ZULU CUSTOMS.—UKULOBOLA.—UMKOSI.—INTEYEZI.—INSOMYAMA.—KAFIR
DOCTORS.—FATE OF THE WITCH DOCTOR, KONGOTA, AND HIS VICTIMS.—BISHOP
CALLOWAY AND ZULU “FOLK-LORE.”
While acting as district surgeon at Verulam under Dr. Blaine’s
magistracy, my connection with the government, as a matter of course,
enabled me to gain an insight into native customs, with which I should
not otherwise have had the opportunity of becoming acquainted. I had
further the good fortune of being associated in these matters with a
gentleman who thoroughly understood the Kafir language and character,
and whose ability has since been recognized by his promotion to an
important magistracy by the Natal government. I allude to Mr. J. C. C.
Chadwick, then clerk to the resident magistrate at Verulam, Victoria
County. This gentleman published in 1879 some commentaries on native
laws, customs and usages,[7] which are very interesting.
There are many customs among the Zulus of Natal which are known only to
the natives themselves or to those who have given great study to the
subject. Some—among others Mr. F. B. Fynney, who now occupies an
important official position under the Natal government, but whom I knew
as a sugar planter on the coast—think that the Zulus must have had at
one time an intimate connection with the Hebrew nation, as many of their
customs are decidedly similar to those practiced by the Jews, to whom
possibly they may have been in bondage in the past ages. Amongst the
usages to which Mr. Fynney draws particular attention in support of this
opinion, is the custom which the maidens follow of proceeding annually
to the hills to mourn or wail, thus reminding one forcibly of Jephthah’s
daughter. That they have a distinct religious trust, and acknowledge
both the existence of a supreme being, who created all things, and who
is endowed with infinite power, and that they also believe in another
world and a hereafter, he has no doubt. One thing is certain—they are
exceptionally superstitious, believe in signs, omens and supernatural
agencies. Nothing, in fact, according to them, happens by chance. They
even offer sacrifices to propitiate a supreme deity, whom not having
seen, they yet believe. Then, too, they have their “lesser gods,” the
spirits of their deceased ancestors; they have their conscience, their
sense of right and wrong, and their laws and customs to regulate their
social life. There is no denying the fact that a broad idea of a supreme
divinity circulates among them, and, as the Right Rev. Henry Calloway,
Bishop of St. John’s, who has devoted great study to the subject, says:
“The existence of the religious instincts in the natives, of those germs
of religious truth—which, among Christian people with a divine
revelation, have been developed into so glorious a religion—is evident
from the readiness with which, under proper teaching, they accept the
fact of the creating power continued to be manifested in Providence; and
that that creating power is our Father in heaven.”
The Rev. Dr. Lindley as well, after forty years’ experience among the
natives of South Africa, always expressed to me his belief in the easy
and gradual improvability of the native when not exposed to the
contaminating influence of the low white colonist, and to the coarse
materialism presented to him to copy.
While I was district surgeon the customs of the natives interested me
very much, and I will mention those which most attracted my notice.
_Ukulobola_, or the practice of giving cattle to the father or guardian
of a girl or widow, on her marriage, by her husband, is one of the
oldest laws among the natives of South Africa. Looking at the practice
from an Englishman’s point of view, it is tantamount to the purchase and
sale of women, but it does not bear the same construction in the native
mind, for it is by them considered as compensation for the loss of a
daughter’s services at an age when, by her usefulness and affection, she
might give some return for the care and attention which she received in
childhood. Moreover, the girl glories in it as a proof of her worth,
while the man himself would not value a wife who cost nothing. The
intended son-in-law, when engaged to a girl, generally begins to pay the
necessary cattle in instalments, and as he has to run the risk of their
dying, their sickness and death very often delay the marriage. If an
engagement is broken off the suitor gets back all the cattle he may have
paid on account; again, if a wife die without issue the husband can
claim the cattle he has paid, or the father must give him another girl
instead; but if the husband die while the wife is still young, a younger
brother takes the wife, or she returns home, and the husband’s estate
receives back the cattle, supposing the wife has borne no children.
Their law of inheritance is a study in itself. A Natal Kafir looks upon
any money or goods he may acquire as valuable only as a means of
acquiring cattle, by possession of which he may obtain wives. Land they
do not claim individually, and they set value on it only as the common
right of their tribe. The head man of a _kraal_ is a patriarch indeed,
and is responsible for the good behavior of the members of it. If he has
a son who is married, that son cannot, during his father’s lifetime, say
which of his wives shall be his _Ikohlo_ (right-hand wife), or which his
_Iquadi_ (left-hand wife), but his father, after due consideration,
chooses them for him, and when once appointed neither their position nor
that of their children can be altered, however badly they may behave.
