands; he had gone, with
most of his people, to live near the Zambesi, but his headman was civil,
and promised us guides and whatever else we needed. A few of the men
were busy cleaning, sorting, spinning, and weaving cotton. This is a
common sight in nearly every village, and each family appears to have its
patch of cotton, as our own ancestors in Scotland had each his patch of
flax. Near sunset an immense flock of the large species of horn-bill
(_Buceros cristatus_) came here to roost on the great trees which skirt
the edge of the cliff. They leave early in the morning, often before
sunrise, for their feeding-places, coming and going in pairs. They are
evidently of a loving disposition, and strongly attached to each other,
the male always nestling close beside his mate. A fine male fell to the
ground, from fear, at the report of Dr. Kirk's gun; it was caught and
kept on board; the female did not go off in the mornings to feed with the
others, but flew round the ship, anxiously trying, by her plaintive
calls, to induce her beloved one to follow her: she came again in the
evenings to repeat the invitations. The poor disconsolate captive soon
refused to eat, and in five days died of grief, because he could not have
her company. No internal injury could be detected after death.
Chibisa and his wife, with a natural show of parental feeling, had told
the Doctor, on his previous visit, that a few years before some of
Chisaka's men had kidnapped and sold their little daughter, and that she
was now a slave to the padre at Tette. On his return to Tette, the
Doctor tried hard to ransom and restore the girl to her parents, and
offered twice the value of a slave; the padre seemed willing, but she
could not be found. This padre was better than the average men of the
country; and, being always civil and obliging, would probably have
restored her gratuitously, but she had been sold, it might be to the
distant tribe Bazizulu, or he could not tell where. Custom had rendered
his feelings callous, and Chibisa had to be told that his child would
never return. It is this callous state of mind which leads some of our
own blood to quote Scripture in support of slavery. If we could afford
to take a backward step in civilization, we might find men among
ourselves who would in like manner prove Mormonism or any other enormity
to be divine.
We left the ship on the 28th of August, 1859, for the discovery of Lake
Nyassa. Our party numbered forty-two in all--four whites, thirty-six
Makololo, and two guides. We did not actually need so many, either for
carriage or defence; but took them because we believed that, human nature
being everywhere the same, blacks are as ready as whites to take
advantage of the weak, and are as civil and respectful to the powerful.
We armed our men with muskets, which gave us influence, although it did
not add much to our strength, as most of the men had never drawn a
trigger, and in any conflict would in all probability have been more
dangerous to us than the enemy.
Our path crossed the valley, in a north-easterly direction, up the course
of a beautiful flowing stream. Many of the gardens had excellent cotton
growing in them. An hour's march brought us to the foot of the Manganja
hills, up which lay the toilsome road. The vegetation soon changed; as
we rose bamboos appeared, and new trees and plants were met with, which
gave such incessant employment to Dr. Kirk, that he travelled the
distance three times over. Remarkably fine trees, one of which has oil-
yielding seeds, and belongs to the mahogany family, grow well in the
hollows along the rivulet courses. The ascent became very fatiguing, and
we were glad of a rest. Looking back from an elevation of a thousand
feet, we beheld a lovely prospect. The eye takes in at a glance the
valley beneath, and the many windings of its silver stream Makubula, or
Kubvula, from the shady hill-side, where it emerges in foaming haste, to
where it slowly glides into the tranquil Shire; then the Shire itself is
seen for many a mile above and below Chibisa's, and the great level
country beyond, with its numerous green woods; until the prospect, west
and north-west, is bounded far away by masses of peaked and dome-shaped
blue mountains, that fringe the highlands of the Maravi country.
After a weary march we halted at Makolongwi, the village of Chitimba. It
stands in a woody hollow on the first of the three terraces of the
Manganja hills, and, like all other Manganja villages, is surrounded by
an impenetrable hedge of poisonous euphorbia. This tree casts a deep
shade, which would render it difficult for bowmen to take aim at the
villagers inside. The grass does not grow beneath it, and this may be
the reason why it is so universally used, for when dry the grass would
readily convey fire to the huts inside; moreover, the hedge acts as a
fender to all flying sparks. As strangers are wont to do, we sat down
under some fine trees near the entrance of the village. A couple of
mats, made of split reeds, were spread for the white men to sit on; and
the headman brought a seguati, or present, of a small goat and a basket
of meal. The full value in beads and cotton cloth was handed to him in
return. He measured the cloth, doubled it, and then measured that again.
