CONCLUSION.
The day after our arrival I rested, as my limbs were aching after the
long march. Next day I was able to return to school. The daily meeting
for the natives had ceased, but I had no difficulty in resuming it.
Kapeni’s children had all left, and on Saturday I went to visit them.
I met Kapeni himself on the way to see me, and walked back with him.
His boys promised to return to school, but I found afterwards that this
was merely the promise of politeness. They asked whether I was to leave
them now, and I replied that if I could get down before the rains, I
would go, otherwise I should have to wait till the rains were over. ‘And
then you would go?’ ‘Yes.’ Malunga was another man whose children I had
long desired to have. Just as I was leaving, he regretted my departure,
because he ‘was going to send them all’. Now I was come back, here was
a test for his sincerity. Still he had his excuse, too. Ever since the
Magomero people left them, the natives have been inclined to look upon
the ‘English’ as mere birds of passage. Katunga’s boys came up, but
although Maseo had promised in like manner, his were not sent.
Kumpama came and took his leave on the Saturday following—a day when I
was free to escort him to the boundary of his own territory. As we passed
Ndilande I noticed a great change. The people that were living on the
plains about a month ago, had gone up the mountain from fear of Chikumbu.
We missed the welcomes that used to greet us in this quarter. We passed
village after village and found them all deserted. On our way back we
climbed the mountain and saw the people in their new abodes. They said
that if Chikumbu molested them farther they would all go to Blantyre.
About the beginning of August Chikumbu attacked the carriers of the
Trading Company and captured some goods. We saw another instance of the
difficulty of sending messengers in such cases. According to Kapeni,
any neutral party would at once make himself the enemy of Chikumbu by
carrying a message to him regarding the robbery, because Chikumbu would
naturally wish to guard against the slightest appearance of treachery.
The slave question began to revive again. For nearly two years it had
been practically laid aside, no slaves had been received and no master
thought of claiming the persons that had formerly received protection.
But many masters had recently come in and stated that when I went home,
they would ask their slaves back. I turned the matter off with a joke,
but I found that soon after my departure some Magololo had given much
trouble about slaves. One lad that had been at school for three years,
and was able to act as a teacher, was demanded by Makukani. This poor
fellow had been for a long time saving a great part of his wages to give
this greedy chief.
The slave trade is by no means defunct, as many poor Africans know
to their cost. Human beings are still hunted as legitimate game, and
great numbers of slave caravans still leave the interior. Powder is a
great assistance in carrying on this terrible traffic. Fortunately the
Portuguese restrict its importation at Quilimane, but they allow it to
be imported at Chisanga, and many slaves are disposed of at the latter
place, from which Mukukani quite recently brought up nine kegs of powder
and fifteen new guns.
[Illustration: A DANGEROUS HIPPOPOTAMUS.]
Mr. Henderson set out towards the coast to see whether communication
could be restored. Bismark went to guide him. The latter considered that
he would be in danger, and wrote out his will—which was sent back to
Mrs. Macdonald. However, he returned safe, although sad at heart, that
his young girl refused to go to England with him. She had been quite
frightened by the dangers of the way. The hippopotami and the threatened
war proved too much for her nerves, and she was afraid to try the journey
to England again. Besides we had been now so long delayed, that we should
not arrive till winter, and the doctor judged that the cold would be
dangerous for Bismark himself.
On the 23rd of August we were enabled to leave Blantyre the second
time. Mr. Moir, of the Trading Company, had come up the river with a
Mazaro crew, and there was no longer any doubt about getting men for the
journey. The Mazaro men were anxious to get home again. Not only so,
but Mr. Moir engaged a number of Yao men to go down to assist in work
at Mazaro. We were soon on the river once more. The first day’s sail
brought us beside the celebrated grove of palm trees. Next day (Thursday
25th), tempting herds of buck were seen, and we had several opportunities
of firing upon them. When there is a crowd of hungry natives, it is a
great boon to get hold of a buck. One should shoot at these animals with
explosive bullets. In the ordinary method severe wounds are inflicted,
but the creatures get away to suffer considerably. A large herd of Zebras
was also seen—they are swift as the wind.
Soon after starting in the afternoon we had an adventure. The other boats
had all passed on before us. The last one, with Mrs. Macdonald and the
children, was just disappearing at a bend of the river. We were going
nicely along, when I saw a hippopotamus coming towards us. I took up a
rifle and had him ‘covered,’ but as he seemed peaceful I gave him the
benefit of the doubt; and he disappeared again. After we had sailed down
a little farther the boat got a blow that seemed to raise it out of the
water. We were agreed that ‘Now that fellow must get a lesson,’ and we
seized our rifles. But water soon rushed into the boat at such a rate as
to direct our attention to another matter. I laid hold of a bucket and
began to bale, but I found the task hopeless and urged the boatmen to
pull hard. We were in the very middle of the stream, and the situation
was most critical. It was really a question of life or death. We had
always held a theory that if a hole were knocked in the boat we could
stuff it, but theories are often difficult to practice. Before we could
have reached the bottom of the boat, through all the bags and boxes,
the necessity for stuffing the hole would have passed away. The natives
rowed but feebly. They lose their heads in an emergency. It looked as
if we were to sink on the spot. Mr. Moir at this crisis seized an oar
and rowed with the strength of any four of them. I was told off to the
helm; the baling being of no use. The boat rapidly filled with water—it
was questionable whether we could reach the bank before it sank. The
river here was very deep. One of the canoes saw our position and made
towards us. However, we reached the bank just as the boat sunk. All the
cargo was under the water and had to be fetched out. After the accident
we held a short council. One was to stay with the boat and the other to
go and obtain assistance from the rest of the party. Ultimately I went
in a small canoe, but notwithstanding hard rowing I could not overtake
the others. Sometimes the canoe found itself among herds of hippopotami,
whose presence made me somewhat uncomfortable after the last encounter.
Santos has the following account of these animals:—“The head of the
hippopotamus is three times the size of our ordinary horse, and its body
thick in proportion. What is extraordinary in this species of animal
is their practice of destroying each other for food, whence it rarely
happens that two are found together.” How much I could have wished on
the present occasion to be able to confirm the last part of the Reverend
Father’s remarks! But I found scores of them, all regarding my frail bark
at the same time, so that they must have laid aside this inhuman practice
of the 16th century!
[Illustration: HIPPOPOTAMI AT HOME.]
The above incident was my third experience of a hippopotamus attack,
and I believe that such attacks are made partly through fright. On each
occasion a boat or a small canoe had passed immediately before and while
the hippopotamus was trying to get away from the first vessel, the second
was upon it before it was aware. Driven to desperation, and confiding in
its great strength, ‘leviathan’ then charged with all its might.
I found the first party at the Ruo (encamping beside the village where we
had to turn back on our former journey) and told Mr. Moir’s carpenter of
the necessity for his services. But it would have taken a whole day to
row against the current up to the scene of the disaster. Some natives
however were sent off. The rest of us stayed for the night. Chiputula
the chief was here himself. A sickening smell pervaded the village. An
elephant had been killed and long strips of flesh were hanging on the
trees. Chiputula has a war canoe capable of containing 40 soldiers which
he put at my disposal as I wanted to visit Bishop Mackenzie’s grave.
