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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76363 ***





AFRICANA.

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




                                 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. II.—MISSION LIFE.

    “Your vain conversation delivered by tradition from your fathers.”

                      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.




CONTENTS OF VOL. II.


                                                                      PAGE

       CHAPTER I.—EARLIER ATTEMPTS TO CHRISTIANISE CENTRAL AFRICA.

    Portuguese Discoveries. Early Missionaries—Santos, Carli,
    Merolla. Exploration. Communication between the East Coast and
    the West,                                                          1-9

        CHAPTER II.—THE UNIVERSITIES’ MISSION TO CENTRAL AFRICA.

    Livingstone and Slave Caravans. Battle with the Yao. The
    Missionaries pledge themselves. Native Treachery. Death of
    Bishop Mackenzie. Departure from Magomero. The Mission Policy
    condemned. The Field abandoned,                                  10-17

                      CHAPTER III.—SCOTCH MISSIONS.

    The Scottish Churches. Missions at Livingstonia and Blantyre.
    Relation between the Missions. Threatened War. Part taken by
    the Europeans,                                                   18-25

                    CHAPTER IV.—CONTACT WITH SLAVERY.

    The English Name. Slave Refugees. A Free Native Village. Asylum
    for the Slave. Civil Jurisdiction. Punishments,                  26-37

                        CHAPTER V.—PIONEER WORK.

    Difficulties. Industrial Work. Religious Work Colonial
    Work. Efforts made to find a Clergyman. Unfair Position of
    Missionaries,                                                    38-48

                   CHAPTER VI.—QUILIMANE TO BLANTYRE.

    Traces of early Missions. Detention at Quilimane. Journey to
    Mazaro. The Zambeze. The Chiri. Hippopotami, Lions, Elephants.
    The Native Kings,                                                49-72

                    CHAPTER VII.—THE MISSION STATION.

    The Houses. Fever. Artisans. Visitors. Neighbours.
    Interpreters. School,                                            73-93

                        CHAPTER VIII.—FIRST HALF.

    Translating and Teaching. Visiting. Diary. Native Funeral. A
    Murder. The Blantyre Colony. Native Law. Insecurity,            94-114

                        CHAPTER IX.—SECOND HALF.

    New Year’s Day. Sewing Class. Housekeeping. School Work. Native
    Wars,                                                          115-130

                   CHAPTER X.—SECOND HALF—_Continued_.

    Pilfering. The Station set on Fire. Expedition to Mlanje.
    The Native Language. Scarcity. Trading Company. Field for
    Emigration,                                                    131-147

                         CHAPTER XI.—THIRD HALF.

    Founding Zomba Mission. Lake Chirwa. Attack on the Mission
    Carriers. A Slave Raid. Anxiety,                               148-177

                        CHAPTER XII.—FOURTH HALF.

    Improvements. Increase of Pupils. Boarders. Negro Laziness.
    Preaching. Slavery, touching cases. Missionary Methods. Amateur
    Physicians. At Cherasulo and Zomba,                            178-212

                        CHAPTER XIII.—FIFTH HALF.

    Hermit Life. War. Mission Difficulties. Kidnapping. A Scare.
    Wild Animals. Amusements. Visit to Zomba. Young Elephants.
    Strange Refugees,                                              213-232

                        CHAPTER XIV.—SIXTH HALF.

    Native Headmen. Translating. Imprisonments. A Slaving Chief.
    Sheep Stealing. Hopeful Pupils. Evangelical Work. The Colony
    again,                                                         233-261

                        CHAPTER XV.—SEVENTH HALF.

    Start for Scotland. “I wish to go with you.” The Magololo.
    Sabbath on the River. War in Front. Suspense. Discomforts. A
    Native Crew. Magololo Harem. Anyasa Carriers,                  262-287

                        CHAPTER XVI.—CONCLUSION.

    Work resumed. Return of Pupils. Slavery. Second Departure.
    Game. Adventure with Hippopotamus. Matekenya’s people.
    Morumbala. Mazaro. Civil Jurisdiction again! The Slave Trade.
    Quilimane. Slaves in the land of their Captivity. Mission at
    Zanzibar. Missionary Prospects in the Interior,                288-315

    APPENDIX.—NATIVE TALES.                                        316-371




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

VOL. II.


                                        PAGE

    Magomero Mission,                     10

    Women of Mazaro,                      61

    Cutting up Hippopotamus for food,     64

    The Blantyre Mission,                 75

    Native Female,                        89

    Mode of carrying in the hand,        121

    The “Manse,” Blantyre,               178

    The Basket Makers, Blantyre,         185

    Anyasa Village on the Chiri,         271

    A dangerous Hippopotamus,            290

    Hippopotami at Home,                 293

    Night Halt on the River Bank,        296

    The Kwagwa,                          300




CHAPTER I.

EARLIER ATTEMPTS TO CHRISTIANISE CENTRAL AFRICA.


The Ancients were not so ignorant about Africa as is often supposed.
Ever since that old Phenician fleet went down the Red Sea and appeared,
three years afterwards, in the Mediterranean, people knew that it
was possible to sail round the Continent. It is said that the great
Portuguese explorers derived an impulse from old maps which described
Southern Africa as bounded by sea, but in any case the Portuguese are
justly celebrated for their African discoveries, for all the knowledge
on this subject that came from antiquity was in their days as faint as a
half-forgotten dream.

No sooner had the Portuguese discovered places like the “Empire of
Monomotopa” than they wanted to open them up. They sent their colonies
and their armies; and the Church of Rome soon had missionaries among the
native tribes.

At Sofala the new settlers asked permission to build a ‘warehouse,’ but
built really a fortification. The native king becoming aware of this,
tried to surprise and massacre them, but he failed, and they eventually
became masters of the country.

Joano Dos Santos tells us in his history of Eastern Ethiopia how he
left Portugal for Eastern Africa in 1586. His book contains several
notes on the inhabitants. He questioned them about their belief in God,
and inclines to think that at some period in the past they had been
acquainted with ‘true religion’. He mentions in confirmation of this that
they kept certain festivals with a strictness that might put Christians
to shame. He found that they used ‘disagreeable herbs’ for an ordeal, and
thinks it is possible that the Deity may interpose for the punishment of
the guilty and the acquittal of the innocent. He expresses the view that
the ordeal is founded on the Bible. The natives were fond of showing him
their hunting powers and presenting him with what they caught.

In his book, which is more a history of the country than of mission work,
he takes note of the barbarous customs of the people; he speaks of their
beer-drinkings, which on special occasions would last for a week, during
which no one knew his companion. He mentions a tribe near Tete where men,
women, and children were kept in pens, and killed and eaten in succession
by their barbarous imprisoners. Sometimes the natives would overpower
the settlements of the Portuguese, who were then treated in the most
horrifying manner.

The monks that were in the country served more as chaplains to the
Portuguese armies than as missionaries to the heathen. The Portuguese
were endeavouring to introduce some kind of order among the native
tribes, and to develop the resources of the country especially in gold
and silver mines. Hence the Portuguese soldiers appeared in this quarter
following the crucifix and the arms of Portugal. A successful chief on
the other side would don the ‘clerical dress’ of some monk that he had
slain, and appear at the head of his clan with the chalice in one hand
and a spear in the other. But in course of time the country became more
settled, and the missionaries had numerous stations.

On the west coast the Portuguese missionaries seem to have laboured with
great zeal. Father Carli (1666) has recorded his experiences of African
life both in health and sickness, and many of his statements give a good
idea of inconveniences to be met with in Africa even at the present day.
He says, “My bed was against a wall which might well be called a nest
of rats—they were so many and so large that they troubled me very much,
running over me and biting my toes, which kept me from sleep. I caused
my bed to be put in the middle of the room, but to no purpose, for those
cursed creatures knew where to find me. I caused mats to be laid all
about my bed for my blacks to lie on and defend me, not only against
the rats, but any other wild creatures that might come. This precaution
stood me in no stead, for there was no night but the rats disturbed me.”
In his distress he applied to the Great Duke. “I took the freedom,” he
says, “to acquaint the Great Duke with the trouble I had from the rats,
and the stink of my blacks who had always some wild and disagreeable
smell.” The Duke promised him an infallible cure, and sent him forthwith
a tame monkey which lay at the foot of his bed. When the rats appeared
the little monkey blew hard at them, two or three times, which made them
run away, and its scent of musk corrected ‘the ill smell’ of the blacks.
“The little monkey,” he adds, “kept my head and beard clean and combed,
better than any of the blacks would have done; and to say the truth, it
is easier to teach those monkeys than the blacks.”

There is perhaps a note of bitterness and disappointment in the last
remark, but those that can understand the poor writer’s condition at the
time will readily forgive it. For many weeks he had been watching by the
death-bed of his companion, and afterwards was prostrated by extreme
sickness himself. He had no one with him but the blacks, “who stole
what they could and brought him when they thought of it, a porringer of
broth”. One night his bed was attacked by a swarm of ants, and he had
to be carried outside. Alarms of fire annoyed the poor invalid in the
same way. Yet he was not forgetful of his commission from the Church in
the way that he understood it. “Every day,” he says, “I baptised ten or
twelve children; and not being able to sit up alone in my bed, was held
up by two blacks, another holding the book, and another the basin.” The
instruction given at baptism was by no means elaborate, even when the
sacrament was administered to adults. Though but a short time in the
country he had baptised an almost incredible number of natives. He says,
as he looks back on the ‘great fatigues’ of his travels, that he would
think his days well spent “if but one of 2700 children and youths he
baptized obtained salvation through his ministry”. The good man, I have
no doubt, had some misgivings as to whether the mere rite of baptism had
permanently benefitted all that had received it. His stay in the country
though brief would be long enough to raise doubts in his mind on that
point. He does not speak hopefully of all the baptized. If he had been
able to stay with them and teach them directly in their own tongue, this
criticism would be much modified. Still the efforts of these missionaries
would not be lost. They tried to do God’s work, and no one can have a
higher motive. If there be anything in their methods that we now think
inexpedient, let us learn the proper lesson, and let us remember the
courage and zeal they manifested amidst their trials. Moreover, he does
speak of a school where natives were taught the Portuguese language and
received instruction in religion. Some of them, “though blacks,” showed
considerable genius. The people, he tells us, did not trouble about
laying up great stores of provisions; they scarce cared in the morning
whether they should have anything at night. When they accompanied the
Father on any of his journeys, sometimes he had nothing to give them
because he had nothing for himself. Then they would take a piece of wood
for a mattock and cut up the ground, and eat certain little white balls
they found near the roots of the grass. He says, “I could not for the
life of me swallow one of them, yet after such a wretched meal they would
skip, dance, and laugh as if they had been at a feast”.

Merolla (1682) is one of the earliest to give a detailed account of
mission work in Central Africa. He and his companions found themselves
greatly opposed by wizards, who were often seized and sent to the
Portuguese Governor who condemned them to death. As the native law itself
possessed similar provisions, the people supported the missionaries in
this measure and assisted in bringing wizards to justice. One of the laws
introduced was that after a person was absolved by the missionary, he was
freed from the consequences of any civil crime. “If God has pardoned, how
can man pretend to find guilty?” They had established the Confessional,
and many of them, like Luther, would try to make it a means of correcting
the faults and informing the minds of their people.

They also had their troubles with slavery. A Cardinal wrote them ‘in
the name of the sacred college complaining that the pernicious and
abominable abuse of selling slaves was still continued among them,
and asked them to use their power to remedy the said abuse’. They
had little hope of checking the evil, because there was no trade in
the country except ‘in slaves and ivory’; but they met together and
petitioned the authorities ‘that heretics at least should be excluded
from this merchandise more especially the English who made it their
chief business to buy slaves here,’ and whose slaves were in danger of
having the good principles instilled into them perverted by contact with
Protestants! The authorities granted their petition, but opposed its
operation. This brought the missionaries into serious collision with
their governors, whom, however, they promptly excommunicated. When the
struggle was over, the Governors wished to be restored to the church,
and the penance prescribed for them is instructive, as showing how the
Missionaries studied, and tried to remodel, the whole social life of
their people. ‘The penance I imposed upon the Count was that he by his
authority should oblige 300 of those that lived in unlawful wedlock to
marry.’ The restored Count did even more, he ‘brought over 400 to the
holy state of matrimony’. On the whole the Missionaries seem to have
introduced greater purity into those regions. They could also do much to
prevent wars and bloodshed. They had great influence with native rulers.
Occasionally kings and their subjects came expressing a desire to be
received into the Church in a body, but, alas, their motives were not
above suspicion—before submitting to baptism, these converts insisted on
making stipulations about ‘trade and commerce’; these stipulations the
Missionaries assented to and tried to fulfil. On occasions of baptism, it
was usual to bring presents to the Mission, and nothing can better show
the discouragements that surrounded these men than the fact that on such
occasions they were often presented with poisoned food. Merolla mentions
seven Missionaries that were thus poisoned, and he himself had a narrow
escape. They carried silver chalices, censers, &c., which were, in some
instances, an inducement to take away their lives. They set themselves
vigorously to oppose all ‘idolatry’—under which head they classed the
native charms. They were not without apprehension of the power of
sorcerers. Merolla mentions that an old witch lay down on the ground
beside him, and began to scrape a hole in it. ‘At the sight of this,’
he says, ‘I immediately ordered my interpreter to begone, being more
concerned for him than myself, for as a priest that had always trusted in
God, I doubted not but to render her charms ineffectual as to myself.’
But he does not seem to have been quite at ease, and tried afterwards to
avoid her. He explains that when they dig a hole thus in the ground they
have the intention of bewitching a person to death. In estimating the
native character, he says, ‘The Negroes are both a malicious and a subtle
people, and I likewise must allow that they spend the most of their time
in circumventing and deceiving, yet I cannot allow that because they
are a stubborn soil they must be left uncultivated’. To say that they
are always obstinate and perverse, and man-eaters is not to be made an
objection against them, because our Saviour says, ‘Those that are well do
not stand in need of a physician’. He contends that they really embrace
Christianity.

The above quoted Missionaries, it will be perceived, all belonged to the
Church of Rome, which was earliest at work in this quarter of Africa.
Their experiences are valuable to this day, as showing the nature of the
difficulties to be met, and suggesting also that Missionaries should
study more and more closely the ideal of Mission Life contained in the
Acts of the Apostles. While admitting that these men spent much of their
time in instructing their converts, I still think that their work in the
district of the Zambeze would have been more permanent if they had set
themselves to teach these natives to read and to form an intelligent
judgment on the message that was brought them. But printing presses were
not easily procured in those days, and the Missionaries did ‘what they
could’.

Before the time of Livingstone, the people of England knew little or
nothing of Central Africa. But the Portuguese were fairly familiar with
it. They had explorers as well as missionaries. Foremost among their
explorers was Dr. Lacerda, who set out from the neighbourhood of Tete in
July, 1798, and encountered quite his own share of the difficulties of
African travel. His carriers left him in scores, and he was tortured by
the fear that they would all desert “in a body”. He had little confidence
in the tribes that he was to pass through; and his heart sank within
him on finding that the natives with him hardly knew how to use their
muskets. After a march of about three months, he died at Kazembe’s.
Father Pinto kept a diary of the return journey, from which it appears
that the party suffered much from sickness and enemies. They had to
fight their way through the Awisa, and even after they were out of Awisa
territory, every little chief contrived either to rob them or make them
give up their goods as ‘presents’. They were so dispirited that the least
threat made them yield. Tete was so far civilised by this time, that
Pinto had a repugnance to appear on daylight except in ‘decent clerical
attire’. In 1806, Baptista performed the journey across Africa between
Angola and Tete, and soon after, a decree was issued from the Palace of
Rio de Janeiro ordering the formation of a company of pedestrians to be
employed in the communication between the East coast and the West.




CHAPTER II.

THE UNIVERSITIES’ MISSION.


One brilliant effort to introduce Christianity into this region of Africa
was occasioned by the explorations of Dr. Livingstone. An excellent
staff of clergy headed by Bishop Mackenzie was sent out by the English
Universities. The party reached the scene of their work in July, 1861.
They met with their first difficulties at Mbami, a short day’s march from
the Shire. A large caravan of 84 slaves brought from Zomba came into this
village, and Livingstone set the slaves free. Bishop Mackenzie wrote on
this occasion ‘Livingstone is right to go with loaded guns and free the
poor slaves; and there being so few English here, we are right, though
clergymen and preachers of the gospel, to go with him’.

[Illustration: MISSIONARIES BUYING FOOD AT MAGOMERO.

(_See the Story of the Universities Mission by the Rev. H. Rowley._)]

They soon chose Magomero, on a stream called the Namasi, as the site
of their first Mission station. The rescued slaves felt that they were
safe only with their deliverers, and staid with them. The Wayao were
now pressing into the country of the Anyasa, killing, enslaving, and
spreading terror on all sides. On July 23rd, Dr. Livingstone, the
Bishop, and nearly all the party went toward their encampment. Dr.
Livingstone told them he was come for peace, but they did not believe
him, and a fight ensued. The Yao thought they were more than a match for
the Europeans and rushed forward, but after receiving a few well directed
rifle shots they changed their minds. One Anyasa man was slain on the
English side, and another wounded.

By the 14th of August they were fully committed to the policy of going
against the Yao. The lesson this tribe had received already had not been
sufficient, and great bodies of them were pillaging the Anyasa. The
latter had applied to the Missionaries for aid, which, after three days’
deliberation, was promised them, on certain conditions. These conditions
were:—

“I. That all the chiefs then present should solemnly promise that they
would never buy or sell men, women, and children again.

II. That all captives found with the Yao should be perfectly free; that
no chief or person should claim any one of them; but that all should have
liberty to go to whom they liked, and where they liked.

III. That all chiefs present promise that they will unite to punish any
chief who sells his own people, or the people of any other chief, and
that each chief will punish any of his own people found guilty of buying
or selling men, women, or children for slaves.

IV. That if any Portuguese or other foreign slavers came into the land
they would drive them away, or at once let us know of their presence.”

The Missionaries clearly saw what was needed, but their theories were
somewhat bold, at least for a beginning. Probably if they had been as
many weeks in the country as they had been days, the idea of binding
natives to promises of this nature would have struck them as a doubtful
method. As I read these conditions I think of the poor Interpreter that
had to translate them: the English idioms employed are not such as would
facilitate his task. The conditions, as we might infallibly anticipate,
were all received, and the English undertook to help the Anyasa against
the Yao. As we might as infallibly anticipate from a slight knowledge of
the natives, those that appeared with guns on the eventful day had “no
powder,” and expected English ammunition. August the 14th must have been
felt to be the beginning of a new era. All were up by four o’clock. There
were eight Englishmen, besides the great multitude of Anyasa. The party
marched straight on Zomba, where a great body of Yao lay. A parley was
tried but failed. Then the battle began, and when the Yao found that the
English guns carried so far, they were soon in retreat; perhaps about
five of them were killed.

But the Yao tribe continued to give trouble. By 17th of October another
march was made against them. Though the Anyasa guns took about an hour
to load, the expedition was able to start at six in the morning. The
majority of the mission staff were unwell, and in no fit state for such
troubles. On the 18th the Mission force reached Lake Shirwa. They found,
as the Bishop remarks, that they could rely on their Anyasa allies “only
for cowardice and falsehood”. But the Wayao, instead of fighting, ran
away after two shots were fired, and the party went on and burned their
huts.

During all this time, and in spite of difficulties and interruption,
the missionaries were labouring hard among the natives. On the 4th of
November the Bishop writes, “We have plenty of room here for setting
down six or eight missions”. On the 2nd of December another interruption
occurred. Messrs. Proctor and Scudamore, two clergymen, went to see
whether the Ruo could be made available for the transport of goods. They
were received and treated civilly by Mwanasomba, a chief near Mlanje,
who offered them a hut to sleep in all night. His plan was to burn this
hut at midnight, kill the missionaries, and then take possession of
their goods. The treachery was fortunately discovered, but it was with
difficulty that the party made their escape.

On 31st December “it was arranged that they should start very early, so
as to get to Mwanasomba before people were awake”. “They were not going
in private revenge, but to free the captives and punish the robber and
would-be murderer in God’s name. They had the good word and the approval
of the chiefs around.” When they were about half-an-hour from the village
they met Mwanasomba and his people who called out “Stand still, do not
come on,” but when it was perceived that the party was well armed and
contained many Englishmen Mwanasomba’s people ran away. The natives with
the English tried to catch some of the opposite party for a consultation,
but failed. The English party then pressed on to the village and set the
huts on fire. They recovered some of their goods, and found a number of
sheep, goats, and ducks, which would be a great temptation to the natives
that were with them. As they were making their way through some reeds on
their return, they were fired on. Two of their natives were wounded; one
afterwards died. The Bishop says, “We had vindicated the English name,
and had shown in this neighbourhood that it is not safe to attack an
Englishman: and I hope the lesson may not be thrown away on these people”.

On the 31st of January, 1862, Bishop Mackenzie died. He had been little
more than half-a-year on the Shire Highlands, but he had fully faced
all the difficulties and trials of mission life there. A month before
his death he wrote, “I have much at times to depress me; more than ever
I had. But I expected it, and must not complain. I should not mind
discouragement among the heathen, but it is among our Cape Town men.”
His death was a great blow to the Mission. Still the Mission was strong
in its band of clergy, and they had one medical man; but war and famine
desolated the country, they had the greatest difficulty and anxiety in
getting food, sickness was ever among them, and death called many of them
away. The Rev. Mr. Burrup, a strong young man, came into the country to
die: he was buried at Magomero.

In a short time the Station at Magomero was abandoned. A letter of Dr.
James Stewart, now of Lovedale, written in 1862, states that there was
a stampede at the end. “The Yao tribe had been ravaging the country
round about, and had come within a few miles of the Station, which was
threatened. Then a precipitate retreat was made with nearly all their
goods and chattels down to the River Shire.” Both Dr. Livingstone and
Dr. Stewart thought the Mission had lost all “prestige”. I quote this
merely to illustrate the atmosphere in which the Missionaries lived.
Everywhere was war, and they may have felt to some extent unsettled. But
they had now been about a year in the country; they had found plenty of
work to do in trying to acquire the language, &c., and in proportion
as they were busy these scares would not so much affect them. But no
doubt the danger was great, and as they were suffering from fever they
would feel it all the more. The Anyasa were ever asking their aid, but
they ‘determined to go and fight for them no more,’ and as they did not
consider Magomero a healthy site they settled on the banks of the Shire.
This was an advantage for communication, but I fear they had by no means
found a healthier spot. The removal took place about May; on 1st January,
1863, the Rev. Mr. Scudamore died; and in a short time Mr. Dickinson,
the surgeon, was in a grave beside him. One of their greatest trials was
want of food, which rendered their position almost desperate. The Mission
never returned to the Shire Highlands again, although some members like
the Rev. Horace Waller were much in favour of doing so, and this course
would have likely been pursued if the Mission had continued in the
country. But just as all their troubles seem to have been overcome they
withdrew. Most of the survivors were so reduced by sickness that it was
necessary for them to return home if they would save their lives.

One of their great difficulties had been to get provisions. Large
supplies were sent from England, but scarcely anything reached them, as
their stores were plundered by the way. Many of the deaths might have
been prevented by proper food. It happened at the same time, that there
was a great famine in the country, and it was difficult to get food for
the poor people that came under their protection. One sentence from Mr.
Rowley will describe this. “War and famine,” he says, “had done their
work, and ninety per cent of the Anyasa were dead; save in our immediate
neighbourhood, the land was a desolation.”

Their troubles with the natives had involved them in misunderstanding
with the Church at home. To quote again from Mr. Rowley:—“The news from
home, informed us of the condemnation of our policy against the Yao,
by some of our friends at Oxford. This did not come to us officially,
for the committee simply expressed confidence in us individually and
collectively. I do not think any of us were surprised that our policy had
been condemned, seeing the men who condemned it, did not understand the
causes leading us to adopt it, and the motives actuating us. We were not
angry; but we were thankful that the Bishop and Scudamore were removed
from the pain, which the manner of some in condemning, would have given
them.”

In 1863, Livingstone refers to the famine and death caused by the slave
trade, and writes, “I have been visiting Bishop Mackenzie’s grave. At
first, I thought him wrong in fighting, but do not think so now.” Bishop
Mackenzie’s successor considered the country too unsettled for continuing
the Mission. For about twelve years, nothing further was attempted for
this unhappy land.




CHAPTER III.

SCOTCH MISSIONS.


In the days of the Magomero Mission the Free Church of Scotland had
thought of Africa, and had sent out Dr. Stewart to see the country.
But at that time matters were very discouraging: the difficulties of
Mission work had been clearly demonstrated, besides it would have been
an invidious thing for another Church to send its missionaries into the
very spot then abandoned by the Church of England. Still, many Christians
would think of these heathen, and when Livingstone’s death seemed to call
his countrymen to their duty, the Church of Scotland and the Free Church
awoke to a feeling of their obligation to send the Gospel to Africa.

The first to move in the matter was the Rev. Dr. MacRae of Hawick, who
began to collect funds for a Central African Mission in connection
with the Church of Scotland, and asked Mr. Young, R.N., to lead the
expedition. In a short time the Free Church also entered heartily into
the idea of sending a Mission to Central Africa, and appealing to
certain liberal and wealthy members, soon secured the necessary funds,
and applied also to Mr. Young. The naval officer made the sensible
suggestion that a sort of Scotch National Mission should be tried, but
this idea was not entertained. Dr. MacRae had not yet collected the
necessary funds, and when the Free Church party started, all he could do
was to send out one agent along with it.

In April, 1875, Mr. Henderson, the pioneer engaged by the Church of
Scotland to go to Lake Nyassa, was introduced to the Foreign Committee by
Dr. MacRae, who then addressed him in these words:—“You will be placed
in circumstances in which you will feel that you are an exile from home,
and separate from your brethren. In the path of duty in that far land
you will encounter difficulties, privations, and hazards, which it will
require no ordinary courage and patience to sustain and conquer; and you
will be brought into contact with scenes most revolting to the sentiments
of enlightened nature.”

On arriving in Africa the Free Church missionaries pressed on to Lake
Nyassa, and settled at a station which they called Livingstonia. Mr.
Henderson started from this Lake and passed down by Zomba till he reached
Ndilande, near which he chose a station, which was named Blantyre, after
Livingstone’s birthplace.

Other agents for the Blantyre settlement were selected in the course of
the following year, when the Directors appointed a medical missionary,
Dr. Macklin, and five artisans. Among the latter Mr. John Buchanan was
enrolled as gardener. The purpose before the mind of the Church is well
explained in its _Missionary Record_ as follows:—

“The Mission is industrial and evangelical, designed to be a nucleus of
advancing centres of Christian life and civilisation to the Nyassa and
surrounding region. It is the first mission of the Church of Scotland
to the continent of Africa, her first contribution of Christian love
to the people who have been for ages the miserable victims of blood
and violence. It is the first step which she has taken to make some
reparation to the African people for the unnumbered wrongs which our
forerunners perpetrated upon them.” “It was observed with surprise
and regret that there were no ordained ministers among the party, but
the Directors hoped in the course of a year to send out at least one
clergyman and two or three more artisans and teachers.”

On 16th May, 1876, at a meeting held in Edinburgh, this party were
commended to the care of the Almighty. On 16th June, they reached
Capetown, and about a week later, they found themselves at the ultimate
limits of civilisation; and after they had travelled as far as they could
by the ordinary mail steamers, they chartered a Swedish vessel called
the Ansgarius. On 9th August, they reached Quilimane. Mr. Henderson, who
had gone to wait for them at the mouth of the Zambeze, now received a
message requesting him to meet them at Mazaro, which the party reached in
the beginning of September. Starting from Mazaro on 16th September, they
arrived at Makukani’s on 7th October, after a long journey, during which
they were never all free from fever. It was 23rd October before they
reached the spot chosen for the Mission. At Blantyre there was a native
village, but as its chief had been recently killed by Makukani, all the
houses were deserted (41).

By the time they reached their destination some had suffered severely,
and were unable to walk. In those days a large part of each man’s
time was spent in bed. In this condition they were cut off from all
communication with their friends. No letters could be sent home. One
of their first opportunities for writing was in April, 1877, when Mr.
Henderson left the Mission.

It was a long time before the party regained health; but about the
middle of 1877, we find letters reporting considerable progress. One of
these says:—“Mr. Stewart has succeeded in making out a good line for a
water course. This will bring the water into the station, and serve for
irrigation as well. A large stream is not necessary just now, but Mr.
Stewart says twenty cubic feet per minute, or even thirty, can be got.
This work, however, will not be begun till the houses are finished.” Mr.
Stewart was a civil engineer who, instead of spending his Indian furlough
in rest, went and engaged in mission work in Africa.

Mr. Buchanan, writing in August, 1877, says:—“Within the last two months
Blantyre has got a very different appearance from what it formerly had.
Our station is laid out in the form of a square—100 yards long and 55
yards broad. A road 11 feet wide goes down both sides, and across both
ends. In the centre is a circle of 32 feet diameter. A road 12 feet
wide goes down the centre. From the centre, at the east end, two roads
take their start. One 400 yards long, and 3 yards broad, runs in a
south-easterly direction to the stream where we get our water. Another
1000 yards long, and 4 yards broad, leads to the north-east in the
direction of Malunga’s village; the direction also to Pimbé. Another
road, 700 yards long, and 4 yards wide, leaves the centre at the west
end, and leads in the direction of Makukani’s and the Shiré. A fourth
road from the south side goes to the rice ground. 60 yards from the
starting-point of the first two roads is one crossing from the one to the
other, and forming the base of a triangle. In the centre of this triangle
is a mound 20 feet in diameter, in which at the proper season I shall
plant a few of the Eucalyptus globulus. This angle is all I intend for a
flower-garden, along with some small spots besides these. Should flowers
do well this first season, it can be easily extended in the following.
On both sides of the square houses are being built. Plans for eight are
laid out, three are already built. They are after what is called the
Indian bungalow style; their dimensions are 30 feet by 20, with a veranda
of 5 feet all round. From the level of the floor to the wall-plate is
10 feet, the perpendicular of the couples 7 feet 6 inches. The frame is
put up of posts from 4 inches diameter, 45 inches apart; bamboo is tied
on horizontally 8 inches apart; sides, end, and roof are thatched with
grass. The walls are plastered outside and inside with mud, and finished
with a whitewashing of lime. This is got by burning shells, which the
natives gather and bring for sale.”

_Relations between the Two Missions._—Although the Church of Scotland
and the Free Church have differences at home, the missionaries sent to
Africa felt it to be their interest, as well as their duty, to overlook
such quarrels. The Missions needed each other’s assistance in various
ways, and such assistance was freely given. Those upon the spot saw that
the labours of both Missions were in the same cause. It takes a long time
to lay the simple Gospel message before the natives in their own tongue.
If a minister were to begin by preaching to these poor negroes about
theories that separate good Christians at home, he would be a miserable
trifler. We believe that one missionary got a hint from Scotland about
“distinctive principles,” but he replied that he could not find a native
word to express these differences, and that he did not care to invent one.

The Missions joined together in the transport of provisions and the
making of roads. On many occasions the absence of one settlement would
have been a terrible calamity to the other. The missionaries were
dependent on supplies received from home. After they ordered anything,
a whole year would elapse before they received it, and occasionally
a steamer would sink with their goods. But for mutual help, the
missionaries would have been often reduced to extremities. The Church
of Scotland had the healthier station, and the Free Church men often
went there to recruit. At Blantyre it was possible to do a great deal of
work, both mental and physical, without suffering; but at Livingstonia,
Europeans had to be exceedingly careful. Fever was ever lurking, ready
to make them a prey. They had to be on the shores of the Lake for easy
communication, but though they there enjoyed a beautiful view of the
Nyassa, they missed the bracing influence of the mountainous regions.

_Threatened War._—On July 16th, 1877, there were alarming rumours of an
incursion of the Mangoni (Maviti). It was stated that they had crossed
the Chiri; and the natives from all parts were fleeing to the hills in
great terror.