The beads were scrutinized; he had never seen beads of that colour
before, and should like to consult with his comrades before accepting
them, and this, after repeated examinations and much anxious talk, he
concluded to do. Meal and peas were then brought for sale. A fathom of
blue cotton cloth, a full dress for man or woman, was produced. Our
Makololo headman, Sininyane, thinking a part of it was enough for the
meal, was proceeding to tear it, when Chitimba remarked that it was a
pity to cut such a nice dress for his wife, he would rather bring more
meal. "All right," said Sininyane; "but look, the cloth is very wide, so
see that the basket which carries the meal be wide too, and add a cock to
make the meal taste nicely." A brisk trade sprang up at once, each being
eager to obtain as fine things as his neighbour,--and all were in good
humour. Women and girls began to pound and grind meal, and men and boys
chased the screaming fowls over the village, until they ran them down. In
a few hours the market was completely glutted with every sort of native
food; the prices, however, rarely fell, as they could easily eat what was
not sold.
We slept under the trees, the air being pheasant, and no mosquitoes on
the hills. According to our usual plan of marching, by early dawn our
camp was in motion. After a cup of coffee and a bit of biscuit we were
on the way. The air was deliciously cool, and the path a little easier
than that of yesterday. We passed a number of villages, occupying very
picturesque spots among the hills, and in a few hours gained the upper
terrace, 3000 feet above the level of the sea. The plateau lies west of
the Milanje mountains, and its north-eastern border slopes down to Lake
Shirwa. We were all charmed with the splendid country, and looked with
never-failing delight on its fertile plains, its numerous hills, and
majestic mountains. In some of the passes we saw bramble-berries
growing; and the many other flowers, though of great beauty, did not
remind us of youth and of home like the ungainly thorny bramble-bushes.
We were a week in crossing the highlands in a northerly direction; then
we descended into the Upper Shire Valley, which is nearly 1200 feet above
the level of the sea. This valley is wonderfully fertile, and supports a
large population. After leaving the somewhat flat-topped southern
portion, the most prominent mountain of the Zomba range is Njongone,
which has a fine stream running past its northern base. We were detained
at the end of the chain some days by one of our companions being laid up
with fever. One night we were suddenly aroused by buffaloes rushing
close by the sick-bed. We were encamped by a wood on the border of a
marsh, but our patient soon recovered, notwithstanding the unfavourable
situation, and the poor accommodation.
The Manganja country is delightfully well watered. The clear, cool,
gushing streams are very numerous. Once we passed seven fine brooks and
a spring in a single hour, and this, too, near the close of the dry
season. Mount Zomba, which is twenty miles long, and from 7000 to 8000
feet high, has a beautiful stream flowing through a verdant valley on its
summit, and running away down into Lake Shirwa. The highlands are well
wooded, and many trees, admirable for their height and timber, grow on
the various watercourses. "Is this country good for cattle?" we inquired
of a Makololo herdsman, whose occupation had given him skill in
pasturage. "Truly," he replied, "do you not see abundance of those
grasses which the cattle love, and get fat upon?" Yet the people have
but few goats, and fewer sheep. With the exception of an occasional
leopard, there are no beasts of prey to disturb domestic animals. Wool-
sheep would, without doubt, thrive on these highlands. Part of the Upper
Shire valley has a lady paramount, named Nyango; and in her dominions
women rank higher and receive more respectful treatment than their
sisters on the hills.
The hill chief, Mongazi, called his wife to take charge of a present we
had given him. She dropped down on her knees, clapping her hands in
reverence, before and after receiving our presents from his lordly hands.
It was painful to see the abject manner in which the women of the hill
tribes knelt beside the path as we passed; but a great difference took
place when we got into Nyango's country.
On entering a village, we proceeded, as all strangers do, at once to the
Boalo: mats of split reeds or bamboo were usually spread for us to sit
on. Our guides then told the men who might be there, who we were, whence
we had come, whither we wanted to go, and what were our objects. This
information was duly carried to the chief, who, if a sensible man, came
at once; but, if he happened to be timid and suspicious, waited until he
had used divination, and his warriors had time to come in from outlying
hamlets. When he makes his appearance, all the people begin to clap
their hands in unison, and continue doing so till he sits down opposite
to us. His counsellors take their places beside him. He makes a remark
or two, and is then silent for a few seconds. Our guides then sit down
in front of the chief and his counsellors, and both parties lean forward,
looking earnestly at each other; the chief repeats a word, such as
"Ambuiatu" (our Father, or master)--or "moio" (life), and all clap their
hands. Another word is followed by two claps, a third by still more
clapping, when each touches the ground with both hands placed together.
