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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76362 ***





AFRICANA.

A. KING AND CO., PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY.




[Illustration: I—_Frontis._

THE POSTMAN.

“Literature is likely to be an important means of elevating and purifying
the native. All Africans, from the lad that writes his Grammar exercise
to the postman that conveys a written message in a split wand, have a
liking for _kalata_ (letters).”—Vol. II., p. 261.]




                                 AFRICANA;
                                    OR,
                       THE HEART OF HEATHEN AFRICA.

                                  BY THE
                     REV. DUFF MACDONALD, M.A., B.D.,
  LATE OF THE CHURCH OF SCOTLAND MISSION, BLANTYRE, EAST CENTRAL AFRICA.

                    VOL. I.—NATIVE CUSTOMS AND BELIEFS.

                   “The proper study of mankind is man.”

                      LONDON: SIMPKIN MARSHALL & CO.
                       EDINBURGH: JOHN MENZIES & CO.
                         ABERDEEN: A. BROWN & CO.
                                   1882.

                         [_All rights reserved._]




                                    TO
                                 H. H. M.
                          THIS WORK IS INSCRIBED
                             IN REMEMBRANCE OF
                   THE GREATEST TRIALS PATIENTLY ENDURED
                          FOR THE GOOD OF AFRICA.




PREFACE.


Heathen Africa is a wide world, but not so wide as might at first sight
appear. A large part of the continent has been reached by Mahommedanism,
and Christian Missions are everywhere making bold inroads, so that the
portion of Africa left entirely to the light of nature is less than is
often supposed.

My main object is to contribute to a better understanding of the African
heathen, and the reader acquainted with books on the “dark continent”
will perceive that the greater part of the information given in these
pages is entirely new. My knowledge was gained while I worked in the
African Mission field. Unfortunately I arrived at the scene of my labours
to find that the Directors of the Mission had set up a peculiar Civil
Administration which, as might have been expected, soon gave rise to
great difficulties. Hence, although I was labouring with increasing
success, and daily gaining the confidence of the natives, I was suddenly
recalled by the Directors.[1] Although no longer privileged to labour in
Africa, I have still the deepest sympathy with its people, and am led
to publish these volumes in the hope of stimulating Christians to more
hearty endeavours in behalf of this dark land.

A knowledge of these Africans is interesting for its own sake. Besides,
we cannot believe that God has maintained such multitudes of human beings
for so many generations without our being able to learn lessons from them.

It is only when one has had an opportunity of understanding these races
for himself, that he knows how much they require the help of Christendom.
While from that dark land Christians hear the words, “Come over and
help us,” seldom do they realize how urgent is the call. That call is
associated with the shrieks of the helpless slave who is sacrificed at
the tomb of his oppressor, with the last cries of a fond mother poisoned
by a superstitious son, and with the sighing of a wife torn from the home
of her affection and compelled to drag out a miserable captivity among
men whose hands are red with the blood of her kindred. When labouring
in Africa, often have I been asked to explain why I was “so long in
coming” when I knew that its people were living in darkness, and such a
question every Pioneer Missionary may expect to face. I cannot express
the feelings of many a heathen African more touchingly and at the same
time more truly than by quoting the following which comes from Mr. Gill,
a Missionary in the South Sea Islands:—

“At one of the fellowship meetings which the native Christians of the
South Sea Islands had among themselves, an old man rose and said, ‘I
stand among you to-day a solitary and lonely man. Once I had a wife: dear
she was to my heart; she is no more. Once I had five noble sons; they are
all gone. O that terrible night, when my wife went out to the brushwood,
never to return, when my boys left my home to be slain by our deadly
enemies!’ He paused, and there was a deep silence; the tears rolled down
his cheeks. ‘These things do not occur now,’ he again said; ‘Christianity
has put an end to these bloody wars. But there is one thing I want to
ask, Can it be that the Christian people in England have had this Gospel
of peace for many long years, and never sent it to us until now? O that
they had sent it sooner! Had they sent it sooner, I should not be to-day
solitary, sad-hearted, mourning my murdered wife and children. O that
they had sent it _sooner_!’”

As Missions to solitary stations among aboriginal tribes require to be
conducted in a careful and well-defined manner, I have pointed out many
difficulties by which the success of such enterprises is liable to be
impaired.

With reference to the assumption of Civil Jurisdiction, which brought
one or two East African Missions under public notice, I have said little
except where any incident illustrated Mission difficulties or African
customs, and on this subject I must refer the reader to Missionary
Magazines—in particular the _Missionary Review_ for 1882. But lest I
should appear indifferent on the matter, I may, without obtruding the
subject, introduce one or two remarks calculated to benefit the youthful
Missionary. Such a man is generally full of zeal and enthusiasm, and the
last thing in the world that he fears is the danger of being confronted
with misrepresentation or doubtful diplomacy. But such a danger is
possible—it is one thing to go to the heat as the servant of the Lord,
and quite a different thing to go as the agent of a Committee. While
Mission Directors incur some risk by setting up a Civil Jurisdiction, the
real danger falls upon the agents they employ. If any of these agents
say, “I am here commanded to act as a judge or a chief, I am perfectly
aware this is a difficult task, but I am bound to do my best to obey,”
he soon finds he is greatly blamed: and, on the other hand, when a man
reasons, “My superiors have set up a strange organisation here. But
these men are the great Leaders of the Church. They have been studying
Missionary methods before I was born. I have no doubt they understand
their plan. But I cannot understand it: I must leave it entirely alone
and devote all my attention to Spiritual work,”—condemnation as certainly
follows.

Again, when an ordained Minister becomes a Missionary, he is held to lay
aside his ministerial _status_ and become the agent of a committee, while
a Licentiate who is set apart for work among the heathen is “ordained”
in the same sense as a beadle may be said to be ordained—he may talk of
“magnifying his office,” but he holds it only during the pleasure of a
committee who, after he has performed his duties most diligently, may
with the greatest complacency, turn him forth to starve!

Such are some of the difficulties that are thoughtlessly thrown in the
way of Mission work.

There is, however, a more pleasant side to contemplate. I desire to
say with emphasis:—“Savage tribes are _not_ difficult to get on with,
Heathendom is _not_ an unpromising field,” and such is the experience, I
think, of all Missionaries as they go forward, believing that “He shall
have the heathen for His heritage, and the uttermost parts of the earth
for His possession!”

I have pleasure in acknowledging that for several of the illustrations I
am indebted to the courtesy of the Rev. H. Rowley, the talented author of
the Story of the Universities’ Mission to Central Africa.




CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

N.B.—_The figures and letters in brackets refer to the sections (and not
to the pages)._


                                                                      PAGE

                              INTRODUCTORY.

    Novelty of the Subject. Effect of Christianity. Difficulty and
    value of the investigation,                                       1-14

                      CHAPTER I.—FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

    (A) Dress, Tatoos, Ornaments. (B) Weapons. (C) Houses,
    Beds, Fireplace, Furniture, Live Stock. (D) Climate, Rains,
    Productions, Famines. (E) Food, Want of Bread, Meals, Unclean
    Animals, Hospitality. (F) Work, Division of Labour. (F)* Races
    and Chiefs. (G) Travelling and Salutations,                      15-35

                    CHAPTER II.—ARTS AND LITERATURE.

    (H) Trades and Manufactures, Iron, Baskets, Cloth, Pottery,
    African Industry. (I) The Learned Professions, Medicine,
    Divination. (K) Charms. (L) Traditional Literature—its Form,
    Matter, and Relations to Kindred Traditions,                     36-57

                      CHAPTER III.—NATIVE THEOLOGY.

    (1) Nature of man. (2) Immortality. (3-6) The Gods, their
    Dwelling Place, their Manifestations; Distinctions. (7, 8)
    Priests, Village Gods. (9, 10) Polytheism, Selection of Gods.
    (11, 12) Special Deities, Pathos of Native Theology. (13) The
    Creation,                                                        58-75

                       CHAPTER IV.—NATIVE WORSHIP.

    OCCASIONS FOR OFFERINGS. _Journey, War or Hunting._ (14)
    Oracles. (15) Ceremonies. (16, 17) Omens. (18) Rejoicings.
    (19) _Sickness._ (20) _Famine_, _Dreams_. NATURE OF OFFERINGS.
    (21-24) Ordinary Offerings. (25-28) Special Offerings, Human
    Sacrifices,                                                      76-97

                            CHAPTER V.—DEATH.

    (29) Summary. (30) Illness, Physician’s Responsibility. (31)
    Death, Slaves caught to escort the deceased. (32-38) Mourning
    Ceremonies. (39) Immolation of human beings. (40) House of
    deceased taken down. (41) Position of the deceased in the
    other world. (42, 43) Continuation and end of mourning,         98-112

                    CHAPTER VI.—CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.

    (45-47) Birth, Early Days, Naming. (48-51) Betrothal, Early
    Training, Amusements, Games,                                   113-124

                         CHAPTER VII.—MYSTERIES.

    (52, 53) Instruction of Girls, Boys, Adults; General remarks,  125-132

                         CHAPTER VIII.—MARRIAGE.

    (54) Procuring a Wife. (55) Ranks among Wives. (56) Adult
    Marriage, Wedding-day. (57) Woman’s Kingdom. (58) Marriage
    Contract. (59) Divorce. (60) The Wife’s Surety,                133-143

                        CHAPTER IX.—SOCIAL LIFE.

    (61-63) Native Villages. (64-66) Ordinary Life and Work. (67)
    Food in common,                                                144-151

          CHAPTER X.—GOVERNMENT AND ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE.

    (68-72) Headmen and Chiefs. (73-76) Courts of Justice, Trials,
    and General Treatment of Crime,                                152-164

                      CHAPTER XI.—PERSONAL RIGHTS.

    (77) Slavery. (78-81) Murder and Homicide. (82) Unchastity,
                                                                   165-174

                    CHAPTER XII.—RIGHTS OF PROPERTY.

    (83-91) Public Property, Land, &c. (92) Private Property.
    (93) Usury. (94) Petty Theft. (95) Theft and Robbery. (96)
    Miscellaneous Crimes,                                          175-186

            CHAPTER XIII.—INHERITANCE AND INTERNATIONAL LAW.

    (97, 98) Succession to Property and Titles. (99-101)
    International Law and War,                                     187-195

                    CHAPTER XIV.—A SLAVE GOVERNMENT.

    (102, 103) The Magololo and their Rule. (104) Cruelties of a
    Slave Government,                                              196-203

                         CHAPTER XV.—WITCHCRAFT.

    (105) The Poisoned Cup. (106) Witchcraft the cause of Death.
    (107) Detection and Punishment of Witches, Divination,         204-214

                         CHAPTER XVI.—ETHNOLOGY.

    Ethnological Method, Tribal Customs, East Central Africa,
    South Africa, West and North Africa, Races of Antiquity,       215-234

                    CHAPTER XVII.—AFRICAN PHILOLOGY.

    A Philosophical Language. Vocabulary, number and nature of
    African Words. Grammar, as compared with that of the Aryan
    and Semitic Tongues,                                           235-245

              CHAPTER XVIII.—AFRICAN PHILOLOGY—_Continued._

    Imitation of Sounds and Speech. The _Polyglotta Africana_.
    Specialties in African Tongues,                                246-257

               CHAPTER XIX.—ESTIMATE OF NATIVE CHARACTER.

    _Physical_: Features, Figures, Powers of Endurance. _Moral_:
    Truthfulness, Avarice. _Intellectual_: Native Oratory. Effect
    of their circumstances on Character. Docility in Religion,
                                                                   258-276

    APPENDIX.—COSMOLOGICAL TALES.                                  277-301




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

VOL. I.


    The Letter Carrier,        _Frontispiece_

    South African making fire,            12

    Liberated Slaves—Blantyre,            15

    The Supelele,                         17

    Native Knives and Arrows,             19

    Native Pipes and Pottery,             40

    Natives in the African jungle,       176

    Women of West Central Africa,        226

    Native Musical Instrument,           272




INTRODUCTORY.




INTRODUCTORY.


There are no books, so far as we are aware, that aim at giving a
systematic account of the beliefs and customs of any of the tribes in
Eastern Central Africa. Indeed, it is not long since these tribes have
been known at all. Those beliefs and customs are to a great extent
_Arcana Africana_, and form the main subject of this work.

Those that know how long it takes to become thoroughly acquainted with
new races of people will object to a work like this appearing so soon. To
this objection we would reply that, after a Christian Mission has been
established for a few years in a district, the views of the people around
may become so modified, especially on religion, that it is difficult
to distinguish how much is native and how much is imported. This is
specially true of these Africans. They rapidly throw aside everything
that is native, and grasp after the views and customs introduced by the
foreigner. Even as it was, we often got answers that seemed to be an echo
of our teaching, but we made a point of rejecting every statement of this
kind. The reader may rest assured that we have here put before him no
religious belief that was suggested or modified by Christian teaching.

Again, there are some that think it is not possible to give an account
of native beliefs and customs, because they differ so much in different
districts. The same objection might be raised with reference to English
beliefs and customs. A man that wished to give an account of the
Religious beliefs of the people of England, would find that he had
undertaken a difficult task, but such an account, so far from being
impossible, might be made not only perfectly accurate, but also highly
interesting and profitable.

So in the case of Native Law. We have seen the natives settle their
disputes in methods so many and so different, that we might have said
“There is no such thing as Native Law”. Might not the very same opinion
be expressed with reference to English Law?

As we tried to reduce Native beliefs to an intelligible form, we were
often discouraged by finding that one man would make a statement that his
nearest neighbour would contradict. But as years passed on, I discovered
that this accident was not so much the fault of the African, or of his
belief, as of the European that questioned him. In many respects there is
a greater fixity of belief in Central Africa than in England, although
it may be freely admitted that these African customs are subject to
many modifications due to local ingenuity and caprice. On the subject
of Native Law the reader is ever at liberty to read between the lines
that _our statements may be often modified_ by a maxim which is but ill
concealed in Native Jurisprudence _by the maxim, “that might is right”_.


DIFFICULTIES.

There are enormous difficulties to overcome before we can be sure that
our statements are correct. We once knew a man of good abilities try to
get information on a small section of native customs, and the result
was in wonderful disagreement with facts. We were so tickled at the
production that we went to our friend’s informer and read over the
expressions one by one, half inclined to ask regarding each “Would you be
surprised to learn?” In most cases he was very much surprised indeed! The
causes of error are so numerous and subtle as to deserve extended notice.


IMPORTING EUROPEAN IDEAS.

One cause of error is that we mix up what the African tells us with our
own ideas, which are European. As a consequence of this, we put questions
to him that he cannot understand. Many of our questions strike the
African exactly as a question like the following would strike a European,
“If seventy miles of the sea were burned, who would be the losers, the
Insurance Companies? or the Harbour Commissioners? or ——?” If an African
put this question to a European the European would laugh at him; but
if the European put it to an African, the latter would be more polite,
and would think that the European was very ingenious in finding out a
supposition that would have never occurred to himself; and although the
African knows that the difficulty could never arise in his own country,
yet he feels bound to believe that the poor European is perplexed by
it, and states what he thinks _would happen_ in Africa on such an
extraordinary occurrence: thus _he gives an answer_, which the ingenious
European carefully lays past.

For instance, a person that had never been out of England would see
nothing amiss in asking a Makua or a Machinga, “If a dog were to tear
your trousers and your housemaid were to mend them, how much would you
give her in addition to her ordinary wages?” Now the native will not
say “We wear no trousers,” “Women in our country never sew,” “No one
receives wages in our country for domestic service,” “Special services
are not defined, and if they were, the duties of a housemaid would not be
anything like what they are in England”. Instead of making statements of
this kind, which would all be interesting to his questioner, the African
will take up the question as it stands, he will consider that it is quite
worthy of the genius of a European, and will probably answer that the
housemaid would get “two fowls, one hoe, and a string of beads!” And
he may reply without the least hesitation; for if he be a professional
oracle-man, remember he has been trained all his lifetime to answer
hypothetical questions. He would reason that if a man possessed trousers,
and servants, yea, a female that obtained wages and had been taught to
sew, he ought to give her some handsome present for what she did beyond
her ordinary duties, and then our oracle would state what was his idea
of a handsome present. His answer is utterly misleading, but he deserves
credit for his polite attempt to humour the European, who forthwith
translates the answer into pounds, shillings, and pence!

Another cause of error is found in


NATIVE POLITENESS.

One evening I questioned a professional judge on a point of native law;
he replied by stating what was entirely untrue; when I pointed this
out he merely laughed at the circumstance; he thought he had invented
something that would appear better to a foreigner. He reminded me of
a Scotch guide who kept telling what was false, because the Southerns
all liked to hear that some “old king was killed beside the great big
stane”. Bishop Steere says—“In Africa they never say _no_, they always
say _yes, certainly_; but possibly you are no nearer your object”. One
must be careful never to _suggest_ an answer to a native; if the native
and his questioner are strangers to each other the former will make it a
point of etiquette to find out what answer the stranger would like, and
may by and by take occasion to compliment him on his cleverness and the
accuracy of his knowledge! Statements made in answer to direct questions
are not to be relied on unless the questioner has had years of experience
in conversation with natives, and knows the subject he converses about.
What is arrived at in an indirect manner is almost always more valuable.
I lay down these principles as to native evidence with some confidence,
as I have tried them in hundreds of cases, especially in endeavours to
fix the exact meaning of native words. One statement where the word
occurred spontaneously was worth ten statements contrived for the purpose
of eliminating the meaning.

In my first efforts to learn African languages I found that a great deal
of what was said to me, especially by interpreters, was quite useless,
simply because the poor fellows were trying to adapt their language to a
European capacity!


NATIVE IDIOMS.

When one attempts to obtain information through interpreters, without
knowing anything of their peculiar idioms, he is liable to the strangest
blunders. Those that try to speak with him carry their African idioms
into English. Natives have great difficulty in knowing the difference
between _before_ and _after_. Boys that have been writing English essays
for more than a year, think nothing of writing deliberately about what
men did on the earth _before_ they were created. There is another idiom
still more fitted to produce confusion, and when an Englishman writes
down in a multitude of instances what is the reverse of the truth we are
often able to point out the cause. He puts to a native the question, “He
did not go, did he?” The native replies “_Yes_,” where an Englishman
would say “No”. Consequently every question put in this form will be
answered in a manner that cannot fail to mislead. In the same way natives
confound the active and the passive voice in verbs.


DISTRACTING CIRCUMSTANCES.

Even after one has become familiar with some of their idioms he cannot
trust to all the information that he supposes himself to acquire. I
had begun to hold conversations with the natives, in their own tongue,
about six weeks after my arrival, and I well remember that I often got
information exactly similar to what Mr Pickwick got from his cabman.
When a native sees a person noting down anything, he makes up his mind
to say something worth noting! So much did I feel this that at one time
I endeavoured to keep my book out of sight. While they were unaccustomed
to it, it introduced into the conversation an element that was very
unnatural. One plan I took was to have a pencil in my hand which I
pretended to be playing with. I thus got down some new words upon my
thumb-nail, and was beginning to congratulate myself on the success of
my stratagem. After I sat for about ten minutes another man approached
our group, when my friends hailed him in these words, “Come here and
talk with the white man. He is writing on his fingers. He has written
three new things already!” After this I saw that such a trick was quite
useless. Not only had they seen it all, but they could tell how many
words I had written. Great was the laughter that followed, and the new
comer examined the guilty thumb-nail!


ROMANTIC INFORMATION.

I sometimes got romantic information that I was sorry at a later date
to have to put my pen through. Thus with reference to the High Priest
of a new government (98), I gathered from one man that the first person
_seen_ by the chief after his installation became the High Priest of his
government. I had carefully noted down that a little _boy_ playing in the
village found his way to the house of one important chief on the morning
after his installation, and was the first to see His Royal Highness; for
whom, as a matter of fact, he now officiates as sacrificer, &c. Then,
_having taken up_ this meaning of the incident, I was farther informed
that the chief made a note of the first _five_ people that he saw in
case of the death of any; and my informer was eager to know who was the
first man that I saw after coming to Blantyre. Subsequent information
threw discredit on the beautiful story. But the peculiar thing was that I
found long afterwards another native make the very same statements. This
referred me back to my old notes. All I could say about it was that the
word I had translated _see_ meant also _find_, that a _boy_ might be over
50 years for anything that the native word indicated, and that it was not
clear from my text whether the chief was _seen_ by the boy or the boy by
the chief.

Much of what we have written was not made the subject of special
investigation, except where we found any doubt arise or any verification
necessary. Our special object was to obtain such an accurate knowledge
of the language as would enable us to give a good translation of the
Bible. Most of the knowledge gradually grew upon us as we mingled with
the natives, and for the purpose of translation attended closely to every
word that we heard.

Other parts, especially those that refer to religion, were the subject of
special inquiry. It is walking in the dark for a missionary to endeavour
to appeal either to the feelings or to the reason of a people whose
prejudices and beliefs are unknown to him, and how he is to convince them
without appeals to their feelings or their reason I cannot tell. I would
have given much to have had an account of those beliefs put into my own
hands when I left for Africa.

I have tried to make all my statements as accurate as possible, but it
would be too much to expect that in such a difficult investigation I
should have escaped the influence of these many and subtle sources of
error.


THE VALUE OF STUDYING NATIVE CUSTOMS AND BELIEFS.

What is the use of minute investigations among the ignorant heathen of
Central Africa? We reply that such investigations throw light on many
points that men of science consider to be of great importance.

To take a few instances:—


I. IN THE SCIENCE OF THE HUMAN MIND.


(A) THE SENSES.

Some speak as if men were made at first with the power of perceiving only
a few colours, for instance, black and white, and that by and by they
trained themselves to perceive brown. One argument advanced in favour of
this view is that many native languages have words for black and white,
but no word for brown. Now I knew several languages where the natives
called brown and black by the same word; but they knew that there was
a great difference between brown and black. I found that they could
discriminate every shade of colour that I could discriminate myself.


(B) THE INTELLECT.

Many facts that I shall lay before the reader will seem so strange that
he may doubt whether these savages have the same minds as Europeans,
whether they reason or think in the same way at all. It is true, however,
that after one places himself in their circumstances, and tries to see
and feel as they do, he will understand all their strangeness; he will
even see that it would have been still more strange if their reasonings
and conclusions had been different.


(C) THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS.

Have we in Europe so developed ourselves as to become possessors of
emotions that are entirely wanting in savage Africa?

We have what is called gratitude: have these heathen? Without any
hesitation I answer that they have, and that even though we define
gratitude as being much more than “an acute sense of favours to come”.

Again we have pity. A stranger might think that they were destitute of
this. I have said to a boy, “Don’t carry that fowl so, you give it pain”.
At this he would laugh. It would become the standing joke for a day or
two. Everyone would be told that the Englishman said that “the fowl
would be sore”. A whole village would collect at the strange report and
receive the news with loud laughter. Yet all would admit that it was a
cruel thing to pain the fowl; but they did not reflect that their method
of carrying the fowl gave it pain. They were used to their own way, and
thought no more of the matter than a butcher does of killing an ox. At
the same time they have fables in their language, which show a desire to
enter minutely into the feelings of the lower animals. For instance, they
represent fowls as reasoning on their hard fate in being killed for their
master’s supper.


(D) MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

It has long been disputed whether men have a “Conscience” that
distinguishes between right and wrong; or whether they merely look at
certain actions that please or profit them, and call these actions good
and the opposite actions bad.

Savages have been referred to on this subject. We have found that they
distinguish the good from the evil in the same way as Europeans do, and
usually agree with our conclusions. They know the difference between an
injury of accident and one of intention. As to the moral judgment, “A man
_ought_ to do such a thing,” “It is his _duty_,” we find this lesson is
brought home to slaves or inferiors by positive law. In others there are
aspirations more akin to the exuberant activities and bright dreams of
youth. They would rather ask, “How can we do best?” as did the Ancients
who talked of a _summum bonum_. As the spirit of the world became
older and sadder this view gave place, and the idea of “duty” was more
emphasised by moralists. Spirited Africans savour more of the Golden Age
of Moral Science.

It is to be remembered that appeals to savage nations form only a part of
scientific investigations like the above.


II. IN ETHNOLOGY.

On looking at the many different races that inhabit the earth, some say
that they did not all spring from the same stock, others that they did.
If we say that they are all of one family we should try to show how some
broke away from the rest, and at what time. Now let us make a supposition
to show how the _customs_ of races might come in here.

[Illustration: SOUTH AFRICAN MAKING FIRE.]

In LIGHTING A FIRE some tribes rub a stick along a groove; other tribes
have an improvement on this, they produce fire by making a little
notch or hole in one stick, and whirling the other round very rapidly
with the point of it in the notch. Now we may hold that before mankind
discovered the second method, many nations, like the South Sea Islanders,
who knew only the first, had broken up communication with the rest of
their kindred; but that the Africans who use the improved method had
likely been with the main body of mankind till the time of this great
improvement.

Again, take the case of COOKING. Some tribes have no pots. They boil
water by throwing hot stones into a skin. They must have separated very
early from their more cultivated brethren. Others waited till some one
fell on the plan of boiling water in a hollow stone. Others waited on
till it was discovered that clay could be shaped into a kind of pot, and
then carried this important discovery to the land of their adoption.
Boiling with hot stones was the only way known to certain American,
Australian, and Polynesian tribes; some tribes in Africa also used this
method. The Esquimaux had pot-stones. It seems to have been the daubing
of these with clay that first suggested pottery.

I have taken down traditions from African natives that point to some
recollection of the hollow stone, used either by themselves or some other
race; but the tribes here treated of know the value of clay pots. Of
course they are far behind the Indians, who have metal pots.

With regard to THE CAUSE OF DISEASE there existed a widespread belief
(held by many tribes in America and Australia, as also by these Africans)
that disease came from bones, horns, balls of hair or something of this
kind. The ancient Egyptians at a very early date considered that disease
was to a great extent caused by excess of eating. The inference is that
these tribes had not staid long enough to benefit by this wisdom of the
Egyptians.

Other peculiar customs are spread over many tribes, and might be used
in a similar manner. Many of these are observances in FAMILY LIFE. Among
the Kaffirs a son-in-law must not see the face of his mother-in-law. This
custom is found among South American tribes. Sometimes a father has to
fast after the birth of his child, or take some such method of showing
that he recognises that he as well as the mother should take care of the
young stranger.

When races are found knowing nothing of the art of writing, and making
no attempt to use stone or bricks for building, we feel that a wide gulf
separates them from the most ancient races of history. Of course it is
to be remembered that they might have once been aware of such arts. Many
Africans, as a matter of fact, have seen Portuguese architecture for
centuries without adopting it.


III. IN THE SCIENCE OF RELIGION.

A position has often been maintained that there is no tribe without some
knowledge of God. This bears on investigations in the science of mind
and on primitive traditions and ethnology. We do not now dwell on native
religion, as it will claim special attention in subsequent chapters.

Besides throwing light on many subjects like the above, a knowledge of
tribal beliefs and customs is of vital importance to the missionary and
also to the trader. Indeed, any attempt to deal with people without
knowing their customs and beliefs is a mere groping in the dark.

[Illustration: LIBERATED SLAVE-WOMAN, BLANTYRE.

(_Photographed in ordinary Costume._)]

[Illustration: LIBERATED SLAVE-GIRL, BLANTYRE.

(_Trained to Household Work._)]




CHAPTER I.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS.


A.—DRESS, TATOOS, ORNAMENTS, &C.

The _dress_ of the native is very scanty: sometimes we see full-grown
men and women whose wardrobe does not consist of a square foot of cloth.
We have even seen the primitive fig-leaves not sewn together, but simply
taken down for use, along with the tip of the branches on which they
grew. One tribe, called the Mangoni, is fond of wearing skins. Other
tribes towards the north of Lake Nyassa are still more primitive in
their dress, or rather want of dress. The usual costume in the Blantyre
district is a piece of calico about two yards broad, and rather longer,
which is put round the middle of the body: the dress of a man does not
differ from that of a woman, except that the latter may occasionally
cover her breasts. The breasts and arms are usually left quite bare.
There is no hat on the head, nor shoes on the feet. When we tried to
translate the words, “If any man sue thee at the law and take away thy
coat, let him have thy cloak also,” we found a difficulty, for if a
native were stripped of _one_ garment, he would generally be left in a
very helpless condition.

The chiefs, or principal men, dress as the rest of the people, only
they may have a few more folds of calico about their loins. In certain
families, as in the Abanda family of the Wayao tribe, the chief of the
district, or of a village, wears a band of cloth round his temples as a
kind of crown. Before the arrival of the missionaries, shirts, although
very rare, were not entirely unknown, and there existed a belief that
while men might wear them, they were not the proper thing for women. Bark
cloth (H) is extensively made and worn.

The _tatoos_ (nembo) are sometimes dreadful inflictions, and when the
larger marks are made the children roar as if they were distracted.
The Angulu have marks like “flies,” the Wayao tribal mark is above the
nose, the Anyasa make very large rude tatoos, which might be described
in those words that Henry Salt, the Abyssinian traveller (1814), uses
with reference to the Makua, a tribe not far distant, and much spoken of
by the Wayao, under the name of Makuani. “The Makua practise tatooing
so rudely that they raise the marks one-eighth of an inch above the
surface.” He writes also:—“They file their teeth to a point, so that the
whole set has the appearance of a coarse saw”. The natives here are fond
of knocking out a front tooth in order to produce a beauty mark.

_Ornaments_ are worn chiefly by the women in Africa as elsewhere. Beads
and bangles are in great request. Many have armlets and anklets of brass
or iron. The most striking female ornament is the lip ring. Little girls
have first a small hole (lupelele) bored in the upper lip, in this they
place a stalk of grass, which prevents the hole from filling up, next
they insert a thicker stalk of grass, then by means of bits of twigs,
&c., the hole is made larger and larger, till it can receive this ring.
Hardly any female is without it. They say it makes them look “pretty”;
the bigger the ring, the more they value themselves! At Zomba, a small
hole is bored on the side of the nose, and a tack (exactly similar to
those large headed tacks or “tackets” used in the sole of a boot), is put
in. This tack, _chipini_, is made of lead; some of the ladies used to
express much surprise when I showed them that it would write on my book.

[Illustration: NATIVE WOMAN WITH BEADS, TATOOS AND LIP-RING.]

Occasionally, a woman will wear an enormous wig made of beads. The beads
are so manipulated as to present the appearance of having been “threaded”
on the hair of the head. Some females do actually thread beads on the
separate hairs of their head, but the usual way is to put them on a
cluster of strings, and then wear like a wig. Sometimes they allow their
hair to grow till it is very long—it may be sticking up about 8 inches
above the head—and then it looks exactly like the fleece of a black
sheep. But this is unusual, as the natives are obliged, for the sake of
cleanliness, to shave their heads often. The men have scarcely any beard
or whiskers. On the shaving of the head for a death (40), not even the
eyebrows are allowed to escape. There is no end of capricious shaving,
for instance, they shave one side only, or the whole head except a patch
in the middle.

CHARMS (_mbiji_) are very often worn round the neck by both sexes. These
are little pieces of wood like what fill the gourds of the Sorcerers
(I). They are worn on a small string in the same way as beads.

We may mention here that great quantities of beads are worn round the
loins in strings as thick as cart ropes. When a person is from home
and wishes to buy anything, he falls back upon this portion of his
property which is really his “purse”. Besides this, a native carries a
bag (msaku), which may contain a box with lime (swakala), which he uses
in chewing tobacco: a snuff box is also common. Ladies partake of these
“regales” to a less extent.

[Illustration: NATIVE KNIVES AND ARROWS.]


B.—WEAPONS.

The men go armed generally with guns. (The country is full of flint
muskets marked the “Tower,” and introduced by the slave trade.) Often
they carry their _bows_ with half-a-dozen arrows. They never go unarmed.
One chief used to be fond of carrying a large _spear_, which served as
a kind of staff. Most of them carry knives as well. These weapons are
necessary for protection against beasts of prey and other enemies, and
may be used where game is seen. The Mangoni carry a shield like the Zulus.

On coming down from the Lake region to the Portuguese settlements at
Quilimane, one of the first things that strikes us is, that natives under
the Portuguese Government go about without carrying any deadly weapon.
On the hills round Blantyre, a man scarcely sits down to sew his wives’
calico in his own village without having his bow and arrows by his side.

They do not seem to be expert marksmen; but they were able to send their
arrows very much farther than I could do, let me try never so hard. They
were fond of asking us to competitions of this nature. One time Kumpama
of Cherasulo challenged us to a shooting match—his arrows against our
guns! They allowed us, however, to stand too far back, and the arrows of
his bowmen fell short of the target. Little boys are to be seen using
their arrows from their earliest years, and they shoot small birds very
cleverly.

They use the assagai, but more for thrusting than for throwing. Apart
from war, chances for its use occur when they steal upon a buck before
he awakes. A large broad spear is used in killing fish.

Some carry knob-sticks, or staves of a similar nature. They are useful
for shaking the dew or rain off the long grass, as well as for defensive
purposes. Little axes of various kinds are carried in the hand; they
may be borne as credentials where a chief has to send by an unknown
messenger. The usual African axes are said to resemble those used in
Britain in the Roman period.


C.—HOUSES.

The houses, or huts (nyumba) in which they dwell, are all round. It is
misleading to say that they dwell in them, as they scarcely enter them,
except to sleep, or when driven by bad weather. Sometimes the women boil
a pot inside the house, but often the cooking is done outside; all the
meals are eaten outside. When the head of a house has any sewing to do,
he does it on a mat before his door, or in the village forum. His wife
does not sew, and most of her occupations (57) are necessarily outdoor.
“A house,” says the native, “is made to sleep in.”

The walls form a circle—say about twelve feet in diameter—and are made
of strong posts, sometimes close to each other, but generally with
spaces between, where bamboos and grass are brought into requisition.
The framework of the roof is placed upon the top of the circle, and some
thatch is thrown on. The floor and walls are plastered with clay.

Two doors (mlango) are marked out before they plaster, but one of these
is generally shut up, and may even be dispensed with. There are no
windows. The wall is not above 3 feet high, the roof projects so as to
form a small verandah in which a person may sit. Sometimes there are
apertures in the wall calculated to let through the muzzle of a gun.

The houses being occupied chiefly during the night, part of the floor
is often raised for a bedstead. The bed which is merely a mat made of
bamboos or reeds, and is not nearly so soft as an ordinary door-mat or
hearth-rug, is laid on this mound. By the side of the “bedstead” are
placed a few logs of wood which form a fire during the night. The head of
the house lies nearest to this fire, while his partner is placed on his
other side, as he remarks, _away from the fire_. Blankets are unknown.
The cloth that covers the man during the day may be drawn over him at
night. Quite as often he lets it remain round his loins. Occasionally it
seems as if a little flour had been spilt on the ground beside his head.
He will not speak of this to a stranger, but you are on holy ground, and
let me tell you in a whisper that it is an _offering to his gods_.

Candles are not used, the logs that smoulder in the fire give a little
light. They burn beeswax occasionally, and when light is required, a
little dry grass may be readily obtained. The native retires to rest soon
after dark, and is astir at the first streaks of dawn.

The fire is in the middle of the floor, and there are no holes in the
roof as in the old Highlands of Scotland. The houses are without any
chimney whatsoever, and the smoke goes curling about in the roof and
may ultimately escape through the thatch or at the doors. The roof is
beautifully black and glossy inside, but outside it has an ugly brown
appearance.

A European finds it a most inconvenient thing at first to enter a native
hut, the smoke so fills his nose, mouth, and eyes, but when he sits down
to talk to an invalid, the inconvenience is of course less than when he
stands upright; at best the atmosphere resembles a London fog. In native
huts it is sometimes difficult for a man of ordinary stature to stand
upright. The doors of the houses are never over 3 feet high. What pigmies
the natives must be! We have heard a learned professor arguing that the
height of the doors in certain very ancient houses proved that the human
race was not degenerating in stature, but this argument, true in many
cases, would not do here. If the native wants to stand upright, he never
thinks of trying to do so in his doorway.

The roof of his house is generally made a store; he goes up from the
outside, removes part of the thatch, and puts in his corn. Bags of beans
are hung up round and round on the pillars inside. Sometimes there are
one or two pots filled with beans, and hermetically sealed with clay on
the top to preserve such vegetables. There are no fenders or fire-irons
to be seen. Tables are unknown, and chairs are hardly used at all,
although men clever at wood-work make very small chairs of various
forms. Implements of agriculture are stowed away in the house, so are
the cooking utensils, the man’s bow and arrows, the sleeping mat already
mentioned, and—our inventory is complete! Some part of the house may be
occupied by live stock. The fowls are sometimes put up stairs in the
store, and sometimes in a corner so as not to disturb the other members
of the family! But laying-hens (mkolo) and fowls with chickens have very
special privileges, and are not always confined to their corner!

Another item of importance to the inmates of a native house is the rats.
They swarm in all corners after dark. They nibble at the maize that
is stored in the roof, and also at the feet of their lord and master
below. As we sit in conversation with a number of natives we cannot
help observing their feet. Very generally they are all nibbled round
the sides, and, thick though the natives’ skin may be, we can see that
many bites have reached the quick flesh. When a person dies in a house
at night, if the death be unobserved, the body may be terribly eaten by
the rats before morning. What is the meaning of tolerating these vermin?
Leave that to the natives themselves. A great feast day will come. These
rats will be caught in hundreds, and either eaten on the spot or laid up
as stored provisions. Some natives set traps in the house even during
the close season, but this is not nearly so profitable; for if one or
two rats are caught during the night, the others will eat them, and the
fondest expectation of “butcher meat” will be blasted.

After calling attention to the fowls and the rats, we have done with the
live stock. There are indeed “smaller cattle,” but they are too numerous
to be specified. They are not a burden to the house itself, but are
generally borne by the other inmates. We have often seen a native sit
patiently while two or three others kept searching among his hair. A
favourite remedy is to shave the head quite bare, and smear the head and
the whole body with certain vegetable oils.


D.—CLIMATE AND PRODUCTIONS.

The climate strikes us at first as being much too hot, but after a while
we feel it more comfortable. Then we can nearly always anticipate the
weather. It is quite amusing to hear an arrival from England saying “This
is another fine day!” When we meet a man at home, and have nothing to
say, we nearly always call his attention to the state of the weather.
When two natives meet each other the usual salutation is—“Where are you
going?” the weather being so uniform that it may be taken for granted.
The temperature in the shade at the hill settlements was hardly ever over
105° or under 42°, 70° being about the average. On the plains the heat
was excessive.

The rainy season begins about October. We have nearly six weeks of very
hot weather about January without much rain. By and by the sun returns
overhead again, and we have the latter rains. About April the dry season
sets in.

On the productions of the country we may remark that there are fruits
in almost endless variety in the bush, but they are generally very
small, and few of them are so good that we care to taste them twice. The
_masuku_ and _mbembu_ are used very much by the natives. Sugar cane,
tobacco, india-rubber are all to be found growing throughout the country.
The natives chew the stalks of the sugar cane, chew and smoke tobacco,
and relish the apple-like fruit found on the india-rubber vine.

Thrifty housewives make various vegetable dishes (maponda) of leaves and
grasses that a European would be inclined to despise. In the hot season
that precedes the rains sometimes food is very scarce, and then roots and
herbs still less savoury are called into use. Moreover, there are certain
edibles of this kind, which are used only in years of famine. Before the
arrival of the missionaries such famines were exceedingly common, but
they were not all caused by the climate, many were caused by war.

Nature is here so bountiful that, in ordinary circumstances, food is
no object. The only season associated with hunger is a month or two
immediately before the rains. If the rains do not come early, the old
food may be quite finished. As soon as the rains begin, vegetable life
flourishes with such luxuriance that the season of want is immediately
forgotten. Once or twice in travelling during the season when everything
is dried up, we have found a little boy sitting weeping on account of
“hunger,” and the expression “hunger is painful” (_sala kupoteka_)
reminds us that most natives know the fact by experience. Much of this is
due to the tediousness of their cooking. If a party arrive half starving
at a village, it may be several hours before anything can be cooked.
The people do not keep flour on hand, but mill it as it is required for
each meal; and as their meals are at 11 at noon and 6 at night, parties
arriving in the interval must tighten their belts. Native travellers
could easily sympathise with Esau when he sold his birthright.


E.—FOOD AND COOKING.

The cooking is done by the women; but every native is a born cook. When
a buck is shot out in the bush, even little boys will cook it at once.
The staple food at Blantyre is maize; among the Anyasa millet; and at the
mouth of the Shire, rice. Maize and millet are ground into a fine flour
(utandi, ufa), which is made into a kind of porridge (ugali, nsima). This
is eaten without salt, but ought to be accompanied by some relish, as
beans or meat. This porridge takes the place of bread in their meals, as
the natives make no bread. Another way of using maize or millet is in the
native beer (ukana, mowa), the only beverage in common use except water,
which they drink out of the running streams. They drink stagnant water
also. Their method of drinking is peculiar, as they literally throw the
water into the mouth with their hands.

The natives have regularly only two meals a-day, but they may eat maize
stalks or sugar cane or other vegetables from morning till night. There
are often feasts, as on the occasion of hoeing-matches (65), wakes, and
marriage settlements. Beer is used greatly in those cases, and beer
drinkings may be got up also without any special occasion. Sometimes
they last for several days, the last day (lia kusasula) is specially
distinguished for cooking porridge and fowls. Such solid food is not
expected on the other days. There is also singing, dancing, and drumming.
The exercises generally continue the whole night. The parties that do
most to keep up the interest in such dances are paid.

There are no live stock except the small species of fowls and the rats
that we have already mentioned. Some natives keep ducks—Muscovy ducks,
which do not require a pond. Richer people, as village chiefs, possess
goats. The Magololo chiefs have sheep and a few cows.

The Wayao have a superstition against cow’s milk, goat’s milk, and dairy
produce of every kind. (In the same way young people will not eat eggs;
it would make them barren.) They eat hippopotami, elephants, monkeys,
moles, beetles, and even caterpillars. They take kindly to meat that has
begun to putrify. Yet they make a distinction between what animals are
to be eaten and what are not. Any creature that will eat the flesh of a
deceased human being is unclean. It is msawi (106). For instance, while
some eat the raven or kite (likungulu), others protest that it feeds
about the graves.

A person could travel far and wide and trust to native hospitality. If we
arrive at a village at the time that the native is taking his meals we
are invited to partake. A great drawback is that a person not brought up
on native food will be unwilling to risk his health by partaking of their
fare. It cannot be expected that the traveller will fare better than his
host. They soon begin to know people that do not eat freely of native
food, and from motives of politeness they are slow in offering it. If we
pass through a village its inhabitants quietly ask some of our native
retinue whether there is any chance of our tasting the native beer,[2]
and if it be found that the beer will not be refused, the poor creatures
go and search for a cup (if they have one in the whole village). They
judged that, as we were more familiar with cups than with calibashes, the
cup would be the more acceptable. The natives that accompanied us on any
journey were presented with loads of the various fruits of the season.
If one wish to stay all night he will get a house to sleep in. Natives
receive hospitality quite freely, and are prepared when their host comes
to their home to treat him in the same way. When a party from one chief
goes to visit another chief, one of their credentials is a present.

It is a breach of etiquette to eat alone if any one be present. When a
native is at food he shares it with those around him, indeed he goes on
dividing till he has only a mouthful left for himself. Etiquette does not
bind us to partake of their food, but it is a sign of friendship to do so
as far as possible. The natives have no spoons, and Englishmen would burn
their fingers severely in eating porridge in the fashionable manner.


F.—WORK.

The natives go to work at sunrise, and continue until the sun is
overhead. After this their day’s work is finished, and they partake of
their first meal. One reason why the morning meal is so late is that it
would be difficult to have it ready before the people go out to work.
In the afternoon the men sit down and converse. Some do light work, as
sewing, but a great many remain quite idle. The women will be found
pounding maize. They are nearly as strong and tall as the men, perhaps
owing to the heavy work they do. By sunset the second meal is ready.

They have little notion of the division of labour. Natives have not
arrived at such a pitch of education that one of them would spend his
days in making the sixth part of a pin. The little girls from their
earliest years are initiated into all parts of the mysteries of hoeing,
reaping, milling, and cooking. The men are equally ignorant of the
advantages and disadvantages of division of labour. Each man builds
his own house, and makes his own furniture. The only trade that can
maintain a special existence is working in iron—a trade embracing mining,
smelting, and forging. Even in this case most natives know the secrets of
the trade; but to be specially successful they need to obtain a charm.

Agricultural work is the great means of a livelihood. It yields a great
return, for every seed the natives sow they expect to reap hundreds. A
little before the rains they begin to hoe their ground. They first clear
all the trees and wood, which they collect in heaps and burn on the spot.
They use no other manure. When they do work for the English they say they
hoe very slowly, because they are told to hoe deep; but when they hoe
their own land they hoe fast, as a scratch on the surface is considered
sufficient. When the rains come they plant. After the maize grows they
set up the soil round the stems as farmers do with potatoes.