This country had been the scene of a constant succession of wars. In
the time of the Magomero Mission, the Yao drove the Anyasa out of
the Blantyre region. After this the Anyasa, under the Magololo, were
continually making small attacks on the Yao, while the latter were
constantly retaliating. Then the Mangoni appeared on the scene, and
attacked both the Yao and the Anyasa. They killed all that made any
resistance, and captured such as could not escape. The Yao ascended their
mountains, the Anyasa fled to islands in the Chiri, while all their food
and property fell into the hands of the Mangoni. The Yao suffered most.
Many of them were surprised and killed, and those that escaped could only
look down with sad hearts from the tops of mountains upon the invaders,
who had possession of their wives and children, and feasted upon their
crops. It was

    “The good old rule, the simple plan,
    That he should take who has the power,
    That he should keep who can.”

Although the Yao had but lately profited by the maxim, it was none the
less bitter when applied to themselves.

When the Mangoni had consumed all the crops they withdrew. The Yao then
came down from their fastnesses and sowed another crop, but as soon as
it became valuable, the Mangoni appeared again. Others might sow, but
they would reap. This process was carried on year after year. Some
of the Mangoni settled for a short time on the Blantyre side of the
Chiri. Yao chiefs were quite dispirited. But while matters were at the
darkest, the missionaries appeared on the scene. A Yao headman said to
me, “The English are very clever. We could not tell them that we were all
dying—that the Mangoni were killing us, but they knew themselves and came
to help us.”

On July 23rd, the missionaries held a meeting with Kapeni and Malunga,
regarding the defence of the district, and the day after they began to
load cartridges with slugs, and to make bricks for a mud fort. In all
quarters of the country the natives seemed terribly alarmed. From distant
Zomba there came an embassy to tell the Mission of the death of the
former king or chief. From Kumpama and Mkanda messages also came, and
it was clear that every native chief was eager to secure the friendship
of the Mission at that crisis. It was an anxious time for the Europeans
themselves. They thought it necessary to institute target practice. The
Mangoni being a branch of the Zulus, were no contemptible foe. The danger
happily passed away, the Mangoni returned without attacking a single
village; the occurrence was attributed to the presence of the white
men, and all the natives looked upon the Europeans as their protectors.
From the time that the missionaries made their appearance, until now,
the Mangoni have not come at their wonted season. “They were afraid to
interfere with the friends of the white men.”




CHAPTER IV.

CONTACT WITH SLAVERY.


By and by not only oppressed tribes but oppressed individuals looked
to the Missions for succour. In the interior the English name had
long been associated with opposition to slavery. The natives regarded
Livingstone and the members of the Universities’ Mission as the special
friends of the slave. Such of them as had visited the coast had picked
up information about English ships of war which were the terror of the
slave-drivers.

_The Free Church._—As early as February, 1877, we find Dr. Stewart
saying: “Livingstonia seems to have taken a start and begun to grow in
one of the directions we specially wish it to grow—as an anti-slavery
centre”. When the Mission party arrived, there were hardly any natives
settled at Livingstonia. Soon many came seeking protection, and were
received by the missionaries. It was proclaimed that any one that ran
away to escape being sold would be received. The great slaving chiefs,
as might be expected, would be against the Mission in this policy, but
they took no hostile steps. It was seldom that owners inquired after
refugees, and when they did they had to go away very crestfallen. They
were told that refugees proved guilty of any crime would be given up, but
that innocent men and women crying for English protection should not cry
in vain. Dr. Stewart had the Fugitive Slave Circular before his mind, and
recognised that many complications might arise, and yet he expressed his
conviction that the missionaries could not do otherwise than they were
doing.

_Church of Scotland._—In the same manner the Directors of the Blantyre
Mission proclaimed in their Reports: “No Arab gangs will come near an
Englishman, if they can help it. With them the English name is synonymous
with destroyer of slavery. When Livingstone was at Nyassa, they fled
from his neighbourhood and took to distant and circuitous paths to avoid
meeting him. This guilt and terror on their part is contrasted with
the confidence and reverence inspired by Englishmen in the breasts of
the natives. We are assured that a Mission once established, they will
settle around it, receive our instructions and our help, place themselves
under our authority, and rise by order and Christian observance into the
state of civilised communities. What is done on the coast, and at a vast
expense (yet most righteously), by vessels of war, will be done here by
Christian missions—with this difference, that in delivering the orphan,
the outcast, and the captive, they will introduce them to a home life of
security and freedom, will take them out of the low prison, and show them
‘the glorious liberty of the children of God’.”

An extract from a letter of Dr. Macklin’s, of 7th Dec., 1877, which was
published in March, 1878, in the _Missionary Record_, will show that
neither the Blantyre missionaries nor the Directors at home hesitated
to espouse the cause of the slave:—“Some time ago there were two boys
here supposed to be brothers: after they had been here some months their
father came and took them home because they got no calico. Well, not
a long time afterwards, one of them came back and told us he had run
away, and wanted to stay with us; said he was not the man’s son, but
a slave, and had been bought some years ago. He asked our protection,
and I said, ‘You shall now stay with us, and no man can touch you’.
Two days afterwards his father, as he called himself, came for him. I
brought Evangeli out and confronted him with the man, and asked him the
same questions which I had previously, and he gave the same answers. I
then said to the man, ‘He is not your son, but a slave, and he has my
protection, and is now free’. All this took place in public before a
great many Yao men. The man said he did not wish to be an enemy, but
that the boy was his. I told him we gave him his freedom and English
protection.”

_A Free Native Village._—Mr. Stewart, writing from Blantyre in
November, 1877, says:—“I must mention another very interesting and
promising circumstance. We have a native village growing up near us.
The first-comers were three or four families from the neighbourhood of
the Cataracts, who, on account of the insecurity of their village from
Mangoni raids, but without having been actually hunted from their homes,
came here, and spontaneously put themselves under our protection. Land
has been given them, and a site for their houses. They are required to
build substantial square houses; the size adopted is 20 feet by 14 feet.
Four such are now being erected by their unassisted labours. They have
been joined by one or two families from this district. The men are well
built and athletic, with open, smiling countenances. They and the women
frequently attend our meetings. They are, I think, a good beginning of
our future tenantry.” Of the school he says:—“It fluctuates in numbers,
and has not grown as fast as might be wished. Parents cannot be induced
to leave their boys here for long at one time. The boys are docile, and
willing to attend; the difficulty is with the parents.” Soon the children
of these refugees became the main hope of the school: while their parents
attended the religious meetings and formed a congregation. The state
of progress by March, 1878, is summed up in these words, where special
emphasis is given to the position on slavery:—“Our Mission at Blantyre
continues to prosper in its various operations; the natives are friendly,
and are impressed with a sense of its value; the school is well attended;
the area of cultivation has much increased, and Blantyre has become an
asylum for the slave.”

In Dr. Macklin’s letter we find the following:—“We have three more slave
refugees here at present, two women (one has a child) and a boy. The
first one came nearly two months ago, having run away from her master
because he abused her; no inquiries were made after her by any one. The
second one—the boy—came about three weeks ago, he having run away on his
being taken to join a gang of slaves from the Cherasulo district. A man
came after him next day and said he was his son; but this was an evident
falsehood, for the boy was not Yao at all. I dismissed farther hearing
of the case for four days, until Mr. Stewart should return with the
interpreter. But it seems after the boy had left the house the man had
attempted to seize him, but the boy eluded him and ran back to the house,
and the man after him; but my servant Ropa prevented him from getting
hold of the boy. I ordered the man off the place, but he would not go,
and continued to talk to me; at this I ordered Ropa to catch hold of
him, but the man resisted; whereupon both Mapas and myself rushed at the
man and disarmed him and sent him from the place. I need hardly say he
did not return again. The third—the woman with the child—came three days
afterwards, having escaped from the large gang. We learned that the gang
was going to Nyungwi on the Zambeze. Accordingly, we determined to try
and stop them; and so we sent a present of two blankets to the Magololo
chief, Chiputula, asking him not to allow them to cross the Shiré, by
refusing them canoes, but on no account to fight with them. It is a
fortnight nearly since the woman came, and no one has come after her. You
thus see that, in a measure, we are succouring the oppressed and setting
the captive free. Would that we could as easily set them free from the
bondage of sin and the darkness of ignorance!”

All the white men in the country disliked the system of slavery, and
struggled against it. In this they were applauded by the Directors at
home. They had no clergyman regularly at the station, and, although
evangelistic work was not neglected, the secular side of the Mission was
by far the more prominent. The Church of Scotland did not expect so much
at first from the religious side of the Mission, as from the Industrial.
It was felt, as in the days of Gregory the Great, that Mission work would
move by “steps and not by leaps”. The cultivation of the soil was eagerly
looked to, as a means of rendering the Mission self-supporting, and
the missionaries were urged to acquire land. By May, 1878, we find Dr.
Macklin writing—“There are evidences or indications that we are beginning
to influence the natives for good, by our conduct towards them and by our
example. We have now got five women and one boy, escaped from slavery,
under our protection. Concerning the acquisition of land as our own, I
may here state that I have succeeded in getting from the chief a large
grant, of which much of the land is excellent. In consideration of this
grant we must make some annual present to the chief.”

Besides espousing the cause of weakest, the Mission also commended
itself by acts of kindness. Dr. Macklin writes with reference to a
famine—“During the height of the distress I sent some hundredweights of
grain from our own store to Katunga, one of the Magololo chiefs, who is a
great friend of ours, and has supplied us with most of the sugar-cane we
have.”

We conclude this chapter by extracts from a letter of Dr. Macklin’s,
written in the end of March, 1878, which throws much light on the various
aspects of the work.

“The Mission in its civil and social aspects is making reasonable and
satisfactory progress. As an asylum for the poor, persecuted slave,
Blantyre is becoming known and prized. We have now six fellow-creatures
rescued from the lash of the slave driver, and miseries worse than death.
And this in turn, prepares them for giving a ready reception to the free
offers of the greater emancipation, salvation by grace through Jesus
Christ our Lord. My present circumstances give a new emphasis to the old
law of the city of refuge. Just think of the poor, fainting woman bearing
her child, fleeing for her life, but sustained by the hope that if only
she can reach the British flag, which already she sees fluttering in the
evening breeze, her child shall live and herself be free.

“I think I told you in my last, that we were annoyed with some pilfering,
but had not been able to bring the petty thefts home to any one.
Recently, however, we have found that the thieves do not belong to our
Africans, but to another tribe, namely, to Makukani’s people. Had we the
benefits of a good Glasgow reporter, your attention might be arrested by
some such heading as, ‘Daring, Exciting Chase, and Clever Capture’. The
story is as follows:—On the morning of the 13th February last, about four
o’clock, both Mapas and William Koyi were awakened by attempts being made
to pull the blankets off them. Mapas recognising at once the position of
affairs, waited for the arm being put in again at the window—nor had he
long to wait; but in the darkness he failed to secure the arm, and only
alarmed the thieves, who made off with the booty already secured, and
well packed in two large bundles. Mapas instantly roused the others in
that house—there are now eight houses—and gave chase. Koyi who waited to
put on some clothes, saw another man coming from the line of the stores,
where our white men, Walker and Fenwick, sleep. The thieves, observing
that some one was approaching, threw down the bundles and ran. Koyi,
being armed, threatened to fire on them if they did not stop, but on
hearing this the thieves plunged into the bush and were lost to sight.
William Koyi, being a man who can endure a great deal of comfort, now
gave up the pursuit; but brave Mapas and Kumlomba, the headman of the
village, who had been roused by the noise, knowing the thieves would try
to strike the road at another point, pushed on to anticipate them, and
were just in time to meet them face to face. On being challenged they
again plunged into the bush, whereupon Mapas fired. The report of the gun
brought us all to that point, and I, having posted sentinels at several
points, led a small party into the bush for the purpose of scouring it
thoroughly, but we came upon no man. In the meantime, Mapas had come upon
the trail of one man, and had pursued him for a space of eight miles,
and that, too, in his shirt and bare feet, through tall, wet grass and
stumps. It was, indeed an exciting chase, the thief ran for dear life,
Mapas for the glory of victory, and the good of our Colony. You will say
he deserved to win, and he did win, and bring back the thief a prisoner.
We are Britons, and we are fond of British pluck, but in what is this
man’s blood and spirit inferior to our own? And surely there is good
hope of the race which can furnish such men. The thief, when brought
back, was called into ‘Court,’ got a trial, in which, according to the
phraseology of Scotch forms, he emitted, admitted former thefts, and
implicated his chief in a charge of reset and participation. This, in all
probability was a false charge, and made in order to throw the shield
of his chief’s protection over himself. I hope this part of his story
is not true. In the afternoon, however, he was sentenced to get nine
dozen lashes, and before all the people he got five dozen that day, and
was then led to the stocks. Three days after, he received the remaining
four dozen, but the flogging was nothing like the flogging which used
to be for British sailors and soldiers. Some skin only came off on the
second day. We kept him in all about a month, and then the people being
all assembled, we made proclamation that, if after two days the prisoner
should be found on the Yao territory, or on this side the Kabula river,
the people were at liberty to kill him. Of course, this proclamation was
made by the Yao headman. After this proclamation was made, the prisoner
was escorted out of the Yao country by armed men. The other thief was
never seen, and did not return home; neither, indeed, need our prisoner
go back, for his people would kill him—probably on the old Spartan
principle, not because he stole, but because he was so inexpert as to
allow himself to be caught. The chief denies all knowledge of the thefts,
and declared that we ought to have shot the man. Mr. Stewart spoke to
him on the subject, and that is his statement; but it is not right to
shoot the poor creatures; and if they would let us, we could show them a
more excellent way; and I hope the day is not far, at all events, very
far distant, when the law of the eighth commandment will reach further in
Africa than the commands of any chief.

“The people among whom we live were delighted at the capture of the
thief, and they came up to me and said proudly, ‘Now, you see it is not
Yao people who steal your things; we are friends, it is the Anyasa who
steal. They are thieves.’ This affair has undoubtedly been of use in
clearing away those clouds of suspicion which had settled down, impairing
our confidence and making all our intercourse less happy and enjoyable.
Horses, I think, would give a great impulse to civilisation in this part
of Africa, and, of course, would more than double man’s ability in every
question of time and space. Will anybody bestow even one horse on the
Mission, and make a fair trial of the horse in Eastern Africa? The cows
we got are doing well. Senhor Nunes, of Quilimane, says a good horse
could be brought from Port Elizabeth for £50 or £60—that includes all
charges of conveyances. Do not some of your merchant princes spend that
sum on a single party?

“I had almost omitted to state that the brave Mapas belongs to the
Livingstonia Mission and Dr. Laws, and that we made him a present of
£10 in all. What I may call the subscription sheet bore the following
heading:—‘Testimonial to Mr. Mapas Ntintili, as a mark of personal
respect and recognition of his perseverance and bravery on the morning
of February 13th, 1878.’ His feet were so cut and torn with the long
race, rough ground, and tree stumps concealed among the tall grass, that
he was lame for several days. Hitherto we have had to carry our goods
from the river to this place, but we expect the time will soon come when
we will have a bullock waggon ‘trecking’ our goods from the rivers.
Convey my thanks to the kind friends who, through Mr. Mackeith, have
sent some things very valuable for working the Mission and attracting
the natives; and assure them that Dr. Laws, of the Livingstonia Mission,
shall have the free use of everything alternately with myself. Just now,
he is here writing beside me, and the co-operation of the two Missions,
as only different branches of one, is very pleasant, and I think very
useful. Christianity ought to be presented as one thing—not many—as our
Lord’s outer garment without seam, woven from the top throughout, all
one piece. Our water course is now completed, and we have water flowing
throughout our station, and channels are cut in several directions,
enabling us to run water to our wheat, corn, rice, and maize fields, and
to our terraces where our garden produce is raised. This supply of water
is an unspeakable advantage. Our Cape gooseberries have done well, we
have now an abundant supply of them, and also of French beans, lettuce,
beetroot, tomatoes.

“Of all these and others we expect to have a supply all the year round,
now that we can water the beds. Let me add one thing more. We have got
upwards of fifty orange, lemon, and lime trees—young, of course, but
all doing well, so that in three years we may be eating our own oranges.
As for bananas, we have three or four hundred of them, many of which are
already bearing fruit.”




CHAPTER V.

PIONEER WORK AND CIVIL JURISDICTION.


Pioneer work is slow, and many people grumble at this. Some imagine that
pioneers are immediately to enter into houses built of stone and lime,
having grapes hanging in clusters from the walls, and surrounded by
lovely bowers amidst orange groves. These houses, they further expect,
will be accessible by the easiest roads, while at every stage there will
be an inn erected for the refreshment of travellers. If the pioneer do
not find all these things ready-made, he would need a magic wand to call
them into existence in the short time that such people allow him for the
accomplishment of his work. In reality, the first settler is beset with
difficulties at every step. Place a European in the centre of a tropical
forest extending twenty miles each way, where no road has ever been made,
tell him that within two years he must there erect a model station, and
though he have several artisans to help him, his first idea will be that
it would take the whole of that time to clear away the timber: at all
events he will feel that his fruit harvest will not fill his bosom very
soon. This is no fanciful supposition, for the pioneer may be placed
in a much larger forest, and he soon realises that work at home and
work in his new circumstances are quite different. After erecting some
miserable shed for himself, he may wish to begin his task by making—say
a wheel-barrow. This duty he assigns to the joiner, who sets to work,
and for days upon days is occupied with that wheel-barrow. The superior
thinks that he is trifling and begins to grumble.

“Why, I have known a carpenter at home make a barrow in a third of the
time. What can you be about?”

“True, sir, but the carpenter at home gets all the wood properly cut up
for him and well seasoned, and for wheels he has nothing to do, but——.”

“Still, if you reckon your time, that barrow has cost more than £20
already.”

“Yes, sir, but I had to go and cut down the trees and convey them up
here. Then I had to saw them up and begin to cut out—”

As the practical man proceeds thus to enumerate the stages of his work,
his missionary friend begins to fear that the victory over the forest
will not be gained even so soon as he at first expected. Perhaps the
saddest part of the experiment is to come. After the “barrow” is made it
is of no use! Many early experiments end in this way. The learned critic
at home exclaims, “Why should the blockhead want a barrow? If I were
there, I would use the cattle and horses of the natives for beasts of
burden!” But the critic has a great advantage over the hapless pioneer—it
is so much easier to create cattle and horses in the imagination than in
the African jungle.

_Religious Work._—Difficult as it is to be a Pioneer of Civilisation,
it is still more so to be a Pioneer of Religion. Christians in Central
Africa find it easier to make the forest a farm than to make the
savage a Christian. These Europeans were confronted with the delicate
and difficult problem of evangelising, and they most realised their
powerlessness when Sunday came round. As the natives pressed about them
on the day of rest, they felt in their hearts “we must do something”. But
what could they do? Absolutely nothing. They had no interpreters. Unable
to speak to the natives, they might try to show good feeling by looks and
gestures, but after all, these appeared to the savage as nothing better
than ridiculous grimaces. But they happened to have a musical box, and
on a Sabbath afternoon, they judged it better to turn this on than to do
nothing!

The Livingstonia Mission fortunately possessed interpreters, one of whom
was ultimately lent to Blantyre. Still unless interpreters are educated,
and understand something of Christianity, they cannot be relied on. They
may assist a missionary in learning the language, but they will not do
for preaching. On one occasion a European missionary of much experience
was delivering an able, and as he thought, a solemn address to these
natives through an interpreter, when all at once the whole audience burst
into a fit of laughter. Everyone appreciated the joke intensely except
the speaker himself. Now an accident like this may happen even where
the interpreter is rendering most literally. Indeed if a clergyman were
suddenly introduced into the heart of these tribes, able himself to
speak their words, he would find that many vocables he used, have very
different associations in their tongue from what they have in his own. In
order to benefit the natives one must be able not merely to speak their
words, but to understand their mode of thought.

_Civil Jurisdiction._—It would clearly be no light task for men to
perform all these duties, even where left to work without interruption,
and under a settled government. But the missionaries discovered that life
and property were not so secure as in Britain, for soon they suffered
much from thieves. They had good cause to be watchful, as if their
clothes were all carried off, they had no chance of getting more for a
whole year. In that remote land there were no clothiers and tailors,
and through a successful theft, or a fire, a man might be reduced to
the primitive fig leaves. A European superintending road-making at a
distance from his colleagues, awoke one night to find that his wardrobe
was—nothing to boast of!

The missionaries were bound to face the problems of dealing with thieves,
and the method adopted has been described at the end of last chapter,
in a letter which was published in full in the Scotch newspapers, and
of which extracts were made in the Missionary Record of the Church
of Scotland. On that occasion no one criticised the Mission or its
Directors; but at a later period the method was entirely condemned. For
myself, I was very much astonished the first time I was told that the
Directors had sanctioned the practice. I thought it objectionable, not
because I fancied that there was the least suspicion of cruelty or
danger, but because I did not like to see it connected in the remotest
way with Mission work. Still those that know the state of the country
will not wonder that the Directors had assumed civil jurisdiction,
sanctioned flogging, and asked certain agents to act as magistrates. In
a letter which was sent out long after, for the special guidance of the
missionaries, we found the words, “I do not see how you can possibly do
without corporal punishment,[1] and I strongly advise it”. A person on
the spot would see that the criminal thus got more lenient treatment than
he would have received at the hand of his fellows. By the native law of
the district, a thief puts himself beyond the pale of human rights, and
becomes liable to be treated as a leopard. No sooner was that offender
(page 34) taken than certain of the native workmen at Blantyre said,
“Give him to us and we will kill him”. But the punishment of death for
theft, though inflicted by African law, could never be countenanced by
English missionaries. Still it may be said, might they not have thought
of merely confining the criminal? They did think of this, and sometimes
wondered how they could make the imprisonment proportionate to the
offence. These were thefts, often of valuable property as compared
with the native rate of wages, and if the thief were kept till he
wrought even for half the value, he would not be liberated for years!
Though this looks an absurd difficulty, yet it was discussed by some
of these pioneers in a grave manner. Only they seem to have felt that
imprisonment was hardly a punishment at all to the native. He has no fine
susceptibilities, and if he had to do no work, to be housed and cared for
by Europeans, would be the acme of enjoyment to him. In any case the real
punishment of an imprisonment would fall upon the European jailor that
attended the prisoner. In adopting the plan of flogging, I have no doubt
all parties were fully persuaded that the criminal thus received a milder
chastisement than he would have had from his own countrymen.

But strictly speaking the Mission (although this did not appear at
the outset) was wrong in assuming that it had a right to inflict any
punishment at all. The Agents that were instructed to act as Magistrates,
had the general sanction of the African Law and the special consent of
the Native Chiefs, but while they remained British subjects they were
breaking Acts of Parliament which forbade the civil jurisdiction that had
been assumed.

This plan, however, went on without any incident for about a year,
when it terminated[2] as follows:—A native carrier made away with a
box containing about 70 lbs. of tea, and was subjected to the usual
punishment. But in this case the culprit seems to have been given over
to the tender mercies of some natives. Now this might have been quite
justifiable as an experiment in carrying out native law, but it was a
doubtful method on the whole, as it is too common for natives to flog a
person to death for the most trivial offence. It happened in this case,
that the poor fellow died.

The medical man testified that the flogging did not seem to have been
sufficient cause of the death, nor was it suspected at the time that the
unfortunate thief had been beaten with undue severity. But precognitions,
taken long after, went to show that the punishment inflicted was much
too severe. This supposed evidence, however, was not carefully sifted,
and it came from men who were allowed to have an _animus_ against an
artisan who was afterwards found to be entirely innocent. Still the
case gave a lesson to all and sundry regarding the danger of this
method of punishment, and though it was not connected with the Mission
it ultimately shewed the danger of mixing up Mission work with civil
affairs. Such a position as the Church had taken might be necessary in
a lawless land, but the promoters of a colony ought to have considered
exactly how it was to be carried on. Were they to ask an Ordained
Minister to act as a Civil Governor? Such a one if he had the spirit of
a Missionary at all, would find more congenial work, and would reply, “I
cannot come down: why should the work cease, whilst I leave it and come
down to you?” At the same time, if there did arise any suspicion that
criminals were treated with too great severity, it became the duty of
everyone to endeavour to discourage such an administration of justice,
even though he could put nothing in its place.

_Efforts made to find a Clergyman._—Hitherto, the Missionaries at
Blantyre had been laymen, but the Directors tried earnestly to get a
clergyman to join the Mission. In the report of 1877, they say:—

“It is with pain and regret that the Committee have to report that,
notwithstanding many and sustained efforts, they have not succeeded in
obtaining an ordained minister to the Mission. The staff at Blantyre
were sent out to prepare the way for a minister, and, indeed, it was
plain some time would elapse before the services peculiarly called for
at a minister’s hands would be needed. But it is felt the Mission is the
nucleus of a Church, with the minister as the proper head—the instrument
and director of the Christian agency among the people. It was scarcely
dreamed of, that a year would elapse, and yet, notwithstanding many
calls, see the Mission without its spiritual leader. The want, indeed,
is temporally supplied by the charity of the sister Mission (_i.e._, of
the Free Church) but is it not matter of humiliation that no one has come
forth from the ordained ranks of the Church to go to Blantyre in the
spirit of their Master’s love, and to gather into His gentle fold the
thousands of poor and crushed, but docile and willing natives, who are
day and night crying inarticulately for the day of their redemption?”

Even the above touching appeal although most widely circulated had no
effect. On this matter (which we venture to allude to, as bearing greatly
on Mission work), it may be remarked that the difficulty in finding
Missionaries arises chiefly from the position that these men occupy.
Notwithstanding that the Church of Scotland throughout her history has
said much about Presbyterian parity, her Missionaries are placed on a
very inferior footing as compared with her regular Clergy. In using the
word inferior, I do not apply it to the Missionaries themselves (who
have the same training as other clergymen) but only to their position,
although, unfortunately, most young men feel that the footing on which
the Church appoints such Agents gives a key to the value that she sets
upon their work. The Minister of a Parish in Scotland cannot be deprived
of his charge till an accusation is formulated against him, and found
proven by a regular legal process, but the Missionary must put himself
under a Committee of Managers who may dispense with his services at
their pleasure. Hence we rarely hear of any Minister of the Church of
Scotland leaving a home charge for the sake of Mission work, however
urgent, and indeed it is not often that the Church goes in quest of
Ordained Ministers, her Missionary posts being usually filled from the
ranks of students, and students too whose education has been aided by
the Foreign Mission Funds. Another difficulty that meets the Missionary
arises from the want of interest in his work. The Ministers at home are
fully occupied with the affairs of their own charges, and they cannot
be expected to attend to the comparatively insignificant efforts made
abroad, and when they have to think of Foreign Work at all, they lay hold
of the views that lie nearest the surface. It has frequently been the
experience of Missionaries that the ignorance of their true circumstances
was as great as the amount of ocean-water that separated them from their
native land. Shortly after being ordained to a charge in the North
of Scotland, the writer had the Blantyre Mission first brought under
his notice when he received a letter of 12 Nov., 1877, which began as
follows:—

“I have no idea whether the following suggestion may at all commend
itself to you, but I write simply because what I have heard of you is
so favourable that I am confident you would suit on your side, if the
idea should be entertained by you. A clerical head is wanted for our
new Mission in Africa.” But although the necessities of Africa appealed
strongly to every generous impulse, the Missionary Regulations of the
Church seemed to present a barrier to any reasonable adventure on
behalf of that dark land. The missionary requires some guarantee that
he will not be torn away from his work after he sets his heart on it.
At the request of the member of the Mission Committee who had sent me
the letter, I went to meet him, taking with me a copy of the Missionary
Regulations. I pointed out the Rules that I thought objectionable, and
was told that they applied to India and not to Africa at all, and that
my position would be practically that of a parish minister. Receiving
this statement with full confidence, I inferred that the chief enemies
to calculate on now, were discomfort and dishealth. Still such cases
present a dilemma. While a person is convinced that there is a strong
call to mission work abroad, he feels also that much good work may be
done at home. After more pressing representations from headquarters, and
subsequent interviews with devoted men like Dr. MacRae of Hawick, whose
missionary zeal was infectious, I began to feel that my duty was more
clear. But I deliberated much on the matter, and on 1st January, 1878, I
wrote Dr. MacRae not to trust to my going but I said, “I see clearly it
is the duty of some one to go”.

By the middle of January, however, I consented to go to Africa. As it was
deemed very dangerous to encounter the tropical rivers till much later,
our start was deferred till 11th April. By May 4th, we reached Capetown,
where we met Sir Bartle Frere, who takes much interest in Central Africa.
A few days more brought us to Port Elizabeth. Here we received a letter
from Dr. Stewart, of Lovedale, warning us against entering the country at
such a dangerous season. But since we had the promise of our Directors
that the Medical Missionary would meet us at Quilimane, we felt that it
would be unfair to make any European risk his life in waiting for us at
such an unhealthy place, and consequently we pressed on.




CHAPTER VI.

QUILIMANE TO BLANTYRE.


On our journey out we saw little or nothing that calls for remark. Flying
fish and frisking dolphins are great wonders at first, but one soon
gets used to them. Intending travellers sometimes trouble themselves
by speculating about the evils of intense heat and sea-sickness. But
our thoughts went beyond these annoyances, knowing as we did that we
should have to grapple with the malaria of tropical rivers and mangrove
swamps. Still we found it a distressing experience to be shut up in an
underdeck cabin with the port-holes closed. It is a pity that ships have
no apparatus that would shut when the waves come up and open when they
recede: modern mechanics ought to solve this problem. With regard to
sea-sickness, however, we seem with all our science to be no better off
than our fathers. We are told that the motion of the vessel disturbs
“cerebral circulation”. We are thankful for this information, but all the
same we must resolutely keep down our heads on the pillow!

By the 22nd of May, 1878, we passed the mouth of the Zambeze. As we
gazed on the spot where the great river discharges itself into the sea,
well might our thoughts turn back to the time long gone by when the
Portuguese missionaries used to land there. These men had stations all
along the Zambeze before there was any European settlement at Quilimane.
The name Quilimane, or more correctly Quelimane (Kwelimani) is said to
represent two native words which mean “Come and hoe”. This derivation
I heard from the Portuguese, and I have no hesitation in preferring it
to one given by Captain Burton, which would make the name mean “From
the hillock”. “Kwe-limani” might almost mean “Come and hoe” in the
Yao language. The tradition is that an old missionary found out the
place, which was then under a native chieftainess; and on requesting
her permission to settle, he was told that he might “come and hoe”. The
native name for Quilimane is Chuambo, which other dialects make Chuabo
and Chiwambo. The old missionaries worked hard, and in course of time
they had a convent of considerable importance at Quilimane. But many are
the changes that take place amidst the lapse of centuries—the Quilimane
river now flows over this consecrated ground. The church of Luabo at the
mouth of the Zambeze was the victim of a similar fate. Houses “built
on the sand” are peculiarly unstable on the margin of a great tropical
river. Alas! those missionary efforts of the remote past have left no
trace behind them except in a few chants still sung by the boatmen
of Mazaro, who keep time with their paddles to the tune of some old
missionary hymn. One of the greatest favourites begins “Sina mama, sina
baba,” and the burden of it is “I have no father, I have no mother:
thou, O Mary, art our mother”. We were told that the belfry of the church
of Luabo stood out in the middle of the broad Zambeze long after the rest
of the building was submerged. The natives would not allow the old bell
to be taken away—it was to them a kind of patron saint, and might, amidst
all their superstition, carry them back to a time when the Portuguese
tried to reach their hearts by something more sacred than merchandise
or military discipline. All that we had heard of Quilimane led us to
believe that it was one of the most unhealthy and undesirable places in
the world. Livingstone speaks of it as a mangrove swamp, and we knew that
some of his European followers had died there and been buried, although,
as we afterwards discovered, the natives did not allow them to rest long
in the grave. Even the Portuguese have to watch the graves of their
kindred for several weeks—a circumstance which does not prepossess one in
favour of the native population. With regard to the European inhabitants
we learned that Quilimane had been used as a penal settlement, and that
every second person we should meet must either be a convict himself or a
descendant of convicts. Then as to its comforts, one of our countrymen
who had visited the place complained that he had been charged an
exorbitant sum for accommodation not good enough for a cow.