Then all rise and lean forward with measured clap, and sit down again
with clap, clap, clap, fainter, and still fainter, till the last dies
away, or is brought to an end by a smart loud clap from the chief. They
keep perfect time in this species of court etiquette. Our guides now
tell the chief, often in blank verse, all they have already told his
people, with the addition perhaps of their own suspicions of the
visitors. He asks some questions, and then converses with us through the
guides. Direct communication between the chief and the head of the
stranger party is not customary. In approaching they often ask who is
the spokesman, and the spokesman of the chief addresses the person
indicated exclusively. There is no lack of punctilious good manners. The
accustomed presents are exchanged with civil ceremoniousness; until our
men, wearied and hungry, call out, "English do not buy slaves, they buy
food," and then the people bring meal, maize, fowls, batatas, yams,
beans, beer, for sale.
The Manganja are an industrious race; and in addition to working in iron,
cotton, and basket-making, they cultivate the soil extensively. All the
people of a village turn out to labour in the fields. It is no uncommon
thing to see men, women, and children hard at work, with the baby lying
close by beneath a shady bush. When a new piece of woodland is to be
cleared, they proceed exactly as farmers do in America. The trees are
cut down with their little axes of soft native iron; trunks and branches
are piled up and burnt, and the ashes spread on the soil. The corn is
planted among the standing stumps which are left to rot. If grass land
is to be brought under cultivation, as much tall grass as the labourer
can conveniently lay hold of is collected together and tied into a knot.
He then strikes his hoe round the tufts to sever the roots, and leaving
all standing, proceeds until the whole ground assumes the appearance of a
field covered with little shocks of corn in harvest. A short time before
the rains begin, these grass shocks are collected in small heaps, covered
with earth, and burnt, the ashes and burnt soil being used to fertilize
the ground. Large crops of the mapira, or Egyptian dura (_Holcus
sorghum_), are raised, with millet, beans, and ground-nuts; also patches
of yams, rice, pumpkins, cucumbers, cassava, sweet potatoes, tobacco, and
hemp, or bang (_Cannabis setiva_). Maize is grown all the year round.
Cotton is cultivated at almost every village. Three varieties of cotton
have been found in the country, namely, two foreign and one native. The
"tonje manga," or foreign cotton, the name showing that it has been
introduced, is of excellent quality, and considered at Manchester to be
nearly equal to the best New Orleans. It is perennial, but requires
replanting once in three years. A considerable amount of this variety is
grown in the Upper and Lower Shire valleys. Every family of any
importance owns a cotton patch which, from the entire absence of weeds,
seemed to be carefully cultivated. Most were small, none seen on this
journey exceeding half an acre; but on the former trip some were observed
of more than twice that size.
The "tonje cadja," or indigenous cotton, is of shorter staple, and feels
in the hand like wool. This kind has to be planted every season in the
highlands; yet, because it makes stronger cloth, many of the people
prefer it to the foreign cotton; the third variety is not found here. It
was remarked to a number of men near the Shire Lakelet, a little further
on towards Nyassa, "You should plant plenty of cotton, and probably the
English will come and buy it." "Truly," replied a far-travelled Babisa
trader to his fellows, "the country is full of cotton, and if these
people come to buy they will enrich us." Our own observation on the
cotton cultivated convinced us that this was no empty flourish, but a
fact. Everywhere we met with it, and scarcely ever entered a village
without finding a number of men cleaning, spinning, and weaving. It is
first carefully separated from the seed by the fingers, or by an iron
roller, on a little block of wood, and rove out into long soft bands
without twist. Then it receives its first twist on the spindle, and
becomes about the thickness of coarse candlewick; after being taken off
and wound into a large ball, it is given the final hard twist, and spun
into a firm cop on the spindle again: all the processes being painfully
slow.
Iron ore is dug out of the hills, and its manufacture is the staple trade
of the southern highlands. Each village has its smelting-house, its
charcoal-burners, and blacksmiths. They make good axes, spears, needles,
arrowheads, bracelets and anklets, which, considering the entire absence
of machinery, are sold at surprisingly low rates; a hoe over two pounds
in weight is exchanged for calico of about the value of fourpence. In
villages near Lake Shirwa and elsewhere, the inhabitants enter pretty
largely into the manufacture of crockery, or pottery, making by hand all
sorts of cooking, water, and grain pots, which they ornament with
plumbago found in the hills. Some find employment in weaving neat
baskets from split bamboos, and others collect the fibre of the buaze,
which grows abundantly on the hills, and make it into fish-nets. These
they either use themselves, or exchange with the fishermen on the river
or lakes for dried fish and salt. A great deal of native trade is
carried on between the villages, by means of barter in tobacco, salt,
dried fish, skins, and iron. Many of the men are intelligent-looking,
with well-shaped heads, agreeable faces, and high foreheads. We soon
learned to forget colour, and we frequently saw countenances resembling
those of white people we had known in England, which brought back the
looks of forgotten ones vividly before the mind. The men take a good
deal of pride in the arrangement of their hair; the varieties of style
are endless. One trains his long locks till they take the admired form
of the buffalo's horns; others prefer to let their hair hang in a thick
coil down their backs, like that animal's tail; while another wears it in
twisted cords, which, stiffened by fillets of the inner bark of a tree
wound spirally round each curl, radiate from the head in all directions.