Next morning Mr. Moir appeared with the boat, which bore sad traces of
the prowess of the hippopotamus. The chief gave him a basin of elephant
fat which was of great use in effecting a temporary repair.
This afternoon we reached the territory of the dreaded Matekenya. His
poor people had been driven far down by Chiputula, and villages that were
flourishing when we came up were now deserted. The natives soon descried
our approach, and some shouted at us to stop, but we saw no reason to
listen to them. Soon there arose a great stir on the bank, and a rush was
made as if to meet us farther down. About five o’clock we were warned
that they would kill us, but threats of this kind were nothing new and we
pressed on. To shew the least sign of alarm in such circumstances would
have been a serious experiment. But the critical moment soon arrived. The
natives stood in a mass with a considerable shew of guns and ordered us
to come at once to the side. We were now within range of their muskets
and some of our party as they afterwards confessed did not feel at all
comfortable. Fortunately they did not understand all that was said else
they would have been much worse. I stood up in the boat and asked ‘Why
do you want us to stop? Have you anything to sell?’ The last remark was
received with a grim smile but a smile all the same, and I felt that
the danger was past. I then leapt out of the boat and began to talk to
them. I explained that ‘I was not Anyasa at all, but Yao’. I was soon
recognised as the ‘chief of Bulantaya’ (Blantyre) and they opened their
hearts to me over the hardship they had suffered from Chiputula. They
said that since we settled at Blantyre, Chiputula had let the Yao alone.
‘Why do the English not come down and stay to protect _us_ also? We would
be your children[15]!’ Their great anxiety was to see Mr. Moir who, I
told them, had been treating with their enemy. Mr. Moir had been detained
by his boat, and was left in close conversation with Chiputula whom he
was warning against interfering with Matekenya lest he should bring the
Portuguese against himself. The incorrigible chieftain replied that
while he was afraid of the English, he did not care for the Portuguese,
as he had often fought with their forces near Senna.
When Mr. Moir arrived he made an appointment to meet Matekenya on Sunday
at a village a day’s journey farther on. Matekenya rules his subjects
with a rod of iron so that with Chiputula’s wars on the one hand, and a
fearfully despotic government on the other, they are much to be pitied.
We found them interesting people. They had never seen white children
before, and the two babies were objects of much wonder. When we reached
Morumbala marsh we found innumerable flocks of wild fowl. They fell as
fast as we could fire and were very acceptable both to ourselves and to
the natives.
[Illustration: HALTING FOR THE NIGHT ON THE RIVER BANK.]
By Monday forenoon we reached the confines of civilization once more
and met a French trader who shewed us great kindness. We were now under
the shadow of misty Morumbala. We passed the night at Shamo, the abode
of Ferrao who sometimes kept Dr. Livingstone from starving amidst the
various accidents and incidents of his wanderings. According to native
custom the house of the deceased gentleman had been taken down (40.)
But as we wandered through the village we met an old servant of Ferrao
who volunteered to shew us the spirit (Mulungu) of his master for a
present of calico. A Portuguese merchant now occupies the place and sells
umbrellas, cups, cloth, and rum for the ground nuts of the natives.
On Tuesday morning we went off quite early wishing to reach Mazaro. For
the last week Mrs. Macdonald with the nurse and two children had been
confined in a corner of an open boat where they had scarcely room to
turn. When one remembers the intense heat of these days and nights, he
will understand why we wished to press on. Soon we were on the broad
Zambeze and within a district where the natives have been in contact with
Europeans for nearly 400 years. If the Portuguese had only established
schools and taught the natives to read, a great change would have been
effected. But since the recall of the Jesuits, the Portuguese have not
tried to christianize the natives, many of them believing that the
negroes are not susceptible of improvement. Here most of the native
huts are two storeys because of the floods in the rainy season. We were
anxious to visit Shupanga house, but the boatmen were too afraid of the
Zulus. As we were talking with reverence of Mrs. Livingstone, one of our
party pointed towards her grave and said “Ah! they know all about it—ask
what they say”. I remarked that unless we knew what Livingstone had been
called by the natives in this district there was little chance of finding
an answer without a long explanation. However my companion shouted to
one of them, “Livingstone! Livingstone!” and pointed towards the house.
At first the boatman was puzzled, he thought it was an order. But when
the word was repeated he was bound to believe that it conveyed some
information and he said ‘Yes!’ The great Doctor himself warns against the
danger of receiving an African’s statement with confidence. He points
out that the native has no conception that the truth or falsehood of his
answer can be of the least importance, and just tells a stranger what
he thinks will best please him. But another danger is that persons are
apt to mistake for information what was never so intended. A learned
gentleman sees a lizard and asks its name: the native replies ‘Kaya’
which means ‘I don’t know’. Down goes Kaya in the note-book as ‘the name
of a green lizard!’ If an English traveller may ask near the birth-place
of the author of Paradise Lost ‘where Milton was born,’ and be told by a
countryman that a woman of that name once lived in the district, we need
not blame an African for not knowing the name of Livingstone which is
unpronounceable by him, and which he likely never heard (46.)
We stuck repeatedly on sandbanks, and could not reach Mazaro this night.
We slept on the opposite side of the river. On this bank our boatmen do
not feel secure: they are not entirely out of the reach of a Zulu tribe
which gives great trouble here, and levies blackmail on the Portuguese
themselves. We thought of going over the bank and pretending to be Zulus,
but when we observed that our natives had their flint locks lying in
readiness we did not care to carry out the idea. There are hippopotami
here, and one came very close, but they are few in number, as the natives
harpoon them. On Wednesday morning we started a little after five, and
reached Mazaro early. We had a few days to wait here before we could
get ready for the Quilimane part of the journey. All my time since
leaving Blantyre had been devoted to the revisal of my vocabularies, but
after this point the Yao-speaking natives were left behind. Here we met
Mwanasa, a girl who had lived for two years with Mrs. Macdonald. She
would have willingly come to England to learn more, but we feared she
would be lonely. When at Blantyre she had learned to read and write in
her own language.
When we were at Mazaro a letter was read from the Zanzibar consul, which
had been addressed to one of the Livingstonia employés. Certain chiefs on
Lake Nyassa had been making themselves notorious in connection with the
slave trade, and the consul asked the man whether he could not clear out
one of these slavers. We believe it must often be felt by those on the
coast that they could cope with the evils of slavery much better if they
had an agency in the interior.
Saturday evening found us on the Kwagwa. Here our journey was, if
possible, more uncomfortable than before. There was only one boat:
and Mrs. Macdonald with the nurse and family had just room to stow
themselves away under the little grass awning that had been thrown over
it. My bed was placed in the steerage! Hitherto, throughout the whole
journey on the Chiri and Zambeze, we had been obliged to sleep in the
boats and under mosquito curtains. At Mazaro we had occupied a house; but
this means that the plague of rats is added to the plague of heat and
mosquitoes.
The lad that was our pilot here had been at Blantyre for a few months,
and he showed us great attention. We always pressed on during night.