The _Inkosikazi_ is the wife of the greatest rank, her hut is placed in
the centre opposite the gateway of the kraal, and her eldest son is
heir. The hut of the right-hand wife is placed to the right side, that
of the left-hand wife to the left of that of the “inkosikazi,” and of
course they occupy the next position to that of the chief wife. If male
issue fail the chief wife, the eldest son of the “ikohlo,” or right-hand
wife, can only succeed to the chieftainship in event of male issue
failing all the wives of the left-hand side. The head of the kraal is
entitled to receive all the earnings of his sons or daughters, but he is
expected to start his sons in life, or in other words, to find their
marriage portion. The following diagram shows the position of the chief
huts in a kraal:
[Illustration]
Generally when the head of a kraal dies, the heir leaves the kraal to
the chief wife and to the “iquadi,” his younger brothers remaining, and
if any of his father’s widows are young enough, his uncles or some other
man is appointed to raise up seed to his (the heir’s) house. This custom
is called _Ukungena_, but is now modified by allowing the widow, if she
chooses, to marry some other man; if so, however, the new husband must
pay a marriage consideration to the estate of the deceased husband.
The chase, too, has its rules, as also has the _Umkosi_, or dance of
first fruits, a festival before the celebration of which, at the chief’s
kraal, the first fruits of the season cannot be eaten. A large bull is
killed by the young warriors of the tribe, which is skinned, cut up, and
cooked, when the doctors first eat a portion, and then the chief does
likewise, but in doing so spits out some in the direction of the country
of each of his enemies, or rather of each independent government
situated around him; for instance, Cetywayo, the King of the Zulus, used
to spit toward Natal, the Transvaal, and the Swazi country, and utter
the names of the Governor of Natal, the Administrator of the Transvaal,
and the King of the Swazies, a custom equivalent to our drinking
confusion to all the Queen’s enemies and singing:
“Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks.”
The flesh after this is all cut up, thrown into the air, and all the
men, like hungry dogs, scramble to catch the pieces.
Next day the chief and all the men of the tribe dance in the kraal,
when, adjourning to a neighboring stream, the chief bathes, the ceremony
of “Umkosi” is finished, and the tribe can partake of the first fruits
of the season.
I may also mention the _Inteyezi_, or the sprinkling of warriors with a
decoction of herbs and roots to make them fierce and brave, the eating
of _Insomyama_, or the choicest meat, which, being consumed only in the
house of the head of the family, at once establishes the superiority of
the house, and consequently is very important evidence in trying cases
of disputed inheritance. Then again there is the penalty of damages in
the shape of an ox, which every man must pay who applies to another the
defamatory term _Umtagati_[8] or to a girl of _Isiropo_,[9] and,
further, there is the difference between the English and native laws of
evidence, which, as I am not a lawyer, I will discreetly pass over.
The intimate acquaintance I made, however, with the customs of the
native doctors (I suppose on account of its connection with my own
profession) many a time afforded me food for contemplation and
discussion.
It may not be out of the way here for me to mention the different
recognized kinds of doctors (_izinyanga_): 1st, the wizard or diviner
(_inyanga gokubula_); 2d, the rain doctor; 3d, the lightning and hail
doctor; 4th, the medicine doctor (_inyanga yokwelapa_).
[Illustration:
ZULU “MASHERS.”
]
The wizard or witch doctor is a very cunning, shrewd fellow, and he must
also be a doctor of medicine. The profession is not, however, confined
to the male sex, for as many women as men are engaged in its mysteries;
but to describe how the patients are gulled, and how the very secrets
about which they consult the doctor he manages to ascertain from
themselves, in what a professional manner they are duped, and how the
doctor’s riches and reputation increase, would take up too much time.
Rain doctors are supposed to have the power of causing rain to fall, and
are appealed to after a long drought, but they are clever enough never
to commence their incantations until indications of rain are
discernible, and consequently they are always sure of success. Next come
the lightning doctors, who dance around the kraals they have been
summoned to defend, brandishing their _assegais_ during the flashes and
violence of the storm in a manner that suggests insanity to the European
observer. Naturally they are more frequently successful than
unsuccessful. The hail doctors, again, believe that by burning medicine
while the hail is yet distant they diminish its power, and that when
they leave their huts to command it to depart it will return whence it
came. It must be understood that these doctors are not to be regarded as
opponents of the heavens, but simply as mediators. Bishop Calloway says
that many heathen have asked him to pray for rain, because he was one
whose office it was _Ukumelana nenkosi_—to contend with God—and who was
under the protection of heaven, and safe so long as he was observant of
the laws of his office. Last, but not least, is the medicine doctor.
