preceded Cetshwayo’s defeat by Usibebu at Ulundi. My sister (Mrs.
Faye) and I were camped out some ten miles from Melmoth, when, about
midnight, the wagonette in which we were sleeping was shaken and
began to move down hill, but was fortunately stopped after a few
yards by a block of wood lying in the grass. The natives who were
near us exclaimed that it meant a calamity to the Zulu nation. And in
the morning, when we got down from the wagonette, we found a great
number of men sitting about looking sad, with their arms over their
shoulders (meaning “we are lost”). They told us that Cetshwayo had
been killed by Usibebu; in fact, the latter had made a clean sweep of
the royal kraal and all the king’s men. In less than an hour later we
saw numbers of people, some running, some limping, some crawling past
us, who had just managed to escape with their lives. Cetshwayo,
wounded badly in the leg, was saved, and taken for protection to
Eshowe, where he died early in the following year. (See Mr. Gibson’s
_The Story of the Zulus_, p. 256, new edition.)
UKUKALEL ’AMABELE
(PRAYING FOR THE CORN)
A description of an old Zulu custom which is now slowly dying out may
be found interesting. It is generally observed at the season when the
mealies and mabele (Kafir corn) are coming into flower.
The Zulus believe that there is a certain Princess in Heaven, who bears
the name of Nomkubulwana (Heavenly Princess), and who occasionally
visits their cornfields and causes them to bear abundantly. For this
princess they very often set apart a small piece of cultivated land as
a present, putting little pots of beer in it for her to drink when she
goes on her rounds. They often sprinkle the mealies and mabele with
some of the beer, for luck to the harvest.
There is one day appointed specially for girls, when they go out
fasting on to the hills, and spend the whole day weeping, fasting, and
praying, as they think that the more they fast and weep the more likely
they are to be pitied by the princess. On that day they have to wear
men’s clothing (umutsha) made of skins, and all men and boys are to
keep out of their way, neither speaking to them nor looking at them.
They start very early, as by sunrise they must be by the riverside,
ready to begin praying and weeping.[10]
Digging deep holes in the sand, they make two or three little girls sit
in them, and fill them in again, till nothing but their heads are left
showing above ground. There they must remain, weeping and praying for
some time. Girls about six years old are generally chosen for this
purpose, as they cry the most (rather from fright than anything else),
and so are most likely to catch the ear of the heavenly princess.
When the older girls think the poor little things have done their fair
share, they help them out and let them run home.
The big girls then go to the mountains and weep; after that to their
gardens, round which they walk, screaming to the heavenly princess to
have pity on them and give them a good harvest.
After this they sprinkle the gardens with beer, and set little pots of
it here and there for the princess.
About sunset the ceremonies are over, and they all go back to the river
to bathe, after which they return to their homes and break their fast.
Any girls refusing to join with the others on Nomkubulwana’s day would
lose caste, unless prevented by illness. Of course Christian girls are
not expected to join, this being an entirely heathen rite.
-----
Footnote 10:
Cf. an account of this custom (umtshopi) in Colenso’s _Zulu
Dictionary_, p. 614. A similar observance, intended to avert disease,
is described by Mrs. Hugh Lancaster Carbutt in the (South African)
_Folk-Lore Journal_ for January, 1880 (Vol. II., p. 12), as follows:
“Among the charms to prevent sickness from visiting a kraal is the
umkuba, or custom of the girls herding the cattle for a day. [Umkuba
means “custom,” it is not the name of this particular rite.] No
special season of the year is set apart for this custom. It is merely
enacted when diseases are known to be prevalent. On such an occasion
all the girls and unmarried women of a kraal rise early in the
morning, dress themselves entirely in their brothers’ skins [_i.e._,
skin kilts (umutsha)], and, taking their knobkerries and sticks, open
the cattle-pen or kraal, and drive the cattle away from the vicinity
of the homestead, none of these soi-disant herds returning home, or
going near a kraal, until sunset, when they bring the cattle back. No
one of the opposite sex dare go near the girls on this day, or speak
to them.”—We have reproduced the passage in full, as the periodical
which contains it is now very scarce. It should be noted that at
ordinary times it would be contrary to custom—indeed, highly
improper, if not sacrilegious—for any woman or girl to approach the
cattle-kraal, to say nothing of herding the cattle. The idea is, no
doubt, to compel the assistance of the Unseen by some flagrant
outrage on decency, actual or threatened.—ED.