One can go down the Kwagwa at a beautiful rate. As soon as the terrible
sun was set I made a point of getting hold of a pole, when we had great
amusement in endeavouring to race with the light canoes. I thus secured
a few hours’ exercise, which is one of the best antidotes to fever in
this pestilential district. On Monday the 5th we passed Mugurumbe, and
reached a sleeping place about one o’clock next morning. The vegetation
is so dense that one cannot land on the bank just where he chooses. There
are but few places so clear that we could light a fire, and of these many
are found already occupied by numbers of other travellers. But when one
party arrives certain of the others will often make a fresh start. Night
and day are much the same to the travellers on this river. Our sleeping
station of Tuesday morning became a scene of confusion. When our boat
reached it a score of natives began to appeal to me on civil matters. I
was inclined to smile at the situation. Some people that ought to have
known better had taken me for a civil magistrate before, and now I am
to be pressed into that service again! All explanations were useless.
“Master, here—a boy has been stabbed!” The knife with which the wound had
been inflicted is thrust into my hands, while our men pointed out that it
had been bent in the rencontre.
[Illustration: THE KWAGWA.]
I felt as sick of the matter as an English jury when shut in to give a
decision. I said I was suffering from want of sleep, but what was want of
sleep to them! Native patience is sometimes great, and native eloquence
long. The “Governor of Quilimane” was an expression that I tried to
conjure with, but without effect, and in the end I had to beseech them
to defer the matter, and it was only after I promised to listen to them
next day that I obtained this concession. Next morning as soon as I awoke
the palaver began, and to my astonishment an old Portuguese came out of
one of the sack-beds, and requested my interference. He was the “other
party” in the transaction. He had landed here the previous night, and as
he slept in a mat on the bank, some natives stole most of his clothing
and some of his goods. A little after, he found another native (not
the actual thief) prowling about, and put his knife into him. The old
man was now determined not to go away until his property was restored.
I told him that the thief was not one of my boatmen, neither was the
other unfortunate lad, and that I was merely a traveller and could not
interfere. It was a strange spectacle, the two white men unable to speak
to each other except through the medium of two black interpreters! As
I explained my position to my brother European he looked at his own
interpreter, and they agreed that my interpreter was against them, and
was not translating properly. He knew “that the governor of Quilimane
was far away,” but if I could show these natives that I did not support
them in stealing, it would help a poor traveller, and do no one any harm!
Perhaps the poor fellow thought that I must be some Englishman that had a
grudge against the Portuguese. I soon condemned the theft, and succeeded
in getting the bent knife returned to him. I think that his antagonists
hinted that I was going to carry it off to use as a witness against him
in Quilimane! In a short time his goods were also restored. Now he was
delivered from anxiety, and I soon saw that he could expound native law
to them. “You must pay me for this theft and annoyance.” They replied,
“You must pay us for the boy”. His answer was that the boy was of the
same fraternity, and had to expect what he got. We left them before they
had finished, but from the bold manner of the traveller it is likely that
he got damages. Only the matter was hardly worth insisting on unless he
had frequent occasion to pass that way.
After a short repose of three or four hours we made an easy start on
Tuesday morning. Antani was my philosopher, and pointed out rivers that
were said to be associated with the slave trade. He had expected me to be
more in favour of the black man this morning, and therefore recounted the
hardships of the poor slaves:—
“They are taken down here in slave sticks. If a woman have a child on her
back she is put in the slave stick too. One piece of cloth (16 yds., say
4s.) is the price of a man: two pieces is the price of a woman. A woman
costs more because she will be the mother of other people. If she have
a child in her arms she fetches half a piece more. If the master cannot
sell his slave he takes him back again, and cheats him by saying I did
not want to sell you. I only took you down to frighten you that you might
respect me more.”
He promised to tell me if he saw any with the Yao tatoo. He found none
except those that had been bought by the Portuguese long ago: the new
ones, he insisted, were kept in distant plantations.
Though told several times this morning to fill every bottle with water,
Antani was very remiss in doing so, as he could not see the reason. In
the forenoon he sat in the bow of the boat looking at the river, which
was gradually becoming broader. We asked him to taste the water now. The
other natives, although not in the secret, understood the joke at once,
and one handed him a dish. They waited to see if this lad, fresh from
the mountains of the interior, could be so green after all! He dipped
over the side of the boat, and proceeded to drink the water with as great
confidence as he had done throughout our journey. “Ah! salt, salt,” he
cried, and began to spit, while his companions enjoyed a boisterous laugh
at his expense.
This evening a great wind rose, and our tiny boat had to put back into a
sheltered corner. We expected the breeze would allow us to sleep; but it
was soon calm and hot. The mosquitoes did not give much trouble, but the
sand flies came through our curtains and rendered our position wretched
in the extreme. Seldom have we passed a more miserable night. Yet we
could not fail to appreciate one beautiful episode. A canoe passed us
playing a sansa (I. 272), while certain voices attempted to sing with the
instrument. Every note was distinctly heard in the midnight stillness,
and the canoe-men made the grand old woods resound with the melody. We
listened with great fondness till the strains of their rude music died
away in the distance. About twelve o’clock at night we asked the boys
whether they could not push off the boat, but after a fruitless endeavour
to move it along the sand, we had to make up our minds to endure the
situation longer. It was about two A.M. before the tide reached us, and
then they promptly released us from our sufferings. As soon as the tide
turned the boys all went to sleep again, and we glided smoothly along.
But before reaching Quilimane we had to face big waves. We arrived at
mid-day. It was fifteen days since we had left Blantyre.
We enjoyed the welcome and cordial hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Nunes.
They had nearly been killed by the same journey, and could sympathise
with us. Our oldest boy’s face was one large blister owing to mosquito
bites, and he and Mrs. Macdonald suffered much from fever. We had to wait
a few days for the steamer. Antani often walked with me, and made his own
observations on men and manners. We would meet a Portuguese boy going to
school with a negro behind him carrying his books and cigars! Antani said
that the Portuguese “drove the native children out of school lest they
should by and by know as much as white men”. One day a man passed wearing
a tall silk hat. When at Blantyre, we had great difficulty in explaining
the pictures in the _Graphic_ and _London News_ on account of the
_dreadful head-dress_ of the European. Here we were fortunate in finding
an actual specimen. Antani gazed with wonder, and promised to report, on
his return to the interior that these strange hats were a reality after
all!