Sickness, the natives believe, is always caused by an enemy, or by the
will of the spirits of their departed ancestors or relatives who
generally protect them from harm, but, who being sometimes angry, allow
sickness to overtake them, or the machinations of their enemies to
prevail. The doctor’s father and grandfather have generally been in the
profession before him, and the secrets of the healing art have thus been
handed down from generation to generation, though in some instances he
is a self-taught man, who has picked up some knowledge of diseases,
roots and herbs by observation and experience; but no faith, whatever,
is reposed in a doctor or diviner who happens to be fat. The medicines
employed are mostly innocent, but still many powerful drugs are included
in their pharmacopœia, for instance, they use the male fern
(_inkomankoma, lastred felix mas_) as a remedy for tape-worm, emetics by
the gallon for slight ailments, and as correctives after their
beer-drinking orgies, other medicaments so powerful that whole families,
both black and white, have been carried off by their felonious
administration; but their useful medicines are so mixed up with useless
adulterations that in most cases it would be better for the patient to
“throw physic to the dogs.” It used to be the case of “no cure, no pay;”
for, according to their law, if the patients died, or did not recover
until another medical man had been called in, the doctor got no payment;
but in Natal, now, on first attendance the doctor requires a preliminary
fee of ten shillings, nominally to buy medicine, but at the same time he
stipulates for receiving a bullock in case of a cure being effected. As
a rule they administer harmless drugs, thinking it safest to believe in
the motto of “vis medicatrix naturæ,” for there is no doubt the majority
are the most arrant quacks ever known. Some, who rank high in the
profession, travel from place to place, and as the result of their skill
and knowledge of human nature, return home after an absence of months,
or it may be years, rich in the possession of large herds of cattle. The
doctor of medicine is also often a witch doctor, and so combines in one
a knowledge of the two branches of the profession.
A case[10] occurred toward the end of 1866, in which I was engaged as
government surgeon, which at the time created an immense sensation in
Natal. It elucidates what I have just said of witch and medicine
doctoring being often combined. I think the story of the tragedy will
not be uninteresting to my readers.
Information was brought to the resident magistrate’s court at Verulam
that a native had been severely assaulted in a location some miles away,
and I was ordered by the resident magistrate, together with the clerk of
the court, to proceed to the wounded man’s kraal and investigate the
matter. Our path to the kraal, the home of the dying man, led through
the passes of one of the wildest, most rugged and most picturesque
regions to be found in the whole of Natal. Here, owing to the proximity
of the sea, we found the vegetation clothing the rocky defile to be most
luxuriantly dense and tropical. Tramping along the narrow Kafir path in
order to reach our destination, we had to push aside fantastic wreaths
of tangled convolvuli, force our way past festoons of monkey rope
parasites and other climbers, and whilst avoiding the wild date tree on
the one hand, had on the other to shun the prickly thorns of the
crimson-fruited _amatungulu_. Our tardy progress scared the barking
baboon in his rocky home, startled the chattering monkey from his lofty
perch and the timid buck from his grassy lair, whilst the
brilliant-plumaged _uqualaquala_ and other feathered denizens of the
bush flew away, alarmed at our approach. To describe the lovely,
ever-changing scenery which broke upon our view is almost impossible;
the majestic milk wood, the deadly _euphorbia_, the quaint Kafir boom,
the spreading fan-palm, the aloe, cactus and wild banana, all lending
their presence to produce an effect not easily to be effaced. Woe betide
us, however, if we did not keep a sharp lookout for the deadly snakes
coiled in the long grass at our feet, or for those which, hanging like
green tendrils from the trees above, were ever ready to drop upon our
heads.
On our arrival we found the man reported as seriously assaulted, whose
name, by the way, was Umjaba, sitting quietly smoking _bhang_ at the
gate of his kraal, with a blanket round his shoulders, seemingly
astonished at the excitement that he was creating.
On my asking him, through the court interpreter who accompanied us, what
was the matter, he denied that any assault whatever had been committed
on him, and as he neither showed me nor could I see any marks on his
person, we returned to Verulam.