OLD WIVES’ TALES
In addition to the many beliefs amongst the Zulus, of which I have
given some examples, which may be properly called superstitious, there
are a large number of curious half-beliefs and traditions, something of
the nature of “old wives’ tales,” to which allusion is made more or
less seriously in the ordinary course of Zulu conversation, and which
often come as a surprise to the uninitiated European. I remember being
much struck with some of these many years ago (as far back as in 1872),
when my father took me as a child for a journey through Zululand on a
visit to the great kraal of the celebrated King Mpande. On the way, as
I was getting somewhat tired, a friendly Zulu told me to press my foot
on an aloe (icena), and I should not be tired any longer. I saw no
particular harm in obeying the injunction, and whether it was from the
effect of the “icena,” or a thought cure wrought by the friendly Zulu,
I certainly managed to get on.
On the same journey I was struck by a curious idea the Zulus have
(somewhat akin to our “watched pot never boils”) as to disturbing the
ordinary processes of the vegetable kingdom. I noticed some fine
varieties of pumpkins, melons, and marrows, and, being curious to know
their names, I pointed my finger at them. “Musa, musa” (don’t, don’t),
shouted my native conductor, “they will never ripen if you point at
them. You ought always to bend your fingers and point with your
knuckles towards vegetables.” “Oh,” said I, “you might perhaps pick me
that pumpkin (indicating one of the best), as it is the only one I
pointed at, and it will prevent its rotting,” and he at once fell in
with my suggestion, adding a few marrows growing near the pumpkin,
which had also been in peril. Some of our mistakes in dealing with the
Zulus might at times lead to serious consequences; but fortunately, as
a rule they take them good naturedly, and attribute them to our
ignorance.
It is rather curious, and perhaps a little humiliating, to civilized
and superior people, to find one of their favourite nursery
tactics—the threat of the black man coming down the chimney—in vogue
(mutatis mutandis) among the Zulus. Fond Zulu mothers used to reduce
their refractory offspring to order by the threat, “I’ll take you away
to be eaten up by the white men,” and in the old times of which I am
now speaking the threat always had the desired effect, though, let us
hope in the present day, the notion of our being cannibals, if not
bogies, no longer exists, even among the Zulus.
I well remember the day when we were graciously admitted to an audience
with King Mpande, and the curious kind of awe with which the monarch
and his attendants regarded us. The King spoke to us through his chief
official, and courteously welcomed us to his Place, hoping we had not
been disturbed by a big fight which had taken place in connection with
some festivities among the Zulus near to us. It was a way his subjects
had when their blood was heated, and he had done his best to stop it.
He then noticed my long brown hair, which hung down to my waist, and
observed, “What nice tails you have adorned yourself with! where did
you get them? I should like some like that.” I said I had a private
store from which I got them, and should not like anyone else to know.
King Mpande smiled, and took it all in good part. I was the first white
girl he had seen, and he looked therefore upon me as a curiosity.
“Come nearer,” he said, “and take off your hat, so that I can have a
good look at you. How do you manage to tie the tails so neatly that no
strings are seen?” He pulled and tugged at my hair, to see whether it
would come off.
“Why, this is wonderful!” said he. “These are the tails they make under
the sea. There’s nothing on land equal to this.”
“I glue them on,” said I.
“Wow! It is well done! Do show us how you do it.”
It was beyond human nature to keep a serious face after that. We all
burst out laughing together. Then I told him that it was only my hair.
“Ngimdala!” (I am old) said the king (meaning in wisdom); and I was
asked to go round for fuller inspection. The king noticed my hands. He
said: “Her hands have a different colour to her face! Come nearer
again, let me have a look at your hands.” I obeyed. He took my hand and
felt it all over. “Mamo!” (oh! mother) “the skin moves. It is quite
loose, and look how red it is.” I had a pair of scarlet silk gloves on.
I pulled one off, an incident which caused a prodigious sensation in
the royal hut. Exclamations of surprise were heard all round. “White
girls are double skinned,” said one, “on their hands.” “They have a
white skin to suit their face, and this is covered by a loose, dark red
skin,” said the king. “Behold the artfulness of the white beings that
come out of the sea.” The glove was carefully examined, and one man,
with fear and trembling, picked it up with the tips of his fingers, but
speedily dropped it again in horror and dismay. My father then
explained to them as best he could that ladies wore gloves to protect
their hands from getting sunburnt, and we took leave of the mighty king.
