THE MISSION STATION.
Fortunately we had seen too much of Africa to expect a carpeted room
and a cushioned chair at Blantyre. We had slept so often in “shielins”
incomparably worse than a Scotch hen-house, that we did not care what
kind of roof covered us. “If you want to make a man happy,” it is said,
“strive not to increase his comforts but to lessen his desires.” An
experience like ours recommended the proverb; and as we stood for a
minute (we would have sat if there had been a spare chair) “glowrin
frae’s” in what we might call our own “fowl-house,” we saw that we should
have many opportunities for exercising self-denial. When our friends in
Scotland had tried to dissuade us from going to Africa, they had pointed
out how prudent the men were who go no farther in mission work than to
address drawing-room meetings. Still, we were quite contented. We had
been promised the prayerful sympathy of the Church at home, and now we
knew most of our difficulties. At least we thought so, and were happy,
but “Dici beatus ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet”. Blantyre,
although highly praised at home, did not possess many attractions for
the newcomer. On our first introduction to the manse we perceived that
it contained two rooms. In the larger of these there was nothing but a
huge table, which was noteworthy in many respects. It was the only one
we had seen for a month, and with the exception of a board used by the
artisans, it was the only table within a hundred miles. It had to serve
too in surgical cases: when any poor native had to undergo an operation,
it was on this that the doctors had to place him. The smaller room we
may describe as a bedroom, though when we were first ushered into it, it
contained neither bedstead nor bed, and boasted only of one small chair
of the rudest description. In our hut there were two doors, but neither
of them had a lock, and one had no fastening at all. When we learned that
thieves and wild beasts were frequent visitors, we began to barricade
doors and windows with chairs, books, and buckets. At this moment,
however, as our luggage had not yet arrived, we were safe from theft,
unless we should be served as were certain members of the Universities’
Mission, who had their very coat buttons cut off. There were three other
inhabited houses built on the same plan as ours, but none of them were
so well furnished! While there was one efficient door in the manse, and
perhaps another in the doctor’s house, the artisans’ had no doors at all,
but mattings of grass were propped up in the doorways at night. Chairs
were a great rarity; I do not think there were more than four in the
whole station, old boxes doing duty instead.
[Illustration: THE BLANTYRE MISSION.]
But although our houses were only mud huts they had an English finish
about them and were very acceptable to those that had wandered so long.
Writing at this time I said:—“The present houses promise to last only
for about three years, so that in a short time we must make brick,
with a view to more permanent dwellings. Rats and white ants annoy
us considerably. With the former we are constantly at war, assisted
by traps, and cats, and a tame owl. Sometimes a gun is used when
half-a-dozen of them may be killed by a single discharge. They are so
troublesome from their great numbers, that we must try phosphorus paste
or some such poison. White ants come up through the floor, and attack
books or clothes, rendering them quite useless in a single night. When
a person wants a skeleton for a specimen, he has only to put down the
animal near these ants, and in a short time he finds nothing but the
bones. Smaller ants creep everywhere. One method of placing our food
out of their reach is to put it in a box suspended by a rope from the
ceiling. In our house there was, by and by, an apology for a cupboard
the legs of which had to be placed in water, but notwithstanding this
precaution these insects made a bridge over the bodies of their drowned
companions and covered our breakfast fowl in such numbers that the fowl
itself actually could not be seen. One of their most annoying tricks
is to visit a sleeper in bed. More terrible still are the large red
ants (salau). Their attack has made many a traveller leave his bed and
stand in the smoke of a fire for the remainder of the night. They bite
furiously, and do not let go their hold even after the head is severed
from their body. When a European happens to stand among them he has to
rush into the house at once, and divest himself of all his clothing.
After he has apparently destroyed all his enemies, he has some difficulty
in taking their heads away from his skin. According to the natives they
will kill an elephant. Entering his nostrils they cause such irritation
that the animal commits suicide by dashing against trees and rocks; and
then the ants enjoy the carcase. They attack their victims with much
skill, waiting till they have spread themselves all over his body, and
then working by well understood signals. When on the march, the smaller
ants go in the middle, while the larger who are the ‘soldiers’ line the
sides. On a disturbance the soldiers hasten to the scene of danger. The
average line of march is hardly an inch broad but may be half a mile
long. They go very closely probably about 30 being on every square inch.