Each house has generally what we might call a garden; but the natives
have no fancy for flowers. The wild flowers in the wood they recognise
as being very pretty; but they laugh at any one that plucks them. They
fancy that a lover of flowers culls them for some charms. The natives
have no word for a garden as distinct from a cultivated field or farm,
but they have often round their houses little beds of tobacco, great
quantities of manioc, and several other useful plants. Indian hemp is
also much cultivated, and is nearly as bad as opium. Near Mazaro opium is
cultivated by a Portuguese Company.


F².—RACES AND CHIEFS.

As we pass out of Portuguese territory we find ourselves in the country
of a chief called Matekenya, on the Lower Shire (Chiri). His people are
the Achikunda. When we reach the Ruwo or Ruo we are perhaps about two
days from Blantyre by land. Here we come to what are called the Magololo,
whose paramount chief is Makukani, although many of the others, as
Katunga and Chiputula, seem to view themselves as independent of him.
Still they say that if he commands they must all follow him to war.
These men though aliens, have established themselves as rulers over the
Anyasa. There is no Magololo tribe here. Passing through these Anyasa we
ascend to Blantyre, where we find ourselves with a chief called Kapeni,
who rules another tribe called the Wayao (Yao), with whom we are best
acquainted.

Then about Zomba, which is other two days farther on, we encounter the
Machinga, who speak practically the same language as the Wayao, and this
language carries us far beyond. Several great chiefs on the east side of
Lake Nyassa are Machinga. Again, when we stand on the south side of Mount
Zomba and look over Lake Chirwa[3] (Shirwa) towards the rising sun we see
mountains that are peopled by the Angulu (or Walolo).

The tradition is that the Anyasa first inhabited the land everywhere
about Zomba; but that the Angulu, who lived at one time on the other side
of the river Lujenda, began to fight the Machinga. The Machinga then went
and encountered the Wayao, who, in turn, pressed on and drove from their
home at Zomba the Anyasa tribe, many of whom now live under the Magololo
on the Lower Shire[3] (Chiri), _i.e._, the Shire below the cataracts.

The Anyasa are also called Anyanja, both words in different languages
of the district mean river- or lake-people. The word Wayao (or Achawa)
suggests a derivation from the personal pronoun. Yao regularly means
“their” (_ipanje yao_ means their property). So the Awa of Achawa is
identical with the personal pronoun. I am inclined to interpret the
name as “The people that hold their own!” until I find something more
satisfactory. The Machinga are really the same tribe, and are called the
“fighting branch of the Yao”. The derivation of their name is in harmony
with this view.

It is instructive to note the descriptions that these tribes give of
other tribes that live at a distance, and are barely known to them. I had
heard such strange particulars about the Makua that I thought they must
be a peculiar people; now so they are, but only just as the Wayao are
peculiar. It was the old story; every race considers itself perfection,
and points to a mote in the eye of a brother race. The language of the
Makua is quite similar to Machinga. I travelled to London with a Makua
with whom I had little difficulty in conversing.

There are two great Wayao chiefs in the district of Blantyre, who are
called Kapeni and Kumpama, and whose head quarters are at Mounts Sochi
and Cherasulo respectively. These are the two large territorial chiefs.
Mkanda of Cherasulo, was at first a headman of Kumpama’s, but rebelled,
and lives on the southern side of that mountain; an easy day’s march from
Blantyre. Kumpama’s territory begins about six miles from Blantyre at
a stream called the Luunsu, and extends to the Namasi, on which is the
old site of the Magomero Mission. The next great centre of population
as we march to the north-east is Zomba, one side of which is owned
by Chemlumbe, a Yao chief. The other side belongs to Malemya, a more
powerful man, who is a Machinga. A little way beyond there is Mount
Chikala, where a still more powerful chief called Kawinga resides; he
is also a Machinga. If we look towards the south from Zomba we see a
great mountain, Mlanje, this marks the domain of Matapwiri. When we wish
in Quilimane to ask for a man who speaks Chiyao or Machinga, we ask
for a person from Matapwiri’s country. There a Matapwiri is used for a
simpleton—one that has not seen the world. It is with this chief that the
Yao of the coast are most associated, as the slave gangs for Quilimane
used to set out from his village.


G.—TRAVELLING AND SALUTATIONS.


_Native Roads._

The native roads are never straight; at best they glide along by an easy
succession of curves. Sometimes the amount of curvature is very annoying.
The path is little more than a foot broad. Each side is covered with tall
grass, which reaches over the traveller’s head. You can only see four
or five paces in front, and you can never predict what course the path
will take after that. The causes of curvature are numerous. Here a tree
fell down long ago and lay across the path. While it still lay every
traveller went round the end of it, and the original path was abandoned,
and replaced by grass that no traveller will care to interfere with. At
another place the path turned aside to go through a little village; but
the village has passed away years ago. At another spot some one had hoed
a field, and made the road go round its border. There are cases too where
the path may have deviated to avoid marshes and difficult crossings. On
many roads we lose one mile in every five. After the grass is burned, or
in bad soil where very little grass grows, one may have the pleasure of
going in a straight line; but where the grass is at all represented no
one can pass through it without the greatest exertion. If a person leave
a native path with the idea of taking a short cut, he may get into a
tangle of long grass and bushes, where his progress will be not more than
one mile in four hours.


_Grass Fires._

One of the best sights in Africa is a large grass fire. No fireworks
in Britain can for a moment compare with this. Broad plains will keep
burning for weeks. At the mission on the side of Mount Zomba, which
overlooked a plain of several days’ journey, the sight of these fires was
very impressive. The trees in the country suffer much.


_Salutations._

The natives in saluting each other say “moni”—a corruption of the English
“morning”. So general did this word become that we have heard people
inclined to fancy that there must really be a native word “moni!” The
native salutation is “mugonile?” “Have you slept well?” Sometimes friends
will ask each other “Are you well?” “Is all well at your home?”

A party arriving at a village observes the greatest formality. After
getting an introduction to the chief of the village he begins to explain
the object of his visit. The explanation is generally most tedious—it
seems to go from the creation downwards—every step being carefully
traced, whether in action or in motive, till the moment of the arrival!

The natives have the greatest respect for the older people. The title
of father is given to such. If we ask anything of a younger man about
30 years of age he will say “I am only a child; ask the old men of gray
hairs”. All the English are saluted as father; even a white child of
a few months is saluted in the words, “moni, moni, atati!” (morning,
morning, father).


_The Inferior Position of Women._

The women hold an inferior position. They are viewed as beasts of burden,
which do all the harder work. When a woman meets any men on the path
the etiquette is for her to go off the path, to kneel (tindiwala), and
clap her hands to the “lords of creation” as they pass. Even if a female
possess male slaves of her own she observes this custom when she meets
them on the public highway. A woman always kneels when she has occasion
to talk to a man. The custom very rapidly disappeared in the region of
the missionaries. When we saw a woman go out of her way, carrying perhaps
half a hundred-weight on her head, with the intention of kneeling down,
and reflecting, as she must, that with her load she might have difficulty
in getting up, we have often playfully shouted out, “You are losing
your way; this is the path,” and she took it for granted that she might
dispense with the clumsy ceremony.




CHAPTER II.

NATIVE ARTS AND LITERATURE.


H.—TRADES AND MANUFACTURES.

The chief method of obtaining a livelihood is by cultivating the soil.
Near a lake abounding with fishes, the cultivation of the soil, though
not abandoned, may take a secondary place. In districts abounding with
game, the men as a rule hand over all agricultural work to their wives
and slaves. Fishing and hunting are looked on as being more dignified
occupations than hoeing.


_Work in Iron._

Skilled labour is exemplified chiefly in their blacksmiths. Still the
smith does not live so exclusively by his trade that he can neglect his
farm, and in his operations he has sometimes so many assistants that his
peculiar position is compromised.

Iron is found in many places. It is dug up and brought to a furnace or
small kiln (ng’aso) made of clay. A charcoal fire is kept blazing by
means of clay pipes or hollow bamboos, which communicate with the bottom
of the kiln, and are used as the pipes of a bellows. For a bellows they
use a goat’s skin. Of iron they make hoes, spears, arrow-heads, knives,
&c. Their hoes have no iron ring for fixing a handle. A hole is bored by
means of a heated iron (there are no drills) in the handle, and the end
of the hoe is inserted.

When a man wants a pocket handkerchief, it is to the blacksmith that he
must go. The pocket handkerchief is made of iron and shaped somewhat like
a spoon. The point of it is turned up so as to enter the nostril, and as
the native has no pockets, it is hung round the neck.


_Wood-work and Basket-work._

The worker-in-wood has hardly a distinct trade. Nearly every man does his
own wood-work. They make mortars by hollowing out part of the trunk of
a tree with a bent axe. The work takes about four days. Drums are made
in the same way—their ends are covered with python skins. Certain drums
are beaten on the breast; the larger are not lifted from the ground. We
have heard the sound of some of those at five miles’ distance. Chairs in
imitation of animals are cut out of the trunk of a tree; but the legs are
easily broken, as they run at right angles to the cleavage of the timber.
Similarly they make large birds, wooden pillows, and plates.

Many things are made of bamboos (milasi) and reeds (matete). The tribes
on the hills thus make beds and baskets in endless variety. The beds are
not clumsy. One can easily “take them up and walk”. They are mats made of
thin slips of bamboo, which are sewn together by a bamboo needle. They
remind us of a Venetian blind, only the slips lie side by side without
overlapping. They can be folded up in the form of a cylinder and earned
conveniently under the arm (but the native carries his loads on his
head). The borders of their baskets are thin broad pieces of wood, which
are bent into a circular form, and sometimes curiously carved. A similar
ornamental device, simpler in pattern, is seen on their clay pots. Good
hats are made of the mlasa.


_Bark Cloth, &c._

They go and strip a tree of its bark, which they soften in water, and
beat with an ebony hammer till it forms a cloth. This was the ordinary
clothing of the people before the missions. Now it is worn above other
clothes on a rainy day. It very soon tears. The work is very tedious,
much beating being required. One hears the sound of the hammer long
before he comes to the spot. The piece of bark is laid on a large log;
after being well hammered, it becomes quite thin. The cloth thus formed
is much wider than the original piece of bark had been.

Cotton grows plentifully. All the natives can make thread of it. One of
their most tedious occupations is to make cloth. They do this in a very
rude manner, and only make small strips at a time. Each thread has to be
put separately in its place by the hand. Very few natives have courage
for this tedious manipulation; but the cloth when made is strong and
highly esteemed; it resembles bath towels.

They dye the English calico that it may last longer, but they preserve
gaudy dresses without dyeing. A root is used for soap where the European
article cannot be got.

Their pots are all made of clay by the women. Some of their clay vessels
are a beautiful red. In their cooking they use no metals; English pots
and pans speak to them of arts that are far beyond them. Their food is
boiled in a clay pot, which is propped up on three stones. Another pot is
turned down to serve for a lid.

Men of considerable skill are called alupa or apalu, and are believed to
have strong medicine or charms.

If any one were to describe our English industries, he could not dispose
of the subject in a short paragraph. But in Africa these industries do
not strike us so much. They are not such a large item in human life.
We see none of the working at high pressure that meets us everywhere
at home. There are no crowds of pale-faced men and girls rushing along
almost mechanically in response to some factory bell. There are no poor
clerks cooped up in dingy counting-houses—no students with aching heads,
trying to dispense with sleep. There are no careworn parents whose hard
toil barely supports their children. The African has about him an air
of stillness and repose that is in beautiful harmony with the scenery
around. His life is not a struggle for existence. He does not care to
work against time. Ambition does not drag him behind its chariot wheels.
If we were to rank the Africans in classes, we should put down most of
them as “gentlemen in easy circumstances”. Their circumstances are easy
not because their gratifications are many, but because their wants are
few.

The way in which their industries come before our notice is like this.
We take a walk in the country. By the side of some brook we find a man
or two digging for iron ore. They are surrounded by companions with
whom they keep up a cheerful conversation. Some are ready to assist in
carrying the ore to the furnace. They carry clay also, which is to be
plastered on their kiln. How are these loads to be transported? There are
no carts, no wheelbarrows, and no roads suitable for either. Neither have
they any boxes or baskets. What are they to do? One lad darts into the
bush and cuts a bundle of wands; he then takes his knife and splits each
wand (if he be not content to use it whole), and there, he says, is his
basket. The white man replies, “Yes; these wands might make a basket if
you had anything to tie them together”. Immediately the youth tears off
strips of bark, and exclaims, “Here’s the black man’s rope,” and soon the
load is tied up in the middle of his basket.

As we pass along the stream we find indications of agricultural work
also, but on these we do not dwell, as it is the more special trades
we wish to illustrate. Already we see women washing their grain at the
stream for we are advancing on little hamlets. Now we hear the peculiar
tap, tap, tap of the hammer on the bark-cloth, as it mingles with
the notes of the birds. Under the trees we can descry a group of men
splitting up bamboos and smoothing the slips to form a bed. In a shaded
verandah we find an old woman or two moulding some soft clay. It looks a
shapeless mass, but it is “in the hands of the potter”. Each worker has
found some ochre, for she is fond of ornamental tints. A potsherd is by
her, and she has calculated the precise form she will give her vessel.

[Illustration: NATIVE PIPES AND POTTERY.]

Soon we reach the village green. Here we find a number of men sitting
doing nothing. It may be that one is sewing a cloth, while the others
loll upon mats and dreamily watch his hands. An ardent youth may approach
the group and astonish us by taking from under his loin cloth a reel
and some cotton, which he proceeds to make into thread. There are in
that dark group all the elements of human nature that we find in busier
lands. But in African life there is nothing of the bustle and hurry and
scramble, nothing of the care and worry, the headache and heartache, that
are found in England.

We cannot leave the group without asking ourselves, “What has all our
boasted civilisation done?” Are we any happier than these rude natives?
We shall see by and by that they are not exempt from hardship and injury.
Their valleys and mountains witness many a sorrowful scene. But after we
have placed a policeman in every corner, hardship and injury are still in
our midst. Does it not seem as if there were some bankruptcy about human
nature? For a hundred generations we have tried all manner of experiments
with Governments and Institutions. We have moved them backwards and
forwards like pieces on a draught board. In all this have we not been
proving our bankruptcy? We have been diligently trying the most improved
methods of book-keeping, but the result has only been to chase the
deficit out of one column into another. The deficit is still there!

Yes. But above the clouds and storms we have the blue vault of heaven.
The pale factory girl, the over wrought mechanic, the anxious student
may all have a peace that passeth understanding. As the missionary is
surrounded by the heathen, he feels that his message to them has not so
much to do with civilisation. They are not disposed to trouble about
mechanical improvements in their unsettled land; but in their unsettled
land they are arrested by an expression like “Fear not them that kill
the body, and after that have nothing that they can do”. Startling words
to those that pass their days in fear of them that kill the body! These
are surely whispers from some other world! Those dark figures have often
gazed upon “the heavens above and the earth beneath” without making
much of the vast mystery. They are likely to make more of the Scripture
message. One of the oldest will turn on his mat and quietly remark,
“Father, if you are speaking the truth, we are all living in darkness”.


I.—THE LEARNED PROFESSIONS.

What corresponds among the Africans to the clergymen, doctors, and
lawyers of modern England? It will be found that in Africa these
professions are not distinct, just as in Mediæval England the monks did
all the teaching, healing, and advising. With reference to worship we
shall find that the chief of the country and the chief of a village take
prominent places.


_The Physician._

The healing art is practised most purely by the Msing’anga. Some of the
methods are these:—_Cupping_ by means of a horn, whose end is stopped
by bees wax. The blood that fills the horn is thrown to the ground, and
the disease falls with it. _Counter-irritation._—Sometimes the physician
will be content by making a number of incisions chiefly along the legs;
on other occasions he will rub in vegetable ashes. _Administration of
medicine_, which consists chiefly of plants and their roots; the Yao word
for medicine means also a tree. The natives extract arrows by cutting
all round the wound. They never amputate in order to heal, but they are
able to cut off limbs very neatly, and are fond of practising the art on
criminals and enemies.

But a great part of the treatment is by charms. Even where the native
knows a good cure he looks on it as a charm, and his use of it is
accompanied by much senseless mummery. This will be understood when we
remember that diseases are supposed to be caused by witchcraft.


_The Sorcerer._

This brings us to speak of a more terrible member of the learned
professions, viz., the sorcerer, diviner, or witch-doctor (mchisango).
The “cup wherewith he divineth” is called chisango.

He is appealed to after the physician or herbalist has failed. He is
asked to tell what witch causes the disease. He may find one, and the
person that he accuses of witchcraft goes with a present to the sick
person, who recovers immediately.

The diviner may be consulted on any matter. He is the great adviser of
the people in all their difficulties. A person goes to him, and puts as
many questions as he likes, and receives answers. These conversations
are very interesting; but all that I have heard are so very intricate
that it is impossible to do justice to them in an abridgment. “My female
slave has gone away, what am I to do?” The diviner tells what he is to
do if she have gone to Cherasulo, and what he is to do if she have gone
to another place. He mentions what will happen if he goes to ask for her
according to the individual that he may ask, &c., &c. Part of the advice
may have reference to the spot where he will obtain a medicine helpful in
his negotiations.

While these diviners give their response they shake a small gourd[4]
filled with pebbles, and inspect pieces of sticks, bones, claws, pottery,
&c., which are in another gourd. They often give sound advice, and they
pretend to get it by this inspection, as it might otherwise give offence
to their client.

Some of the diviners are the most intelligent men in the country. They
claim high fees. One time we told a diviner very candidly our opinion
of his art, insisting that his advice was sound, and deserved to be
paid for, but that he knew as well as I that it did not come from the
withered-looking contents of the gourd, but from his own judgment. The
man took no offence, and though he lived at some distance he made a point
of coming thereafter to our Sabbath meetings.

These men are the great agents in detecting and trying witchcraft.
In one respect they, and not the chiefs, form the judicial tribunals
of the land, although they play into the hands of the chiefs or any
rich man that pays handsomely. After they have detected a criminal he
must be tried. The trial takes place by the drinking of the poisoned
cup—mwai. Consequently the diviner had better be on good terms with the
professional “pounder of poison” (mpondela mwai), whose duty it is to
administer this poisoned draught to the accused. This, in case of guilt,
at once convicts and punishes, the poison causes death. In case of
innocence the poison is vomited, and the accused is acquitted.

The witch-detective is at the head of the divining profession, and is
referred to in almost every case of death, and sometimes in smaller
cases, as where life was in danger (107).


K.—MEDICINES AND CHARMS.

A great many trees are supposed to have virtues. Each native knows this,
and becomes to some extent his own doctor. Pain in the stomach is treated
by the bark of the mbawa; headache by rubbing externally with ashes of
the msolo, as also by certain charms put round the temples. The first
thing a native does in headache is to tie a string tightly round his
brow. The symptom of cold and shivering is treated by bathing in “water
of the mkako”. For ulcers they use the mlonde. Ulcerated legs is one of
the commonest maladies that attack children. For a time English treatment
of these was brought into discredit, as the children would carelessly
tear off the dressings and bandages. One native treatment was to tie on
a broad leaf by strips of bark (which serves as their thread), and leave
it till the sore had improved.

A common war medicine is to eat the heart of an enemy.

Medicine to keep the hunter from danger and to render him successful is
much prized. Elephant medicine they buy from each other at the highest
prices they can afford. They have many miscellaneous charms—some tied
about their bodies, others on their guns. They have a very effectual
arrow poison.

One time a leopard was killed by strychnia. A chief and his Prime
Minister came to Zomba Mission very secretly to beg for this “medicine”;
it was to be sprinkled into the mortars where the flour of their enemies
was pounded. The experiment was trusted to by its promoters as likely to
be very successful, a point which was not at all doubtful. Great was the
disappointment when the poison was refused.

The goats belonging to the Mission seemed to get on very well, and Mr.
Buchanan was beset with many entreaties for a medicine to increase the
goats of the neighbouring chiefs.

When a fowl hatches, the egg shells that have been forsaken by the young
brood are carefully collected and hung up in the house of their owner to
preserve the chickens from hawks and other dangers.

After they have planted their crops, the field is often protected against
theft by charms which they buy. Pieces of string, either twisted from
native cotton or made of the bark of a tree, are thus used.

On one occasion Dr. Macklin was called to prescribe for a woman. He asked
to see her tongue. His quick observation detected at the same time signs
of excitement and temper about her, and he advised her to try to be
agreeable with her husband and friends. It appears the woman was a great
scold; and the natives were astonished to find that the Doctor could
discover this by looking at her tongue! That he had a great “charm” was
beyond all doubt.


L.—TRADITIONAL LITERATURE.

These people have, of course, no writing. We met with many that had never
seen a book before. The sight of pictures impressed them so much that
their first impulse was to run away supposing that the little painted
lion or leopard was dangerous. By and by some one in the crowd discovers
that this lion is quite thin! He has looked at the back of the paper
and found that the body of the lion is not there! Some of the boldest,
after we assure them of safety, will even put their hands upon him. The
attitude of old and young is one of utter, speechless amazement.

But these people are rich in a traditional literature. It meets us in at
least four distinct forms. 1. Ndawi or conundrums. Some of them are quite
short, as “the house without a door,” for an egg. An incredible number of
these is in common circulation, and known to most boys and girls. I noted
down over 150 of them.

There are other conundrums in the form of a little story.

2. Ndano, or tales. These are also called ndawi, because many of them
resemble the conundrums in having a double meaning. Some of these, we
might almost say most of these, when complete have songs in them, which
are repeated every now and then at each crisis in the tale. They are
often recited in this form on public occasions.

I got one old man that was as enthusiastic in his recitals as the old
Homerids are said to have been. When I was writing to his dictation my
private study became a small theatre. In vain I reminded him that the
nursery was near! His voice was audible in the outside, scores of yards
from the house. School children stopped their games, and came giggling
about, and demure old natives would turn off the public highway and
advance in amazement. Yet even so my old man was not satisfied—his
enthusiasm, he thought, fell short of the occasion, and he introduced two
young women to sing responses to the chants. The natives do not speak of
“telling a tale,” but of “singing a tale” (kwimba ndawi).

3. Nyimbo or Songs. These may be extemporised—music, responses and all,
on the shortest notice. But there is a great collection of old songs,
many of which can be identified as being the songs of several tales (L.
2), even where they are used independently. Indeed the singers could
seldom point to the corresponding tale; it was only when we happened to
know the tale before that we could claim the song for it. Still many
songs we believe to be quite independent. The music is a simple chant.
Those that are not reciting join in responses. The language of the songs
is more difficult than that of the tales, and still more difficult is the
language of the catch-word literature (L. 4).

Many of their songs aim at being an echo of tuneful nature around them.
One beautiful chant imitates a little brook as it goes murmuring down its
stony channel. The singers intentionally render this song in a subdued
voice. I could not find any corresponding tale. It calls up to my mind
the idea of a mother sitting with a few children on the bank (chiko) of
a small stream as she has finished her hoeing, and rests for a minute
before going home. She warns the children against the Likwanya or prickly
bush that grows by the stream. This strain sung so softly has a soothing
effect, and might well make the children sit down on the bank, engrossed
with the sound of the rippling stream imitated in the music.

Sung in a company of little girls it is rendered thus—

    _1st Voice._  Likwanya likunyanya ku chiko.
    _Response._           _Anyanyale._

    _1st Voice._ {    singing    } Likwanya likunyanya ku chiko.
    _2nd Voice._ {simultaneously.} Anya-nya-nya-le e.

    _1st Voice._ { simultaneous. } Anya-nya-nya-le e.
    _2nd Voice._ {               } Likunyanya ku chiko.

    _1st Voice._ { simultaneous. } Likunyanya ku chiko.
    _2nd Voice._ {               } Anya-nya-nya-le e.

    _Response._           _Anyanyale._

After this the girls that have sung the parts marked 1st voice and 2nd
voice fall back on the response; and a 3rd and 4th voice take these
parts. All the voices that are not reciting join in the response.

Another song has reference to a large bird, the ndututu. One voice
designedly imitates its notes as it converses with a few women; while
another voice imitates as distinctly the pounding of corn in which these
women are engaged.

4. The fourth form of their literature is in certain catch-word
compositions (chitagu), which have double meanings. The following is a
specimen when there are two speakers or reciters:—

    THE FIRST SAYS.   THE SECOND SAYS.

    Nda.              Nda kuluma.
    Kuluma.           Kuluma mbale.
    Mbale.            Mbale katete.
    Katete.           Katete ngupe.
    Ngupe.            Ngupe akane.
    Kane.             Kane akongwe.
    Kongwe.           Akongole chimanga.
    Chimanga.         Chimanje macholo.
    Macholo.          Gachole wandu.

Long tales are carried on in this way. One effect sought after is to
bring together words similar in form, but differing in meaning, as if we
were to catch up the last word of our sentences thus:—

    Come forward, shew thys_elf_!
    _Elf_ dost thou call me, vile pretender?

In this form of literature we meet with plays upon words—an unusual
phenomenon in unwritten languages. In the conundrums proper (L. 1) we met
with only one case of a play on words. We are asked, “What is the girl
that decks herself?” The word for “deck” happens also to mean “shine,”
and the answer is “the moon”.

Having now spoken of the forms in which this literature has been handed
down we shall say something of its matter or contents.

A great part of it consists of fables regarding the lower animals where
the characteristics of these animals are brought out. The rabbit is the
clever hero of all the tales, much as the fox is in European tales. The
hyena (litunu) is celebrated for its greediness. The litunu is a large
carrion eater, which stands, we think, rather higher than the lion. In
one tale the hyena is always begging food from the lion. The lion makes
a buck climb a tree, so that its shadow is reflected in the water; this
reflection is pointed out to the hyena, who at once casts himself into
the river.

The following may stand for an example of their tales:—There was once
a hyena and a leopard. They went a journey, and the hyena picked up a
tortoise, and told the leopard, saying, “See, I have picked up my[5]
tortoise”. The leopard said, “Give it me that I may see it”. He gave it
him, then the leopard threw the tortoise away. One day they heard that
the tortoise was a doctor. Then the hyena and the leopard arranged to
go to the tortoise, and beg medicine for hunting. They went, they found
the tortoise, and said, “We have come for medicine for hunting”. The
tortoise gave the leopard beautiful spots, and the hyena ugly spots,
because the hyena had wished to eat the tortoise; then he gave them horns
of medicine, and said to them, “If you find meat that died of itself
you must not eat it”. Then the hyena and the leopard went to hunt. On
the path they found an animal that had died of itself. The hyena said,
“Leopard, my friend, behold an animal that has died of itself”. But the
leopard said, “Come, let us go away”. The hyena said, “Pshaw! we must not
eat meat that died of itself?” Then the leopard said to the hyena, “That
doctor said to us, should you find meat that died of itself, you must
not eat it”. The hyena said “Pshaw! not quite!” The leopard went to the
bush, but the hyena returned to the doctor, and said, “Tortoise, I have
found meat that died of itself. Is it a transgression to look at it?” The
tortoise said, “No, it is not a transgression”.

The hyena went to his meat and gazed on it. Then he went back again to
the doctor and said, “I have looked at it”. Then he said again, “Is it a
transgression to lick it?” The tortoise said “No”. The hyena then went
to his meat and licked it. Then he returned again to the tortoise and
said, “Is it a transgression to remove it from the path?” The tortoise
said “No”. The hyena then went to his meat and removed it off the path,
and threw it far away. He returned again to the tortoise and said to him,
“I have removed it”. And the tortoise said, “Very well”. The hyena asked
again saying, “Is eating it a transgression?” The tortoise said, “You
will not swallow it?” The hyena said “No”. Then he went back to his meat
and ate it, and came back to the tortoise and said, “I have eaten that
meat”. But the tortoise said, “You have transgressed, hyena, you will not
be a hunter, but the leopard will be a good hunter, I gave him a horn of
medicine”. So the leopard caught much meat, but the hyena did not know
how to catch meat. The tortoise had said, “Hyena, O chief, your name is
hyena”.

We may here note that the naming of the animals is a subject on which
they have many legends. The names, too, in most of their legends about
persons, are significant, and accord with the moral of the story.

It must not be forgotten that all the natives’ names have a meaning It
is common for men and women to bear the names of animals; thus we may
have a Mr. Cock, Mr. Lion, and so on. We almost think that their children
when hearing these stories for the first time would think of “hyena,”
“leopard,” &c., as being people who bore these names.

Several stories relate to fowls and birds. Fowls are stated to have
been at first wild, and after a while to have been domesticated. One
fowl was visited by a guinea-fowl. The latter was greatly astonished
that the housewife threw out food for them—that a comfortable house was
provided—and every kindness shewn; but just as all these things were
favourably impressing the guinea-fowl the hungry husband returned and
said, “Kill that fowl as a relish for my porridge”.

Many such tales evince a wonderful sympathy for animals. The natives are
greatly distressed by the visits of a large crow to their crops. Yet they
have a tale which makes them excuse the depredations. “Once on a time a
chief was puzzled over some case, and could get no advice till a crow
came and put matters quite right. This crow was handsomely rewarded by
a gift of beans and other seeds. It proceeded to carry these home, but
dropped many on the way; now when the crow rifles the native’s fields it
is looking for some of those lost seeds and their fruit.”

They have a great many tales embodying theories on the creation of the
world, to which we shall allude below (13). The introduction of arts
and manufactures is also an important theme. We are told of a woman
that found people with plenty of corn, but no porridge. They simply
chewed their grain. This lady produced a mortar and procured flour.
Hollow stones they say gave place to pots, in the same way as caves were
abandoned for houses. They speak of a time when they hoed with wood. It
was after they could use iron knives that they dug down, and could put
in their posts as they do in their modern houses. The first clothing was
bark. Death was introduced by a woman who taught two men to sleep; she
held one’s nostrils, and he never awoke. “Death and sleep,” the legend
remarks, “are one word.”

Monkeys were at one time human beings who quarrelled with their friends,
and went to stay in the bush. Though the natives admit that the monkeys
are their cousins, they are not slow in pointing out where they differ
from men. We said to one woman who was severely censuring the monkeys for
eating her crop, that she should give them some corn to see whether they
would not raise a crop for themselves. She replied that monkeys would not
leave their seed in the ground—they would pick it up and eat it. It is
not everyone that would have fixed so promptly on such a characteristic
difference between men and monkeys. They give many tales of experiments
tried to make human beings out of monkeys, specially in the case of
women that were barren and wanted a child; but, after the most careful
training, these “children” always rejoined their own “kind”.


_Relation to Tales of Other Lands._

There are also many wonderful tales regarding people that crossed lakes
or rivers; but at the time we did not note these so carefully, as we
considered that it was possible that our narrator might modify it in
accordance with teaching that he had heard from the Scriptures.

Since we arrived in England, however, we find that Bishop Callaway
has written down stories exactly similar, and indeed hardly so
circumstantial, which he received from the Amazulu. On looking over his
collection we find several that correspond, chiefly as regards the most
striking feature of the story, with some of ours. This shows what we had
been convinced of long before, that some of these traditions had been
recited at a period when the ancestors of the Amazulu and of these Nyasa
tribes were one people.

The following is an instance of the kind of resemblance:—In one of the
tales of Bishop Callaway a young man tries to destroy the cubs of a
leopard. He kills them one by one; and the point by which the deception
was carried out was to hand the cubs to their mother one by one. When
only one cub was left he handed this cub several times according to the
number of children. The leopard thought that the same cub handed to her
three times was three cubs. In a collection of ours that was sent home in
1880, and since printed, a “rabbit” or fox cheats a lioness by the same
peculiar strategy.

In the stories themselves there is little to give us any note of time or
antiquity. They are liable to modification too in important particulars.
Thus one man will tell a wonderful story of what a hero effected by his
gun. He judges that a European would despise the hero if he were armed
only with a bow and arrows. But another narrator of the same story may
remark on his variation that guns did not come till long after.

After we have had a tale written, we have, in order to obtain
explanations, asked the same man to repeat it, and where he had given any
expression that seemed to vary from the more usual form of language, we
have observed that he kept as faithfully to such expressions as if he had
been reading from a book. We had little doubt that, as he confessed, he
had before him some recital that had produced an impression in his early
years.

As to the amount of this species of literature it is difficult to be
certain. The number of conundrums (1) we think does not much exceed
250. I find that I have written out more than 100 tales (2), and I have
listened to at least 150 others which I did not write out. I merely noted
new words and points in grammar. The traditional songs (3) may be as
numerous as the tales. Of the catch-word compositions (4), at least the
longer ones, I should not expect to find more than 50.

Before I left I had difficulty in finding new specimens of 1, 2, and
4. Mr. Buchanan, in his study of the language, was collecting specimens
of native literature at the same time, and we had begun to think that
we had nearly exhausted the field so far as the more pointed tales
were concerned. New reciters generally wished to give us what we had
already. Our contributors represented a wide district. My list included
Wayao, Machinga, Anyasa, Angulu, Achipeta, Achikunda, and Awisa. But the
tales seemed to be common to all these tribes. A Machinga was generally
familiar even with the tales of a native of Quilimane. Where this was not
so we considered the tale as merely local and of no antiquity.

We have given translations of several tales in the appendices.




ETHOLOGY.




CHAPTER III.

BELIEFS ABOUT GOD.


ARTICLES 1-107.

The following statements on the Ethology or the customs of these races
are taken from the very words of the natives themselves. Natives are
generally quite agreed as to what their customs are. Where they gave
different views I have noted both, after finding that both had real
authority. I do not think I have admitted any point of importance without
having heard at least four natives on the subject. The statements are
translations, as far as possible, from the _ipsissima verba_ of the
negroes.


1.—THE NATURE OF MAN.

An ancient philosopher was asked by his friends when he was dying what
they should do with him after his death. “All very well,” was the reply,
“if you can catch me.” The Materialist tells us that there is nothing to
catch, that there is nothing that runs away from the body at death, but
the Spiritualist says, “You have only the remains of the man there—only
the instrument that he used to work with”.

What is the position of these African tribes with regard to this
question? They are unanimous in saying that there is something beyond the
body which they call spirit (lisoka) or pure spirit (lisokape). Every
human body at death is forsaken by this spirit; but the spirit of a child
that dies about four or five days’ of age gets nothing of the usual
attention (45).


2.—IMMORTALITY.

“Do these spirits ever die?” Some I have heard affirm that it is possible
for a troublesome spirit to be killed (5, 4). Others give this a direct
denial. Many like Kumpama of Cherasulo say, “You ask me whether a man’s
spirit ever dies. I cannot tell. I have never been in the spirit world,
but this I am certain of, that spirits live for a very long time.” This
is a good specimen of cautious answers that the natives often give, and
it expresses the belief that they act on with reference to departed
spirits.


3.—WHO THE GODS ARE.

In all our translations of Scripture where we found the word GOD we used
_Mulungu_, but this word is chiefly used by the natives as a general name
for spirit. The spirit of a deceased man is called his Mulungu, and all
the prayers and offerings of the living are presented to such spirits
of the dead. It is here that we find the great centre of the native
religion. The spirits of the dead are the gods of the living.

Besides lisoka (1) and mulungu there is another word for spirit, viz.,
_msimu_, which is much used in reference to offerings.


4.—WHERE THEY ARE FOUND.

Where are these gods found? At the grave? No. The villagers shrink from
yonder gloomy place that lies far beyond their fields on the bleak
mountain side. It is only when they have to lay another sleeper beside
his forefathers that they will go there. Their god is not the body in
the grave, but the spirit, and they seek this spirit at the place where
their departed kinsman last lived among them. It is the great tree at the
verandah (_kwipenu_) of the dead man’s house that is their temple, and
if no tree grow here they erect a little shade, and there perform their
simple rites. If this spot become too public the offerings may be denied
(40), and the sanctuary will be removed to a carefully-selected spot
under some beautiful tree. Very frequently a man presents an offering at
the top of his own bed beside his head. He wishes his god to come to him
and whisper in his ear as he sleeps.

These gods are not confined to one place. In answer to prayer they can
protect a man during a long journey, and return with him in peace. When
all the villagers are driven from their homes by war these spirits have
power to go with them to a new village. The spirit of an old chief may
have a whole mountain for his residence, but he dwells chiefly on the
cloudy summit. There he sits to receive the worship of his votaries, and
to send down the refreshing showers in answer to their prayers.


5.—HOW THE GODS GIVE EVIDENCE OF THEIR EXISTENCE.

How do the natives know that these gods attend to them? How do they judge
that their deceased ancestors can see them through the darkness of the
grave?

(1) They judge from the way in which prayers have been answered. If they
pray for a successful hunting expedition and return laden with venison or
ivory, they know that it is their old relative that has done it, and they
give him a thank offering. If the hunting party get nothing, they may say
“the spirit has been sulky with us” (_akwete lupuso_), and refuse the
thank-offering.

(2) Besides this, their god appears to them in dreams. They may see him
as they knew him in days gone by. When they dream of the living there
is nothing wonderful in that; but when they dream of the dead it is the
departed spirit come to visit them. Such a dream impresses them very
much. That being is altogether different since he entered the spirit
world. Now he is a god with power to watch over them, and help them, and
control their destiny.

(3) The appearance of the gods in dreams is still too hazy. Their
craving for clearer manifestations of the deity is satisfied through the
prophetess (_juakuweweta_). She may be the principal wife of the chief;
in some cases a woman without a husband will be set apart for the god.

The god comes to her with his commands at night. She delivers the
message in a kind of ecstacy. She speaks (as her name implies) with the
utterance of a person raving with excitement. During the night of the
communication her ravings are heard sounding all over the village in a
high key.

The whole hamlet is wrapt in slumber, when all at once the midnight
stillness is broken by those mad shrieks. The startled inhabitants think
it is war—slavers have come—their first impulse is to run away. Their
fear soon subsides. It is the prophetess. They are anxious to hear what
she has to say, and return to bed again. Or there may be a great meeting
in the morning, when the prophetess appears—her head encircled with bhang
or Indian hemp, and her arms cut as if for new tatoos.

Various gods reveal themselves thus in various places, either local
deities (11), like Mbona of Cholo, or more ordinary gods (25-28).

(4) The gods may appear in animal forms. Some spirits may appear for
mischief. If a dead man wants to frighten his wife he may persist in
coming as a serpent. The only remedy for this is to kill the serpent,
when some go so far as to say that this troublesome spirit is dead, but
others say that though the trouble is ended the god is only reduced to a
pure spirit (lisokape).


6.—DISTINCTIONS AFFECTING THE GODS.

It is usual to distinguish between the spirit and the form it takes.
A spirit often appears as a serpent. When a man kills a serpent thus
belonging to a spirit, he goes and makes an apology to the offended god,
saying, “Please, please, I did not know that it was your serpent”. The
departed may assume the form of other animals. A great hunter generally
takes the form of a lion or a leopard; and all witches (_asawi_) seem to
like the form of a hyena.

There is also a distinction between the spirit and the spirit’s
messenger. The spirit, it is said, will not take the form of a bird,
but will send a bird with its message. We have this well illustrated in
the legend about Che Mlóngolo, which became so popular amongst us at
Blantyre. A little boy was allowed by his father to accompany a caravan
to the coast; he picked up some curiosities, for which an Arab gave him
exceedingly beautiful cloth. His uncle coveted the cloth, abused the boy
very much, and ultimately killed him. A little bird flew to his home at
the village, and sang on the trees to the women as they pounded their
corn, “Ti, ti, ti, diridya; Ti, ti, ti, diridya, they have slain Che
Mlóngolo because of his cloth”.


7.—THE PRIESTS.

A certain amount of etiquette is observed in approaching the gods. In no
case can a little boy or girl approach these deities, neither can any
one that has not been at the mysteries (52). The common qualification is
that a person has attained a certain age, about 12 or 14 years, and has a
house of his own. Slaves seldom pray, except when they have had a dream.
Children that have had a dream tell their mother, who approaches the
deity on their behalf. (A present for the god is necessary, and the slave
or child may not have it.)

Apart from the case of dreams and a few such private matters, it is not
usual for anyone to approach the gods except the chief of the village.
He is the recognised high priest who presents prayers and offerings on
behalf of all that live in his village. If the chief is from home his
wife will act, and if both are absent, his younger brother (mpwao). The
natives worship not so much individually as in villages or communities.
Their religion is more a public than a private matter.

When we went to Blantyre we were accompanied by two small boys that had
lived in Quilimane. One night after we were in bed we were startled by
a terrible screaming. This was heard by a friend who lived in another
house at a short distance from ours, and he came to us judging that we
had among us at least a leopard. But the screams were found to have
a different cause. The younger boy wished to carry into practice our
exhortations about prayer, and for this purpose knelt down on his little
mat or bed. The older was more cumbered with much serving, like Martha.
He wanted to make his bed tidy, and without ceremony threw the little
worshipper off the mat, telling him that it was not proper for him to
pray, as he was not a white man (msungu). The rudeness gave rise to
fighting and screaming. We mention the incident to show that the bigger
boy would hold that he belonged to the village of the white man, and that
the white man ought to approach the gods on his behalf.

The chief of a village has another title to the priesthood. It is his
relatives that are the village gods. Everyone that lives in the village
recognises these gods; but if anyone remove to another village he changes
his gods. He recognises now the gods of his new chief. One wishing to
pray to the god (or gods) of any village naturally desires to have his
prayers presented through the village chief, because the latter is nearly
related to the village god, and may be expected to be better listened to
than a stranger.


8.—VILLAGE GODS.

On the subject of the village gods opinions differ. Some say that every
one in the village, whether a relative of the chief or not, must worship
the forefathers of the chief. Others say that a person not related to
the chief must worship his own forefathers, otherwise their spirits will
bring trouble upon him. To reconcile these authorities we may mention
that nearly every one in the village is related to its chief, or if
not related is, in courtesy, considered so. Any person not related to
the village chief would be polite enough on all public occasions to
recognise the village god: on occasions of private prayer (which are not
so numerous as in Christendom) he would approach the spirits of his own
forefathers.

Besides, there might be a god of the land. The chief Kapeni prays to his
own relatives, and also to the old gods of the place. His own relatives
he approaches himself, the other deities he may also approach himself,
but he often finds people more closely related, and consequently more
acceptable (7) to the old gods of the land.


9.—MONOTHEISM, POLYTHEISM, OR PANTHEISM?

After we have settled that there is an object of worship, there are
still a great many different positions to hold. We might be Pantheists,
Polytheists, or Monotheists.

The position of Pantheism is seldom indicated by natives when describing
their religion. We once thought that the class of nouns (in the native
language) that _Mulungu_ belongs to was an argument in favour of their
Pantheism. One class of native nouns is nearly co-extensive with human
beings, and Mulungu is not in this class. But the argument at best is
weak.

While Mulungu means a spirit, it may also be used as a proper name.
There are two classes of expressions where it is used as a proper name.
The first class points to a kind of Pantheism. Mulungu is said to be
“the great spirit (msimu) of all men, a spirit formed by adding all the
departed spirits together”. These and various other expressions of the
same kind indicate a grasping after a being who is the totality of all
individual existence, and are not unworthy of notice. If they fell from
the lips of civilised men instead of savages they would be regarded
as philosophy. Expressions of this kind among the natives are partly
traditional, and partly dictated by the big thoughts of the moment. The
second class of expressions where we have Mulungu used as a proper
name certainly points to a personal being. By the Wayao he is sometimes
said to be the same as Mtanga (12). At other times he is a Being that
possesses many powerful servants; but is himself kept a good deal beyond
the scene of earthly affairs, like the gods of Epicurus. In the native
hypotheses about creation “the people of Mulungu” (wa ku Mulungu) play a
very important part. This Mulungu in the spiritual world—the world beyond
the grave—is represented as assigning to spirits their various places. He
arranges them in rows or tiers.

After making an induction of all that we have heard about Mulungu
(carefully excluding, of course, every statement that seemed to be in the
least modified by Christian teaching), we should say that their religion
in its worship was practically Polytheism. At the same time the spirits
are often asked to act as mediators with some higher being. Beyond their
Polytheism their language contains a few expressions that remind us of
Pantheism, and a great many that speak to us of Monotheism.

The derivation of the word Mulungu throws some light on the subject.
Henry Salt (1814) says that among the Makuas it means “the sky”.
We have heard Yao expressions that would prepare us to accept this
interpretation; and the Yao word may be sometimes used for rainbow (which
is either Mulungu or ukunje wa Mulungu): it is singular too that Chilungu
means earthquake. We think a more correct view lies in the derivation
stated by Bleek, which makes it originally mean “great ancestor”.


10.—NUMBER OF THE NATIVES’ GODS.

We saw that every human being has a Mulungu or spirit (2). This position
every native will uphold, except perhaps in the case of a young child who
has not reached six days of age, and has not been formally introduced
into the world or “taken out of the house” (kopoka m’ nyumba) (44). If a
child of six days has been introduced into the world though only a day
before its death, its spirit is entitled to offerings, and receives these
offerings at least from its parents. When the little child meets the
parents beyond the grave it will say, “You remembered me; I saw what you
were doing”.