Next morning, however, news was brought to the magistracy that he was
dead, and I was again ordered out to examine the body and report upon
the circumstances. The facts which I gathered were as follows:
Two months before, somewhere about the end of the year 1866, a native
doctor of the Amatonga tribe named Kongota, accompanied by a young
native who carried his pack of medicines and charms, came to the kraal
of an elderly native named Nokahlela, who resided in the Inanda
division, not far from Verulam.
As is customary amongst natives, the doctor was well received and
hospitably entertained by Nokahlela and his family, which consisted of
several wives and children of all ages, from infants in arms to grown up
sons and daughters.
It happened that shortly before the arrival of the doctor there had been
a death in the family of one of the wives of either the head of the
kraal or one of his sons. As is usual amongst the natives, the death was
of course not attributed to natural causes, but was firmly believed to
be attributable to the sorceries of some evil-disposed person, as I have
mentioned above, generally termed an _Umtagati_, and Nokahlela and his
family had some slight suspicion of a neighbor of theirs named Umjaba,
with whom they had had some disagreement. All these facts and suspicions
the wily doctor soon succeeded in finding out, and determined to turn to
his own advantage.
About this time a child of Umjaba’s sickened and died, and the doctor,
Kongota, who, if I recollect aright, had been called in to attend this
child, ascertained that Umjaba was quite ready to suspect his neighbor
Nokahlela of having brought about the infant’s death, and he therefore
made it his business to encourage the suspicion. When he found that the
suspicions he had encouraged were sufficiently strong, he boldly told
Umjaba that they were well founded; in fact, that by the practice of his
art and the power that he possessed of holding familiar intercourse with
the spirits of the departed he had ascertained that it was an absolute
fact that the child’s death was caused by the witchcraft of Nokahlela,
and that if he wished to be revenged for the murder of his child he,
Kongota, for a consideration could make that revenge easy to him. Having
thus “sown the good seed,” he departed and returned to Nokahlela’s
kraal.
Kongota then proceeded to fan Nokahlela’s suspicions as to the cause of
the death of his wife, until he succeeded in convincing him that the
death was caused by Umjaba, and having done so, he confirmed Nokahlela’s
belief in the same manner as he had that of Umjaba. The two men were now
both in the mood in which the doctor wished them to be—ready to
undertake almost anything that promised revenge for the supposed
injuries which each firmly believed that he had suffered at the hands of
the other.
For the consideration of a fine young cow, Kongota promised to procure
for Nokahlela the most complete satisfaction. Let us see how he
fulfilled his promise. According to primitive native law, an “Umtagati”
caught in the act of placing, during the night-time, at his intended
victim’s kraal, charms or medicines with the supposed object of causing
death or injury, could be seized and killed in the most cruel manner,
viz., by being pierced with sharp-pointed sticks, without even the form
of a trial. It was the gratification of treating his enemy in this
manner that Kongota promised to Nokahlela.
In furtherance of his plan, he now returned to Umjaba and sold him for a
head of cattle what he assured him was a most deadly charm. It looked
like fine, bright gunpowder, and was in reality the seed of the wild
spinach, and perfectly harmless. This he told him he had only to
sprinkle at the door of each hut of his enemy in such a manner that no
one could leave the huts without passing over it, and the death of every
one of the inmates would result. Umjaba hesitated for some time, as he
was afraid that he might be detected before he had effected his purpose,
but on Kongota offering to accompany him on the midnight expedition he
agreed to undertake it. The time was fixed and Kongota left him in
order, as he said, to prepare the way for him to carry out his design.
On the night following he promised to call for him and accompany him on
his errand of mercy!
[Illustration:
AMACI KAFIR DANCE.—ALFRED COUNTY, NATAL.
]
The doctor had now only to instruct his friend Nokahlela to receive his
nocturnal visitor, and then to reap his reward. This was soon done;
Nokahlela made the necessary preparations for giving Umjaba a proper and
fitting reception, and the doctor returned to the kraal of his dupe at
the appointed time. They were to start together about midnight. When the
hour approached, Umjaba, who felt rather uneasy about the possible
consequences of the enterprise, armed himself with an assegai and a
knobkerrie, that he might be able to defend himself in case of
necessity; but the doctor, not approving of these warlike preparations,
and thinking no doubt that he might receive a stray thrust or blow
himself when his treachery was discovered, assured him that such
precautions were utterly needless, as he had so charmed the kraal that
all its inmates were wrapped in the profoundest slumber, that not a dog
would bark, or a cat mew, and stated, moreover, that it was contrary to
all precedent to carry weapons when engaged on such an undertaking. Thus
reassured, and seeing that the doctor carried no weapon, Umjaba sallied
forth to his doom, preceded by his treacherous adviser. On arriving at
the gate of the kraal the doctor entered first, and observing the young
men of Nokahlela’s kraal lying on each side of the entrance, ready to
seize upon their victim, he whispered to them that Umjaba was following
him unarmed, and hurried on to a hut at the further side of the
inclosure, which he quickly entered, and wherein he took care to remain
until after the tragedy so soon to be enacted outside should be
finished.