On the 23rd of May, our steamer anchored at the mouth of the Quilimane
river—a distance of twelve miles from the town. We found to our great
disappointment that no one had come from the Mission to meet us. But
we soon got into a small boat manned by Africans and proceeded up the
river. Our black boatmen were hearty fellows, and every few minutes
they struck up a lively song. The noise was something terrific! But we
were delighted with their wild chants, which seemed to afford equal
pleasure to the singers. I saw one man prepare a cigar, and just as he
was proceeding to smoke, another song was begun. I watched with interest
to see whether he would prefer his pipe to the music. At first he seemed
disposed to try both; but soon he decided in favour of the song, and
laid aside his twisted tobacco leaf. After we had rowed for about two
miles, our boat captain shouted “Inglez” (Englishman)—and pointed to an
“Englishman” coming down the river in another boat. There is a proverb
that every Englishman found on this coast is sure to be a Scotchman,
and it proved true on this occasion. We had the pleasure of meeting a
Scotch gentleman—Mr. Fairlie—who had been hunting on the Zambeze, and
who was now hasting down to meet the steamer. From him we learned that
in Quilimane there was only one person that could speak English—hence
we could see that our society would be very select. By the time that we
arrived, it was dark. As the river had a broad border of mud, in which
the natives were sinking over the knees, we could not step on _terra
firma_, but had to be taken out of the boat on the shoulders of two
negroes. A palanquin was brought for the lady. We now met Senhor Nunes,
the British Consul, who received us kindly and conducted us to the hotel.
Here our wants were attended to by half-a-dozen little black boys and one
young girl who acted as housekeeper. At first we were greatly startled
at the scantiness of their dress, but we became accustomed to them, and
found them careful and attentive. The hotel accommodation was much better
than we had been led to expect. No doubt charges must be high, as it is
difficult to bring provisions to this “outlandish” place. There is not
even a butcher in Quilimane, and at dinner here, as in many other African
places, the first course is fowls, the second course fowls, and the
third course fowls. Occasionally, we were treated to delicious shrimps
and prawns with which the river abounds. We were soon informed that the
Mission boats had not come down and that we should have to wait for ten
or fifteen days. Wait in Quilimane for fifteen days! We were stunned by
the very idea of this, believing that it was certain death to spend a
week in this dreadful place. We were full of bright plans in those days.
A messenger must be sent on at once to Blantyre to tell the missionaries
of our arrival, and to request them to come to our aid. Amidst our
anxiety we did not perceive how ridiculous our proposal was. Why, it
was as if a man had been despatched from John o’ Groats to Yorkshire
six hundred years ago. After such a messenger had passed through all
the ‘Grants, Mackenzies, and Mackays’—all the wild Highland clans and
fighting Lowland chiefs, very little of him would have been left; and so
our devoted messenger, after going on for about a week, wisely stopped
short at Mazaro.

Our objection was not to the people or to the hotel and its fare—but to
the place; we wanted to get out of Quilimane. The Portuguese we found
exceedingly kind to us, the only part of their sympathy that we did
not relish was when they remarked that Quilimane might, after all, be a
better place than Blantyre. Consumptive people were able to tell us that
after being sent to Madeira without any benefit, they had recovered at
once on coming to Quilimane. The town, built on the site first chosen
by the missionary on account of the harbour, bids fair to become a
flourishing place. It stands on an island: for besides the Quilimane
river and another twelve miles further north, there is a third river
connecting these two. So level is the country that this river flows
sometimes in one direction and sometimes in the opposite—a phenomenon
which the Portuguese are fond of pointing to as an explanation of the
conflicting statements of travellers in the interior, one of whom states
that a river flows north while another asserts that it flows south. The
Portuguese treat the natives with kindness, although they keep them at
a respectable distance. Their domestics live in whole families at the
back of the houses. When a visitor takes a walk in the country, he is
quite astonished at the multitude of natives that have crowded round
the Portuguese. I marched on for miles before coming to the end of
these villages—a circumstance which shows how much the natives prefer
the government of the white man to the misrule of their own chiefs.
But the Portuguese believe that the native is not capable of much
improvement, and they assert this opinion with the greatest confidence.
As we reflected that they had been face to face with the natives for
generations, we were somewhat discouraged by the conclusions formed by
these acute and practical Europeans.

Language is a great difficulty here. In order to get on at Quilimane one
requires to know both Portuguese and Kafir (or Ichuabo as the natives
call it). We felt as strange as the foreigner, who, being unable to
communicate with any one, was deprived of all human sympathy; at last he
heard a cock crow when he exclaimed, “Ah! poor fowl, you are the only
one that understands me”. It is a considerable trial for one to be in a
country where he understands no human utterance except perhaps the cries
of a child. In every way it is a great change to be transported from the
snows of the North into the heart of tropical scenery and many are the
thoughts called forth by the transition. Here the very birds seemed to
sing in a foreign tongue. We were ready to sympathise with the stanza:—

    “The palm-tree waveth high,
    And fair the myrtle springs,
    And to the Indian Maid
    The bulbul sweetly sings.

    But I dinna see the broom
    Wi’ its tassels on the lea;
    Nor hear the lintie’s sang
    O’ my ain countrie.”

It would not have been correct to add with reference to Quilimane,

    “Ah! here no Sabbath bell
    Awakes the Sabbath morn,”

for there was one very active bell, whose tones were heard almost every
day. Opposite our abode stood a small Roman Catholic Church, and all
the bodies of the deceased Portuguese were taken here for the funeral
service. The negroes do not receive Christian burial. We asked whether
they had any worship of God, and the answer was, “No, No, the Kafirs are
like brutes, but the missionaries are teaching them in the interior”.
The natives work on Sundays as on other days. They are splendid porters,
they carry everything on their heads,—even weights of 70 pounds; nor do
they dash boxes as is often done at railway stations in Britain. They are
never in haste about anything. They consider sixpence a day very good
wages. As they wear no clothes and get food easily, they have hardly any
motives to work, and when they obtain a few coppers they generally spend
them in rum. There being no carts or horses at Quilimane, many natives
were employed in carrying enormous trees, each of which required about 30
bearers. Every party was accompanied by a man with a whip who seemed to
have as hard work as any of them!

We were detained for nearly four weeks at Quilimane. Often did we stand
and look up the river to see whether the Mission boats were coming,
and even after they did come there was much delay. A journey to the
coast occupied from six to eight weeks and was seldom undertaken by the
Missionaries. Consequently it was always desirable to take up to Blantyre
as much goods as possible. It is at Quilimane that strangers first
realize the nakedness of the land they are going to, and here they have
the last opportunity of buying anything.

The merchants are Banians, and the prices are three times the rate of
goods in England. There is not only great expense but also great risk
in taking goods to such a remote place. Many articles that would not
cost fourpence at home were charged a rupee here. “It only costs 4d. in
England,” says the buyer. “Oh yes, in England! Well you—my brother, I’ll
give it for two shilling!”

We all suffered more or less from our stay at Quilimane. One morning
none of our party was able to be at breakfast but myself, and I was far
from well. As I thought of the terrible journey that lay before us, I
concluded that our lives were not worth much. In this land one is much
impressed with the uncertainty of time. I knew a Missionary that made
no secret of carrying, on every journey, a box containing a will—more I
suppose as a matter of form than because a poor Missionary has anything
to bequeath.

Besides making many friends among the Portuguese gentlemen, we found that
our landlord’s black servants began to take to us very much. They seemed
to wish to go to Blantyre in a body. Of course we endeavoured to dissuade
them from leaving their master, and took pains to explain both to him
and to themselves that we did not want them at all. But one boy Lasertha
whose father lived at a great distance up the Quilimane river, took the
matter in his own hands. He disappeared about a week before we started,
and one day after we had forgotten all about him, he and his father came
to us, and it was arranged that Lasertha should join our party.


_From Quilimane to Mazaro._

It was the afternoon of the 18th of June before we started from
Quilimane. We were taken up the river in small boats, propelled by
paddles. A grass awning was put up to defend us from the rays of the sun.
The sides of the river being lined for many yards with deep layers of
mud, we had to be carried to and from the boats on the shoulders of the
negroes who were liable to fall, and we therefore made the journey as
seldom as possible.

When we came to the place where we were to pass the night, the boats were
pushed towards the side of the river, till grounded on the mud. As we
suffered from thirst, we tried most eagerly to procure drinking water—but
none could be found. At this wretched spot there had once been a village,
but its inhabitants had run away on account of lions, and their well had
dried up. The river was quite salt, but the natives dug a hole with their
hands and feet in the dirty mud at the side and procured some water which
we had to use for cooking. In those days we possessed a big black kettle
which served as a tea pot: it was sometimes my duty to empty this vessel
and I can testify that there was often fully an inch of mud in the bottom
after our tea had been poured off!

This was the first night that we spent beyond the limits of civilization.
Our cork beds were now spread out for the first time. Though we
afterwards found them convenient, we had hitherto been used to a softer
couch, and might as well have tried to sleep on a section of Caithness
pavement. Soon our rest was disturbed by other causes. When the tide
ebbed, we were left on a mud bank far out of the river. The mosquitoes
scented fresh blood, and attacked us in hundreds. We had already endured
these little pests for four weeks at Quilimane. There every night as
soon as the sun set we became their special prey. At first, they rather
astonished us by showing that they could bite through a thick pair of
trousers, though ultimately we became more familiar with them. But the
mosquitoes of Quilimane were feeble compared with those of the desert.
Moreover, we found it difficult to arrange beds and mosquito-curtains
in the small space that was at our disposal. Consequently we suffered
much from their attack—our faces were so bitten and swollen that we
could hardly recognise each other. After spending three or four hours
in trying to sleep, we passed a unanimous resolution that sleep was
impossible, and as a measure of desperation we spent the remainder of
the night in proposing riddles to each other! Next morning, as soon
as the tide flowed, we resumed our miserable journey. We had to sit
patiently under our curtains till the sun rose and drove the mosquitoes
away. During these imprisonments we sometimes debated why the book of
Exodus says nothing about the trouble that the Israelites must have had
from mosquitoes in the wilderness, only we were inclined to think that
these followers of Moses must have been as impregnable as the natives
around us. Besides our curtains we tried another method of repelling
this troublesome foe. We kept pieces of twisted paper smouldering by
us, and the disagreeable smoke held the mosquitoes at bay. We were now
far beyond the region of daily or even weekly newspapers, and when our
supply of paper was exhausted, we burnt pieces of cloth. This method of
defence was soon brought into discredit; one of the party lighted a cloth
without twisting it sufficiently, and it suddenly flared up and set his
mosquito curtain on fire! During the day as the boats moved wearily along
we lay under our grass awning in a little space where we had scarcely
room to turn. Our nights were extremely uncomfortable. While the angry
mosquitoes were buzzing outside our curtains, the negroes were constantly
talking and beating drums to frighten the wild beasts. As we proceeded up
the river the water became very low, and our crew had to go out and put
their shoulders to the boat in order to force it over sandbanks and along
shallows. This was tedious work; but the richness of tropical life and
scenery unfolded itself around us. Amidst the vast tangle of bushes and
branches there sat birds of bright plumage which gazed on us as tamely
as if man had never before disturbed their solitude. At certain spots,
enormous flocks of wild fowl retreated in terror as we approached. Here
and there a monkey surveyed us for a moment from the branches of some
giant tree, and then hid itself among the dense thickets. When night let
her curtain fall on the scene, the banks of the river were illuminated
with fire-flies, which made every tuft of grass shine and sparkle.

[Illustration: WOMEN OF MAZARO DRAWING WATER.]

Soon the water was so shallow that we had to leave our boats altogether
at Mugurumbe. Here we slept one night in a native hut. Our journey
was continued next day in palanquins: about six natives were told off
to carry each European. Owing to the heat of the climate none of the
Portuguese here ever walk. Even when they are going short distances, they
employ natives to carry them. The road is about two feet wide, and lined
on both sides with African grass (which rises to a height sometimes of
ten feet) and also with many varieties of flowers, shrubs and grasses,
some of which were brought before our notice very forcibly, as the men
rattled along without thinking of their living load. At times we came
to patches of cultivated ground, and then we knew that we were near a
village. The villagers welcomed us by a loud clapping of hands. They
looked much delighted when we responded to their welcome in their own
way. They seemed to feel as if we spoke in their own tongue, and at one
village they repaid our condescension (as they thought it) by sending out
volunteers to help on our palanquins. At Mazaro we got our first look
of the Zambeze, and a magnificent river it is. Though not very deep, at
this spot it is exceedingly broad—the natives take an hour to sail across
it. Here our steel boat awaited us, and a welcome sight it was after
the small boats that we had hitherto had. We had now reached another
important stage, and we expected to complete our journey in three weeks.
The first week we should be among Portuguese subjects, the second in the
country of a Portuguese outlaw, while the third week would find us among
the people we were to christianise.

_From Mazaro to Makukani’s._—Leaving Mazaro on Tuesday, 25th June,
we committed ourselves to the water once more. The navigation of the
Zambeze is by no means easy. Generally we were sticking upon sandbanks.
Our boatmen were seldom able to use their oars, they had either to push
the boat by long poles, or to drag it along the banks with a rope. Here
and there there is a deep channel, but the current is so strong that it
promises to carry everything down to the sea.

We expected to reach Shupanga on the first night. It is here that Mrs.
Livingstone lies under the large baobab tree. But we did not get so far,
and, as the channel of the river has changed, we passed next morning on
the other side. Mrs. Macdonald was disappointed at this, as she wished
to place a wreath of flowers upon the lonely grave. Neither did we see
Bishop Mackenzie’s last resting-place, as it was late at night when we
passed the spot. The natives perceiving that we felt an interest in these
graves, spoke of them with an air of solemnity. Our boatmen were all from
Mazaro, and ought to have known something of Livingstone while he stayed
at Shupanga. We produced a portrait of him on the lid of a match-box, and
fondly hoped they might recognise it!

On June 28th, we reached Shamo, where Dr. Macklin wished to buy a score
of cows for the Mission. As our big boat was apt to fall behind, he sent
us on before, proposing to overtake us in a few days. Soon we were on
the river Shire (more properly Chiri) which is narrower and deeper than
the Zambeze.[3] Here the boatmen used their oars oftener. On getting
a favourable wind they put up a small sail, but as sails are not a
native contrivance, their method of using them was not very assuring.
Notwithstanding the force of the current we made fair progress, but
we waited longer at every landing place, in order to be overtaken by
the rest of the party. Thus we had a better opportunity of seeing the
country. One night we walked over to see a celebrated hot spring at the
base of Morumbala. Still, we had a salutary dread of making ourselves
too much at home in this malarious region. Three or four of our men in
succession, suffered from fever, and as the Doctor was behind, I had to
try my hand at making pills. The natives receive our medicine with such
implicit faith that the cure is half effected the moment they swallow
it. I took care, above all things, not to give them anything too weak.
We used saline draughts both for ourselves and the natives. In malarial
climes there is a craving for such beverages. One medical man told us
that seidlitz powders required to be labelled ‘poison’ as otherwise they
disappeared like magic.

[Illustration: NATIVES CUTTING UP A HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR FOOD.]

Along the Chiri we saw many hippopotami and crocodiles. The former are
hunted by the natives for their flesh, the latter are killed on account
of their venomous character. When any of these creatures appeared, the
men were very anxious that I should fire on them, and as we never slept
soundly at night, the shooting was an agreeable excitement which revived
us for the day. One hippopotamus came against our boat with all its
might, and gave us a shock which would have certainly upset a smaller
craft. After passing, it looked back as if to see how much damage it had
done. At times we had much conversation with the “boys”. They formed a
singing class, and made rapid progress. There were with us, Bismarck,
Armasao, Lasertha, and Rondao. Bismarck was the philosopher of the party.
The boatmen have a habit of whistling for wind, and he explained it thus,
“When you have a friend far away, you call on him when you wish him to
come”. But notwithstanding their whistling, the wind was often slow in
coming. At midnight on the 5th of July, we were awakened by an awful
screaming. My first impression was that we were drifting down the river,
while the boys were trying to awaken us. I was surprised at this, since
I had taken special pains with the anchor that night. But as the noise
continued, I perceived that it was a terrible cry of distress—at the same
time the dog we had brought from Quilimane (which was known by the name
of Elton), was barking furiously. Before I had time to understand the
situation, little Lasertha shouted out in a voice tremulous with fear, “O
master, master, take my hand”. This he said in Portuguese. Then Bismarck
entered by the stern of the boat. “What is it, Bismarck?” “Lions, lions.”
“Are all the men in the boat?” “No.” For the first time in my life, there
flashed across my mind the depth of meaning expressed by the simile
of “the roaring-lion, seeking whom he may devour”. My rifle which lay
loaded beside me, I at once discharged, not with the idea of shooting
the lions, which could not be well seen in the darkness, but in order to
scare them. Most of the men were in the boat in a moment. They acted with
great presence of mind. I often wondered why in the excitement they had
not tried to pull the boat ashore before raising the anchor! All swam to
the boat with the exception of Armasao, who waited till it was pulled
nearer. He seemed more afraid of the crocodiles in the water, than of
the lions on the bank. Of course, beds and cooking gear were left behind
in the terrible race for life. After all were safe, the lions set up a
hideous roaring, which continued for hours. I asked whether Elton was in
the boat, and understood he was. But when we put back in the morning,
Bismarck called out in a piteous voice, “Elton die!” and held up the dead
creature before me. He had not been devoured by the lion, and the body
had no mark except in the region of the heart. This noble dog had been
the means of saving the life of at least one of our men. He began to bark
as the lions were coming through the long grass, and as soon as the first
one presented itself he ran to attack. By this time the men were entirely
at the lion’s mercy, but for the diversion caused by the dog. As it was,
the spot where Elton lay dead was just at the side of Bismarck’s bed. In
fact, the dog was lying dead almost at Armasao’s feet before he was safe
himself. If this had been a native dog, he would have been the first to
flee. The little incident sometimes served to illustrate among simple
natives, how one being might die to save others. All our companions had
been much alarmed, but none more so than one of the little boys, who told
us that one evening as he sat with a group at his own home, a lion dashed
into the circle and killed a man.

We had still great trouble from mosquitoes. As soon as it was dusk they
were upon us in full force. We would ask a little boy to light some
grass, and as it kept smouldering beside us, the smoke filled the boat,
and made it easier to take our evening meal. The boatful of smoke, though
not pleasant, was more acceptable than mosquito bites.

Some evenings we encountered great shoals of white moths. They fell upon
the boat as thick as snowflakes. One night I lighted a candle and such
were their numbers that they extinguished it several times before I could
put it into the lantern. Those harmless creatures were very short lived,
and in the morning the boat was literally covered with their dead bodies.

Along the Chiri the scenery is for the most part monotonous, but at times
we see beautiful ranges of mountains, some of which call up memories of
a distant land. We observed sharp-pointed conical hills like the Pap
of Caithness, craggy mountains like Arthur’s Seat, and no end of those
common rounded hills with oval tops.

On the _8th of July_ we descried a large herd of elephants. We had
observed a few on previous days, but here was a herd of about forty.
Such an instinct have the natives for meat (nyama) that they were out of
the boat and standing close beside these huge animals in a few moments.
One lad went up to an elephant and deliberately fired several revolver
shots at his head. The great monster merely shook himself, and moved off
with his companions. The boys pursued for some distance, but returned
complaining that elephants had very thick skins. The natives do not fear
the elephant as they do the lion.

On the 10th we arrived at Makukani’s, where we left our boats. We met
with a most enthusiastic welcome here. About three hundred natives were
on the banks, and Bismarck said, “It is to see the white lady”. By this
time, we were among people who understood _yes_ and _no_, and said “good
morning”. They were quite as fortunate in the use of their salutations as
our friends had been at Quilimane. It was common there for a gentleman
to _introduce_ himself in the evening by holding out his hand and saying
_good night_, instead of good evening, greatly to the amusement of such
of his friends as knew more of English. Intercourse with foreigners calls
attention to the peculiarities of our own idiom. When we say to a native,
“Now, look out,” he is very likely to look _out_, and thus expose himself
to the very danger that he is warned against. If he had warned himself,
he would have said ‘look _in_.’ One morning Ropa burnt my hand through my
telling him to ‘hold on,’ when I wanted him to let go. He did ‘hold on’
most faithfully. At this place people came great distances to meet us.
They had heard that Englishmen were come, and the new arrivals had been
announced in such a way as to convey the impression that the Rev. Horace
Waller had come back. Accordingly we had a visit from an old woman,
accompanied by a man and woman much younger, who had all been members
of the Magomero Mission. The old woman looked round to see if she could
recognise “Atate anga, atate anga” (My father, my father,—meaning Mr.
Waller), and when she failed she looked disappointed, and said in a kind
of despairing inquiry, “There is no coming back for my father again?” She
had no pelele, and on asking the reason we were told that Mr. Waller had
taken it out. We soon discovered that the natives were great beggars.
At the beginning of our river journey we were beset with people who
requested rum (kachaso), here the cry was chiefly for cloth: it was only
the men at the top of the social scale that begged for rum! The chief
Makukani was a stout man, somewhat bent, and blind of an eye. He could be
easily distinguished from his men, as his dress was even scantier than
theirs. He expressed an earnest desire that the English would bring out
a white wife for him. He has an enormous harem in which we saw one or
two men armed with knob-sticks, whose duty, we were told, was to keep
order among his wives. He promised to send his sons and daughters to
school, but this was only the promise of politeness. His sons had been
already at Livingstonia, where they had proved rather troublesome, and
two years elapsed before they came to Blantyre. We occupied one of the
chiefs huts all night, and started next afternoon for the Chiri hills.
The carriers were at first likely to leave us at a spot where there was
no roof to sleep under except the canopy of heaven, but on learning that
Mr. Buchanan was at the Kabula we made them push on to reach him. Mrs.
Macdonald arrived first, and by the time I came up she was in possession
of his snug little tent. Next morning he went down to meet Dr. Macklin.
By this time I discovered that I had lost a small pocket diary; and it
is worth saying that though lost among the wildest-looking hills, it was
found by a native and restored with all that it contained. I began at
once to extol the honesty of the negroes! But the circumstance is easily
understood when one considers that a ‘paper’ is of no use to a native. On
Friday the 12th of July, we started from the Kabula at eight o’clock, and
continued our journey through wild and beautiful scenery. Our progress
was much interrupted, and often one of the natives would use his hatchet
to cut down small trees that obstructed the path. The sun was exceedingly
hot and the palanquins had no shade over them. We also found that we
could get no water to quench our burning thirst. When on the Chiri we
had drunk freely of its waters, ignorant of the number of criminals
that are thrown into this Tophet by the Magololo. About mid-day we came
up to a beautiful stream. Mrs. Macdonald had reached it more exhausted
than myself, and I found her fast asleep under a tree. We had started
without much breakfast, but we carried a pocketful of boiled eggs for
lunch, and partook of them by the side of this mountain stream. At four
o’clock we reached Blantyre. Mrs. Macdonald was a few yards in advance,
and received a hearty welcome from a crowd of native men and women who
were in the square expecting our arrival. It was three months since we
had left England. We were exceedingly tired after such a long journey,
and welcomed a night’s rest. All along I had kept a loaded gun by my
side, which I now wished to get rid of. The artisan opened his eyes at my
proposal, and said it had been judged safest to sleep with weapons beside
us. That very night our slumbers were broken by a great commotion during
which we heard the report of a gun. We were prepared to find that some
enemy had come, but it was only a leopard that had carried off a young
pig.

On Sunday we had a short service in English and two native meetings. At
the meetings the schoolroom was quite full. No Englishman in the country
ventures to use the native language, all rely on the interpreters. On
Monday there were over twenty pupils in school, some reading small books
and making letters on slates; others learning the alphabet.

After the heat experienced on the river, we felt Blantyre quite cold
especially in the morning and evening. We were very thankful that we
had enjoyed good health on the whole. We were the first party that had
travelled from Quilimane to Blantyre without suffering from fever by the
way.

It was a few days before we got our baggage, and Makukani had possessed
himself of some valuables that had been sent out for the Mission. We
had come out with a very high opinion of the brave native kings, but
incidents of this kind were fitted to destroy the enchantment. Before
leaving home I had asked very anxiously what we were to do if a native
caught a white man and put him in a dungeon. I was told that the rest
of the staff would know how to manage all that. This was quite correct
for their years of experience in the country gave them the practical
tact necessary in dealing with the strange people about them. On this
occasion they imprisoned several of Makukani’s men and took their guns
from them. In order to get back his guns, the chief sent up all the
missing articles, which would have been entirely lost but for this prompt
measure. The belief at the Mission was that these chiefs would take
everything if they thought that they had more power than the Missionaries.




CHAPTER VII.

THE MISSION STATION.


Fortunately we had seen too much of Africa to expect a carpeted room
and a cushioned chair at Blantyre. We had slept so often in “shielins”
incomparably worse than a Scotch hen-house, that we did not care what
kind of roof covered us. “If you want to make a man happy,” it is said,
“strive not to increase his comforts but to lessen his desires.” An
experience like ours recommended the proverb; and as we stood for a
minute (we would have sat if there had been a spare chair) “glowrin
frae’s” in what we might call our own “fowl-house,” we saw that we should
have many opportunities for exercising self-denial. When our friends in
Scotland had tried to dissuade us from going to Africa, they had pointed
out how prudent the men were who go no farther in mission work than to
address drawing-room meetings. Still, we were quite contented. We had
been promised the prayerful sympathy of the Church at home, and now we
knew most of our difficulties. At least we thought so, and were happy,
but “Dici beatus ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet”. Blantyre,
although highly praised at home, did not possess many attractions for
the newcomer. On our first introduction to the manse we perceived that
it contained two rooms. In the larger of these there was nothing but a
huge table, which was noteworthy in many respects. It was the only one
we had seen for a month, and with the exception of a board used by the
artisans, it was the only table within a hundred miles. It had to serve
too in surgical cases: when any poor native had to undergo an operation,
it was on this that the doctors had to place him. The smaller room we
may describe as a bedroom, though when we were first ushered into it, it
contained neither bedstead nor bed, and boasted only of one small chair
of the rudest description. In our hut there were two doors, but neither
of them had a lock, and one had no fastening at all. When we learned that
thieves and wild beasts were frequent visitors, we began to barricade
doors and windows with chairs, books, and buckets. At this moment,
however, as our luggage had not yet arrived, we were safe from theft,
unless we should be served as were certain members of the Universities’
Mission, who had their very coat buttons cut off. There were three other
inhabited houses built on the same plan as ours, but none of them were
so well furnished! While there was one efficient door in the manse, and
perhaps another in the doctor’s house, the artisans’ had no doors at all,
but mattings of grass were propped up in the doorways at night. Chairs
were a great rarity; I do not think there were more than four in the
whole station, old boxes doing duty instead.

[Illustration: THE BLANTYRE MISSION.]

But although our houses were only mud huts they had an English finish
about them and were very acceptable to those that had wandered so long.
Writing at this time I said:—“The present houses promise to last only
for about three years, so that in a short time we must make brick,
with a view to more permanent dwellings. Rats and white ants annoy
us considerably. With the former we are constantly at war, assisted
by traps, and cats, and a tame owl. Sometimes a gun is used when
half-a-dozen of them may be killed by a single discharge. They are so
troublesome from their great numbers, that we must try phosphorus paste
or some such poison. White ants come up through the floor, and attack
books or clothes, rendering them quite useless in a single night. When
a person wants a skeleton for a specimen, he has only to put down the
animal near these ants, and in a short time he finds nothing but the
bones. Smaller ants creep everywhere. One method of placing our food
out of their reach is to put it in a box suspended by a rope from the
ceiling. In our house there was, by and by, an apology for a cupboard
the legs of which had to be placed in water, but notwithstanding this
precaution these insects made a bridge over the bodies of their drowned
companions and covered our breakfast fowl in such numbers that the fowl
itself actually could not be seen. One of their most annoying tricks
is to visit a sleeper in bed. More terrible still are the large red
ants (salau). Their attack has made many a traveller leave his bed and
stand in the smoke of a fire for the remainder of the night. They bite
furiously, and do not let go their hold even after the head is severed
from their body. When a European happens to stand among them he has to
rush into the house at once, and divest himself of all his clothing.
After he has apparently destroyed all his enemies, he has some difficulty
in taking their heads away from his skin. According to the natives they
will kill an elephant. Entering his nostrils they cause such irritation
that the animal commits suicide by dashing against trees and rocks; and
then the ants enjoy the carcase. They attack their victims with much
skill, waiting till they have spread themselves all over his body, and
then working by well understood signals. When on the march, the smaller
ants go in the middle, while the larger who are the ‘soldiers’ line the
sides. On a disturbance the soldiers hasten to the scene of danger. The
average line of march is hardly an inch broad but may be half a mile
long. They go very closely probably about 30 being on every square inch.
When they threaten to enter a house the best way of diverting them is by
putting fire on their path. Sometimes the Missionaries had to stand a
siege for a few hours from these formidable armies.”

The Mission Station was situated on a knoll, and well exposed to all the
cool breezes. The wind is never high; seldom can a man get his hat blown
off. But occasionally there are whirlwinds which toss native baskets in
the air to a height of several feet. A “cloudless sky” has been often
mentioned as a characteristic of a happy land, but here one does not
appreciate the metaphor. There are large grasshoppers which the natives
catch for food, as also many small birds which the schoolboys shoot with
blunted arrows.

_African Fever._ All of us, not excepting the doctor himself, paid the
penalty for passing through the fever region. We thought that after
reaching Blantyre our troubles were to be at an end. A week passes after
our arrival, and still no fever; surely we are all right now. Only let
a man get a chill, and he will soon discover. A person passes along our
clay floors without his boots of a morning, and the thing is done,—he
may take any preventive measure he chooses, but the fever will take its
course.

Our illness began ten days after our arrival, and we were laid aside
for about three weeks. During this time all the other Europeans on the
Station were also ill, and no one was able to take care of another.
Dr. Macklin often rose from a sick bed to do what he could. One of our
greatest difficulties was to get food. The cooking of the natives when
left to themselves exceeded anything we had yet encountered. Besides, the
black people did not understand a word we said. If we asked for a glass
of milk they would bring a tin of biscuits, after that they would try
a tin of butter, and then in despair they would bring in an armful of
books! But it is when the invalid begins to recover that he misses the
comforts of his native land. There are certain things that a sick man
must have at home that he cannot get here: he sees this at once and there
is no use of fretting over it. Not only is the invalid bereft of home
comforts, but he is subjected to a great many annoyances. He hears the
jackals and the hyænas screaming round the station, and a single night is
sufficient to convince him that these creatures have most powerful lungs.
Besides, a lion may be sitting coolly in the verandah. The roads round
the mission are marked each morning with the footprints of animals of all
kinds. The station is just in the middle of a dense bush, which has not
been cleared farther than was absolutely necessary. As one looks out at a
window he may see large buck at about 100 yards from him.

_Artisans._—The first thing that struck us as we approached the station,
was the paleness of the four or five Englishmen that were standing to
welcome us. The effect of this was heightened by their contrast with
the hundreds of black faces that surrounded them. Members of the Free
Church Mission were there too. Most of the young men felt their isolated
position, all had suffered severely from fever, and already death had
been thinning their ranks. An air of stillness, not to say of sadness,
overhung the place. After we had recovered from attacks of fever; there
was a magic lantern entertainment, where through an interpreter I acted
as demonstrator. I can never forget Dr. Macklin’s remark, that “there
was more fun and laughing that night, both among natives and Europeans,
than he had seen since the Mission began”. The men were all of that age
when hope is strongest in the human soul, but they had met with much to
discourage them. As the dawn of Christmas morn reminded a man of the
festivities of the season, and of his friends in the far off home, he
found himself lying in bed overcome by weakness, but obliged to hold up
an umbrella to shield his blankets from the rain. All had felt what it is
to undergo long periods of sickness while destitute of every comfort. The
Directors at home, who were entrusted with the Church collections found
it necessary to cut down the Mission expenditure. The poor fellows in
Africa, though separated from friends and weakened by sickness, had this
grim fact ever staring them in the face. The watchword was, “Man, think
of the bawbees at the Kirk door!” On one occasion, it had been settled
that they must retrench. They could not afford to pay the ordinary price
for fowls. On Christmas morning a native came to the Mission, wishing
to sell a beautiful cock. It seemed as if Providence had designed them
a special treat for the festive season. They began to try to purchase
this “tambala,” but, alas, the owner was obstinate. He expected the old
price. Economy was supreme, but said one, “I was very sorry as I looked
after the man going away with our dinner!”