The spirit of every deceased man and woman, with the solitary exception
of wizards and witches becomes an object of religious homage.

The gods of the natives then are nearly as numerous as their dead. It
is impossible to worship all; a selection must be made, and, as we
have indicated, each worshipper turns most naturally to the spirits
of his own departed relatives; but his gods are too many still, and
in farther selecting he turns to those that have lived nearest his
own time. Thus the chief of a village will not trouble himself about
his great-great-grandfather; he will present his offering to his
own immediate predecessor, and say, “Oh, father, I do not know all
your relatives, you know them all, invite them to feast with you”.
The offering is not simply for himself, but for himself and all his
relatives. We ask him, “What if they quarrel with the other relatives
about their share of the feast?” “Let them quarrel,” he replies, “I have
given them enough.”


_Key to their view of the Spirit World._

We may think that the native chief in selecting his predecessor alone,
has left all the rest of the people that once lived in his village
without any homage. Here we encounter an important native view that a
chief represents and is responsible for all his people. If any one wish
to treat with a native village it is with the village chief that he
must deal. If we give a present to a village it is to the village chief
that we must give it. This does not prevent us from giving presents to
any other individual. So it is in the world beyond, which the natives
conceive to be peopled in the same way as this world. There the old chief
has his wives and slaves and companions about him as of yore. To the
natives death is the time when they, in like manner, shall be literally
“gathered to their fathers”.


_Nature of Offerings._

The man that makes an offering regards himself as giving a present
(mtuka) to a little village of the departed which is headed by its chief.
Those that are best known to the offerer may get a present themselves,
but they will be expected to call the attention of the chief when a
public present arrives.


11.—LOCAL DEITIES.

We have seen that people residing in a village worship their deceased
chief, but when their present chief dies he will become the principal
god; more distant relatives give place to successors. But a great chief
that has been successful in his wars does not pass out of memory so soon.
He may become the god of a mountain or a lake, and may receive homage
as a local deity long after his own descendants have been driven from
the spot. When there is a supplication for rain the inhabitants of the
country pray not so much to their own forefathers as to the god of yonder
mountain on whose shoulders the great rain clouds repose. (Smaller hills
are seldom honoured with a deity.)

The god of Mount Sochi is Kangomba. One tradition regarding him is
this—When the Wayao were driving the Wanyasa out of the country,
Kangomba, a Wanyasa chief, saw that defence was hopeless, and entered a
great cave on the mountain side. Out of this cave he never returned; “he
died unconquered in his own land”. The Wayao made the old tribe retire
before them, but the chief Kangomba kept his place, and the new comers
are glad to invoke his aid to this day. Their supplication for rain takes
the form (Ku Sochi, kwa Kangomba ula jijise) “Oh, Kangomba of Sochi, send
us rain”. The Wayao chief Kapeni often asks some of the Wanyasa tribe
that can trace connection with Kangomba to help him in these offerings
and supplications (7).


12.—SUPERIOR DEITIES.

Beyond and above the spirits of their fathers, and chiefs localised on
hills, the Wayao speak of others that they consider superior. Only their
home is more associated with the country which the Yao left; so that they
too at one time may have been looked upon really as local deities. Among
these other beings are Mtanga and Chitowe.

_Mtanga_ some distinctly localise as the god of Mangochi, the great hill
that the Yao people left. I regret much that I did not see this hill
before leaving Africa, as I have heard so much of it. To these people
it is all that the many-ridged Olympus was to the Greeks. The voice of
Mtanga, some hold, is still audible on Mangochi. Others say that Mtanga
was never a man, and that Mtanga is another word for Mulungu. He was
concerned in the first introduction of men into the world (13). He gets
credit also for supplying people with seeds, and making mountains and
rivers. He is intimately associated with a year of plenty. He is called
_Mchimwene juene_ (very chief).

_Chitowe_ (Siluwi) has not such a good character. He is associated with
famine. He is often represented as having one leg, one arm, one side of
his nose, and so on—the other half of his body being supplied by beeswax.
He is invoked by the women on the day of initiating (kuumbala) their
fields. The women of a village form a great procession when the new crop
has begun to grow. They chant a hymn to Chitowe, imploring him on behalf
of their crops. Chitowe may become a child or a young woman. In this
disguise he visits villages, and tells whether the coming year will bring
food or famine. He receives their hospitality, but throws the food over
his shoulder without eating it. Chitowe is a child or subject of Mtanga,
and some speak of several Chitowe who are messengers of Mtanga.

_Mpambe_ is often invoked by the Anyasa at great supplications for rain.
This Mpambe in the Yao language is “Njasi,” in English “Lightning”. The
Yao say that Mpambe is sent by Mtanga with rain. This is a mythological
expression of the fact that the lightning in this quarter is always
associated with rain.

This last example shows how natural it is for man to deify the powers he
sees around him. At first he is greatly touched with all the emotions of
“wonder, love, and awe,” as he considers how much he is indebted to the
shower that makes his food grow. He is ready to fall down and worship.
What shall he worship? The mountain whose lofty summit is clothed with
the rain cloud, or the lightning that springs from the cloud? He goes
over everything he can fairly associate with the rain, and still he is
not satisfied—he craves for something that can understand him.

He looks back to the days of his youth. He remembers a grandfather who
told how he had fled from the face of an oppressor, how he had built his
home far up near the mountain top, and there brought up his family in
safety. By and by as dangers passed away, this ancestor moved farther
down the mountain; gradually he increased in power, and in his old age
found himself the chief of a clan. Yet he never forgot the days of his
adventure, and ever pointed proudly to the spot where he had first found
a shelter; and his children’s children, as they listened to the old man’s
tale, counted the ground holy. The days come when they can see the old
man no more. “But does he not still exist? Yea—did we not hear his words
as we listened to sounds that played about the mountain side? Did we not
see him, though it was but for a moment, sitting beside his own home as
he used to sit long ago? He wore the very same dress. Did he not appear
to us in our dreams? There, too, we saw him moving beside his old home.
Yes, he is living on our mountain still.[6] He is taking care of us. He
knows when we need rain, and he sends it. We must give him something;
when he had corn he always gave us. Now, the poor man has no crop; but
perhaps his needs are many. We will give him food, we will give him
slaves, and he will not forget us.”

There is something full of pathos in the sight of a man invoking his
deceased relatives. He has got into great difficulty. None of his friends
can assist him, they hardly sympathise with him. His thoughts turn to
days when he had no difficulty, to the bright period of which, heathen
that he is, he can say, “Heaven is about us in our infancy”. He is so
sure that if he only had the grey-headed man that smiled on him then, all
his difficulties would vanish. That man could understand him, and believe
good of him as he did long ago. Could he but reach him across the portals
of the grave all would be well. Thus, with great earnestness, the native
turns to the spirits of his fathers.


13.—THE CREATION—COSMOLOGY.

The existence of the world itself is accepted as a fact not to be
explained. But there are legends that explain the introduction of the
sun, moon, and stars, clouds and rain; as also how mountains and rivers
appeared on the scene. Man, or at least the father of these central
tribes, sprang from a hole in a rock, from which the lower animals came
also. Around this hole there were abundant footprints of all kinds of
animals. It was closed by the people of Mulungu, and is now in a desert
place ‘towards the north’ (kumpoto). Subsequent to the appearance of man,
many changes occurred specially calculated for his benefit. Thus the
mist was sent to keep the sun from burning up the crops—an arrangement
that would readily commend itself to these philosophical children of the
tropics.

Their legends go on to state that the Wayao, Anyasa, Angulu, Awisa
and others sprang from a common stock, and to explain how the tribes
separated through one going to one side of the country and another to
another. The chief cause of such separations is said to be war. The Zulus
and the English belong, they say, to a different stock; where they came
from the natives cannot tell. They have a legend about Zulus (Mangoni)
coming out in great swarms near a large river; and another legend about a
black man crossing a bridge, as he looked round he was greatly astonished
to find that a white man (msungu) was following him. The white men are
represented as having staid longer with the people of God (Mulungu),
and learned more than the black men. With all due deference to the
toothless old man who told me that the Zulus are different from the Yao,
I am strongly of opinion that although their languages are not mutually
intelligible now, there was a time when their forefathers played together
by the same streams and hills; but this time is more remote than his
legend, which only explained when the Wanyasa separated from his tribe.




CHAPTER IV.

ON WORSHIP AND OFFERINGS—OCCASIONS FOR WORSHIP.

    “None shall appear before me empty.”—EXOD. 23, 15.


STARTING ON A JOURNEY (ULENDO), WAR, OR HUNTING EXPEDITION.


14.—PRAYERS AND OMENS.

When a man intends to set out on some expedition he goes to the chief
of his village, and tells him. The chief presents an offering (mbepesi)
to the spirit of his predecessor. This offering consists of a little
flour, which he puts down very slowly at the top of his bed, or he may
go to the verandah of the house of his deceased brother. As he puts down
the offering he recites the words, “My son has come, he goes a journey,
enlighten his eyes, preserve him on his journey, escort this child, may
he return with his head unscathed (literally ‘green,’ wa uwisi). Please,
please, let him undertake the journey, and be very successful.”

If the flour do not fall so as to form a cone with a fine point there
is a bad omen, and the journey is deferred. The remedy for this state
of matters is to resort to the oracle (chisango) (I). It is seldom,
however, that a bad omen is found at this stage, though some say it
is possible. The oracle will explain what is the cause of the bad
omen. Probably the man will be told to “try again”. If the cone form
beautifully on this occasion, then it will be clear that the god wanted
him merely to delay for a day or two, and for some good reason; but if
the cone still refuse to form, resort is again had to the oracle. The
oracle sets to work, and finds that some deceased relative has a hand in
this obstruction. This relative must be propitiated by an offering. Or it
maybe that a witch (msawi; Chinyasa, mfiti) is the cause of the trouble;
then it is the duty of the oracle to declare who the witch is. This leads
to a serious state of matters, which will very probably end in the death
of this witch.

A person cannot go to hunt with any assurance of safety till the witch
has drunk the poisoned cup (mwai).

We were much affected by a case of this kind that came under our notice.
A village chief, Matope, was led to believe that he was bewitched. First
his principal wife became seriously ill—the disease was consumption—she
was treated with the usual English remedies, and Mrs MacDonald made a bed
for her, which took the place of the hard mat upon which the poor native
lies down to die. As the native fare is hard as the native bed, and the
poor invalid could not relish it, we sent her some soup every day, as
well as sugar of which she was exceedingly fond. Ultimately the disease
ran its course, going through the same stages as the terrible malady does
in England. One day the husband came to me and said, “There is mourning
at our home”. The simple words revealed at once that the wife of the
village chief was dead.

We fully expected that, notwithstanding our remonstrances, some one would
be accused of causing her death through witchcraft; but perhaps owing to
the interest that we had taken in his wife all along, no one was accused
on this occasion. He had four wives besides, and he soon supplied the
place of the deceased by buying another wife, who was “very good to her
children”.

Then a little after, the son of one of his other wives having gone out at
midnight, a leopard came upon him and caught his foot just at the door
of the house as he was running in. The lad was badly bitten, and his
mother induced Matope to have resort to the usual methods of detecting
witchcraft; the result was that Matope’s own mother was pronounced a
witch. We were very sorry for the poor woman. She lived in another
village, over the stream from her son’s hamlet. She had always shown
us the greatest kindness and hospitality. She was fond of joking and
fun, but this sentence made her an object of dread and aversion. Every
native now shrunk from her, and her life became a burden. We tried to
do everything for her; we gave her presents; invited her to come and
see us, and cautioned her against drinking the poisoned cup. We made
the village chief promise that it would not be administered. The result
was that there was some delay in drinking the ordeal. We made every use
of this respite by talking on the matter with Kapeni, the chief of the
country, who was her brother, and who promised to use every influence
on her behalf. Her son, the village chief, was a very successful hunter.
During the delay he could not go to hunt. The superstition was too strong
for him. At the same time his mother was anxious to break the spell that
bound him, she was so sure that she was innocent. She drank the dangerous
cup and died, and however dearly the liberty was purchased, the hunter
could now go forth to his usual pursuit.

So much for the danger of being suspected of witchcraft, a suspicion
that might arise from flour not falling in the form of a cone. But it
is seldom that a bad omen arises while the chief is in the mere act of
putting down the flour. After the flour is put down, and has formed a
shapely cone, he carefully covers it with a pot, and leaves it all night.
During the night he may have a dream about the journey, and this will
decide his course. But if he is still undecided he visits his offering
early in the morning. Should he find that the cone of flour is broken
down on one side (mbali jimo jiwalwiche), that it has not its proper
point (lusonga), the omen is bad. The flour is thrown away in the bush,
the journey is forbidden by the spirit, and cannot be thought of; and
the result is an appeal to the oracle (chisango). But if the flour has
preserved its conical form the omen is good, the divinity has accepted
the present and granted the request. The village chief tells his man to
go forth with confidence.

The Wanyasa depend more upon the dream during night than the appearance
of the cone. Some of them say, “Of course, the flour will form a cone if
it is put down carefully, and the cone will maintain its form if the
rats are kept away”. The Magololo chiefs would not send their children to
school until they dreamt.

When the chief has decided on the journey he gives his man a thread
(lupota), which is tied round some part of his person, as a token that
the god goes along with the expedition. He may give an oil vessel
(chisasi) for a similar purpose. The man now takes the necessary supply
of food (inga) and fire-arms, bids his wives good-bye, and sets forth on
his journey.


15.—CEREMONIES OBSERVED BY THE WIVES OF TRAVELLERS.

The village chief may immediately call the wives that are left behind,
and advise each one to behave with discretion during her husband’s
absence, as otherwise she may mar his domestic peace, or even cause
his death (82). These wives must observe certain customs during their
husbands’ absence. If at any time one of them have a dream she must
present a private offering. (In describing the worship connected with
a journey, we have been assuming all along that the expedition is of
interest to the village chief. This is nearly always the case, for one
thing the chief wishes to pray that his villager may be safely restored
to him). Should a man undertake a journey that is entirely private, then
he may perform the offering himself, or ask his wife to do it for him.
They would put down the flour, and watch the formation of the cone as the
chief does. All the particulars connected with the success and failure
of omens are the same, and if they are relatives of the chief the god
invoked is the same. If they are not related to the chief they may pray
not to the god of the village, but to the god of their own family.

While a woman’s husband is absent she goes without anointing her head or
washing her face. She must not bathe, she scarcely washes her arms, she
must not cut her hair. Her oil vessel (chisasi) is kept full of oil till
his return, and may be hung up in the house or kept by the side of her
bed. This neglect commences, according to some, as soon as her husband
has gone. Others allow the moon “to die”; they wait for the new moon
before they begin this species of mourning (kuwindika). It continues till
the husband return.


16.—KICKING AGAINST THE STUMPS.

The expedition has started at last—surely all detention from bad omens
is at an end. By no means. In a few days the leader of the expedition
may appear at the village with all his men. He has hurt his toe on the
stump of a tree (chisichi)! The natives, in preparing their ground for
cultivation, cut down nearly all the trees. They do not cut close to
the earth as an English forester would do. They find it much easier to
cut the tree at a thinner part, and leave a stump. Such stumps are all
over the cultivated land, and are often found on the footpaths. If a
superstitious man strike his foot on one of these at the beginning of an
important journey, he considers it to be ominous of evil.

When Julius Cæsar was landing in Africa with his army, he stumbled and
fell. This was an unhappy omen. But his presence of mind gave it another
turn. He cried out, “Oh, Africa, I embrace thee”. The less superstitious
natives calm their fears by a similar method. While some speak with bated
breath of the danger of picking up a buck that died of itself, others
say “We always pick them up and eat them, and are very glad to have the
chance”.

If a superstitious man kick against the stumps, there is no hope for his
expedition, he goes back, and the affair is referred to the oracle in the
usual way.

A man whose heart is set upon a journey is sometimes wicked enough to
disregard an unfavourable omen. His men call his attention to it, and
he says “Yes, it is a very unlucky thing; we shall go to the oracle as
soon as we return!” This is an evasion nearly as bad as that of the Roman
General, who, when told by the soothsayer that the sacred chickens would
not eat, said that he would make them drink, and kicked them overboard.
Whether the consequences to the native that treats the omens in this
off-hand manner are always as serious as they were to the Roman we have
not heard. The native who has an unfavourable omen is not at ease in his
mind; but we think that these superstitions will soon be overcome in the
minds of future generations.


17.—ILL-OMENED SNAKES.

Some of the strongest superstitions are associated with snakes. If a
snake of bad omen, as a sato (python) or a lukukuti, cross the path
of a traveller, it is a sign that he will meet with disaster on his
journey, and at once he returns to his home. But if the traveller is
already on his return journey he does not go back, but goes on to his
village expecting to find that everything has gone wrong there. This omen
generally betokens a death at the village. If the snake is seen on the
right hand, the omen betokens that there is some danger on that side of
the road, and similarly if the snake is seen on the left.

Regarding this form of superstition, I once asked a native that strongly
professed his belief in it, whether he would turn back on meeting a snake
in his way if I gave him a letter for Zomba, and told him that it had to
go on quickly. He said, “No; he would not turn back when a white man sent
him.” Why? “Because,” he said, “you would laugh at me, and ask why I had
not brought the snake home for a specimen!”

When a sungula (rabbit) crosses the path it betokens that the chief will
die.

There is a great number of similar superstitions. But it is noteworthy
that there is no such superstition about thunder as was among the Romans.
To them thunder is ever welcome, associated as it is with refreshing
showers.

When the men have been gone some days the villagers conclude that the
journey is prospering—the god is accompanying the party. If the chief
want to send out others before this party come back, he must send another
spirit with them, and there will be no difficulty in finding several
suitable escorts among the spirits of his deceased relatives.

After the caravan has been gone for some time the villagers begin to
anticipate its return, and to talk of the wealth that it will bring. It
may be a hunting expedition, or a journey to the coast to buy beads and
cloth, guns and powder, in exchange for ground nuts, slaves, or ivory.
As the caravan approaches the village, the news of its arrival goes on
before quick as lightning. All eyes are turned toward the direction
where the long absent ones are expected to appear. Already some of the
villagers are rushing forth to meet them. The returning party fires a
salute; the guns of the village reply. All are in ecstacies of joy. The
women run out with handfuls of flour, and sprinkle on the heads of the
returning heroes. The caravan goes on amid shouts of joy, straight to the
village chief, and deposits the goods under his care.


18.—THANKOFFERING.

The chief immediately makes an acknowledgement to the spirit that
escorted the party. He goes to one of his wives and asks her for flour
that he may present an offering. He puts down part of this flour in the
same way as he did when the expedition started. Then he wets the rest of
the flour, and puts it down beside the dry portion. This water-and-flour
is supplementary to the dry offering (mesi gakwe). As he presents it he
says, “Now we are happy, my children have come back, you have given us
much.” When he has finished he claps his hands as a salutation to the
spirit, and retires. This expression of thanksgiving is generally made in
a private manner.


PUBLIC REJOICING.

Now begins a season of public rejoicing. The whole hamlet makes high
holiday. The women may now bathe, and cut their hair, and anoint their
bodies with oil. So may their returned husbands. During their journey
these men had refrained from using salt. They were afraid to use it (82),
for they said, “Perhaps our wives are not behaving well in our home,
and we shall die”. Now the chief prepares a great banquet, and calls a
medicine man, who puts a charm into the food; the travellers eat of this,
and henceforth they may use salt freely.

A large quantity of beer is brewed, and as soon as it is ready the chief
and all his visitors go to the verandah of the house of the deceased
chief, where all larger offerings are presented. They carry flour and
beer, and perhaps some such offering as tobacco. The chief is the first
to invoke the spirit saying, “Please, please, Ching’ombe,” or whatever
the name may be, “here is beer for you, drink it, we want to live well
at our village, and to drink in peace”. He will mention also the happy
circumstances connected with the expedition, and hint mildly that when
another expedition is necessary they will look for a similar service from
the spirit. The sister of the deceased chief will also be an offerer,
and any others who may be closely related. They first put down a little
offering of flour, and then each takes a cup of beer to pour on the
ground as a libation. After the others have presented their offerings the
chief finishes the worship by presenting all that is left.

Many guests may be invited. Any that happen to arrive before the offering
has been given will accompany the party that goes to present it. All
in the village may be present at this offering. It is a kind of public
worship. Whatever may be the rank of his guests it is the village chief
himself that acts as high priest. Even the chief of the whole country
if present would only stand and look on. As soon as the offering is
finished, the beer drinking begins. Great is the rejoicing in the village.

If an expedition were unsuccessful, if, for instance, some one died or
goods were lost, instead of this rejoicing there would be a mourning. The
god would be considered to have deceived them, and behaved very badly.

After the expedition has been the occasion of a public rejoicing, the
god is acquitted of all blame. Yet, strange to say, many successful
expeditions of this kind—especially when they have been to the coast with
slaves and ivory—are the most unfortunate things that could happen to
a district. Soon after the beer drinking is over, the goods have to be
divided, and in a large proportion of cases so great contentions arise
that the chiefs kingdom is divided also.

Other occasions for approaching the gods occur in cases of sickness (19)
or famine (20). On these we shall not dwell so long, as the foregoing
principles generally apply.


19.—SICKNESS.

When a man is ill he puts down an offering to his deceased father or
mother, saying, “I wish to give you a sacrifice; can you tell us what you
want? and I will bring it you”. He first gives this offering himself. He
may say, “I am very ill, I wish you to restore me; perhaps a witch wants
to kill me, restrain this”. Then he looks for a good dream. An offering
of flour is put at the side of his pillow to tempt the spirit to come. If
the spirit come not, he tells the chief of his village, who may give an
offering in like manner, or he may go at once to the sorcerer (mchisango)
and say “We want to see the spirit that has been invoked”. After making
inquiries, the sorcerer says the spirit wants such and such; then the
required offering is given. If the sick man recover, the matter rests
there. In cases that are more serious, the sorcerer will tell him that
bad spirits (masoka) have got into his house, that some one has bewitched
the house and all his usual places of resort, that he must have another
house in the fields. There are other manifest advantages attending this
retreat from the busy village.

A house in the fields is built and prepared perhaps that very day. We
have not known many cases where the invalid ever returned. Sometimes a
poor consumptive patient, when removed to such a house, is drenched with
rain, as the thatch is not so good as on the other house.


REJOICING ON HIS RETURN.

Great is the rejoicing on the invalid’s return to the village, if ever
he return again. Much beer is brewed. The usual sacrifices are given to
his god. The recovered patient says, “Now I am happy, I have health;
drink you this beer”. Mats are spread out, he sits down upon one, and the
physician (msing’anga) is called to his side. The physician pours beer on
his patient, and after that, water, and then begins to shave his head.
The physician does not present any offering to the village god; but he
gives a thank-offering at his own home to his own gods. He returns thanks
that “he found medicine for yonder sick man”.


20.—PUBLIC SUPPLICATION FOR RAIN.

We have seen how the natives invoke the gods when they pray for a
prosperous expedition (14) and for health (19). We shall now see what
they do when they pray for a good crop—which generally means, in their
country, praying for rain.

When there is no rain at the proper season there ensues much distress.
Famine is dreaded above all other evils. After private offerings
have all failed the chief of the country calls a national meeting
for supplication. Much beer is brewed and offered to the spirit. The
chief addresses his own god; he calls on him to look at the sad state
of matters for himself, and think of the evils that are impending. He
requests him to hold a meeting with all the other gods that have an
interest or influence in the matter. A council of the gods is believed
to be held, and if any god act as an obstructive he is specially
propitiated according to the direction of the prophetess.

After the supplication there is a great dance in honour of the god. The
people throw up water towards the heavens as a sign that it is water that
is prayed for. They also smear their bodies with mud or charcoal to show
that they want “washing”. If rain do not come they must wash themselves
in the rivers or streams. If rain fall, they are soon washed in answer to
their prayers. When the good crop follows, they present as a thanksgiving
the first heads of maize and some pumpkins. Before they begin to eat
the maize themselves some of the cobs are roasted and offered under the
prayer tree (4). In smaller crops, as beans, there is no special offering.

In the South of Africa the power of rain-making has been claimed
completely by the rain-doctors. Even here the sorcerers have a great
power. Still the chief maintains what we think must have been his
prerogative in the earliest times. Does this not shew that these races
are a stage nearer the primitive manners than in the South where such a
priesthood has been developed?

DREAMS afford another occasion for offerings (41).


THE NATURE OF THE OFFERINGS. GENERAL OFFERINGS.


21.—THE NATIVE FLOUR.

Of the ordinary offerings to the gods (which are just the ordinary food
of the people), flour is the commonest. The natives eat it themselves
in the form of porridge, but they never present it thus to the spirits
except on the day of a person’s death, or by special request. This
offering, though common, is not made ready without a great deal of
trouble. The poor native woman seems to be occupied at milling flour from
morning to night. The process is like this—First, she takes corn from the
cob, puts it into a mortar with some water, and begins pounding to remove
the husks (maseta). These are separated by sifting (kupeta). She next
puts the husked grain (msokolo) again in the mortar, and does as before.
By this time all the husks are off. After this the corn is steeped in
water for some time, when it is called mlowe. This she puts into a mortar
without water, and pounds again. When the third pounding is finished, she
resorts to another process of sifting (kusenyenda) and obtains flour,
which may be broken down to any degree of fineness by repeated pounding.
Many harder portions (lusenga) need pounding again.

This native flour is given to the spirits (misimu) either quite dry or
with a little water stirred into it.


22.—NATIVE BEER.

The beer is made from maize or millet (D).

It is not like English beer. It is really a thin gruel, and serves for
food as well as for drink. It is a very wholesome beverage for the
natives, and it is well that they use it rather than other stimulants.
The natives have a great desire for wine or brandy (they apply the
Brazilian word Kachaso to everything of this kind). We may illustrate
how far this craving exists by mentioning how often chiefs and headmen
request Kachaso. Sometimes we have prepared a little tincture of ginger,
and seen it greedily drunk. Mrs. MacDonald was one day clearing out
old bottles, a few of which contained lime juice in the bottom, and
it was sad to notice how the persons that received these bottles were
entreated by others “to give them some of the brandy”. When a person
was thus entreated, even after he had tasted the old rotten stuff, he
said he had only a very little for himself, and hastened away as if
determined to enjoy it alone! When we were on the Kwagwa River, a little
above Quillimane, much merchandise was brought, and the first thing
that was asked in payment was kachaso. The boatmen between Quillimane
and the Missions were in danger of doing a great deal of harm in this
way, as they brought up rum and such stuff, and traded on their own
responsibility. Chiefs can procure kachaso readily enough, especially
from the slave traders. One time at Blantyre there was hardly a drop of
wine for a whole year, but the chief of Sochi had obtained some, and sent
a messenger to us to ask for wine glasses! Another chief that we had
opened up intercourse with, sent us a bottle of rum as a return present.
Of course everyone gives things that have thus passed through the hands
of the natives the cold shoulder, as it is not known what they are made
of!

The temptation to drunkenness is one of the most terrible that the
country can be exposed to. The natives go down before this temptation
at once. A great deal of their drinking is an aping of the manners of
Europeans as seen on the coast. We think that the civilisation of this
race should be accomplished by total abstainers if possible. People who
tamper with the natives by offering them brandy or by mixing wine and rum
that they may make them drunk for their own amusement, are exceedingly
thoughtless. In this country, unfortunately, any one can sell as much
liquor as he likes without paying any license: and the effect of drinking
brandy or such stimulants is sometimes very deplorable. One of the
Magololo Chiefs or Headmen, as reported to me, seemed to go quite mad
when he received a supply of brandy. He went about killing his people
for the purpose of amusement, much in the manner of King Mtesa. On
such occasions there used to be a great rush of people to the Mission,
representing that their chief had drunk brandy, had killed very many of
their friends, and wanted to kill them. They implored the protection of
the Mission in the most earnest manner.


23.—THE EFFECTS OF NATIVE BEER.

But the native beer does not produce such serious consequences, although
many fights and wars arise out of it. One must drink a great deal before
it intoxicates, and by the time a man has consumed half a barrel of gruel
he will be more inclined to sleep than to quarrel. Should he simply talk
nonsense, his more sober friends pay little attention to him. At a great
beer-drinking the guests may lie down and sleep where they were drinking.

What do the natives think of the crime of drunkenness? When asked, “Do
you say a man has a bad heart if he gets drunk on beer?” they reply “No;
he may not have a bad heart”. But on further questioning they insist that
such a man has certainly “a very bad head!”


24.—BEER AS AN OFFERING.

We have seen how the flour is used, both as an offering and as a sort of
oracle according to the way in which it falls—according as it forms a
cone or not. The beer may be used in the same way, both as offering and
oracle. If when poured on the ground it sink into one spot as it would
do in sandy soil, then the deity receives it, but if it spread over the
ground there is a bad omen. Beer-drinkings may be held on the conclusion
of favourable journeys and on many other occasions. Besides there may be
beer drinking without any special reason, as when a man wants to treat
his friends: but even in this case there is an offering.

As soon as the beer is ready the man goes to the village chief and
carries some with him. The village chief presents this offering to the
village god. There is no special prayer, except “I want that my beer may
be sweet”. After the village chief comes back from the offering he drinks
some of the beer himself, and declares the feast open. Among others the
custom is simply for the brewer of beer himself to put down a little in
his own house, with a prayer to the spirit that his beer may be sweet.


25.—SPECIAL OFFERINGS.

All the offerings are supposed to point to some wants of the spirit. If
a spirit were to come saying, “I want calico,” his friends would “just
say that he was mad,” and would not give it. “Why should he want calico?
What would he do with it? There was calico buried with him when he died,
and he cannot need more again.” But if the request is at all reasonable
(as when an old hunter asks animal food), it will be quickly attended
to, and personal taste carefully consulted. In cases of this kind they
may anticipate his wishes. When a deceased smoker wants tobacco his
worshippers put it on a plate and set fire to it. If a spirit ask a house
they will build him one.

It is a general rule that these special offerings are in answer to
special requests, and such special requests are made known either by the
oracle (chisango), or by dreams, or by the prophetess. The requests of a
more serious character, involving the sacrifice of human beings, are made
known chiefly through the prophetess (5, 3).

Near Lake Moere the people have idols that represent a departed father or
mother. They present them with beer, flour, bhang, and light a fire for
them to smoke by.—(Livingstone).

We shall now say a little about such special offerings and the way of
presenting them.


26.—OFFERING OF A FOWL.

They generally kill the fowl by wringing its neck. Some speak of cutting
its throat, and making the blood flow down. This is akin to an Arab
method, but as the natives practice their offerings this custom is
neither essential nor common. When the fowl is killed they simply lay it
down at the prayer tree (4). If it be taken away during the night the
spirit has accepted it. If it be known to have been carried away by a
leopard, the leopard was commissioned by the spirit, or if the deceased
was a hunter he may himself have taken the form of a leopard. The fowl
may lie till the ants eat it, and the offerers are quite satisfied. This
fowl may be given uncooked, or it may be either roasted or boiled as
indicated in the request made for it.


27.—OFFERING OF A GOAT.

A goat may be offered in the same way, only it is not likely that the
whole animal will be given, unless the offerer is very rich. One leg is
usually sent to the spirit, while the remainder is eaten by the villagers
themselves. In conversing with natives on these offerings, we have often
inquired whether the person that advises the offering may not sometimes
appropriate it, and thus cheat the spirit for whom it was intended. We
have often thought that the bones of these offerings might play a great
part in the superstitions connected with cannibalism and witchcraft
(107). The same might be said of the bones of human beings (28) that are
thus sacrificed; but the bones of the lower animals would do as well for
imposing on natives, who are not anatomists enough to know the difference.

It is not considered necessary that these offerings be taken away by
the spirits. It is sufficient that they are placed there, and that the
spirits may come and lick them.


28.—OFFERINGS OF HUMAN BEINGS.

Sometimes the prophetess will announce that the spirit demands the
offering of a man or a woman. As soon as this intimation has been given
all set upon the victim that may have been indicated. If wanted for a
deity residing on a mountain, the victim is stripped, his garments are
cut up into narrow bands, with which the legs and arms are secured. The
victim is not killed, but tied to a tree. If a beast of prey come during
the night and devour the unfortunate being the deity has accepted the
offering. Where wild animals are not abundant a little house is built on
the hill side, and the person with his legs and arms securely fastened,
is put inside and left to die of hunger.

If the deity live beside a lake or river, the man or woman, after being
stripped, and having the legs and arms securely fastened, is tied to a
large stone and thrown into the lake or river. The crocodiles may seize
the offering at once, but in any case death is the certain result, as the
stone prevents the victim from swimming.

The victims in such cases are usually slaves; but if a freeman were
to set fire to the grass or reeds beside a lake, and cause a great
conflagration close to the chosen abode of the deity, he is liable to
be offered up to the god that is thus annoyed; but if he be the owner
of many slaves he can easily redeem himself, one of his slaves will be
offered instead, and something paid to the prophetess to facilitate the
transaction.

The vast immolations of human beings made at the grave of a chief we
shall consider under another heading (32).




CHAPTER V.

CEREMONIES CONNECTED WITH DEATH.

    “Qualis vita Finis ita.”


29.—TRANSITION FROM THE SUPERNATURAL.

We have now spoken of the gods—their nature and number—their prophets and
priests, the occasions of their worship, and the nature of the offerings.
This finishes what we have to say on the supernatural. Before descending
to the natural, we shall cross the dark border-land that lies between.

This border-land is Death (30-43). By and by we shall reach what we may
call the Natural (44 and seq.) By the time we reach section 103 we shall
have brought before the reader many things that he may class as the
Unnatural.

To shew that there is nothing so very unusual among these African tribes,
let us remark that in that model of ancient civilisation—the Roman
Republic—prisoners were slain at the tombs of heroes that fell in battle,
and slaves were sacrificed at the funerals of all rich people. The
advance of civilisation allowed such victims to kill each other, when the
custom gave rise to the exhibition of gladiators.


30.—ILLNESS.

We have seen already (19) that a sick man may be removed from his village
to a solitary hut in the fields, and that he may return in good health;
but very often when a man leaves his village for this solitude he never
comes back. We have mentioned that the diviner or oracle-man may be able
to cope with the witch who is the main cause of the man’s illness, but
very often the diviner fails entirely, and the disease takes its course.

There is another man, the herbalist or physician (jua sing’anga) that is
often called in, and to whom we have already alluded; he carries on his
cures by the use of charms, which in many cases are really medicines (I).
When a person is sick his friends go in search of a physician.

They generally carry a present for him. He considers for a little, and
gives his answer which may be, “I refuse to attend this patient; I cannot
do you any good. The witch that has taken him on hand has medicine more
powerful than mine.” On other occasions he is more hopeful, and will try.
He goes to the woods and the fields and searches for medicines, and then
comes with them to his patient. If the patient recover the mediciner gets
a large fee, but if the patient die he gets nothing; on the contrary,
an unsuccessful physician may be accused of murder, and we have known a
great fine paid for the crime. We only knew of one case of this kind,
and the victim was an English doctor. We do not think the occurrence is
at all so likely in purely native cases. But in other parts of Africa a
mediciner may pay for the patient’s death with his own life.

All the natives soon become very disheartened when they fall sick,
chiefly owing to the fear that they have become the prey of some cruel
witch.


31.—DEATH.

Every charm has failed, the attendants see that the end is near, the sick
man too is aware that he is leaving this world. In civilised countries
many a man toils for fame. He would regard himself happy if he were sure
that he would be remembered after death. The dying man before us has
this fame ready made for him. He knows that after his death he will be
worshipped as a god. Does this make his death bed happier? Do his last
thoughts turn with delight to the prospect? Alas, no! The poor man would
live longer if he could, and the last desire he expresses is generally
this, “You will take care of my children when I am in the grave,” then he
enters on the dark journey alone.


32.—SLAVES ESCORT THE DECEASED.

Did we say he went forth alone? This shall not be, if his friends can
help it. His death must be concealed for a few minutes. If he be a
man of some property in slaves, and belong to a certain family of the
Wayao tribe (say to the Abanda or the Amilansi), he will have a great
many slaves to accompany him. Some of the attendants leave the dead man
at once. If any of his slaves are sitting outside the house they are
told that their master is better, that he is doing well; but suddenly a
capture begins, and many slaves of the deceased are made fast in slave
sticks. When their master is buried they will be put in the grave along
with him.

This terrible custom does not prevail among all the families of the Wayao
tribe, but where it does, as many as ten slaves may be killed to follow
an important chief, and rather fewer to accompany one who is not so rich.
Kapeni, a chief that belongs to the Abanda family, told me that he was
going to give up this custom now because of the English; but not a few
of the slave refugees at Blantyre have run away from his dominions to
escape the dreadful fate. Though the chief were opposed to the practice
himself, he would not regularly interfere between his people and their
own slaves or goods. It is said that the slaves must be caught before
they have taken part in the mourning. This furnishes one escape for them.
If they run away and stay till the funeral rites are over, they will be
comparatively safe on their return. But they are liable to be sent after
their master (28) if he should ask for them.

The practice of sending messengers to the world beyond the grave is found
on the West Coast. A chief summons a slave, delivers to him a message,
and then cuts off his head. If the chief forget anything that he wanted
to say, he sends another slave as a “postscript”.


33.—WAILING AT THE DOOR.

If the man do not belong to the families that require an “escort,” the
mourning begins as soon as he is dead. There is no stratagem practised
for catching slaves. One of his wives has likely been in attendance,
and she will raise the sad wail, which is heard afar off, and is easily
recognised. A great assembly of mourners is soon collected. The mourning
consists of plaintive chants, drumming, and dancing. If powder be
available a great many guns are fired that people at a distance may say,
“there is a mourning in yonder village”. This is called the “mourning
at the door” of the house (ku mlango), and continues until the deceased
is buried, which may be in one or two days. In the case of an important
person, the mourning at the door may be continued for five or ten days,
or even for a month. In mourning the Wayao put flour on their heads, the
Achikunda, I have observed, doing this at what was quite an ordinary
dance, so far as I could see. The Anyasa put strips of bark round their
arms and various parts of their body. If it be a chief that has died they
use strips of cloth instead. One time we tried to buy some badges of
mourning, made of plaited grass, but were told that the wearers would not
part with them. They are worn till they fall off.


34.—THE UNDERTAKERS—THEIR DUTIES AT THE HOUSE.

Soon after life is extinct the undertakers (awilo) are sent for. They
are generally two in number. As a rule they are not relatives of the
deceased, though from the derivation of their name I think they may have
been so originally (kuwila, compare juakuwilwa, bereaved). Some make
it a point that the undertakers must not have seen the deceased during
his illness, but this is not universally observed. In some families the
slaves of the deceased are the undertakers, and the slaves of a deceased
chief may invest his successor with the insignia of office.

The undertakers wash the body (mtembo) of the deceased. For this purpose
they use water from the stream—the ordinary water used at the village
(if the deceased be a woman her body is first partially washed by female
attendants). They close the eyes; some fail in this, and are considered
unskilful. They dress the body in calico, covering it all except the
eyes and the upper part of the face, which may be left uncovered until
they are on the point of carrying it to the graveyard. They tie up the
deceased in a mat, the very mat which was his deathbed. The Wayao are
buried with the legs bent, the Wanyasa with the legs straight. When
all these ceremonies have been finished, the undertakers come out of
the house and wash their hands, not in ordinary water but in water of
medicine, “because they handled a corpse”.


35.—PROLONGED WAILING.

If the wailing is to continue for a long time they procure the bark of
a large tree and encase the body therein. The body is then set in a
position nearly upright; a hole is dug in the floor of the house so that
the putrid matter may drop (kusulula) into it. Should the body be in
an advanced state of decomposition, they burn Indian hemp (chamba), and
carry beside it on the way to the grave, this is done to neutralise the
smell. But in cases of prolonged mourning the deceased is often buried in
his own house.


36.—DEATH IN WAR.

If a man be killed in war, his friends, if they can procure his body at
all, do not “show it at the village,” but bury it on the war path. If his
enemies find the body they disembowel it and cut off the head, taking
certain parts for charms. Enemies allow no burial, but cast forth the
mangled remains to the vultures and other carrion eaters.

When a man is wounded in an engagement he is carried back, not to his own
dwelling—there are bad spirits in it—but to a little hut made ready for
him in the bush (19) at some distance from the village.

If a person die through drinking mwai (and this constitutes an enormous
percentage of the older natives), he is denied the ordinary rights of
sepulture. Several years ago the burning of witches was practised. At
present this would not be done unless the witch refused the poisoned cup,
which she is, on the contrary, most eager to drink to show her innocence.


37.—JOURNEY TO THE GRAVE.

When the ‘mourning at the door’ is finished they proceed to the grave. A
large bamboo is passed along the body, and projects beyond the coffin
or mat (ugono), both behind and before, and the body is carried shoulder
high. One of the undertakers carries at the head, and the other at the
feet. The undertakers have the charge of carrying the body to the grave,
although others may assist, but there is not so much changing as is seen
in Scotch funerals. A large procession of men and women now set forth
to follow the deceased to his last resting place. They have a drum with
them, and march to certain very plaintive and not unmelodious chants.

Some of the men carry hoes to dig the grave, and a small bowl or basket
(chiselo) to throw out the earth. They carry also an axe to prepare
palisades for the sides of the grave. The women follow in the rear,
carrying some porridge, with the usual relish (mboga), as also a pot
of beer. It is not every one that is allowed to follow the funeral
procession—a person that has not been at the mysteries may not go. Thus
a boy of six years may have a brother or a playmate die, but he will not
be allowed to accompany the funeral party. No one that is very closely
related to the deceased will go to the grave. A father will not go to the
funeral of his child, nor a husband to that of his wife; but, in cases
of poverty where there is difficulty in employing undertakers, or if the
death take place on a journey, the nearest relatives have to be present
at the funeral rites; but in ordinary circumstances, if they follow the
remains at all, they turn back at the chikomo, that is, the path that
leads from the village to the main road. A mother is allowed to go to
the funeral of her child only if it die in infancy. One reason why the
chief relative of the deceased does not go to the grave is that he has to
prosecute the witch that caused the death: going to the grave would unfit
him for the task.


38.—DIGGING THE GRAVE.

The grave is not dug nor marked out at all, till the funeral party
arrive. On their arrival the body is laid down on the ground under the
shade of a large tree, and the grave-digging begins. As hoes are the
implements used, the process takes a long time. It often begins about
noon, and is not concluded till night. No one enters the grave except the
undertakers. After a sufficient depth has been reached they bring forward
the body to measure whether the size and shape of the grave will exactly
suit. After this measuring is completed the body is again laid aside out
of the hot rays of the sun. By and by other men are at work with an axe
cutting pieces of trees to form a kind of palisade round the inside of
the grave. The shaping of these sticks takes a long time. The structure
when finished resembles the piling used to keep the banks of a river
from falling in or being washed away. It forms the sides of a strong
wooden house which is erected over the body. When these posts have been
securely fixed two forked sticks are driven into the ground, one at each
end of the grave. The body is then lowered, and the forked sticks receive
the projecting parts of the bamboo that carried it to the grave. The
body when lowered is suspended between these forked sticks, and remains
hanging without touching the ground. Other logs are put above so as to
form the roof of this strong wooden house, and afterwards the earth is
filled in; only before filling it in they have certain articles to bury
with the deceased.

The wooden house is for the purpose of keeping away the witch who caused
the death, and who now wishes to eat the flesh of her victim. It serves
to keep away carrion eaters of all kinds, for the witch may assume the
shape of a hyena.


39.—OFFERINGS AT THE GRAVE.

Along with the deceased is buried a considerable part of his property.
We have already seen that his bed is buried with him, so also are all
his clothes. If he possesses several tusks of ivory one tusk or more is
ground (siaga) to a powder between two stones and put beside him. Beads
are also ground down in the same way. These precautions are taken to
prevent the witch from making any use of the ivory or beads.

If the deceased owned several slaves an enormous hole is dug for a grave.
The slaves that were caught immediately on his death are now brought
forward. They may be either cast into the pit alive, or the undertakers
may cut all their throats. The body of their master or their mistress is
then laid down to rest above theirs, and the grave is covered in.

After this the women come forward with the offerings of food, and place
at the head of the grave. The dishes in which the food was brought are
left behind. The pot that held the drinking water of the deceased and
his drinking cup are also left with him. These, too, might be coveted by
the witch, but a hole is pierced in the pot, and the drinking calabash is
broken.

The man has now gone from the society of the living, and he is expected
to share the meal thus left at his grave with those that have gone before
him. The funeral party breaks up; they do not want to visit the grave
of their friend again without a very good reason. Any one found among
the graves may be taken for a cannibal (107). Their friend has become
a citizen of a different village. He is with all his relatives of the
past. He is entitled to offerings or presents, which may come to him
individually or through his chief. These offerings in most cases he will
share with others, just as he used to do when alive (10).