When they threaten to enter a house the best way of diverting them is by
putting fire on their path. Sometimes the Missionaries had to stand a
siege for a few hours from these formidable armies.”
The Mission Station was situated on a knoll, and well exposed to all the
cool breezes. The wind is never high; seldom can a man get his hat blown
off. But occasionally there are whirlwinds which toss native baskets in
the air to a height of several feet. A “cloudless sky” has been often
mentioned as a characteristic of a happy land, but here one does not
appreciate the metaphor. There are large grasshoppers which the natives
catch for food, as also many small birds which the schoolboys shoot with
blunted arrows.
_African Fever._ All of us, not excepting the doctor himself, paid the
penalty for passing through the fever region. We thought that after
reaching Blantyre our troubles were to be at an end. A week passes after
our arrival, and still no fever; surely we are all right now. Only let
a man get a chill, and he will soon discover. A person passes along our
clay floors without his boots of a morning, and the thing is done,—he
may take any preventive measure he chooses, but the fever will take its
course.
Our illness began ten days after our arrival, and we were laid aside
for about three weeks. During this time all the other Europeans on the
Station were also ill, and no one was able to take care of another.
Dr. Macklin often rose from a sick bed to do what he could. One of our
greatest difficulties was to get food. The cooking of the natives when
left to themselves exceeded anything we had yet encountered. Besides, the
black people did not understand a word we said. If we asked for a glass
of milk they would bring a tin of biscuits, after that they would try
a tin of butter, and then in despair they would bring in an armful of
books! But it is when the invalid begins to recover that he misses the
comforts of his native land. There are certain things that a sick man
must have at home that he cannot get here: he sees this at once and there
is no use of fretting over it. Not only is the invalid bereft of home
comforts, but he is subjected to a great many annoyances. He hears the
jackals and the hyænas screaming round the station, and a single night is
sufficient to convince him that these creatures have most powerful lungs.
Besides, a lion may be sitting coolly in the verandah. The roads round
the mission are marked each morning with the footprints of animals of all
kinds. The station is just in the middle of a dense bush, which has not
been cleared farther than was absolutely necessary. As one looks out at a
window he may see large buck at about 100 yards from him.
_Artisans._—The first thing that struck us as we approached the station,
was the paleness of the four or five Englishmen that were standing to
welcome us. The effect of this was heightened by their contrast with
the hundreds of black faces that surrounded them. Members of the Free
Church Mission were there too. Most of the young men felt their isolated
position, all had suffered severely from fever, and already death had
been thinning their ranks. An air of stillness, not to say of sadness,
overhung the place. After we had recovered from attacks of fever; there
was a magic lantern entertainment, where through an interpreter I acted
as demonstrator. I can never forget Dr. Macklin’s remark, that “there
was more fun and laughing that night, both among natives and Europeans,
than he had seen since the Mission began”. The men were all of that age
when hope is strongest in the human soul, but they had met with much to
discourage them. As the dawn of Christmas morn reminded a man of the
festivities of the season, and of his friends in the far off home, he
found himself lying in bed overcome by weakness, but obliged to hold up
an umbrella to shield his blankets from the rain. All had felt what it is
to undergo long periods of sickness while destitute of every comfort. The
Directors at home, who were entrusted with the Church collections found
it necessary to cut down the Mission expenditure. The poor fellows in
Africa, though separated from friends and weakened by sickness, had this
grim fact ever staring them in the face. The watchword was, “Man, think
of the bawbees at the Kirk door!” On one occasion, it had been settled
that they must retrench. They could not afford to pay the ordinary price
for fowls. On Christmas morning a native came to the Mission, wishing
to sell a beautiful cock. It seemed as if Providence had designed them
a special treat for the festive season. They began to try to purchase
this “tambala,” but, alas, the owner was obstinate. He expected the old
price. Economy was supreme, but said one, “I was very sorry as I looked
after the man going away with our dinner!”