These hardships naturally caused irritation and discontent. The party for
the Government, while making the best of the circumstances, had often to
face the hungry Opposition—and the proverb says, “A hungry man’s an angry
man”. The speech, “Now, you must not think that I am standing over the
provisions like a dog set to keep you from them,” would call forth the
reply, “It looks very like it!” But the evil was beyond the power of the
Government and the Opposition, both parties being to some extent made
victims. Such evils generally begin at home. Persons sent out are told
that everything will be done to mitigate their hard lot. Bright promises
are held before their eyes, perhaps not by the Directors formally,
but by certain of their members. Some of these would be found in the
young men’s path at every turning, loudly shouting, “Peace and plenty”.
I know nothing more painful than the action of such irresponsible
go-betweens. The Directors as a body, cannot, of course, approach the
various individuals. What they do, is to refer in an off-hand manner
to some of their most zealous members, who take upon them the task of
giving information, without first informing themselves, and the result
is the most complete deception. Promises are made in good faith, and
seem most reasonable in themselves, but the very men that volunteer to
give such pledges, have no power to fulfil them, and once the man is
abroad, he finds that he has been outwitted. Such hardships as are
inevitable, are often a milder item in Mission life, and are always borne
with greater cheerfulness, than such as are inflicted through culpable
misrepresentation and carelessness.

Men whose hearts are not in the work have little patience during such
trials, while even earnest workers are liable to be made discontented
while always hearing the grumbling of others, and knowing that it is not
without cause. Still amidst much to dishearten them these poor fellows
had their day dreams. Hope, the last goddess to forsake the miserable,
hovered about their home in the desert. A good story is told of a small
party whose walk brought them by chance to the banks of a beautiful
rivulet. Amidst the impressive vastness of the African forest, and all
the rare scenes of a new country, their hearts were ready to admit
most brilliant hopes. As one of them looked about the rivulet he fell
on something whose effect was magical. All at once his manner became
dignified, the tones of his voice changed, at last he had found a balm
for his sorrows. “It’s gold! yes, gold! we need never lift a hammer
again.” But alas! the vision of splendour was not realized. It gave place
to the usual wrangling about rations, and the proverb “Golden dreams make
one awake hungry” was painfully appropriate.

It is most essential for a Church to see that when a band of artisans is
sent to places so isolated, every cause of irritation should be avoided;
when this is not done the results may be serious. When a great play is
acted on this world’s theatre it is one thing to sit as a spectator, and
another to be admitted behind the scenes. When I read, as a little boy,
of Waterloo, and such celebrated battles, I thought everything connected
with the victorious party must be great, and good, and glorious,—that
every soldier and officer must be a model of virtue and excellence.
But once I met with a Waterloo veteran, and my pre-conceived opinions
received a cruel shock. This man told me with the greatest complacency,
as if it had been the merest matter of course, that soldiers were put
under the strictest discipline, that many of them were men that required
this, that frequent quarrels took place, and that many a soldier welcomed
a battle as an opportunity for killing not the public enemy, but some
private enemy who belonged to his own side and fought in his own
regiment! Though man has heavenward aspirations, it is true, alas! that
he standeth upon the earth.

We arrived at Blantyre at a very critical period of the Mission’s
history. A few months before, an able Missionary on quitting the
settlement, said that he left it either to “sink or swim,” and hinted
that the former alternative was not improbable. Many of the artisans did
not wish to continue in the service of the Mission, believing that they
would find it better to become traders and chiefs among the natives.

All the artisans had an enormous influence in the country. In the service
of the Mission, they had hundreds of native workmen under their charge.
In a private capacity each had one or two black butlers, not to speak of
cooks and clothes-washers! Some were large landed proprietors on their
own account. They found that any chief would give 1000 acres without
a moment’s hesitation, and some of them had acquired whole tracts of
territory. But their riches lay lightly on their hearts, and a visitor
to the station would not have found out that such freeholds had been
acquired. Except in a moment of confidence, no artisan would speak of
his great fortune, and unless specially informed we could not have
distinguished the man that possessed miles of land, from the man that had
not a foot. But it had been mooted at home that some missionaries held
land in their own name. Letters which had been quite unintelligible at
the time, showed that there was an alarm over the ridiculous subject.
Artisans that bargained about large tracts of country were still in the
Mission, and did no more good or harm by the transaction than they would
have done by acquiring a freehold in the moon!

Chiefs fawned upon Europeans or rather on their goods. They would promise
anything or everything for the present of an old coat. When they made a
grant of land to one man and received his “present,” they saw nothing
inconsistent in giving the same land to a second man, or more correctly
to a second “present”. Soon these chiefs were better understood, and
however willing the artisans were to keep on good terms with these “great
ones,” their constant begging was too much for human patience. The
sneaking beings were found to be a perfect nuisance. They put themselves
on the footing of beggars, and the most unpretentious of the Europeans
had to treat them as such.

The artisans set themselves to train the natives to work. It was
difficult at first, but they showed considerable firmness. Some of them
believed that the native despised leniency, and formed the opinion that
the more they kicked him the more they were respected. This was an
unfortunate interpretation of the servility of the African. The plan more
frequently adopted was to dismiss any obstinate man without payment, the
only danger being that the whole squad would have to be thus treated.
Many were slaves, and as they might have to give over their wages to a
master, they were not at all sorry to be dismissed. Often masters and
slaves would work side by side under the European artisan who did justice
to all without respect of persons.

The industrial work was prosecuted with vigour, many natives being
employed in making roads. When the bugle sounded on Monday morning,
there was a rush of hundreds of men and women who had come to receive
employment. One artisan stood ready to select as many workers as he
wanted, and he was soon hidden from view as the people crowded around
him. Before enrolling the candidates he looked at their hoes and axes,
and rejected such as had inferior tools. He rejected also women that had
babies on their backs, but when this became known to a native mother,
she handed her child to some one else until her name was once on the
book. As the native names were sometimes very long, the artisan had a
great demand on his powers of writing. “And what’s your name?” he asks.
“Unechemtyosyamaguluwe.”[4] “Tut, man, the half of that will do!” is the
rejoinder; and a high sounding name like Emmanuel is reduced to Emma.

_Visitors._—For several days after our arrival there was great
excitement. Our larger room had four windows, which were thrown open to
admit the air, and every morning a crowd gathered at each window to see
the white lady! The natives of the Chiri Highlands had seen white men
before, but they had scarcely realised that women too would be disfigured
by this strange complexion. Some visitors asked an introduction to the
newcomer on the ground that “they were women too”. We had to shake hands
with all the groups. This was not a native salutation, but we wished
to be cordial towards our black brothers and sisters. After grasping a
score of dark hands, our own partook of a similar hue. A stranger might
feel inclined to wash his hands after the ceremony, but he would return
to find that more visitors had come, and that the whole process had to
be repeated. The natives are not much inconvenienced by “matter out of
place”. Even persons that came from working clay would advance and hold
out their hands. But they had good excuse. At this season they had no
water on the spot except a little for softening their clay, nor had they
any towels. Their loin-cloth seemed often too scanty for wiping the
fingers. But in later times when we visited the villages, we have seen
women run off to wash their hands, that the English lady might have a
proper welcome.

_Neighbours._—I began to confine myself so closely to the acquisition of
the language and work in the Mission School, that for a long time I knew
nothing of the district round Blantyre. The first occasion on which I
saw a little of the country was on a visit to Sochi in company with Dr.
Macklin, who went to settle several quarrels with Kapeni, the chief of
the country. In going along I was astonished to find so many villages.
When the villagers saw us, they made a point of hasting up to say
“Morning, morning!” (which is their usual salutation to Englishmen). The
males seemed to have all their time at their disposal. With the exception
of one who was sewing a piece of cloth, we saw nothing to show that the
men did any work at all. But the women were pounding corn or working in
the fields.

On reaching the chief’s village we asked for him, but he could not be
found. It was thought that he was afraid to show himself. One by one
his villagers gathered round till they formed a great assemblage. Some
had bows, others knives, and one had a gun, so that they had nothing
to fear. We were without weapons of any kind, only an Englishman is
always believed to carry a great supply of war medicine. After we had
waited a long time, the old chief appeared with a large clear knife
in his hand. He sat down at a great distance; when asked to come near
he said “No”. Some time ago he had sent the Mission a present which
had not been accepted, and he “was ashamed to have it returned”. Our
interpreter went over and induced him, after much persuasion, to come
beside us; then he sat down on a skin under a large tree. After being
introduced, I went up to shake hands with him, and I am not sure whether
the poor old man did not regard me with suspicion, for while he gave me
his left hand, he held his knife very firmly with the right. Such was
my first acquaintance with the king of the country. The sending back of
the present was then discussed. The Mission had two complaints against
Kapeni: (1) His men had carried off from Blantyre a slave woman that had
come there for protection. (2) One of the Blantyre lads when hunting
in the district of Sochi came to a village where the chief’s son and
certain companions were drinking beer, and they took away his gun and
gave him a beating. But the inhabitants of this village feared that the
matter would not end well. They reasoned that the outrage had been done
in _their_ town, and that the English would come with guns and inflict
a severe punishment upon them. Accordingly they took back the gun and
returned it to the Blantyre lad, whom they escorted home. The old chief
of course denied any knowledge of these facts. He had just “heard about
them”. After a little talking, matters were settled in a friendly way,
and we ended by inviting the chief over to Blantyre. He said he wished to
see the white lady, and to hear the harmonium which had just come, and he
bargained to be gratified in these respects. He was much astonished when
told that the lady, or “Donna,” never _went out_—he thought it strange
that she should not be seen hoeing the fields and pounding corn.

On our way home we passed the village where the gun had been taken, and
the doctor invited the men that restored it to come and see how the
English people valued their friends. On an appointed day they came and
received a present of calico. The chief of Sochi also paid his visit and
brought a present of fowls, receiving in return a blanket and a piece of
calico.

_Interpreters._—When we arrived there were two interpreters—Tom and Sam.
They had been in a slave gang which was liberated by Bishop Mackenzie.
Tom remembered his capture. He was playing beside a stream with his
little sister when a man seized him. He knew the reason at once. “The
man wanted to take me to the coast and sell me for calico.” “Why did
you not scream?” “Can’t scream, they put flour on my mouth.” Thus the
boy was separated from his parents and his home, and the little stream
that he played beside, at once and for ever. He could never tell where
was the home of his infancy; only he believed that it “was far away in
the Yao country”. Sam’s story was much the same; and they both remember
how glad they were when met by the white men who set them free. They had
acquired a knowledge of the English language at Capetown, and had seen
a great deal of civilised life there—perhaps a great deal too much. To
these young men I had to look for instruction in the native tongue. I
early recognised that I need not expect to do the people any good unless
I could speak to them. During our voyage up the river I collected a few
words and formed a scheme of the verb. But on attempting to make some use
of this material I was told that the Blantyre people did not understand
my Chinyasa because they spoke Yao. I felt as if the interpreter had been
playing a practical joke upon me. Here I had a note-book filled with
this Chinyasa, and I was now coolly told that it would be of no use! I
began next to find that some Yao words were the same as their Chinyasa
equivalents, and this made me reserve my manuscript with more hope.

[Illustration: NATIVE FEMALE (TRIBAL MARKS, TATOOS AND LIP RING).]

For some days after recovering from fever I was unable to walk to school,
and I got Katunga, a big chief who came in to tell us about Doto Livisto
(Dr. Livingstone), to point out the names of common objects as mountain,
tree, &c. He laughed very heartily at my imitation of his words. In
beginning to form a vocabulary, I took a Dictionary and went over it day
after day with the interpreters, noting down all the native words I could
find. I also wrote a translation of several passages of Scripture from
their lips. But I found they often had difficulties. When I wished to
translate the “Hail master” of Judas, they said that there was no word
for “Hail,” but (referring to English salutations recently introduced)
they assured me I would make nothing of it unless I said “Morning
Master”. The “kissed him” was a similar puzzle. For _kiss_ they gave me
one word which, as I afterwards discovered, meant _to bite_, and another
which meant to _smell_! They could come no nearer the idea. No mother
here kisses her child. One has only to look at the photograph of a native
female to see that she cannot kiss.

Notwithstanding their residence at Cape Town these men were often unable
to translate the most ordinary English into their own tongue, and yet
they were better interpreters than any we could expect to train for
several years. When I once tried hard to find a word for _guilty_, they
could give nothing but the word _bad_. One gentleman said that they had
occasionally been offenders in Cape Town. He was sure that if I followed
the usual legal forms, and mentioned the sentence of working for a month
at the docks, they had sufficient experience to tell me! But though I
supposed cases as like this as I could without betraying the matter, I
failed to get the information required. What I most deplored was that if
these men had got the word in the middle of an address, it would have
given them no trouble! From the translations I wrote down I afterwards
formed a conception of how they would treat such an expression as, “His
delight is in the Law of the Lord”. They would break it up into two
sentences, of which the first would be “Light is low,” and the second
some very unintelligible statement about God. I could not have believed
that such nonsense was possible unless I had actually come into contact
with it. The African interpreter who said, ‘The salvation of the soul
is a great sack,’ is I fear quite an average specimen of his class. But
this is due more to the difficulties of the English language than to any
natural incapacity in the African. I have employed many to translate
from one negro dialect to another and they could do this very well. The
native congregations that listened to the interpreters must have been
much puzzled at first. Once they heard an address on the healing of the
leper—and every time the word ‘leper’ occurred it was rendered ‘leopard’.

When the magic lantern was used for the entertainment and instruction
of the natives, they at first looked on with fear. When told “This is a
man that lived long ago,” they actually thought that people were brought
back from the dead. But soon they enjoyed seeing English people and
English buildings. One day we showed them ‘the house of John Knox’. The
interpreter of course had never before heard of such a man, but he was
not the person to hesitate, and he said, “This is the house of John the
Ox!” (John Ng’ombe).

Still in telling people how to hoe and to carry grass and on all ordinary
occasions, the aid of interpreters was most useful. They were also much
valued for their advice in difficulties that arose with the natives. They
understood matters of this kind better than Europeans did. When I arrived
they were just making ready to leave the country and their departure was
a great loss to the Mission.

_School._—Next to the acquisition of the language came school work. This
had formerly occupied about two hours in the forenoon, but I introduced
an afternoon school. At first we felt teaching very hard, owing to the
heat, and often we were almost fainting. But we succeeded in keeping
our pupils interested. Had we possessed books in the native language we
might have done much more good, for our pupils must have found it a hard
task to read English. But in a short time we introduced a little of the
African. One of my first attempts was to write out a simple English verse
with a Yao translation. Mrs. Macdonald printed this in large letters, and
in a short time the pupils could both read and sing,

    “Set thou thy trust upon the Lord,
      And be thou doing good;
    For so thou in the land shalt dwell,
      And verily have food.”

When I asked which of the verses was best, Anyasa pupils said they liked
the English, but the majority of the school preferred—

    “Tululani mtima wenu Mulungu,
    Tendani yambone mowa gosepe
    Iyoyo somchitama muchilambo
    Mwambone somchikola yakulia.”

The words of this other verse were much longer, but they conveyed
a meaning to the natives, while the English words conveyed none.
Notwithstanding all that I could do with the interpreters, the
translation would come out in eleven syllables. Now there was a puzzle
to find a tune. It happens that a metre like this is common in Scottish
songs, and we tried an adaptation of the “Flowers of the Forest,” which
acted admirably. I never saw any melody tell so much on the natives.
It actually brought tears to their eyes the first day we sang it. The
harmonium was a great attraction in the school. The children seemed more
amendable to music than their parents. The old folk were fond of coming
to hear this wonderful instrument, but when something lively was played
they frequently looked grave, while they were almost certain to laugh at
a plaintive air! Only the great novelty of the instrument itself affected
them so much at first, that they could not appreciate emotional effects.
The pupils began to do a little arithmetic. The numerical system in
central Africa is quinary. Hence the English notation puzzled them at
first, but not so greatly as might have been expected. As natives seldom
count, their own numerical system had not engaged their thoughts so much
as to oppose the new one. In the Yao language there are three distinct
methods of numeration. One of these calls in the aid of the human voice
in order to bring out certain numerical distinctions, and would require a
ventriloquist to do justice to it!

But it is high time to point out that the Minister himself had now gone
to school, and to describe his progress thereat. Looking back upon this
period I may now characterise it as follows:—First “half”—Darkness;
Second “half”—Groping; Third “half”—Efforts at making a fire; Fourth
“half”—Beginning to see the bystanders; Fifth “half”—Forming friendships;
Sixth “half”—Instructing our friends; Seventh “half”—Farewells.




CHAPTER VIII.

FIRST HALF. JULY 1878-DEC. 1878.


_Weekly work._—On Sunday morning, I devoted my attention to the revisal
of Yao discourses and prayers prepared during the previous week. The
first discourse had to be given at nine o’clock in the morning. It was
chiefly a translation of some passage of Scripture, with one or two
remarks for the purpose of explaining or applying the subject. I stuck to
the Scripture itself as much as possible. After this I prepared for our
English service at two P.M., which was conducted after the method usual
at home. Next I had to revise my Yao discourse for the evening service.
Every week-day except Saturday I took the school from eight to ten, the
last half hour being occupied with the more advanced pupils. At ten we
breakfasted; and till two P.M. I was occupied with various items. A long
time was spent over the language. There was a meeting for the natives
every evening, and I required nearly the whole day to prepare for it,
having not only to find words, but to verify their application. As the
boys that assisted me could not speak a sentence of English, my task
was difficult. I found it necessary to use signs, nor was it easy to
devise suitable ones. After earnest endeavours I often failed to make
the natives understand me. Then I practised my signals before a European,
and he could not understand them either, and what was worse could suggest
no improvement. I sometimes felt as helpless in my efforts to talk with a
native before me as if I had been still in Scotland.

At two o’clock school was resumed till four. I had not much difficulty
in sustaining the attention of a class of twenty-two, a fact which said
much for the docility of the pupils. At four o’clock we dined, and after
dinner I again prepared busily for the native meeting at six. At its
close we had time for a short walk in what would be the twilight at home.
We generally went to one or other of our three villages for the purpose
of talking a little with the villagers, and making them feel at home with
us. At seven P.M. we had evening prayers, and after that my time was free
for linguistic studies. We proposed at first to have classes for mutual
instruction in the native tongue, but it was soon felt that each man
must study by himself before there could be any instructor. The language
became the largest part of my work. The Scripture readings I gave took a
great deal of time. I found it interesting work, and was always delighted
to get hold of a new word. Occasionally I got words for which I could
find no exact English equivalent, and in that case I had to construct a
kind of mental formula. Sometimes I made best progress in translating the
Old Testament, although I chiefly tried the Gospels.

The school-children, as a rule, are very agreeable with each other. I
have seen few cases of strife, and these were easily quieted. The very
fact of making a formal examination settled everything. In one case,
where a little boy complained of a bigger one, I first instituted a
long, solemn inquiry, to see whether the bigger one was to blame; when
it was found that he was, he, rather to his astonishment, was sent out
to bring a bamboo! Then followed a long dissertation on the bamboo, in
which I pointed out how it would hurt and cut. By this time, the little
boy had tears in his eyes, and said he did not wish the other one to be
punished; which was the very effect I aimed at. But after a time this
failed. On asking a boy whether he wished a companion beaten, I would
often receive the answer, “I do not know, you, father, know best”. As
girls came to the station, Mrs. Macdonald took them under her care, she
had first to improve their habits and get them to wash their own clothes.
Soap was a great novelty to the natives; they were much amused with the
peculiar “feel” it gave to clothes. They thought it was a kind of clothes
“medicine,” and trusted more to its magic than to their own rubbing. They
used to dye their cloth black, a custom which made washing unnecessary.
But after becoming acquainted with soap, men and women made a great rush
upon the commodity, and notwithstanding every care in distributing, our
six tins of soft soap were speedily reduced to two, and we had great
anxiety as to what should be done when the two remaining tins shared
the fate of their predecessors. The natives began to like the coloured
clothes which were sent out. A box of clothes was a great acquisition.
Shirts, trousers, and blankets were eagerly sought after, and some of
the workers accepted these as payment in preference to calico, while our
pupils regarded them as the best kind of prizes.

_Visiting._—On Saturday mornings, accompanied by a little boy, called
Walani, I used to visit native villages. On these occasions I was much
impressed with the African’s powers of observation. Once we had gone a
great distance and were very tired. We came to a little hill, from the
top of which we saw smoke, which guided us to a quiet little hamlet. As
we were approaching, I wondered whether the villagers would know anything
of the “white men” at all. Here they lived in a wild spot, apparently
without communication with the rest of the world. I was surprised to find
that at this distance (at least six miles), they at once called Walani
by his name, and knew about all the Englishmen on the station. In such
villages I endeavoured to speak about the God of heaven; and the people
looked thoughtful, and were quite disposed to listen. The natives are
by no means a stupid people, and I should not like to hear them called
utter savages. Certain it is that had they been acquainted with writing
and other contrivances, chiefly of a mechanical nature, they would have
presented a very different appearance. They seem to stand before us as a
people destitute of every religious observance. But this may be accounted
for by their want of men set apart for religion. It is with them only
what it might be with any people destitute of books, and without a form
of church government. Besides, in judging the natives we ought to bear
in mind how easy it is to proceed upon incomplete observation. The other
day I made a discovery which surprised me very much. Though for three
months I had been teaching girls to read, I did not know that they
carried a number of little stones in the mouth! The other Europeans were
equally ignorant of the custom. Still it is the fact that all the native
girls carry from six to ten little pebbles under the tongue. They told
me it was for the purpose of making them speak well! After this it would
not astonish me to discover one day a complex ritual among the natives!
Meanwhile, in their constant cheerfulness and kindness to each other, we
find aspects of character that true religion would inculcate; nay, more,
may we not see in these features of their disposition, some traces of the
working of that πνευμα which “bloweth where it listeth”? At this time I
wrote: “We have made little progress in setting the Bible truths before
them as a system. As yet I have found no words to express the ideas of
trust, faith, substitution, mercy, or justice. Hitherto I have stated the
simple narratives of Christ’s life. But I am confident that they would
appreciate trains of reasoning, and be as able to follow the Epistle of
the Romans as ordinary people are at home.”

I add now small cuttings from my journal which will give a general idea
of our life at this period.

_Saturday, Nov. 16._—In the morning before 10 o’clock I had a walk with
Walani, now called John MacRae, for the purpose of learning the language,
and speaking to any people we might find in the villages. John is now
fond of plucking all the flowers he sees, in order to take them home
to Mrs. Macdonald. A few months ago the natives laughed at the idea of
gathering flowers, but now they are rather fond of doing so. The boys,
under Mrs. Macdonald’s more immediate care, put up bunches in their
bedrooms.

_Sunday, Nov. 17._—Maseo, one of the Magololo chiefs, arrived on a
visit: he was accompanied by two of his wives and one of his sons. He
was present at our evening service. Having been a long time with Dr.
Livingstone he knows a few English words, and likes to use them, _e.g._,
“thank you,” “look here,” &c.

_Monday, Nov. 18._—The chief comes to breakfast, and we get a great
deal of practice in trying to converse with him. He speaks both Yao and
Chinyasa.

_Tuesday, Nov. 19._—We had a “Magic-lantern entertainment”. The chief
recognised Dr. Livingstone, and stood up before the screen to have a good
view. His two wives visited Mrs. Macdonald in the forenoon, and got a
present of a dress each, and listened to some music.

We received the report of a mwai case which resulted in the death of an
old man who lived beside us. I found that our schoolboys all believed in
the mwai, and I began to argue against the superstition. We happened at
the time to be poisoning rats, and I asked whether the rats died because
they were “bewitchers!” The little fellows appreciated the illustration
very much, but still retained this faith of their fathers.

_Wednesday, Nov. 20._—A man came and asked leave to “_propose_” to a
woman that Mrs. Macdonald has been training to do washing and other
household duties. The woman in question came up much disappointed.
She seemed to fear that she would be compelled to marry in the native
fashion,—_i.e._, without having any choice in the matter. She admitted
that she was willing to marry, but said that she wanted another man. When
we stated that she might certainly marry the man she preferred, she went
away highly satisfied.

_Thursday, Nov. 21._—Four couples paid me a visit in the forenoon,
expecting to be married on the spot. After trying to explain the nature
of marriage, I told them to come back next day. Mrs. Macdonald’s servant
was among the number, and seemed to be the ringleader.

_Friday, Nov. 22._—Four marriages were celebrated in the schoolroom with
as great solemnity as possible. I should have put on a pulpit-gown if I
had possessed one. We killed a goat for the occasion, and presented each
of the ladies with a dress. Dr. Macklin gave each man a knife. All the
previous marriages on the station had been civil marriages, which were
arranged by the Doctor. These cases were almost semi-christian marriages.

In the evening two other men asked for wives. We inquired whether the
ladies had agreed, and presently they were brought up to declare their
consent. But the men had no houses, and the marriages were deferred till
houses could be built. The females said they were willing to wait.

_Saturday, Nov. 23._—We discovered that one of the men married yesterday
had another wife. We had been particularly careful to enforce that this
could not be; and therefore, partly as a punishment for his unblushing
falsehood, we executed a summary sentence of banishment on him. His
other wife was on bad terms with her rival. The man that was refused the
other day by Mrs. Macdonald’s servant, now comes to say that he has found
a wife; and that there may be no mistake this time, he brings the lady
with him. As he has no house, the marriage is deferred till its erection.

I paid a visit to various villages for the purpose of getting more
children to school; I met a few naked boys playing beside a stream,
who said they would come. They looked at my umbrella, and seemed to be
astonished at the folding up of it. As usual on such occasions, I showed
them my watch, which has been exhibited so often that I begin to regard
it more as a magic-box than a timepiece.

_Monday, Nov. 25._—One nice boy has been added to school as a result of
Saturday’s visit.

The chief takes his departure. We pressed him to send his boys to school,
and he said “he would _dream_ about it”. He tells us that the Magololo
chiefs are much guided by dreams. After some talk on the subject, we gave
him a parting present, with the view of inducing a favourable dream!

_Tuesday, Nov. 26._—A messenger came from Chiputula, accompanied by two
of the chiefs sons, and carrying a present of goats and bananas. A Yao
man had run off with one of Chiputula’s wives and a gun. Kapeni is the
man’s chief. Chiputula wishes the English to tell Kapeni that if he does
not deliver up the offender Chiputula will make war.

_Wednesday, Nov. 27._—Mrs. Macdonald took up Chiputula’s two sons, and
entertained them with books, music, and sweetmeats. She was much pleased
with the two little princes of the Ruo.

_Thursday, Nov. 28._—Dr. Macklin went over to Sochi to see Kapeni
concerning Chiputula’s message. But the old chief was not to be found.
The Dr. thought he was at home, nevertheless, and left a message for him
to come to Blantyre.

_Friday, Nov. 29._—Kapeni sent a message to ask for an interview at a
half-way village. He requested me to come “because I could speak Yao!” I
started at 6·30 in the morning, and reached Kapeni very early. He gave
the utmost satisfaction, and professed much friendship for Chiputula.

But I believe he bears a secret grudge against us for the protection
given to run-away slaves of his. This subject is a delicate one. It looks
very well to give protection to slaves when they come and say they are
going to be sold. Yet the relation between a chief and his servants is
one of the things that go to form the social order of these tribes; and
by treating the matter rashly, we may bring about a great deal of anarchy.

_Friday, Dec. 6._—Mrs. Macdonald’s sewing-class contains twelve girls,
who seem very willing to learn. We had some difficulty in obtaining
female pupils, as the Yao girls are engaged at a very early age, and
after such engagement they are not so free as they would otherwise
be. Many of our female pupils are slave girls who have come here for
protection; they live on the station, and as they increase in number,
they will require a female monitor for themselves. At present the care
of them gives us much anxiety; only they marry as soon as they find a
husband.

All our earlier intercourse with the natives brought before us the
cheerful side of their character. I found them always full of fun. As
they have no difficulty in procuring food, clothes, or houses, they
suffer from none of the cares that press so heavily on Europeans. Still,
we discovered that they had their troubles too. The first occasion I saw
any sorrow, was in connection with death. It was about seven o’clock in
the morning when a message came from a father asking me to be present
at the interment of his little child. On enquiring when the funeral
would take place, I found that it was to be immediately. On going to the
village, we saw that a few of the man’s neighbours had assembled, and
were waiting for our arrival. As soon as the Englishmen had all come,
two natives entered the house. Here the little child was stretched upon
a bamboo mat, with a piece of calico thrown over its body. The mother
lay mourning on the side of the mat. The father we had already passed
sitting outside the house with a few men round him. He took no farther
part in the funeral ceremony; contrary to our expectation, he did not
accompany the body to its last resting-place. The two natives that went
inside removed the calico from the child’s body, then they folded the
mat round the corpse, and tied it up so that the whole formed a small
cylindrical parcel. After this the men came to the outside again and
washed their hands very carefully. They did this, not for the purpose
of ordinary cleanliness (natives are not so careful in this respect),
it was a ceremonial act, deemed necessary after touching the dead. Two
men now took up the body, and carried it the whole way. The headman of
the village seemed to think it was his place to follow next the bearers.
Some of us had an idea that the child would be interred near the house,
but the procession went on to a time-consecrated burying-ground. Once or
twice the bearers seemed to lose their way, and then the headman went to
the front and carefully examined the paths. When at length they arrived
at their destination, we were puzzled to find that no little grave had
been dug. The body was then laid down under one of the large trees, and
the headman came and asked what was the English method of burial. We said
that we wished them to bury after their own manner, only we took the
opportunity of stating that when the English were buried a prayer was
offered up to God. Then we engaged briefly in prayer.

By this time a procession of females approached. They had been following
us all the way at a short distance. At their head came the child’s
mother, who was supported by two other women. As soon as she arrived
she sat down nearest the body of her child, while her companions threw
themselves on the grass beside her. The little band of females looked
more like mourners than did the men, for the latter sometimes talked
and laughed more than would be considered proper at an English funeral.
The women carried a few earthen pots to place on the grave. A Yao
burial-ground is easily known by the number of pots that are there.
The place where we stood was covered with pots as thickly as a home
churchyard is with tombstones. The men now began to break up the ground
for a grave, while the women watched the sad work. On asking how deep
they made it, we found that it was to be about three feet. After watching
their work for a while, we concluded that they would take three hours to
complete it, and we requested to be excused from waiting longer. Then we
all shook hands with the mother, and tried to comfort her. She had been
throwing dust upon her person as a sign of her sorrow. Before leaving,
we enquired whether an English implement would not be better than their
hoes. They heartily assented to this, and despatched one of their number
to bring a spade. In the evening I went down to see the mother, and tried
to speak to her. From what I could gather, she seemed to think that
she would meet her child again (10). How much I wished that I had been
able to use their language, so as to bring home to their minds all the
comforting truths about that child’s great Elder Brother! Had we been
able to stay till the burial took place, we might have seen some more
instructive rites. I wondered whether their ceremonial washing spake of
some connection in their minds, or in the minds of their fathers, between
physical death and moral pollution (or sin): and whether the pots placed
on the grave spake of a hope that the activities of their owner were not
ended for ever.

_A murder._—The next funeral I saw was much sadder. The female mourners
wrung their hands and shed tears of grief and despair. The men attended
in great numbers, and their dark faces spoke of rage and determination.
The previous evening a poor woman had gone to the stream to wash her
maize. About sunset a gun was heard, which, however, caused no concern.
Though the woman had not come back the villagers did not miss her, and
retired to bed as usual. But at night they heard the cries of a child,
and discovered one little creature wandering alone in the darkness, and
weeping for its mother. The villagers immediately arose and hastened to
the stream, where they soon found the woman’s dress and her basket of
grain, but the woman herself was nowhere seen.