40.—TAKING DOWN THE HOUSE.

    “It is unclean. And he shall break down the house ... and he
    shall carry them (the stones, timber, and mortar) forth out of
    the city into an unclean place.”—LEV. xiv., 44, 45.

The day after the remains have been committed to the grave the
undertakers see to the destruction of the house that was occupied by the
dead man. The house of the deceased is always taken down whether he died
in it or not. No one will live in that house on any consideration. The
spirit (Mulungu) of the deceased would be very angry with the man who
did so, and would say, “This man is glad that I died that he might enter
my house”. If he possessed a great many houses it is the house of his
principal wife that he is most identified with. Her house is taken down,
and the houses of his other wives are left.

The fabric is demolished very effectually. The foundations are dug out
of the ground. Any remains of the deceased man’s food, the ashes of his
fire, and the thatch of the roof are carried away and burned at a cross
road (malekano) that the spirit of the deceased, or the evil spirits that
caused his death, may enter some of these paths.

When the house is broken down, the parts of it not carried away are
buried, the place where it stood is swept all over, fresh earth is put
on, the spot is considered sacred. All the children are warned that they
must not play on this ground. A pot is put down to receive offerings
of beer, and when any special offering is given to the deceased it is
usually presented here (4). If this place become too public (as when
children play near and send dust into the pot), the pot will be placed
under a tree at a little distance from the village.

The man may be buried in his own dwelling. In this case the house is not
taken down, but is generally covered with cloth, and the verandah becomes
the place for presenting offerings. His old house thus becomes a kind of
temple (chilisi cha nguo). There may be cases also where the deceased is
buried in the village, although not in his own house. In such cases a new
house will be raised above the remains.

When the house is taken down the funeral rites (mtembo) are finished.

An important feature in these observances is that the relatives of
the deceased have their heads shaved. There are a great many absurd
regulations that could not be published, with reference to burying the
hair. Some of it is buried at the place where the house of the deceased
stood. A second shaving takes place after their hair grows again (43).

When a chief or headman dies the village is often entirely forsaken.


41.—CANONISED.

The deceased is now in the spirit world, and receives offerings and
adoration. He is addressed as “Our great spirit that has gone before.”
(Msimu wetu wokulungwa ulongolele).

He has now a certain power over the lives and destinies of his surviving
relatives. If any one dream of him it is at once concluded that the
spirit is “up to something”. Very likely he wants to have some of the
survivors for his companions. The dreamer hastens to appease the spirit
by an offering.


42.—CONTINUANCE OF MOURNING.

But the mourning, as distinct from the funeral rites, is not yet
finished. The surviving relatives do not wash their faces or anoint their
bodies with oil, neither do they cut their hair until the great day of
the second shaving (43). Sometimes they eat no salt, use no warm food,
and drink no beer. Cases of this kind are among the nearest approaches
to fasting that we met with in the country. If a friend come to see
them he will get his porridge warm, but the mourners wait until theirs
cool. On the day of the wailing at the door the undertakers may give a
dispensation from some of these penalties by putting salt in a common
mess of food. If a man have been absent from this dispensation he must
follow customs like the above.

The duration of this mourning may be two months, or even more. The chief
of the country, especially if related to the deceased (which he may well
be if the deceased was a man of great influence), may have a voice in
determining how long the mourning is to continue. In more humble life the
relative of most influence would be consulted.


43.—END OF MOURNING.

After two or three months have passed, there is a great gathering. This
is the day on which the mourning is formally ended. Already you hear them
beginning to sing “Iya! iya! ungolele ukana;” to which the response is,
“O manja o,” while the undertakers respond, “O Kangolele.” This is, in
fact, quite a drinking song, like “Willie brewed a peck o’ maut,” and
shows that the party are not to sit and mourn for ever. On this day much
beer is brought, and the deceased’s spirit is especially remembered, and
is considered to partake in the festivities.

The undertakers come back. One of their duties is to see to the second
shaving of the heads of the dead man’s relatives. They take off a little
of the hair in the front and a little on the back of the head (kukawa),
and others complete the shaving. The hair is buried again at the house,
where the deceased relative receives his offerings, or in the bush.


ENTERING ON INHERITANCE.

On the day of the second shaving the successors of the deceased enter
upon their inheritance. They take possession of the deceased man’s wives
and whatever property he may have. This day is a great marriage feast in
one aspect. Now the services of the undertakers are at an end; they have
been feasted sumptuously throughout, and are now paid.




CHAPTER VI.

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.


44.—BIRTH.

When the time of a child’s birth draws near, the mother does not stay
in her house, or even in the village. Accompanied by one or two female
friends, she goes forth to seek the retirement of the great forest. As a
rule she will soon be able to return, but if the delivery be protracted
it is usual to apply to a physician, who sends a medicine to drink, which
is viewed as a charm. Though the native women are generally hardy, it
would not do to assume that they are entirely made of iron. Many poor
women suffer severely, and die in the bush, the child being generally
unborn.


45.—THE INFANT.

On the birth of the child, one of the female friends takes it and carries
it to the village. The mother is able to accompany on foot. In the case
of a first-born child, the party is met with considerable rejoicing, in
which the grandmother of the child takes a prominent part, and raises the
song, Ngwete chisukulu none sechelele, “I have got a grandchild, let me
rejoice”. On arriving, mother and child are put into a house, where they
stay from three to six days. No one enters their abode except the elder
women (achakulungwa).

After this there is the ceremony of introducing the child into the
world—bringing out the little stranger to public notice. The head of
the mother is shaved, as also the head of the child. The child is now
named. Both mother and child come out of the house, and are received with
rejoicing, at which the elder women are present. The mother has received
a medicine or charm, in which the child has to be washed for a great many
months to come.

If the child should die before being brought out of the house it receives
no mourning. The relatives do not shave their heads on account of it,
nor do they present offerings to its spirit. But if it has been brought
out of the house, even if it should survive but a very short time, the
usual mourning is held, and offerings are presented to it, especially by
the mother. Such a denizen of the spirit world is supposed to be able to
affect the fortunes of the survivors; besides, it may be very powerful in
interceding with the older spirits (10).

Several African customs with reference to young children remind us of the
well-known superstition about “Changelings”.


46.—NAMING.

The child receives a name, which it retains until it goes to the
mysteries. The name is given by the relatives: if a female child is
betrothed she may be named by her future husband. The name the child
receives may be determined by some circumstance connected with its birth,
as in the case of Jacob or Joseph, or such Scripture names. Sometimes it
is named after other relatives of the family, as is the custom in Britain.

The person who receives a name at the mysteries has some choice in
determining what he will be called. We knew a boy who assumed much at
his own instance the name of Kalikalanje, the hero about whom there are
so many native tales, reminding one of the class of tales that Jack the
Giant Killer belongs to. All the names of the people are significant.
Every name may be assumed to have originally had some meaning, very much
as every effect has a cause.


47.—NAMING EUROPEANS.

One point where natives show a great deal of cleverness is in giving
names to white people. They never talk of a white man by his own name,
which is generally unsuited to their pronunciation. They have an
invention of their own, and the new name is generally very happy. It hits
off some peculiarity in personal appearance, and, over and above this,
it aims at pointing to some mental habit. After seeing a few efforts of
their naming, we almost become prepared for the theory that physical
appearance is a reflection of character.

Thus they meet with a man who is a miser, they regard his miserliness for
some time in silence; at last they begin to take a look round him. They
wish to discover some of his physical peculiarities. He cuts his hair
very close. “Ah! we have it now,” and they call him “The close shaver!”
When an Englishman with any marked peculiarity arrives among them he
generally creates a profound impression. The natives, like the Greeks
of old, are fond of hearing some new thing. It is often very trying
to one’s sense of the ludicrous to go about the country with English
companions and hear the remarks and criticisms, while the new comers are
quite unconscious of what is being said, and feel sure that they are
complimented. If one do not make progress in the native tongue, he may be
in the country for as long as five years without knowing his native name,
although it is a household word all over the place, and no one speaking
to the natives would ever think of using anything else.

Some names, again, are general designations, not so much of the
individual as his work, and in this way they may be modified, so that the
original meaning is lost. One man had besides his own proper name the
name of Kasisi or priest. This word means originally shaven, or without
hair (kabe sisi, or kalibe sisi). It was first applied to the monks with
reference to their shorn heads. There is a rock that is seen on the
Zambeze at the Lupata mountains, which, at a distance, looks exactly
like a monk. The natives call this rock Kasisi. A clergyman will get
the name applied to him, and that although there be no baldness in the
case. The word is used too of Makukani, who acts as the priest of the
Magololo, especially when rain is required. But it was entirely unused
in the native language till the first man with a tonsure appeared on the
Zambeze. He would get it as a nickname, or rather as a name (for they
would not necessarily want to make fun of him), and the word would linger
after the monks disappeared, and would be applied to any that resembled
them in other particulars.

Visitors sometimes throw a great deal of responsibility on those that
are in the country already. The latter are asked to tell all about them,
and if there be anything peculiar the danger falls on the old settlers.
It is a rule in Africa that where a stranger pays a visit and gets into
trouble in his friend’s district, the whole responsibility lies on his
friend; the same rule is generally applied when travellers are following
a guide. Though it may seem strange, yet the appearance of many people
is apt to be deemed “uncanny”. The phenomenon of a person without an
arm, of people able to change the colour of their hair, or “to take out
their teeth and put them in again,” though easily turned to a laugh among
friendly natives, especially the young, is nevertheless felt to demand
explanation, and might cause serious results among natives disposed to
quarrel.


48.—THE DESTINY OF THE CHILD.

In civilised countries the destiny of the new arrival is left to unfold
itself gradually. No definite course is chalked out. In the life of the
civilised infant there is consequently a great amount of uncertainty and
plot interest, especially with reference to marriage, as every romance
bears witness to. Here this is not the case. Take the instance of a
little girl. All the lovely day dreams, all the pleasures of hope and
pictures of fancy are rudely set aside long before she has reached sweet
seventeen. While the child is yet unborn she may be sought in marriage.
This is often done. Very usually the ardent suitor will wait until it is
known whether the child is to be a boy or a girl. Then he begins at once
to ask for her. He goes with his suit to the Surety (Angoswe), whose name
we intended to translate “undertaker,” only the Awilo (34) usurped that
word. The Surety promises to attend to it, and tells him to come back
soon. When he returns in a day or two, if he has not been forestalled,
the Surety refers him to the mother. The first comer is almost always
successful, especially if he bring a decent present, and the infant is at
once betrothed. When the mother’s consent is given the future son-in-law
offers the present which he has taken with him, and promises to keep the
little girl supplied with clothes. Her clothing, of course, is nothing
but a scanty loin cloth. It is the acceptance of this cloth and the
wearing of it that is the great token of betrothal.

The same word that is used for betrothing a girl is also applied to the
selecting of a piece of ground for hoeing. A person who wants a new farm
goes forth and makes his selection. After doing so he takes bunches of
long grass and ties round the trees in that field. Everyone that passes
knows by the grass put upon the trees that the field has been taken
possession of. Anyone that interfered with it would be liable to have an
action brought against him. In the same way the intending husband points
to the cloth that he has given to the girl, and says, “She is mine”. If
any one interfere with her the intending husband may put him to death.

A boy may also be betrothed in his early days. His guardians will try to
secure a girl about his own age, by arranging with other guardians that
may have a female child to dispose of.

If a girl have a husband betrothed to her she often cooks food for him.
But her claim on him is not of an exclusive nature, as he may have more
wives than one, while the misfortune of an unhappy union is more bitter
to her, as she is excluded from others that she might prefer.

In the Mission School at Zomba there were many couples of twelve years
and under, that were engaged to each other. The boys could tell what
girls they were to marry, and the girls could also point out their
husbands. The marriages of the natives are generally very happy. This
result gives some countenance to Dr. Johnson’s view that there would
be more happiness if all marriages were made by the Chancellor of the
Exchequer. The parents seem never to doubt that they know the “minds”
of their sons and daughters better than they can do themselves. At the
same time I have seen many cases where the girl would have done anything
rather than marry the man that had been assigned her.


49.—INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD.

While the mother goes about her ordinary pursuits she carries her
child upon her back. Native children learn to walk and to talk much
sooner than white children do. They are put upon the ground at an early
stage; little supervision is exercised, and they are accustomed to eat
handfuls of mud. There seems to be no very good food for young children,
consequently they are suckled for a long time. By and by they get a
species of thin porridge (likoko). No cradles are used; the child sleeps
on a mat. Very often it will be asleep on its mother’s back as she is
hard at work under the tropical sun.

It is not common to see a mother beat her child; in fact, there is very
little occasion. There are no clothes to soil, no house to spoil, no
windows to smash, no dishes to break, no spoons to lose; the child may
play with anything that it can find; it may go where it likes without
going into much danger, and without destroying flower-beds or favourite
plants!


50.—BOYHOOD.

As the child grows, his life is equally wild and free. He has to pay no
penalties to the requirements of polite society, he has to go through no
ordeal of being taught to sit properly at table, to hold his knife and
fork properly, and such things—Simple child of nature, thou hast neither
table nor chair, knife nor fork!

He has no School Board to confine him, his time is all his own; he goes
forth to swim in the brooks, or play in the woods. There is no clock in
the hall that will tell tales about his long stay; he watches the course
of the great clock in the face of the heavens, which he learns to read
with astonishing accuracy. As darkness sets in he must go home (from
danger of wild beasts), and may be seen returning to the village. Perhaps
he carries a great bag full of beetles or of field-rats, which are to
serve as a relish (mboga) to his evening meal. Possibly he is laden with
wild fruits; in any case he has the appearance of brightness and buoyancy
that an English child has when returning from a pic-nic. He carries his
little bow and arrows, and is accompanied by two or three companions like
himself.

Apprenticed to no trade, he is left to acquire what he wishes at his
own discretion. Still he has some duties. A very common occupation is
to watch the baboons (majani), and keep them from eating the corn. All
this time the boy is picking up a great deal of information. He hears
the talk of his elders as he sits with them at their meals, or when they
are engaged in public counsel; and by and by, for amusement in the first
instance, he will take to some little occupation himself. Of course, in
this country he can live and become rich (as a native counts riches),
without learning any trade. Hoeing comes naturally to him, but his wives
will hoe.


51.—AMUSEMENTS (1) TALES, AND CONUNDRUMS.

I was once walking along a native path with a little boy, and when the
conversation began to flag I proposed a native riddle for him. He turned
round with a very peculiar look, and asked me if we recited riddles at
our home. “Yes,” was the reply, “and you do it too.” Then he asked, “Do
you do it at mid-day?” And by and by, after smothering many conflicting
thoughts and some irresolution, he began to explain that the old people
said that “if boys recited riddles at mid-day, horns would grow on their
foreheads!” Tales and conundrums are generally recited after sunset.
While asleep, as our companions thought, in a tent beside the camp
fires, we have often lain almost bursting with suppressed laughter, as
we listened to the tales and conundrums that went round. Natives have
plenty of such traditional literature, which, accompanied by their shrewd
observations on men and manners, makes their society highly interesting.

(2) A very simple method of amusement in the villages is for the children
to dance or skip along the roads, singing simple songs and choruses (Cf.
chilewe).

(3) The out-door games are numerous; (indoor games will not be looked
for when we remember the size of the houses). One of the commonest is
playing at ball (kung’anda mpila). In the usual game there are two sides:
the players mix with each other, and the object of each is to throw the
ball so that it will always be caught by one of the same side. If one
of the other side catch it, the ball changes owners, and the side that
originally had it must try to recover it. The side that keeps the ball
longest is victorious. It must be thrown up as soon as it is received.
Sometimes the time of throwing is regulated by beating a drum.


(4) TOPS.

They set up maize cobs (isonde), which represent soldiers. The player
on one side has the same number of “soldiers” as his opponent. Each
discharges tops (njengo) upon the opposing army, and the man that first
demolishes those of his opponent is victorious. Another amusement with
tops is the same as in Britain, and consists in merely trying how long
they can make a top spin. They often shout or sing something as it
revolves.[7]


(5) DRAUGHTS (NJOMBWA).

A game reminding us somewhat of draughts is very common. Little holes are
dug in the ground, the players have a certain number of plums. The object
of one player is to take possession of all the plums of his opponent. We
have seen regular boards used for this game about the size of a draught
board, but with little holes like those in a bagatelle board. These holes
are in four rows or lines (nyili). The councillors of Malemya, the chief
of Zomba, are very fond of this amusement during their beer drinkings.


(6) SKIPPING ROPE (CHIWEWE).

They tie a large bunch of African grass (like a bunch of hay or straw) to
the end of a rope. One man swings this rapidly in a circle of which he
is the centre. The skipper stands within this circle, and must jump over
the rope each time it comes round. If he cannot clear the rope in time it
“ties his legs, and he falls and gets laughed at”.

All these games are for the boys, but they do not forget them when they
grow up; in fact, the young men seem to be the most zealous players. The
girls have not so much time for play; they are kept constantly pounding
at corn as soon as they are able to lift the pestle.

(7) Both boys and girls have games, in which they imitate the graver
pursuits of their fathers and mothers (kulinganila misingu jao). They
build little houses, where they go to dwell during the day. Girls in
their play often break down soft stones between harder ones, after the
fashion that women grind flour. Boys go about with miniature bows and
grass arrows (sugumbe). Playing at war and stealing slaves is a common
game. In teaching young natives substraction, the illustration found
simplest was like this: given a village with 30 people, the slavers catch
11, how many are left?




CHAPTER VII.

MYSTERIES.


52.—“LITTLE-GO” FOR THE GIRLS.

When a girl is very young, scarcely approaching the age of puberty, she
is taken to one mystery called unyago wa chiputu. The Wanyasa girls are
a little older when they go to this ceremony. Girls until this ceremony
are called “uninitiated” (wesichana); after it they are “initiated”
(wali). The same terms are applicable to boys and young men, although
more commonly applied to females. The girl may have been living with her
husband even before this mystery. In such cases she gets a special charm
at the ceremony. The mystery is a very great occasion among these tribes.
Long before the time a great deal of food is prepared: the women may be
seen pounding maize for about five days before. It begins at new moon,
and continues for a month or more. The children to be initiated stay in
booths away in the bush. Thousands of people collect from all quarters.
There is a great deal of dancing and singing.

The girls are initiated by a female, who is called the “cook of the
mystery” (mtelesi wa unyago). Among other things this “cook” gives
an exhortation in which they are told to be obedient and respectful
to their elders, and to avoid making any disturbance in the village.
Towards the close of the ceremony the little girls are put under a roof,
which they can carry on their heads. Ten may be under this at the same
time. A great part of the exhortation has reference to the customs of
the tribe, especially with reference to marriage duties, and advice is
given in a great many absurd details. Each little girl is told that she
must be faithful to her husband, otherwise he will kill her. Although
the adultress is liable to punishment by death, this threat goes perhaps
a little beyond the truth. But it is considered prudent to impress the
mind of the child by warning her of the extreme danger that such conduct
might incur. The heads of the girls are shaved, and their bodies anointed
with an oil which contains various charms. One hurtful superstition is
that when the girl is initiated she must find some man to be with her on
her return otherwise she will die. The same superstition is implicitly
believed with reference to the boys’ ceremonies. It reminds us a little
of what Herodotus relates of certain Asiatics. When the girl comes back
to her home her name is changed, and must not be again mentioned.

The ordinary fee for this initiation, payable by the guardians of the
girl to the “cook,” is about four fathoms of cloth. This is a heavy
fee—about a month’s wages of a native workman.


“LITTLE-GO” FOR THE BOYS (NDAGALA).

The boys go through a similar ceremony. First there is a dance (kwina) at
a place cleared of the small trees and bushes (lupanda). This dance lasts
for two or three days. After this they pass to the initiation (ndagala).
Here they stay in booths made of cut trees, grass, and bamboos, for about
a month and a-half. The ceremony begins at new moon, and continues until
next full moon; but anyone may be initiated sooner if there be a cause
for speed. (The Anyasa do not make their males go through this ceremony;
but an Anyasa slave taken by the Wayao is put through it even if he be an
old man and married.)

The candidates carry their beds with them. They provide themselves with
sticks like ramrods (mbininga), which are thrown at any one that may
intrude on their retreat; and if a person should thus be seriously hurt
there is no redress. This reminds us of the

    Odi profanum vulgus,
    Et arceo

of Horace. When they leave the ceremony great care is shown in destroying
or disposing of these sticks: some are put together at a “cross-road”.

The chief figure in this ceremony is a man called the “rattler of the
tails” (juakuchimula michila). Tails are possessed of great power as
charms. A chief who goes to war seeks for such medicinal tails; the sick
are restored by them. A house in which ivory is to be stored must first
be swept by tails. Belief in their virtues is not confined to one tribe.
Pictures of the Zulu witch-doctors represent these personages as fully
armed with tails, and there are many other instances in Africa. The man
that rattles the tails communicates to the initiated all information with
regard to the customs of the tribe, and special observations connected
with the sexes. He delivers lectures and is said to give much good
advice. A person that has not gone through this ceremony is laughed at as
being uninitiated (mwisichana). The lectures condemn selfishness, hence
when one man refuses to share with another a piece of meat he is called
mwisichana.

No one must call the initiated youth (wanachikopoko) by his previous
name. “What would happen if any one were to forget this, and call the
youth by his old name?” “Why, he would kill you.” It is a terrible way
of teasing a Wayao to point to a little boy, and ask if he remembers
what was his name when he was about the size of that boy. Some would not
mention their old name on any consideration.


53.—THE “GREAT GO” (UNYAGO WA CHIMBANDI).

There is another of these mysteries. It must be remembered that the
foregoing mysteries are great occasions among the natives, and this one,
though in some respects less public and more a family matter is no less
so. When the “greater mystery” (unyago wokulu), as the Anyasa call it,
is to be held, a quiet and peaceful village is converted into a scene
resembling an old feeing market or a penny wedding. The ceremony is held
when a young woman is with child for the first time; it is attended only
by women that have borne children themselves. Other women are banished
from the village, and all the males except the husband of the young
woman, who must be present if he has not been initiated before.

The day before the ceremony women may be seen pounding corn for the
occasion, as they have been doing for several days. A preparation is
made that might do for a marriage feast. The young woman that is to be
the subject of the mystery is seated before the door of her hut, and her
head is smeared over with castor oil. The “Cook” seems to superintend
this operation, although other women assist. They take the thinner end of
their razor (lukwangulo), and keep poking all along her head while the
girl sits quiet and gloomy. That day her head is shaved. Next day there
is the mystery proper. The Surety (48) has gone to invite other women.
The “Cook” also invites her friends. The young woman herself (achakongwe
wene) invites some. There is a very imposing gathering of matrons;
songs and dances of the usual indelicate character are the order of the
day. One of the most conspicuous parties is to be seen with an enormous
pumpkin tied under her dress. The young woman is anointed with oil and
red ochre (ngama). The ceremony is finished towards night and inside the
house. The fee to the “Cook” is two bushels of maize. This is the last of
these mysteries. The advice given to the young woman (and her husband)
is not deficient in quantity; but on its quality we prefer to be silent.
To the natives themselves it appears ridiculous as soon as they become
critical.

We have met a Yao far from his own home, and once or twice, in order to
find out at what age he had been carried off in slavery, we have asked
whether he was at the mysteries; the very mention of the subject nearly
put him beside himself with laughter. He looks back to the matter as
a comical experience of his life; but at the same time he is rather
ashamed, especially when he thinks that a European knows about it. The
following from the Zulu tales of Bishop Callaway illustrates a similar
practice in the South of Africa:—“When young men come to the Umgongo
where the ceremonies of puberty are being performed (for when a damsel
is of age it is then that the filthy custom is practised of all the
young people going there), the house is now a house of sweethearts and
damsels where all kind of evil will be spoken; modesty is at an end at
that time, and all fearful things are mentioned, which ought not to be
openly mentioned, and which, if a man mentioned them by name, he would
be regarded as mad. There then all become mad, for there is no one of
authority to say, ‘Do not mention such things’.”

On this whole subject writers are divided. Some say that the mysteries
include circumcision after the Jewish or Mahommedan custom. Others deny
this. The subject has its difficulties, as these rites are supposed to
be inviolably concealed by the initiated, who often say that they would
die if they revealed them. Mr. Rowley, in his book on the “Universities
Mission,” makes the remark that the Wayao circumcise. From one native
I gathered that such was the case; but on subsequent inquiry I could
not verify the statement. The Mahommedans, who are pressing into the
country, have, according to Senhor Nunes, a missionary spirit about them,
but even at Quilimane the administration of circumcision is confined
to their prosyletes. The general character of the mysteries is as we
have described above. We may also point out that in the initiation of
males, figures of the whale (nyamgumi) are made on the ground, and in
the initiation of females, figures of leopards, hyenas, and such animals
as are seen by those that never leave their homes. Flour is sprinkled on
the top of these figures; if it fall off soon, there will be war in the
country. Some of the advices given to the Namaquas at similar ceremonies
is that they must not any longer suck goats!

At initiation the Bechuana girls are put under the authority of a stern
old woman, who sets them very severe tasks in order to teach them to
undergo pain and fatigue. One of their duties is to hold a piece of hot
iron in their hands for some time. We have often been astonished at the
manner in which the natives about us used to handle fire. It seemed to
become quite harmless in their fingers!

The boys in some Bechuana tribes have an ordeal still more severe. A
number of questions are asked, for instance, “Will you herd the cattle
well?” When the boy says “I will,” he receives a stroke which inflicts a
deep gash in his back. Another question is put to him, which is impressed
on his memory by another terrible blow. If he were to wince under
these inflictions he would fail to “pass”. The boys generally acquit
themselves marvellously. The cuts inflicted are said to be from 12 to 18
inches long. Few Europeans would survive the initiation.

Few things better shew the degradation of the African heathen than
the fact that instruction at the Mysteries is the only kind of formal
teaching to be found in his country.




CHAPTER VIII.

MARRIAGE.


54.—WAYS OF PROCURING A WIFE.

(1) We have already seen that a little girl may be betrothed very early.
After she is grown up, even before she has attended the mysteries, she
may go to live with her husband.

(2) If a man succeed a relative that possessed five wives, every one of
these women passes over to him by inheritance.

(3) If a man make a raid on a neighbouring village, and carry off some
girls, they will become his wives, unless redeemed.

(4) Another way of procuring a wife is simply by buying. Two skins of a
buck is a fair price in the Mangoni country. Similarly wives may be paid
over in settling debts.

(5) Young men are sometimes presented with wives by the masters or
guardians of the latter.

(6) The case of wooing is treated below (56).

When a man’s wife dies he gives an offering to her spirit (cf. 41), and
goes to seek another to fill her place. A wife whose husband is dead
may not get another so quickly lest he should die also (82). There is
nothing to prevent a man from marrying his sister-in-law; but no man may
marry his sister, a fact that is brought out very distinctly in a common
native conundrum, which might be rendered, “What is the fruit that you
must not pluck, however sweet it may be?”

A couple may marry though they belong to different tribes, and can hardly
communicate except by signs.


55.—RANKS AMONG WIVES.

As a rule a man has one wife that is free, while the other three or four
are slaves. If he be the chief of a village his wife also gets the title
of msyene wa musi, or “possessor of the village”. His other wives are not
called slaves, but ladies of the harem (akusyeto), although their status
is really that of slaves.

The chief wife is generally the woman that was married first. There
may be exceptions. For instance, if the principal wife be betrothed in
infancy to a full grown man, this man will take a female “to fill the
place of the betrothed infant”.

After being married for a year or two the husband is almost expected to
get junior wives. These the chief wife, as a matter of courtesy, calls
her younger sisters (apwao).

We have seen instances, however, when a great strife arose on the
introduction of the other wives, and where the chief wife would threaten
a separation, and carry it out too. But these were instances rather of
self-will than of conformity to the customs of the country. It is an
object of common aspiration to be possessed of five wives.

The chief wife has the superintendence of the domestic and agricultural
establishment. She keeps the others at their work, and has power to
exercise discipline upon them. The punishment she inflicts for laziness
is to banish junior wives from meals until hunger bring them to their
senses. When a junior wife is very obstreperous her superior may put her
in a slave stick. The authority of the chief wife is not a matter to jest
with. I knew a case of a junior wife that had her infant child promptly
put upon the fire by this terrible overseer.

When a man is severely pressed by some legal action and has to pay heavy
fines, he begins by selling off his junior wives. When reduced to one
wife he has reached the highest point of distress. His free wife he
cannot sell, as she is under the protection of her surety (60).


_Plurality of Free Wives._

A man may procure more than one free wife, by inheriting an elder
brother. In this case he may often become the possessor of another
village, and thus his free wives need not come into collision. His
late brother’s wife may live at her old home, at which her new husband
will dwell on stated occasions; at other times he will live at his own
village, where his other free wife continues to reside.


56.—ADULT MARRIAGE.

It is not easy to explain in a short form all the customs with reference
to marriage. They are so different from what we are familiar with that,
to make the description less tedious, we shall suppose a case of _adult
marriage_, which may easily happen, notwithstanding the custom of
betrothal, as a marriage here is not necessarily a union for life.

A man sees a young woman who has apparently no husband; he wishes this
young woman to be his wife. He may talk to her privately, and ask her
sentiments. If he be favourably received, he will tell his wishes to his
surety (48)—this may be his father or uncle, or elder brother, or the
chief of the village in which he lives. This step is very prudent, seeing
that at marriage the man leaves his father and mother, leaves his own
home and country, and goes to stay with his wife.

The woman takes no steps whatever, she returns to her home and says
nothing—wonders whether the man is in earnest; by and by her suitor,
after receiving the sanction of his surety, goes to the country of the
woman and asks formally for her hand. The woman’s surety tells him to
come back again, and meanwhile communicates with the woman. Next time the
suitor comes, perhaps in a day or two, he engages his bride. She is at
once his wife.

The man immediately leaves his own village and proceeds to build a house
in the village of his wife. As soon as he has finished the door, and
perhaps before the roof is on, she enters it and lives with him.


_Day of entering the house._

There is no ceremony on the day on which she enters the house (_lia
kwinjila nyumba_). The elders may be present on this day, and a rich man
may signalise it by having some beer; but the rule is that what would
be the marriage day with Europeans, passes by without receiving any
distinction. The woman simply enters the house that her husband has built
at her father’s home, and takes with her, pots, baskets, a bed, and some
flour to make their simple meal. The axe and hoe belong rather to the
man’s outfit, although the woman will use them oftener than he. One of
her first duties is to plaster their house.


57.—WOMAN’S KINGDOM.

The wife has the chief part of the hoeing and _cultivation_ of the soil.
The husband cuts down trees and may also hoe with her if he have not
many wives, in which case he has less occasion to work. She has also to
go to the forest with her axe and cut _firewood_ (_ngwi_). The husband
may go with her. It is interesting to meet a couple returning from a
journey for firewood. The man goes first carrying his gun or bow and
arrows, while the woman carries the invariable bundle of firewood on her
head. Mrs. Macdonald used to amuse such parties by taking the wife’s load
and putting it on the husband, telling him ‘this is the custom of our
country’. It is also the wife’s duty to go to the field for the supply of
beans, potatoes, or pumpkins.

One of the hardest parts of the woman’s work is the _pounding_ or milling
of the corn. She breaks it down in a mortar by means of a large pestle,
which is a weight in itself. The work is certainly hard and tedious, but
results in the formation of a very fine flour.

She looks to her husband to find her in clothing. When her clothes are
torn it is his duty to sew them, and a very serious thing it is for a
husband to neglect this work. It may cause a separation. But he finds
that her wardrobe is not expensive. If he can get calico at 3d. a-yard
she will really cost little more than 2s. per annum. No wonder that she
expects her husband to show her some little attention since she does so
much for him. The wife may be described as performing nearly the whole of
the ploughing and sowing, the whole of the reaping and ingathering of the
crop, the whole of the milling, the whole of the brewing, and the whole
of the cooking, including the carrying of fire and water.

When a woman has cooked her husband’s meal she does not sit down to enjoy
it with him except they be quite alone. If they sit down together and a
male stranger arrive she retires and takes her food apart, and he may do
the same when a female comes to visit them (67).


58.—MARRIAGE CONTRACT (_chikulundine_).

We have seen that there is no marriage ceremony on the day that they
enter their house (56), but sometime after, perhaps when they get
the first produce of their new field, there is a meeting to lay down
certain rules as to their behaviour in their new relationship (_kuwika
chikulundine_). The wife’s surety comes to ‘settle’ her (_ne kuja angoswe
kwatula alumbuwao_).

The young wife ‘cooks’ (_kuteleka_) or brews a great quantity of beer.
Two pots are prepared for the surety or sureties of her husband, and
two others for her own surety or sureties. Then there is a great feast
at which these personages are present to offer their instructions. The
sureties of the husband (_angoswe wa chilume_) may kill a cock, while the
sureties of the wife (_angoswe wa chikongwe_) kill a laying hen. Very
often a part of such fowls is carefully carried to an old surety that has
not been able to come.

These marriage rules (_chikulundine_) prohibit the wife from adultery,
and bind both parties to resort to the medicine man (_mchisango_) in case
of sickness or misfortune.

In Deut. xxiv. 5, it is said, ‘When a man hath taken a new wife he shall
not go out to war, neither shall he be chargeable with any business, but
he shall be free at home one year, and shall cheer up his wife whom he
has taken’. So certain Africans will not go on any warlike expedition or
act as undertakers (34) when they have a young child.


59.—SEPARATION.

The husband and wife may separate if they can show some reason. The
reasons for a separation are such as these: (1) If the wife commit
_adultery_, for one offence she may get off with a reprimand, especially
in the case of a poor man; but the repetition of the offence generally
insures dismissal, if not death. If she be free, she goes back to her
surety, if she be a slave, she will likely be sold.

(2) If either speak disrespectfully of the other’s friends there may be a
separation.

(3) If a woman’s children all die her husband may leave her.

(4) Where the husband neglects to sew his wife’s clothes, or where the
wife will not hoe diligently, there may be a divorce.

(5) In cases where they do not please each other, a separation may be
arranged.

When they separate, the wife takes away the few domestic utensils which
she brought with her, none of which are used by the man. If he gave her,
occasionally, pieces of cloth to wear she does not pay them back, because
she was the “cook of his porridge for him”.

In all separations, except for serious cases like adultery, the one party
gives the other a token (_msimbo_), which may be cloth, arrow-heads,
beads, or some such current money. The one that begins the strife
(_juakutanda_), and is the cause of the separation, pays the other.

Very often a husband leaving his wife will give her a male slave, while a
wife leaving her husband will give him a female slave.


_Marriage with Slaves._

If one of the parties be a slave to the other, the marriage bond is not
so readily dissolved. Slave spouses must listen to the dictates of
their partners, and where there is practically only one will there can
be no collision. The free spouses when tired of their slave partners, or
offended by them, can dispose of them just as in the case of other slaves.

We have known many cases of slave wives running away from husbands,
but we have not known instances of slave husbands running away from
free wives. We might think that where the wives have the upper hand
in marriage relationships, there is not such a risk of strife as in
the ordinary arrangement; only the proportion of free wives with slave
husbands is small.

In no case can a woman, even if she possess many male slaves, have more
than one husband. If a wife with a male slave marry a free husband, her
male slave is discarded; and if again she should fancy another man, she
must devise some reason for separating from this new husband. There can
easily be found cases where it could be said to a woman, “thou hast had
five husbands,” although they would not be contemporaneous.

The husband on the other hand may have as many wives as he can secure.
Very generally the head of a village, instead of appropriating for
himself every woman that he might have, gives over certain for his
younger brothers or male slaves. A Yao Chief is content with ten to
twenty wives. Some of the Magololo have 170.

I have been often asked how a man can _maintain_ the scores, and even
hundreds of wives that Africans are allowed to have. The man finds no
difficulty. The more wives he has, the richer he is. It is his wives
that _maintain him_. They do all his ploughing, milling, cooking,
&c. (51). They may be viewed as superior servants who combine all the
capacities of male servants and female servants in Britain—who do all his
work and ask no wages.


60.—PECULIAR POSITION OF A FREE WIFE.

In the case of a free wife the husband is not responsible for her debts,
if he were so, it would go hard with her, as she might be sold off to
pay a “legal action”. When a woman gets into trouble the accuser does
not go to the husband at all, but to the surety (48). Suppose a woman is
accused of theft, it is no matter for her husband. The accuser goes with
some evidence before the surety. If the evidence be exceedingly little,
no notice is taken, but if the accuser has a chance of incriminating
the woman, the surety will call her, and she must respond, whether the
husband be willing or not.

If she confess to the charge, her surety pays the fine. If she deny the
charge, she will appeal to the poisoned cup (_mwai_). If she drink it and
survive, she is innocent, and receives a fine which is paid, not to the
husband, but to the surety. When the plaintiff has to pay three slaves,
the surety will retain two of them, and out of kindness give one over
to his relative whose life has been endangered by the ordeal; thus the
accused woman has a kind of solatium. If she die, her guilt is proved:
the plaintiff is entitled to restitution of the stolen goods or their
value, and a fine as well. All this is paid by the surety; the husband
has nothing to do in the matter except to observe the customary mourning
(33) when she dies, but of course the unfortunate woman that dies of the
poison is only entitled to mangled funeral rites (107).


_Family Relationships._

We may here mention the great difficulty we have at first in
understanding their relationships. The modern European family is founded
on marriage, but the time was, even in Europe, when it was founded
as much on power. The single fact that families may be founded on
other grounds than marriage will give the ordinary reader an idea of
the difficulty. A native child sees nothing wonderful in claiming to
have two or three fathers, and as many mothers. If a man have several
younger brothers their children are called his sons, so are his own
grandchildren. But the children of a sister are called his nephews. This
naming fits very well with their system of inheritance (97). If a man
have a brother and a sister, he is called one thing by the brother, but
quite a different thing by the sister. Again, we cannot give a literal
translation of “Joseph and his brethren”: we require to say “Joseph and
his elder brethren and his younger brother”.




CHAPTER IX.

SOCIAL LIFE.


61. MAN IN SOCIETY.

Hitherto we have looked at the native as an individual or as a member of
a family and have spoken of his birth, training, marriage, and death. Now
we shall view him as a member of society.

Rarely does a native live a hermit’s life. We did know of men that
forsook their relatives and lived alone, but they were considered
mad. Not unfrequently, however, a man and his family live entirely by
themselves, independent of the rest of the world. Such cases occur where
invading tribes have overrun a country and driven out its people. After
the invaders retire, the old inhabitants are afraid to go back, and an
enormous tract of country is left desolate. Still, in some inaccessible
nook there is often found a solitary family—a remnant either of the
invaders or of the invaded. Usually the natives live in small villages
containing 10 or 12 huts, occasionally in larger villages containing
three times as many. They do not like to pack themselves closely. In
times of peace few villages contain more than 100 people. Owing to the
native method of cultivation (64), the inhabitants of a large village
soon find themselves too distant from their farms. On one small island in
Lake Chirwa, people are massed together to the number of 4000, but they
subsist by fishing, and are obliged to live there for protection from
slavers.


62. FOUNDING A NATIVE VILLAGE.

A man wishing to found a new settlement, first takes steps to get out
of the village he belongs to. He goes to the village chief and says
“I wish to leave you and form a hamlet of my own”. Should the latter
object, he remarks, “Remember, I am not your slave”. In times of peace
it is inconvenient to crowd people together, and the chief’s consent is
readily obtained. In times of war no one cares to form a small settlement
which might become an easy prey to the enemy. In a populous district the
founder of a new village makes arrangements with his neighbours regarding
the fields he is to farm. Then he chooses the ground and betrothes it
(tomela). When ready to remove he takes his axe and his grass-cutter and
marches to the site of his new home, accompanied by his family who are
able to carry all the furniture at one journey. In a single forenoon they
erect temporary dwellings for themselves. They then begin to clear away
the bush, the man cutting the trees, and his wives doing the hoeing while
the children play beside them. The party find themselves in a pleasant
little world of their own where no one interferes. Their method of
manuring the ground by burning the trees on it, makes sad havoc of the
beautiful woods. After the hoeing is well advanced they think of erecting
a house. During his wood-cutting the man sets aside the trees that are
suitable for building. He also lays past some of the grass for thatching.
When the erection is finished it is carefully plastered by the women,
and then we have before us the house or hut which is the chief material
constituent of the native village. Separate houses for fowls and bins for
corn may next be erected (C).


63. INCREASE OF VILLAGE.

The single family may rapidly become a large state. A man with three
daughters, one of nine years, another of five years, and another of
five days will soon have three able-bodied sons-in-law added to his
village. The girl of nine years likely has her husband already, who now
comes and builds a house at her father’s abode, while his young wife
tries to look as important as she can. The girl of five years may also
have crossed the Rubicon, otherwise her husband, if a lad of sixteen
summers, will be counting the weary days of single life, and looking
forward to the time when he may go to dwell with his bride. The girl of
five days, if she have not a presumptive husband already, will be given
to the first applicant, and he will in due time be added to the colony.
Since a husband, instead of taking his wife from her home must leave
his own abode and go to dwell with her (56), daughters are the great
hope of a rising village. Sons do not cheer their father’s heart in the
same way; for their marriage removes them from his settlement and adds
nothing to his splendour as a village chief. The sons-in-law have all
separate dwellings. However large the settlement may become, the man
that is first in the field is the chief or headman. In course of time
he adorns his position by acquiring wealth. He may shoot some buck and
get possession of their skins. With these he goes to the Mangoni country
and buys slaves. An old person he obtains for a single skin, but a young
slave costs two; and women cost much more than men. The female slaves
thus bought are his junior wives, and he keeps them busy in hoeing the
farm, and all such female duties. The male slaves he employs in farming,
building, making baskets, sewing garments, and such masculine pursuits.
He keeps all these persons strictly at their duties, and at the same
time welcomes an opportunity of selling them at a profit. The gain
thus realised he lays out in purchasing more people. If his daughters
were unmarried, he would give them slave-husbands. The natives aim at
“replenishing the earth and subduing it”. As it is no expense for them to
rear families, they are all desirous to have many children.

Besides this increase of the village from the chief’s own resources,
there may be an accession of freemen. After the settlement is begun,
a man may come to its founder and say, “I wish to live with you”. The
village chief gives him permission and calls him “younger brother”. The
new comer brings his family, builds a house, and cultivates a farm in the
same way as his chief.

A freeman may leave his present chief and take up his abode with another,
whose subject he becomes. His former chief has no longer any authority
over him whatsoever. But a man often decamps by night taking with him
many slaves belonging to his fellow-citizens; he then goes to some
influential chief who may be only too glad to give the fugitive ground,
and to establish him as a sub-chief. Freemen who thus leave are detested
by their former chief, who welcomes every opportunity of shooting or
capturing them.

To retain a runaway slave is to proclaim war with his owner. A chief
though not bound to catch a runaway and hand him back, may do so in
order to show friendship to the slave’s master. A fugitive slave when
recaptured is treated unmercifully, hence he almost chooses to die rather
than to be sent back.


64. VILLAGE LIFE AND WORK.

As we take a journey into the country we come on a path quite new.
Curiosity prompts us to follow it. Our natives exclaim, “Oh, when did
this new settlement begin? How quickly it has sprung up.” We quench our
thirst at the beautiful stream, and then advance towards the village
green. The hamlet is already large, but we find only two male slaves
sitting manufacturing a bed. “Where is the chief?” “He has gone to drink
beer at Masangano’s.” “Why did you leave your old home?” “Chikumbu is
killing people, and we wanted to live nearer the Mission.” “And where is
little Mpakata that used to come to school?” “His father sent him to
watch the monkeys, but he takes his book with him and reads.” “Where are
all the rest of the people?” “They have gone to carry food from our old
fields.” When villages are small we find them in the forenoon entirely
deserted, and all the doors barred on the outside. In the first year of a
settlement the farm is just at the door. Each year it moves farther off,
for instead of hoeing the old fields, the natives go beyond them, and
without remorse cut down more of the beautiful trees. Thus they advance
year by year till they reach the boundary of another farmer. From him
they get permission to go right beyond his farm and hoe on the other
side. The new fields they plant with their corn and principal crops; the
old fields they think fit only for beans and crops of small importance.
When they have in this way exhausted the soil in their neighbourhood,
they remove altogether, and build a new village in some uncultivated spot.


65. THE WORKERS.

The wives and slaves of a village chief do the greater part of his
hoeing (62). His sons-in-law are also required to assist. Should a slave
son-in-law refuse to comply with this custom he is liable to be driven
from his wife: a free son-in-law would get off more easily. It is not
common for the man’s own sons to contribute their aid, but they may do
so out of kindness. The freemen that settle with a man, and own him as
their chief, are under no obligation to do his farming; they have fields
of their own: but it is common for a farmer to be assisted by all in
his neighbourhood through what is called a _chijawo_, which resembles a
hoeing match, only there is no competition. The farmer brews an enormous
quantity of beer. All his friends turn out with hoes, and work hard till
midday; after that they drink the beer.