These hardships naturally caused irritation and discontent. The party for
the Government, while making the best of the circumstances, had often to
face the hungry Opposition—and the proverb says, “A hungry man’s an angry
man”. The speech, “Now, you must not think that I am standing over the
provisions like a dog set to keep you from them,” would call forth the
reply, “It looks very like it!” But the evil was beyond the power of the
Government and the Opposition, both parties being to some extent made
victims. Such evils generally begin at home. Persons sent out are told
that everything will be done to mitigate their hard lot. Bright promises
are held before their eyes, perhaps not by the Directors formally,
but by certain of their members. Some of these would be found in the
young men’s path at every turning, loudly shouting, “Peace and plenty”.
I know nothing more painful than the action of such irresponsible
go-betweens. The Directors as a body, cannot, of course, approach the
various individuals. What they do, is to refer in an off-hand manner
to some of their most zealous members, who take upon them the task of
giving information, without first informing themselves, and the result
is the most complete deception. Promises are made in good faith, and
seem most reasonable in themselves, but the very men that volunteer to
give such pledges, have no power to fulfil them, and once the man is
abroad, he finds that he has been outwitted. Such hardships as are
inevitable, are often a milder item in Mission life, and are always borne
with greater cheerfulness, than such as are inflicted through culpable
misrepresentation and carelessness.
Men whose hearts are not in the work have little patience during such
trials, while even earnest workers are liable to be made discontented
while always hearing the grumbling of others, and knowing that it is not
without cause. Still amidst much to dishearten them these poor fellows
had their day dreams. Hope, the last goddess to forsake the miserable,
hovered about their home in the desert. A good story is told of a small
party whose walk brought them by chance to the banks of a beautiful
rivulet. Amidst the impressive vastness of the African forest, and all
the rare scenes of a new country, their hearts were ready to admit
most brilliant hopes. As one of them looked about the rivulet he fell
on something whose effect was magical. All at once his manner became
dignified, the tones of his voice changed, at last he had found a balm
for his sorrows. “It’s gold! yes, gold! we need never lift a hammer
again.” But alas! the vision of splendour was not realized. It gave place
to the usual wrangling about rations, and the proverb “Golden dreams make
one awake hungry” was painfully appropriate.
It is most essential for a Church to see that when a band of artisans is
sent to places so isolated, every cause of irritation should be avoided;
when this is not done the results may be serious. When a great play is
acted on this world’s theatre it is one thing to sit as a spectator, and
another to be admitted behind the scenes. When I read, as a little boy,
of Waterloo, and such celebrated battles, I thought everything connected
with the victorious party must be great, and good, and glorious,—that
every soldier and officer must be a model of virtue and excellence.
But once I met with a Waterloo veteran, and my pre-conceived opinions
received a cruel shock. This man told me with the greatest complacency,
as if it had been the merest matter of course, that soldiers were put
under the strictest discipline, that many of them were men that required
this, that frequent quarrels took place, and that many a soldier welcomed
a battle as an opportunity for killing not the public enemy, but some
private enemy who belonged to his own side and fought in his own
regiment! Though man has heavenward aspirations, it is true, alas! that
he standeth upon the earth.
We arrived at Blantyre at a very critical period of the Mission’s
history. A few months before, an able Missionary on quitting the
settlement, said that he left it either to “sink or swim,” and hinted
that the former alternative was not improbable. Many of the artisans did
not wish to continue in the service of the Mission, believing that they
would find it better to become traders and chiefs among the natives.
All the artisans had an enormous influence in the country. In the service
of the Mission, they had hundreds of native workmen under their charge.
In a private capacity each had one or two black butlers, not to speak of
cooks and clothes-washers! Some were large landed proprietors on their
own account. They found that any chief would give 1000 acres without
a moment’s hesitation, and some of them had acquired whole tracts of
territory. But their riches lay lightly on their hearts, and a visitor
to the station would not have found out that such freeholds had been
acquired. Except in a moment of confidence, no artisan would speak of
his great fortune, and unless specially informed we could not have
distinguished the man that possessed miles of land, from the man that had
not a foot. But it had been mooted at home that some missionaries held
land in their own name. Letters which had been quite unintelligible at
the time, showed that there was an alarm over the ridiculous subject.
Artisans that bargained about large tracts of country were still in the
Mission, and did no more good or harm by the transaction than they would
have done by acquiring a freehold in the moon!