Some have it hanging all round the shoulders in large masses; others
shave it off altogether. Many shave part of it into ornamental figures,
in which the fancy of the barber crops out conspicuously. About as many
dandies run to seed among the blacks as among the whites. The Man ganja
adorn their bodies extravagantly, wearing rings on their fingers and
thumbs, besides throatlets, bracelets, and anklets of brass, copper, or
iron. But the most wonderful of ornaments, if such it may be called, is
the pelele, or upper-lip ring of the women. The middle of the upper lip
of the girls is pierced close to the septum of the nose, and a small pin
inserted to prevent the puncture closing up. After it has healed, the
pin is taken out and a larger one is pressed into its place, and so on
successively for weeks, and months, and years. The process of increasing
the size of the lip goes on till its capacity becomes so great that a
ring of two inches diameter can be introduced with ease. All the
highland women wear the pelele, and it is common on the Upper and Lower
Shire. The poorer classes make them of hollow or of solid bamboo, but
the wealthier of ivory or tin. The tin pelele is often made in the form
of a small dish. The ivory one is not unlike a napkin-ring. No woman
ever appears in public without the pelele, except in times of mourning
for the dead. It is frightfully ugly to see the upper lip projecting two
inches beyond the tip of the nose. When an old wearer of a hollow bamboo
ring smiles, by the action of the muscles of the cheeks, the ring and lip
outside it are dragged back and thrown above the eyebrows. The nose is
seen through the middle of the ring, amid the exposed teeth show how
carefully they have been chipped to look like those of a cat or
crocodile. The pelele of an old lady, Chikanda Kadze, a chieftainess,
about twenty miles north of Morambala, hung down below her chin, with, of
course, a piece of the upper lip around its border. The labial letters
cannot be properly pronounced, but the under lip has to do its best for
them, against the upper teeth and gum. Tell them it makes them ugly;
they had better throw it away; they reply, "Kodi! Really! it is the
fashion." How this hideous fashion originated is an enigma. Can thick
lips ever have been thought beautiful, and this mode of artificial
enlargement resorted to in consequence? The constant twiddling of the
pelele with the tongue by the younger women suggested the irreverent idea
that it might have been invented to give safe employment to that little
member. "Why do the women wear these things?" we inquired of the old
chief, Chinsunse. Evidently surprised at such a stupid question, he
replied, "For beauty, to be sure! Men have beards and whiskers; women
have none; and what kind of creature would a woman be without whiskers,
and without the pelele? She would have a mouth like a man, and no beard;
ha! ha! ha!" Afterwards on the Rovuma, we found men wearing the pelele,
as well as women. An idea suggested itself on seeing the effects of the
slight but constant pressure exerted on the upper gum and front teeth, of
which our medical brethren will judge the value. In many cases the upper
front teeth, instead of the natural curve outwards, which the row
presents, had been pressed so as to appear as if the line of alveoli in
which they were planted had an inward curve. As this was produced by the
slight pressure of the pelele backwards, persons with too prominent teeth
might by slight, but long-continued pressure, by some appliance only as
elastic as the lip, have the upper gum and teeth depressed, especially in
youth, more easily than is usually imagined. The pressure should be
applied to the upper gum more than to the teeth.