Once I took a long solitary walk into the country to see whether I could
meet with slaves that had been brought from our district. I saw several
Anyasa and Walolo tatoos. After marching till I was tired I sat down at
a village to rest. Here I found a lad that could speak Chinyasa. As we
talked he stumbled on a characteristic Yao word, and this led to his
finding for me two people that had come from the Blantyre district long
ago. They were charmed with an opportunity of speaking their mother
tongue, which they had not used for many years, but which they said
they would never forget. As a group gathered round they took a pride
in shewing their Quilimane companions that they could converse with a
European in an unknown language. But they were far behind in the history
of their country, and were taking for granted the existence of chiefs
and headmen that had long been gathered to their fathers. I could not
but think of the touching picture that Homer gives of Helen looking from
the Trojan wall and trying to see Castor and Pollux, not knowing that
the grave “already possessed them in their dear native land”. I could
perceive that one especially looked back fondly to olden days, while
his breast filled with thoughts of the friends of his youth. ‘Perhaps
his mother was yet alive.’ ‘Had his brothers and sisters gone into
slavery like himself, or would they still send a thought after him as
they lingered about the scenes of bygone days?’ He could not tell. He had
formed new ties now, and was quite happy, enjoying under the Portuguese
a security that he could not have found beside his own mountains. Still,
in spite of the treatment he had received in his native land, there was
a poetry about the past that prompted a ‘lingering look behind’. He
made an errand to Quilimane in order to accompany me back. His use of
his native tongue was considerably ‘generalized’ by some twenty years’
disuse. He would often hesitate for a word and employ general terms where
his countrymen would have given the special one. He complained of the sun
“killing” the corn: the time was when he would have said “scorching”. We
passed a Portuguese churchyard where each tombstone was ornamented with
a large cross, but he said he had no idea what was the meaning of the
symbol.
Many Portuguese think that the natives are worse off since the abolition
of slavery. Formerly, masters were at great pains to give their slaves
personal comforts and ornaments, which they do not think of giving now,
because “the negro might make off with the gift next day”. Wages is but
little motive to work in a land where there is no difficulty in getting
the necessaries of life. But under the Portuguese the natives may store
up property to an extent that would be dangerous in the interior. There
the possession of wealth makes a man’s life worth taking.
Strangers severely criticise the native for want of foresight. A critic
says:—“He ought to cultivate a few more feet of ground, as a time of
scarcity might come.” But it is the very foresight of the native that
prevents him from taking such a step. It is his critic that lacks
discrimination and not he. His critic applies to him calculations that
may be presumed upon, under a civilised government. The native, on the
contrary, is familiar with the real situation. I once asked a schoolboy,
“Will you keep a cow when you become a man?” His reply was “As if I had
three lives!” Nothing could better express the secret. If a man had food
in a time of famine, when all the others had not, his position would not
be an enviable one. Unless in the immediate neighbourhood of the Mission,
few had goods laid up except chiefs, but if security were guaranteed,
native avarice and ambition would take this direction.
Natives see that they could make many improvements, but they count the
cost. Bishop Steere says:—“There are no roads in this part of Africa, no
carriages and no beasts of burden, only a narrow footpath, so overgrown
sometimes that one wonders the men who pass along do not clear it, until
one remembers that the very last thing an African wishes, is to have an
easy road to his village. If he could persuade himself that the next
comer was likely to turn back and think that there was no road, he would
sleep much more securely.” We were once walking along a native path with
a person just come into the country, and were amused to notice how his
taste was offended by small branches that were lying on the path. He
carefully laid them aside with his staff, under the belief that he was
teaching the natives a lesson, and conferring on them a permanent benefit!
In Quilimane where natives enjoy European protection, they make advances
in material improvement. But it is the lowest class of native that is
found there. When masters in the interior sell slaves, they first dispose
of the worst characters. Hence the settler on the coast forms a harsh
view of the black man. In short he begins to despair of the native, and
the native in his turn may despair of him! A Portuguese gentleman told
me the following anecdote, which I mention in illustration. A chief
from Mlanje frequently went to Quilimane, and a certain Portuguese lady
used to treat this native king with much deference. But one day she had
a young lad with her, and as they sat together, Matapwiri came up and
squatted beside the young Portuguese gentleman. The latter resented this,
and promptly gave Matapwiri a blow. The lady interposed, ‘But this is the
great Matapwiri—there will be a quarrel if—’ ‘I don’t care who he is. A
native shan’t come and sit down by me that way!’ Nothing could better
shew the light in which the European settler often regards the negro.
But some natives here show a desire for advancement. One chief left his
son as a slave in Quilimane for several years. After the boy had been
initiated into civilized life he disappeared at once, no one knew how or
where: but he is said now to occupy an important position in his native
land. His father had seen the importance of civilization and employed
this stratagem to educate his son. There are traits of character to be
met with, even among the lowest natives, that remind us of the words:—
“Deem our nation brutes no longer,
Till some reason ye shall find,
Worthier of regard and stronger,
Than the colour of our kind.
Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings
Tarnish all your boasted powers,
Prove that you have human feelings,
Ere you proudly question ours.”
Quilimane, like all other places which we might think beyond the reach
of history has its incidents too. One day we found the whole population
in a state of great consternation owing to a report that Tete had been
attacked, and that its Portuguese inhabitants were in danger of being
massacred. All these Portuguese stations on the Zambeze are usually well
protected by soldiers, but the garrison had been temporarily absent and
now news had come that the natives had risen against the townsmen. The
keeping of standing armies here is a hard task. Some of the soldiers are
half-castes and they as a rule are more troublesome than pure natives. We
lodged near the barracks and the commander used to send to the English
lady to apologise for having to flog his soldiers near her window.
At Quilimane there was a functionary appointed to dispense floggings, and
when a slave or servant offended, the custom was to send him to this man
with a slip of paper which stated how much punishment the culprit was to
receive!
One point where the Portuguese differ very much from us, is in their
estimate of Livingstone, whose life they criticise with the greatest
severity, their remarks almost reminding one of the hard things that old
Roman Catholic writers used to state regarding Luther. When at Blantyre,
we used to get the Magololo headmen to talk about their late master, and
they certainly recounted many exploits that were quite new to us, only
before being influenced by their statements we had to remember that these
men would speak what they thought would please us best, and when they
discovered that we looked on Livingstone as a hero, they would mention a
great many things that agreed better with their own ideal of a hero than
with ours.
When the steamer at length arrived, Antani came on board with us and went
over the whole of it, promising to tell his friends, on his return, of
the wonders of the ‘large boat,’ and so we parted.
At Zanzibar as I looked down from the side of the steamer on the native
boats, I was hailed in the Yao language. I replied in the same, and a
spirited conversation began. The young man that accosted me was not a
Yao but a Makua, only he had been in the Yao district. He soon collected
his friends, and they were in great glee over an Msungu who could
speak in the languages of the interior. Natives are here much freer in
conversing with the European than in Quilimane, where the Portuguese make
them keep a respectful distance. They told their friends in the town
about us, and as we passed along the streets we met some that could say
‘achimwene’ and who gave us a cordial greeting. At Zanzibar we saw Dr.
Steere’s Mission, which was a very cheering sight. At Blantyre we were
often sustained, and much more than sustained, by the thought of what
we looked forward to as the infallible result of some ten years’ honest
work. Here we saw the result of twenty years’ work and it could not fail
to be gratifying to one that considered the subject. Dr. Steere says to
those that would estimate Missionary difficulties, ‘You must pause for a
while and find yourselves, as we did, standing opposite five boys with
scarce any clothing, in dreadful fear of something far worse than slavery
or death, and we unable to make them understand one word’. Such is the
commencement. By and by he can write, “We have no longer to begin with an
English reading card because we have nothing else. We have reduced the
Swahili to writing and found out its grammatical rules.”