66. A DAY’S WORK AND A DAY’S FARE.

The natives rise at daybreak (6 A.M.) and go off to their fields without
any food. They work till noon, and then come back to breakfast. Their
day’s work in the field is now over, and in the afternoon the village
so recently empty is full of inhabitants. The women are occupied in
preparing the second meal, while the men may do some of their more
artistic work (H), though among tribes that have been hitherto hunted
from their homes every twenty or thirty years no high art is to be
expected. As the shades of evening gather round the hamlet (6 P.M.) the
villagers partake of their second meal, and soon after retire to rest.


67. COOKING AND MEALS IN COMMON.

Though each family has a farm of its own, no family eats its food apart
from the others. All the inhabitants of a small village take their meals
in common. They manage in the following way:—One night Mrs. Kumlomba
supplies all the flour, and takes her share of pounding and cooking.
Next night Mrs. Chipaliko does the same, and next night Mrs. Chendombo.
As soon as the food is cooked, it is taken to their husbands and all
the other males of the village, who wait for it in the forum. Part is
reserved for the women themselves, who along with the female children
must eat in a different place. A large village is divided into several
messes, one part of each mess consisting of the males and the other part
of the females.




CHAPTER X.

GOVERNMENT AND ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE.


68. VILLAGE POLITICS.—THE HEADMAN OR VILLAGE CHIEF.

The inhabitants of a native village live together on well-understood
principles, whatever may be said of their practice. The village headman
is their Governor, or rather their “Father”. In describing how a new
settlement is founded (62) we supposed that a man went forth alone, and
was afterwards joined by others, who were called his “younger brothers”.
But often the founder is from the first accompanied by several friends.
Now, all these “younger brothers” form a kind of Parliament. The founder
of the village, or in other words the village headman, presides over this
body, but is not obliged to follow its instructions. Slaves cannot be
members of Parliament, neither have females any voice in the council. So
much is this last fact recognised, that when a mother is asked whether
the infant in her arms is a boy or a girl, instead of saying “It is a
girl,” she will reply, “It belongs to the sex that does not speak!”—an
answer which strikes us as implying an unusual definition of the
female sex. A headman does not convene his parliament except when he
sees occasion. If he think, for instance, that some of his people are
becoming too rich, he transfers their goods to himself without making
any fuss about the matter. But if he wish to engage in war, he considers
it necessary to assemble his parliament. In the same way if he desire to
carry out any public work, as surrounding the village with a stockade,
he summons his people to consider the proposal and assist in the
undertaking. The headman, however, cannot make his villagers hoe his farm
for him, or do any such private work (65). Neither does he exact tribute
from them—for who would tax his “younger brothers?” Still he expects
them not only to stand by him in war, but to support his government on
all occasions, and to render special assistance in the trial of judicial
cases. After such cases have been debated by his parliament, it becomes
his duty to give decision. He may pronounce a capital sentence, or order
as large a penalty as the fine of four slaves—especially if he be a
higher headman (72). But his judgment may be complained of by any of his
free subjects (only such appeals are rare, unless by parties that want to
leave his village altogether). His decision may be revised by some other
headman, as the ruler of the village from which his own settlement broke
off (62); but the ultimate appeal is to the chief of the country. While
the village headman settles all smaller disputes without troubling his
chief, he usually reports graver cases. Where he has any difficulty in
administering justice he appeals to his chief for aid, and if such aid
were refused, he would have sufficient reason for rebelling. The headman
is called the “owner of the village,” and when he dies his position is
taken by his heir (97).


69. THE KING OR CHIEF OF THE COUNTRY.

The chief is called the “owner of the territory” (msiene chilambo), and
has supreme power over every one that dwells within his dominions. It
is true that he does not personally interfere with all his subjects,
much less with their slaves, but he holds the headmen accountable for
the government of their respective villages. He lives in what is called
the “capital” (kumbala), which is inhabited mainly by his wives and
slaves—a man’s greatness being always measured by the number of these.
If he have ten wives, he must have ten huts for them; and he requires
other huts for his older children and his slaves. These items alone make
his village large, and he may have many people besides. He maintains no
special army, for every man in the country is supposed to be a soldier.
He rules his own village in the same way as an ordinary headman would do.
He often gives considerable authority to his principal slave, who may be
as important a functionary as Joseph was with his Egyptian master. In and
around his own village the chief of the country is a terrible power, and
his government is supported by the most prompt and severe punishments.
But in distant parts of his dominions, where influential headmen live, he
may be little known, although as a matter of theory he is supposed to
settle all graver disputes even in remote villages. When an appeal comes
up from a headman’s village, the chief generally decides it himself, but
he may refer it either to this headman again or to some other headman in
whom he has confidence. In a dispute between the inhabitants of different
villages, the respective headmen represent their own subjects, and the
chief is appealed to. All his decisions are final. Still the chief may
often have less influence than powerful headmen, and we have known cases
where he simply contented himself with grumbling when his headmen acted
contrary to his desire; and in many criminal trials he is eclipsed by the
sorcerers and pounders of poison.


70. GOVERNMENT OF THE COUNTRY.

The chief governs his whole territory on the same principles as a headman
governs a village (68). He presides over a parliament composed of his
headmen, and he deals with this body in the same way as the headmen
themselves deal with their own village parliaments. Order is maintained
among the various classes of his subjects as follows:—(1) Slaves are
entirely under their own master—they are his “goods”; (2) Freemen are
under their elder brother in the first instance, but they may carry
their cases to the headman of their village, or even to the chief of
the country; (3) Headmen are under higher headmen and the chief. Where
a chief sees occasion to interfere with his subordinates, he generally
consults his own interest. He will say to a headman, “I see that you have
been behaving badly to that subject of yours. You cannot get on with
him; he must leave you and come to dwell in my own village!” The chief
thus secures another servant.


71. HEADMEN.

Headmen are of various classes. Some are the chief’s blood-relations and
are called his ‘younger brothers’. But just as in a village, there may be
free-men not related to the headman, so in the chief’s country there may
be headmen not related to the chief. They may have come over with a large
following from a hostile chief, in which case they are called “settlers,”
or “refugees” (alambi). Or they may be men that have gained the chief’s
favour by their services, and been sent to occupy new spots in his
kingdom. Again, when a large village increases, and sends forth smaller
hamlets, new headmen arise; but some of these may carry all their trials
to the mother village, and in this case they are still the subjects of
their “elder brother”.

When a person has acquired several villages (97), he becomes a higher
headman, intermediate between the chief and the owner of a single
village. Each headman lives in the village he likes best, and leaves
his “brothers” to manage his other villages. But a headman of great
ambition often places “brothers” all around him, decides their cases, and
practically governs a small kingdom of his own. If he live far from his
chief, one might suppose that he was quite independent. When a quarrel
arises between the chief of the country and an important headman, the
latter may rebel, and found a new kingdom, thus depriving the old chief
perhaps of one-third of the villages in his dominion. On the other hand,
a headman may keep up the chief’s authority in a district that the latter
could not otherwise hold.


72. DUTIES OF HEADMEN TO THE CHIEF.

In all public transactions the headman represents his village. He
receives the chief’s orders and sees them carried out. When he kills
an elephant he sends one of the tusks to the chief. Should he kill
twenty elephants he is not expected to give up twenty tusks—two or three
would be sufficient. If he shoot a large buck he gives one haunch of
venison. For all such tribute he expects to receive a return present
(generally of a little powder). It is customary for him to invite his
chief to a beer-drinking, at least once a year, and the latter accepts
the invitation. He is expected to attend the chief’s parliament,
unless he is under an elder brother, in which case he is not allowed
to speak, except when specially commissioned. Headmen are expected to
report all cases of war, but they often attack enemies without telling
their chief beforehand, saying, “Let him hear of the enterprise when
it succeeds”. Yet this is dangerous unless they are sure of success,
and well acquainted with the chief’s private sentiments. On reporting
the attack they present the chief with part of the booty. In times of
war each headman when summoned, must follow his chief’s flag, otherwise
his village is burned down, and all that fail to escape are killed or
enslaved.


73. COURTS OF JUSTICE.

Courts of justice are held in every village for trying cases that
occur among the villagers. These courts are identical with the village
parliament (68), and the members discuss the cases, some taking one
side and some the other. The supreme court is regularly held in the
chief’s village, and tries graver cases. It is identical with the supreme
parliament of which the village headmen are members. Although the village
headmen and the chiefs of the country preside over these courts, yet in
many trials their influence is less than that of the sorcerer or the
pounder of poison. Since the natives neither divide their days into
weeks nor number the days of their “moons,” they have no stated time for
holding courts, they just call them as occasion requires.


74. TRIALS.

In a trial the accuser speaks first, and the accused replies. Afterwards
the various members of the council (68, 70) give their views. Throughout
the speeches there are expressions of approval at the close of each
sentence, which serve to mark the punctuation. One man keeps crying out,
“Amao! Atati! Nangolo!” “Mother! Father! Parent!”—words extolling the
wisdom and experience of the speaker.

The chief or headman on settling a fine does not claim part of it. The
whole is paid over to the aggrieved persons, but if they thus obtain
several slaves, they will present the chief with one in consideration
of his services. The idea of friends paying each other is not agreeable
to the native mind. Professional men such as sorcerers and physicians
are paid, but transactions between a superior and his younger brother
take the form of presents. The natives show here a beautiful delicacy of
feeling that we are apt to overlook, amidst their obtrusive greed. An
unsophisticated chief will give a goat as a present, where he would scowl
very much at the idea of selling it, although it is true that he expects
the return present to be greater than the proper price. The services
of a judge are not such a hard task in this country: as there are no
newspapers the chief and his companions feel the need of something to
talk about.


75. EVIDENCE.

Though witnesses are appealed to, it must not be imagined that cases are
decided by their testimony as in England. Let a man be accused of theft,
and though six witnesses declare that they saw him steal, the case may
be as far from a settlement as if there had been no witness at all. The
accused cries, “I did not steal, give me the poison (mwai) and it will
prove my innocence”. If his friends think him innocent they support his
demand, for an innocent man (they believe) will vomit the poison, and
thus become entitled to receive a fine. But if they think him guilty
they will rather not appeal to the poison, for a guilty man will die in
great pain,[8] and his representatives must make full restitution. The
accusers of course, insist that the goods should be given back at once.
They do not wish to run the risk of the ordeal, for if the thief vomit,
they must pay him a fine, besides losing their goods. All the natives
believe that mwai is infallible, while they well know that the testimony
of their countrymen is not so. Were a judge to attempt to decide a native
case by ordinary evidence he would produce the strangest results. The
prosecutor would come with hundreds of his friends prepared to swear to
anything that was wanted. The defendant would come in like manner with
all his friends ready to swear against everything said by the opposite
party. Even though the alleged crime should be of the most secret
character, none of these persons would hesitate to swear that he had been
an eye-witness. To crown all, each man would attend the trial, “armed to
the teeth”. But when cases are decided by the poisoned cup, the natives
feel that an element of quiet solemnity is introduced. They see one of
their fellow creatures brought face to face with death. Here we encounter
the most deeply rooted faith that these tribes have. If they believe
in anything, it is in this ordeal. I once asked Kumpama of Cherasulo,
“What would you do if a man stole ivory and vomited the mwai, but was
afterwards found selling the stolen ivory?” His reply was, “If the man
stole the ivory he would not vomit the mwai, the mwai would kill him”. I
have made similar suppositions to many natives, and though I carefully
concealed my _petitio principii_, they at once pointed out that I was
supposing cases that could never occur.


76. DISCOVERY AND GENERAL TREATMENT OF CRIME.

Since evidence is of such small importance, how can the natives ever
discover criminals? They cannot use the poisoned cup for mere discovery,
because no freemen can be compelled to drink it without a reason. They
encounter a peculiar difficulty here, but they have a peculiar remedy.
Their method may be explained by showing how it works in the case of
theft. When a man finds his goods stolen and can get no trace of the
thief, he applies to the sorcerer. This personage takes up the case,
inspects the dry bones in his calabash, and in a short time is able to
declare the thief. The sorcerer usually trusts to his calabash alone, but
occasionally he makes men lay hold of a stick which after a time begins
to move as if endowed with life, and ultimately carries them off bodily
and with great speed to the house of the thief. When his divination is
completed, the sorcerer announces that he has “detected” (kamula) the
thief and then formally names him to the owner of the stolen goods. The
latter goes to the alleged thief, tells him that he has been detected
by the “oracle” and boldly charges him with the crime. When the theft
is proved either by the thief’s confession, or by the ordeal (75), the
pursuer demands his goods and a fine besides, and holds the headman of
the thief’s village responsible. It is always assumed, and generally
correctly, not only that the headman knows[9] of every theft committed
by his villagers, but that he has even received part of the plunder.
Where the accused party, in spite of the verdict of the oracle denies the
crime and survives the poisoned cup, the result brings discredit on the
sorcerer. As the poison is the infallible test, the sorcerer is proved to
have “detected” the wrong party. He accordingly loses his fee, and the
pursuer is not likely to put confidence in him again. Should the pursuer
still hope to recover his goods, he applies to another sorcerer, but the
latter must not “detect” the party that has just been accused. A person
cannot be asked to drink poison twice for the same charge.


_Caught in the Act._

When a criminal is caught stealing in a man’s house, the course of
justice is more speedy. The owner may kill him on the spot, and he
has the sanction of the law for doing so. The friends of the criminal
cannot complain. The thief deserved his doom for he was behaving like a
bewitcher—he had put himself beyond the pale of human rights, and was in
the position of a lion or a leopard. This holds good whether the theft
is by night or by day, whether the criminal is killed in the house or
after a long pursuit. The thief is generally well armed—a circumstance
which makes his capture more dangerous. But the injured party, for the
purpose of extorting a great ransom, often tries to secure the criminal.
On succeeding, he puts the captive in a slave-stick and sends a message
to the headman of his village, who will be glad to pay several slaves
in order to redeem his “brother”. Should the headman refuse to pay the
ransom the unfortunate “brother” is left entirely in the hands of the
prosecutor, and is liable to be killed, sold, or retained as a slave.
When it is known to what village the stolen “property” was taken, as in
cases of kidnapping, the injured party applies at once to the headman
of the guilty village, and if he can get no satisfaction, there arises
a state of war. The prosecutor captures the very first inhabitants of
the guilty village that come into his power, and then he keeps them in
slave-sticks until compensation is made. Here is a case where a lingering
imprisonment falls on persons that are entirely innocent, the only thing
against them being that they belong to a guilty village.


SUMMARY.

As native law is rather intricate, we give the following summary of
ordinary procedure in criminal cases.


_Detection._

The criminal (1) may be caught in the act, (2) may be known to have the
stolen goods in his possession, (3) may be detected by the sorcerer, or
(4) may be convicted on the confession of himself, or (5) the statements
of his accomplices and others. This last case (5) shows that, after all,
the natives cannot exclude testimony, and even in case (3) the sorcery
must derive all its value from ordinary evidence. The sorcerer has,
doubtless, many agents that are more useful than his calabash, although
it is for his interest to represent that all other evidence is of little
value as compared with his own inspiration.


_Proof._

In cases (1), (2), (4), no trial is needed. In cases (3) and (5) the mwai
is appealed to.


_Punishment._

The criminal is either killed or fined; imprisonment is rather a
preliminary step. In some cases, as in the poison ordeal, a fine is
demanded over and above the death. For all fines the headman of the
criminal’s village is responsible, but he can repay himself either from
the criminal or his relatives. He may even pay the criminal over to the
injured party, but in this case he loses a subject who may be related
either to himself or to some influential man in his village.

The demand of compensation over and above restitution seems to spring
from the constitution of human nature. A little child deprived of a
toy is not content to threaten or revile (or whatever the infantile
manifestation of feeling may mean), while the toy is in the hands of the
aggressor. He pours out the same torrent of hostile feeling after the toy
has been restored. Besides, there are cases in which _mere_ restitution
would not be sufficient compensation for the injury sustained.




CHAPTER XI.

PERSONAL RIGHTS AND OFFENCES AGAINST THEM.


77. PERSONAL RIGHTS—SLAVERY.

    “For he (_i.e._, the slave) is his money”—_Exodus_ xxi. 21.
    “If his master have given him a wife, and she have born him
    sons and daughters, the wife and her children shall be her
    master’s.”—_Exodus_ xxi. 4.

I once heard a native remark in a village assembly, “A fowl is a fowl,
a goat is a goat,—well, what am I?” It is often maintained that among
savages no rights are recognised except rights of property. But although
native jurisprudence deals mainly with questions of property, here was a
savage using as strong an argument for personal rights as any philosopher
could employ.

There is a great difference between the treatment of a free-man, and
the treatment of the “thing” or “flesh” called a slave. The following
sections (78-102) apply chiefly to freemen, and many points have no
application to slaves, for instance, the goods of a deceased slave (if
“goods” can be said to possess goods), do not go to his brother but to
his master.

The word for “free” (mlukosyo) literally means “belonging to the tribe
or family,” and shows how slavery was originally viewed—the slaves did
not belong to the “family”. A freeman becomes a slave when _captured_.
He may be captured by an enemy or by one that has a quarrel either with
himself or with the village that he belongs to. Freemen may be _enslaved
by relatives_ or by superiors. Often a man will pay a debt by giving up
his own kindred to his prosecutor. Those most liable to this treatment
are his sisters, after that his daughters, then his brothers, and then
his father and mother. In clearing off a heavy debt a native first pays
over his slaves, next his inferior wives, and then his relatives in the
above order. Sometimes one pawns his relatives only, if he cannot redeem
his pledges promptly, he may find them sold. A freeman may become a slave
_voluntarily_, as when he is in want during a time of scarcity. A man may
also become the slave of a master that possesses many females in order to
get a wife from him. A person may be a slave by _birth_. If his parents
be both slaves he belongs to their master. When a female slave bears
a child to a freeman, the child belongs not to its father, but to its
mother’s master.

Slaves become free when redeemed or when their master grants them
liberty. Persons that have been long in slavery may be redeemed by
relatives. Some say that a slave may redeem himself by presenting to
his master another slave whom he may have bought or captured in war.
Other native authorities, especially the older men, deny this most
strongly, and no doubt correctly, as everything that a slave can
possess belongs really to his master. But the older views are now being
modified by contact with English Missionaries. Before the arrival of the
missions, slaves could obtain nothing except from their master himself,
who supplied them with clothing; when the missions came they had an
opportunity of working for pay.

When a slave earns wages, his owner may no doubt claim the whole of
it, but some masters among the Yao are said not to exercise this right
to the full extent. They allow the slave to retain a great part of his
earnings, so much so that he will occasionally remark, “Ah! my master
is poor to-day, I must give him some cloth”. Such masters look with
satisfaction on the increasing hoards of their slaves in the same way
as an English employer delights to see his labourer in a condition of
comfort. They will even boast of the rich slaves that they possess. Every
owner of property finds slavery the most profitable investment. One of
the slave’s duties is to procure other slaves (_i.e._, more property) for
his master. Each male slave is allowed to build a house for himself. He
may also get a wife (59) who, however, may be taken from him again. He is
politely called his master’s “child” (mwanache), the more offensive word
“slave” (mkapolo) being seldom used. Still the time, the talents, and the
very lives of slaves are entirely in their master’s hand. However great
a ransom they may offer, if the master refuse to take it, no one in the
country can legally set them free. The master’s power is absolute. The
only check that he feels is this,—he says, “If I treat my slaves badly,
one day they will find me alone, take courage (mbilimo) and kill me”.
But a slave would think twice before adopting such a desperate measure.
If he murdered a freeman he would run as fast as Moses ran to Midian, and
with as good reason.


78. KILLING SLAVES OR WARDS.

If a master kill one of his slaves, no one can bring a complaint against
him. People that hear of the matter merely say, “That man is very stupid
to destroy his own property”. The companions of the deceased—his fellow
slaves—may venture to plead, “Why did you kill him, he did no adultery?”
but the master silences them, by pointing out that the deceased was
his “goods” (chipanje), or his “flesh” (nyama). But after killing a
slave, the master is afraid of _Chilope_. This means that he will become
emaciated, lose his eyesight, and ultimately die a miserable death. He
therefore goes to his chief and gives him a certain fee (in cloth or
slaves or such legal tenders), and says, “Get me a charm (_luasi_),
because I have slain a man”. When he has used this charm, which may be
either drunk or administered in a bath, the danger passes away. In the
same manner, if a man kill his younger brother, or anyone under his
charge, there is no case against the murderer. For one thing, there is no
prosecutor, and moreover, relatives may be treated as slaves (77). If a
man have a fatal quarrel with his ward, he finds it a sufficient excuse
to say, “The deceased began it”. But if his ward or even his slave be
killed by another party, the guardian at once becomes prosecutor, and
does not rest till he obtains the fullest compensation.


79. KILLING ENEMIES.

When an enemy is killed, there is a desire to secure portions (_ikawo_)
of his body (36), which is mutilated accordingly. The parts[10] generally
taken are the eyebrows, nose, little finger or toe, and the pudenda. If
there be no danger of interruption, the man or woman thus mutilated, will
be also disembowelled and the heart plucked out. The portions thus cut
from a body, are roasted or burned till quite reduced to ashes (_sile_).
They are then used as charms in various ways. The savage makes tatoos
(_malaka_) in his arm and rubs the ashes into them. Or he cooks gruel
(likoko) and stirs the ashes into it. This dreadful mixture of flour and
flesh, must be lapped with the tongue, as it would be “unlucky” to eat it
with the hands. There are several devices for facilitating the lapping
process, such as pouring the mixture from one dish to another and licking
the bottom of the emptied dish. Another way of using this weird and
awful charm, is as an amulet (njilīsi)—the ashes are mixed with castor
oil and sewed up in a small bag, which is worn round the neck or about
the loins. I knew one headman whose great success in war was attributed
to the fact that he had eaten “the whole body of a strong young man”.
But if he had not been protected by powerful charms, such cannibalism
might have been dangerous to him. The person that eats a human being is
believed to run a great risk. Even the person that kills a human being,
though the victim be only a slave (78), must take certain steps to quiet
his conscience. In most cases the murderer tells the chief of the country
who procures a charm from his medicine man. Of this charm the chief
himself also partakes that he may not be unlucky “because of the blood
that has been shed in his land”. If the chief sent the person to kill the
deceased, he now presents him with a slave or some such reward. So when
a headman makes an attack and kills a party on his own responsibility
(72), the chief if approving rewards all that went on the expedition.
He also kills a goat for them. At this feast they must not eat salt
until a charm is first put in the food. If the chief disapprove of the
attack, he exacts a heavy fine, which he usually settles as follows:—When
the injured parties retaliate, and kill or capture some of the chief’s
subjects, he makes this headman pay the relatives for their loss. So when
the chief wants to dissuade a headman from dangerous wars, he says to
him, “Remember you will have to pay for all the slain”.


80. PUNISHMENT OF MURDER.

If one man slay another, the friends of the deceased are justified in
killing the murderer on the spot (76). But if they catch him alive they
put him in a slave-stick, till compensation be made by a heavy fine of
from 4 to 20 slaves. When the fine is paid the life of the murderer is
not demanded, but several of the slaves obtained in compensation are
killed to accompany the deceased (39). The rest of them are retained:
indeed, the friends of the murdered man look not so much to his sad fate
as to the possibility of making gain by it. If the murderer escape, some
one connected with him is captured, and a message is sent to the friends
in this form, “You have slain our brother, we have caught yours, and we
will send him after our brother unless you pay a ransom”. The ransom is
expected to include some slaves to accompany the deceased. The captive if
not redeemed is entirely at the disposal of the injured party and that
for life or death. The above applies to murders occurring among parties
friendly toward each other, and living perhaps in the same village. But
should a man go to another village and commit murder, the act, if no
explanation be granted, is held to be a declaration of war. When the
injured village is strong, the other villagers will all be killed or
enslaved without delay. Where the village is not so sure of its strength,
its headman goes to the chief of the country and presents him with a
slave, saying, “I desire your help, I want to punish that other village”.
If the chief has already failed to bring the aggressors to reason, he
receives the present, promises help, and soon the guilty village is
annihilated.


81. PUNISHMENT OF HOMICIDE.

The natives are aware of the difference between murder and homicide,
but the punishment of the two crimes is often the same. A man enters a
village, puts down his gun which goes off and kills a person. The gun
is claimed by the friends of the deceased. It is worth several slaves,
and the owner may be as anxious to redeem it as he would have been to
redeem his brother. When there is no gun to pledge, the homicide is put
in a slave-stick and retained just as in murder (80), and the surviving
relatives are equally anxious to slay persons to accompany the deceased.
Some native authorities take a more lenient view of homicide. Instead of
seizing the party or his gun, they pronounce him quite blameless, and go
to the sorcerer to discover the bewitcher who has been the real cause of
the death. They hold that it is this being that must bear the whole of
the responsibility. They use a simile here that is borrowed from hunting
customs. The hunter that first wounds a buck claims it, even though it be
ultimately brought down by another man. The man that brings the buck down
is only the finder, as it were, of another man’s game (juakupakanila):
so the homicide only found or brought down the victim that the witch had
already destroyed; he is not the cause but the occasion of the death.
Some insist that although the homicide may protest his innocence and
affirm that he is the victim of some witch, he must pay damages all the
same. I once saw two men tried for a disturbance committed while they
were drunk. The person that had supplied them with beer was also brought
up, and was afraid that he should be supposed to have bewitched the
beer. A still deeper terror hovered over his speech, “Perhaps he himself
and his beer were both bewitched, and used as a cat’s paw by some other
person”.


82. PUNISHMENT OF UNCHASTITY.

We already mentioned (56) that a man may have an opportunity of
contracting a marriage with an adult female and that he may ascertain her
sentiments privately. Long ago I was told by one qualified to speak on
African customs, that a native man would not pass a solitary woman, and
that her refusal of him would be so contrary to custom that he might kill
her. Of course, this would apply only to females that are not engaged.
A girl with no claim upon her readily agrees to marriage, and the man
will marry her although he have several wives already. But if a betrothed
girl be seduced, the crime is treated as adultery and may be punished by
death. Her intended husband has a right to kill the guilty man. In cases
of adultery the injured husband may in like manner kill the seducer. As
for the woman, her first offence may be condoned, but subsequent offences
cause divorce or death. When a wife has been guilty, her husband will
die if he taste any food that she has salted. As a consequence of this
superstition a wife is very liable to be accused of killing her husband.
When women are preparing their husband’s food they may ask a little girl
to put the salt in it. With a faithless wife the husband cannot live
until a third party (mjinjila nyumba) has been with her. The name of this
party is concealed from the husband who, from jealousy, might kill him.
After the ceremony, the husband and wife may live together again. Several
of these observances are explained and enjoined at the mysteries (52). As
adultery is a crime not easily proven, the native appeal to the sorcerer,
or the ordeal in such charges has a peculiar significance—it always leads
to a definite decision.




CHAPTER XII.

RIGHTS OF PROPERTY AND OFFENCES AGAINST THEM.


83. PUBLIC PROPERTY.

In Britain, the land belongs to a proprietor, so that if another person
go into the woods and cut a tree, he is trespassing and damaging
property, if he shoot a deer he is a poacher. But among these Africans
one may cut as many trees as he wishes, and hunt as long as he chooses.
This is not because the land is common property. In the Yao language the
chief is expressly called the “owner of the soil”. It is rather because
trees are so abundant and grow so fast that the natives are anxious to
keep them down. In the same way deer are plentiful, and it is better to
let man feast on them than to leave them for the lion or the vulture. The
natives seem to be placed on certain spots for the purpose of subduing
the country and maintaining their right to exist against the wild animals
around them, and this must have been so to a much greater extent at the
time when these tribes formed their ‘social contract’. Even as it is,
man looks a very puny object when placed amidst the vastness of the
African jungle. Human beings are quite lost among the grass, not to
mention the trees and bushes. Hence “to catch a man among the grass” is a
proverbial expression which means to do one an injury in secret.

[Illustration: NATIVES IN THE AFRICAN JUNGLE.]

I shall make a few remarks, first on various kinds of public property
(84-91), and next on private property.


84. LAND.

A man may hoe as much land as he pleases, and for any purpose. He may
make trenches for entrapping deer, he may cut up the ground for great
distances in search of moles for his dinner, or he may begin to plant and
make a farm (62). He must never cultivate ground that has been betrothed
by another party. But as soon as he hoes a field the ground is entirely
his own. He hoes, and plants, and builds, without paying any tax or rent.

It has been said with reference to various parts of Africa, that the soil
belongs to the tribe and that, according to the native idea, no chief
has a right to make grants of land. But I found chiefs always willing
to grant as much land as they were asked for. It would be more correct
to say that these natives do not know what can be the use of Perpetual
property in land: when _their_ fields are farmed for two or three years,
the soil yields a poor return, and they find it necessary to go to new
ground.


85. TIMBER.

One may cut wood wherever he chooses. I knew a chief ask strangers to pay
for trees that were cut to make canoes; but he let his own subjects fell
the largest trees without demanding any tax.

At the time of the Mission’s arrival, the Blantyre district was covered
with a dense jungle, which contained not only an impassable mass of young
trees, but also a sprinkling of old ones. About twenty years before, the
ground had been farmed over by natives who had then cut down the timber
for manure and firewood, sparing only those larger trees, some of which
had been the prayer trees of their old villages.


86. ROADS.

Any person may hoe up a public road. Many a time have I found it
difficult to keep the path after a new village had risen in its
neighbourhood, although I had been familiar with the king’s highway
before. When the owner of a farm puts a bunch of thorns on a path, every
bare-legged native understands the signal. Still the road cannot be
closed altogether, it will take a graceful curve round the side of the
new farm. Where it passes through the centre of a large field the farmer
leaves it alone. It is so hard that he prefers to try his hoe on the
surrounding soil.


87. MINERALS.

Where one has a right to hoe at all, he has a right to all the minerals
that he may find, but if he dig much iron and make many hoes, he is
expected to present some to the chief of the country. No one in this
district knows about gold or silver. A piece of calico is more valued
than all the coins of the Bank of England would be.


88. BUILDING MATERIALS.

Grass, reeds, bamboos, and other materials used for erecting huts may be
cut anywhere. In the dry season the country is covered with grass of
from two to eight feet high, according to the richness of the soil. This
mass of vegetation will make an enormous blaze. Some set it on fire to
catch deer or buffalo, others to catch field-mice, and others for mere
sport. Anyone may burn the grass, but if the flames spread to a village
or a corn field, the fire-raiser is responsible for the consequences.


89. STREAMS AND RIVERS.

In this district one may draw water, bathe, or catch fish anywhere. When
a number of men have to cross a stream at a place where they see women
bathing, they shout out “Travellers! Travellers!” (alendo). So when a
woman comes to a stream and sees a man approaching, she will often turn
back with her water-pot, saying, “Perhaps he wants to bathe”. There are
certain superstitions also, and it is very common when walking along a
stream even in the morning (when no one bathes), to see women emerge
from a village and retreat as soon as they observe men advancing. As to
fishing, there is no restriction, and the natives use the euphorbia tree
(mtutu) which kills fish much as lime would do.


90. HUNTING.

Any resident or traveller has a right to hunt. On shooting a large buck
or an elephant, he is expected to send the chief a present. But if he
be far from the chief’s principal village he seldom does so. A company
of native travellers who shoot a buffalo out in the bush far from the
abodes of men, will use the whole of it themselves. Strangers may be
imposed on by headmen, who, although loud in making demands, have no
right to such a present. But their claiming it, shows how much they
regard themselves as being separate kings. English hunters used to obtain
a great amount of ivory not far from Blantyre, much of it being shot in
No-man’s-land. The Mangoni first drove off the Yao, and then receded
themselves, leaving the country unoccupied.


91. TRAVELLING.

As a matter of theory, a person may travel in this part of the country
without asking permission, but unless well acquainted with the chiefs and
the people, a foreigner will find it awkward to go without a guide. It is
easy, however, except in times of war, to get a guide from one chief to
the next. The right to travel naturally implies the right to hunt; arms
must be carried for protection and may be used to obtain food.


92. PRIVATE PROPERTY.

Were a native to count over the items of his property he would give a
list like this:—(1) His chief wife, whom, however, he cannot sell (60).
(2) Inferior wives (masulila) with their children. (3) Female slaves not
related to him (achambumba pa mlango pao), who may be given as wives to
his male slaves. (4) Male slaves (achachanda), who, although valuable in
times of war, fetch lower prices than females. (5) His money, _i.e._,
cloth and beads (which except in the neighbourhood of the Mission are
small items of native property): arrow-heads, hoes, and indeed most
articles are used in bartering. (6) Implements and weapons—axes, hoes,
mortars, baskets, guns, spears, &c. (7) Houses, crops, fowls. In this
list he may include his sisters or other relatives, who are to a great
extent at his disposal (77). If rich, he may possess also a tusk of
ivory, or a few goats. When an attack is made a native that saves his
life has little to lose. The greater part of his property can run with
him and carry all his moveables. Each wife takes a child on her back, and
a basket with all her goods on her head. The houses are left, but the
party can make a shelter in a few minutes. The crop is the man’s greatest
loss, the roots and leaves of the jungle do not taste so well as his
porridge.


93. BORROWING AND LENDING.

The natives are fond of borrowing from each other. If a school-boy
possess an unusual dress, it goes round the whole of his companions.
Often a native begs for cloth, and when told that he has enough, he
replies, “All that I am wearing is borrowed”. Likely this statement is
false, but the custom of borrowing is so common as to make the falsehood
plausible. If a woman at Quilimane lend a pot, she expects on its return
to receive something for the use of it, but the more primitive natives
about Blantyre lend “hoping for nothing again,” in the shape of interest.


94. PETTY THEFT.

Many cases of pilfering dealt with by village headmen we might call petty
thefts. Natives possess so little property that nearly all stealing from
them comes under this head. Plucking the ears of corn in a field is not
criminal. The person that takes a cob of maize leaves the stalk so as to
convey a well-known meaning to the farmer, who as he looks at the signal
is able to say, “Oh! it is a poor man that has eaten because of hunger,”
or “It is my friend that has helped himself”. But if the smallest article
be taken by an enemy, a disturbance arises. Natives are fairly honest
among each other. When one is plundered by a companion he exclaims,
“If you had stolen from a white man, then I could have understood it,
but to steal from a black man——”. Several articles were once carried
off from the Mission Station. As a rule, when theft is mentioned, the
natives say stealing is “very bad,” “some black men do not know how to
steal, other black men are very bad”. But one little fellow, on this
occasion, took a milder view of the matter and said to his instructor,
“Black man very poor, ma’am”. Among the older natives, however, a
tendency to extenuate is seldom found, and often we see cases like that
mentioned by Livingstone, where a person had to drink mwai for taking
a few ears of corn. One circumstance that makes even petty theft very
heinous in the eyes of the native is that the thief is identified with
the Bewitchers (106). He uses “medicine” like them, and employs “horns”
in the same way. He has a charm (chitaka) that enables him to go to a
sleeper at night and ask, “Where are your hoes? Where are your beads?”
So complete is his power over his victims, that he makes them answer all
such questions without waking, and so secure does he feel that he cooks
porridge and takes a meal before leaving the plundered house. So much
is thief-medicine believed in that few venture to steal without seeking
the proper charm. Hence it is that a thief becomes an object of disgust,
and may lose his life for taking a few articles which he might have got
by simply asking the owner. The native view about witches modifies the
whole civil code. Any offence may be brought under the terrible crime of
witchcraft. If a wife run away it is easy to convince her husband that
she would not have done so but for powerful “witchery” used against her.

The following statement sent me by Mr. Buchanan of Zomba will further
illustrate the law of theft:—

After mentioning that “a man found stealing is in the position of a
baboon, hyæna, or hog, etc., and is as liable to be shot down as any
of these animals,” Mr. Buchanan says, “Kasanda, one of my gaffers, had
charge of a gang of women who were carrying clay from a swamp about a
mile distant, and I allowed him a gun partly because kidnapping was rife
at the time, and partly because he had seen an eland as he went to the
clay hole the previous day. When returning in the evening he heard a
crashing noise in a clump of sugar cane just over the stream. Crossing
as quickly and as quietly as possible, he reached the spot unobserved,
and found a man tying up a large bundle of cane. He challenged the
thief, presented the gun, and had the case been his own, or had he been
serving a native chief, he would most undoubtedly have given the rascal
its contents, but knowing that the English discouraged such customs, and
doubtful how I would look on such an act, he allowed the man to escape.
The following day I sent for Kalimbuka, showed him the bundle of cane,
and stated what had happened. Several of his counsellors accompanied him,
and all were unanimous in asserting that according to native law Kasanda
had committed an egregious blunder in not shooting the thief dead. While
strongly objecting to this mode of procedure, I earnestly enquired if
such was really the law of the country, and found that it was. I remember
too that when Mr. Macdonald and I went to visit Malemya, his prime
minister told us of an instance in which this law had been carried out to
the bitter end. A man from Chikala had stolen yams belonging to Malemya’s
people, the owners lay in wait, and the thief returning a second time
was shot dead. But when a man detects a thief in his field during the
day, and knows the thief well, he need not shoot or capture him unless
he likes. He may march to the man’s village, ask the chief to turn out
his men, and then point out the depredator, who, if not redeemed, becomes
the lawful property of the man who owned the stolen stuff (it matters not
what it be).”


95. THEFT AND ROBBERY.

All the above-mentioned classes of property (92) are liable to be
pilfered, and among these tribes it is perhaps human beings that are
oftenest stolen. We do not now dwell on theft as we have taken it
to illustrate the general treatment of crime (76). When the injured
party demands redress, the refusal is a declaration of war. Robbery
with violence and bloodshed is a declaration of war almost under any
circumstances.


96. MISCELLANEOUS CRIMES AND PENALTIES.

Besides direct breaches of the 6th, 7th, and 8th commandments of the
Decalogue, which are all punishable by death, there are many other crimes
recognised and punished by native law. Burning a neighbour’s house,
setting fire to the bush and destroying his crops, and trespassing so as
to cause damage, are instances that have suggested to the native the _lex
talionis_. To the question “What would you do if your neighbour destroyed
your crop?” comes the prompt reply, “I would take his,” and many injuries
or accidents that result in the loss of property are settled accordingly.
Abusing another person—defamation of character—is also paid back in kind,
unless the stronger party give the other a beating to the bargain. To be
called a liar is rather a compliment, but to be called a bewitcher is
much resented. When a woman charges another with adultery, the fight is
often furious; they bite and scratch each other till they are covered
with blood and the dust or mud of the highway.

Fines may be paid in slaves or any other kind of property except ivory.
An offender may be bound over to keep the peace. When convicted of some
misdeed, he presents his superior with a spear, saying, “Kill me if I
offend you again”. The token is common between slaves and their masters.
In reviewing native punishments we find that almost every offence may be
punished by death, but when an offender is not redeemed, the particular
punishment is left to the headman of the injured party. For instance,
if a headman of Kumpama’s go and say, “Chenyono has killed a subject of
mine; I have caught a subject of his and want to kill him,” the chief’s
answer will be, “He has done you wrong, do according to your heart” (poli
mtima wenu). The punishment is thus inflicted not by the criminal’s
own chief but by the injured party, and it may fall, not on the guilty
person, but on one connected with him. It is when a man transgresses
against his own village-chief that _personal responsibility_ is brought
home to him. When he transgresses against another village, his own chief
pays for him. Of punishments inflicted for small offences by superiors
on their own wards, imprisonment in a slave-stick is common, and may
be inflicted by a husband on his wives, or by the chief wife on her
subordinates. _Beating_ is another punishment. When a slave is sent to
keep off the monkeys, and lets them eat the corn, he will taste the rod:
so will a child, or even a younger brother. These beatings when inflicted
are very severe, but they are rarely needed, slaves being generally
obedient, and young people respectful. _Justice is evaded_ by running to
the country of a hostile chief. It is common (as it is prudent) for a
fugitive to steal something from his present chief as a gift to the man
that receives him.




CHAPTER XIII.

INHERITANCE AND INTERNATIONAL LAW.


97. INHERITANCE.

    “... the wife of the dead shall not marry without unto a
    stranger; her husband’s brother shall go in unto her and take
    her to him to wife.”—DEUT. xxv. 5.

When a man dies, part of his goods is buried with him, part goes to pay
the precentor at the wake, and to feast the undertakers and friends.
Besides these and such like funeral expenses, there is the cost of the
legal investigation into the cause of death, and this item if not repaid
by damages from the bewitcher (107), will be the most expensive piece
of mourning. The remainder of his property (92), including his wives
and children, passes on, without any government tax, to his heir. The
nearest heir is his eldest brother, who obtains complete possession.
This is no hardship to younger brothers, who will succeed in their turn.
Failing a brother, there comes the eldest sister, not indeed herself
but her son, so that the next heir after a man’s younger brother is his
nephew (mwipwagwao). By this custom a man’s own children are purposely
set aside. When we tell the natives about the English law of succession,
they say that it is “very stupid”. They want to be sure that the heir
really has the family blood in his veins, and they cannot trust that
a man’s sons answer to this description. The same laws of inheritance
are found in various parts of Africa—as for instance among the Ashanti
on the Western Coast. Any will that attempted to strike at this custom
would be at once set aside. Where writing is unknown, written wills are
impossible, but no will would be recognised except perhaps in the case
of some trifling matters. If the rightful heir be a minor (_i.e._, a
mere child), some one takes the inheritance till he comes of age. The
first-born always has the precedence, the younger brother being nothing
while the elder is alive. We saw an amusing illustration of this in the
case of our own two children. On the birth of the first, the relatives of
the chief Kapeni patronised him and even proposed a wife for him, while
all the natives called him little Kapeni. But the second child they took
no notice of, he was merely “the younger brother of little Kapeni”. The
heir pays any debt that may be on the inheritance, he also takes the risk
of the “witchcraft” trial. If his predecessor died by witchcraft, he
receives a large fine from the bewitcher’s estate, but if his predecessor
died by the poison (mwai), he pays a fine to the bewitched persons, or
their representatives. The great majority of the natives are the victims
of witchcraft one way or other. They either die of witchcraft themselves
(106), or are poisoned because they bewitched some one else. On the day
of entering on his inheritance the heir marries not only the inferior
wives, but the chief wife of his predecessor (43). Should she have
property her sureties look after her interest. A married woman, if free,
may have property—she may be a herbalist, or a “cook” at the mysteries,
or she may make money by her flour and fowls. When a wife dies possessing
wealth, her husband to keep off the “surety” (48), asks a younger sister
to marry him, and take charge of (kwachinga) the children. If he cannot
succeed in this, the goods may be divided, part going to the husband and
part to the sureties of the wife.


98. SUCCESSION TO THE CHIEFTAINSHIP.

The order of this succession is the same as in ordinary inheritance.
The chief’s nearest heir is the eldest of his brothers (97), who will
be younger than the chief himself, otherwise he would have had a prior
claim to the title. Next to younger brothers come nephews, but not the
sons of a brother, who are really reckoned the sons of the chief (60).
Occasionally natives set aside this order of succession. The parties
concerned are—(1) The deceased man’s slaves. (2) His wives and children,
many of whom are also slaves. (3) Headmen related to the chief. (4)
Headmen not related to the chief. The 3rd class are not impartial judges,
because some of them may be candidates for the throne. The 4th class,
however, often do much to settle disputes. But strange to say, it is the
slaves and wives, the 1st and 2nd class, that raise the loudest voice.
They are a numerous and powerful body, and may contain some of the old
chief’s best fighters. On the death of the former Malemya of Zomba, there
survived a younger brother Kumtaja, who, so far as birth went, was the
rightful heir; but there was also a nephew called Kasabola. Kumtaja urged
his claim, but the slaves (achachanda) disliked him, and so did many of
the headmen (alambi). Moreover, all the wives of the old chief desired
Kasabola, and quoted a saying of the deceased chief in his favour. The
Alambi said, “If Kumtaja enter Malemya’s village, all that reside there
will run away,” and accordingly Kasabola was made “Malemya”. Still it
is dangerous to tamper with the law of the land. Kumtaja set up an
independent kingdom, taking to him such headmen as would go; and had
there been a division among the wives or slaves, he might have claimed
all that wished to adhere to him.