That night the Missionaries on the Station were all sitting together
after evening prayers. It was Christmas time, and our friends had come
down from Livingstonia. We had received no letters from England for three
months, the natives of Mazaro had rebelled against the Portuguese, and
war had put an end to all communication. Matters were looking dark. We
had no calico to pay native labour, the little that remained was required
for buying the necessaries of life, and as it was nearly exhausted,
starvation loomed in the distance. The white men were seriously talking
of an expedition to get up goods, when a loud rap was heard at the door.
“The mail! here’s the mail!” was shouted, but it was Kumlomba with
half-a-dozen of his villagers. In great excitement he rushed forward
and threw down at the Doctor’s feet the bit of calico that had been the
woman’s covering, as he exclaimed, “My child is dead!” This unexpected
“mail” took the breath from us all. We tried to calm the poor man.
“There was no evidence,” we argued, “that the woman had been killed.
A slave-gang was being made up by Kapeni’s people—it was certain she
had been caught for slavery.” A celebrated lawyer said to a novice who
was going to act at a trial, “Give your opinion boldly, but don’t give
any reasons for it: your opinion may be correct, but your reasons will
almost certainly be wrong”. The advice is noteworthy, and often have I
thought of it when dealing with an African: what he states in expressing
his belief is generally right, what he adds by way of argument is often
wrong, and it seems doubly so to persons unacquainted with the native
mind. Kumlomba said a few things that appeared very disjointed to
Europeans, and confirmed our belief that the woman was still alive. The
chief listened to us with patience but did not seem satisfied.

Next morning the mystery was solved—the woman was found lying dead in the
stream without any clothing, and brutally mutilated (36). The Doctors
were soon informed, who examined the body, and told the people to bury
it. After the funeral was over, Kumlomba and other natives, as also all
the Europeans, met to discuss what ought to be the method of procedure
on this sad occurrence. The natives were only too familiar with such
cases, and some of the Europeans had been three years in the country, and
were well acquainted with native law. They agreed that a message must
be sent to Kapeni asking him to give up the guilty party. On being thus
appealed to, Kapeni convened an enormous meeting of his people at Sochi.
He there stated that he had not yet discovered who the assassin was, but
he assured us that as the Yao people always “talked,” everyone would know
in a few days. But according to native law, Kapeni must either deliver
up the assassin or forfeit the friendship of the Mission people. Being
anxious to find a third alternative, he asked, what would happen if he
could not find the man, but native law appeared to recognise no such
neutral ground. In the end two sticks were brought, and the question was
asked, “Which of these does Kapeni choose?” Finally, he agreed to give up
the assassin. But he was in no haste to do so; nor was this wonderful,
since the Ndilande people threatened to kill him if he attempted to
fulfil his promise. After a long delay, Kumlomba became impatient, and
went over himself unaccompanied by any European. Kapeni asked him whether
he had not heard all about it: for by this time the truth was generally
known, but Kumlomba stood on his dignity and kept to the previous
question, “Give up the man”. One thing was remarkable about this visit.
The Englishmen always admitted, at least for the sake of argument, that
Kapeni might not know the man, but Kumlomba refused to entertain the
supposition, and in fact Kapeni did not dare to urge this plea upon him.
Kumlomba said among other things, “Don’t take _me_ for a white man. I
am a Yao like yourself, and I know all the customs of my country.” The
natives about us were strangely unanimous in asserting that Kapeni knew
who was guilty. They led us to understand that he had received a present
from the murderer, and had granted him absolution. Of course few of us
were then old enough to know even that the natives shaved their heads
in a case of ordinary death, much less that they observed a complicated
ritualism for murder. Kumlomba did not ask Kapeni to punish the
criminal. Such a demand would have been abhorrent to native custom. The
chief is the father of his people, and native law is too polite to ask a
man to execute justice on his own son. The native custom, moreover, is in
accordance with native religion. A man’s deceased relatives become his
gods. While Kumlomba persisted in demanding his rights at this meeting,
one of Kapeni’s counsellors said to him:—

“Why should you come bothering Kapeni, the men live beside yourselves?”

Soon after this the assassins were captured, but although Kumlomba
insisted, “Give them over to us and we will kill them,” which would have
been native law pure and simple, the Europeans that were present, not
being accustomed to see human beings killed with so little ceremony,
refused to do so. By this step they did credit to their own humane
feelings, but they transgressed native custom. Kumlomba was but ill
satisfied when about a month after, in the execution of native justice,
he levelled his musket at one of the men—the other having meanwhile
escaped. His view was that besides killing this man he ought to have got
“six people”. The six people, or slaves, he fixed as the ransom of the
person that had escaped. By native law he was entitled to damages of this
kind. I have known Kapeni himself concede larger demands.

One effect of the execution was to bring in an enormous number not only
of slave refugees but also of free people who wanted to live near the
English. In a short time the population of Kumlomba’s village became
about five times as many. The slaves that escaped were aware that they
exposed themselves to the danger of assassination. But at the beginning
of this case had not one Missionary of the greatest standing told them
that an Englishman considered the life of a black person as precious as
his own life, and that it was a murderer himself that ought to die for
his deed, and not “two or three” of his slaves (96)? In this unsettled
land these statements somehow were much prized both by bond and free.

Another effect of the case was to terrify Kapeni from coming to Blantyre.
Happening to be at Kapeni’s about a month after, I found him from home.
I asked his son when he was coming to see us, and received the answer,
“The Ndilande people say that they will kill him if he go to Blantyre”.
The Ndilande people had wished Kapeni to be more decided, and to refuse
to negociate against them. The old man had wavered. In such circumstances
a native must feel it hard to come to a conclusion. He cannot tell by
inspection which course will be most for his interest. Nor can he talk
with any certainty of eternal and immutable morality. No wonder that
amidst this thick darkness and painful suspense he attempts to confer
with the spirits of his fathers (14).

But while Kapeni had a duty to perform in giving up the transgressor,
whose duty was it to punish him? Kumlomba asserted that it was for him to
deal with the case. As this man was my instructor in the native language
at the time, I was thrown much into his society, and I heard him declare
that he wanted to take the whole responsibility. Besides he had carried
out a capital sentence long before. It might be true that in the eyes
of Englishmen these negroes looked bad dispensers of equity. Some of
the Portuguese also said that it was not right for the Mission to allow
savages to figure as administrators of justice. Still the natives had
dispensed their own laws for hundreds of years.

But at Blantyre was there not a Colony as well as a Mission, and had
not the Colony power to punish? Undoubtedly the Blantyre settlement was
established on this principle, and when Dr. Macklin wrote to the Convener
of the Committee giving an account of the occurrence, and stating his
determination to give judgment on the murderer, the latter at once agreed
with the Doctor’s reasons, remarking that the native mind would accord
with the doom decreed, while he ever afterwards defended the execution
on the supposition that it was the duty of the Colony to carry it out.
But against this position it was argued that it was not lawful for
British subjects to punish transgressors without the authority of the
Government. This objection was found to be serious, though it did not
occur to any worker in Africa. Even the promoters of the settlement, many
of whom were legal men, seem to have overlooked this difficulty though
they had by them books on statute law of which there were none in the
desert. But though I for one never thought of statute law, I had once
read carefully the old Acts of the Scottish General Assembly, and though
I had no books of authority by me I was aware that clergymen had been
censured or deposed for acting as magistrates, and I mentioned to the
others that I was bound by laws or precedents like these. At the same
time I held strong views to the effect that no clergyman ought to act in
civil matters at all. In every colony I could think of, such duties fell
to laymen. So far as I could understand the case, there were two civil
authorities both asserting their right to punish the offender, one being
the natives and the other the Blantyre colony.

In such circumstances various courses were open. The case might be
taken up (1) by the natives alone, (2) by the colony alone, (3) by both
acting together. The natives acting alone would in accordance with
their own laws have killed the offender at once as they proposed to do.
If the English colony was to act it had to determine its relations to
Kumlomba. These were not clear. At one time (page 34) this man figures
as the chief of the Blantyre territory, at other times as a subject of
the colony. If he were the superior power he would execute offenders at
his own discretion, and if he were a headman of the English colony he
had a right according to native law to expect the latter to hand over
entirely to him those that were alleged to have offended against him.
If the colony were to ignore native law, and try to carry out purely
English law, then it would have to judge and deal with the prisoner
on English principles. If it resolved to call witnesses it would have
been a fair thing first to explain what the precise effect of testimony
was in a purely English trial. After such explanation all Kumlomba’s
men would have sworn to anything, and all the prisoner’s friends would
have sworn to the opposite. In the same way if a jury of natives had
been impanelled, their verdict would have depended on whether they were
friends of Kumlomba or of the prisoner. Suppose the Englishmen had wished
to get out of the difficulty by an ordeal like _mwai_, the natives would
have insisted that it was not a case for the ordeal, while to Christians
the measure would have seemed an enormity. The same might be said of the
plan of redeeming a murderer and executing slaves in his stead.

As a matter of fact the colony acted along with the natives. A formal
trial was held at which all the Europeans were present: at this I
declined to attend because I had been acting as chaplain to these
prisoners, consequently I cannot tell whether it was the colony or the
natives that took the lead on this occasion. It was also deemed expedient
for the Europeans to attend the execution in case the natives should
follow their barbarous custom of dishonouring the criminal’s body.

Every circumstance was reported to the Directors, and the workers in
Africa felt that the view taken at home would be of importance. One day
an assassin might cut down some native that had left a home at Quilimane
or Mazaro in order to stay at the Mission, and of whom the Europeans were
the sole protectors. Long ago Dr. Macklin had asked the Directors what
was to be done in the case of murder, but had got no advice.

After the execution the feeling of insecurity soon passed away. The air
had been full of threats to the effect that the Mission people would be
all similarly treated. By thus killing the enemy, one after another,
had not the Yao destroyed certain Anyasa that had ventured to settle by
them? Lads were now afraid to take charge of the Mission cattle, children
would not venture to come to school, and those that stayed at Blantyre
were afraid to sleep in the dormitory. One sees at a glance that fear
is a large ingredient in the native character, but a stranger born in
a well-ordered country has difficulty in realising the extent of this
fear. A boy who ventures out at night is apt to see some one that wishes
to shoot him, and forthwith he rushes into the house screaming with
fright. Girls and women feel if possible more unsafe, knowing how many
of their comrades have been surprised and carried off. Occasionally we
had an opportunity of pointing out that their fears might be sometimes
groundless. Nothing is more ridiculous to an African than the sight of
his friend under a false alarm. One night an Englishman had gone out
for the purpose of making astronomical observations. He had carefully
prepared his artificial horizon, and was bending down over it with a
sextant in his hand when the stillness of the evening was broken by a
terrible scream, and the observer had a large basin thrown full in his
face. One of our boys had gone out from the light, and had taken the
astronomer for a lion. It was long before his companions allowed the lad
to forget the incident.




CHAPTER IX.

SECOND HALF. JANUARY, 1879—JUNE, 1879.


The first day of the New Year was celebrated in proper Scottish fashion.
Our brethren of Livingstonia, and all the Englishmen within our reach,
had been invited to Blantyre. At an early hour all the gentlemen, lay
and clerical, donned aprons and began to cook. Some prepared a “haggis,”
others a plum-pudding, others had charge of soups and meats. Though
kindly exempted from culinary duties, I thought that the exemption would
prove of small service. Every corner of our little house was filled
with plates, cups, trays, crystal, &c., &c., and so great was the stir
that study was impossible. At last I went to another hut, and sat in
the verandah with a group of natives, who enabled me to add a few more
words to my African vocabulary. I could not help contrasting a tropical
New-Year’s Day with an English. In Africa I did not venture to leave the
shade of the verandah without a thick hat and an umbrella. Coats and
vests were dispensed with, and even the lightest clothing that we had was
burdensome. But amidst our new surroundings it was pleasant to remember
the old customs of our native land, and we sat down in due season to
a New-Year’s Day dinner. The natives had been watching the strange
preparations with breathless interest, utterly at a loss to know what it
all meant; and as dinner proceeded, more than a hundred—men, women, and
children—stood gazing in at the windows and doors, which had been thrown
wide open on account of the heat. We observed all the time-honoured
ceremonies as gravely and formally as if we had been at home. In
connection with the toast of “The Queen” it was remarked that most of
us had been long enough in Africa to appreciate the value of an orderly
government. One gentleman proposed that we should take a note of each
other’s names, and see where we should all be four years later, little
thinking that long ere then he would sleep by the soft-flowing waters of
the Chiri. At the close we joined hands and sung “Auld Lang Syne”. That
day was quite an oasis in our desert, it brought us the long-expected
mail.

Next morning saw the first pic-nic in the history of the school. At
sunrise we started for the top of Michiru. I was the only European that
went, but my valour exceeded my discretion, for at one spot I had to lie
down till two boys ran to a stream for water. Little fellows of 10 years
put me to shame as they ran up the steep sides of the hill like baboons.
A buck was shot, cooked, and nearly all eaten on the spot. It was late in
the afternoon before we returned.

Since our first arrival at Blantyre the School attendance had doubled,
and by this time a good number of girls had come, to whom Mrs.
Macdonald’s sewing class formed an attraction. They were set to make
dresses for themselves, and the first few days all the old men and women
in the neighbourhood came to watch the operation. It was regarded a
privilege for girls to be allowed to take so much cloth in their hands,
not to mention the prospect of wearing it. At first, these pupils were
awkward. They had never attempted to sew before, for it is the men that
sew in this country, nor had they ever seen scissors, or thimbles.
Scissors, or “the little knives” they were specially fond of. But the
thimble they did not half appreciate, as the skin of their fingers would
set ordinary needles at defiance. It was amusing to see our young ladies
fitting on their thimbles. A new comer when told to select the one that
suited her, would respond by putting a thimble on each of her fingers!
The sewing class had to face difficulties that would not occur at home.
When the war at Mazaro disturbed communications, the girls could not be
supplied with enough of cloth. One night robbers entered by our windows
and carried away among other things their half-finished dresses and all
their sewing materials! This was a serious misfortune. Though thimbles
and needles are of little intrinsic value yet we could not manufacture
them, and eight months might elapse before their place could be filled.
The thimbles, however, were all found not far from the station, having
been thrown away as of no value. But the needles would be considered a
splendid prize, and if the thief were at all enterprising he might buy
a wife for them! The natives at first would gladly sell a dozen eggs for
a single needle. Although sewing was a novelty for girls, old men were
to be seen at every village engaged in the art. While plying the needle,
they sit on a mat holding one end of the cloth with their toes. We were
very anxious to teach the natives to knit, but at this time we had no
worsted.

_Housekeeping._—The difficulties of Housekeeping were great, the subject
being quite new to the African girls. Untidy and dirty in their habits,
they considered us very peculiar when we objected to plates and spoons
that they thought clean. Besides teaching them to do indoor work, Mrs.
Macdonald had to see that they dressed their hair, and washed every
morning, and as they wore light clothes their wardrobes required special
supervision. Hence the native girls that came to assist Mrs. Macdonald
did not immediately win her confidence, and at first did little to
lighten her task. When nursing they would even let the child fall, a
mistake that they were liable to by attempting to hold their charge not
in native but in English fashion. So to ensure safety the nurse had to
sit beside her mistress, while the latter amused the baby and did the
household washing at the same time.

The introduction of anything new was always noteworthy. At first
the cook-boy caught his fowls about an hour before breakfast, and
plucked them before they were dead, because the feathers thus came off
more easily. As soon as facts of this kind came under one’s notice
improvements were tried. In order that the fowls might not be plucked
alive, the cook was asked to get them the night before. He was most
carefully instructed in the new part that he had to play, and specially
told to “hang up” the fowls in the kitchen. That night the usual
stillness was considerably broken. I always valued the evening hours
for study: they were so much quieter; but on this particular night it
seemed as if some fowl house had been transported to my study window.
As the unwonted noise continued, a light was got, and efforts were made
to solve the mystery, the kitchen was explored, and several fowls were
found hanging on pegs in the wall with their legs tightly bound together,
while others similarly secured had fallen down and were struggling on the
floor, but all were alive! The boy had faithfully “hung them up,” but he
had seen no necessity for killing them!

The natives that acted as housemaids had similar interesting experiences.
Of course, they had never before seen teapots, cups and saucers,
tumblers, forks, or spoons. Forks they called “thorns!” Consequently they
were ushered into a new world, and found a pleasure in being permitted
to touch the white people’s dishes. They now had at their disposal
spoons of all varieties, and it was perhaps in spoons that they were
most interested. They have a large _ladle_ of their own for transferring
porridge from the clay pot to a wooden platter, but their spoon is an
instrument of much greater antiquity. A good idea of its use may be
gathered from Mr. Anderssen’s description. A repast was provided for him
among the Ovambo. He hesitated as no spoon was to be found. “On seeing
the dilemma we were in, our host quickly plunged his greasy _fingers_
into the middle of the steaming mass and brought out a handful which he
dashed into the milk. Having stirred it quickly with all his might, he
next opened his capacious mouth, and the agreeable mixture vanished as if
by magic. He finally licked his fingers and smacked his lips with evident
satisfaction, looking at us as much as to say, ‘that’s the trick, my
boys’.”

At first one could never be sure of the native servants, except when
standing over them. Their views had to pass through many phases: one
day they would wash knives in mass by putting a whole collection in
a tub and stirring them round, without thinking of dealing with each
separately; next day they would take silver plated articles and rub them
one by one in the sand! The first dishes brought out for the Mission,
were fortunately of enamelled tin, which did not break. But in that
region amid fever and discomfort, the appetite becomes fastidious. Those
accustomed to civilised plates said that their food did not taste the
same when placed on the iron dishes. Accordingly, other plates were
tried, but they were short lived. ‘Accidents will happen’, and at first
they were frequent. When at length glass tumblers ventured to take the
place of the iron jug that held our water, the natives felt that they had
to deal with a serious innovation. Some who had seen glass at Quilimane,
informed the others of its strange qualities. A dark deputation visited
the white people, and represented that these dishes were “all the same
as eggs,” and that the waiters would have serious difficulty in keeping
a tumbler together. Feeling the force of these representations, the
Europeans took the tumblers under special protection for a time. But
as in all such cases, a day of reckoning was sure to come. The natives
carry plates, tumblers, and everything of this kind on the head. To them
this habit is so much a second nature that if asked to fetch a kettle
of boiling water, their first impulse I fancy would be to set it on the
head! Still they thus carry things with a steadiness most surprising. I
was once much struck with the expertness of a little girl who was sent
to a brook for water. She picked up a very narrow bottle about 18 inches
long; although her hands were both empty she set it on her head, walked
off to fill it, and returned carrying it the same way. Such is the usual
custom; and hence though the native can make baskets of every variety
he never puts a handle on one of them. In carrying soup, they balance
the plate on the palm of their hand, which they throw back above the
shoulder. Their method is better suited for jars than for plates.

[Illustration: METHOD OF CARRYING IN THE HAND.]

The missionary party had to be their own bakers, butchers, and what not.
When settled in such a district a man learns for the first time how many
manipulations are required before he can have dinner. The first-comers
made it a rule never to see the cooking. What the natives brought they
got through as well as they could, but they suspected that if they looked
at all the cooking processes their peace would be broken. On one occasion
two of us were at Zomba. I was suffering slightly from over-work, and
enjoyed a change of labour. We were much delighted with a supply of
goat’s milk, which a boy brought each day. After school I used to sit in
the verandah studying the language. I often observed a piece of cloth
lying on the ground at the foot of the wall. It had once been white, but
was now very dingy. It was generally damp, and covered with sand and
mud. Further, it had an attraction for the playful toes of the group of
natives that were always about me. I had a vague idea that it was used
for cleaning the lamps, and regarded the rag with a kind of affection.
But one morning my companion shouted out, “Look here! Just fancy! See the
abominable thing that he puts our milk through!” The boy was carefully
straining the milk which we so much appreciated by means of the dirty
piece of cloth. At once all the enchantment of that rag was gone, and so
was the enjoyment of our nice milk. But the boy’s diligence was quite
commendable: he might fancy that the white people strained milk in order
to effect a “charm,” and so far as he saw, one rag was as good as another.

On our first arrival we often had dishes that tempted curiosity; but an
appeal to the senior members of the Mission was always answered with
a suggestive quotation of the maxim “Where ignorance is bliss, &c.”
Seldom, therefore, did the processes of Meg Dods’ art, as practised
by the natives, engage attention. Sometimes a boy was asked, “Do you
call that roast fowl?” He listened to the implied rebuke with a marked
air of penitence; but as soon as he rejoined his companions outside,
he repeated, “Do you call that roastee fowlee? Ha! ha! ha!” and there
followed a burst of loud and prolonged laughter, which greatly amused
the Europeans also. The white man’s mess was tacitly regarded as common
property, but if the cook happened to be on bad terms with the various
“tasters,” the affair might become public. One day I was addressing
a class, everything was calm and still, the pupils sat in respectful
attention, the subject had advanced to the point of greatest interest,
when all at once, a boy dashed into school with a half-eaten potato, and
the cook dashed after him with a ladle. The interruption was a grave
misdemeanour. But the cook called out in great indignation, “I am cooking
for the white men and not for this boy!” The little boy had evidently
regarded the school as a house of refuge, could he only reach it before
his pursuer. But the building had no doors, and many large holes for
windows as well as a large doorway, and before they were aware, they had
both committed themselves, and might expect to be much laughed at. The
natives, however, were usually too prudent to let these things come to
light.

Baking was not without its difficulties. Bread was made at first by means
of the native beer, and was exceedingly sour. Still those that had become
accustomed to it generally took it without a murmur. Occasionally a
native of some originality would bake several loaves with water alone,
only this was apt to cause considerable criticism.

In many articles native taste differs from European. Though few natives
eat eggs (C), those that do, resemble the Hottentots, who are said to
take kindly to eggs that would “alarm a European at six paces’ distance!”
Before the use of spoons was properly understood, our servants attempted
to take the eggs out of boiling water with their fingers, one half
standing to laugh at the experiment, while the other half tried to carry
it out!

In times of health one enjoyed these amateur cooks and their productions,
but when sickness came, the joke was not so well appreciated. After an
attack of malarial fever passes away, the invalid often has strange
cravings of appetite. Forgetting for the moment where he is, he expresses
a wish for “bread and butter”. He can eat nothing else but he fancies he
could take this. He is soon reminded that butter cannot be had, and the
sour bread alone would hardly tempt even a healthy man. But what about
milk? Why not let the poor fellow have a little milk? This is ordered,
and the invalid has his hopes raised. After a long time the milk appears.
But what makes the sick man hesitate so? He looks as if he were going to
ask what the milk was made of. The new-comer may have yet to learn that
there are no milk-strainers in this part of the world! Sometimes he may
be glad if he get water. The water used on the Mission was taken from
the little stream and was very unwholesome. Still it had the advantage
of being quite cool in the morning. At Nyassa on the other hand, when a
person ordered water he would wonder whether it had been taken from the
kettle instead of the Lake, and be tempted to think it must be useful
chiefly as an emetic, but after being placed for some time in an earthen
pot, it becomes cool and agreeable.

There was a certain provision made for sickness but of a very limited
description. Beef-tea was in the store; as was also a little wine, but
the supply was generally so small that it could not be used except in
extremity. At one period there was only a single cork screw on the
settlement, so that when the Doctor ordered a bottle of wine the invalid
had to wait for the man that possessed the screw!

We had two great methods of dealing with the difficulties of
housekeeping—training the natives and ordering appliances from home.
The education of the natives was slow but it was sure, and in time some
of them began to be very useful. Appliances were ordered from home, but
often just when we fancied we were about to be properly supplied we were
informed that our valuable boxes had been stolen on the way.

Regarding the _school-work_ we wrote at this time, “The natives are
beginning to see meaning in our teaching. One of our more advanced boys
put to me the question, ‘What must I do to receive the Holy Spirit?’ He
said he was wicked, and had much need of the Holy Spirit to make him
better. We are glad that the Sabbath-school children of Scotland take
an interest in our pupils. Some of our boys and girls they would like
very much. They might at first shrink from them because they are black,
but after a time they would find them attractive. I could show them some
broad little figures with broad little faces beaming with fun and good
temper. Some of our pupils would run if they were to see white children;
but after the first fright was over they would come near, and soon become
good friends. The other day I was at the back of a hill where children
had never seen a white man before, and they all took to their heels; but
after a short time they gathered round me, and when I spoke to them and
showed them my watch and my boots, they became better acquainted; and
as we shook hands, some of them said they would like to go to Blantyre
to school. If we could send home photographs of our pupils, the school
children would have a better idea of them. They would then wonder a good
deal at the woolly heads and flat noses. Before we came here all the
women and girls had their upper lips bored to hold a large ugly ring,
which made them a terrible fright; but now they are laying aside this
custom. I told all our black pupils that the children in Scotland were
sending them clothes and money, and they were delighted. One said that
he would like to know English, to be able to thank the white children.
Another said—‘Tell the children that we are glad to hear they are
good, and can read about God. Mrs. Macdonald and all the white men are
very kind to us, and teach us about God. Before, we knew nothing, but
now we can understand a little, and we thank the children very much.’
The communion of the Lord’s Supper has now been celebrated twice at
Blantyre. Dr. Laws was present on both occasions, and addressed us after
the ordinance. We called in the more advanced boys as witnesses of the
rite. Hitherto we have not baptised any natives. I am not so familiar
with their language as I should like to be before doing so. Meanwhile
our teaching is so carried on that I should not wonder though some soon
ask admission to the ordinance. I pray that we may be directed in these
matters; they will mark a crisis of spiritual life among our pupils.

“I have written out about 40 pages of Scripture matter in the Yao
language, which I shall send down to Lovedale to be printed. Attempts of
this kind will show the natives the use of reading.”

The natives are fond of paying compliments, and by this time Kumlomba
would tell me that I had finished Yao. I proposed therefore that he
should now teach me Chinyasa, but he said, “If you speak Yao for
another year, you will understand Chinyasa without learning it”. I
found afterwards that the native was not far wrong. It is well for the
Missionary not to attempt at first to speak more than one language. Thus
he might expect that after seven or eight years’ persistent training he
could wield the weapon with considerable effect, though I fear he would
fall behind the native orator by an immense distance. We all know what
a mess many a man makes of a foreign language after he thinks he has
acquired it. But though only speaking one tongue, the Missionary might
write as many as he pleases, for the various dialects throw much light on
each other.

In trying to form a native reading book, I had to grapple with all the
difficulties of the native language. Not only so but I required to form
a special vocabulary for Theology. Hence the first three months of this
year was a time of very hard study, but I succeeded in drawing up a small
Reading book, and forming at the same time an extensive vocabulary. From
this period, and during my whole stay in Africa, I used at least twenty
native words for every English word that I employed, and latterly the
English proportion became still smaller. But often in my efforts at
translation I had to pause a while in despair, and devote more time to
writing down native tales. For a long period we had nothing but English
books. This is one great disadvantage that new Missions have to contend
with. Had we possessed Yao books at the outset, the great part of the
school would have been able by this time to read their own language.
As it was, many could read English very fluently—although they did not
understand it. A free-thinker who frankly declared that he did not
believe in Missions, expressed much surprise on hearing English read
by some boys that had not known a single letter a twelvemonth before.
Their drill in English was by no means lost for, when our printed matter
arrived, we had fifty pupils that could read it without hesitation.

During this period there occurred an episode that was invested with
all “the pomp and circumstance of glorious war”. Chelomoni, a Blantyre
headman, was attacked when on a journey by another headman, and had
his wife taken from him. He was himself wounded by an arrow, and came
to the Station bleeding very profusely. The outrage called for some
remonstrance, and Chelomoni’s villagers at once prepared to march upon
the offender, and some of the white men thought it best to accompany. As
the party approached the village, the inhabitants came out to meet them,
and to ask what was to be done in view of the action of their headman.
They explained at the same time that the guilty man had run away. After
some consultation it was agreed to set fire to his huts, and the men
belonging to the village, some of whom had been patients of Dr. Macklin,
shewed which huts were owned by the aggressor, and after the valuables
were all carried out, fire was applied. In such a case Chelomoni being
the injured party was the proper person to punish. But if the Directors
at home assumed that the Mission was a colony with Chelomoni for a
subject then it would become the duty of the Mission to punish, and the
native punishment for such offences is to make war on the offending
village, and obtain damages by capturing slaves. As it was, the presence
of the white men that happened to be there, did much to calm the opposing
parties.

The Directors hoped that the Mission would become self-supporting, but
although the territory that belonged to the settlement was about 600
square miles, this result was far from being attained. They advised
extended cultivation, but it was gradually discovered that this meant
extended loss. Dr. Macklin, however, made an arrangement that promised
to be remunerative. He gave some of the villagers an allowance of powder
with which they went out in search of elephants. When they killed an
elephant, the Mission was presented with one of the tusks and bought
the other at a fixed rate. This plan was afterwards largely adopted by
various traders. But soon the natives began to take advantage of the
white men. They would beg a large supply of powder, representing that
they had seen a herd of elephants, and after hunting for several weeks
and even trading with the powder, they would come back to report that
they had shot an elephant which had no tusks!




CHAPTER X.

SECOND HALF—CONTINUED.


Besides stealing articles that were on the way to the Mission, the
natives gave considerable annoyance by pilfering at the station itself.
Before becoming accustomed to the heat of the country, we preferred to
sleep with the windows open. At Quilimane our landlord would not permit
this, but bolted all the window shutters “to prevent the blacks from
coming in”. But at Blantyre we ventured for some time to keep a window
open at night, and, strange to tell, no one came in. Becoming more used
to the climate, we shut our windows; but one night thieves broke into our
house, and took everything that was of value to them. Most of our goods
they carried outside and spread before the window. Then they selected
everything that was made of cloth. Many things that we could hardly have
done without, such as waterproofs, &c., they fortunately left. Books
also escaped, while they carefully placed some silver articles off the
table, in order that they might carry off the tablecloth. Anything that
has the appearance of “calico” at once appeals to the natives’ cupidity.
When we were honoured by the visit of a great chief, our royal guest
carefully felt first the tablecloth, then the window-blinds, and after
that the paper on the walls! It was not our neighbours that had committed
the theft, for they had long seen the windows kept open all night, and
had not entered. All who had been in the Mission during the previous
thefts blamed the Anyasa people. After this, two night watchmen were
employed, and bamboo shutters were fixed on the windows. But for many
months the station was beset with thieves, who had been encouraged by
this success. It was chiefly by windows that they tried to enter, though
occasionally they pushed the doors till the rafters of our little houses
cracked. Each night before retiring to rest we piled empty tins behind
every window, so that they might fall and frighten the robbers. But to
our great annoyance, the rats frequently knocked these down. We had no
ambition to catch a thief in the act, for in that case we should have
likely felt the sharpness of his assagai. For a long time we were in
a miserable condition. While we had the hardest work during the day,
we could never enjoy a night of undisturbed repose. On one occasion
nearly all the cloth windows in two of the houses were cut by thieves.
It almost seemed that a band of housebreakers had encamped near us, for
the express purpose of besieging the station. They carried on their
operations with great coolness, for when they laid hold of a tin of
split peas, they opened it and left it beside the house. They were too
knowing to trouble themselves with the carriage of anything that was
unsuitable. They would at times plait a ladder to reach a store window,
and go off leaving the ladder beside the wall. The watchmen were of no
service; they sometimes became plunderers themselves, and disappeared
before morning. The first parties that were employed as watchmen came
from the same chief as the thieves, and were probably glad of their
position in order to assist their friends. As the natives wear no boots
and hardly any clothing, they can break into houses without making much
noise. Still the Europeans became very expert in attending to everything
that betokened the presence of a thief. Our houses were full of rats,
which are here better equipped for making a disturbance than rats are
in England. It was Livingstone, I think, that first complained of the
laughing rats of the Zambeze! These inmates of our dwellings not content
with biting our fingers, knocking down tins, and dancing at large over
everything that was capable of giving out a noise, aspired to divert us
by going into fits of loud laughter! All this performance, it will be
thought, made the task of the housebreaker more easy. Yet it sometimes
produced the very opposite effect. When the rats discontinued their
dance, the European was at once all ear. “My rats are quiet. What _can_
be the matter? There must either be a snake on the verandah, or a robber
at the window.” This reasoning, strange as it may seem, led, at least, on
one occasion, to very important results. But the thieves gave indications
of their presence in various other ways. As I lay one night in bed,
the moon which seems always to shine brightly here, cast the shadow of
a native on the calico window. The man’s movements were suspicious:
although he would not contemplate anything more serious than theft; yet
so small was our room that a native could have easily given us the full
benefit of his assagai as we lay in bed. I thought that this chance of
scaring a thief was too good to be lost, and I fired a revolver bullet
through the calico. From the man’s shadow I could easily see where he
stood, and so avoid the risk of striking him. It need scarcely be said
that he disappeared at once. As we were all expected to get up on any
nocturnal disturbance, the other members of the Mission were over in a
few minutes, but could find no trace of the person, and it was not likely
that the same individual would return that night. Several nights after
this, a noise was heard at midnight in our larger room. I got up and
stood before one of the windows for a long time, till I began to shiver
with cold. But everything was quiet except that I could hear our two
watchmen snoring very loudly under a large tree not far from our door.
Becoming tired with waiting, and wishing also to rouse the watchmen, I
fired the revolver through the calico as before, when to my surprise,
I heard a great scamper. A thief had really been at the window. In his
rapid retreat he threw away his bow. The calico in the window was cut in
the usual way, but so quietly had he been working, that even although I
had been sitting awake in the dark room, he might have ultimately entered
without my hearing him! Afterwards we kept a lamp burning all night,
and I had only to carry it to the window where a thief was, in order to
secure his instant departure. We often wondered why negroes who were so
lazy at work, put themselves to so much trouble in order to steal. But
their thieving propensities are everywhere recognised. When we were at
Quilimane, I remember that after the custom-house was closed for the
night, Dr. Macklin was asked by the Portuguese authorities to send a
watch in order to protect the goods that he was taking out. Blantyre men
were accordingly armed with guns and cautioned against falling asleep.
Up at the Mission, Makukani was believed to be the instigator of all the
pilfering. The other Magololo said that if the English would visit him
on a beer-drinking, they would see all their stolen clothes and dresses.
After a great “take,” this chief would send up requesting the present of
a box to hold his clothes! When spoken to by Dr. Macklin on the subject,
he was quite pleasant, but of course, declared that he knew nothing of
the thefts. To put a stop if possible to this annoyance we determined
to surround the station with a hedge of thorn, and take various other
precautions.