Umjaba had no sooner entered than he was seized and secured by Nokahlela
and his sons (six in all) who took him outside the gate, and at once
inflicted on him the usual punishment awarded to _abatagati_, driving
the pointed sticks right up into his bowels. He was then carried back
and placed on the ground near his own kraal, where he was found the next
morning by his family. As I have said, information was given to the
authorities, and according to instruction I made my first visit to the
spot early next day, where we found Umjaba apparently quite sensible,
but who obstinately refused to give any information that would throw any
light upon the matter. On my second visit, as I have already mentioned,
I found the hapless Umjaba a corpse. On making a post-mortem examination
I discovered and removed three pointed sticks, each at least a foot in
length, which had been driven through the lower part of his body, right
into the bowels, out of view, and the agony of which, although it must
have been almost insufferable, he had possessed the stoicism to conceal.
Suspicion, however, fell upon the family of Nokahlela, and they were all
arrested, together with the doctor, Kongota; when the servant of the
doctor, who had himself taken no part in the affair, gave information
against the others, which resulted in the conviction of Nokahlela, his
five sons, and last, but not least, doctor Kongota himself, and they
were all sentenced to death. The doctor, Nokahlela and his eldest son
were hanged, and the others were imprisoned for a long term of years,
the sentences of death passed upon them being commuted by the governor.
There was for a long time great difficulty in getting evidence in this
case. This was caused by the doctor having administered a dose of the
already-mentioned spinach seed to every one in Nokahlela’s kraal who
knew anything about the matter, telling them after they had swallowed
the medicine that if ever they opened their mouths to say anything to
any of the authorities concerning what they knew, they would surely that
moment die. This kept them all quiet for a long while, until the
doctor’s servant, who perhaps from his familiarity with the doctor had
less faith in the potency of his medicines, told the _Induna_[11] of the
magistrate’s court that he would tell if he were not afraid of dying.
N-capai, the “induna,” assured him that he had nothing to fear from the
doctor’s medicine, though he had everything to fear from the law if he
concealed from the authorities anything with which he ought to acquaint
them. He then made a clean breast of everything, and thus revealed the
whole plot.
Umjaba, though he lived more than thirty hours after receiving these
dreadful injuries, maintained silence to the last upon the whole matter.
I suppose he considered that he had been rightly served for what he had
attempted to do, and that there was no use in saying anything about the
affair; but it always seemed to me a pity that Nokahlela and his eldest
son suffered the extreme penalty of the law, as they were simply dupes
in the hands of the doctor, and acted according to Kafir custom. The
doctor justly met his fate.
This story in “real life” illustrates the power which witchcraft still
exercises among the natives, and the vast field that yet lies open for
the teaching of the missionary and the civilizing power of the white
man.
During the six years I was in the Natal government service I had many
other opportunities afforded me of observing the effects of native
customs; but I will not tire my readers with more of these stories, as
they serve but to further illustrate the effects of superstition
ingrafted on ignorance.
Bishop Calloway, the greatest authority now living on the Zulu language,
twenty years ago interested himself in collecting the “folk-lore”
current among the Zulus, and endeavored to save from oblivion the
popular traditions, religious legends and superstitions of that people,
and “not to leave our children,” as he says, “to mourn, as our ancestors
have left us, that the people have died away and the language become
confined to a few mountain fastnesses or a few old men and women before
we have gathered up what might be known of their past.” His collection
of nursery tales (_Izniganekwane_) and the tradition of creation
(_Ukulunkulu_) are exceedingly interesting to any student of “folk-lore”
literature, the precision and exactness of the language showing that the
Zulu is the highly elaborated language of a people at once
superstitious, grave and clever, pastoral and agricultural; and also
that the language is one in which thoughts and ideas on any subject can
be clearly expressed.
[Illustration]