Chiefs fawned upon Europeans or rather on their goods. They would promise
anything or everything for the present of an old coat. When they made a
grant of land to one man and received his “present,” they saw nothing
inconsistent in giving the same land to a second man, or more correctly
to a second “present”. Soon these chiefs were better understood, and
however willing the artisans were to keep on good terms with these “great
ones,” their constant begging was too much for human patience. The
sneaking beings were found to be a perfect nuisance. They put themselves
on the footing of beggars, and the most unpretentious of the Europeans
had to treat them as such.
The artisans set themselves to train the natives to work. It was
difficult at first, but they showed considerable firmness. Some of them
believed that the native despised leniency, and formed the opinion that
the more they kicked him the more they were respected. This was an
unfortunate interpretation of the servility of the African. The plan more
frequently adopted was to dismiss any obstinate man without payment, the
only danger being that the whole squad would have to be thus treated.
Many were slaves, and as they might have to give over their wages to a
master, they were not at all sorry to be dismissed. Often masters and
slaves would work side by side under the European artisan who did justice
to all without respect of persons.
The industrial work was prosecuted with vigour, many natives being
employed in making roads. When the bugle sounded on Monday morning,
there was a rush of hundreds of men and women who had come to receive
employment. One artisan stood ready to select as many workers as he
wanted, and he was soon hidden from view as the people crowded around
him. Before enrolling the candidates he looked at their hoes and axes,
and rejected such as had inferior tools. He rejected also women that had
babies on their backs, but when this became known to a native mother,
she handed her child to some one else until her name was once on the
book. As the native names were sometimes very long, the artisan had a
great demand on his powers of writing. “And what’s your name?” he asks.
“Unechemtyosyamaguluwe.”[4] “Tut, man, the half of that will do!” is the
rejoinder; and a high sounding name like Emmanuel is reduced to Emma.
_Visitors._—For several days after our arrival there was great
excitement. Our larger room had four windows, which were thrown open to
admit the air, and every morning a crowd gathered at each window to see
the white lady! The natives of the Chiri Highlands had seen white men
before, but they had scarcely realised that women too would be disfigured
by this strange complexion. Some visitors asked an introduction to the
newcomer on the ground that “they were women too”. We had to shake hands
with all the groups. This was not a native salutation, but we wished
to be cordial towards our black brothers and sisters. After grasping a
score of dark hands, our own partook of a similar hue. A stranger might
feel inclined to wash his hands after the ceremony, but he would return
to find that more visitors had come, and that the whole process had to
be repeated. The natives are not much inconvenienced by “matter out of
place”. Even persons that came from working clay would advance and hold
out their hands. But they had good excuse. At this season they had no
water on the spot except a little for softening their clay, nor had they
any towels. Their loin-cloth seemed often too scanty for wiping the
fingers. But in later times when we visited the villages, we have seen
women run off to wash their hands, that the English lady might have a
proper welcome.
_Neighbours._—I began to confine myself so closely to the acquisition of
the language and work in the Mission School, that for a long time I knew
nothing of the district round Blantyre. The first occasion on which I
saw a little of the country was on a visit to Sochi in company with Dr.
Macklin, who went to settle several quarrels with Kapeni, the chief of
the country. In going along I was astonished to find so many villages.
When the villagers saw us, they made a point of hasting up to say
“Morning, morning!” (which is their usual salutation to Englishmen). The
males seemed to have all their time at their disposal. With the exception
of one who was sewing a piece of cloth, we saw nothing to show that the
men did any work at all. But the women were pounding corn or working in
the fields.