Outside the door we were met by a number of his royal daughters, all
wanting to have a look at the girl from under the sea and her wonderful
hair and hands. When they had satisfied their curiosity, they asked us
to come and call on Giba, King Mpande’s celebrated snake charmer. He
was sitting in his hut training his numerous snakes to go and come in
to and out of their holes as he wanted them.
A great monster of a python was coiled round a stone in a corner,
lazily watching his inferiors at their drill, and waiting his turn.
“Ngqabitani” (the snake’s name, which means “hop down”), called out
Giba, and the monster made a move and came with a twist and a roll, and
was rewarded by a fowl to eat. It was a horrible performance.
The tendency which the Zulu has, in common with all savage or
half-civilized people, to ascribe anything unusual to magic, and to
account for the unknown by fanciful analogy (the basis, indeed, of most
of the vulgar superstitions), was curiously illustrated in this journey
by a chief whom we met and to whom my father gave a small mirror. The
Zulu looked into it, gave a start, and dropped it to the ground. “Why,
it is myself; I know, for I have seen a reflection of myself in a clear
pool. These people carry mysterious things with them.” He picked it up
gingerly, and handed it to his chief man, who, after examining it with
the caution that a detective might display in opening a parcel supposed
to contain dynamite, handed it round to the attendants, each of whom
made a study of the “ego” and the “non ego” in the wonderful “charm,”
which they took to their home and sealed up in an earthen pot.
Such are some of the curious ideas which were entertained by the Zulus
as to the white man in the old days. Since that time increased
intercourse with the white creatures from under the sea has dissipated
some of their old delusions, but even to this day a large number of the
natives look upon the white man as something weird, as a being who can
do anything, and who has about him a touch of the mysterious, if not of
the supernatural. Fortunately for us these ideas have never taken a
very serious hold on the native mind. They look upon us as strange
curiosities, but do not seriously associate our doings with the “black
arts,” ready as they are to attribute dealings with forbidden agencies
to their own people. It would have gone hard with us in the early days
if any influential chief had conceived the idea, so readily seized by
the Chinese, of designating all Europeans “foreign devils”—“Takati”
(wizards)—with unknown powers and malignant designs. Our just and
large-minded treatment of them has prevented the spread of any such
notions amongst them. Their mental attitude towards us at the present
day is one of bewildered simplicity, not unmingled with respect, and,
when their confidence is obtained, with something of the loyal
affection they have long been accustomed to entertain towards their own
chiefs and superiors.
KING MPANDE’S SNAKE CHARMER.
During King Mpande’s reign there lived in his chief kraal a most noted
and wonderful snake-charmer, who was spoken of far and wide with great
awe. He was looked upon as one who was in constant communication with
the spirits, as all snakes obeyed him. He was tall and slim, with a
withered right arm and a crooked forefinger. It was quite an easy task
for him to catch snakes in bushes, and he could even draw them out of
their holes with his crooked finger. He said he had certain kinds of
medicines which he always took, and also injected into his right arm
and finger before setting out snake-catching in the mornings, and these
prevented snake bites having any effect on him—in fact, he felt quite
safe anywhere. He would sometimes take long journeys in search of
various kinds of snakes, and on his return would call on people living
near the roadside that he might exhibit them. He generally took two or
three boys with him to carry them, and they had special bags made for
them of water-broom rushes. I shall never forget the day when the
snake-charmer called at our house and asked whether we should like to
see two big snakes he had caught that day. At first we felt rather
scared, although, at the same time, we were curious to see them, for we
had heard a great deal about this snake-charmer. So we allowed him to
get them out and show us what he could do with them. He ordered the
boys to open the bags, then gave two or three whistles, and the snakes
came crawling out very slowly and carefully. He then drew a winding
mark on the ground with his rod, which they most obediently followed,
hissing and sticking out their tongues now and then, and looking about
to see which way they were to go next, and he said that this was all he
had been able to teach them that morning. He put down his rod a moment,
then one of the snakes made for the kitchen door, where three native
girls were standing, and it went part of the way in before he could
stop it. The girls were half mad with fright; one climbed on the table,
another on the shelf, and the third went up the chimney: there was a
terrible scrimmage. But the man soon made the snake go into the bag
again. I then thought I would have some fun, so I went into my room to
fetch a big toy snake which I kept in the window to prevent the natives
from standing about there and using it as a mirror. When I brought it
out, moving and wriggling about in my hand, the charmer took to flight.