But before these improvements could be carried out, we were made still
more alive to the dangers of our position. In the beginning of June,
I wrote to the Committee to the following effect:—“On looking at the
journal of last month, I see that the greater part of the time has passed
without anything noteworthy. Happy, it has been said, are the people that
have no history; still there are a few items that we could have ‘spared’.
On 21st May an attempt was made at fire-raising, which would have been
serious if successful. Our own house was chosen, as being to windward of
the others, and at midnight we were visited by a man who carried a few
embers in a clay-pot, and set fire to the roof. Our roofs are merely
grass, tied down with bamboo. But for an ever-watchful Providence, the
whole house would soon have been in flames. The incendiary had waited
for a windy night, his plan being to burn all the houses in the same
row. If this house had been set fairly ablaze, one half of the station
would have been demolished. But one of the artisans on the opposite side
of the square being sleepless on account of ill-health, observed the
glare through his calico window, and at once gave the alarm. The bugle
was sounded, and all the natives turned out, as well as ourselves. By
means of a good supply of water and wet blankets, we soon extinguished
the flames. We have since taken several steps with a view to additional
security. We are giving every attention to the watch at night. We have
not swords, as you suggest; and a native would be of more service with
his assagai on an emergency. Hitherto the watch has been armed with
guns. You are anxious that natives should not form an acquaintance with
fire-arms, but the country is already full of them. One can hardly take a
walk to Ndilande without meeting half-a-dozen men with guns. In a single
day’s march here, a person sees more guns than he would see in Scotland
in a six days’ journey. Another precaution has been the cutting down of
the bush for several hundred yards round the station. Hitherto, a native
had to run but a few yards in order to make his capture impossible. To
prevent fire we have had our houses covered with a coating of clay, thin
on the top, and thicker on the veranda. The rainy season will probably
wash off this; but it will serve its purpose, as roofs are not so easily
set on fire during the rains.

“The best way of securing the goodwill of the natives is to mingle much
with them. Those in our neighbourhood are all most friendly, but they
are impulsive. I must explain that I have thought it my duty to stick
closely to school work, so that my time for visiting in the country is
not much. But Dr. Macklin and I have begun to spend Saturday forenoons
in going about among the people. The other week we were at the back of
Sochi where there is a good view of the Mlanje range. I had been reading,
for the first time, Mr. Rowley’s book on the Universities’ Mission, and
it gave a new interest to the prospect that lay before us. As we stood
gazing on the very valley that our predecessors must have passed through
to Magomero, we felt that we were amidst hallowed associations. We cannot
help thinking that the dealings of Providence were very mysterious with
regard to a Mission so well equipped.

“Our new villages show much improvement. Instead of the original little
round hut the Blantyre natives are beginning to erect square houses
with verandahs and calico windows. It would be desirable to spread our
energies over a larger field. When we succeed in planting one or two
stations this end will be gained. We cannot predict what course our work
will take in the future. After we have a few stations besides Blantyre,
we may be able to subdivide the district thus occupied into twenty
parishes. Were we at this stage, we could secure for the native pastors
an endowment in the form of a small freehold. Such an organisation as
this would, with the blessing of God, tell strongly on the heathenism
of the country; but the attainment of such an end, whether it be near
or distant, will not be secured without many a prayer, and many a
persevering effort both of the Church at home and of its representatives
in this distant land.”

After the Mission Directors recommended extension, we turned our thoughts
to Mlanje and to Zomba. Dr. Macklin went to the former district, but
found the country very unsettled. At one place he underwent considerable
anxiety, and his men kept awake all night, but he was relieved by
discovering that his interpreter was acquainted with one of the chiefs.
The Doctor wrote, “This was a very pleasant discovery, and quite set
my mind at rest. The chief said he knew the English were friends; he
knew them long ago when he lived on the coast; how that the English had
saved his people from being enslaved by the Portuguese; and how the
English ships of war used to capture dhows and set the slaves free. He
was glad to have a visit from us, and expressed himself pleased at the
prospect of the English coming to stay amongst his people to teach their
children, as he knew learning was good. Next morning I received a present
of a fine goat, a large quantity of rice and native beer. I had another
interview with him. I told him I wished to explore the district and visit
Matapwiri. He thereupon earnestly recommended me not to go to the other
side of Mlanje, or go up the hills, or visit Matapwiri at present, but to
come back again, and then he himself or his brother would be my guide.
He said I was likely to get into trouble if I went on now. He asked me
to stay a few days among his people, to let them get acquainted with me.
He said he was sorry he must go away that day, but he was desirous his
people should learn more of me. He also expressed his regret that the
people in the first village had given me trouble, and he was angry with
them. Indeed, he went that way to take away the present from the headman.”

Then the chief departed to carry on his wars. We kept up communication
with him to the last. Various presents were exchanged, and on one
occasion he sent over his young son on a visit to Blantyre.

Meanwhile the Mission was steadily advancing in every department. Details
may be gathered from the following extracts:—

“By this time many natives are more decently clothed. Saturday is the
great washing-day, so that on Sunday we have quite a respectable (not to
say a gaudy) congregation.

“The dresses with bright and variegated colours have been highly
prized, especially by the school children and the females. Some of the
men, however, are not so much influenced by colour in selecting their
garments. They are so utilitarian that they form an opinion of a dress
only after giving it a few good ‘tugs’.

“Our pupils make marked progress. We have two boys that did not know a
single letter last year, who can now read the 37th Psalm. I have set one
class to read the metrical version of the psalms, as the rhyme pleases
them. They also gain insight into our language, by reading the poetical
version along with the prose one.”

We had long felt the necessity of building larger houses, and had
thought of various plans. Turf houses were suggested, but none of us
had ever seen turf in this country. Bricks were next spoken of. But Dr.
Macklin, learning that the earth of the ant-hills could be used for
mortar, proposed to build with stone, and Mr. Buchanan in a very short
time reared the walls of the first stone house that had been seen in
this region. Its erection gave the mission a new standing altogether.
The natives had been of opinion that in a short time we should become
tired of them and go away like our predecessors. But when they saw that
we no longer built _masakasa_, as they said the “Magomero Mission had
also done,” they reasoned that we gave more promise of a permanent stay.
Besides, the white people had children on whom many hopes were placed.

Kapeni’s sister paid Mrs. Macdonald a visit of compliment on the birth of
her son, and asked to see the white baby. She brought with her a little
girl of about six years, and made some hints to the effect that she would
like a marriage with the white people! She said the young Scotchman was
a Yao child, and I replied that I had little doubt he would soon speak
Yao. When asked whether she would leave the little girl for school, she
said she would attend school with “_him_”! The natives, although afraid
that their own children would not learn to read, never admitted the same
doubts regarding the white child, who had the medicine of its fathers.

By the end of this half-year I was able to converse with the natives
sufficiently well to profit by their instructions in the language. From
morning till noon and from noon till night, I kept noting down native
words wherever I heard them, and I hired special teachers besides. Having
realised from the beginning that the first work of a Missionary was to
acquire the language of his people, I was daily discovering that the best
way of mastering an unwritten tongue was to note down native tales. By
this time I could write as follows:—

“I am glad that I have advanced so far in the language as to have
overcome the mere drudgery part. I now pay special attention to the
idioms. From twelve noon till two every day I have a man engaged to give
me stories, for which I pay him in handkerchiefs, needles, or soap. I
write down these tales to dictation, and occasionally in shorthand. I
believe that in a little I shall be able to utilise phonography in this
language for private use, and thus save much time. The tense-sequence is
more simple than I at first thought; the natives have a device like what
Hebrew grammar has called the Waw consecutive. Thus, when they speak of
the past, they put the first verb in the past indicative, while the rest
of the verbs in the series are infinitives.

“These people are not destitute of a traditional literature: they have
a great many riddles, which I am trying to collect. They have also many
tales. At the head of these there is an account of the first man; this
is followed up by genealogies of all the tribes in their neighbourhood;
then there comes a long catalogue of wars and consequent famines,
interspersed at intervals with times of peace and prosperity. I have
also accounts of their important ceremonies, some of which are very
objectionable, and much resemble practices that were associated with the
idolatry of ancient Israel. Some particulars my informant communicated
in a whisper; others were ‘hidden,’ and if he revealed them he would
die. The man that has been my chief instructor is anxious to get ‘our
stories,’ by which he means the stories in the Bible. After coming to
Africa and seeing the effect of Scripture narratives on the native mind,
my appreciation of the Old Testament history has been much deepened. To
take one instance. The natives were greatly impressed with the incident
in the history of David, where he had Saul in his power and spared
him—they considered David’s action a most admirable one.

“Congregations at home are anxious to get truth in a more abstract form,
and would consider time wasted if the sermon were taken up with these
simple stories; but these natives like to ruminate on every particular,
and to conceive the whole narrative as vividly as possible. Though we,
from familiarity, look on these narratives as simple, people hearing them
for the first time may recognise in them not only a divine sublimity, but
a supernatural intellectual power.”

When we reached the Mission last year, the natives used to bring large
numbers of fowls for sale: at first they brought more than could be used.
They were equally ready to sell eggs. Moreover, when there was a rumour
of war in the district, they fetched in fowls from every quarter, for
when they had to run to the hills they could carry their “money” more
easily than their fowls. The effect of all this was that the native
villagers in the neighbourhood soon sold off their stock, and as a
consequence the Missionaries had no meat. On fowls we depended almost
entirely, for though the Magololo had a few sheep and goats, they did not
care to sell them. Various means were tried in order to keep the wolf
from the door. In the early days of the Mission, before there was much
to do, and when most of the staff were unwell, it had been possible to
tell off an invalid to look after the fowls, but all of us were too busy
now. We adopted the plan of giving fowls over to villagers, and we soon
found that if they could not take better care of them than the white
man they could always _account for_ them better, for every now and then
they were able to report that a dozen had been killed by a leopard! But
the matter became serious—we often found ourselves without food. On one
occasion we had to live chiefly on beans for nearly five weeks. The only
good solution of this difficulty was found when we planted a new Mission.
To it we looked for a supply till the Blantyre district recovered itself.
Many a time the petition for daily bread had a significance for us here
that it never had in Britain. It might be supposed that a Missionary is
in danger of becoming less spiritually-minded when surrounded by the
heathen. But on the contrary, not to mention the solemn call which he
feels when he is face to face with heathendom, he is apt to realize his
dependence on God much more vividly than in a civilized land. Each night
he knows that a drunk native might easily burn him in his hut before he
awakes.

_Trading._ In a short time the African Lakes Company began to exert an
influence in the country. Its agents brought out a steamer to ply between
Mazaro and the Mission settlements. The intention was to aid the Missions
and encourage the natives in commerce. The negroes, it was felt, might
easily wonder what could be the object of the Missionary, but they could
all understand the object of the Trader. Hitherto the great trade of
the country had been in slaves, nor could a native chief be expected
to lay aside this traffic all at once, seeing, as he did, no harm in
dealing in human flesh and blood. He pleaded, and that truly, that he
had nothing to sell but slaves. Some legitimate trade required therefore
to be introduced. In dealing with the natives, Trading Companies would
evidently have to face great difficulties. Unfortunately these negroes
had learned to look to all traders for rum and powder. Besides, as time
is of no value to the native, he demands for his goods the same price in
the interior that he would get at the coast. Like the Missionary, the
Trader in such lands has to educate the people gradually. But the Trading
Company soon conferred a great boon on the Mission Stations. At first
we had always great difficulty in getting ordinary stores from England.
For a long time while we had plenty of tea we had no sugar, on other
occasions while we had plenty of sugar we had no tea! But the superior
means of communication put an end to these difficulties.

This company is desirous of opening up the country by making a road
as far as Lake Tanganyika. This is certainly a very good programme.
When operations are extended over such a large field, no doubt, many
difficulties may be expected. On one occasion a chief robbed and murdered
no fewer than fourteen natives that were employed by the company, and
when a party went back to remonstrate, another man lost his life in the
scuffle. But the making of roads is a work that the natives much like,
and which soon advances the civilization of a district.

_Field for Emigration._ Livingstone as he passed through this region
often thought of the poor in his native land. He knew how human beings
were crowded together in large cities, where they seldom saw a green
field or enjoyed the pure air. There they lived, cast aside into some
filthy street to be hidden as it were from the more respectable citizens.
Might not this hard fate be modified? The vast unpeopled plains and
mountains of Africa impressed us with the lesson that Great Britain is
but a little part of God’s vast world.

The state of the lake region of Africa just now, points back to what
Britain must have been many centuries before Christianity reached it. If
we had then sailed up the Thames or the Clyde in some canoe, we should
have seen only an occasional savage clad perhaps in skins, who would
quickly rush in terror into the dense jungle. Could the man of those
primitive days now revisit his old haunts, he would not recognise them. A
greater contrast could scarcely be imagined. What in his time was a swamp
is now a railway station, places then quite impassable by reason of bush
and branches are now busy streets, spots which were then a barren waste
are now fertile farms. For every person that could subsist in the country
then, there are thousands now. With reference to Africa, many Englishmen
say that if Britain instead of Portugal had held the coast, the country
would have been already opened up. The remark looks invidious, but in
any case it cannot change the past, and those who have at heart the sad
condition of the African must seek to improve the present. I have no
doubt that settlers willing to endure the hardships common in uncivilised
countries, would by steady perseverance soon make themselves comfortable
homes. Sugar grows well in the district. The natives have the cane,
though they know nothing of the manufactured article. Tobacco also grows
everywhere. The same may be said of India-rubber. Cotton is indigenous,
and flax thrives well. Coffee has succeeded, and it is almost certain
that tea would. Oil seeds (like the castor-oil bean, ground nuts and
sesamum) are abundant. Native labour is cheap. The rate of wages at one
time was a foot of calico per day for each man, and nine inches for a
woman; and as the Mission had always more applicants for work than could
be received, even this small wage was reduced. Still, parties settling
far inland would not gain by exporting, as for a long time the expense of
carriage must be high.

One thing much to be regretted in connection with the opening up of the
country for commerce is the wholesale destruction of the elephant. At
every port along the East coast the mail steamers receive tons of ivory.
It is a pity that the African elephant cannot be utilised in some other
way. Unless the noble animals have some mercy shown them, they will
speedily become extinct.




CHAPTER XI.

THIRD HALF. JULY, 1879-DEC., 1879.


Mlanje district having proved too unsettled for Mission Work, our
thoughts turned to Zomba, where there was greater quietness. The Rev.
Horace Waller said that he had ever looked upon this great mountain as a
‘Land of Promise’. Its height gave us good reason for expecting that a
healthy site could be found in its neighbourhood. We started for Zomba
on _July 30_. It was 8·45 before we had all the carriers in motion. I
went off in front, while Mr. Buchanan brought up the rear. We carried
with us provisions for a month, and tools to build a house if we should
find a good settlement with friendly natives. As we crossed the shoulder
of Ndilande, our march was quite an ovation, the natives running from
every village to salute us. Two hours from Blantyre brought us to a
wooded plain, uninhabited but well watered, in which we proceeded for two
hours more, till we reached a village on the side of Cherasulo at one
o’clock. After resting for two hours we resumed our journey, which now
lay through a valley at the foot of Cherasulo—a most fertile spot, with
sparkling brooks and gigantic trees.

At this point one of our carriers fell behind, and could not be found. He
managed his little trick so skilfully that I did not understand it till
long after. When we started we intended to pass Mkanda’s, but on further
inquiry we resolved to go by Kumpama’s. On our change of route becoming
known, this poor carrier who had been a slave of Kumpama’s, contrived to
‘miss the way,’ although beside his old home. He then ‘wandered a long
time is search of us’ and at last returned to Blantyre. I mention this to
shew the reserve of the natives. All knew the facts as well as I do now,
but no one hinted at them and we were left to suppose, if we liked, that
the carrier had run off and stolen his load.

That night we pitched our tent in the village of a ‘brother’ of
Mityoche’s, who treated us with great kindness. Since the expedition to
Mlanje had caused so much anxiety we took the opportunity at this place
of writing back to Blantyre, and two of the villagers were very willing
to act as postmen.

On _July 31_ we resumed at 7 o’clock hardly expecting to see a single
habitation till we were near Zomba. But there are a few hamlets a little
way off the path. One large village we reached at 9, and there we rested
before entering the desert. We partook of breakfast while our carriers
regaled themselves with native beer. As the ‘English’ are held in high
estimation as Physicians, a poor man covered with a kind of leprosy was
brought to us here. At 11·20 we came to the Namasi, the largest stream
we had yet crossed. The road is uniformly level. It seems as if nature
had meant it for a railway. On the sides, here and there, are rocky
heights rising about 150 feet above the plain. 1·50 P.M. brought us to
the Ntondwe, another large stream. After 3 the descent was gradual,
almost imperceptible, till we reached, at the foot of Zomba, a fine
stream called the Likangala, by the side of which at 5·30 we pitched our
tent under the shadow of the great mountain. At this spot there are some
villages on sites as beautiful as could be conceived. The inhabitants are
numerous and intelligent. They have had much intercourse with the coast,
which they can reach in about seven days. Their chief is Chemlumbe. All
the people were exceedingly kind and each headman recommended us to stay
beside himself. The Cherasulo people could not see why we preferred
Zomba, and Chemlumbe’s subjects were sure that we would settle with him.

_Aug. 1._—We started for Chemlumbe’s own residence. He wished us to rest
three days before doing anything. This is an example of some of the lazy
customs of the country. But there are certain principles in human nature
quite as strong as habit: through the offer of two shirts we procured a
guide, and by twelve o’clock we stood on the top of Zomba. Once there, we
went round the whole of the side towards Blantyre, and the whole of the
side towards Chirwa. To our disappointment we found that, at the nearest
point, the lake was at a great distance from the base of Zomba. One hill
called Chikala is nearer the lake only our guide said that it was the
chosen abode of war and tsetse. By the time we were ready to descend the
mountain, it was dark. Our guide had left us in the afternoon because we
were going too far in the direction of a hostile chief called Malemya.
We were not sure whether to sleep on the hill or to press onwards in the
moonlight. Ultimately we resolved to press on. Our men were so tired that
they preferred to stay behind and we went on alone, though very faint,
having eaten nothing since morning. Before we had gone fifteen minutes
Buchanan, who was leading, declared that it would be a difficult descent,
and in about fifteen minutes more we were in a perfect ‘fix’. At one
point it seemed to be quite impossible to go down, while it was nearly
equally difficult to go back. We kept struggling for about two hours.
Once we thought of lying down till the moon came round; at another time
we proceeded to take off our clothing to serve as a rope by which we
might project ourselves to a certain tree. We cannot be too thankful that
this last plan was abandoned, as we should have reached the tree only to
be precipitated down hundreds of feet of perpendicular rock. The want
of food, and the exertions of the day, had made us exceedingly weak; we
could hardly speak. But we did not lose our trust in God; and it gave us
comfort to think that we were not forgotten by praying people at home. In
a short time we found a less dangerous path, and reached a stream about
midnight. A few draughts of its delicious water made up for want of food;
and in a short time we tried to wade down the channel, as having thus the
easiest passage to the foot of the mountain. In the stream our progress
was no longer obstructed by bush, but we encountered large slippery
stones. One or two falls among these convinced us that the mountain must
be our abode all night. We found a level stone for a bed, and a few logs,
which made a fire. One of us was to sleep, the other to watch and scare
the wild beasts. I was constituted watchman, as Buchanan who was better
acquainted with Chemlumbe was to bring round the carriers next day.

_Aug. 2._—In the morning we were as fresh as could be expected, and urged
on by hunger, we resumed our journey as soon as we could see. We now
discovered that we had reason to be thankful for not having attempted
to descend farther in the night. Towards the foot of the mountain we
found timber, bamboos, and other requisites for building, growing more
plentifully than at Blantyre. Having started at six we reached a native
village—Kalimbuka’s—about eight, and our knowledge of the language at
once recommended us to the people. We allayed the pangs of hunger by
devouring a few raw eggs, which we bought for a handkerchief. Though
some of these had been taken from under a hen as usual, we found as many
fresh as served our purpose. Then we made a meal of sweet potatoes which
were roasted among the ashes. After we had time to examine ourselves
we found our clothes had been cut by our falls among the stones the
previous night. An aneroid barometer which we laid down in the chiefs
verandah, soon collected a great crowd. The chief had tried to catch
the hands below the glass! and was so much surprised at his failure
that he called his people. They were all still more surprised when I
produced my watch. They thought the larger hand might be a “picture”
but they saw the seconds hand actually moving, yet despite all their
efforts, they could not catch it. Every man in the village had to try
the experiment for himself before he was convinced. A brave old veteran
who had slain his hundreds, came forward perfectly certain that he
could take hold of the “little stick”. He pushed aside the rest of the
people with an air of contempt—they were good for nothing if they could
not hold that stick. They made way for the mighty man who placed his
forefinger opposite his large thumb and pounced upon the watch glass
with the greatest confidence. He repeated the attack again and again,
but the seconds hand still kept moving on as before. Gradually a puzzled
look crept over his face, and the crowd raised a loud laugh, while the
warrior tried to cover his defeat, by saying, “Can you catch hold of it,
father?” By the time that the men had all tried to catch the “stick,”
the female population paused amidst the labours of their busier life,
and came forward in a body to see the phenomenon that had so puzzled
their husbands. They showed equal astonishment. The watch opened with
the usual spring. And being anxious to get an illustration of the “post
hoc, propter hoc” fallacy, I invited one man to blow upon the back of
it, when to his astonishment, the lid opened at once! After this all the
villagers crowded round for the purpose of blowing on the watch, and
they clapped their hands and huzzaed, when the lid always opened! Before
the exhibition had finished, every villager had to put the watch to his
ear to hear what it said. Then he told his friends that it said, “Telu!
telu! telu!” The natives often gave an interpretation of sounds which
was different from ours. According to them a cat does not say “mew,” but
“nyao”.

In the course of the day, our goods were brought round from Chemlumbe’s,
who seemed offended because we had not settled at his village which was
unfortunately unsuitable. Chemlumbe is related to Mityoche, and had we
settled with him, the latter might have always allowed our carriers to
pass in peace. We asked Kalimbuka whether we could get leave to choose
a spot in his neighbourhood, and he was delighted with the idea. But
wishing to observe every little point of native manners, we requested him
to take us first to Malemya, the chief of the whole district.

_Sunday, August 3._—We held two services in the native language, which
were well attended. When we repeated the Lord’s prayer, our new friends
specially noted its last petition, “Deliver us from evil”.[5]

_Monday, August 4._—With Kalimbuka’s son as guide we set out for
Malemya’s. In this journey we found more traces of foreign influence than
are seen at Blantyre. We met with one man that could speak Swahili, and
with another that had been the slave of some Portuguese planter. When
we expressed a doubt as to whether a Portuguese slave would run so far
inland, Bismark said, “There can be no doubt about the matter, if you
look at his side, you may see the mark!” and so it was. When the man
raised his arm, we found that he had a brand on the side.

On reaching Malemya’s, we asked an interview with the chief. After
some delay, an old man who was evidently a great snuff-taker, made his
appearance, and announced himself as Malemya. We shewed him all the
tokens of respect due to a king, and stated our errand. He was quite
favourable and condescended to give us a general idea of his kingdom and
its relations. He bitterly complained of his neighbour Kawinga, who tried
to capture all his subjects. After everything had been discussed, he said
he would take a few minutes to consider how he would deal with us, and
retired. During his absence, Bismark and some of our men were asked to a
private interview. In a little, Bismark returned laughing and said, “That
man you saw is not the chief at all! The chief is a young man. You will
see him if you come round to the back of the house.” On this explanation
being given, all the natives laughed, feeling that the white men had been
cheated! Though some even of our own retinue must have known that Malemya
was a young man, they gave us no hint of this, but seemed to enjoy the
little game: they afterwards remarked that Machinga chiefs always acted
in this manner with strangers. Malemya himself was very cordial. When
we tried to explain that we wanted a little bit of ground as well as a
house, he did not understand how we could have a house without getting
all the land about it! In his view, the one gift implied the other. We
were careful to explain that we should not interfere in the usual native
wars. He wished us to stay and rest with him, but we declined, promising
to call again.

Next day we set ourselves to choose a spot for a house, and to begin
operations. In choosing the site we had many conditions to fulfil. (1)
There must be people about us. On seeing this spot from the top of the
mountain, we were delighted with the cluster of little villages. Here we
were on the borders between Chemlumbe and Malemya, having a ready access
to both kingdoms, and the subjects of these hostile chiefs laid aside
their petty jealousies and worked side by side with us. (2) There must be
a supply of good water. On the banks of the Mlungusi we had as favourable
a position in this respect as could be desired. (3) It must be a healthy
spot. The elevation of the site at Zomba secured this, our station being
on the southern side of the hill, about 400 feet higher than Blantyre,
and quite accessible to every wind except the north, which would be a
hot wind. Here, too, the mountain juts out, giving us even more than our
fair share of fresh air. (4) It must be a secure spot. This site seemed
specially suited for preserving us from such trouble from thieves as we
had at Blantyre. The whole district round as far as Malemya’s is well
watered and populous. The people, too, are quite as knowing as those
at Blantyre, most of the men having been at Quilimane. They were able
to give me much help with the language. At Blantyre I had been long
searching for a Yao word equivalent to our “hundred” but without success.
At Zomba I got it at once, but it is seldom used—the natives rarely
counting so high.

_Tuesday, August 5_, found us at our new settlement. After clearing a
little spot we raised a grass hut. In this we had just room for our
beds and a table. The bedsteads which we had brought with us were not
strong and sometimes fell down and knocked our heads through our wall!
A table was made by driving four posts into the floor, and fixing a
bamboo boarding above them. For chairs, we had old boxes. Our cooking
was done under a big tree. We had no windows, but the walls of our house
were convenient, as we could at once make holes to look through when a
disturbance arose. The native workers slept in similar grass tents around
us. One night they accidentally set fire to a dwelling, the flames spread
and destroyed several others, soon the whole bush was in a blaze; but our
hut escaped. It did service for three weeks, until the larger house was
finished, when Mr. Buchanan abandoned it in favour of some fowls that he
had bought.

We were glad that we could address the people in their own tongue, and
they listened with much attention. Of course they did not yet know to
come to us, and we had to go to them. One Sunday I held a great many
services, moving about from village to village and preaching in them
all. When I returned in the evening, a congregation soon assembled. By
this time I was quite tired, and when addressing them I adopted a sitting
posture; but so earnest was their manner in listening, that it soon
brought me to my feet. I often asked Bismark to address the natives, and
his words produced a profound impression. He delivered some addresses
of such an earnest, practical character, that they would not have been
amiss in the English language, and in a home pulpit. Zomba on the whole
gave promise of doing well as a Mission station, and secular work was
also carried on with great vigour. Besides building a house, Mr. Buchanan
had to hoe the ground for crops and to make a road to the new Station.
The natives in the neighbourhood were exceedingly anxious to obtain
employment. Those about Blantyre had all benefited by working at the
Mission, and by this time they were more civilized in dress. Compared
with our people, the inhabitants of Zomba looked very naked. In their
district there was no cloth except some Blantyre calico which they had
purchased from other natives, and a little that had been bought from the
slave-drivers a few months before. Every Monday, workers were enrolled
for a fortnight. More applied than could be engaged, but as several came
from great distances, Mr. Buchanan always took on as many as he could.

One afternoon I started to pay a second visit to Malemya. He and his
people were in the midst of a beer-drinking, which had lasted a few days
already, but which he assured me was only beginning. He gave me a hut in
a village at some distance from the scene of the beer drinking. Though he
was quite drunk when I arrived, he soon recovered and came down beside
me. We spoke of the great numbers of people that could be reached from
Chirwa, and he promised me a guide to its shores. He said the Lake used
to be full of water, but that it was becoming drier every year—“What
could be the reason?” Problems of this kind often occupy native chiefs,
who are always glad to hear the opinions of a stranger. On going along
its shores next day, I saw that the Lake at one time had been broader,
and that over a great part of the land still covered, the water was only
a few feet in depth. That night I slept in a village near the Lake. The
headman urged me to occupy his own dwelling and accordingly proceeded to
clear out his poultry. Bismark warned me against entering the hut as it
was full of “what was called fleas”. But since the people were so kind
as to give up their home for me, I thought it best not to be fastidious.
On the whole I was comfortable; once I awoke and was quite overawed at
hearing the gnawing of the rats. It seemed as if hundreds of mouths were
munching at once. I lighted a match, and then there was a great scamper,
which disturbed the few fowls that still roosted above me. I could see
that the roof where my host kept his maize was alive with rats. For a
while they paused in their carnival, but slowly and surely the dread
sound returned. I buried my head under the blankets and wished for the
Pied Piper of Hamelin! In this village there was great plenty, and in its
neighbourhood we saw large herds of game. As the village was situated
beside a stream, the people were all experts at spearing fish.

The time had now come when it was necessary for me to return to Blantyre.
There Dr. Laws was waiting with his bride, and we had the prospect of
celebrating the first European marriage ever witnessed in this land.
Before I left Zomba the supply of calico was low, and Mr. Buchanan had
to face his workmen one morning with an empty exchequer. Some grumbled,
and said they were to be “cheated”. But the Blantyre men came forward
in a body to explain “that the English did not cheat”. I often found
that I could be of considerable service when a dispute arose among the
negro workmen about wages. As I did not interfere with secular affairs,
I was appealed to by the natives as being a neutral party, and I could
keep them amused till calmer counsels prevailed. When I set out on my
return journey at the end of August, Mr. Buchanan was left to work at
Zomba alone. On reaching Blantyre we were much pleased at the arrival of
copies of our new books in the native language, which soon gave a fresh
impulse to all our school teaching. It was no uncommon thing this half
year to see lads in every corner with books in their hands. Formerly we
were quite satisfied when they attended to their lessons during school
hours, but now there was a revolution, and many began to study with
real enthusiasm. The only drawback was that here a book would be read
threadbare long before other translations could be printed.