When I passed Zanzibar the Swahili Bible was fast approaching its
completion! We ask any one to reflect what great labour this implies.
If we lived in times when Church censures took a tangible form, and if
any man were ordered to write out the whole of the Bible in his own
language before he could be restored to the Church, the sentence would be
equivalent to excommunication for life. Most men would be too discouraged
to attempt the task amidst other work, and the various interruptions
that they might count on. But the Missionary has to write the Bible
in a FOREIGN language amidst much pressure of other work, and many
interruptions that no man is subjected to amidst European civilization,
and if a single or even a _twofold_ copying of his material be
sufficient, the circumstance would say a great deal more for his present
peace of mind than for the permanent value of his work. All the time he
is translating he is obliged to keep up the closest intercourse with the
natives, ever learning from them, and ever teaching them, introducing
reading books, founding schools, forming friendships and consecrating
these friendships by imparting views of life that go beyond the seen and
temporary. Besides having stations on Zanzibar, Bishop Steere[16] has
been carrying his work far into the interior of the Dark Continent.
The interior is in some respects the more promising field. There are
many highland sites where the European can work with all his might. He
can study hard, and personally engage in teaching without suffering in
health, whereas the climate is so enervating in stations on the coast
and fever is so prevalent that few constitutions can do more than keep
this enemy at bay. Again in large places where an artificial civilization
shews itself, the Missionary takes his position not merely as a man, but
as a civilized man, and this makes a breach between him and his dark
friend, which the latter feels very much. I have sometimes been sitting
in conversation with an old headman when another European would join us.
Then the English language was spoken, and our native friend would say
with sadness that he “did not know English,” and he would sit in silence
evidently regretting that his white friend was not so near him after
all. This is only an illustration of peculiar disadvantages which are
greatly done away with in the wilds of the Interior. All this, it may
be said, is counterbalanced by the fact that in the interior there are
constant wars. Such difficulties however will gradually pass away as the
evangelistic work is quietly carried on, and most of them may be met by
the simple plan of carefully placing a Mission station in the disturbed
district. The one great obstacle in the interior is the difficulty of
communication, and the want of all appliances from books downwards.
Beyond Zanzibar, the next place where we see anything of the African
is at Aden, where we meet specimens of the Samali in a few active boys
with dyed hair, who crowd round the steamer to dive for coins. There
happened to be a Samali boy on board our steamer, as also a Makua.
Owing to quarantine laws their masters could not land, and a number of
pilgrims for Mecca had to be brought on to London. The mention of London
had a dispiriting effect upon the Asiatics. They were certain the cold
would kill them, and went about weeping—not weeping like a European—the
poor fellows actually “lifted up their voice and wept”. Withal their
misfortune made them more demonstrative in their devotions. Some of
the passengers evinced a strong disposition to laugh at this, others
maintained that few Christians would be so exemplary in calling upon
their God. We should be able to get some good out of everything, and
we have often admired the regularity with which as the moment arrived,
they turned their faces towards Mecca and knelt down to pray. One feature
in the Christian is that when on a journey, although he meet other
Christians, he wishes to worship by himself. Thus he avoids the dreaded
charge of hypocrisy, but there is something that should be dreaded on
the other side. He may begin to forget that his religion is something
that ought not to be selfishly shut up in his own bosom. The forms of
Mahommedanism seem to draw its worshippers together. But alas! they
appeared to derive but little comfort from their earnest supplications.
They always had a sadness about them. After a long residence among
natives that kept sorrow no longer than sorrow kept them, this struck
me as the manifestation of a new temperament. The only man that could
be cheerful was the Makua servant, who was known as the “big grinning
nigger”. The grief of the others threatened to make them unmanageable.
But the hopefulness of this representative of the Lake Region, might well
make us hopeful for his race, and we have no doubt that the time is fast
approaching when these African tribes will be “made glad according to the
days in which they have seen evil”!
We gazed wistfully as the great continent was within sight for the last
time. On one side we had Gibraltar brightly lighted up, and suggesting
so much historical interest. But on the other side there was a solitary
lighthouse that touched a deeper chord in our hearts as it flashed a
farewell from the Dark Continent. There rose before our minds all the
hopeful days we had spent in that land of promise, while to our lips came
the line which we ventured thus to misquote:—
“Moritur, et moriens dulces reminiscitur Afros.”
END OF VOL. II.
APPENDIX.
AFRICAN FOLK LORE.
APPENDIX TO VOL. II.
NATIVE TALES.
“Children’s Tales now, but not the invention of a child’s
intellect.”—BISHOP CALLAWAY.
The time has now come when Folk Lore is considered valuable for its own
sake. It is hoped, too, that these simple African Tales will throw some
light on the native mind. But it must be remembered that when rendered
by a native reciter they have a character which no translation can
reproduce; moreover, tales that appear quite pointless to a European,
will make an old native laugh till tears run down his cheeks.
Originally, some of these Tales may have been an account of actions that
really happened, and which floated down the stream of time long after the
agents had sunk in oblivion. Then as now, the name of each native was
significant, and as these actions kept afloat they drew to themselves
appropriate names. If the action was clever, it was attributed to a Mr.
Rabbit (who corresponds to the Fox of European tales): while every hero
remarkable for gluttony—a trait of character likely to be noted in those
primitive days—is a Mr. Hyæna (who corresponds to the Wolf of our Western
tales).
As might be expected there is a great difference between African Folk
Lore and European. After seeing African habitations, we scarcely expect
to be told of a damsel “shut up in a tower” or “peering into a forbidden
room,” and after meeting natives in their ordinary costume, we should
be surprised to find Tales of “beautiful dresses and slippers of gold”.
Again, in African Legends we seldom encounter statements like the
following which meet us almost everywhere in Grimm’s Fairy Tales:—“A poor
peasant was so destitute that he did not possess a foot of land”. “It
was with difficulty they could maintain themselves, at length matters
became worse, they had no longer even bread to eat.” “A poor man had
twelve children, and was obliged to work day and night to obtain even
bread for them.” “What will become of us? How can we feed these poor
children when we have nothing for ourselves?” Except in days of famine
sad pictures like these would have no meaning for the African. But at
the same time there are pleasant pictures in the European Tales that
the African cannot appreciate. Rarely does the Bard of Central Africa
go into raptures over a “handsome virgin” or a “maiden of rare beauty”.
He knows nothing of such a personage. But this is not the fault of the
negro woman. The enormous ring in the upper lip and the deep tatoos that
mark her face, chest, and arms shew how desirous she is to please and to
attract attention. Yet, although she carries small stones in her mouth
to improve her speech (which has no defect like that of Demosthenes), she
does not induce any poet to sing that “her voice is low and sweet”. She
certainly does not merit all this neglect, and it is chiefly on account
of African marriage customs that it falls upon her.