It was an ugly green and yellow thing, with open red mouth. The man
said his medicines would be no preventive against a bite from this
strange kind of snake, of which he knew nothing. But when I told him it
was only a toy, he had a good laugh over his fright. Soon after his
return to his hut at the king’s kraal we heard that some gentlemen had
gone up to pay him a visit and to ask him to let them see his snakes.
When he went away his hut would be quite safe, for the snakes were
always on the look out for strangers. The gentlemen thought it prudent
to keep at a good distance until the owner of the hut and snakes
appeared. After the usual greetings and introductions had been gone
through, the man said, “I hear you would like to see my pets; how much
will you pay me for it?” They answered that they were travellers, and
had not much with them, but that they would give him a blanket each. So
he made them go into a corner of his hut and sit down on a mat.
Presently he called out “Ngqabitani”! (his chief snake), and it came
out with a majestic twist of satisfaction. Then he whistled for
another, grunted for another, groaned for a third, hissed for a fourth,
and then rattled for the whole lot. They came out by the dozen; the
visitors found themselves surrounded by snakes of all sorts and sizes,
the great python wriggling and twisting impatiently, with a look as
much as to say, “I could swallow the whole of you if only my master
would allow me.” The man sat coolly at the door of his hut enjoying the
fun. The gentlemen called out, “Enough! enough! we have seen your pets;
do for pity’s sake call them back!” The man said, “How much will you
give me?” The answer was, “Ten blankets each—anything you like—all we
possess; only clear off your pets and let us out of this trap.” He
answered, “You shall have your wish my good friends,” and then made the
usual noises, when they all promptly returned to their holes. The
gentlemen heaved a sigh of relief, paid the man, but never will they
ask to see his pets again. They were quite satisfied.
HOW DEATH CAME INTO THE WORLD
The Zulu people believe that our first parents came out of a reed. The
Great-great-one made the reed to open, and forth came a man and a
woman. Some years after, He sent a messenger to inform the people that
they were to live for ever. This messenger, being a chameleon, was very
slow in fulfilling its errand. On the way it espied some nice berries,
of which it is very fond, and it spent quite an age in climbing up the
shrub to pick and eat the sweet little fruit. It thought that it was
unnecessary to hurry with the message—the people could wait: so it was
at no pains to perform His mission. Meanwhile the Great-great-one sent
a second messenger to tell the people that they were to die. This
messenger (being a kind of lizard, or salamander) was much quicker in
its movements, and so, arriving in the world long before the chameleon
even thought it had had enough berries to eat, it proclaimed to men:
“The Great-great-one says you must all die.” When at length the
first-sent messenger came, it was too late, for people were already
dying, and the fate of the rest could not be changed. And they said:
“Why did you delay when sent by the Great-great-one? You detestable
little, slow, crawling creature! You shall be hated for ever and ever.”
The natives still abhor this creature in connection with the legend.
They always ill-treat it, delighting to fill its mouth with snuff,
which turns it black.
THE ZULU’S CHOICEST BIT OF MEAT
If a native sends a present of meat to his chief, or anyone he respects
as far above him, he will generally send the Insonyama, that is, the
part of the flesh of a slaughtered bullock or cow which covers the ribs
and is separated from them by a moist substance which makes it very
easy of removal. This is, in native estimation, the choicest meat, and
is always eaten by the head of a family. This is a useful piece of
knowledge for those who have to do with native cases which concern
disputed inheritance. If an ox is slaughtered which belongs to any
other house of the same family, the insonyama is always taken to be
eaten in the superior’s hut. If the insonyama is taken as a present to
a superior friend, it is always considered a great compliment to cook
it beforehand and roll it up nicely in a clean mat (isitebe) ready to
be eaten.
A FRIENDLY WAY OF OBTAINING FOOD
The Zulus are a very kind and hospitable race, always willing to share
their food with others in need. In times of famine they have a way of
asking help from each other without any intention of returning the
same; this they call Ukutekela. Sometimes on meeting one another by the
way, after the usual greetings, one says to the other, “I am coming to
beg (tekela) mealies (or potatoes) of you to-morrow”; the answer would
be, “All right,” with a laugh, “you may come.”