In _travelling_ one sees and learns much more than when closely confined
to school-work. The days occupied in founding the new station at Zomba
were the first I had as yet spent out of Blantyre. As we passed through
the country we were often in danger of walking into native traps. Some of
these are constructed so as to hang the party that enters, others bring
down a log or a heavy stone upon his head. Pitfalls of about five feet
deep are dug, and carefully covered over. These are dangerous, and white
men often fall into them. But the natives are good observers, and when
one knows what they say, he always gets warning in time. In the same way
when marching after sunset, they warn each other very faithfully of any
stone on the path or any hole in it. Should there be a stone each man
says “stone” (liganga) as he comes to it, and the word passes along the
whole file with solemn regularity. The red ants are a great trial to the
unwary traveller. If he walk for a few minutes upon them, he will feel
severe bites all over his body, and will soon be compelled to take off
every stitch of clothing. When marching as we did in single file, we are
apt to incur peculiar dangers. Most natives carry a bunch of poisoned
arrows over the shoulder, and if there be a sudden halt a European needs
to be careful that he does not run against the armoury of the man that
marches before him. As we passed Cherasulo, which was a great slaving
district, we occasionally saw some poor woman standing in a slave-stick.
Our carriers showed a desire to go and release such people; and since
every European that travelled in this country figured to some extent as a
liberator of the slave, they expected us to encourage them, but we felt
that it would be most inexpedient to interfere.

At this period we had the Rev. Horace Waller congratulating us on the
peaceful state of the country, as compared with his own experience. But
a very painful incident now occurred which I shall describe mainly by
extracts from letters of this date. On _Tuesday, 16th September_, when
I was in school, a note came from Mr. Buchanan, stating that the goods
sent to him had been taken away after a brisk battle with the carriers,
in which guns and arrows were freely used and some wounds inflicted. The
Livingstonia Mission were then removing a great quantity of stores which
had been waiting for them at Blantyre, and it was said that a number of
Mityoche’s men had for days been waiting on the Livingstonia road to
secure this booty. But they were a little too late; all the goods passed
safely, and the robbers had to return. On their way home, however, they
met a party of ours going to Zomba, and the result was a successful
attack upon them.

When Mr. Buchanan’s note came to the station, Fenwick and I prepared to
go at once and have an interview with Mityoche. My great difficulty was
to get away from School for the purpose, but Mr. Moir of the African
Lakes Company who was then recovering from fever undertook to teach for
me. The people of Zomba had earnestly entreated me to go back to see
them soon, and I would thus have an opportunity of paying them a visit.
Taking duplicates of what had been lost, we started at five o’clock in
the afternoon, about an hour after the news arrived. We intended to camp
at Cherasulo, but it was found that our tent had been left behind, and
as the sun is so very hot just now during the day, we pressed on all
night fearing, as we did, that Mr. Buchanan who had been without cloth
for some time, would have difficulty in making a settlement with his
workers. About one o’clock in the morning we reached Kumpama’s, and might
have stayed there, but a guide volunteered to take us to Mityoche’s at
once. As we should thus be able to reach Zomba in the course of the
day, we accepted the offer, and after resting a while we resumed our
journey. It was interesting to pass the villages at night. The guide was
a great smoker and at every place he roused half-a-dozen men to light
his pipe. The natives rise at night with great ease as compared with
people that have to put on clothes. It was nearly daylight when we came
to Mityoche’s. We sent the guide to tell that we wanted an interview.
All at once the fellows seemed to know our errand, and they would not be
cordial. We never failed so entirely in getting natives to be friendly.
When we asked to see the chief they demanded whether we wanted war, and
when we told them that we were men of peace, they replied that we might
have an interview with the chief if we sent him a present. A present of
calico was accordingly sent to show that our intentions were friendly.
The reply came that it was too little—the chief wanted more. But by this
time his fighting men came rushing in with loaded guns, and assumed
threatening attitudes towards our party. Although it was the standard
present and the natives with us were determined to stand by it, we sent
another to prevent any cause of offence. Still we were told it was too
little and another increase followed with the same result. By this time
we began to fear that a thorough “brush” was inevitable, and we wished
to get out of the village if possible. The other party brandished their
guns, and swung them about in a sort of wild war dance. Our own villagers
advised them to caution, and cried out, ‘The English are your friends and
they could eat you all if they liked’. Some considerations of this kind
weighed with them, and the chief told us that we might go. We were much
relieved even by this concession.

The guide was loud in condemning Mityoche’s conduct, and set off to lead
us to Zomba. We left the village, but we had not got two hundred yards
away, when we saw a party rushing after us. Some of our last men were
seized and stripped, and in a moment we had iron bullets whistling about
our ears. Self defence was inevitable, and we fired. We did not act for
one moment on the offensive. I had only a small fowling-piece loaded with
shot. I discharged both barrels in the air, and reloaded for the purpose
of showing how quickly our loading could be done, and then remembering
the criticisms on good Bishop Mackenzie we retreated. Fortunately no
one was killed or wounded. We thought we were marching on Zomba, but we
found that our natives, who were afraid to go farther, were merely taking
us across to the Blantyre road. We were much afraid for Buchanan. He
might be safe so long as he staid at the station, but what if he should
come on, as he indicated in his letter, and enter Mityoche’s village
without knowing what sort of a man he had to deal with! We were full of
anxiety as we hurried back to Blantyre, which we reached at six P.M. on
Wednesday, after twenty-four hours of continuous marching.

On the following day, messengers came from Kapeni, regarding men of
his that had been with us, and who were believed to have been taken
prisoners. Some of Kumlomba’s villagers were supposed to be captured
also. We heard, too, that Mityoche’s men had become afraid, and deserted
his village. They had all fled, it was said, to the top of a hill. Next
day, Mr. Walker set out to effect a union with Mr. Buchanan, to see
after prisoners, and do all he could to smooth matters. He had little
doubt he would be successful in getting things peacefully arranged; the
natives, he said, would come and say chonde! chonde! (please, please). I
mentioned to him that in the event of any difficulty it would be better
to go on to Zomba directly. He took with him the two best interpreters
that were at Blantyre, and said he would be able to get on with their
aid. I urged that if there were any further difficulties he should first
see Mr. Buchanan and Bismark. This party, however, got into a fight. When
they came back, I was told that Mityoche’s people had met them; Kumlomba,
the Blantyre headman, got a severe wound below the knee, and one of
Mityoche’s men was killed, while another was believed to be wounded in
the leg. Poor Kumlomba had to be carried back, and was taken to a hut
out in the fields, in anticipation of death. When a bullet breaks a
piece of bone, the case is by the natives considered hopeless. But under
English treatment Kumlomba gradually recovered. Mityoche after this last
adventure, lived for a long time on a hill—as the natives always do in
times of trouble. When Kumlomba heard, in two months after, that Mityoche
had returned and “was eating porridge” at his own village, he thought
it was a great scandal! He would have eagerly gone to attack him. The
natives take a strange pleasure in war—which reminds one of the ancient
days when the women chanted in the cities, “Saul has slain his thousands,
and David his ten thousands.”

So far this adventure with Mityoche had proved very unfortunate. Hitherto
the Missionaries had got on well with the native, much by reason of
their very boldness. When something was done that seemed to proclaim war
against the Missionaries, they had gone straight to the aggressor as if
nothing had happened. Still, unless he was assisted by slave dealers,
Mityoche was not likely to make war upon the Mission. He had not so
strong a force at his command as any of the headmen of the three largest
Blantyre villages. Kapeni and all the leading men around us were most
eager to go and make war against him, so were certain of the Magololo.
(The Directors of the Mission when they heard of the matter recommended
that these men should be asked to punish him.) But unfortunately the
African chiefs would have looked at the step not so much as a method of
administering justice, as an excuse for killing Mityoche and capturing
his wives. There would have been no use of crushing the man, and for
a long time we tried to send messages to him. All these efforts were
fruitless. The great difficulty was that he lived so far away: had he
been within a day’s journey I should have visited him on my Saturday
holiday with every hope of removing the misunderstanding.

At the end of September, I wrote to the Directors, “Now we could go and
use greater force than Mityoche’s, but nothing can be farther from our
inclination. We trust that all you can do to release us from political
work will be done. The Committee must make up their mind to get some one
to do the Police of the country. The only safe alternative is to recall
the Mission.” At this time there was no one to manage the “colony”. The
Directors advised that the natives living at Blantyre should select
one of the laymen to carry out some kind of government. Mr. Walker
perhaps would have been the successful candidate, and might have been
willing to take the duty, but I learned from other home letters that
he and the other artisans were required to work under Mr. Henderson,
who had returned to Blantyre a few days before, and who was expected to
“act as a Christian Magistrate”. But Mr. Henderson himself declined to
take the responsibility of the office. As for myself, I was precluded
as a clergyman of the Church of Scotland, from any thing like civil
or colonial work, and the Directors themselves recognised that the
magistrate must be a layman. At this time I urged that the political work
should be held quite independent of the spiritual. If civil government
was to be well conducted it would require a man’s constant attention. In
connection with this subject, I wrote, “For myself, I am anxious only
for immunity in carrying out the evangelical work, though I by no means
overlook the importance of peace and civilisation. It is hard that a
great many quiet and docile natives should be deprived of this teaching
owing to the presence of a few roughs. We do not think that matters will
ever be satisfactory, while Missionaries are expected to be their own
protectors. Missionaries are ever being called off their proper work for
subjects of the most delicate kind, and for which they have no special
aptitude.”

The Directors had long contemplated the formation of a trading company
in connection with the Mission, and it was hoped that this company would
manage all civil affairs.

The policy of the Scotch Missions on the slave trade, was expressly given
as the reason for this conduct of Mityoche’s. A great many refugees had
come from his district, and according to native views, the reception
of such refugees was a good cause for war. Having been opposed to this
policy all through, I wrote home at this time, “All the Missions to this
region have run their heads against the question of slavery, and out
of it has sprung a world of troubles. We might have done our duty as
missionaries, and let slavery alone entirely. We do not find that the
great Church of the Middle Ages ran against the question, and it had as
many opportunities as we have now. To say the least of it, our taking the
matter up hitherto, has been premature; we have not such a knowledge of
the language and the feelings of the natives as to justify us in dashing
at once into a difficult question like this.”

The remainder of October was quiet. In the course of the month, Mr.
Henderson visited Zomba. We had asked Mr. Buchanan to consider the
expediency of abandoning this station, but he felt quite safe. We also
suggested that he should try a stockade but he wrote, “I do not think
we should try a stockade.[6] The particular kind of wood is not at all
plentiful, and the expense would be more serious than the chance of an
attack.” Upon the mountain side he had very little trouble, but the whole
plain between him and Chirwa was scoured in the interests of the slave
trade.

Soon we had more trouble at Blantyre as the following extracts will show:—

“A little after midnight on November 5, we were told that an attack had
been made on Malopa’s village and that prisoners had been carried off.
This was a new hamlet about twenty minutes’ walk from Blantyre. Malopa
had escaped to bring the intelligence. The attacking party had retreated
by the back of the Nyambadwe, and there was little hope of capturing
them. Mr. Henderson and an artisan hastened to the spot. One house was in
flames and beside another they found the mangled corpse of Nampala, and
his little child standing by it. Nampala’s wife and his elder child had
been captured and carried off. Another woman with two children had been
lodging, for the night, in this unfortunate place. One of her children
had been taken, but she rescued the other, although one of the ruffians
had cut its face severely by a stroke of his gun. It appears the attack
took place in this way. A disturbance was made in the village, and one
house set on fire. Nampala was the first to awake, and when he went out
to see what was the matter, two men standing on opposite sides of his
door poured the contents of their guns into his body. Everyone that
afterwards appeared on the scene was carried off, and the attacking party
retreated in great haste. Next day which was my Saturday holiday, Malopa,
Chendombo, and myself, traced the footprints for miles. The natives
have an almost miraculous power of doing this. They concluded that the
attacking party had come from a distance.

“That night we told Kapeni that one of his people was among the captives.
As to who were the offenders he had no suspicion whatever, but he assured
us that in a few days we should have full information. Nampala’s brother
came to the funeral, accompanied by several friends. The most friendless
object was the little child who being unacquainted with its uncle, and
its other relatives, could only cling to Malopa. We offered to take it
and bring it up like an English infant, but the uncle naturally wished to
keep it.

“This sad incident is an illustration of one of the effects of the Slave
Trade, being quite a normal instance of kidnapping as it goes on around
us. It is the first that has taken place at Blantyre since I came here.
It takes us to the heart of the sufferings of the people. Surely if in
any place on this earth the cry of the oppressed goes up to heaven, it is
in Africa.”

Here was another unfortunate problem. We had learned from the Mityoche
case that it was dangerous to go to negotiate with a chief that had
anything upon his conscience, and no native messengers would go alone.
This attack had been premeditated, and moreover some of our natives had
been forewarned. For several nights before, one of our large villages
had kept awake all night. Long afterwards I went to visit a pupil who
lived about six miles off. While I was in his father’s village, a man
entered it carrying a large basket of fowls. He seemed much astonished to
find me, but I began to talk with him, and after he became acquainted,
he asked me several times whether he might come to Blantyre to sell his
fowls, and he seemed anxious to get a very definite answer. I told him
that I should be very glad to have his company all the way back. Then he
gave over his fowls to two men that were with him, whom he took aside
and instructed to proceed, and he told me that he and his daughter would
wait till the white man was ready to go with them. After a little we
started for Blantyre. The day was exceedingly hot and there was not a
breath of wind. All the trees and bushes were as still as if they had
been pictures. My companion was a very fat man, and at one point we
agreed that we must sit down to rest. After we had rested a while, I
glanced at my watch to know the time. A native has such an eye for the
objective world that a European cannot move a single muscle without
attracting his attention. Perceiving that the man wanted me to explain
myself, I took out the watch and told him what I used it for, and then I
handed it to his little daughter telling her to catch the seconds hand.
While she was amusing herself by trying to do this, her father asked
to see the time-piece, and tried the same experiment. The man at once
became greatly agitated! His fright was unmistakeable—his limbs actually
trembled. He “wanted to go on—we might rest at a village farther along!”
So we proceeded and came up with one of the men that had gone before us
with the fowls. A little farther on two negroes with guns came rapidly
out of the jungle and appeared on the path before us. In a short time
they disappeared as rapidly. Soon after, I happened to look behind me and
found another stranger following noiselessly with a gun. I thought that
the whole appearance and conduct of these men were rather suspicious. No
Missionary in this land goes unarmed, and I had a small revolver by my
side. But on a narrow path in the middle of a dense jungle a person might
easily be assassinated by an unseen hand. I saluted all these mysterious
strangers, and kept up a spirited conversation with my companion. When at
last we came to the end of Kapeni’s territory, he said he would not go
any farther himself, but that his little girl and his slave would go on
to Blantyre and sell the fowls. When near the station I told them where
the storekeeper lived, and then said good-bye. In less than half-an-hour
I found that these two individuals had plunged the whole settlement into
a dreadful state of excitement. Both of them had been captured by the
Blantyre villagers. The man, it was said, had taken part in the recent
slave raid, while the little girl was the daughter of a small chief
who was our most deadly enemy, and had planned the whole attack. I had
some difficulty before I could persuade the villagers to release the
unfortunate captives. I insisted that the little girl at least was quite
innocent, and I was very glad to find that she was unharmed; but the
man’s head, unfortunately, required sticking plaster. As the party had
come to the Station under my escort, they naturally appealed to me for
protection, while I was fairly responsible to the Mission people for
bringing in such friends! The Blantyre natives were always enthusiastic
in the defence of the settlement. On one occasion a great number of them,
on hearing that a woman had been kidnapped, ran a distance of ten miles
in order to intercept the kidnappers.

At this period the whole country was greatly unsettled for a long time,
as the following extracts from my journal will show.

_13th Nov._—“Chologwe came to seek protection from Chiputula. He is one
of the men that left their home to accompany Dr. Livingstone in his
researches here. The majority of these adventurers have established
themselves in the country as chiefs. But Chologwe lived with his
‘brother’ Chiputula, who now threatens to kill him. Chiputula sometimes
gets brandy, and on these occasions this usually fierce man becomes a
perfect tiger. In the beginning of the week we had six other citizens of
Chiputula asking an asylum; but knowing the danger of meddling with the
Magololo chiefs, we advised them to go home. As poor Chologwe had come
so far from his native land, and that in company with a white man, we
thought he might stay till Chiputula enquired about him. Refugees from
the Yao come to avoid being sold; refugees from the Magololo to avoid
being killed.

“_16th._—A letter came from Zomba showing that everything was peaceful
there. So far as we can keep Blantyre and Zomba distinct, they will be
valuable experiments of two widely different methods of mission work.
Blantyre has received refugees, Zomba admits none.

“_19th._—A man came in from Mkanda’s neighbourhood with his wife and two
daughters. He stated that his headman had threatened to kill him because
he would not let his daughters be sold. The man had originally belonged
to the foot of Sochi, and many of our people came to confirm his story.
Being a freeman, he was allowed to stay.

“_20th._—The Livingstonia Mission has had great difficulty in bringing up
a boiler for the steamer. Dr. Laws has sent down many men to accomplish
the work.

“_21st._—The air is full of wars and rumours of war. Many of our
villagers keep watch on their own account all night. Yesterday, carriers
that were sent from Blantyre with food for the Livingstonia workmen,
returned as they came to a scene of bloodshed. Chelomoni, who had come up
the road, was the first to enlighten us on the subject. He said Mkanda
wanted to attack the carriers belonging to Blantyre. Ten men went armed
with guns. They saw a party carrying maize, and immediately fired on
them. One man received a bullet in the forehead; another fell with a
severe wound. If Mkanda did want to attack the Blantyre people he had
played himself a clever trick. The attacked party were, surely enough,
carrying maize, as well as our people, but they had come from Mkanda’s
own district, and were going to sell their maize for salt at the Lower
Chiri.

“It is probable that Mkanda wanted to strike a blow at Blantyre by this
raid. The leader was a headman of his that has had some provocation.
About a week ago he is reported to have lost five slaves in this way:—The
traffic has been so brisk that they had not slave-sticks ready for their
victims; so this headman made the slaves fast by tying. Some of the
slaves, however, had strong teeth; and when one is liberated he is not
always forgetful of his companions. The result was that they escaped and
started for Blantyre. But they were not a match for the pursuers that
tracked their steps. They were all overtaken and slain, when but half-way.

“The Arab slave-traders are clever men and show much tact in managing the
chiefs. They are carrying on their work between our two mission stations.
Their popularity is due to the fact that they deal in rum and powder
which the natives cannot get elsewhere.

“_23rd._—Slave refugees have come in. Those traders have the whole
country in a perfect uproar.

“_29th._—I had a walk with ‘John’ to Ndilande. At every village we have
the pleasure now of meeting some of our scholars spending the Saturday
holiday at home. They are among the first to greet us. There is six times
as much cultivation here as there was the first time I saw the district.

“_8th December._—At Zomba there are four thousand people who wish to be
received under ‘English’ protection. Several of these are at present
kidnapped to make up the Arab caravans. We all feel as if we should like
to go and put these Arabs in stocks. We should be told, however, and
truly,[7] that it was no business of ours to interfere. We wish that some
civil power would take the matter up.”

About the end of the year Mr. Buchanan wrote:—

“Much annoyance has been caused in the district by a company of Arabs,
who have come to Kawinga, on Mount Chikala. Kawinga having been supplied
by them with powder, sent his men, armed with flint-locks, into Malemya’s
territory to capture and carry off all the people they could lay hands
on. At one village, about twenty women and children were carried off
during the night; at another village four people; and in a number of
cases single individuals have been taken away. In the midst of it all,
not a few have lost their lives. Fortunately things have quieted down,
but the natives themselves say that Kawinga is only preparing for another
raid.”

During a visit of slave dealers we often were afraid of being attacked.
We put on night watch-men but, as they frequently fell asleep, their
presence did not entirely remove our anxiety. For a long time I used to
get up about two o’clock in the morning in order to look for enemies. On
such occasions I tried to observe whether there were signs of a new camp
fire. During the darkness of the night, one sees, along the hillsides,
a multitude of fires that are not visible by day. Most of these arise
from trunks of large trees which may keep burning for weeks. Parties on
leaving a camp fire do not extinguish it, and travellers coming after
them gladly make use of the old fire. The natives taught us to look
carefully at all these fires! We had times of great trial. Being obliged
to live in a miserably small hut with little or no furniture, we did not
enjoy robust health, while the food that we could procure was not of the
most tempting character. But we saw what an enormous field for labour
lay around us, and we were seldom home-sick. Instead of writing home
about difficulties, we rather tried to derive amusement from our peculiar
circumstances. Dr. Macklin used to tell us playfully that he had never
written but one grumbling letter, and the steamer sank with its weight!
Now, although the trials of a Missionary’s life might be heavy enough
to sink a steamer any day, we could not afford to do such damage to the
mail service! Usually we were without letters for about two months, and
when a mail did come there was much excitement. We had no inclination,
and indeed no time, to read the daily papers minutely. The events had
happened so long ago, that we regarded them as fragments of ancient
history. But after perusing our letters we found a good mental tonic
in the pages of _Punch_: while scores of our dark pupils came up after
school and studied the _Illustrated London News_ and the _Graphic_.




CHAPTER XII.

FOURTH HALF. JAN., 1880—JUNE, 1880.


[Illustration: THE “MANSE,” BLANTYRE.]

During this half year there was a great removal of discomforts. In
particular the minister’s lot was improved. For nearly two years, he and
his family had been cooped up in the small hut already alluded to, which
contained less space than one ordinary room in a civilised land. A fourth
of the hut was filled with boxes, another quarter was a bed-room too
small to be healthy: while the remaining half, though occupied very fully
by an enormous table, had to serve not only for dining-room, but also for
nursery and study. At the beginning of April we bade adieu to our old
home and entered a larger house built of stone. This was an acceptable
change for the purposes of study, as well as for many other reasons. It
had the advantage of being much cooler than the grass huts, its thick
walls apparently warding off the rays of the sun better than the wattle
and daub. Being one of the largest houses the natives had ever seen, it
was an object of great admiration from the outside. But when inside, the
natives did not feel at ease; since they saw none of the posts that they
were accustomed to in their own houses, they feared that the roof would
fall on their heads! Unfortunately we shared their apprehensions, for
the roof had not been well bound together and threatened to push out the
walls.

Cloth windows began to disappear while the introduction of glass gave the
settlement a different appearance. These new windows were a great marvel
to the natives few of whom knew that glass could be broken. Thieves,
especially, were disappointed as they feared they would not be able to
cut the glass as they had done the calico. But soon the natives became
aware that glass was brittle. As it was no breach of etiquette to gaze
into windows, a girl one day pressed her head through, and as there was
no glass to mend the pane, it remained a standing text to convince
all and sundry that windows would not resist every force. So when an
inquisitive chief asked what would happen if he struck a window, we had
simply to point to what had happened, and to warn him against cutting his
hand.

When we reached Blantyre, we had only one very small looking-glass, and
though we made an effort to obtain a larger one we were unsuccessful, the
article like many others being stolen by the Magololo when on its way
up from the coast. But this half year a large mirror arrived safely and
caused a great sensation. The smaller one was now available as a toy,
and was much appreciated by old and young. When a visitor came from a
distance, our little natives suggested that he had not seen the mirror. I
would then ask the man if he wanted to see ‘my friend’. The children knew
what was coming and began to clap their hands, while our guest looked
as if afraid of some magical trick I went and fetched the mirror, and
my visitor soon gazed on the white man’s friend. He shouted out Amao!
(mother) or Ngondo! (war) which are two native interjections of surprise.
Acting on his first impulse, he would look behind the mirror to see if
there was any one there! He was quite overcome, and it was long before
he was composed; as he opened his mouth in exclamation, the white man’s
friend did the same, as he laughed, the figure laughed in his face. He
easily recognised himself, but this mimicry at close quarters was new and
tickled him exceedingly.

By this time we had been able to procure many necessaries from home, our
baking was improved, milk strainers were introduced. At first, jams
were sent out in small quantities, and could scarcely be obtained even
by an invalid, but the medical man after some experience of the climate,
pointed out that these were often not so much a luxury as a necessity,
and now they could be bought from the store. Sometimes the distinction
between luxury and necessity was mooted again, and then one would hear
the pathetic appeal, ‘Tell us where we have a single luxury in this
wilderness!’ When the supply of fowls became deficient, we could fall
back on a small store of tinned meats, but these were so few that we
tried to reserve them for cases of extremity. If ever the Station should
be besieged we could live for a week on our own resources! The expense
of the Mission was great, it could not be otherwise. About this time I
wrote, ‘If the old monks had been so dependent on help from their homes,
Britain would have never seen Christianity’. We were recommended to trust
a good deal to the productions of the country. But the true question
was, not how the Missionaries could be kept alive, but how they could
be kept in such health as would enable them to labour with vigour. The
difficulty was likely to be gradually solved by each man ordering what
he wanted, the only drawback being that out of six boxes sent from home,
only one might arrive. This extra risk fell heavy on the Missionaries,
not to mention the famine caused by the loss and delay. The want of milk
was a great hardship especially for children. Only this discomfort would
not have occurred if we had been in the country avowedly as farmers,
because then we should have been free to direct our attention to all
these little points. Everything brought here was expensive owing to the
carriage upon it. Most things were double the usual price, and a pound of
flour or of oatmeal cost about 8d. Still we had now made a great advance
nearer civilization. Brown boots had been our original outfit for Africa,
now we aspired to have them blackened! At the same time we learned to
look more favourably on negro civilization. At first we had a prejudice
against native cooking, but now we often had the pleasure of ‘dining
out’. When going to a distant place, I would order dinner at a village on
my way, and ask the people to have it ready by my return. The villagers
were very prompt; they went at once to the fowl-house and caught some
hen that happened to be sitting on eggs, and when I came back in about
two hours, I found this fowl cooked, eggs and all! The eggs proved to be
young fowls too, and were consigned to the ‘boys,’ while I felt inclined
to lecture the villagers on the inhumanity of taking ‘the dam’ when
sitting upon eggs. The natives use an endless variety of vegetables.
Being desirous to taste every sort, we asked them to cook samples for us.
When any dish was more unpalatable than usual, the cook explained that he
had tried to prepare it in “the white man’s way”. Often and earnestly had
we to beseech them to “cook all these things in the black man’s way”!

Our picnic this year was to the top of Ndilande, a mountain about
four miles to the east of Blantyre. It is one of the range that runs
across this district from north to south. The view from the top is most
magnificent. On the south-east lofty Mlanje towers above the clouds,
farther round there lies the massive form of Zomba, while Lake Chirwa
stretches between them like a sheet of polished silver. To the north we
see the hills of the Achipeta which some of our pupils point to as the
land from which they were taken by the slave-dealer, while towards the
west we descry mountains which melt into blue clouds near the banks of
the broad Zambeze.

As we stood on this mountain summit we were reminded that there had
not been such a crowd here since the last inroad of the Mangoni when
the people had all rushed to the mountain to save their lives. Many of
our pupils had been in that terrible scramble. But now the cries of
terror had given place to the melody of old tunes which in the days of
Claverhouse had been often heard on the wild moors and mountains of
Scotland. After descending we had a little rest and refreshment at one of
the villages on the brow of the mountain. The party were not fatigued,
for a walk of four miles and the climbing of a steep hill are nothing to
an African boy! Chants were extemporised and lustily sung all the way
back, the burden of them being that we had climbed Ndilande, and feasted
on fowls, and would eat mutton at Blantyre!

How great was the contrast between this picnic and the one we had
organised last year! There were about as many flags in the company as
there were pupils on the last occasion. The number of scholars had much
increased. We had fully 150 this half-year and it would not have been
difficult to collect over 200, but we could not encourage more children
to come as we had neither sufficient teaching power, nor any prospect of
assistance. In January I wrote, ‘We are not so anxious to increase the
number as to manage well those that we have’.

The majority of the boys lived in the Blantyre villages. Except the
Magololo children, none of our pupils came from a distance, and most of
the Magololo chiefs had built huts for their sons in the neighbourhood.
Still many preferred to stay at the station, and were allowed to do so
on the understanding that they must go home during work hours. The few
boys that regularly boarded were all kept busy for about an hour in the
forenoon, and two hours after school was dismissed in the afternoon.
Their work was of the lightest character, having been instituted mainly
for the purpose of keeping them from harm. But the little fellows
certainly did much to make the station tidy. During the rains the grass
threatens to overtop everything. A man may then “dig” a road or a walk,
and in a few weeks after find it covered with grass so tall that it
reaches up to the shoulders, and makes it impossible to tell where the
track was. Thus the roads made by the Mission entailed much labour, the
grass requiring to be continually hoed down. Hence during the wet season
the boys were constantly occupied in cutting the grass, which if allowed
to grow might have concealed a large native army! In the dry season they
used to carry water for the gardeners, but in the end of 1879, I began to
make them practice the ordinary arts of their native land, encouraging
them to make baskets and hats under a teacher of their own tribe. They
were thus kept occupied for a time, and although sometimes rebelling
against the old men who taught them, they soon made more baskets and hats
than were necessary. The hats they wore, the small round baskets (iselo)
they used for plates. When daubed with a kind of pitch these baskets did
not leak even when filled with soup.

[Illustration: THE BASKET MAKERS.]

Since the custom of the country requires that men should sew, the husband
of many wives has a great demand made upon his skill as a tailor. This
induced us to ask some of the boys to make dresses for themselves.
For a while our verandah was filled with a lively band of stitchers.
After cutting their cloth, Mrs. Macdonald superintended them as far
as her other duties permitted, and one of the Magololo lads, who was
dull at reading, displayed much genius here, and was able both to teach
his juniors and to make the “story” go round. Day pupils, who usually
declined to work, entered into shirt-making so zealously that they
denied themselves the usual hours of play; not only so, but they did
not go home at night. Hence mothers came to the station to see what was
wrong; but they were quite satisfied with the explanation. In this land
there is much to make mothers anxious—a child might easily be kidnapped
on the way to school.

Saturday was a holiday except an hour in the forenoon, which was set
apart for sweeping the dormitories. There were three edifices of this
kind at Blantyre, one was for the women and the girls, the other two for
the boys: and one of the boys’ houses was divided into two sections, one
of which was occupied by advanced pupils, who acted as monitors. The
first time we saw these houses they were quite new, but a “foolish woman
pulleth down her house with her hands,” and foolish boys did the same.
The lads never slept without a fire, and they found the grass of the
walls very useful in making it blaze. Consequently the walls of these
houses gradually disappeared. Then just as our boarders were beginning to
increase, a poor herd-boy was hurt in some quarrel, and died in one of
these dormitories. After this, no native would sleep in that house (40).
It was vain to remonstrate with the little fellows, the superstition
terrified them. It was even questionable whether they would enter a new
dormitory built on the old site. The natives, it will be seen, have
reasons against expensive architecture, besides laziness and incapacity.

At night the sleepers liked to be near each other, and though there
was plenty of room, they lay in half-dozens, packed together like
tinned sardines. They had raised beds after the English method and as
the ordinary natives merely spread mats on the ground this was a great
novelty. But some boys more cautious than the rest, spread their mats
under the bedstead and barricaded themselves, “so that no kidnapper could
see them”! After a time blankets were procured, but there was never a
sufficiency, and those that had them were fond of using them as a dress
all day.

We were often at a loss to find work for the boys. They could not be
handed over to the artisans, who being all very busy, would have found
them a great annoyance. We much needed a master to superintend them while
they were out of school. In industrial missions pupils ought to be sent
to the various artisans in order to learn the special department of work
professed by each tradesman, but we were far from the attainment of this
ideal, and besides a great many of our pupils were too young.