At an installation there are several ceremonies, which, however, vary
among different tribes. The new chief first gets a severe lecture, in
which he is told that he must be hospitable and not beat his people too
much. Afterwards he is formally installed in office (34). His temples
are girt with the brow-band (ndawila), which he will henceforth wear on
every formal occasion. He is then called by his new name, and received
with songs of rejoicing. His assumption of the name is much dwelt on.
When old Kapeni of Sochi became chief in the distant Yao country, before
his tribe migrated, the songs and the response, “Awo Kapeni ’wo” (that
is Kapeni), produced an impression that is fresh in the memory of his
people to this day. The chief may appoint a high priest (jua mbepesi) of
his government, who is also called his captain. It is the duty of this
man to carry the chief’s banner and lead his army. The chief seldom goes
to battle; “he stays behind to supply powder and deal with deserters”.
Another duty of the high priest is to find out whether war is to be
successful, but if he fail to get a favourable answer, the chief himself
presents the offering, for just as every headman is the priest of his
village (7), so the chief is the real high priest of the country. If the
army go forth and be thoroughly defeated after the offerings declare
victory to be certain, the people simply say, “Our God has deceived us”.
When the chief has a beer-drinking, his priest or captain brings out the
beer to the guests, and tastes it to show that it is not poisoned. In
the case of English visitors, the Magololo headmen taste all the food
themselves, but at Kapeni’s capital his priest generally performs the
ceremony. When there is a witch-dance at a place where the chief cannot
attend, the priest is sent to represent him, and takes a prominent place
in beating the drums. Many ceremonies seen at a chief’s installation are
observed when any one succeeds to a village. Moreover, since it is only
certain families that have brow-bands, a headman may wear the badge where
his chief has no right to do so. Headmen don it when presiding at trials,
or when they go to a beer-drinking in full dress!


99. INTERNATIONAL LAW.

Disputes between a master and his slave, between a governor and his ward,
between a headman and his villager, or between a chief and his headman,
are easily settled by the power of the Superior. But disputes between
different villages are more puzzling. If a man of Chingota’s kill a man
of Matope’s in Chuma’s village, the three headmen may be involved only,
when all belong to one chief, reference is ultimately made to him. But
when they belong to different chiefs the case is rendered more dangerous,
as their respective chiefs may become parties. The following instances
show how cases between chiefs are settled. If a subject of Malemya be
killed in a village of Kapeni’s by men of Kumpama,[11] Malemya expects
Kapeni to catch the criminals and hand them over to him; and Kapeni
must do so, otherwise he becomes a party to the crime. Kumpama sends a
message to Kapeni asking, “Where are those men of mine that went to your
territory?” and Kapeni refers him both now and in all subsequent steps of
the dispute to Malemya. The chief of a country thus takes cognisance of
crimes committed in his land not by punishing the guilty parties himself,
but by handing them over to the injured. Again, suppose that Malemya’s
men when carrying goods for Kapeni were plundered by subjects of Kumpama,
if the deed be done in Malemya’s territory, Malemya takes the matter up,
but if the goods be once out of his territory, Kapeni becomes prosecutor.
In either case Kumpama is asked to surrender the thieves, and is liable
to punishment, either because he is a party to the theft, or because he
fails to govern his kingdom in the proper way.


100. GENERAL REMARKS ON NATIVE LAW.

As law is a subject of great complexity in all countries, it must not
be supposed that we have settled every question. In a native dispute
difficulties may arise regarding the form of prosecution, the form of
evidence, the proper court, the position and members of that court,
and in short at every step. These _special_ difficulties are settled
according to the merits of each case: and cannot be here solved without
treating the subject with a minuteness that would be too tedious for the
most ardent student of African customs.


101. WAR.

As war may begin in Africa without any provocation at all, trivial
reasons are quite sufficient to produce bloody feuds. Hence, quarrels
that in civilised countries would be mere law suits become occasions
for war. A chief _declares_ war by killing or kidnapping some of his
enemies. He may either find them on a journey, or send an expedition to
their villages. Deeds of this kind proclaim that a messenger sent to the
aggressor will be either slain or sent back mutilated, the two parties
are now declared enemies, and all friendly intercourse is at an end. War
may be declared on a travelling party by simply calling out “ngondo”
(war). The natives _conduct_ war by making a series of attacks in order
to plunder or to destroy by fire and sword. The Yao chiefs say that
they do not attack by night—“to attack by night is a sneaking piece of
conduct fit only for the Anyasa and the Achipeta”. But they can explain
with great relish the method of night attack. A band of men go to an
enemy’s village when the people are all in bed. They carry sticks finely
sharpened at the point (songa), and place them in the ground right before
the hut doors, and in such a way that a native coming hastily out of
the house in his usual dress will run one of them into his body. After
setting this trap, the invaders apply fire to the various houses, and
then look on with loaded guns. Sometimes they tie up the doors before
setting the houses on fire, but unless their animosity be very deadly,
they will not burn all their foes. It is more profitable to capture the
women and children for sale. The boldest of their enemies will be the
first to rush forth to investigate the disturbance, and once they have
impaled themselves on the sharp-pointed sticks, their wives can easily be
captured.

A war may _end_ in various ways. One of the parties may be entirely
broken and driven from the country, their wives and children becoming
slaves. Or the weaker may succeed in buying a peace. Two hostile chiefs
may continue beside each other for many years, afraid to risk anything
more serious than kidnapping. Since the natives trust greatly to war
medicine, a small chief that long maintains his position against a
stronger, and occasionally gains a battle, is believed to have a powerful
“medicine,” and is feared accordingly. Native wars frequently cause more
deaths through famine than through actual slaughter. All natives confess
that war is “bad,” but strangely enough each race values itself upon its
military powers. Even the Achipeta, although they have been completely
vanquished by the Mangoni, will boast, “In our country we know nothing
but war”.

Natives jump and swing their guns about by way of making a war dance,
but these evolutions being originally adapted for their long spears, are
unsuitable for guns. The Mangoni, like the Zulus, have a special training
for war.

Native fights remind one of the days of Homer. A good tongue is as
essential as a good spear. So long as a combatant has courage to demand
his rights, the fact that the enemy has “eaten” a number of his followers
is regarded as mere by-play.




CHAPTER XIV.

A SLAVE GOVERNMENT.


102. THE MAGOLOLO.

As an illustration of a Slave Government, we shall here insert a few
remarks on the Magololo, who are half-a-dozen men that came with Dr.
Livingstone a journey of “many moons” from the south of the Zambeze—from
the land, which on maps of Africa is marked Makololo. Hitherto we have
spoken of chiefs and headmen ruling among free people. The native word
for “free” means “belonging to the tribe,” and implies that persons
falling into the power of another tribe lose their rights. The Anyasa
under the Magololo are in the hands of aliens, by whom they are
consequently treated as if they were captives. When not promptly obeyed,
a Magololo cries, “All the Anyasa are my slaves”; hence although he
has many good points about him, his government is severe, and he is
more suspicious than the Yao chiefs who rule their own kinsmen. “The
Magololo,” according to Mr. Rowley (277), “sprung all at once from a
condition little removed from bondage to that of lords of the creation.
When left by Dr. Livingstone, they had little but their guns and
ammunition. With guns they knew themselves to be formidable. They hunted
the slavers far and near, released captives and took the plunder. The
women thus released they took for wives, the men and boys they kept for
slaves. They had no sheep, goats, nor corn, but the Anyasa had, and as
in their own country, the possession of cattle by a neighbour is a good
_casus belli_, they were prepared to make war on the Anyasa for their
flocks and corn, if the latter did not yield them without resistance.
The Anyasa yielded, and thus arose the bleating of sheep and goats, the
cackling of fowls and the well-stocked houses of corn in the Magololo
habitations.” “It was a great mistake on the part of Dr. Livingstone to
leave the Makololo at Chibisa’s unprovided with everything but arms. They
were identified with the English—they adopted our name in their raids.”
The remark that these men are identified with the English holds true
to this day. Chiputula, one of the Magololo, was viewed by Matekenya
as a “child” or “subject” of the English, and Matekenya often put the
question, “What will the English do if I kill Chiputula?” The latter
used to be constantly entreating us to send messages to Matekenya: and
Dr. Macklin once brought up a “son” of Matekenya to conclude a peace
with Chiputula. “Mangokwe talked of driving them out of the country, but
they would have driven like sheep five times the number of Anyasa that
Mangokwe could have brought against them, and so he appeared to think
...” (2nd edition, p. 278). “They had plundered the country on all sides,
and so great was the terror of them that the Anyasa were afraid to come
to us with food. It was necessary, therefore, to take vigorous measures,
and catching one of them (in the act of stealing), I laid hold of a stick
and gave the fellow a good thrashing.”

The writer describes how they continued amenable to the authority of
the English. When the Scotch Missions settled in Central Africa, these
Magololo readily sent their sons first to the Free Church Mission, and
subsequently to Blantyre, which was nearer their home. This was due to
their previous acquaintance with the “English”. Some Magololo children
came to Blantyre about a month after my arrival. But I wrought steadily
in school for three years afterwards, before Kapeni, the Yao chief, sent
his sons.

During the time of flight and famine, the beginning of which is described
by Mr. Rowley, some headmen of the Anyasa fled towards Tete, but the most
important died. People died without any reason (lulele), there was quite
a dying (chaola) among the race. Then the Magololo “got in their fingers”
(kwinjila yala). They took possession of the children of the deceased,
they killed others and took their families also. They had no right to
act in this way, but they relied on their power, which increased every
day till they could claim all the Anyasa on the lower Chiri for their
subjects. These helpless people have suffered exceedingly from war, and
have been enslaved in all directions. Near Blantyre many of them reside
as slaves among the Yao. At Zomba there is an important Anyasa headman
who although possessing several villages, is under a Machinga chief.
Even on Lake Nyassa (Nyasa) itself, most of the unfortunate tribe are
under Yao or Machinga rulers. On an island in Chirwa many of them are
packed together to escape slavers (62).


103. GOVERNMENT OF SLAVES.

In their normal state, the Anyasa have the same customs as the Yao
(1-102), but under the Magololo they are governed like prisoners of war.
In a Yao village the people are ruled by a headman of their own kindred
(62), who has power to try all village cases. Among the Magololo there
are no such headmen, the leading man in the village is merely a sort of
overseer or taskmaster, put there by the chief and possessing no civil
or criminal jurisdiction. While the Yao are not compelled to hoe their
chief’s fields, the Magololo villagers cannot begin to cultivate for
themselves till they have first “finished the chief’s farm”. After doing
this, the overseers and the villagers under them may begin to cultivate
ground for their own sustenance. At all times they may cut trees for
their own fires. When they make canoes these are not for themselves,
but for the chief. While the Yao have village parliaments, the Magololo
are autocrats, who keep their people at arm’s length. A subject of the
Magololo, on killing a buck carries the whole animal to the capital.
He gets back two legs, and the chief keeps the rest. The chief in like
manner takes all the ivory, and gives the poor hunter only a small
present of cloth. While among the Yao each woman has a surety (48),
the Magololo dispose of female children as masters dispose of slaves
(59, 92). They even try to make all the children of their subjects live
with themselves—a measure which alienates the more respectable of their
people. By the Magololo all refugees are expressly received as slaves
even though they were free before.


104. PROOF AND PUNISHMENT.


_Ordeals._

The Magololo prepare mwai, call their people in great numbers and command
them to drink it. Several die in one day, who were therefore bewitchers
and deserved their fate. I have seen so many who have drunk mwai with
the Magololo and recovered, that I am inclined to think either that
the poison is of a milder type, or that it is not fairly administered.
Although the Yao are not compelled to drink it, except for strong
reasons, among them the chance of recovery is smaller.

Investigation by torture is one of the saddest things that the Magololo
practise. It is often employed in cases of alleged adultery. When a
Magololo suspects his wives of this crime, he places a stone in a jar
of boiling water or oil, and orders them to fetch it up with their
bare arms. He then judges of their guilt by the amount of injury they
sustain. When a woman is thus convicted, he makes her confess who seduced
her. In vain does the helpless creature protest that she is innocent.
Notwithstanding that her arm is severely scalded, she is subjected to
the most cruel torture by a kind of “thumbscrew” (mbanilo) which is
applied to her head. A small tree (katela) is partly divided along
the middle, the skull of the poor woman is inserted as if it were a
wedge for splitting the tree still farther. Great pressure is exerted
by forcing the halves of the tree together with the aid of pulleys. The
instrument works like a gigantic nut-cracker, and during its operation
the chief and his assistants look on with calm satisfaction, and suggest
the name of her seducer. When the woman, under this torture, indicates
that the man is guilty, he is put to death without a trial. Should he
plead that he knows nothing of the crime, the chief takes no notice of
his protestation. Perhaps the woman herself is quite guiltless, and has
been convicted solely by the ordeal. The Yao used to apply this method
of torture (kuwana) to a bewitcher in order to extort a confession.
The bewitcher was first proved guilty by the oracle, and then had his
head squeezed till he told where he had buried his horns. But now the
detective both proves the guilt and finds the horns (107). Among the Yao
at present this process of torture is seldom applied to free people.

Even in serious cases the Magololo may refuse to give any trial “because
the accused was their slave”.


_Crimes and Punishment._

_Petty theft_, as of a fowl, is punished among the Magololo by flogging
with whips of elephant hide. There is no formal trial. If the criminal
says he has not stolen, the chief says he is a liar, which, to do the
chief justice, is often the case. Cropping a thief’s ears, and cutting
off his fingers, are also practised. Few Yao take such decided measures
even with their slaves. For _theft_ of anything more valuable the
punishment is death. A man that steals a sheep or a goat is stabbed and
thrown into the river. On other occasions he is flogged to death with
whips of elephant hide. “But do they always want to kill a thief when
they flog him?” “No, sometimes they stop before he is dead, and then the
man’s companions remark, ‘You have been very fortunate to-day!’” At other
times a thief is made a public _example_, in which case he has his hands
and his feet, or one or more of these members, cut off, and is placed in
the forum for “two days”. After this he is killed and thrown into the
river. We asked, “But does not the man bleed to death in a short time?”
“Not always,” was the reply, “but the place where he sat is covered
with his blood, and the chief kills a goat, which is disembowelled on
that spot”. The Yao do not often kill or mutilate in this way except in
cases where they can get no compensation: but when they catch an enemy,
they cut off his hand and tell him to go home and show how he has been
received.

_Adultery_ with their own wives the Magololo all punish with death.
But when the crime is only among their people, their punishment is
not uniform. Chiputula inflicts capital punishment on all adulterers,
remarking that “next day they would interfere with his own wives”.
Makukani, when one of his men complains against another, may order the
accused to hand over his wife for a week or more to the accuser.

When one of these chiefs wishes to make an example of an adulterer, the
method is as barbarous as can well be conceived. The victim has his
hand or some other part of his body cut off, and he is then compelled to
eat it. I was unwilling to believe this, till I met men that had been
eye-witnesses on several occasions, and then it appeared that the custom
was notorious. We asked, “Why do the criminals consent to eat part of
their bodies?” The reply was, “The chief persuades (nyenga) or cheats
them to do so. They think that if they eat, he will allow them to live.”
But in all such cases execution soon follows.

The practices of the Magololo not only furnish an illustration of how
individual slaves and captives are treated, but show how a strong
government in a barbarous land may “grind” its subjects. After a chief
has been successful in many wars, he begins to think that both his slaves
and his own kinsmen derive all life and property from him, and hold these
privileges during his pleasure.




CHAPTER XV.

WITCHCRAFT.


105. THE POISONED CUP (MWAI.)

The poison so often referred to in connection with native trials is made
from the bark of the mwai tree, which grows plentifully throughout the
country. The dose is about two gills, and is prepared by a pounder of
poison (1). The accused, it is said, has a voice in the selection of the
pounder, but so implicitly is the ordeal believed in that the natives
think it is of little consequence who “pounds” it; still most tribes
seem to have a milder concoction for trivial offences. The drug may be
taken by proxy—it may be administered to a dog or a fowl or some animal
representing the accused. In this case the animal is tied by a string to
the criminal. If it survive, the accused is innocent, if it die, he is
guilty. This method of administering the ordeal is more humane, and is
allowed in smaller offences. It is much used by the natives that live
near the coast. Indeed, the inhabitants of Quilimane believe in the
ordeal as implicitly as the tribes of the interior, and although they
have been in contact with Europeans for centuries, they were accustomed
when called before a Portuguese judge to swear on the mwai instead of the
Bible.


106. WITCHCRAFT (USAWI.)

We have now described so many native customs that it is time to set our
examination paper that the reader may satisfy himself as to his progress
in African lore. We therefore propose the following question, “When
a man is killed by a wild beast, do the natives think he died by the
hand of God?” If the reader can answer this, he has studied the subject
with profit, and he would be able to answer many similar questions.
For those who are doubtful we shall submit our own view. In the first
place, the question as Christians understand it, is quite unintelligible
to the native. We have reason to believe that in the times of his
philosophising, the idea of a Supreme Being rises before his mind, but
that Being is to him “a God afar off” who takes nothing to do with the
ordinary course of events, and from whose hand, therefore, death or
misfortune never comes. We must try then to interpret the question as
the native does (3), and we are thus led to enquire whether death comes
from the hand of the Departed Spirits. Now undoubtedly these spirits
have great power. Under their auspices journeys are successful, by their
assemblies famine is averted, through their influence death is driven
away. Yet it is not so much their business either to cause evil or to
prevent it, as to indicate whether evil be coming. The departed spirit
may have to answer a question like this, “_If_ Saul come down, and _if_
I remain here, will the men of Keilah deliver me up?” Now by giving a
false answer, the spirit may bring about the death of his worshippers.
Yet it is not the spirit that kills them—the real cause of all such
mischief in this lower world is the Bewitcher. When we remark that the
god is quite as much to blame, the natives say, “There is no use of
blaming the god. _He did not set the horns._” It is on the Bewitcher
therefore that all responsibility lies.

The word “Bewitcher” (msawi) carries with it two ideas—the person so
called (1) has power or knowledge sufficient for the practice of occult
arts, and (2) is addicted to cannibalism. The second meaning is the
more prominent. Let a person eat a morsel of his deceased friend, and
though he be the feeblest and dullest-looking creature in the world he
is msawi This throws light upon the native view of witchcraft. Witches
kill a victim for the purpose of eating him: not only so, but every man
that dies even what we call a natural death is really killed by witches.
These terrible beings visit their victim when asleep (94) and instil
a powerful poison into his ears. They carry out their infernal tricks
chiefly by means of horns (misengo.) Of themselves these horns may be
harmless, being merely the horns of small buck, and if a bewitcher were
to die after burying these weapons, they would have no evil influence.
But as a matter of fact, such horns are always dangerous, for the witches
hold a council beforehand with regard to killing their victim and sharing
his flesh, and although the witch that buries the horns may die, the
survivors are able to carry on the plot to its termination.

Hence when any native dies, his friends are certain that he has been
slain by witchcraft, and at once call in the witch-detective, who will
discover the guilty witches and remove their dangerous horns.


107. THE WITCH-DETECTIVE (MAVUMBULA).

Although a male detective has appeared in the past history of these
tribes, all the witch detectives that I have seen were female. They are
in one aspect the most important personages in the country. At present
two reside at Lake Chirwa; they belong to the same fraternity, one is
called Chipembere (Rhinoceros), and the other Tambala (Cock). Many speak
as if the office now belonged entirely to females. A native in ordinary
conversation often remarks, “If I have any misfortune I will go to the
woman,” and when pronouncing a person guilty, the terrible functionary
ends her speech with the words, “Thus saith the woman”. The detective
when called to investigate a case of death, appoints a day for the
ceremony. She goes with a strong guard of armed men, and although her
meetings are frequent, people crowd to them from great distances. Her
approach causes as much excitement as a public execution would do in a
quiet English town, with this difference, that the assembled multitude
cannot tell who will be the victim. At sunrise the drums begin to beat
and are heard over the whole country side; about three hours after, all
the villages in the district are deserted. Their inhabitants, men,
women, and children, are to be seen hurrying to the “witch dance”. On
arriving they sit in a circle, and leave a large space in the centre
for the “Woman”. She is waited for with breathless anxiety. After a
time wild screams are heard, and there rushes before the spectators the
maddest-looking person conceivable. A stranger concludes at once that one
witch has been captured already and is now driven before the detective.
The wretch looks as if she were haunted by all the Furies and Demons of
Pagan Mythology. Heir face, breast, and arms are marked with patches of
blood-red. Her head is covered, not with short negro wool, but with snaky
tresses which hang down her back. Her loins are girt with leopard skins.
Her legs are overhung with “rattles,” which sound at every step. In her
hand she grasps a scourge of tails, which she waves wildly about her. Her
eyes roll and stare in her fierce frenzy. She is evidently surrounded by
fiends, which though invisible to others, are dreadful realities to her.
With them she maintains a desperate struggle, ever trying to beat them
off with her scourge. After wrestling thus she utters shrieks of the most
unearthly character, and with a terrible bound dashes into the circle,
and we have before us the witch-detective herself. Once in the middle
of the crowd, she shouts and rants, sings and dances, eats grass and
chews branches for several hours. Of her chants some are common in the
district, others in the Walolo language, contains a sound of the letter
_r_ that the Yao cannot pronounce. She chaffs them for their awkwardness,
and notwithstanding the grave nature of her ceremony, she succeeds in
drawing smiles from the multitude. In some of her chants she boasts of
her power. “Let the bewitcher become a leopard or a carrion crow yet,”
she cries, “there can be no escape.” A large part of the crowd are in a
state of terrible suspense. Each person knows that from three to five
people will be “detected,” and what if he be among the number? The first
time I was at a witch-dance I was not free from concern! The bewitchers,
however, will either be relatives of the deceased or persons that have
had a quarrel with him.

As the decisive moment arrives, the detective asks the hand of every one
in the crowd as she chants the appropriate words:—

    “Pasa manja Chipembere (Give Chipembere your hand).
    Pasa manja Chipembere.”
              _Response._—“E, e, e, e, e, e, e.”

The instant she touches the hand of a bewitcher she leaps back with a
terrible start and utters a wild scream. Another method of detecting
is by smelling, and this she brings into use at various stages of the
investigation. Soon after feeling the hands of the spectators, she
retires from the scene literally drenched with sweat. She has found out
the whole secret. But the triumph of her art is not yet fully disclosed,
and soon she proceeds to reveal where the witches have hid their horns.
Taking a hoe and a pot of water, she marches off for the purpose,
followed by hundreds of the crowd whose curiosity is most intense, and
who begin to share her savage manner. She goes to the forum, to the
stream that supplies the villagers with water, and to their various
houses. At a spot where she wishes to dig she pours out water to soften
the ground. During her digging, she groans, shrieks, and gesticulates,
in the most frantic way. She succeeds in finding the horns most readily.
One set she digs up at the stream, “they were placed there to bewitch
the water drunk by the deceased”. Another bunch she finds under a tree
in the village. She looks up, and pointing to some fading branches at
the top, she exclaims, “No wonder that this tree has begun to wither”.
Every spectator is dumb with astonishment and terror. No one will dare to
touch these horns. It would be fatal to do so. They were buried by the
bewitchers, and are the very means by which the deceased was killed. All
are greatly relieved when these potent spells are removed by the “Woman,”
who will doubtless find them useful on another occasion.

The witch-detective always spends one night at the village where she is
employed. She is then permitted to wander about at midnight, under the
pretence of going to watch the graves. Should she find any one out of his
house at that hour, she catches him and brings forward this suspicious
circumstance against him. To be found at night by the witch-detective is
one of the most unfortunate things that could happen to any man. Even if
he has not been already recommended as a victim, he is certain to be now
among the guilty. While the detective goes about at midnight among the
houses, she is supposed to be unknown to the witches. Sometimes she begs
for food, and the witches, thinking she is one of their own fraternity,
give her some human flesh. This hospitality she ungratefully rewards,
for the flesh said to be thus procured she produces as evidence against
the person that gave it.

Besides horns, the detective may dig up arms, legs, and other portions of
human bodies in suspicious places in or near the houses of the witches.
The whole process of unearthing is of a nature to satisfy a craving
for magic, and if more harmless, would be intensely humorous. There is
no saying what the witch-detective may “find,” and she seems as much
surprised at her discovery as any of the spectators!


_Midnight Feasts._

Any witch may join in eating a person that has been killed by the agency
of others; indeed, most of the witches in the country are believed to
come to a great feast when one of their number has robbed the grave of
its prey. Here is a description of such midnight feasts translated from
the very words of a native:—“They cook the body at night, when everyone
is asleep, in a pot with water and salt. They eat it with their porridge
as a relish in the same way as they would eat a fowl. They go and bury
the bones. They take the head and singe off the hair, and go to the
stream and wash it with water and take out the brains and cook them. They
disembowel the body and eat all the entrails after washing them at the
stream.” If a body is kept in a house until putrefaction has done its
work, “the witches are cheated of their meat”. This is one reason why
the body of a person of rank is kept in the house for a long time after
death. The witch-detective, or rather the mwai, kills only the person who
bewitched the deceased and those that consented to his death beforehand.
Those that partook of the feast are not so guilty, but they generally
come with a present to the detective and justify themselves by saying,
“We only followed the meat”. One of the exploits of witches, according
to Kapeni, is to make milk come down a straw in the inside of a house.
We mention this because it resembles witch-stories in other lands. When
witches are caught by the detective, no one will speak to them. Generally
they are some helpless creatures whom a relative wishes out of the way.
They must soon drink the mwai, which is certain to prove fatal to some of
them. The credit of the witch-detective would suffer if they all survived.


_Death by mwai._

The person that dies by mwai, whether the crime be theft, adultery,
murder, or witchcraft, is denied the ordinary funeral rights. The body
is either cast into a cave, or hung on a tree for the vultures. No
coffin (34) is allowed, and the ordinary grave-cloth is denied. Much
of the effects of the deceased goes to paying the prosecutor, who has
a large account with the witch-detective. It may, however, be the
prosecutor himself that succeeds to the bewitcher’s inheritance. This
whole superstition casts a dark shadow over the closing days of the
poor native. If we pass over slaves (who may be killed to escort their
master) and young children, we do not hesitate to say that in many
districts one half of the natives are killed by mwai. On every occasion
of what we call natural death, there is at once an investigation by the
witch-detective, and the result is that at least one individual dies.

Towards the last year of my own residence in Africa there occurred
ten deaths of persons that I was well acquainted with. Of these, four
died by violence, three by natural causes, and three by mwai. Of the
three that died by natural causes two were living with the English, and
their friends were not allowed to be avenged on any bewitcher, so that
we believe that the proportion of deaths by mwai is really larger. We
have sometimes wondered that the chiefs did not check the operations
of the sorcerer, but the following from Lady Barker will throw much
light on their position. A Kafir chief said, “You ask me to put down
the witch-doctors, but you forget the circumstances of my country. You
Englishmen have gaols, policemen and soldiers; I have none of these
things, and if I were to prohibit ‘smelling out’ there would be no check
whatever upon the criminal classes.”

On first finding myself face to face with the above agency of heathenism,
I began to reason against it. In my first efforts I took very strong
ground, not only denying that witchcraft was possible, but asserting that
I did not believe in cannibalism. I even ventured to argue that when
these tribes spoke of “eating each other” they “did not and could not
mean” that a man literally ate his fellows. But it is a dangerous thing
to give a native lessons in his own language, and I was soon convinced
that they “did not and could not mean” anything else. But they were
generally very fair in controversy. They were unanimous in rejecting my
views about cannibalism—“was not human flesh as sweet to the bewitcher as
monkeys, beetles and caterpillars were to other people?” But they were
willing to admit that the detective while prowling about at midnight
might busy herself in burying horns, and they laughed heartily when I
volunteered to unearth as many horns as they wanted if they allowed me
the same privilege. I am not without hope that the deception may soon
come to an end, for the little boys and girls that lived with us used
latterly to get up a mock witch-dance for their own amusement, and they
acted on hints most willingly given by the “white man,” and implying that
the witch-detective buried the horns herself.


_Divination._

The following method of divining as described by Mr. Buchanan may
conclude this chapter:—

“A common custom amongst the Machinga is divination (kupenda). Few will
venture to go a distance of ten miles without first assuring themselves
that no danger is to befall them on the way. Men going from Zomba to
Blantyre seldom forget to try the ‘Chipendo’ before starting. One mode
of divining is by means of the root of a small bush. This root is about
the thickness of a pencil, and three bits of it about two inches long are
usually employed. Most men carry these lots or roots with them when on
a journey, and carefully preserve them when at home. A man wishing to
know whether he may proceed in safety takes these bits of root and lays
them carefully on the ground, placing the third above the other two. He
then declares his intention of going to a certain place, and asks whether
there is any hindrance. After retiring a few paces he returns to take his
answer from the position in which the roots are now lying. If they have
remained as he placed them his journey is to be prosperous, but if they
have been separated it is to be unsuccessful, and he will not set out.
Or the diviner may use only two roots—a method often resorted to by a
traveller who comes to cross roads. He places his knife in a horizontal
position, and lays the two roots against the blade. The traveller then
stands pointing to one of the roads and says ‘Shall I take this one?’
and if the roots remain still fixed he takes it, but if they fall to the
ground he chooses the other path. In the event of a man being without a
knife he may use the palm of his hand or the side of a tree.

“Another and more complicated method consists in boiling the roots and
mixing the entrails of an adder with the water.”

This use of the entrails is suggestive in an ethnological point of view.




CHAPTER XVI.

AFRICAN ETHNOLOGY.


In trying to settle whether tribes are of the same race the Ethnologist
turns his attention to such points as (1) their language, (2) their
customs and beliefs, and (3) their physical characteristics. Though in
this chapter we refer only to the second of these particulars, we may
remark that on the evidence of language alone we can decide that the
Wayao, Walolo, Anyasa, Achikunda, Machinga, Mangoni, Makua, and others
in their neighbourhood, are sprung from common ancestors, and that all
these tribes are of the same race as the majority of the tribes found
south of the Equator, which have been grouped together as the Bantu.[12]
The other important inhabitants of South Africa besides the Bantu are the
Hottentots and Bushmen, who again have been often classed together. The
Hottentots and Bushmen seem to have been first in the Continent. Then the
Bantu came into the middle of them, and split them into two sections.
One section (Hottentots and Bushmen) is found in the South, the other
section (represented by tribes like the Akka) is found in the North. As
to the time when the Bantu established themselves in South Africa there
is little to guide us. It is said that the Kafirs were forcing their way
down by the West Coast at the time when the Portuguese were settling on
the East Coast. It seems clear that Santos on one side of Africa and
Merolla on the other both mingled with this great people.

African Ethnology is a vast subject, and in treating it some have been
led to maintain that there was once a continent to the east of Africa,
which has become submerged. The traditions common among these African
tribes to the effect that the Bantu came from the North tempt us to look
northward along the map of Africa with the view of discovering whence
they came. On examining the tribes of Northern Africa, we find that one
obstacle has been put before the Ethnologist by Mahommedanism, which,
pressing into the country by the seventh century, changed the ancient
tribal customs. On the other hand, the customs of certain ancient races
like the Egyptians have been preserved by history.

Putting aside language for the present, we shall note the customs of
various African races. This besides pointing to certain ethnological
conclusions, will throw light on the customs that have been laid before
the reader, and may increase the interest in those tribes. Taking our
stand in the Nyassa region, we shall, after glancing at customs of
Eastern Africa supplied by earlier missionaries, look towards the South,
the West, and the North in succession; and then conclude the chapter
with notes on ancient races that might have had contact with the African
Bantu.


EAST CENTRAL AFRICA.

_Santos_[13] (1586) remarks: “The people bewail their dead by dint of
drumming, and desist from leaping and dancing only when fatigue obliges
them to cease (33). They regard their king as the favourite of the souls
of the dead, and think that he learns from them all that passes in his
dominions (1). The Portuguese delivered from their dreadful slavery a
number of women and children whom this wretch kept with a number of men
in pens for the purpose of killing and eating them in succession (79,
106). They acknowledge a God who, both in this world and in the world
to come, measures retribution for the good or evil done in this.” [This
looks, I fear, somewhat like reading our ideas into their language.
Still, natives might easily fancy that the old chief to whom they go at
death will treat his subjects much as he did in this life.]

The Rev. H. Rowley, of the Magomero Mission, gives an account of a public
supplication for rain amongst the Anyasa (20). In conducting war, “The
Yao,” he says, “left their camp before daybreak, marched direct to the
principal village, destroyed that, and fired the others which lay in
their line of march home. The difficulty was to get messengers to the
Yao.... When we asked our own men to be the messengers, they put their
hands instinctively to their throats” (101).

In a case of accidental death “it was difficult to convince one party
that it was an accident, and both that witchcraft had nothing to do with
it” (86).


SOUTH AFRICA.

The Zulu and Kafir have customs so similar to the Yao that I refer only
to a few, some of which are quoted on account of the difference.

They do not eat fowls, ducks, or eggs, lest they should be barren
(D). They conceal birth-names (52). A man must not see the face of
his mother-in-law. The eldest son succeeds his father. They bury in a
circular hole, placing the body in a sitting posture. On returning from
a funeral they get a charm administered to them. A spirit may come back
as a snake (5). Their Witch-doctors and Fetishmen are more set apart from
the people than those in Eastern Central Africa. Feathers, claws, teeth,
pieces of wood, &c., are charms. Prophets smell a person to see whether
he speaks the truth. The witch is believed not to eat the body taken from
the grave, but to use it as a charm.

A recent account of one of the southern Bantu tribes, the _Amandebele_,
which was formed of 30 or 40 smaller tribes, is given by Thomas, from
which we take the following customs:—

The first to “bleed” a field with his pick possesses it (48). Soldiers
going to war charm themselves before and after the expedition (14, &c.).
An invalid is removed from the village to a field (19). At funerals
there is an offering of cattle, and the deceased is introduced to his
father, grandfather, and others. In cases where the spirit of a deceased
friend enters an invalid, this spirit gets a sacrifice: sometimes the
particular animal wanted by the spirit is named. The dead may be changed
into elephants, buck, lions, snakes, &c. Hence offerings are given to
such animals.

Mr. Thomas carefully distinguishes two classes of professional men that
are often put together: one is the class of diviners, each of whom is
trained by an older diviner. The other class is the common _izinyanga_,
and includes self-taught physicians and those doctors that are priests
as well as physicians (I). Witchcraft is carried on and punished in ways
similar to what we have described (107), and yet with important points of
difference. Their traditions on cosmology state that when men came out
of the earth they found the animal and vegetable kingdoms prepared for
them, and that they received the opposite messages of life and death.
This last statement refers to the chameleon legend common among the Bantu
(_Appendix_, Tale 15).


WEST CENTRAL AFRICA.

_Merolla_ (1682) says:—“The people ate serpents. They had an oath by
which a person’s limbs were bound tighter or looser to force out the
truth. [In § 104, we saw this principle applied to the head]. They did
not approve of marrying in _facie ecclesiæ_, for they must be satisfied
before marriage whether their wife will have children, and whether she
will prove diligent in her work and obedient. When the fault proceeds
from the wife’s side, the present that was made by the husband is
restored; when the fault is on his side, he recovers nothing (59). When
the father receives the present he complains not even if it should be
small—for that would look like selling his daughter; but he asks in
public beforehand how much the man will give. [This is more like the
Kafir custom than the Yao (48)]. Sometimes a man leaves a concubine to
his kinsman (54, 43). The wife waits at table on her husband; after he
is satisfied he gives the rest of the food to her, and she shares it
with her children (67). Whilst children are young they are bound with
superstitious cords made by the wizards (45). They are put down naked on
the ground; when they can move, a bell is tied to them, to show where
they have gone. The fields are planted round with stakes, which being
bound with bundles of herbs by the wizards, will kill any thief (K). When
they have private quarrels, they do not decide them singly, but each man
gets as many friends as he can. The parties meet, begin to argue quietly,
proceed to invectives, and lastly they fall to it ‘helter-skelter’. [We
could give no better account of many native trials in Eastern Africa.]
On a death, the kindred collect: hens are killed; they besprinkle the
house of the deceased with the blood, and throw the carcases on the top
of the house, to prevent the soul of the dead from coming to give Zumbi
to any future inhabitants (40). The dead person is believed to summon
others out of this world (41). They weep over the dead, if not naturally
they hold Indian pepper to their noses, which causes the tears to flow
plentifully. When they have howled and wept for some time, all of a
sudden they pass to mirth, feasting at the expense of the person that is
nearest akin to the deceased (43). Many abominations take place after
these feasts. The Giaghi offer human sacrifices to the dead (28). Burial
places are in the fields, and have something placed over them—_e.g._,
horns or earthen pots (39). The poorer people wrap their dead in straw
mats. All are given to ‘idolatry’ and the eating of man’s flesh (106).
If any person whatsoever pass by where the guests are eating, he or she
thrusts into the ring and has an equal share with the rest (D). Their
wives work in the fields till noon, and must get their husbands’ food
ready, and wait till he finish” (57).

_Battel_ (1590—Angola and adjoining countries) writes:—“The Gagas ate
their captives, except those under fourteen years of age. The women draw
out two teeth above and two below (A). A dead man has his hair dressed,
and is put on a seat in a vault dug in the ground. Two of his wives are
put by him with their arms broken, then the vault is covered up. The
greatest part of his goods is buried with him (39). Every month there is
a meeting of his kindred, who mourn and kill goats and pour the blood and
palm-tree wine on the grave. [The Yao have dances every month, when the
moon is full; on other occasions there would be difficulty in lighting
their great ball-room.] They suffer no white man to be buried in the
land. The body is thrown into the sea about two miles from the coast.
[Unless where the English possess land, or are well known, this custom
can be traced in East Africa. On Lake Nyassa, at least one English body
had difficulty in obtaining a grave. In the same way some of the deceased
Magomero missionaries were exhumed. In keeping with this is the custom of
carrying about bodies for long distances, as in the case of Livingstone
and some Portuguese.] If a person denies a charge, he drinks a root
(Imbando), which kills him if he is guilty. _No one on any account dies
but they kill another for him._ They believe that some one bewitched the
deceased (106). Many times 500 men and women come to drink Imbando” (104).

_Bosman_ (1700—Bosman’s Guinea) mentions 5 classes of people: (1) kings,
(2) chief men who take care of a city or village, (3) those that have
got riches, (4) the common people, (5) slaves. [This exactly applies to
the Eastern tribes.] In their salutations the first question is, “How
did you sleep?” to which the reply is, “Very well” (G). At Fida, if any
visit his superior, he falls on his knees, kisses the earth, claps his
hands. [Here we find kneeling and clapping the hands.] The women suckle
the infants for two or three years. Child-bearing is not troublesome;
here is no long lying-in nor expensive gossiping or groaning feasts
(44). The chief handiwork is smithery. They have no notion of steel.
A hard stone is their anvil, and they have a pair of tongs, a small
pair of bellows, and three or more pipes (H). When they begin a war,
drive a bargain, travel, or attempt anything of importance, their first
business is to consult their false god by means of their priest, who may
tell them to offer sheep, &c. [14. Another resemblance to the Zulu and
Kafirs. Among the simpler Yao, a man may be his own priest.] Questions
may be put to the idol, which are answered in this way:—About 20 bits of
leather are shuffled by the priest; if those indicating success come much
together, success is announced (I). Public general religious exercises
are customary on account of great drought (20). They kill a cock or a
sheep to their god in words alone: for when it is dead they immediately
fall upon it, tearing it to pieces with their fingers (27). Most of them
believe that after death they live in another world in the same character
as here; but they have no idea of future rewards or punishments (10).
They drive devils out of villages (107). Children don’t inherit their
father’s goods (97). If a woman is with child for the first time, rich
offerings are made to the false god to obtain her safe delivery (53).
They call in medicine men when sick, who prescribe offerings to deities.
They have medicaments of the roots, branches, and gum of trees, and about
30 different herbs (I).

From various other writers on Western Central Africa we gather the
following facts:—

When a child is 7 days old, the parents make a small feast, imagining
that the infant is past its greatest dangers; and in order to prevent
evil spirits from doing it any mischief, they strew all the ways with
dressed victuals to appease them (44).

If a man like a virgin, he tells the most considerable among her
relations, who goes to her house and asks her of her relations, who, if
she is not before promised, seldom deny the request: then the bridegroom
clothes his future bride with a rich suit of clothes and ornaments (48).

A man contracts with his wife when she is under age (48), and afterwards
carries her forcibly to his home amidst her struggles and shrieks. A
dower is reserved for her, so that, in case of widowhood, she may be able
to buy a husband (59). When a present is paid to her parents, the bride
is led to her husband’s hut, and he sends her for water, wood, and other
necessaries. One of the wives is the superior (55). Adultery is punished
by selling both offenders. The husband may turn off an unfaithful wife at
pleasure; he makes her take all her children with her, unless he want to
keep any himself (59). Wives do all the hard work, do not eat with their
husbands, and are in great subjection. They name the child by shaving
its head and rubbing it with oil (46). The women carry the children on
their back as they go about their ordinary work. Many writers “impute
the flat noses and pot bellies to this mode of carriage”. As soon as a
person dies the neighbours are collected by loud cries and lamentations.
They cry over the dead for several days. They give the deceased about
a twelvemonth’s provisions, and make a point of securing the body from
carrion-eaters (38). The brothers, sisters, and relations take possession
of the goods of the dead man, and leave little to his children (97). If
the deceased be a man, his wives shave their heads. [40, 43. All the Yao
shave the head for any deceased relative.] If they drink liquor belonging
to a European that they do not know, they ask him to drink first that
they may see that there is no poison (98). They use no bread, but eat
the flour of their various grains. They use the Indian corn when green,
roasting it on the coals—or make flour by pounding in mortars. The
houses are like beehives, and have pointed roofs: persons of quality
have palisades round them. The domestic utensils are only earthen pots,
calabashes, and baskets (C). They use bows, poisoned arrows and assagais.

[Illustration: WOMAN OF WESTERN AFRICA POUNDING MEAL.]

The Mahommedan negroes of the West Coast practise circumcision in some
place remote from a village (52).

The above customs of the Western African are taken from the older writers
on the subject. After coming into contact with Europeans the natives are
apt to change their more primitive manners. They are fond of discarding
round huts in favour of square. The above illustration shows a basket
very different from the East African ones, all of which are carried on
the head.


NORTHERN CENTRAL AFRICA.

The BONGO believe that evil and not good comes from spirits. Old people
procure roots in the forest glades at night to destroy others. The
Nubians, besides having superstitions of their own, confirm them in all
this. Old women are compared to hyenas, and believed to enter their
bodies by night. The dead are put in a crouching form—as prescribed in
the law of Islam (_Schweinfurth_). Among the NYAM-NYAM no bodies are
rejected as unfit for food except those that died of a cutaneous disease.
The eldest son of a chief succeeds his father. Chieftains rarely lead
their armies (98). A man that wishes a wife goes to a chief or sub-chief,
who endeavours to procure one (48). The women eat alone in their own
huts. The game “mungala” is played sometimes on a board, sometimes with
holes in the ground (51, 5).

The BALONDA (Livingstone) ratify friendship by partaking of each other’s
blood. They believe in a kind of supreme deity. When they take a poison
ordeal they hold up their hands, as if to appeal to a great judge above.
[It will be observed that the last clause is an inference.] They have
idols, and a cross-road is considered sacred (40).

The WANYAMWESI have also a ceremony of making “blood-brothers”.

The WAGANDA have a stringent code of etiquette. A man that makes any
mistake in saluting the king is executed at once. The account given
by Speke of the chief of Uganda shows what a terrible curse a strong
government may become (104). A powerful chief kills scores of people in
cold blood, till the thing becomes an established custom, and ceases to
be wondered at. Stanley’s details are equally instructive. When a warlike
expedition is thought of, the sorcerer flays a child, and lays its body
on the path as the soldiers pass forth to battle.

The GANI go quite naked, but instead of sitting on the ground as most
natives do, they carry a small stool. In this district mothers wash their
children and then lick them dry with their tongues as cats do. Towels are
no part of native appliances.

Among the OBBO, when a man dies, his relatives take off his hair and wear
it in his memory.

The DJOUR country resembles the Yao in being infested by the
_tsetse-fly_, which kills cattle; consequently the people, though with a
taste for agriculture, have nothing except goats.

In many tribes the women wear no clothing till marriage. The birth of
twins is often considered unlucky; among the Ishogo the mother of twins
is forbidden to speak to any but relatives for six years.

The APINGI offered Du Chaillu a “tender and fat” slave for his “evening
meal”.

Among the FANS (Ba-Fan) the executed wizards (_cf._ 107) are eaten, and
cannibalism (according to Reade) is made no secret.

Among ABYSSINIANS (like the Gallas, Samali, &c.) we find customs like the
following:—

Children are circumcised the eighth day. The baptismal name is concealed,
to prevent an evil spirit from taking possession of the party. They have
civil marriages which are readily dissolved. On a death the relatives
of the deceased shave their heads. There is much “wailing,” for which
professionals attend, and a funeral banquet.

Lobo, the Abyssinian missionary, was cupped by a native by three cups of
horn about half-a-foot long (I).

The GALLAS have a god called Wak. Their priests divine by the fat of
goats and intestines. It is honourable to kill an alien, to kill a
countryman is criminal. On death the relatives feast on the cattle. Wood
that has been burning a little is put on the grave. If the wood grow the
man is happy in the world beyond (_Krapf_).