It will be perceived that the style of these stories is very primitive
compared with English. The sentence, “He proposed to go back, and on
arriving at his home he gave meat to the nurse, and asked after his
children,” would in the mouth of the African become:—He said, “Let us go
back” (and they replied, “Very well, let us go”). Then they set out to go
back. When they arrived at the village he (stood on the path and) called
and said, “Nurse”. The latter said, “Yes, I am here”. Then he said, “Take
this meat”. He said also, “Now, are the children all well,” and the nurse
said, “Yes, all are well”. So when our pupils wrote on Scripture subjects
they did not hesitate to attribute to speakers a conversation which was
not recorded. For instance, if the third verse of Genesis had really
been, “And God created light,” they would have rendered it, “And God
said, Let there be light, and there was light”. We often felt that their
peculiarity might illustrate questions about the Verbal Inspiration of
the Scriptures.
These tales have been selected and literally translated from my
Manuscript Collection of Tales, Songs, Enigmas and Itagu. Number 54 was
communicated by Mr. John Buchanan, F.L.S.
31. THE DEAD CHIEF AND HIS YOUNGER BROTHER.
There was a chief that built his village large, and he had many women,
and he had a younger brother who did not come to his chief. The chief
became ill and died, his brother was left, and went to inherit the title
(97). Then arose a great war in order to capture those women. The (new)
village chief had tied up bundles of beans. And the people that wanted
war came and sat in the forum, and he hid himself and peered at them as
they sat there. Then he said, “These people are many, I will consult the
chief at the grave” (14). So he went and clapped[17] his hands and told
the chief who was dead. The latter said, “It is long since you visited me
when I was alive, what is the matter now?” He replied, “Alas! O chief,
I have seen enemies, yea, many are at the village (here), and I said,
‘I will go to ask of the chief’”. The latter said, “Go and salute these
people”. Then he went to salute them, and the people that wanted war,
said, “In this land many plants have yielded fruit which are tied in
bundles”. So they said to themselves, “He (the chief) is a very wise[18]
man, and knows about a relish stored in bundles”.
They returned, and went home and met the king of their own home, who
was called Manjelele, and said, “O king, you are very stupid. That man
is exceedingly wise”. He said, “Nonsense—go away again, capture in war
all the women and bring them”. Then the army went back and caught all the
women. The chief himself also ran away, and again he went to the grave
and said (to his dead brother), “Chief, I have come on account of my
women, they are all carried off by war”. Then his brother gave him four
small bags, and said, “Well, follow the army to their village”: and he
added, “Should you find a large tree unloose one little bag”. So he took
them, and he found the large tree put in his way, and he opened, and a
wood-moth came forth and entered the tree and gnawed, and a passage was
made, and the chief passed through with his attendant. Again he followed
on in the track of the army, and he found that a stone had been put
in his way farther on, and he opened another bag and there came out a
manis (mbawe) and dug under the stone; and he passed through with his
attendant. Again he followed the tracks of the army, and beyond that he
found the river, which the army had passed in a boat. Then he opened (the
third bag), and there came forth a spider and went to the other side,
and he crossed with his attendant and arrived at the village whence the
war had come, and he sat down at the road to the village to wait till
darkness came on. As soon as it was dark, he opened the other bag also,
and a rat set off for that village and went to a basket, and it slept
there. By and by the king that had begun the war came to sleep, and on
going to sleep he took away his eyes[19] and put in the basket, and the
rat took the king’s eyes. At dawn he called his men, and said, “Let all
assemble with their captives that I may see them”. The men assembled, and
said, “Now, tell the king to come and see his prisoners”.
The king came and took a chair to sit on, and called for his eyes,
saying, “Fetch my eyes from the basket,” and they looked in the basket
and found that his eyes were not there. The king cried, saying, “What
shall I see my prisoners with?” The other chief stood across the stream
and said, “Let me go back with my people. I also have captured in war, I
followed you. The eyes of the king I have carried off.”
And the king cried, saying, “My men, give up his people”. Then his men
said to him, “We told you, O king, that we must not go yonder to capture
in war. Lo! the people will return without being seen with your eyes,”
and they restored all the people. Then the chief at the grave said, “I
told you to follow the army. Lo! all the people have returned.”
32. THE CHIEF THAT HOED AT THE GRAVES.
There was a woman that had a little child, and she hoed a garden at
the graves, and there came a little man from the graves—little Amlele.
The woman wished to hoe, and she loosed the child, and made the stump
of a tree bear him (tied him to a tree). Then rose Amlele and said “To
make the stump bear him rather than a person’s side!” and he took care
of the child and carried him to the graves. Then she hoed till she was
tired. And she said, “Now I will call for my child,” and she called for
him, saying, “Amlele, give me my child”. And he gave him to the mother
herself. Then she went to the village, but did not tell that she hoed at
the graves and that there was a spirit nursing her child.
When she went on the morrow to hoe, she saw that little Amlele was come
again; again he began to call for the child. Again he went with him to
the graves, and cut open his skin and put him in the sand (beside the
water). And the woman hoed and was tired again, and she called Amlele
without success—he did not bring back the child again.
And she went to call those at the village, saying, “My son was carried
away to the graves by one that did not come back with him”. Then the
people ran and went to the graves there, and they found him put down in
the sand, and they cleaned off the sand, and returned from the graves
to the village, mourning. And they went away to the oracle of the
Humble-bee,[20] and he spoke with a low voice, and said, “But the chief
is the man that wants to destroy us out of the country”.
All the people ran away because of witchcraft. The oracle has caught the
chief of the village, because he hoed at the graves and bewitched his
child in order that Amlele should eat it (106).
The chief said, “Now I am left alone. I will make friendship with
the guinea-fowl,” and he did so. And he said, “Go away, pick up many
_masukus_ and their stones, and sleep in a plain without trees”. It
picked for him ten baskets, and he said, “Sow everywhere,” and it sowed
in the whole plain. He himself slept in the middle of the plain. Next day
he awoke and found many houses, the _masukus_ had become men.
Then he brewed beer, saying, “Now, I have found another village”. And
he called the guinea-fowl, saying, “Friend, come now, there are many
people”. And they went together (the guinea-fowl and Simwe[21]) to drink
beer. And it said, “But do you, my friend, leave off speaking evil, lest
the people be startled at you”.
Then they drank beer, and Simwe became drunk, and said, “I am the chief,
these are my own people, I picked up ten baskets of _masukus_, I sowed in
the plain, and the _masukus_ became men”. Then his friend ran away from
him, saying, “His words are bad, he cannot stay with people”. So he slept
again, and he awoke—his people were not, because (said they) he takes us
for _masukus_[22]: so he was alone. Then he clothed himself with the
skin of a civet (?) (ngwime) (a creature which sleeps on an ant-hill),
and whenever he saw a person he called him, saying, “You there! come
near,” and the person ran away. When the person ran away, he said, “I am
bad. I cannot stay with my fellow men.” Then he went away journeying in
the great bush. He asked for a village, and the _tolo_ (a small mole)
responded and said, “Come to my home and dwell there. I have built a
stone house.” So he accompanied (the _tolo_); let the man look at its
house! it is not good! its door is the heads of cockroaches! And he said,
“Ay! you deceiver of me: I enter a small hole!” And Simwe said, “I will
bring the _nyingalwe_ against you”. And he brought against him his friend
(the nyingalwe), who said, “You are a great liar—a rascal—a deceiver of
the chief, saying to him, ‘Come let us enter a stone house,’ which was
just a little hole, but may you never thrive”.