On reaching the chief’s village we asked for him, but he could not be
found. It was thought that he was afraid to show himself. One by one
his villagers gathered round till they formed a great assemblage. Some
had bows, others knives, and one had a gun, so that they had nothing
to fear. We were without weapons of any kind, only an Englishman is
always believed to carry a great supply of war medicine. After we had
waited a long time, the old chief appeared with a large clear knife
in his hand. He sat down at a great distance; when asked to come near
he said “No”. Some time ago he had sent the Mission a present which
had not been accepted, and he “was ashamed to have it returned”. Our
interpreter went over and induced him, after much persuasion, to come
beside us; then he sat down on a skin under a large tree. After being
introduced, I went up to shake hands with him, and I am not sure whether
the poor old man did not regard me with suspicion, for while he gave me
his left hand, he held his knife very firmly with the right. Such was
my first acquaintance with the king of the country. The sending back of
the present was then discussed. The Mission had two complaints against
Kapeni: (1) His men had carried off from Blantyre a slave woman that had
come there for protection. (2) One of the Blantyre lads when hunting
in the district of Sochi came to a village where the chief’s son and
certain companions were drinking beer, and they took away his gun and
gave him a beating. But the inhabitants of this village feared that the
matter would not end well. They reasoned that the outrage had been done
in _their_ town, and that the English would come with guns and inflict
a severe punishment upon them. Accordingly they took back the gun and
returned it to the Blantyre lad, whom they escorted home. The old chief
of course denied any knowledge of these facts. He had just “heard about
them”. After a little talking, matters were settled in a friendly way,
and we ended by inviting the chief over to Blantyre. He said he wished to
see the white lady, and to hear the harmonium which had just come, and he
bargained to be gratified in these respects. He was much astonished when
told that the lady, or “Donna,” never _went out_—he thought it strange
that she should not be seen hoeing the fields and pounding corn.
On our way home we passed the village where the gun had been taken, and
the doctor invited the men that restored it to come and see how the
English people valued their friends. On an appointed day they came and
received a present of calico. The chief of Sochi also paid his visit and
brought a present of fowls, receiving in return a blanket and a piece of
calico.
_Interpreters._—When we arrived there were two interpreters—Tom and Sam.
They had been in a slave gang which was liberated by Bishop Mackenzie.
Tom remembered his capture. He was playing beside a stream with his
little sister when a man seized him. He knew the reason at once. “The
man wanted to take me to the coast and sell me for calico.” “Why did
you not scream?” “Can’t scream, they put flour on my mouth.” Thus the
boy was separated from his parents and his home, and the little stream
that he played beside, at once and for ever. He could never tell where
was the home of his infancy; only he believed that it “was far away in
the Yao country”. Sam’s story was much the same; and they both remember
how glad they were when met by the white men who set them free. They had
acquired a knowledge of the English language at Capetown, and had seen
a great deal of civilised life there—perhaps a great deal too much. To
these young men I had to look for instruction in the native tongue. I
early recognised that I need not expect to do the people any good unless
I could speak to them. During our voyage up the river I collected a few
words and formed a scheme of the verb. But on attempting to make some use
of this material I was told that the Blantyre people did not understand
my Chinyasa because they spoke Yao. I felt as if the interpreter had been
playing a practical joke upon me. Here I had a note-book filled with
this Chinyasa, and I was now coolly told that it would be of no use! I
began next to find that some Yao words were the same as their Chinyasa
equivalents, and this made me reserve my manuscript with more hope.
[Illustration: NATIVE FEMALE (TRIBAL MARKS, TATOOS AND LIP RING).]
For some days after recovering from fever I was unable to walk to school,
and I got Katunga, a big chief who came in to tell us about Doto Livisto
(Dr. Livingstone), to point out the names of common objects as mountain,
tree, &c. He laughed very heartily at my imitation of his words. In
beginning to form a vocabulary, I took a Dictionary and went over it day
after day with the interpreters, noting down all the native words I could
find. I also wrote a translation of several passages of Scripture from
their lips. But I found they often had difficulties. When I wished to
translate the “Hail master” of Judas, they said that there was no word
for “Hail,” but (referring to English salutations recently introduced)
they assured me I would make nothing of it unless I said “Morning
Master”. The “kissed him” was a similar puzzle. For _kiss_ they gave me
one word which, as I afterwards discovered, meant _to bite_, and another
which meant to _smell_! They could come no nearer the idea. No mother
here kisses her child. One has only to look at the photograph of a native
female to see that she cannot kiss.