The ARABS are found everywhere in Northern Africa, and their customs are
better known: still I shall note a few for the sake of comparison.

Boys are named at the ceremony of circumcision. This is about their
seventh year among the Turks. Some make it the 13th after the analogy
of Ishmael (compare 52). Whatever is touched by a corpse is defiled
(34). They pay visits to the graves of the dead; pilgrimages are a great
feature in their religion. There are a few superstitions connected with
the use of salt, _e.g._, when an infant is named, some may be put into
its mouth. An assemblage of families all from a common stock forms a
tribe—the government is paternal (62).


RACES OF ANTIQUITY.

It would be interesting to determine to which of the ancient nations
known to history these Bantu tribes are most related. For light on this
question we must look at the great nations of antiquity that had most to
do with Africa.

The first race that we find in African history is the ANCIENT EGYPTIANS,
whose country, Mizraim, is named after one of the sons of Ham. Whether
they pressed farther south at an early date it is difficult to determine.
It would have been strange if they had not: they had enterprise enough to
build the pyramids. As dynasty succeeded dynasty, many that were driven
before invaders in those barbarous times may have discovered that the
world was wide. It is agreed, however, that in the 18th dynasty, about
1400 B.C., Sesostris found tribes in Nubia, Abyssinia, Senaar, &c., and
subdued them. It is instructive to note that about 718 B.C. Egypt had a
dynasty of Ethiopian kings; and that about 600 B.C. Necho, an Egyptian
king, sent a Phenician fleet down the Red Sea, which appeared in the
Mediterranean three years after—having sailed round Africa.

The next of the ancient races that may be mentioned in connection with
Africa is the PHENICIANS or CANAANITES. Before Homer’s time they had the
commerce of the Mediterranean. By the time of Solomon they were making
voyages down the Red Sea to a place called Ophir, regarding which there
have been many theories. In connection with one of these, we quote the
following from Baines. Speaking of the long-sought ruins in the land
of Ophir, he says:—“They are extensive, and one collection covers a
considerable portion of a gentle rise, while another, apparently a fort,
stands upon a bold granite hill. The walls are still thirty feet in
height, and are built of granite hewn into small blocks about the size
of our bricks, and put together without mortar. The most remarkable of
these walls is situated on the very edge of a precipitous cliff, and is
in perfect preservation to the height of thirty feet. The walls are about
ten feet thick at the base, and seven or eight at the top. In many places
there remain beams of stone, eight or ten feet in length, projecting from
the walls, in which they must be inserted to a depth of several feet,
for they can scarcely be stirred.” This explorer finds Ophir in Southern
Africa.

The JEWS had contact with most of the nations of antiquity, and it is
said that the kings of Abyssinia were descended from Solomon, through the
Queen of Sheba, who on her return was accompanied by many Jews. It is
also maintained that numbers of Jews found refuge in Abyssinia at various
periods. The Abyssinians, as their name implies, are a mixed race.

Herodotus mentions a party of young men that travelled through the desert
and went on till they came to a black people who lived by a large river
which flowed westwards.

On comparing the customs of the modern tribes of Africa with those of
the Ancient Egyptians, the Phenicians, or the Jews, we find many points
of difference. Still there are points of similarity also. In describing
African manners we have already noted many agreements with old Jewish
customs. The customs of the Canaanites need not detain us long. Even in
the time of the Patriarchs this race could make seals and graven images,
had silver money, and could dye purple. It may be mentioned, however,
that they believed themselves to have sprung from slime; while the
worship of Ashtaroth involved the pollution of the young of both sexes,
and Moloch demanded sacrifices of children. Divination was also practised.

It is interesting to note the following particulars regarding Ancient
Egypt:—

The civilisation of Egypt did not come down the Nile—the black people
from the land of Cush being represented on Egyptian monuments as
Pharoah’s servants. The Egyptians are akin in customs to the Asiatics.
Some say the Egyptians and Indians are of the same origin (_cf._
Prichard).

_Weapons, Tools, &c._—The old Egyptians had bows, shields, javelins,
and slings. [The latter we have not seen among Eastern Central African
tribes, but their hoes and wooden pillows resemble the Egyptian.] The old
Egyptians pounded in stone mortars with metal pestles, and knew something
of glass-blowing 3500 years ago—a trade which our African pupils
considered “too wonderful”. Young children were carried at their mother’s
breast, rarely at her back as in Central Africa.

_Offerings, &c._—The people inquired whether the deceased deserved the
rites of burial Weapons, &c., were buried with him (39). When mourning,
they abstained from “the bath, wine, delicacies of the table, or rich
clothing” (49). (The priests in their purifications excluded _salt_ from
their meals, ... shaved the head and the whole body every third day.)
They called on the deceased according to the degree of relationship, as
“O my father”. A dirge was chanted to the sound of a tambourine. Mummies
were kept in their houses in order that relations might have their
deceased with them. (So the Romans gave funeral oblations to their dead,
flowers, libations, and victims.) The offerings to the dead were similar
to the ordinary oblations in honour of the gods. Offerings were made to
Osiris in name of the deceased after the burial.

The first fruits of the lentils was placed on the altars of the Egyptian
gods (20). The offering of first fruits was an offering of obligation.
Offerings of wine (24), oil, bread (21), salt, were offerings of
devotion. Ears of new corn were parched at the fire. There is some
testimony to the effect that human beings were sacrificed.

_Mysteries._—Circumcision was practised from the earliest times, and when
it was administered instruction was given in the mysteries. One part of
the initiation was to see the figure of the god (53).

_Oracles_ were consulted on all important occasions (14). Dreams were
regarded with religious reverence (15), and thus the gods told the proper
remedies for disease (Diodorus). But it was known that most diseases
proceed from “indigestion and excess of eating”. Bodies were examined to
find the causes of death (Pliny).

Women suspected of infidelity drank a cup of bitter water to prove
innocence or guilt (107). The king was the chief of the church and of the
state (7).

On studying tribal customs we find that much similarity arises from the
very constitution of human nature. Circumstances also exert a great
influence. Races are so modified when they obtain cows, horses, or
even the rudiments of a calendar, that we are at once puzzled by the
difference between them and the rest of their clan. Besides, we must
ever remember the enormous influence of the individual. A whole tribe
like the Ovambo derived the habit of squirting water in the face to
prevent witchcraft from one king. If a stray man settled in Negroland
with two or three wives 3000 years ago, the descendents of this person
would now count by millions on millions! What are now large African
tribes evidently descended from an ancestor that lived not so many
centuries ago. The whole tribe naturally follows and develops certain
characteristics of this ancestor, and as it keeps aloof from other
tribes, it soon has distinct peculiarities in speech and customs. Even in
England almost each county has certain peculiarities, a fact which will
illustrate to what a great extent such developments may grow among tribes
that have no written literature, and no means of keeping up communication
with their neighbours. Often have I wondered, as I gazed on these African
mountains and valleys, what tales they could tell, if they only found
a tongue. Much, I believe, may be yet learned by the study of native
legends and mythologies, which frequently condescend on names; but after
all, there are many secrets which will remain undisclosed until those
mountains and valleys give up their dead.




CHAPTER XVII.

AFRICAN PHILOLOGY.

    “There is a notion that African languages are rude and
    imperfect. They are no such thing.”—BISHOP STEERE.


What makes one language more perfect than another? What is a
philosophical language? We judge a language by the way in which it
fulfils its purpose: its great purpose being to express thought.
Every language is a means of expressing thought by words. In
one tongue we express certain thoughts easily and conveniently,
which in another we have to express in a cumbrous manner. Thus
instead of saying “inapplicabilities,” we might have to say
“the-plural-condition-of-not-being-able-to-fold-one-thing-into-another”.
To express thought words must be used in a particular way: the words
themselves are the vocabulary, the particular way in which they are
used is the grammar. In estimating a language, we must consider (A) its
vocabulary, (B) its grammar.


A. THE VOCABULARY.

1. _The Number of Words._—(_a_) A language may have too many words. In
English, multitudes of words have been taken from other tongues. Thus
we have the numeral _one_, and also _unit_ (Latin) and _monad_ (Greek).
Unless such words are necessary, there is a loss of simplicity, which is
felt by a foreigner trying to learn the language; and which we could make
apparent to ourselves by introducing from three other languages three
additional words for _one_, with all their derivatives. So long as such
new words indicate different shades of meaning, their presence shows
fertility in thought; but where they do not each indicate a separate
and necessary meaning, they encumber the language. As writing is the
chief means of giving permanency to unnecessary words, we find that an
unwritten language like Yao is not thus burdened, and seldom uses two or
three words where one might do. There are, however, cases of apparent
excess. We have a word for _his elder brother_, and quite a distinct word
for _his younger brother_. Many such cases, however, arise really from
deficiency—there is no word in the language for _brother_. Again, we have
words for _my younger brother_, _your younger brother_, &c., but no word
for _younger brother_.

(_b_) A language may have too few words. I have never seen Africans of
the same tribe trying to talk with each other and breaking down for want
of vocables. They have always language enough to express their ideas. But
they have often to use circumlocutions. Instead of saying a _pen_ they
speak of a (thing) with which to write or mark. It would be unfair to
expect the Yao to have a name for _ice_, any more than the English have
a name for anything they don’t know of, but every language should have
easy methods of forming new words where they are wanted.

While sufficient for ordinary purposes, the words of a language may be
too few for exact translation. The English vocabulary enables us to
speak of: (1) Objects (and actions) in the material world. (2) Relations
between these objects; such relations are numerous. (3) Things and
relations in the mental world, which are named through analogies in the
material world, for material things are more readily named than mental.
(4) Besides there are the names of Science. In names of the 1st kind, Yao
is as full as English. In names of the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th kinds, where a
greater abstraction is implied, it falls short. An African, while able
to perceive all such relations, &c., does not find it necessary to name
many of them. Even though he named all that he observed, his names would
be lost, for in the absence of writing, few words acquire fixity except
those in general use. Take the word _grey_; present a grey object to a
Yao, and he calls it black or white, but as a matter of fact, he knows
perfectly that it is different from either of these colours. In English
we speak of a man as being good, upright, straightforward, true, honest,
honourable, just, strict, religious, pious, holy, pleasant, courteous,
&c.; but in Yao there are not names for so many shades of character, and
one or two words must do service for the whole list. We shall not wonder
at this if we consider how many of the above epithets have been taken
into the English language from other tongues. A modern mission to our
Saxon ancestors would have found their vocabulary as poor as we find the
African.

2. _The Nature of the Words._—Where one language has an easy word,
another may express the same idea (_a_) by a word dreadful to
pronounce—“a vocable sufficient to splinter the teeth of a crocodile”; or
(_b_) by a cumbrous combination of words.

(_a_) The Yao words are easy to pronounce, the rule being that every
consonant is followed by a vowel. But they are longer than English
words. If a Yao had to say _transubstantiations_, he would say
_tiransubisitantiation(i)si_. Again, where we say “You believed him,” he
prefers to say “You-him-believed,” in one word.

(_b_) A language may have a cumbrous combination of words. When the
Romans had to work with their numerical notation of IX. and XI., we can
excuse them for not making much of simple multiplication and division. So
when the Yao express 99 by _makumi msanu ni makumi mcheche kwisa msanu ni
mcheche_,[14] we may expect that their numerical system will not care to
go any farther!


B. GRAMMAR.

What parts of speech are first used? Interjections like _ah!_ and
imitations of sounds like “crow” come very soon. Now, when children utter
the word “crow” what is its nature? Is it a noun meaning the sound, or
is it a verb in reference to the production of the sound, or is it too
indefinite to be classed? When it does become definite, it is certainly
more like a noun or a verb than anything else. The only other part of
speech that might come into competition is the adjective; but if we look
at what the adjective does in Grammar, we see that it already implies the
noun.

The noun and the verb are the parts of speech that are most readily
obtained,—that lie nearest to hand in nature. But the nouns and verbs
that we meet with generally go far beyond the individual. Such a word
as house, though denoting a single object, could not have been formed
without abstraction. This position is illustrated in any text-book on
Logic under the Logical notion. The word “house,” while denoting a
special object, implies that this object has certain characteristics. Yet
the degree of abstraction is greater for other parts of speech. To take
an illustration. We know that “John built houses,” and that “John did not
enter these houses”. Now, we might state these two ideas without anything
farther; but most languages bring in another idea, thus, “John built
houses _but_ he never entered them”. The new idea marked by _but_ arises
from contrasting the other two ideas, and could not exist till both of
them existed. So we cannot speak of a good house till we know of a house,
neither can we speak of “building well,” or “building for a friend” till
we first know about “building”.

Thus, the more concrete words are the nouns and verbs; adjectives and
pronouns are less so, while adverbs, prepositions, and conjunctions
are very abstract, and are often so few in many languages as to be
classed together as particles. The concrete words describe the easier
thoughts, the primary modifications of thought, the abstract words
describe secondary or more abstract modifications of thought. Hence, as
we might anticipate, we find the Yao language well supplied with nouns,
verbs, and even pronouns, but as we go beyond these to adjectives, the
supply is less, and still less as we pass on to adverbs, prepositions,
and conjunctions. The scarcity of prepositions and conjunctions often
discourages the European who studies the language. It is a great shock to
discover that the English words _to_ and _from_ are represented by one
and the same native word!

We shall now show how the Yao language deals (1) with the principal parts
of speech, (2) with the subordinate.

1. The chief thing to note regarding the _principal parts of speech_ is
their inflexion. The fewer the inflexions, the greater is the simplicity.

(_a_) _Inflexion for Concord._—We have

    IN ENGLISH.   IN LATIN.

    good hill     bon_us_ mons
    good tree     bon_a_ arbor
    good field    bon_um_ arvum

The change in the adjective (like good-us, a, um) is cumbrous, and is
seldom necessary. A boy trying Latin at school mistakes in saying _bonus
arbor_, but he has little chance of being misunderstood. Yao gives ten
concords of this kind with their plurals. This is a severe infliction,
although we can generally tell by inspection what concord is required.

(_b_). _Inflection for Government._—English nouns have one inflexion for
case, Latin nouns have six. The Yao noun has no inflexion of the same
kind, but it modifies the verb so as to indicate its relation to the
noun. These modifications correspond in number (ten) with the concords.

The advantage of many inflexions is that related words are marked so
clearly that they may be separated from each other or have their order
changed. The Yao could speak of ten nouns and say _that_ is hard,
_that_ is soft, &c., without ambiguity, where our word _that_ (which
never changes) is powerless. Again, in English we cannot say “the sire
the son addressed”. In Latin, _sire_ and _son_ are so marked that the
meaning is unmistakeable in any order. But such advantage is small. So
great explicitness as inflected languages mark at every step, is seldom
necessary. The Yao, then, as compared with English, takes too much
trouble with the principal parts of speech. Its process of fitting out
nouns and verbs (which affects also adjectives and particles), is too
minute and cumbrous.

2. Coming now to the more abstract and _subordinate parts of speech_, we
find that while the English language has many of these, the Yao language
has not; and to make up for the want it throws more work on the principal
parts of speech. In English we say, “to build a house for him”; the Yao
modifies the verb “build” till it means “build-for,” and dismisses the
preposition. In most of these cases the English language has an advantage
like that which arises from the principle of division of labour in other
matters.

We shall now sum up these results, and add a few more in the following
table:—

  -------------------+----------------------------+--------------------+
                     |      ENGLISH.              |      LATIN.        |
  -------------------+----------------------------+--------------------+
  SYLLABLES          | May end with consonant     | May end with       |
                     |                            |  consonant         |
                     |                            |                    |
  PLACE OF ACCENT    | Not uniform                |                    |
                     |                            |                    |
  VOWEL SOUNDS       | Numerous                   |                    |
                     |                            |                    |
  INFLEXIONS FOR     | At end (of words)          | At end             |
    NUMBER IN        |                            |                    |
    NOUNS            |                            |                    |
                     |                            |                    |
  DUAL NUMBER        | Traces of (_both_)         | Traces of (_ambo_).|
                     |                            |  Common in Greek   |
                     |                            |                    |
  CASE INFLEXION     | Only in pronouns           | Highly developed   |
  (Nouns or Prons.)  |                            |                    |
                     |                            |                    |
  CONCORD INFLEX.    | Only in pronouns           | Much used          |
                     |                            |                    |
  CHARACTER OF       | Pronouns are masc.,        | Masc., fem., and   |
    THE CONCORD      |  fem., or neut.; but       |  neuter            |
                     |  the distinction disappears|                    |
                     |  in the plural             |                    |
                     |                            |                    |
  RULES FOR APPLYING | According to sex           | Faintly indicated  |
    THIS             |                            |  by the termination|
    CONCORD          |                            |  of the noun       |
                     |                            |                    |
  NUMBER INFLEXION   | At end; rare               | At end, almost     |
    IN VERB          |                            |  superseded by     |
                     |                            |  the inflexion     |
                     |                            |  for person        |
                     |                            |                    |
  CONCORD INFLEXION  | None                       | None (exc. when    |
    IN VERB          |                            |  a verb is made    |
                     |                            |  up of participle  |
                     |                            |  and auxiliary)    |
                     |                            |                    |
  INFLEXION FOR      | Rare; at end               | General; at end    |
    PERSON           |                            |                    |
                     |                            |                    |
  INFLEXION OF       | None                       | None               |
    VERB TO INDICATE |                            |                    |
    ITS OBJECT       |                            |                    |
                     |                            |                    |
  INFLEXION FOR      | At end. When words         | At end             |
    MOODS AND        |  are put at the beginning  |                    |
    TENSES           |  they retain their         |                    |
                     |  independent character,    |                    |
                     |  and are called            |                    |
                     |  auxiliaries               |                    |
                     |                            |                    |
  MODIFICATIONS OF   | Few                        | Many               |
    ACTION GENERALLY |                            |                    |
                     |                            |                    |
  USE OF ADVERBS,    | Large                      | Fewer prepositions |
    PREPOSITIONS,    |                            |  than in           |
    & OTHER          |                            |  English owing to  |
    PARTICLES        |                            |  case inflexions   |
                     |                            |                    |
  COMPOUND WORDS     | Numerous                   | Numerous           |
  -------------------+----------------------------+--------------------+

  -------------------+------------------+----------------------------------
                     |    HEBREW.       |    YAO.
  -------------------+------------------+----------------------------------
  SYLLABLES          | Preference for   | Natives find difficulty in
                     |  open syllables  |  pronouncing syllables ending
                     |  except where    |  with a consonant: theirs all
                     |  accented        |  end with a vowel.
                     |                  |
  PLACE OF ACCENT    |                  | Great uniformity (nearly always
                     |                  |  on the penult in Chinyasa).
  VOWEL SOUNDS       |                  | Few.
                     |                  |
  INFLEXIONS FOR     | At end           | At beginning.
    NUMBER IN        |                  |
    NOUNS            |                  |
                     |                  |
  DUAL NUMBER        | Used             | No trace: _e.g._, a word like
                     |                  |  _both_ is translated by _all_
                     |                  | (all the two).
                     |                  |
  CASE INFLEXION     | Traces found     | Entirely absent.
  (Nouns or Prons.)  |                  |
                     |                  |
  CONCORD INFLEX.    | Used             | Exceedingly numerous.
                     |                  |
  CHARACTER OF       | Masc. and fem.   | No trace of masculine or feminine
    THE CONCORD      |                  |  inflexion even in pronouns: but
                     |                  |  distinctions like (1) personal
                     |                  |  or personified, (2) impersonal;
                     |                  |  the latter being subdivided into
                     |                  |  names of objects in nature,
                     |                  |  collective, abstract,
                     |                  |  ampliative, diminutive, &c.
                     |                  |
  RULES FOR APPLYING | Faintly indicated| Almost infallibly indicated by
    THIS             | by the termin-   |  the beginning of the noun.
    CONCORD          | ation of the noun|
                     |                  |
  NUMBER INFLEXION   | At end and at    | At beginning.
    IN VERB          |  beginning       |
                     |                  |
  CONCORD INFLEXION  | Used             | Used.
    IN VERB          |                  |
                     |                  |
  INFLEXION FOR      |Gen.; at beginning| General; at beginning.
    PERSON           |  and end         |
                     |                  |
  INFLEXION OF       |Pronomenal        | General, and used to distinguish
    VERB TO INDICATE |  suffixes        |  definite and indefinite objects.
    ITS OBJECT.      |                  |
                     |                  |
  INFLEXION FOR      |At beginning and  | At beginning (and end).
    MOODS AND        | end              |
    TENSES           |                  |
                     |                  |
  MODIFICATIONS OF   |Not so many for   | Numerous. instead of an adverb
    ACTION GENERALLY | moods & tenses,  |  _not_, there is a complicated
                     | but modifications|  negative inflexion.
                     | of action        |
                     | are expressed    |
                     | often by modific-|
                     | ations of verb   |
                     | instead of adv.  |
                     |                  |
  USE OF ADVERBS,    |                  | More work is thrown on the
    PREPOSITIONS,    |                  |  principal parts of speech, and
    & OTHER          |                  |  particles are not much used.
    PARTICLES        |                  |
                     |                  |
  COMPOUND WORDS     |                  | Hardly any except in names; but
                     |                  |  derivative nouns can be formed
                     |                  |  very readily.
  -------------------+------------------+----------------------------------

We select Latin and Hebrew, because the one is of the Aryan family of
languages and the other of the Semitic.

What is a family—and when are languages said to belong to the same family?

Languages, like everything else, are classed with reference to
similarity. The similarity may be in grammar, or in vocabulary, the
former kind of agreement being the more decisive. Let us take an example
of agreement in vocabulary. In the Aryan group of languages the word
for five is _pantshan_ in Sanscrit, _pente_ in Greek, _quinque_ in
Latin, _pump_ in Welsh, _funf_ in German, and _fif_ in Anglo-Saxon.
Agreements of this kind go to prove that the languages belong to one
great family. Next we reach the conclusion that the races that used
them had a common ancestry who dwelt in an old “Aryan home”. But can we
prove that the Semitic languages have any kinship to the Aryan? Some
try to do so by looking for coincidences in certain words, as in the
numerals. For instance, the Hebrew for five is _chimasha_. Has this any
relation to _pantshan_? In looking at the Yao language we often find
certain coincidences. If the Yao had ever derived a word for five from
_pantshan_, they would have put a vowel at the end, and further, they
would have treated the beginning of the word as being less important
(just as the Greeks treat the end of the words as of less importance).
Now, it is singular that the Yao word for five is _msano_, the Swahili
_tano_, the Chinyasa _sanu_, and the Nyamwesi _nhanu_!

Resemblances of this kind, if numerous and not accidental, would point
us towards a time when all “the earth was of one language and one speech”.

As we have already hinted, the Bantu family of languages, to which the
Yao belongs, fills nearly the whole of Southern Africa. Besides the
Bantu people there are the Hottentots. As early as 1850 we find Dr. W.
H. J. Bleek writing, “The Hottentot language is to me at this moment of
greater interest than any other. The facts have now so increased upon me
and offer such strong analogies, that there is no further doubt in my
own mind, that not only the Coptic but also the Semitic and all other
languages of Africa (as Berber, the Galla dialect, &c., &c.), in which
the distinction of the masculine and feminine gender pervades the whole
grammar are of common origin”. Although the Yao is a genderless language,
much of its folk lore resembles the Hottentot. Dr. Bleek has published 42
Hottentot tales. I have heard amongst the Yao, tales corresponding to 16
or 18 of these.




CHAPTER XVIII.

AFRICAN PHILOLOGY.—(_Continued_).


Before stating the peculiarities of the Yao language, I shall illustrate
the subject by reference to the speech of children. This form of
illustration applies to unwritten languages generally; and although
not much alluded to in books on Philology, it is, I venture to think,
exceedingly important, not only for the theory of language, but for
the guidance of persons that are confronted with unwritten tongues.
While children are learning to speak, their slowness comes not entirely
from the intellect, but from want of command of the vocal organs. On
encountering a word that they cannot pronounce, they frame a word of
their own which they employ instead. In imitating the word _table_,
a child may say _dodo_, a sound which at first sight seems to have
no relation to the word “table”. Yet the child employs it uniformly,
and often for more than a year. Such imperfect imitations are not by
accident: they follow laws similar to those principles that operate in
changing the same original sound into the _quinque_ of Latin, the _pump_
of Welsh, and the _five_ of English.

_Form of Words._—The syllable easiest for a child is a single consonant
followed by a vowel. For _basket_ a child says _tase_; for _purse_, he
says _tuse_. Where two consonants come together, as the _sk_ and _rs_ of
these words, the child throws out one of them. He also drops the final
_t_ in _basket_, and obtains a syllable ending with a vowel; and where no
vowel exists he supplies one, as in _tuse_ for _purse_ (purs).

_Beginning of Syllables._—Some maintain that we cannot begin a syllable
without a consonant, or at least an aspirate like what the Greeks wrote.
Children seem to be exceptions as they leave out a difficult consonant
and begin with a vowel—_that_ becomes _at_ as well as _tat_ but even in
_at_ there exists the kind of aspirate contended for. In the Yao language
syllables almost always begin with a consonant. Here arises an important
principle of spelling. I should not like to decide whether we ought to
write _Ya-o_ or _Ya-wo_. The natives themselves had no writing till we
taught them, and on words like _Yao_, my best pupils were divided. Some
pronounced and spelt _Yao_, others _Yawo_. I believe that the sound at
first was _Yawo_, and etymology in many cases bears out my conclusion.
But in course of time the original _Yawo_ may be rendered _Yao_, as an
original h_onest_ has become _onest_.

_End of Syllables._—It is not so easy to end a syllable with a consonant.
The child’s earlier syllables end with vowels as _papa_. The difficulty
of pulling up the voice at once is seen in the utterance of certain words
like rock, especially by Scotchmen who often unconsciously pronounce as
if the word were _rocka_. All Yao syllables end with a vowel.

_Parts of Speech._—The language of childhood shows that man observes
things before he observes the relations between them. Nouns and verbs
come before the other parts of speech, but when first employed they
are more like interjections. The imperative of the verb, which is as
near to an interjection as may be, forms a large element in infantile
speech: thus adjectives when first used are in effect imperatives or
interjections. The expression _Doto dad_ (doctor bad) is synonymous
with _Doto, go-way_ (doctor, go away). Whether nouns or verbs come
first is hardly worth discussing, because it is misleading to apply the
distinction of parts of speech at a stage where speech has no parts. But
it may be noted that what we call nouns are used by the child like verbs:
thus, _No tair_ (chair) means “Do not put me on the chair”.

_The Meaning of Nouns._—Nouns at first denote individuals like _papa_,
_mamma_. But the child by and by sums up in these words a great deal of
meaning, and if he were placed in a world where he saw no white woman
but his mother, the next female that appeared he would call mamma. So if
the only animal he is acquainted with be a dog, he at first calls goats,
sheep, or rabbits all dogs.

_Inflexion of Nouns._—A child sees no need of inflexions, and forms his
first sentences accordingly. He says _more man_ for _more men_, _see
more camel_ for _see more camels_. After he feels the need of a plural,
his first impulse is to express it by old materials, and then _see more
camel_ is used where the meaning undoubtedly is _see the camels_ or _see
camels_. The possessive case is similarly dispensed with: for _John’s
book_ we get _John boop_. This has a strong relevancy in the explanation
of African tongues, where _Kumlomba brother_ is used for _Kumlomba’s
brother_.

_Adjectives_ are at first used exactly like nouns. We tell a child _it
is hot in there_, and he says _hot in ’ere_, and immediately adds _fire
in ’ere_, thus showing that he considers _hot_ as a substitute for the
corresponding noun. Moreover adjectives, on their first appearance, are
often used to make compound nouns in which the adjective meaning is lost.
The child says, _Dem dood-doy_ for _James is a good boy_. _Dood-doy_ is
really one word, and is rather a noun than an adjective. This explains
why it is that in African tongues simple adjectives are very few. In the
Yao language, adjectives being so unimportant, have no inflexion for
comparison. _Articles_ are entirely dispensed with by children. _Look at
the man_, _look at a man_, are both rendered _ook man_.

_Pronouns_ are not easily understood at first. A child hears the words,
_Come, and I will bathe you_: by and by he asks for his _bathe yow_,
_bathe-you_ being understood as a single word, which he construes as
a noun. It is long before he says _I did it_; he says _James did it_
instead. Also for _my boot_ he says _Dem toot_ (James’ boot). Indeed, the
interrogative pronoun _who_ seems to be understood before the personal
pronouns.

_Relative pronouns_ come very much later. Hence in African tongues they
are poorly represented. They resemble conjunctions, and are introduced
into the vocabulary of childhood, we believe, even later than they.

_Verbs._—Children are fond of viewing a complex phenomenon as an action.
When we tell a child to look at the men tying on a sail, we call forth
the expression _tat tying on_ for _that is a tying on_. The subject
and object are thus ignored in comparison with the action itself. So
in African tongues the verb is of overwhelming importance. Besides the
imperative, one part of the verb frequently used in childhood is the
participle: as _James eating food_ for _James is eating his food_. The
_eating_ is used as a noun or an infinitive. The infinitive is largely
used in Yao to express action in general, and the indicative mood is
formed from it.

_Adverbs_ are by children often used as imperatives, as _quick!_ (Adverbs
of place as well as demonstrative adjectives are soon used in company
with vocal gestures.) Negation is early expressed by putting _no_ before
verbs or nouns, as, _Doto no go_, for _the doctor did not go_, _no home_,
for _we will not go home_.

Often adverbs make but one idea with the adjective or verb that they
are attached to, as _go-away_. The same thing is seen in the case of
prepositions. _Put on your coat_ is rendered _tut on toat_ and even
_ton toat_, _pu_ falling out and _ton_ being used for a verb. So, _put
off your coat_ is _toff toat_. This principle illustrates what has been
called applied verbs and causative verbs. A neuter verb like _put_ is
made transitive by placing another word like _on_ after it, and this
other word is liable to become part of the verb, as if _put on_ was
the transitive form of _put_. The principle is of the greatest use
in explaining African derivative verbs. Again, children often omit
prepositions. _Look man_, is used for _look at a man_; _man ’os_ for _a
man on a horse_.

As regards _conjunctions_, simple people like children are often content
to express one idea or sentence at a time. When they have to join two
ideas or sentences they put them side by side without any connecting
word. _James and papa_ becomes in the infantile language _James, papa_.

In the same way, connecting words like the logical copula, are at first
omitted, as _Dem dad boy_, for _James is a bad boy_. The tendency to omit
the copula, throws light on the earlier use of adjectives. When the child
says _bad-boy_, the expression is to be taken as a single word, and we
may call it a noun. But often the child sooner understands, _boy bad_,
the equivalent to him, of _the boy is bad_; which thought is ultimately
developed as it is written, though at first the child views it as being
the equivalent of _boy, go away_.

Unwritten languages are marked by a peculiar _graphicness_, arising
partly from the omission of connecting words, and partly from other
causes. The expression, “if you be sufficiently warm, you will be
sufficiently braw (well-dressed),” is very weak, when compared with the
proverbial “warm enough, braw enough”. A savage, or a child, would feel
it very tame to say, “if you do not cover your well, some one will walk
into it”. He would say, “cover your well, a man will go into it, plump!”
Instead of an intangible, “one cannot say what one would think, if one
fell into a well,” the more natural language of childhood is, “I cannot
say what I would think, &c.,” or, “you cannot tell what you would think,
&c.” Instead of “he stabbed him very deeply,” we have, “he put the knife
into him that length!”

The above remarks on the imitation of sounds and speech by infants,
besides illustrating an unwritten language, will enable a reader, to
whom the subject really is new, to understand how languages that are of
the same family, may yet differ immensely. It is to be remembered that
different individuals imitate differently. While some find it easier to
throw out consonants, others put them in, as some men find it easy to say
_Amelia-r-an_ for _Amelia Ann_. Again, children often modify their vowels
to compensate for some consonant they cannot pronounce. When a child says
_tate_, for _blanket_, the _a_ is emphasised through an effort to embrace
the _n_. Some African races say Nyansa, others Nyasa, with the _a_ so
modified that we might write, Nyaasa, or Nyassa.

Like children beginning to speak, certain races have few consonants, and
are obliged to throw much work upon them. Thus one tribe had to call
Captain Cook, the first Englishman that they met, Taptain Toot, making
the _t_ do duty for the _c_ (_k_).

When we think of the various ways in which a language may be modified,
we are much struck by studying a work like Koelle’s _Polyglotta
Africana_, which points to striking affinities, traceable among African
tongues. Moreover, such works are liable to be at first obscured through
misleading data. Perplexity is caused by words from languages that had
not been perfectly studied at the time. Thus where there are two words
for “woman,” the philologist may hear only one, which instead of being
the proper instrument for tracing affinities, may be derived from another
word within the special dialect. Again in one language an old word for
“woman,” may have been superseded, although some derivatives from it yet
remain. As more languages are gradually reduced, a rich harvest awaits
the philologist in Africa.

These illustrations from the speech of children, include nearly all
that will be expected from one giving a general account of an African
language. We are aware of the danger of converting illustrations into
principles without stating their limitations: as did the man who wanted
to prove that all speech was but a development of the utterances of the
lower animals. After making observations on two of his children, he found
his theory much confirmed; but when he tried the third child, its first
utterance was, “Don’t tease, go away”. This wonderful sentence brought
his theory into discredit; but it is clear that I may claim this child in
confirmation of what I have adduced. Its first utterance is made up of
imperatives, and this on our principles, is just what it ought to be!

It remains only to give a short account of points not yet touched on.

_Sounds._ Vowels and consonants are much modified for euphony. The
consonant changes may be exemplified in connection with the letter _n_,
_e.g._, ku-n-lola becomes kundola; and in ku-n-sosa the _n_ is entirely
dropped, but the preceding vowel is lengthened, and the word might be
written kuusosa. In this way,

    n-l becomes nd, n, l, or nil
    n-f    ”    f
    n-m    ”    m
    n-n    ”    n
    n-s    ”    s
    n-u    ”    u
    n-ng   ”    ng’
    n-j    ”    ny
    n-k    ”    ng
    n-t    ”    nd
    n-w    ”    mbw, &c., &c.

In African spelling, some advocate the disbanding of _j_ and _ch_ in
favour of _tsh_ and _dzh_, but the changes of _ch_ and _j_ after the
letter _n_ afford an argument against writing these letters _tsh_ and
_dzh_ in the Yao language. Thus, for kunchondelela (kuntshondelela) we
hear kunjondelela (kundzhondelela), and not kundshondelela. But such
questions turn greatly on expediency.

_Words._—An English word like _loved_, is found to consist of two
elements, a simpler word _love_, and the ending _d_. If the simpler word
_love_ be not traced farther back it is called a root. The other element
_d_ indicates the modification of the root. In order to give an account
of such a word we have to explain (1) the root, (2) the modification of
it. The modification of it by the addition of _d_ is well explained when
we have found that _d_ is for _did_.

But how do roots arise? A great many are imitations of sounds in nature,
others may be utterances which were at first accidentally associated with
certain objects.

Yao words we may explain in the following manner. In the case of kulemba
(to write, mark), we may suppose that the root _lemb_ or rather _lembe_
expresses the sound made by some scratching instrument. Hence we have
_lemba_ the shortest form of the verb. From this verbal root we may form
ten nouns which express different meanings and fall into ten classes.
Strangely enough these classes correspond to a great extent with the
classifications of the noun stated in some English grammars (see Bain’s
Grammar). They may be exemplified as follows:—

     1 { Mlemba, a writer             } (personal)
       { Ju-akulemba, one that writes }
     2 Ulembe, writing, marking (abstract)
     3 Ndembile (nembo), a writing
     4 Chilembo, a great mark (ampliative)
     5 Lilembo, a mark }  names of natural objects
     6 Lulembo, a mark }
     7 Kalembo, a little mark (diminutive)
     8 Kulemba, writing (verbal noun or infinitive)
     9 Pakulembila, a place-for-writing-at, desk
    10 Mukulembila, a-place-for-writing in, office

These ten classes of nouns may be formed in connection with every verb.
The 2nd class, besides embracing abstract nouns includes the names of all
trees that begin with _m_; while the third class embraces the names of
birds and animals, especially such as appear in flocks; as deer, sheep;
and the words in this class have now no plural though there is some
evidence that they had a plural formerly.

_Sentences._—A noun in a sentence demands the concord of adjectives,
pronouns, and verbs. This is the only important concord in the language.
The absence of gender is a great peculiarity. A native may make a long
speech about a person while his audience do not know whether it is a man
or a woman that is spoken of. Again, when a native speaks of persons
it may be impossible to tell whether he means one person, or several.
Originally, the singular of the third person was distinct from the
plural, but by the use of a plural of excellence one man is habitually
spoken of as _they_. This is a refinement of politeness.[15] In the same
way the English language employs _you_ instead of _thou_: these natives
go farther on the same lines, throwing away not only number, but person
also. In England, where the question is asked “where are you going” the
reply will be “I am going to _your_ house”. The African for the same
meaning would reply “I am going to _his_ house”. Traces of the same
refinement exist in England: thus, instead of “What do you want” we may
hear “What does _his_ Reverence want?”

The following will show the method of tense formation. The present
indicative, I love, may be analysed into I-a-loving or I-to-love (person,
preposition, and verb). The perfect tense, indicating completed action,
is made up of the root meaning love, and an affix which seems to be akin
to a demonstrative pronoun, and signifies that the action is _there_ or
_at a distance_ now. One future tense is formed from a participle with a
negative, so that I shall love = I-a-loving but-_not-yet_.

These are the three leading tenses, but the fertility of tense forms is
amazing—thus we have a tense for “Why should I neglect to love?” Yao has
a great wealth of participles, which seem to be wanting entirely in
Chinyasa.

Derived verbs are numerous. From a word leka, _to leave_, we have lechela
(for lekela) _leave for_; lechesya and lekasya (whose terminations remind
one of the Greek idso) with _causative_ meanings; lekana (= leka na;
na = with) _leave each other_, or _together_; lekanya, _separate_ with
causative lekanisya; as also lekwa and lecheka with passive and neuter
meanings.

In the study of these languages we are often reminded that what are
now to us familiar words, were really formed with much difficulty, and
we are not so ready to laugh at the Etymologist who derived the Latin
word _nihil_ for _nothing_ from a _bean_, as if it originally meant
“not a single pea”! In some African dialects there is great difficulty
in getting a word to translate “nothing”. Yet, after all, the English
language has not much to boast of here; some of these dialects can also
furnish a derivative word like no-thing.




CHAPTER XIX.

ESTIMATE OF NATIVE CHARACTER.

    “The savage is essentially cruel, not having the least regard
    for the sufferings of others, and inflicting the most frightful
    tortures with calm enjoyment. As for morality, as we understand
    the word, the true savage has no conception of it, and the
    scenes which nightly take place in savage lands, are of such
    a nature that travellers pass them over in discreet silence.
    Honesty in its right sense is equally unknown, and so is
    truthfulness, a successful theft, and an undetected falsehood,
    being evidences of skill and ingenuity, and by no means a
    disgrace.”—T. G. WOOD’S _Nat. Hist. of Man_.


In speaking of Native Character we begin with the PHYSICAL side.
The _features_, despite thick lips and flat noses, are by no means
unpleasant. The forehead is well formed. At first all black faces seemed
alike, but this was because the blackness was then strange to us, and not
because the faces wanted variety: after returning from a long stay among
negroes, we felt the same difficulty in distinguishing white faces.

Their _figures_ are tall and graceful. Some of the men are six feet
high, while few can be called little. The women, owing to their out-door
work, are strikingly tall and strong. After becoming accustomed to their
“want of dress,” one feels that natives are seen to most advantage in
their own costume. They don’t look well in garments of the ordinary
coat-and-trousers description,—coloured shirts, or even white shirts with
red borders suit better.

Their _powers of endurance_ are very great. Men and women will carry
sixty pounds on the head, and walk at a brisk pace for two days’ journey
of forty miles. As they march thus under a burning sun, their whole
body is covered with beads of perspiration, yet they do not succumb. In
estimating the value of certain Roman Generals, Livy was careful to note,
that they had the power of enduring hunger for a long time. The Yao would
have merited his praise, for they possess this power in an extraordinary
degree. They will march for days without any “ostensible” means of
keeping themselves alive. On occasions when we misjudged distances, and
were obliged to pass about 20 hours (mostly of great exertion) without
food, our anxiety about our companions, was met by the polite assurance
that “they had eaten”. They even contrived to turn the sympathy the other
way by saying, “We are used to hunger, but the white man will faint”. The
white man might endure hunger nearly as long, but the native has this
advantage—when food comes he has an enormous capacity for quantity, he is
a “dreadful eater,” while the white man can scarcely taste a morsel. The
natives can also endure the burning thirst of this land. On a long day’s
march, they pass all the streams in the morning without drinking: it is
not till three or four o’clock in the afternoon that they become thirsty.
But the white man may drink by the end of the first hour, and then he
becomes “demoralised” for the day. As he continues the hot march his
thirst increases but he cannot quench it. He arrives at a clear rippling
brook, hastily puts a stone under his knees—a drinking jug is a mockery
now, he must get at the stream itself—still he is never quite satisfied.
He craves the drinking for its own sake. After imbibing a great quantity
of water, he is grieved that he cannot go on drinking more, and no sooner
has he left one stream than he begins to long for another. The unpleasant
craving continues till the sun begins to sink in the west. He may avoid
the torture by abstaining from drinking at first, only to exercise this
self-denial, it is almost imperative to shut the eyes when passing a
stream! Some natives suffer in the same way, but they are chiefly boys.

When much exhausted the natives light a pipe, each takes one or two
whiffs and passes it on to his neighbour. In a few minutes all are
inspired with fresh energy. In work that they do not like, they very soon
complain of fatigue, but in other cases, even when asked to rest, they
redouble their energies, while they make the whole welkin ring with some
wild song. They are never so tired that the sight of game does not rouse
them to every energy necessary for pursuit.

The natives are vegetarians not of choice, but of necessity. Few can
procure much flesh, and they avoid milk and eggs on superstitious
grounds. They are, therefore, in the opinion of some, deficient in
muscle. They certainly do not excel in doing work that requires a dead
strain, but this is due to want of practice—they are not used to such
work. At their own homes they never require to raise heavy stones or
weights, and their naked legs and arms are out of keeping with the task.
Constant exposure of their bodies to the elements, renders them very
hardy. This feature in the African has almost become proverbial. “From
constant usage, the soles of his feet are defended by a thickened skin as
insensible as the sole of any boot. He will walk with uncommon unconcern
over sharp stones and thorns, which would lame a European at the first
step.”

Mr. Wood remarks that, “Their state of health enables them to survive
injuries which would be almost instantly fatal to an ordinary civilised
European,” and mentions a wonderful case of two young girls that were
removed from a heap of corpses. “One had received 19 stabs with the
assegai, and the other 21. They survived their dreadful wounds, reaching
womanhood, though both crippled for life.” “The dreaded ‘stick’ of
the Orientals, would lose its terrors to a Kaffir, who would endure
the bastinado with comparative impunity.” The same writer speaks of a
Hottentot wagon-driver who fell under the wheels of his wagon. One of the
fore-wheels passed over his neck, and as the wagon was loaded with some
two tons of firewood, it might be supposed he was killed on the spot. He
was not only alive, but had the presence of mind to roll out of the way
of the hind wheel. In answer to anxious inquiries, he said he was not
much hurt, except by some small stones which had been forced into his
skin, and which he asked a gentleman to remove. In Africa we often saw
instances of endurance, which would make us exclaim with Buffon, that
civilised man does not know his own powers.

Judged by a European standard, these natives would not be commended for
_cleanliness_. Their habit of smearing the body with oil or grease,
is very repugnant. When a boy was cooking our dinner, he delighted to
put his fingers into the fat and smear his whole body. “Kafirs,” says
Mr. Wood, “are charming savages, but it is always as well to keep to
the windward of them, at all events, until the nostrils have become
accustomed to their odour.” Judged by an African standard, this habit
would be highly approved; for a European when obliged to dress like a
native, feels the necessity for his grease!

As they lie about on the ground their bodies and scanty dresses become
very dirty. In some districts they bathe a great deal. Our pupils at
Zomba availed themselves of the beautiful stream daily. Bathing in the
morning is avoided; the streams are then cold, especially on the hills.
But when a traveller rests by a brook at mid-day his native companions
generally bathe.

Passing now to the MORAL side of their character I shall first point to
their great want of _truthfulness_. “Telling lies” is much practised
and is seldom considered a fault. The way in which it comes before
the European is like this. He enters the country with half-a-dozen
bath-towels expecting them to last for a long time. In a few weeks the
majority of them have disappeared. He then begins to open his eyes, and
in a short time he sees his “boy” making off with the last of them.
I have been much amused at the earnestness with which the new-comer
will exclaim: “I actually saw him take it and found it in his hands,
and yet he denied”! In such cases the denial of the native is made
all the stronger. What is wanting in probability must be supplied by
boldness. The negro often thinks that he is flattered by being accused of
falsehood. So, when natives wish to pay a high compliment to a European
who has told them an interesting story, they look into his face and say
“O father, you are a great liar!”