But the _tolo_ cursed the nyingalwe, saying, “But may you never cross
the road except you die,” and the nyingalwe crossed the road and died.
[As the natives believe strongly in charms we need not wonder that they
invoke a sorcerer to curse their enemies, in the same way as did Balak
the son of Zippor.]
33. THE FOX AND THE HYENA.
The hyena made friendship; two days after, he set out, and he said, “But
let an attendant go with me”. They said, “Let him go with the mbendu,”
(a creature with little spots like the njusi[23]).
They were going along the road and the hyena said, “If we meet with women
washing grains of millet, you will ask for water, and I shall ask for
millet!” As they went on they met the women washing the millet and the
mbendu said, “Give me water,” while the hyena said, “Give me millet”. The
women took millet in a plate to give the hyena, and they give the mbendu
water in a cup.
The latter said, “Come let us wash it that it may become soft,” but the
hyena refused and said, “Why did you not beg your own for yourself?” and
he chewed it alone[24] without giving to his attendant.
Farther on he began to tell him again saying, “If we meet with the women
cutting sugar cane, you will beg the leaves, I shall beg the canes, we
shall tie them up”. They went forward and met with the women cutting
sugar cane. The hyena said, “Give me the canes,” the mbendu said, “Give
me the leaves”. They cut four canes and gave the hyena, and they took
leaves and gave the mbendu. The mbendu said, “Let us tie them”. The hyena
was fierce and said, “Ah! for whom?” and did not give him.
And they went beyond that and came to another place and found a lake,
and he said, “The village we go to is there. If we have porridge cooked
for us and tie it up in a leaf,[25] then if you hear at the lake
lino-lino-lino-lino-lino you ought to run away and throw down the leaf of
porridge.”
Farther on the hyena said, “This is medicine, if we get porridge, you
will come to dig it”.
He went on and arrived at the village of his friend, and the latter said,
“My friend has come,” and he killed fowls, and cooked, and made porridge,
and said, “Let us give the strangers,” and porridge was put down:
when the hyena began, “Bring that medicine that we may eat it to the
porridge”. The mbendu went off running. After that the hyena cut leaves
to set down everywhere and he ate up all the porridge. When the mbendu
returned, he said, “There came a great party, look at the leaves (which
were used as plates) here sat some, here sat others, here sat others”.
The hyena said, “Let us go home to-morrow”. The mbendu said, “Yes, let
us go;” the mbendu was starving. Next day there was porridge cooked for
them, and he said, “Tie it all up, tie it in leaves”. The mbendu tied up
the porridge and carried it. On the way the hyena said, “I will pass this
way, let us meet farther on”. The mbendu kept going just on the path,
the hyena went to the pool and dived, and put out his mouth, and said,
“Lino-lino-lino-lino-lino!” The mbendu was afraid, and threw the leaf
with the porridge into the lake. The hyena took it out and went to devour
it.
When he came farther on he met with the mbendu who had nothing to carry.
He asked him saying, “You have thrown away that leaf? Quite right! you
were wise, the wild beast would have bitten you.” When they reached their
home the villagers said, “You are thin, mbendu, you are thin!” He said,
“Umph! hunger”.
They staid five days at home. The hyena said, “I will go to my friend’s
again. Who shall I go with to-day?” Then the Mbendu refused, and he said,
“Come, fox,[26] let us go together”. The fox said, “Yes, chief, come”. So
they went together.
When arrived at the road, the hyena gave instructions, “You, fox, if we
meet with women—you will beg water, I shall beg grain”. They came to the
women. The hyena said, “Give me grain”. The fox said, “Give me grain and
the water also”. The hyena took grain, and it was given him on a plate,
the fox also took grain, and it was given him in his hands, and water
also in a cup. The hyena said, “Give the hyena that water”. The fox said,
“Why did you not beg your own?” Then the fox refused to give him.
Further on the hyena said, “Now this pool is dreadful”. The fox asked,
“Why is it dreadful?” The hyæna said, “If one carry porridge, a wild
beast is dreadful”. The fox said, “How does it say when roaring?” The
hyæna said, “It says Lino-lino-lino-lino”. The fox said, “Ay!” The hyena
said, “If you carry a leaf with porridge you should throw it down”. He
said, “Yes”. They advanced and came farther on, and he said, “This is
medicine, if porridge is cooked at the village you will come to dig it”.
But the fox left his arrow, he went farther on, and said, “Master, I have
forgotten that arrow”. He said, “Where?” He said, “Where you showed me
the medicine there”. He said, “Fetch it”. The Fox went running and came
to the medicine, where he had left his arrow, and he dug and put the
medicine in his bag, and returned. And he said, “Have you picked it (your
arrow) up?” He said, “Yes, I have”. And he said, “Well, let us go on”.
They went on and arrived. The hyena’s friend said, “My friend has come.
Kill a fowl for him.” They killed a fowl for him, and cooked porridge
too, and came with it and set it down. The hyena then began saying, “Go
and seek that medicine”. But the fox took the medicine out of his bag and
said, “Master, this is that medicine”. Then was the hyena very fierce,
and said, “You, fox, are clever at evil!” The hyena refused his porridge,
saying, “You go on eating”. So the fox ate.
The hyena said, “Let us go away to-morrow”. In the evening a fowl was
killed, that they might eat it with their porridge. Next day porridge was
cooked and the fowl also and was given. He said, “Fox, tie it up”. The
fox then tied it, and went along the road. The hyæna said, “Go on before
me, I will go this way, and we shall meet in front”. Then the hyena went
stealthily, and arrived in front, and let himself down into the pool, and
dived and put out his mouth wide open, and said, “Lino-lino-lino-lino”.
The fox said, “Ah! there’s the wild beast”. The fox sat down and took his
knife and commenced to cut the bark-cords (which tied the leaves), and
he took a stone, then he unloosed the porridge, and ate and finished it,
entirely eating it up, reserving only a mouthful, which he plastered on
the stone, and threw it into the mouth at the pool, and the hyena died.
The fox then ran and cut off his head, and made a little drum and covered
it with the hyena’s skin: then he went along the road, and met women
digging beans (njama). The fox beat his drum, saying, “Ti, ti, war”. The
women fled,[27] the fox picked up the baskets and went home.
At the village they said, “Where did you leave the hyena?” And he said,
“We left them brewing beer for him”. They found that it was indeed a
stay, the hyena never returned.
35. TAMING MONKEYS AND BUCK.
There was a man that tamed monkeys, while another tamed buck, and they
became friends. The owner of the monkeys said, “Come to my home, you will
see monkeys”. Then he went to his home and found they had gone out. He
said “Friend, where have they gone?” He said, “They have gone to feed”.
He said, “Call them”. He went to call them and they came: and he said,
“These are my monkeys,” and he said, “If I had seen them, I should have
taken them for food”.[28] (The monkeys heard this.) He said, “Friend,
don’t say so, you will make my monkeys run away”. Thereupon the monkeys
did run away. He (the stranger) said, “Come you to my home, you will see
buck that I have tamed”. He went and found the buck, and said, “These
are meat to give me to eat?” The buck ran away to go to the jungle. His
friend said, “You have made my buck run away”. He said, “You come and
answer my accusation, let us go to the forum”. Then the judges came and
asked, “Who began it,” then they decided, “You must just pay each other”.