Notwithstanding their residence at Cape Town these men were often unable
to translate the most ordinary English into their own tongue, and yet
they were better interpreters than any we could expect to train for
several years. When I once tried hard to find a word for _guilty_, they
could give nothing but the word _bad_. One gentleman said that they had
occasionally been offenders in Cape Town. He was sure that if I followed
the usual legal forms, and mentioned the sentence of working for a month
at the docks, they had sufficient experience to tell me! But though I
supposed cases as like this as I could without betraying the matter, I
failed to get the information required. What I most deplored was that if
these men had got the word in the middle of an address, it would have
given them no trouble! From the translations I wrote down I afterwards
formed a conception of how they would treat such an expression as, “His
delight is in the Law of the Lord”. They would break it up into two
sentences, of which the first would be “Light is low,” and the second
some very unintelligible statement about God. I could not have believed
that such nonsense was possible unless I had actually come into contact
with it. The African interpreter who said, ‘The salvation of the soul
is a great sack,’ is I fear quite an average specimen of his class. But
this is due more to the difficulties of the English language than to any
natural incapacity in the African. I have employed many to translate
from one negro dialect to another and they could do this very well. The
native congregations that listened to the interpreters must have been
much puzzled at first. Once they heard an address on the healing of the
leper—and every time the word ‘leper’ occurred it was rendered ‘leopard’.
When the magic lantern was used for the entertainment and instruction
of the natives, they at first looked on with fear. When told “This is a
man that lived long ago,” they actually thought that people were brought
back from the dead. But soon they enjoyed seeing English people and
English buildings. One day we showed them ‘the house of John Knox’. The
interpreter of course had never before heard of such a man, but he was
not the person to hesitate, and he said, “This is the house of John the
Ox!” (John Ng’ombe).
Still in telling people how to hoe and to carry grass and on all ordinary
occasions, the aid of interpreters was most useful. They were also much
valued for their advice in difficulties that arose with the natives. They
understood matters of this kind better than Europeans did. When I arrived
they were just making ready to leave the country and their departure was
a great loss to the Mission.
_School._—Next to the acquisition of the language came school work. This
had formerly occupied about two hours in the forenoon, but I introduced
an afternoon school. At first we felt teaching very hard, owing to the
heat, and often we were almost fainting. But we succeeded in keeping
our pupils interested. Had we possessed books in the native language we
might have done much more good, for our pupils must have found it a hard
task to read English. But in a short time we introduced a little of the
African. One of my first attempts was to write out a simple English verse
with a Yao translation. Mrs. Macdonald printed this in large letters, and
in a short time the pupils could both read and sing,
“Set thou thy trust upon the Lord,
And be thou doing good;
For so thou in the land shalt dwell,
And verily have food.”
When I asked which of the verses was best, Anyasa pupils said they liked
the English, but the majority of the school preferred—
“Tululani mtima wenu Mulungu,
Tendani yambone mowa gosepe
Iyoyo somchitama muchilambo
Mwambone somchikola yakulia.”
The words of this other verse were much longer, but they conveyed
a meaning to the natives, while the English words conveyed none.
Notwithstanding all that I could do with the interpreters, the
translation would come out in eleven syllables. Now there was a puzzle
to find a tune. It happens that a metre like this is common in Scottish
songs, and we tried an adaptation of the “Flowers of the Forest,” which
acted admirably. I never saw any melody tell so much on the natives.
It actually brought tears to their eyes the first day we sang it. The
harmonium was a great attraction in the school. The children seemed more
amendable to music than their parents. The old folk were fond of coming
to hear this wonderful instrument, but when something lively was played
they frequently looked grave, while they were almost certain to laugh at
a plaintive air! Only the great novelty of the instrument itself affected
them so much at first, that they could not appreciate emotional effects.
The pupils began to do a little arithmetic. The numerical system in
central Africa is quinary. Hence the English notation puzzled them at
first, but not so greatly as might have been expected. As natives seldom
count, their own numerical system had not engaged their thoughts so much
as to oppose the new one. In the Yao language there are three distinct
methods of numeration. One of these calls in the aid of the human voice
in order to bring out certain numerical distinctions, and would require a
ventriloquist to do justice to it!
But it is high time to point out that the Minister himself had now gone
to school, and to describe his progress thereat. Looking back upon this
period I may now characterise it as follows:—First “half”—Darkness;
Second “half”—Groping; Third “half”—Efforts at making a fire; Fourth
“half”—Beginning to see the bystanders; Fifth “half”—Forming friendships;
Sixth “half”—Instructing our friends; Seventh “half”—Farewells.