_Avarice_ is strong in these people, and prompts to much cheating. A
native comes to the Mission store to sell eggs. When asked if they are
fresh, as a matter of course he says they are. The storekeeper after
trying them in water declines to buy, and the native calmly retires. He
has been outwitted on this occasion and that is all, he hopes to play
a better game next. He carries his eggs home, and carefully lays them
past. A few weeks after, learning that this storekeeper is absent, he
forthwith takes his eggs, hastens to the new storekeeper, declares that
they are fresh, and succeeds in selling! In making a bargain the native
has but one principle, he tries to get as much as he can. As avarice
and selfishness are often too strong for the civilised man, we must not
expect too much from the savage. Still, the natives have many motives
against a wretched greed. The teaching at their Mysteries condemns the
wretch who “concentres all on self”. Again, the members of a community
have their meals in common, and when a stranger arrives at a village
he is treated with the greatest hospitality. One night I came upon a
village at the side of a wood, just as its two male inhabitants were
beginning their evening meal. I was accompanied by twelve boys, two of
whom were close by me, and at once received an invitation to supper. I
expected that the men would be much puzzled when they found out the real
number of their guests. But no. As soon as the other ten boys came out of
the wood, they invited them likewise, gladly giving up their own meal to
my party. Knowing that the hungry men would have to wait till more food
could be cooked, I could not but admire their strict adherence to native
custom under such difficulty. It would have demoralised them to offer
payment, but I quietly sought an opportunity of meeting their daughters
and presenting them with a quantity of beads. Still, it may be doubted
whether the natives on the whole are more generous than Europeans. Their
insecurity makes them lazy, their laziness makes them poor, they have
little to give, and expect a large return for a small present. In our
first contact with the Portuguese after emerging from the atmosphere of
the native kings, we were received with great hospitality, and, having
been so long used to the natives, I became concerned about repaying the
kindness, when one of our party said, “Why, you are among Christians now,
don’t think you are dealing with some old chief who gives for the purpose
of getting”.

Any _novelty_ has a great attraction, though the emotion of fear
sometimes overpowers that of wonder. A white man, sitting quietly after
his day’s march with a crowd of people round him, proceeds to light
his candle. In a few moments there is a terrible stampede. Shrieks of
terror drown the laughter of the traveller’s native retinue. What can
it mean? Why, he has struck a match! As soon, however, as the first
scare is over, the crowd increases and comes nearer. When satisfied
that there is no danger, the old men ask to see more of the wonderful
little fire-stick; and by and by, all admire it so much that if the
traveller were to listen to their entreaties, he would sit lighting
matches all night. When the Missionaries first came into the country,
the revolver produced a profound impression; it was looked upon as a
supernatural weapon, the idea being that its possessor could fire without
ever requiring to reload. Certain powerful chiefs near Nyassa, on being
shown some revolver practice, at once put their hands to their throats
and said to the Missionaries, “You are the kings of this country”. Such
an impression as this, gives the Missionary a breathing time till the
natives become acquainted with him. If they thought him quite defenceless
many would kill him at once, especially if he had any goods. But apart
from revolvers, the very appearance of a white man at first inspires
the native with fear. Nor is this strange, for if a black man had shown
himself in any quiet English hamlet before its inhabitants knew that
negroes existed, there would have been a terrible scare. So, when a white
man appears in an African village, natives that are unfamiliar with such
specimens of humanity take to their heels! But gradually their fears
subside, and they come to look at the man. They examine his long hair,
his hat, his umbrella, his boots and his stockings, and when he goes away
they follow him, and he can see that they will soon become his friends.
The children are particularly drawn to the stranger: while those who rank
highest as sorcerers are most influenced by superstitious fear.

The emotions of _tenderness_ and _sympathy_ are strong among some, while
others are as callous as can be conceived. But few of them would say with
Hobbes, that “pity is a weakness, and that the best men have least of
it,” for on one occasion, where a mourner produced a copious supply of
tears by taking snuff, the others administered a grave rebuke, telling
him that, “his was no true sorrow”. Usually their grief for their friends
is intense. In this respect (as throughout the whole emotional side of
their nature), they resemble children. They are easily impressed, but
they do not keep grief longer than grief keeps them.

The _humorous_ side of a subject has great attractions for the natives.
In cases where there is any disposition to quarrel, one joke is
worth ten arguments. They are always polite enough to laugh at the
Englishman’s jokes, especially if he speak with a half serious air. In
any discussion, it is the humorous side that they most appreciate. In the
course of a conversation with Kapeni and his people, about the custom
of killing slaves to accompany the dead, after trying the arguments
that most readily suggest themselves, I pointed out that the slaves
were big powerful men, while the deceased was very weak, and that if a
quarrel took place beyond the grave, the deceased would have no chance
against them. They laughed immoderately at this, and when reporting the
discussion to their friends, they dwelt chiefly on the idea that slaves
would be as good as their master “on the other side of the grave,” and
might avenge their death. In conversation with each other they have a
great capacity for presenting the laughable side of events. It often
happens that a stranger regards the natives as beings to be patronised
and amused by; so much does he consider himself superior to them. Now as
might almost be expected, they view the new-comer in the very same light!
Most of them humour him and allow him to treat them as children, but all
the same, they amuse themselves at his expense after he is gone, and,
indeed, while he is present, if they know that he cannot understand their
speech. They are careful not to laugh if there be any danger of giving
offence. Once at the close of an open air meeting, an Englishman happened
to get up on the trunk of a large tree, which one often sees used for a
seat in the native villages. The log revolved, and the man fell heavily
on the ground. Yet the whole meeting looked as grave as if the accident
had been part of the programme.

Their _anger_ though sometimes violent, soon exhausts itself: but where
the passion cannot be readily gratified, it may settle into a lasting
enmity. Many people, especially headmen, will not visit a village two
miles distant on any account; rather than pass through it, they will
fetch a wide circuit, and that although their children and dependents
visit the place quite freely. The negroes are very cruel, and sometimes
take a positive delight in inflicting the greatest tortures they can
devise. They reserve much of this for enemies from whom they would expect
the same treatment themselves.

Of their INTELLECTUAL powers I venture to speak very highly. I knew a
number of boys that came to school at the ages of from twelve to fifteen,
without knowing a single letter, and in six weeks, they could, after
a little consideration, read any word in their language. This they
accomplished without any unnatural cramming. There were many school
children whose progress I watched with great interest, and who, I am
certain, if they had enjoyed the usual training, could have taken no mean
place among the Cambridge Wranglers.

The natives possess great powers of _argument_. Though some are swayed
by feeling and admit irrelevant matter, others stick well to their
subject, and soon pull up a debater that changes his ground. In public
speeches they use a style more elaborate than in ordinary conversation.
Many English speeches are so different from ordinary talk, that to one
who only knows English conversationally, they seem to be in another
language. So native speeches may be greatly polished, and lose much of
the bluntness of conversation. Public speaking is much practised, as an
important meeting may last for days. Many of the speakers have a tone of
quietness and self-possession that any orator might envy; others believe
in loud words and bold gestures. An excited native orator presents an
appearance never to be forgotten. I have one before my mind just now. He
stands near an ant-hill, and at the close of each stirring sentence, he
makes a wild rush to the top. “Are we all to be killed,” he cries, “by
Chekakamila?” Having said this, he runs up the hillock. Coming back he
confronts his audience and resumes at the pitch of his voice, “Is he to
come and catch our wives and children? We’ll go and kill him! We’ll go
and eat him!” The orator again runs up the ant-hill. He continues in the
same strain till his hearers also begin to rush about and brandish their
weapons in frantic excitement.

Natives have the bump of _locality_. I once lost my way when about nine
miles distant from any dwelling. I was accompanied by a little boy, who
followed wherever I led. After wandering for some time, I sat down in
despair, unable to tell the direction I wanted. I asked the boy whether
he knew the way, and to my great surprise he said he did. Advancing to a
small knoll, the little fellow caught a glimpse of a distant mountain.
He looked at it carefully for a few moments, and then marched off with
confidence. For more than an hour I followed in great anxiety, fearing
that he might be in the wrong direction. But whenever we escaped from the
denser parts of the jungle, he stopped to gaze intently at some hill.
This gave me confidence, and when at last I found myself on a native
path, I could not sufficiently admire my youthful guide.

We often hear the expression “I don’t believe in a nigger”. It is common
to assert that negroes have no redeeming quality. But much of this severe
criticism springs from prejudice. The African is physically superior
to most of the Indians that we see along the Mozambique coast, and I
am materialist enough to hazard the opinion that this superiority will
“mean something” in the long run. As it is, these Africans are not
mere animals composed of greed and selfishness. They often shew great
bravery and devotedness. I can point to one man who saved my life on
three separate occasions at the risk of his own. Every one that tries
to understand these negroes, will acknowledge that the better natives
have in their breasts all the qualities that constitute the hero, and
only want favourable circumstances for their development. But this is a
great want. No doubt there are in Africa, natural differences both among
individuals and among tribes. Mr. Rowley says, “Compare an ordinary Yao
with an ordinary Anyasa, and the former is at once seen to be physically
superior”. “A phrenologist would say, that firmness and self-esteem
predominated, but that caution which prevails to a deformity among the
Anyasa was barely evidenced.” The difference between the Yao of the
hills, and the Anyasa of the plains is so very great, that I could
generally tell a man’s tribe by his appearance. But admitting natural
differences to the fullest extent, we cannot ignore the effect produced
on the natives by their circumstances and customs. The institution of
slavery is demoralising in the extreme. The master is a cruel tyrant,
the slave is a thief, a liar, and a miserable coward. The government of
the country has also a deplorable influence. Where it is weak, it gives
the people no protection, where it is strong, it preys upon them. There
is nothing to keep the headman of a village from robbing his people,
and many a bitter complaint have I heard on the subject. Speke has some
instructive observations on the African. “He works his wife, sells his
children, enslaves all he can lay hands on, and, unless when fighting
for the property of others, contents himself with drinking, singing, and
dancing. They store up nothing beyond the necessities of next season,
lest their chiefs or neighbours should covet and take it from them.” He
adds, “If some government could be formed for them, like ours in India,
they would be saved, but without it, I fear there is little chance. For
at present the African can neither help himself, nor be helped by others,
because his country is in such a constant state of turmoil.” Owing to the
unsettled state of their land, they are victims of fear. The men never
go unarmed, the women and children never venture far from home without
a guard. A great proportion of their villages are built far up the
mountains, for security against their neighbours. Hobbes says that men
are naturally distrustful of their fellows—witness the barring of doors
at night. Such distrust is greater here, and well it may. It is not that
they fear for their property; that is too small to deserve anxiety! They
fear for dear life—though they lie down quietly at night, they may awake
to receive a mortal wound, and see their wives and children carried into
slavery. One in this country finds a meaning in prayers for protection,
that he does not realise in a civilised land. These circumstances of the
native develop also a peculiar kind of patience and servility. He looks
on injustice and hard treatment as something to be expected at every step.

Superstition also has a dismal influence. Throughout his whole life the
native is haunted by the dread of being bewitched. As he grows older
the shadows become darker—he has now escaped “the evil eye” so long,
that he is judged guilty of witchcraft himself, and the few last days
of his life are made unspeakably bitter. What a dreadful cry comes from
the old men or women that are convicted by the witch-detective! Forsaken
by friends, disowned by relatives; and detested by the whole community,
they appeal with confidence to the poison. Oh! how must the iron fetters
of superstition crush the very soul, when the victim finds recovery
hopeless, and knows that in a few hours his dishonoured body will be
cast forth to the vultures, and that his name will go down to posterity
covered with infamy.

[Illustration: MUSICAL INSTRUMENT (WITH IRON KEYS).]

The _musical tastes_ of the natives may here be alluded to. Many villages
have in the forum a large piano with wooden keys, while men often carry
a smaller instrument with iron keys. The native musical scale is not
the same as ours, and although there is a certain method about the
instruments, it is rare to find two of them tuned exactly the same way.

Other traits of native character will appear when we describe our life
among them.

As a Missionary with the Bible in his hand looks on the natives, he
seriously ponders how the truth can, humanly speaking, be most readily
commended to them. His first aim must be to reach their intellects.
They stand before him as a people that are entirely unbelievers, and
who cannot be blamed for being so. How shall they believe without a
preacher? It is well when they state plainly that they disbelieve and
point out their reasons, but alas! they often assent to everything from
mere politeness. Still, they are well able to appreciate the narrative
parts of the Scriptures. Persons fond of doctrine in its purest form
think that the tales of Joseph and his brethren, of Saul and David, are
so much packing in the sacred volume, but on coming into contact with
the strong unsophisticated intellect of the savage, one becomes alive
to the sublimity and power of this part of Scripture. These natives
readily understand the Old Testament; familiar as they are with a state
of civilisation, where a “younger brother” may be sold like Joseph, where
a chief (like Saul) hunts a rival among mountains and caves, and where a
headman thinks nothing of dividing a child to settle a dispute. A person
in Britain thinks it almost incredible that a king could break promises
like Pharoah; but to the subjects of an African chief, the narrative of
this is the merest commonplace, while they feel that such falsehood in
the prince would rather call forth the applause of his people so long as
it seemed to be in their interest. Our pupils had often to write about
these Scripture subjects in their own words. When they wrote on English
affairs their remarks were extremely ludicrous; but by reading their
Bible themes I have benefited as much as by studying a commentary. Again,
they can understand and appreciate _parables_. They are all familiar with
this species of literature, since many of their own tales have double
meanings. The natives of course hold no theory of the universe that
excludes _miracles_. In their own tales they have the miraculous and look
for some teaching in connection with it, a habit which they may be taught
to carry with them in using the Scripture records. In my first effort at
translating Jonah, my little tutor thought there was some mistake and
changed my proposed version. He felt it would be more natural for Jonah
to “swallow the fish”. But it was a “great fish!” Still the same answer
came. “No, a very great fish like a crocodile.” The dark countenance
turned fully round upon me, and the sharp eyes regarded me with a strange
quiet stare. He approved of my original rendering, and wondered what I
would venture on next. Perhaps he thought I was “far gone” or perhaps I
had come near something he had heard before. They have themselves a story
of a man that was caught by a crocodile and effected his escape while
laid past till the crocodile should be hungry. Their literature also
contains some stories regarding the division of the waters of a river or
lake, while one tale would pass for an account of Jethro’s interview with
Moses.

The Africans have a liking for ontological speculation. Being ill one
day, I asked one of our best students to speak to the people, when,
to my utter disappointment, he dashed into an explanation of “three
persons in one God”; but what surprised me most of all was that the
people listened to him with the greatest attention. I felt that there was
here the working, of a mode of thought that the Western mind has seldom
sympathised with. The discussion seemed to have such a practical interest
to them that I could not but think of the butchers of Alexandria, who,
during the early Church controversy, when asked the price of mutton,
would make some remark about Trinity in Unity. Little did the lecturer
know what an amount of thought had been bestowed on this subject, and yet
he showed he had been thinking himself, for every statement he made had
evidently passed through the crucible of his own mind.

Our older pupils formed the habit of asking me about everything in
the Bible that they did not understand, and I have watched them with
breathless interest as they read passages bearing on “Free-Will”. But
they were never “pulled up” by this subject, although I fancied that one
boy came very near the difficulty. They would doubtless hold that God
could foresee, much as a wise man can. It was a subject where to them
“ignorance was bliss,” and I could not be so cruel as to suggest the
difficulties that encompass this antinomy (as Kant calls it). Still, it
might not have been such a puzzle to these young lads, as they had not
lived in a country where will is evoked in a struggle with the elements.
Again, where the vast majority are entirely at the disposal of guardians
or slave-masters, a species of resigned fatalism is apt to be developed.
Once when translating the sermon on the mount, “Be not anxious for
to-morrow; sufficient for the day is the evil thereof,” I was admonished,
“Don’t tell them that; their sin lies the opposite way. They never think
of to-morrow at all!” Such is the fact, these creatures of God have
little or no anxiety. Like the bird of the air and the beast of the
forest, they “believe and live”.


END OF VOL. I.




APPENDIX.

NATIVE TALES LITERALLY TRANSLATED.




APPENDIX.


1. PEOPLE.

People came from _kapilimtiya_ [an unsteady (soft) stone][16]. There
came forth two, a man and a woman, and they married and had children.
Then there was seen another man who was sick, being a leper, who had
come from _kapilimtiya_. The sick man sent the woman to draw water, then
he opened a bag and took out maize and millet. On this earth there was
no grass,[17] and he said, “You two may sleep in a cave”. The sick man
died, and the other man put an offering on the ground[18] saying, “You
have left us here, now give us grass”. So grass grew and trees; and his
children grew and had children; hence the tribe of the Yao.


2. THE SUN.

It came to pass that two men went to the hunting-field and arrived at a
cave. One said, “Here is heat!” The other said, “Is this fire?” He said,
“I don’t know, come and help me to search”. They began to search in the
cave. One peered and saw the sun[19] in the cave. Then he said, “Look!
look!” his companion said, “Come, let us run away”. The other said, “I
will look,” and he went into the cave and put away a stone, then the sun
burned him and he died. His companion said, “Please, please, don’t burn
me” (by this time the grass was on fire). The stone being thus removed,
the sun went on high.


3. THE MOON.

Out here there lived Machelenga, and he said, “I want a firefly to make
a lamp of”. A great man said, “Come, I’ll shew you a good fire”. And he
said, “It is a good fire this”—it was just the moon. Then he took the
moon and put it in a pot. And he said, “My children, don’t take off the
cover of this, it contains my fire. I go to the garden.”[20] So he went
to the garden. The children then went to fetch the fire, then there was
light with a brightness! And he said, “My fire has come out, they have
brought it out of the pot”: and he said to them, “My children, where is
the fire?” And they said, “We—no”.[21] And he said, “Don’t meddle with
the place where I have put my fire”. And they said, “We understand”.
Another day he said, “Good-bye,[22] let me go down to the garden,” and
he staid for the night at the garden.[23] One of the children then took
the moon, which burned him, and flew away to settle right on the top of
the hill.[24] The father awoke and looked out and said, “Outside there
is light,” and he ran and said, “But now, see! is not my fire gone? Seek
ladders, take it thence.” So they climbed the mountain; though they tried
thus to go to fetch it they failed. The child fell down a precipice. The
father next tried to climb, then the moon flew, going up to the clouds,
and he said, “Now it is gone, it is settled in the clouds. Now my
enemies will see quite well, because you have taken out my fire.”

His wife said, “Your moon has killed my child for me; I do not want to
see the moon”. She went to another country, she looked on high and the
moon was still there, and she was weary and said, “Dig a pit for me,” and
they dug a pit. Then the woman went in and the man covered it over. The
woman died in the pit.

Yonder moon was the fire of Machelenga.[25]


4. STARS.

It came to pass that the children of Mkwilima[25] said, “We will go
to play,” and they arrived at the sands, and found many stones, and
they threw them at each other. Their father said, “My children, do not
strike each other, stones will pain you”. Then a stone was thrown, and
one child was struck on the head and fell; and the stone ran away and
leapt forth and became fixed on high. People looked, and behold! the
stone was visible, and Mkwilima said, “My children, there I told you,
behold the stone that killed your companion, behold! now it is on high”.
When the rain fell particles of it kept floating filling the heavens
everywhere.[26]


5. [27]CLOUDS.

Mwangalika sent his son, and said, “In this country there is sun now.
Please, please go and burn with fire.” Then the fire smoked, and
Mwangalika said, “Now I want the smoke to be clouds, that my children may
stay in the shade;” then it went on high.


6. [27]WIND.

A great man had a daughter, and she said, “Father, in this country I am
hot, I sweat”.

Then her father said, “Come here, my child, I have pity, I will blow with
my breath,” so he blew, and thence came wind.


7. RAIN OR LIGHTNING.

The lightning (rain, ula)[28] flashed and killed a man, then it ran on
high, and they said, “Please, please, rain but you have killed people”.
The rain said, “Now I am sorry, I have done wrong, but I want to send
water that you may _drink at the mourning_”, and the people said, “Yes,
let us consent”. The water of the rain then descended.


8. THE BOW OF THE LIGHTNING.

The bow of the lightning came from on high and struck a hill, then came
Mtanga, and said, “My bow for killing meat”. The chief at that land said,
“Let us see you killing”. He picked up an arrow, threw on high and killed
four stars, and said, “I have killed this meat, let me give you to eat”.
He said, “Give me that I may look at it”. He received it and looked, and
there was just a flash-flashing. He said, “The meat of my shooting you
cannot eat. That comes from on high. But watch what I shall do in the
eating of it.” He boiled water, and filled a great pot, and picked up the
stars and put them in the pot and stirred them, and then they actually
found cooked flesh. He said, “Taste it now”: when he ate it he found it
sweet like honey.

He said, “Lend me, friend, the bow that I may shoot”; but he was killed
by his shooting. Mtanga (12) then said, “My bow is dreadful”. When Mtanga
went away, it was not seen where he went, and he put up his bow on high.


9. MOUNTAINS AND RIVERS.

Mtanga came to the Yao country, and he said, “This country is bad because
it is without a hill”. The inhabitants said, “What will you do?” and he
said, “I will press out mountains”. They said, “How will you press them
out?” He said, “I will press them out at night”. They said, “Come, let
us sleep in the houses”. At night then passed Mtanga, and came to make a
mountain spring forth. Then he took away his leg when he had pressed out
one mountain, and went and pressed out another.

In the morning when people arose, they found that mountains were standing
forth (in one place a mountain sprung up, in another place a mountain
sprung up). He said, “When you thought of me, you supposed I told a lie.
I am from ‘God,’[29] Chitowe sent me. This country I have now made right.”

He then said, “I will now press forth water, let us dig a river,” then he
brought down rain, and the water flowed in the river.

In the beginning[30] this country was all a plain, and Mtanga put it
right: there was no water and he pressed it forth.


10. COOKING POTS AND MORTARS.

Long ago ‘God’ said, “My children, I gave you food”. He gave them also a
piece of iron[31] ore. Then he said, “Draw water, boil it on the fire”.
Then he said, “This is a cooking pot”. The iron ore was lost, and ‘God’
sent Namawelenga, and he said, “Now I want to dig clay,” and they
manufactured cooking-pots.

People used to roast (their corn), and there came a woman and she brought
a short piece of wood. She said, “I am hungry, I want porridge”. They
refused at the village, saying, “At our home, no; there is no porridge”.
She said, “There is maize”. They said, “We have much maize”. Then she
brought out her small reed and said, “Give me maize”; and she put it
in her (piece of) wood and set to pounding. When she pounded she said,
“Well, this is called a mortar, now pound and eat”.


11. HOES, KNIVES AND AXES.

People hoed with wood[32] and there came a certain man who said, “I have
pity, let me give you things-to-hoe-with”. They said, “Give us”. He said,
“Bring fire,” and they brought fire, and he took iron ore and put on the
fire. They collected much fire, and pieces of ore were melted, and they
took a stone and beat it, and it was smelted to make a hoe.

Knives and axes came together. People said, “We sleep outside,” and there
came a man and gave them; he said, “With this axe cut trees, take the
knife, dig down, use it as a pick, and put in your posts”.[33]


12. BASKETS.

He said, “Where do you put your food?” They said, “We put it on the
ground,” and he said, “But seek for the _mneche_,” (a soft tree), and
they sought for it and prepared it (there were no bamboos then). He said,
“Take now your maize, put it in the baskets”. When they found bamboos
then they plaited them: then were made things for holding their goods.


13. CLOTHING.

There were some that did not wear clothes, and a certain man came and
stript off bark, and the males wore it. Then he produced a hammer from
his bag, and said, “Cut down a _mjombo_ tree,” and he stript it. Then he
set to hammering, and beat out the juice, and put the bark in the sun
to dry. Then he took it and said, “Try to put it on,” and the females
clothed themselves. Bark-cloth then abounded in this land.


14. DEATH.

This country was one where people did not die, and there came a woman
that could not walk. People lived without sleep, and the woman said
“sleep,” and two persons slept, then she caught one by the nostrils, and
the other continued to breathe, and she said, “Arise,” the one arose and
the other died. She said, “I am sorry, I have done wrong, I caught one by
the nostrils, he can not breathe, now mourn” (for him). Then the people
mourned, and continued three days. Afterwards they said, “Carry him away,
dig a grave and bury him,” and they buried him.

People then discovered sleep; death and sleep are one word; they are of
one family.

The woman that could not walk wrought mischief.


15. MORTALITY,[34] THE CHAMELEON (NALWII) AND THE SALAMANDER (MLALU).

The chameleon was sent to the graves to say, “When people die they may
return” (to their homes). He went off and was passing along the road.
Afterwards the salamander was called to go to the graves, and say, “When
people die they must not return”. The salamander ran and arrived quickly
(while the chameleon was still on the way), and said, “When people die
they must not return”. Next morning the chameleon appeared. He said,
“When people die, they may return”. Those at the grave said, “No, the
salamander came and he told us the truth”. Then he (the chameleon) went
back to report at the village (from which he was sent), and said, “The
salamander was first. He gave the order, ‘When people die they must not
return’.” Those at the village said, “How silly! You were stupid, O
chameleon, you should have made haste.”


16. OFFERINGS.

A person hoed his field (lit. food), and there came a blind man and said,
“You do not eat your corn, what prevents you?” He said, “The corn is
without an offering”.[35] The blind man said, “I can give the offering”.
Then he put his arm in his bag, and took out of it flour, and the man
that hoed said, “Do it yourself, give an offering that you may see with
your eyes”. The blind man said, “Please, please, I want to see, help me,
O mother!” Then his blindness went away and he saw. Then the man that
hoed the garden said, “Now you are able to see”. Then the farmer plucked
five maize cobs, and said, “Please, please, a blind man told me about
the offering, I now want that my maize may be abundant”. So the Yao when
their child dies say, “Please, please, I give this offering for you which
a blind man gave us”; the sick then have health. In this way the Yao
continue (to exist).


17. BOWS AND GUNS.

There was a man with three children, one was mad, and he bit, and his
father caught him and put him in a slave-stick. Then he said, “Father, I
want you to cut wood for me,” and he cut the wood. And he said, “Father,
now I want a nail” (the iron pin of the slave-stick), and he brought a
nail and gave him. In the same way he brought strips of bark, and he (the
son) bent the wood with the cords. His father loosed him and he ran to
the bush and returned at night and pierced his mother with the nail.
She said, “My husband, my son whom you loosed has pierced me—pierced me
with a bow” (something bent). These people then sought bows, and carried
pieces of iron, and sought that madman; but he died in the bush. The
people remained with the bow.

Here there were no guns, then came the people of Misiri[36] and gave to a
man (who lived) long ago. The gun came with the people of Misiri.


18. CANNIBALISM.

There was a certain man, Malyawandu,[37] and an appetite for meat came
(to him), and his wife cooked porridge with vegetables for a relish. He
said, “No, I don’t want to eat vegetables”. So she killed a fowl for him,
but he refused and said, “Look for a knife for me,” and he cut himself on
the leg and roasted for himself on the fire. And she said, “My husband
eating this meat alone!”[38] He said, “Delicious meat”. The man then
died of that wound. And the woman said, “I will look at the flesh of my
husband, I will eat it”.

Her children said, “Mother eating father!” and she said, “Come! taste”.
One child received it and ate, and said, “Give me more”. It told its
friends that human flesh was delicious. Then they began to kill each
other.

At present they say, “We must not eat people”. Those that eat people are
cannibals (§ 106, 107).


19. MEDICINE.

A certain man was sick; he said, “I shall dig up moles”. Then he found
a root which was in a hole, he struck it with the hoe, and took it away
from the tree and placed it so.[39] Then he killed two moles, and another
mole ran away. Then the sick man sat down there to look, and it returned
and carried the root and chewed it and spat on the other moles that were
dead and they got life. The sick man then said, “Is this medicine? Those
dead moles have risen again.” The mole said, “This is medicine, do you
take it when you are sick, chew it that you may have health”. Then he
went away to the village and chewed it and had health. Then others said,
“Give your friends that they may have health”. Then medicine abounded in
this land.


20. FLEAS.

People died and went to the graves and became ‘Itowe,’ and ‘God’ came and
said, “You Itowe come all here,” and they came all round. Then he gave
them little bags, and said, “You go abroad with these and give people”.
They all received them. Some had a bag of fleas, and others of seeds,
&c., &c. When they came abroad here then people refused the bag of fleas,
but wanted the bag of seeds. So they gave the seeds and returned, but on
the way they opened the other bags and threw the fleas away.


21. FISHES.

There was a woman, and she took bark-cloth and tore off a long strip
and put on as a loin-cloth, and said, “Now let us go to the stream and
bathe”. (In the waters there were no fishes.) The woman had untied her
loin-cloth, and she said, “Give me my loin-cloth to wash”. As she was
washing it the water took the loin-cloth from her, and she said, “My
companions, my loin-cloth is lost”. Her companions said, “Sit down, let
us go to seek it, that you may wear your clothes”. The woman then sat at
the water naked; then she saw it coming, it having become a fish. And she
said, “I have seen wonderful things; I saw my loin-cloth like an animal”.
Then they took it, and saw that it was a fish, and they took a knife and
opened it at the breast. Then they found inside the eggs of fish (nat.
idiom), and threw them into the water, and they brought forth many fishes.


22. BIRDS.

There was a man that had two children, and they said, “We want a bow”.
Their father made them a bow. And he said, “Don’t go throwing at each
other”. One stood like this, and took a grass wand, threw it at his
companion, and struck him in the eyes, and he died. His father then ran,
“My son, you have killed your brother”; and he took the grass, and it
said, “Your son threw me; I have killed a man. Now I don’t want to stay
here below,” and it flew and lighted on a tree, and became a bird. And
this is the origin of birds.


23. ELEPHANTS.

The elephants lived along with men, and the children took them out to
eat grass in the plain. Then an elephant killed one child, and another
ran saying, “Father, father, an elephant has killed my companion”. His
father said, “Well, I want to go and kill it”. And he carried his bow
and arrows and went to shoot it, and he shot it, and it died. The others
then ran away, saying, “We have done wrong; now our master is killing
us”. So they ran away to the bush, and people kept encountering them and
shooting them, saying, “You killed a person at the village”. Hence there
was enmity against them.


24. LIONS.

The lion was a cat dwelling with people. Then it sprung to catch a fowl
The next day it sprang to scratch the baby. Then its master said, “I will
kill you,” so it ran away to the bush. Whereupon it was at enmity with
people.


25. THE SERPENT.

There was a man that hoed a garden and planted cassava, and took
bark-cloth and twisted, and took thorns and put through this bark-cloth,
and said, “Bark-cloth, I place you in my garden; bite those that come to
steal”. So he went to hang the bark-cloth[40] in his garden. Then came a
thief and took hold of a cassava plant, and the thorns pierced him, and
that lad said, “War”. It said, “My master left me in the garden, saying,
‘If people steal cassava, bite them’.” The person died. Then came the man
and said, “Bark-cloth, you have bitten a lad; you have a bad heart”. Then
it went away in the bush, and when it saw people it bit them. Hence came
the serpent.


26. BABOONS.[41]

A woman bare three children, but the children stole from the owner of the
country, and he killed two. Then the woman ran away, and the other child
went away. Her friends said, “Cut your hair”.[42] She said, “No, the
chief killed my children”. And she said on seeing the maize of others,
“That maize is ours”. On her running away hair grew on all her body. That
fur of the baboons was the hair of the head, those legs were arms.


27. OTHER ACCOUNTS.

Some tell one way, others another way—telling and telling.

_Heavenly Bodies._—‘God’ made the stars and the moon and the sun
likewise. All things in this world were made by ‘God’. The sun gave way
to fierceness, and said, “Let me shine and destroy people”. God refused,
and took rain and cooled down the sun.

_Wind._—‘God’ placed a spinning-top on the summit of a mountain, hence
the wind.

_Rain._—People who died became ‘God,’ and they said, “Come, let us give
our children rain”. Others refused, and said, “Come, let us make pots and
fill them with water”. And they said, “Come, let us break another pot;
let us give our children rain”.[43]

_Animals._—At first the lion was a man; a man died and became a lion. So
of the elephant.


28. ANOTHER ACCOUNT OF MAN.

At first there were not people but ‘God’ and beasts. There was a
Chameleon, and he wove his fish-trap; when he had woven it, he went to
snare in the river. The day after he went to take it out, and he found
fishes therein. He took his fishes to the village to eat them. Again in
the morning he went early and found that otters had entered the trap and
eaten the fishes, and he said: “To-day I have bad luck. I just found that
the otters had eaten my fishes. I do not know whether to-morrow I shall
find they have eaten them again.” Then he departed to the village, empty,
without fishes, and he went to sleep. When it was dawn, he went early
again, and found man, male and female, entered into the trap.

He said, “To-day have entered things that are unknown. I wonder whether I
should take them.” Mlungu (‘God’) was staying down here, before he went
away to heaven. And he said, “Father, behold what I have brought to-day”.
And He (‘God’) said, “Place them there, they will grow”. Man then grew,
both male and female. But his father said, “Gather the people together,
and call your master”. ‘God’ was called, and he came and said, “Now,
Chameleon, where have you brought these from?” He said, “But they entered
my trap”. Then Mlungu said, “Wait till I call my people,” and he went
calling all the beasts of the earth and all the birds. They assembled.
When they came, their Master said, “We have called you for those curious
beings that the Chameleon went to bring in his trap”. All the beasts
said, “We have heard”. (They had not a word to say.)

“Now let us go to our home.” So the beasts all went to their homes. And
Mlungu said, “Now good-bye, let me go home”.

The day after they actually saw these people (the new creatures) making
fire[44] (by friction). When they made fire, they set it a blazing,
and found a buffalo and killed and roasted it on the fire, and it was
cooked. And they kept eating all the beasts in this way. Again Mlungu
came, saying, “Chameleon, I told you that you introduced puzzling beings
on the earth here. See now my people are finished. Now how shall I act?”
They actually saw the bush at their verandah burning with fire. Now the
Chameleon ran away, and Mlungu ran away. The Chameleon ran for a tree.
Mlungu was on the ground, and he said, “I cannot climb a tree”. Then
Mlungu set off and went to call the spider. The spider went on high and
returned again, and said, “I have gone on high nicely,” and he said, “you
now, Mlungu, go on high”. Mlungu then went with the spider on high. And
he said, “When they die, let them come on high here”.

(On this, the lightning when it came down destroyed a tree because the
Chameleon ran to a tree.)

And behold, men on dying go on high in order to be slaves of ‘God,’ the
reason being that they ate his people here below.[45]


29. NTEMBE, THE BROTHER OF THE “SPIRIT”.

Ntembe came to the mysteries; and people said, “A great one has come, let
us go to see him”. They found him sitting on a stone and he said, “Have
these people come”—(he spoke through his nose so). They said, “Yes, we
thought we should go and see the great Ntembe the owner of this land”.
He said, “You are welcome, I have come myself, I have come to teach the
mysteries”. Then came a serpent and he twisted it round his head, and
when people passed they were bitten and died. And people complained
saying, “The serpent will destroy us all”. ‘God’ came saying, “You have a
bad heart, you are killing (my) children”. He said, “Take them away and
dwell with them, I Ntembe am here”. ‘God’ then took the children and went
on high with them, and they were happy. Ntembe then became a mountain.[46]


30. THE THREE WOMEN.

There were three Women with their children, and they went to the water.
When they reached it, one of them was cheated by her companions who
said, “Throw your child into the water, we have thrown our children into
the water”. But they had hidden their children under a tree. So their
companion threw her child into the water, and a crocodile swallowed it
(but did not kill it). Then her companions began to laugh at her and
said, “You have thrown your child into the water! We were only cheating
you.” Then she wept and said, “Why did you cheat me?” Her companions went
to the village to tell her mother, and said, “Your daughter has thrown
her child into the water”. When her mother heard them she said, “Can it
be true!” Her companions said, “Yes”. So her mother wept in great sorrow.

But her daughter climbed a tree and said, “I want to go on high,” and
the tree grew much and reached upwards. She met many leopards and they
asked the girl and said, “Where are you going”? The girl said, “I want
my child; my companions cheated me and said, ‘Throw your child into the
water. We threw ours into the water.’” The leopards said, “Indeed!” and
they showed her the way, saying, “You will come to the Nsenzi who will
show you the way again”. So the girl went on and met the Nsenzi and they
asked, “Girl, where are you going”? The girl replied, “I want my child,
my companions cheated me saying, ‘Throw your child in the water’”. Then
the Nsenzi showed her the way and said, “Go, there you will meet the
Mazomba” (large fishes?). The Mazomba said, “What do you want, my girl”.
The girl said, “I want (to know) the way”. The Mazomba said, “Where to”?
The girl said, “The way to Mlungu (God)”. The Mazomba said, “Well, be
strong in your heart”. The girl said, “Yes, Masters, I understand”.

Then she came to the village of Mulungu and Mulungu asked the girl,
“What do you want”? The girl said, “Master! I want my child. My comrades
cheated me saying, ‘Throw your child into the water,’ I threw it in, and
a crocodile swallowed it”.

Then Mulungu called the crocodile and the crocodile came. Mulungu[47]
said, “Give up the child,” and it delivered it up. The girl received
the child and went down[48] to her mother. When her mother saw that her
daughter brought the child she was much delighted and gave her much cloth
and a good house.

When her companions saw that she had fetched her child they asked
her, “How did you fetch your child?” Their companion said, “I went to
Mulungu”. When her companions heard that she fetched it from Mulungu,
then they threw their children in the water, and also climbed the tree,
which grew quickly, quickly.

Then they met the Leopards. The Leopards asked, “Where are you going”?
But the girls were obstinate and said, “We don’t want you to question us.
No.” The Leopards left them, and they went on and met with the Nsenzi who
said, “Well, where are you going”? But the girls began to abuse them.
They went on and came to the Mazomba. The Mazomba said, “Well, where are
you going”? The girls said, “We don’t want you to ask us”.

Then they came to Mulungu. Mulungu said, “What do you want”? The girls
said, “We have thrown our children into the water.” But Mulungu said,
“What was the reason of that”? The girls hid (the matter) and said,
“Nothing”. But Mulungu said, “It is false. You cheated your companion,
saying, ‘Throw your child into the water,’ and now you tell me a lie.”

Then Mulungu took a bottle of lightning, and said, “Your children are in
here”. The girls took the bottle, and the bottle made a report like a
gun. The girls both (lit. all) died.




FOOTNOTES


[1] Since then the Church altered their decision, and practically found
that it was groundless.

[2] Livingstone says this is the most wholesome form in which they use
their corn owing to their rude cookery.

[3] Ch is the proper spelling, but sh has gained acceptance. The Arabs
cannot pronounce the ch; while the natives cannot pronounce the sh.

[4] Stanley calls the sorcerer “the gourd-and-pebble man”.

[5] Native idiom.

[6] This principle in human nature is fully recognised in philosophy.
Butler in his ‘Analogy of Religion’ speaks of it as the principle of
continuance, remarking “that we believe a thing remains as we left
it, except where we have any reason to think it is changed”. Dr. Bain
recognises the same belief in our postulate that “nature is uniform,”
although he holds that the tendency in question gets its great value from
“experience.”

Beyond this there is a tendency to find a place, as we have assumed
above, for anything that has passed beyond our ken. We saw this in the
case of a little child that was separated from youthful playmates. When
asked “Where’s Nyama?” at first he pointed in a definite direction. As
the journey proceeded he became quite at a loss, and shook his head over
the question in sadness. Much farther on it was asked whether Nyama was
not in yonder steamer, and the suggestion gave intense satisfaction, and
ever after instead of shewing despair over the question he would brighten
up and say, “She is in another steamer”.

[7] East African Tales, by Rev. Duff Macdonald. (Blackwood) Page 9.

[8] When mwai is not vomited it is fatal, and the symptoms that appear in
such cases, are said to resemble those of dysentery.

[9] It is characteristic of Native Law that it throws all responsibility
on Superiors. In illustration of this principle I may mention an
application of it that occurs very naturally to these natives, and which
they have urged upon me again and again. When I spoke to them of a day of
judgment they remarked, “On that day we shall plead that we are the white
man’s sons, and you, father, will not forsake your children”.

[10] Stanley in _How I Found Livingstone_, mentions that the natives in
Unyanyembe, on killing an enemy, eat “the skin of the forehead, the lower
part of the face, the forepart of the nose, the fat over the stomach and
abdomen, the genital organs, and a bit from each heel”. Hence we see that
African tribes, although living far apart, practice similar forms of
mutilation.

[11] These names happen to be real, but are used only as counters.

[12] The word for _people_ is among some of these tribes _antu_, among
others _wandu_, among others _abantu_, &c., hence has arisen the word
Bantu.

[13] These statements do not occur consecutively in the authors quoted.

[14] Tens five and tens four, to this comes five then four. The inflexion
of certain adjectives, and the negative inflexion of the verb, are also
felt cumbrous by a European.

[15] A certain kind of politeness comes natural to the African. Seldom
will he say anything to irritate a neighbour, knowing as he does, that in
a country where there is little law, a neighbour may kill him without any
scruple, and get absolution by paying over a few slaves.

[16] The Africans have a widespread tradition that man sprung in this
way from the earth. The world is viewed as a house with three stories.
The higher story, the region of the sky, is now occupied by Mulungu, and
the sun, moon, &c. We inhabit at present the second story, but we came
originally from “the first flat”. But all races did not come at the same
time. According to the Kafirs, the white man staid till he cast off the
skin of imperfection—much as a snake casts its skin. When a man dies, “he
is summoned by those that are beneath”. This might be explained by saying
that he joins the dead who are buried beneath, but Bishop Callaway thinks
that such expressions intimate an old faith, now no longer understood, in
a Hades or Tartarus.

[17] _i.e._, to make a house, grass being a main constituent of a native
hut.

[18] They postulate that some one died before man could find any being to
pray to. This is in accordance with their theology.

[19] Of course they think the sun is not bigger than a plate.

[20] Or “field” where he raised his food.

[21] A good specimen of native truth. The narrator assumes that the
children will lie, and that the father will take it as a matter of course.

[22] The native good-bye is managed thus: The person that goes away
from his friend says “Stay,” while his friend replies “Go”. In their
intercourse this is not always a mere form. If a party with goods have
rested at a village whose chief is powerful, and covets their goods, they
are much relieved when he says “Go!”

[23] There are little huts in the fields where people stay to drive away
such animals as would destroy the crops.

[24] In this simple nursery tale Perspective is ignored, but this will
be excused by one who has observed how strikingly the moon rising over a
hill resembles a distant grass-fire.

[25] His name implies that he was clever. The 3rd story reminds one of
the Indian widow who refuses to survive her husband.

[26] Here the sky is likened to a great lake, and the stars are the
“golden sands” of “Afric’s sunny fountains”.

[27] V. and VI. seem pointless, except that the etymology and the form of
the native words are made to support the simple theories.

[28] Rain, lightning and thunder seem to be almost inseparably associated
in the minds of the native. If a peal of thunder is heard, when we ask
what it is, the reply is “rain”.

[29] Chitowe is generally represented as inferior in power to Mtanga.
This passage would lead us, therefore, to understand that Chitowe called
in Mtanga because he could not put the country right himself. The Yao as
they contrast their hilly district with the flat burning plains around
may well thank Mtanga.

[30] Native philosophers accept the existence of the world as an ultimate
fact.

[31] Does this point to the use of ‘the pot-stone’? The native values his
present methods as an advance on something more primitive.

[32] Compare the hoeing of the Hottentots.

[33] _i.e._, to form the sides of the native hut.

[34] This tale exists among both the Kafirs and the Hottentots, and is
one of the most noteworthy.

[35] The offering of ‘first fruits’ had not been presented.

[36] Described as staying in the north. The word also means craftsman.
Most of these names are mere adaptations for the story.

[37] _i.e._, Man-eater.

[38] A breach of etiquette. (67.)

[39] The narrative shews how.

[40] They have a custom of putting charms round their crops this way (see
K).

[41] All the African races seem to have similar stories about the origin
of monkeys.

[42] She would be expected to make herself bald in mourning for her two
sons.

[43] Compare the ancient expression, “Who can stay the bottles of
heaven.”—Job xxxvii. 38.

[44] Man is the only animal that can make fire. It is common to set fire
to the bush with the view of catching game.

[45] Mulungu is here said to have lived once on the earth, and to have
left it because of men. The Chameleon is introduced here as well as in
tale No. xv.

[46] Such metamorphoses are very common in native tales.

[47] The narrator pronounces sometimes Mlungu, sometimes Mulungu.

[48] Here as in xxviii. and xxix. ‘God’ is on high. He is reached after
a journey through a trilogy of Beasts, Birds, and Fishes. Compare with
this, one native view that the sky is a great lake.



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76362 ***