The Manganja are not a sober people: they brew large quantities of beer,
and like it well. Having no hops, or other means of checking
fermentation, they are obliged to drink the whole brew in a few days, or
it becomes unfit for use. Great merry-makings take place on these
occasions, and drinking, drumming, and dancing continue day and night,
till the beer is gone. In crossing the hills we sometimes found whole
villages enjoying this kind of mirth. The veteran traveller of the party
remarked, that he had not seen so much drunkenness during all the sixteen
years he had spent in Africa. As we entered a village one afternoon, not
a man was to be seen; but some women were drinking beer under a tree. In
a few moments the native doctor, one of the innocents, "nobody's enemy
but his own," staggered out of a hut, with his cupping-horn dangling from
his neck, and began to scold us for a breach of etiquette. "Is this the
way to come into a man's village, without sending him word that you are
coming?" Our men soon pacified the fuddled but good-humoured medico,
who, entering his beer-cellar, called on two of them to help him to carry
out a huge pot of beer, which he generously presented to us. While the
"medical practitioner" was thus hospitably employed, the chief awoke in a
fright, and shouted to the women to run away, or they would all be
killed. The ladies laughed at the idea of their being able to run away,
and remained beside the beer-pots. We selected a spot for our camp, our
men cooked the dinner as usual, and we were quietly eating it, when
scores of armed men, streaming with perspiration, came pouring into the
village. They looked at us, then at each other, and turning to the chief
upbraided him for so needlessly sending for them. "These people are
peaceable; they do not hurt you; you are killed with beer:" so saying,
they returned to their homes.
Native beer has a pinkish colour, and the consistency of gruel. The
grain is made to vegetate, dried in the sun, pounded into meal, and
gently boiled. When only a day or two old, the beer is sweet, with a
slight degree of acidity, which renders it a most grateful beverage in a
hot climate, or when fever begets a sore craving for acid drinks. A
single draught of it satisfies this craving at once. Only by deep and
long-continued potations can intoxication be produced: the grain being in
a minutely divided state, it is a good way of consuming it, and the
decoction is very nutritious. At Tette a measure of beer is exchanged
for an equal-sized pot full of grain. A present of this beer, so
refreshing to our dark comrades, was brought to us in nearly every
village. Beer-drinking does not appear to produce any disease, or to
shorten life on the hills. Never before did we see so many old, grey-
headed men and women; leaning on their staves they came with the others
to see the white men. The aged chief, Muata Manga, could hardly have
been less than ninety years of age; his venerable appearance struck the
Makololo. "He is an old man," said they, "a very old man; his skin hangs
in wrinkles, just like that on elephants' hips." "Did you never," he was
asked, "have a fit of travelling come over you; a desire to see other
lands and people?" No, he had never felt that, and had never been far
from home in his life. For long life they are not indebted to frequent
ablutions. An old man told us that he remembered to have washed once in
his life, but it was so long since that he had forgotten how it felt.
"Why do you wash?" asked Chinsunse's women of the Makololo; "our men
never do."
The superstitious ordeal, by drinking the poisonous muave, obtains credit
here; and when a person is suspected of crime, this ordeal is resorted
to. If the stomach rejects the poison, the accused is pronounced
innocent; but if it is retained, guilt is believed to be demonstrated.
Their faith is so firm in its discriminating power, that the supposed
criminal offers of his own accord to drink it, and even chiefs are not
exempted. Chibisa, relying on its efficacy, drank it several times, in
order to vindicate his character. When asserting that all his wars had
been just, it was hinted that, as every chief had the same tale of
innocence to tell, we ought to suspend our judgment. "If you doubt my
word," said he, "give me the muave to drink." A chief at the foot of
Mount Zomba successfully went through the ordeal the day we reached his
village; and his people manifested their joy at his deliverance by
drinking beer, dancing, and drumming for two days and nights. It is
possible that the native doctor, who mixes the ingredients of the
poisoned bowl, may be able to save those whom he considers innocent; but
it is difficult to get the natives to speak about the matter, and no one
is willing to tell what the muave poison consists of. We have been shown
trees said to be used, but had always reason to doubt the accuracy of our
informants. We once found a tree in a village, with many pieces of the
bark chipped off, closely allied to the Tangena or Tanghina, the ordeal
poison tree of Madagascar; but we could not ascertain any particulars
about it. Death is inflicted on those found guilty of witchcraft, by the
muave.
The women wail for the dead two days. Seated on the ground they chant a
few plaintive words, and end each verse with the prolonged sound of a--a,
or o--o, or ea-ea-ea--a. Whatever beer is in the house of the deceased,
is poured out on the ground with the meal, and all cooking and water pots
are broken, as being of no further use. Both men and women wear signs of
mourning for their dead relatives. These consist of narrow strips of the
palm-leaf wound round the head, the arms, legs, neck, and breasts, and
worn till they drop off from decay. They believe in the existence of a
supreme being, called Mpambe, and also Morungo, and in a future state.
"We live only a few days here," said old Chinsunse, "but we live again
after death: we do not know where, or in what condition, or with what
companions, for the dead never return to tell us. Sometimes the dead do
come back, and appear to us in dreams; but they never speak nor tell us
where they have gone, nor how they fare."