So they paid each other in beer. They brewed, and invited each other, and
drank, and said, “That case is finished”. Then both were contented. [This
exemplifies a popular method of settling small quarrels.]
36. TAMING DOGS.
There was a land with a man.[29] This man used to go to the moors of
marsh pigs (?). When this man with his dogs was going near a lake,
they started a marsh pig, and it fell into the lake. In the lake was a
crocodile, and the man also went down there, and the crocodile caught
him, without biting him. The dogs kept searching much for their master:
their master was placed in a cavern. Now the dogs in their search
sometimes went to smell the earth, and they scented him. The dogs then
set to dig in the earth there, and they dug three days. On the fourth
they penetrated down, and their master was afraid again when he saw
(light). But soon he said, “These are my dogs”. Let him look out, it is
all light! “Now my dogs have penetrated!” And he came out and went to the
village.
The villagers were mourning, and one child on going round the house met
him and returned again, and said, “Mother, be quiet, don’t cry, I saw my
father”. Its mother said, “You lie, your father was lost long ago”. It
said, “Mother, no, come, let us go to see”.
When she went along with the child she saw him, and said, “Child, you
don’t lie,” and she caught her husband by the arm, saying, “Come to my
house”.
And she said, “Explain where you went”. He said, “I went to the moors, I
was hunting a marsh pig, and it sank in a pond, I also sank there, and my
dogs sought me, I came out, so that you see me here. Had it not been my
dogs, the crocodiles would have eaten me. Dogs are good. People should
keep dogs.” Then many people said, “Yes, yes, yes, let us get dogs. That
man’s dogs saved his life.”
And each one there was buying dogs, each one there was buying dogs. Then
people got many dogs because dogs had dug their master from the cavern.
37. ON OUR HOME (A YAO’S HISTORY OF HIS TRIBE).
Here is not our home. We lived long ago at Mangochi, a large hill like
Zomba. The Walolo lived on the other side of the (river) Lujenda, on the
road to Chisanga. The Walolo were capturing the Machinga to carry them
to Chisanga and exchange them for cloth. The Walolo were brave, and had
many guns. The Machinga dwelt at Mandimbi, and the Walolo made them flee.
So the Machinga came to the country of the Wayao, and the Wayao fled.
We removed from that place, and went along the road, and the Wanyasa
interfered with us, and pierced us with arrows, and we began war, and
took their food from them.
The English lived with the Wanyasa. The Wanyasa said, “Help us,” and
there began war with the English. They all came to Ulumba (Vol. II. 12).
The English read the book and prayed to God. On that day the Wayao fled
in all directions, and they returned and found the Machinga following
behind them. They said, “Why do you turn back?” They said, “Why! we have
encountered white men!” Then the Machinga staid there, without advancing
farther. After this all the Wanyasa fled across the river, and the Wayao
settled in this land.
The Wayao had many fierce chiefs. The Machinga killed one by treachery,
some began to sell their own people and were left alone, their people ran
away from them; another was killed by the Mangoni.
War is an evil, it destroys people, there came famine: after that people
said, “Now let us go and hoe”. They hoed much food.
The Magololo accompanied the English. When the English reached their
boat they left them and said, “Now, be friends, war is bad, so leave it
off, agree with the Wayao”. The Book of God was brought forth and all
assented. The English said, “Now let us go home”. [Livingstone made the
natives swear on the Bible that they would live in peace.]
After this the Mangoni came, they crossed by boat, they came in war. The
Wayao ran to Ndilande. The Wanyasa ran to the islands. They have many
islands. The Machinga ran to Zomba. The Walolo did not run away.
Before those that fled had come down from the mountains, the English came
and settled in this land, and the Mangoni went away. The people came down
from the mountains and farmed again (Vol. II. 25).
38. KALIKALANJE.[30]
There was a woman who had a husband, and they went to hoe in the garden
and the man sneezed, and the woman said, Gwigwigwi.[31] The man asked
her saying, “What do you want?” The woman said, “I want the eggs of
an ostrich”. The man said, “I want water where frogs do not croak”.
They both assented to the bargain. The man went to seek the eggs of an
ostrich, and brought five, and gave them to his wife. The woman went to
seek water where frogs did not croak. She went far, far away and found
water. At that water she met with Namzimu, the owner, who asked, “What
do you want?” The woman replied, “I want water, where frogs croak not”.
Namzimu said, “What do you give in exchange for it”? The woman bargained
with Namzimu saying, “I am with child: when I bear the child I will give
it to you”. Then Namzimu said, “Draw water”. So she drew water, and went
to the village and gave her husband. The husband said, “That is right, my
wife”. After this, Namzimu went to the woman’s, and said, “Give me the
child to eat”. The woman said, “No, the child is not born”. Then Namzimu
went away. There passed three days, and the child was born, and the woman
was roasting[32] castor-oil beans, and the child leapt on the pot-sherd,
and said, “I am Kalikalanje”.
He went from the pot-sherd with his bow and his spear and his four dogs.
Then Namzimu quickly came and said, “Now, give me the child to eat”.
The woman said, “Yes, I will give you him”. So she took Namzimu and hid
him in the grain basket, and took bananas and put above him, and at
night the woman called her son, Kalikalanje, and said, “O please my son,
Kalikalanje, climb up here, and fetch bananas”. Kalikalanje said, “No, I
will climb upon the roof where nothing dances (shakes)”. Then the woman
told Namzimu saying, “Dance on the roof there”; (because the woman wished
to cheat her son). When Namzimu danced, Kalikalanje however stood at the
door and said, “Ho! what’s that dancing there? I don’t want to climb now
on the roof where there is dancing”. Then Kalikalanje ran away, and
Namzimu did not catch him that night.
Next day the woman took Namzimu and went with him to the garden,[33]
and hid him in the grass and said, “Stay you here, this night I send
Kalikalanje to come and burn grass, and you will see (a lad) whose
head is shaved on one side[34] and who wears a black loin cloth. That
is Kalikalanje.” That night the woman shaved Kalikalanje on one side
of the head, and put on him black cloth and sent him to the garden and
said, “Go, burn the grass in the garden”.[35] So Kalikalanje took his
shaving knife and black cloth, and his dogs, and his spear, and called
his companions and said, “Come, to the garden of my mother, to play”.
When they came to the parting of the roads, Kalikalanje told his friends
saying, “Come, let me shave your hair on one side, that we may play
properly”. When he had shaved his companions’ heads, he put on them
pieces of black cloth, and said, “You all—your names are Kalikalanje, and
we shall go to the garden, when we burn grass, everyone is Kalikalanje,
Kalikalanje”. His comrades assented saying, “Very Good!”
They came to the garden and burned the grass, and all of them said,
“Kalikalanje, Kalikalanje, Kalikalanje”. When they came to the large
grass Kalikalanje said, “Let us all come, and burn this grass with fire,
round and round, and let us hold our bows in our hands”.