Tekela really means begging or obtaining food, corn or potatoes, from
another, sometimes getting it as a reward for assisting to reap or
weed, or as a gift. It is one of the oldest customs which the natives
have.
For instance, a woman may go on a visit to relations or friends, and
remain with them for a short time, and while staying there assist in
whatever work is going on at the time of her visit. Then when she
leaves to return home she may be given grain of some kind to take with
her, if there is a fair supply at the kraal. A visitor hardly ever
returns home empty handed. Only in times of famine would it be possible.
Help given one to another in reaping cornfields is very commonly
acknowledged in the same fashion.
When the gardens need weeding a day is arranged on which to invite
friends to a beer-drink. The guests arrive about sunrise and weed till
about three o’clock, when the beer is brought out; but no one except
those who have assisted in the work will have a share in it, unless
they happen to be travellers or too old to work.
Natives will do a great deal to obtain beer, which is the reason why
the native fields are usually so free from weeds. But it is seldom used
before the allotted work is done—a very necessary restriction!
PEACEMAKING OVER A PINCH OF SNUFF
Very few people, I believe, know this Zulu custom of making friends.
After a severe quarrel natives will not condescend to take snuff
together on any account, although they have been the best of friends
for years. It is not till their quarrel has been settled and their
tempers cooled down that they can begin to say, “Ngi ncwebise ugwai”
(give me a pinch of snuff)—and even then the one asked may refuse and
say “’Tis too soon my friend, irritate me not, I pray.” The following
is an instance:—
Two handsome young men, who had been friends ever since they were quite
little lads, and who had joined the same regiment, fell in love with a
very beautiful girl, who was a chief’s daughter. These young men were
inseparable; wherever the one went the other was sure to go. Whether it
was to a hunt, beer drink, wedding, or dance they always went together.
There was a certain chief who took a liking to these two young men, for
they were very cheerful and amusing, so he encouraged them to come to
all his entertainments. One used to ornament himself with white beads
and tigers’ claws and white ostrich feathers, the other with red beads
and black and red feathers. They each carried a nice assagai and a
couple of knobkerries and a courting shield. They always looked neat
and nice, for they made a point of greasing themselves well before
setting out anywhere.
This chief had a most beautiful daughter who was greatly beloved by old
and young, for she was kind and pleasant to everybody. Her father
always chose her to serve the beer round to the visitors, she did it so
gracefully and willingly. These two young men were greatly struck with
the girl, and both fell in love with her. The one in red decided at
once to win her, but how to set about it was a puzzle, for he never
before had gone anywhere without his friend, and he didn’t know what
excuse to make to go off alone. But the next day he got a very good
opportunity, for his friend was taken ill and could not attend a dance
he had promised to go to. The one in red had to go alone and make
excuses for the other. Between the dances he got a chance to try his
luck with the young lady, and was rejected at once for having the
impudence to wear the Royal colours. (Those red beads were worn in
those days only by royalty, also the red parrot feathers.) This maiden
thought he could not be trusted: he would venture too much, and end by
getting killed.
He went back disappointed and annoyed, but did not let his friend know
anything about it, for he intended to try again. When his friend had
recovered they went together to call on the chief. His daughter brought
in some beer. It was noticed that she paid most attention to the one in
white, and of course that gave him hope at once. As soon as she left
the hut the young man said: “Your daughter, chief of the great house,
has won my heart. How much would you want for her? How many head of
cattle?”
The chief answered, “You are a handsome, promising lad. Of another I
should ask for her sixty, but I would let you off with thirty.”
The young man was delighted with this answer. He took the very next
opportunity to propose and was accepted.
His friend was furiously angry, and swore a solemn oath that now their
friendship had come to an end, and they would be enemies for the rest
of their lives, “For,” said he, “I was first in the field.”
They parted there and then. The lucky man sent the thirty head of
cattle the very next day to make sure of his future bride, and the
matter was properly settled. He was very happy, but still he missed his
dear old friend who had left him in anger.
Whenever they met, he said to him, “dear friend of my youth and life,
come and let us make it up. Here, take a pinch of snuff. It was no
fault of mine you were rejected.”