One of the last days that I had charge of them, they came to me, after
lessons were finished, and asked for work; by this time they had gone the
round of several occupations and wanted something new: but I could think
of nothing, and was of opinion that they deserved a holiday. At last I
asked if they would like to catch rats for a week. This proposal amused
them intensely, and a premium of a week’s wages was offered for every
six rats. This was a high reward, for after the tail was taken off, the
rat-catcher might cook his animal for himself or sell it to some of the
workmen! The African schoolboy is as fond of rat catching as a Scotch
lad is of fishing for trout. Only the Blantyre rats began to fall under
the suspicion of strangers. We often had great poisonings, and on such
occasions we proclaimed the danger of eating rats caught on the premises.
After doses of arsenic, or phosphorus paste, had been distributed, many
rats were found dead, while others could run but slowly, and were easily
caught: and great was our fear that some poor native might make a meal of
these. The boys, however, caught but few. Under the idea that the ‘white
man would send them home to show what the African rats were like,’ some
hunted the fields for various specimens; one day I was offered about a
score of little field-mice (mapuku), but I had to decline them as the
reward was for rats (makoswe). The boy felt this no hardship, as his
‘take’ was of great intrinsic value—the mapuku being a ‘relish’ of prime
quality!

Much is said against the African on account of his laziness. At Quilimane
I was told that it was common for natives to choose starvation rather
than work. Cases were pointed to, where negroes had died of hunger, while
work and food had been offered them. I was pleased, therefore, to find
the boys coming to tell me that they wanted work. Still much of this was
due to the Mission discipline. The boarders had been put under a native
teacher, who sent boys that did no work, away from the table. My first
acquaintance with the subject was when this young lad came to me and
said, “Master, this is not right at all, boys that do no work come and
take away the boarder’s food!” Hence there was established for a long
time a tacit understanding, that he that “would not work, should not
eat,” and it was only when the usual organisation was disturbed, that the
whole of the school boys would make an onslaught on the boarders’ food.
At first few boys cared to engage in the little tasks assigned for the
boarders. Their parents advised them against working; they reasoned, “If
our children go to Blantyre and do work, there will be no work left for
ourselves, and we shall get no calico”. They would also say, “When our
children do work for the English, and get food and clothes from them,
this is the same as being slaves to the English, and one day the English
will take our children from us”.

Sometimes, on the other hand, it was made an objection against the
Mission that the pupils did too little. I was once told that children
sent to school would become lazy. This criticism from a native, who gets
credit for being the laziest dog in existence, rather astonished me, but
it brought the hard lot of the African female clearly before my notice.
Frequently little girls were absent from school, and my plan was never to
let an absence pass without explanation, and I generally found that they
had been helping their mothers to pound the corn. But as prizes depended
on regular attendance, the girls were anxious to be present every day,
and consequently they became less useful at home, while the parents
naturally regarded reading and sewing (by females) as mere pastimes.
It might have been better if we could have professed to teach girls to
pound corn! Few will say that laziness is a sin of the African female.
The pounding of corn is as hard work as any woman need try. On this
department of toil I have often looked with sadness, while I wished that
I had known some simple mechanical device for lightening the task. Such a
device would greatly improve the lot of the African woman, and were her
labour thus lightened, it would be easier to persuade the men to assist
her. I once suggested to a young lad that he ought to aid his mother in
pounding the grain; but although he was fond of his mother, he felt that
this method of assisting her would appear ridiculous. A man pounding corn
would be as strange a spectacle to a native of Central Africa as a woman
driving a railway train would be to an Englishman.

As to food, the boarders were supplied with what was usual in the
country. The staple was “porridge,” and one woman was hired to cook it.
This functionary in times of scarcity held a delicate position. The
boys accused her of not making enough of porridge, and she accused the
storekeeper of not giving her enough of flour! The porridge was made
without salt, and eaten along with vegetables. Salt was a great luxury
here; while many people hardly used it at all, others obtained it by
burning plants. From Lake Chirwa, whose waters are salt, we could always
obtain a good supply for the children after we had a Mission at Zomba,
but at first it could rarely be got.

Some say that the last point in which we should change a native’s habit
is in food—as he soon becomes fastidious, and looks down on the simpler
fare of his countrymen. But these boys did much mental work, which was
a new thing for a native. Hence several proposals were formed for
improving their diet. For a time all the extra soup and fowls left
at European meals went to the school table. But this required the
co-operation of all the white men, and many gave these things to the boys
that washed their own plates and brought their dinner. We expected some
help from the dairy, but even if there had been no native superstition
against milk, there was never a supply sufficient for the few Europeans.
Even when well supplied with meat, the natives that lived in our own
house seldom used it in any quantity, eating it only in small portions
along with their porridge.

In the season of scarcity there was difficulty in getting native flour,
and it became necessary to store some for the month or two that preceded
the rains. At that time the women gathered the leaves of shrubs, while
the boys and girls of the native villages were sent out to forage for
themselves and might often be seen breakfasting on beetles!

It was much easier to maintain order among a large number of native lads
than it would have been among a corresponding number of English boys.
The native children were most obedient and docile. So long as they all
belonged to the same tribe there was seldom any strife among them. When
they stole from each other, they did not, as a rule, complain to the
schoolmaster. Some of them appealed to the sorcerer at once.

The following extracts from letters sent home at the time will throw
light on other details:—


_Saturday Visits in the Neighbourhood._

“On _February 14th_, I went to Ndilande in company with John MacRae.
First, we reached the home of one of our Blantyre pupils, called Mpakata,
a dear little fellow. I went there to dress his mother’s shoulder, which
had been severely burned. The natives keep a big log smouldering in
the hut all night: and often come into contact with it while asleep.
Accidents by burning are frequent, especially among children, and it is
chiefly at night that they take place.

“In another village we met with a musical instrument of quite a novel
kind. It was formed in this way. Two sticks were laid parallel to each
other, and about a foot apart. Above them was placed a layer of grass,
on the top of which lay the keys of the instrument. These keys were made
of wood and kept in their places by upright pegs. The keys were about
the thickness of one’s arm, and differed in length so as to produce
a succession of notes. I had seen the same instrument often, and had
conceived that it might be a shelter for chickens. Great was my surprise
when I found that there, in the village green, I stood beside a splendid
piano! The instrument was quite complete. It was even provided with a
neat drumstick for striking the keys! Before any one came to us we were
rude enough to take the drumstick and begin to play. This brought a
number of the village ladies to the spot; and I had a feeling that we
ought to apologise for making free with the instrument. John had told me
that it was called ‘ngolongondo’; and it would have covered our retreat
very well to take this name on our lips; but what if they should hear
only the last syllables? Ngondo (war) is the word that speaks to the
Africans of famine, slavery, and death; it is a word too, that they
are always straining their ears to hear. No wonder that I shrank for a
moment from calling that piano by its name, and that when I did speak of
it, I put special emphasis on the first syllables. Soon we had a crowd
of happy villagers around us. All of them, old and young, were fond of
sweets. They showed us other curiosities. One of these was a rat-trap,
which reminded me of English mole-traps, only it was made of a single
piece of wood. In the thick end the rat is provided with accommodation,
the other end tapers to a point. The thin end is tied down with threads
of bark, and when the rat eats these, it recoils with great force, and a
big belt of bark comes up and imprisons the victim, which is cooked for
the next meal. As these villagers had traps by the dozen I thought of
buying some, but John told me that I need not, as his father could make
them. It is a great step to gain the confidence of the people by mixing
with them freely, like one of themselves. An Englishman is not quite at
ease with a number of strange natives in a place entirely strange, and it
is too much to expect that all at once they will feel at home with him.
Further on, we received a hearty welcome in a large village at the back
of Ndilande. About forty men were there, and a proportionate number of
women and children. As a heavy shower came on, we had to stay even longer
than we wished. After talking of the native chiefs, the work going on
at Blantyre, and the chances in favour of a given man or woman getting
enrolled as a worker on Monday, I gave them an address, to which they
were very attentive.

“The conversation turned specially on Kumpama of Cherasulo, and I
expressed a desire to see him at Blantyre. They sympathised with this,
and one man volunteered to take a message to this important Chief. I
gave him a piece of paper (with Kumpama’s name on it)—to indicate that
the messenger was from us. On our way home this man escorted us some
distance. By this time the grass, which is in many places about eight
feet high, was quite wet, and as the paths are narrow I had the pleasure
of a cold bath for a great part of the way. This, if not so healthy, is
more agreeable than intense heat. Our guide by and by discovered that
his paper was wet. I suggested that it might dry. Next he asked whether
the Chief would not like a bigger piece of paper! Also, he naturally
wondered how much pay he would get for going to Cherasulo! Such are some
of the everyday difficulties of these simple but attractive people.
Having already made many efforts to see Kumpama, I was not full of hope
on this occasion; but, strange to say, on Wednesday night all eyes were
turned towards the Matope road to observe a long procession entering
Blantyre. First, there came a man, carrying a letter; next a few bearers
with a goat and several fowls; behind these came a large body of men
armed, some with guns, others with bows, in the front of whom we could
descry one young man holding aloft an Arab parasol. The man with the
letter was rather disappointing—he had nothing but the little bit of
paper of Saturday—though it was in a wonderful state of preservation;
but the young man with the Arab parasol was the veritable Kumpama of
Cherasulo, whose ancestor had fought against Bishop Mackenzie. According
to the custom in such cases, we received the chief’s present, and gave
him accommodation. He was at tea in the evening, and we found him most
agreeable. He was fond, as most natives are, of the Cape gooseberry,
and we took care that he should have plenty of plants. This berry grows
everywhere luxuriantly, it is becoming a weed with ourselves, but the
natives plant it in their fields. The chief wished to return on Thursday
but was persuaded to stay till Friday. He visited the school, in which he
took much interest, for in the evening he could point out the boys that
could read well. He was present in the evening when Mrs Macdonald’s adult
pupils came in, and I have no doubt that he would learn to read himself
if he were with us. He is only about 21 years of age. On his departure,
the gardener gave him orange plants, English potatoes, and other young
trees, and vegetables.

On Saturday the 21st of February, John and I started for Mpingwi. We
set out at 7 A.M. The roads are wet in the morning, owing to a heavy
dew that falls during this season. I did my best to keep dry, but the
second stream was much swollen, and an unsuccessful jump landed me in
the middle. After this, care became unnecessary. On reaching Mpingwi,
however, I sat down on a rock and tried to wring my stockings. Here we
had a fine view of Ngludi. So attractive was the appearance of the whole
country, that I proposed to John that we should go on to this hill.
John, who was in excellent spirits, agreed to proceed. It was now about
9·30. We passed through a fine wooded plain, in which we crossed four
brooks, though these would not be all full in the dry season. Looking
behind us we obtain a fine view of Mpingwi and Bangwe, which now appear
much higher than when seen from the Blantyre side. About twelve o’clock
we are among the Ngludi villages. One beautiful stream flows not far from
the foot of the hill. As we stop to drink we are much impressed with the
romantic beauty that surrounds us. The picture is so lovely, that we
would not change the place of a stone, the form of a branch, or the size
of a leaf.

The people were glad to see us, but wondered much why we had come alone.
The last visit they had from the Mission was when Dr. Macklin passed with
a great caravan on his way to Mlanje. We went round the corner of the
hill till we reached Matache’s, where John has a cousin—a boy about the
same age as himself. Matache seems to have considerable influence. We
were close to his principal village, and about 100 of his people came to
see us. Before leaving I recited to them the parable of “the talents”.
John’s little cousin was determined to go back with us, and he came on
for some distance, till his mother followed, asking him to stay with her.
He seemed disposed to rebel, but I told him that it would not be right
to leave his mother. He went back with tears in his eyes; and his mother
promised to send him to school again. He had spent a few months at school
last year.

We had now to return, if possible, before dark. Ngludi is set down as
being 17 miles from Blantyre; and after marching 17 miles, one would
like to decline the return journey. Though we had many a hospitable
invitation to stay for the night, we pushed on. We were quite fatigued as
we ascended Mpingwi again, but here a heavy shower came on, which had a
refreshing effect.

_Slavery._—Every English trader or hunter that made a long stay in this
land figured as an enemy of the slave trade, began to receive refugees,
and after a time found himself surrounded by a small colony in which he
had to act as governor. He felt it absurd to apply to the neighbouring
chief for assistance in civil matters. His relation to the native chief
cannot be better explained than by an incident like the following:—“One
morning the hunter wishes to set out on a journey, and requires a large
number of men. He sends a messenger to request the native chief to send
him some of his people. The chief sends back word that he ‘can send no
men to-day as he has a beer-drinking’. On receiving this intelligence
the European says to the messenger, ‘Go back and tell the chief that if
he does not send me men at once I will come up and flog him!’ In a very
short time the messenger returns with more men than are required, while
the chief sends, at the same time, a very humble apology!” Such being the
character of a native chief each European was a “great king,” and was
expected to be ready to defend all the subjects that he received, by his
power, or in other words, by the usual wars. Now, although a position of
this kind might be taken by Industrial Agents or Traders, it was clearly
a false position for a Missionary, who, being sent with a message for
“every creature,” must stand forth as equally friendly to all classes
of the community. As I mingled more with our neighbours, I saw that our
reception of runaway slaves had alienated many excellent men who might
have been our best friends, and who were better able to rule slaves than
we. If the colonial work disappeared the purely Missionary work would be
more successful, and the colonial work might gradually be suffered to
disappear if slave refugees were denied an asylum.

Slaves were still coming to the station in great numbers, but I did
all that I could to discourage their arrival. We had now learned that
they were by no means paragons of virtue. After they settled, it was
difficult to keep them in order. They quarrelled both with the freemen
about us, and with each other. Most of them resided in the village of
Kumlomba, a Blantyre headman, and he was expected to govern them, but he
had the greatest difficulty in doing so. More refugees could not safely
be received unless the Mission Directors appointed some layman to take
charge of them. Such government might have been a blessing to the poor
slaves, but as matters stood, the Mission ran the risk of collecting
around it a number of people each of whom would do “what was right in
his own eyes”. The reception of slaves no doubt had certain advantages.
Already nearly 400 had gathered about the station, and a great number
of these had sought an asylum in order to escape death. The Mission
had thus saved a great many lives, but at a terrible risk. Its course
of action had made enemies of all the slave-owners in the district, and
even tended to increase the slave-trade, for when a master saw that his
slaves might run to the English, he resolved to sell them off as soon as
possible. Again, the reception of persons who had fled to escape death
or any of the other hard consequences of slavery, soon led anyone that
fancied he had a grievance, to desert his master and seek refuge at the
Mission, while the kindly treatment he experienced made him desirous of
having his friends or relatives with him to share his advantages. Thus
the settlement was in danger of becoming a large state, composed of
all the discontented people of the country. Livingstone attributes the
failure of the old Portuguese Missions, to the fact that they made little
or no resistance to slavery, and the difficulty is greater than might
at first sight appear. When a missionary stands by and sees the evils
of slavery without actively interfering, the sympathy that he expresses
for the slave, or the protests that he utters, are regarded as insincere
by the natives: while the moment that he goes beyond moral methods, he
steps out of his proper sphere. It must ever be a dangerous experiment to
set hundreds of slaves free, and leave them to live without any of the
terrible restraints that their owners find necessary.

Already Kumlomba and his brethren were loudly declaring that some of
the refugees were very bad men, and could not live in peace. One grave
offender they escorted back to his master. I watched this experiment
with much interest, and Kumlomba’s men were able to tell me the effect.
As they went along with the slave they rested in many villages and talked
the matter over, and the villagers made the remark that the slave’s
master was “very fortunate”. Arrived at their destination, the Blantyre
headman said, “Here is your man, he will not stay peaceably with us,” and
the slave’s master thought that he had found “rare luck!”

Often slaves left a master for slight reasons. Many a woman ran away
because her husband had bought more wives, or because he would not sew
her clothes! Perhaps the poor creature inferred from such indications of
neglect that she was destined to be the prey of the first slave-dealer.
All that we could do for these refugees was to try that their application
to the Mission should not compromise them when they returned to their
home. On one occasion we asked some Blantyre people to accompany two
run-aways with the view of interceding for them with their chief. On
the way, however, the slaves dashed off from their guides and were not
heard of again! Sadder cases occurred where slaves tried to escape
immolation—they were going to be buried with their master, and craved the
Mission’s protection. We saw some painful cases where the slave and his
master were both present and both appealing to us. Once a young man and
his mother came and begged most earnestly to be allowed to stay at the
Mission. The woman represented that her husband had just been murdered
by a headman who wanted to take her for a wife. She said that the murder
had been committed for the very purpose of carrying out this marriage,
and protested that she would not go to the harem of the man who had
slain her husband. The Chief Kapeni was the uncle of this unscrupulous
headman, and came over, claiming the young lad and his mother too, and
asserting his right to dispose of them both. The party begging protection
were in a state of frantic excitement. As we explained our position,
they cried, “Oh Father, cut our throats here, we will die here, do not
send us back with Kapeni”. I said to Kapeni, “Would it be right in us to
protect you if you were running from a man that sought to kill you?” He
replied, “It would be right,” adding, “I do not want to kill the lad,
and if you come over to my village you will find him alive”. The first
time I visited Kapeni after this event, I saw the young man, but on no
subsequent visit could I find a trace of him! Another case struck me as
being unspeakably sad. It arose in the following manner:—As two boys
were playing at Kapeni’s, the son of Mtambo was killed by his companion,
a lad of 13 years. All admitted that the death was purely accidental.
The lad’s mother was a widow with six children; one of her daughters was
immediately taken from her and slain in order “to go along with” Mtambo’s
deceased son (32). But Mtambo not content with this, demanded the woman
and all her other children for slaves. The parties lived close by Kapeni
who granted Mtambo’s demand. The woman fled to Blantyre with all her
children. As she brought them in, we were struck with their appearance,
they looked most interesting children. The youngest was quite a baby,
the others, mostly girls, stood each about a handbreadth taller than
the next younger, the eldest being the poor lad that had occasioned the
misfortune. The elder sister had been already slain. How our hearts bled
for these poor children! The widow believed that Mtambo would kill more
of them. I wrote to the directors at the time, “Putting a remorseless
logic in the place of mercy, we think the Mission has nothing to do with
this case of Kapeni’s at all”.

Sometimes we tried whether unfortunate people might not be redeemed
from these hardships, but such redemption was uniformly refused. Two
relatives of Antani, our cook-boy, ran away from their master and came
to Blantyre, but had to be surrendered on demand. Antani was exceedingly
sorry, although he saw quite clearly that if he retained these people,
he was on ground that according to native views, made war against us
perfectly justifiable. We hinted that if he redeemed them he might then
keep them in his own village. He entered gladly into this idea, but the
owner replied, after Antani had sent his brother and negotiated for about
a week, “You, English, say it is not right to sell people, and therefore
I will not do it!”

One of the last cases we saw was that of a man who had escaped from
Cherasulo. Kumpama’s people came to ask for him and although quite
confident that he would be restored (for by this time the poor slaves
had always to go away), they thought it necessary to bring most damaging
evidence against him. Accordingly they produced a piece of calico stained
with blood, to show that this man had committed murder before he took to
flight. The people about Blantyre asserted that Kumpama’s party had shot
a guinea-fowl whose blood would account for the stained cloth! The slave
himself insisted that he had run away owing to bad treatment and pleaded
to be allowed to stay, otherwise his master would kill him. But he had to
be given up, Mr. Buchanan saying to his master, “Remember now, I am going
to pass Cherasulo and I will not believe you, unless you can shew him
alive when I come”.

The Mission Directors had been for a long time debating whether the
Mission could really exercise civil or criminal jurisdiction at all.
At first they had claimed such jurisdiction, but grave doubts arose
on the execution for the murder (page 109) and we did not yet know
which way they were likely to decide. They had taken about a year to
consider the subject, and no decision had yet reached us. Though well
aware that the Law of the Church prevented a Clergyman from being a
Magistrate, I thought it was competent for the Directors to carry out
their plans by means of Laymen, but it might be argued that the civil
Law of Scotland was against the exercise of any jurisdiction, as the
Directors had taken no steps to legalise their colony. If this proved
correct, then it was clear that even should the Directors insist on
Civil Jurisdiction, any magistrate appointed by them was liable in the
circumstances to all the consequences of breaking British Law. It was a
question in principle like what Scotch Churchmen were familiar with in
the Disruption Controversy. Should the Directors decide that the exercise
of Jurisdiction was necessary for propagating the Gospel in these parts,
and that jurisdiction was to go on as before, the decision was quite
intelligible so far as the Church was concerned, but it would not do
for any British subject to act on the view. The matter had an important
bearing on the question of fugitive slaves. Some of the Directors had
at one time admitted, to my great comfort, that it was not _expedient_
to receive refugees. But letters of a subsequent date were strongly in
favour of continuing the old practice, and Dr. Macklin who was now at
home, refused, we understand, to return to Africa, if slaves were denied
protection: so great is the proverbial detestation of slavery in the true
Briton. In official letters that arrived at this time, we were urged to
adopt a spirited Foreign Policy towards certain troublesome chiefs. The
directors indicated a plan of punishing some of these offenders, but
as the layman that they had sent out to act as a Christian magistrate,
declined to take such a delicate task, I was much puzzled to know who was
to be responsible for carrying out the scheme, and on April 5th, I wrote
to the Directors with reference to this plan:—“But take into account that
we are only poor dominies and tradesmen. The dominies have the Saturday
holiday at their disposal, but no other day without doing injustice to
school-work.”

It was, perhaps, fortunate that the arrangement for the civil management
of the Mission was in a state of chaos at this time. So far as the
Directors of a Foreign Mission are personally concerned, it is a
comparatively safe thing for them to send abroad instructions of the
above kind, for if complications should arise, they will be the judges
of their own conduct, and will, in any case, escape all the suffering
that may ultimately be caused. While, at the same time, they are
conscious that they are doing their very best to establish order in a
lawless land. Most certainly they are actuated by the purest motives.
But by such commands they would place a zealous lay superintendent in
great difficulty. He knows that he can easily raise the country against
an offending chief, and he reasons, “These are the instructions of
my superiors. I am aware that they cannot be carried out without the
loss perhaps of thirty lives. But the Mission Directors are honourable
men, they will stand by me.” Suppose then that the man goes forth and
fulfils his instructions with the loss say of only twenty lives. He may
now think that he deserves the praise of his superiors for carrying
out their orders at a smaller cost than he could have anticipated! But
when he sends home his report, he finds that scarcely has he received
the congratulations of the Convener, when other members of the Mission
Committee protest that they “had not attended the meetings, and did not
know that the Mission was a colony at all!” The lay superintendent may
then see a piece of chess-playing more like what he might have expected
among the heathen than among the church leaders whom he has honoured and
trusted; while the weapon of misrepresentation would be wielded with
great success. If the victorious army of the colony really killed twenty,
it would get credit for having slain its “tens of thousands”.

Had we been desirous to figure as civil magistrates or as African
chiefs we might have soon gained an influence like what was once wielded
by Papal Rome. Even persons that lived at great distances insisted on
coming to tell us of their grievances, and to ask for advice, while our
own neighbours were constantly appealing to us. In Scotland there was a
time when it was considered a reproach to allow a funeral to pass without
drunkenness: here it seems to be a reproach to have a beer-drinking
without a fight. In the more serious cases the combatants fire at each
other (usually missing), and then endeavour to strike their companions
with the butt-end of their muskets. If their skulls were not very
strong, there would be many fatalities. In such cases, however, although
requested to interfere, we were content with merely supplying the
sticking-plaster!

A printing press had been set out, which enabled us to supply wall-cards
for the Junior Classes. We printed also a few hymns and passages
of scripture, but our work at this was very slow. It would be most
economical for such presses to be accompanied by a good printer. As a
rule the Missionary is much more serviceable at his own calling, and
feels that while setting type he is precluded from work that he is better
fitted for. The English characters are well adapted for all sounds in
the Yao language, but not so adequate for Chinyasa. We found that the
usual naming of the English alphabet might be simplified with advantage
to our pupils. We call the letter _b_, _be_, while we call, _m_, _em_:
why not be consistent and call them either _be_, _me_, or _eb_, _em_?
Again as _w_, is always a consonant in this language, we named it _we_,
and not _double-u_. It is a pity that our system of English spelling is
so intricate, it makes our language very difficult to acquire. We felt
inclined to order for the school the “Fonetik Nuz!”

All this time I was intensely busy. A great part of my time was occupied
in teaching and preaching, and in the short intervals at my disposal for
my special work of translating, I could seldom sit down without being
liable to interruption. Many sick people looked upon me as a physician.
For a long time we had been in the centre of Africa without any medical
man. Natives came with all manner of diseases. One day we had a man that
was said to be mad. In some of his fits he had wounded a neighbour with
an arrow. Whether he was mad or not, he was evidently far from well, and
I gave him a large dose of Eno’s Fruit Salt. The poor fellow came back
next morning to tell us that he was better. His breath was no longer
offensive, and he looked cheerful. We were sorry when our supply of Fruit
Salt went done, it was a favourite both with natives and Europeans, and
is much used along the malarious coasts. Once I offered a sick girl a
dose of ordinary salts, but when she tasted it, she regarded me with an
injured look and the tears came to her eyes. Reflecting that I would not
have liked to take the stuff myself, I did not insist that she should.
But as a general rule, the natives, especially when there is little wrong
with them, will swallow the most nauseous medicines with great composure.
A chief sometimes came with a number of men and women, and three times
as many children, declaring that they were all sick, and demanding
medicine. In such cases the doctor had given Bismark the keg with castor
oil, and told him to go round and administer a spoonful to each. Although
there might be a wail from some disgusted infant, most of the party
considered the medicine a treat, and after the ceremony there would be a
great smacking of lips!

An effervescing medicine was a novelty to the natives. They thought it
was boiling, and anxiously asked, “Is it hot?” Even where we did not
know what was wrong with a negro, we gave him something. It was prudent
to do so, as he would otherwise go to the sorcerer, who might make him
believe he was bewitched, and ultimately get some one poisoned. Even
when he received English medicine, he was very anxious about shaving
his head, and otherwise conforming to African customs. It was always
difficult to diagnose a native patient, his answers to questions about
his symptoms were not to be relied on. He seemed to think it a religious
duty to declare that he felt pain everywhere. The influence of the native
medicine man was very great. Often a sick native will part with all his
property to procure some amulet. Occasionally the school children were
robbed of new dresses by this greedy practitioner.

At the end of this half year, a new medical man arrived. He brought us
the mail which told us that the Mission was to cease to be a colony. We
were now informed that our position “must be understood as excluding the
power and jurisdiction known as civil government”. All along I had felt
that _my own_ position excluded this jurisdiction. I was aware that the
Directors had “no right to give” me, and that I had “no right to receive”
any powers of this kind. But I was not aware that even in their days
of greatest perplexity, the Directors had desired me to act as their
magistrate, or to be conjoined in such work. The letter continued, “We
cannot make you civil magistrates over any portion of Africa, even though
we may possess property therein”. Well, why had they given commission
to various individuals to act as magistrates? Why had they, from the
beginning of the Mission down to the very last mail, urged the carrying
out of civil jurisdiction? We could only hold up our hands in amazement!
Besides, the real question at issue was of the simplest character.
It was not “whether civil jurisdiction was necessary in the region
occupied by the Mission”; it was not “whether Livingstone and other
travellers and hunters had caned offenders”; it was not “whether the
humblest artisan had not as good a right to protect himself in this way
as Livingstone had”; it was not “whether the laws of Britain were good
or bad,” but simply “what were the laws of Britain on the subject”. Now
the Missionaries received information that certain British statutes were
against the assumption of civil jurisdiction. “Any assumption, therefore,
of jurisdiction by us or by you in Africa, and any act of punishment done
in virtue thereof, would, in the opinion of the Committee, make us or you
liable to the provisions of these statutes.” This information would have
been worth a great deal to the poor Missionaries if it had been given
when they first left their homes.

Along with the Doctor, there arrived a servant to assist Mrs. Macdonald;
this was a great accession. For a long time I had been desirous of going
to Zomba and Cherasulo, but could never get away from school. Mrs.
Macdonald being relieved from an oppressive amount of other duties, now
undertook the teaching during my absence. On June 8th the Doctor and I
started for Cherasulo at 9·30. We reached the mountain itself by two
o’clock, but before we arrived at Kumpama’s the sun was setting. Most of
the natives live on the sides of high hills. This is partly from fear of
war, and partly because they find plenty of water in such situations. In
this land the streams of the mountain are much dried up before they reach
the plains.

_June 9._—Kumpama introduced me to his principal wife. Owing to the
custom of inheriting wives, this lady was a matron who could have been
his grandmother. We found the chief’s people exceedingly friendly. I had
bought a supply of beads from the Mission store, which I distributed
among the children. A present of small beads is valued by a native
child as much as a present of coppers is by a child in civilised lands.
Judged by the standard of these natives, a Missionary is considered
very wealthy. The blankets on the poor man’s bed, if cut up, would
clothe half-a-score of negroes! As I lay in the tent I heard some of our
dark friends discussing a proposal to rob us! One man good-humouredly
represented that it was not right to let us go out of their land with so
much goods! The others laughed, and said that they would like the goods,
only they were afraid of “the little guns!” (revolvers). When we arose
we found a great crowd of natives waiting to give us presents, and as
soon as we had cooked, the chief and some of his principal men came to
breakfast. They afterwards shewed us that the plants that had come from
Blantyre were growing well with them.

We were conducted round the district by Kumpama’s Prime Minister. The
chief himself had to judge some cases; and invited us to hear the
pleadings, but we declined, being anxious to spend the day in looking for
a likely site for a Cherasulo Mission. We saw many good spots, but we
wished Mr. Henderson to make the selection.

_June 10._—We started from Kumpama’s at seven A.M. while the dew was yet
heavy on the long grass, but notwithstanding very hard marching it was
sunset before we reached the Likangala. At this stream we were several
miles from Zomba, but we pressed on in the dark. With the roads that
are here we can understand how it is that one walking in the darkness
“stumbleth”. As we approached the Mission, we saw a great many little
fires at Lake Chirwa, which indicated that people were fishing there.

_June 11._—Zomba has improved greatly within the last ten months. Near
the station, roads have been made, which are much appreciated by the
natives.

_June 13._—Besides the usual meetings here, I had a service in the
village to the east of the station.

_June 14._—Mr. Henderson and the doctor left for Cherasulo to settle
about the new site.

Some of the pupils here can read the native language, although they
have been reading English chiefly hitherto. This time last year, none
of them had seen a book. The girls are not so civilised as the Blantyre
ones. Even in their games they shew this. At the station there are many
soft stones, and they amuse themselves by rubbing or grinding these to
make “flour”. During the process they cover their bodies with dust,
which sticks to them for the rest of the day. But they say that they are
willing to sew, and by and by Mrs. Macdonald will pay them a visit. The
last week or two I have studied Chinyasa. It will be a very easy task
to get acquainted with this language after the previous acquisition of
Chiyao. What a glorious field for energy one sees from this station—right
across Lake Chirwa! The lake is quite full of water now, and may be
useful to us yet. To evangelize the country on its shores, would be the
work of a life time. Bismark looks forward to being stationed on Lake
Chirwa when he “knows more”.




CHAPTER XIII.

FIFTH HALF YEAR. JULY, 1880—DECEMBER, 1880.


When left alone in a hut on the hill-side, one feels that domestic
comforts are a great help in Mission work. The old monks must have
encountered many difficulties when placed at any time among people that
knew nothing of civilisation. In such circumstances they would have been
obliged to leave their proper calling, and attend to their dinner, and
when one’s time is so divided, neither work can be well done. I leave
the commissariat entirely to the natives, and the order in which my food
is brought is often somewhat peculiar. In the morning there first comes
a small bowlful of milk, and then a piece of roast fowl: after a time
tea appears, then potatoes, and finally a plate of porridge! At dinner
too, after I have begun to flatter myself that I have got to the end of
my task, the boy will appear with a large plate of soup! My cook showed
considerable originality in the matter of dress. A few old cuffs had been
thrown away, and when ambitious to appear in a finer costume than usual,
he put one of them on his wrist, and as he wore neither coat nor shirt,
nor any such thing, the cuff looked very odd upon the bare arm. I was
thankful that instead of showing a similar originality in the matter of
cookery, he confined himself to an old bill of fare, for although cats
were very rare at Blantyre, I knew that they were plentiful at Zomba, and
that the natives did not despise them as an article of food.

While we were at Zomba, a war broke out at our very door. It was between
Malemya our own chief, and one of his headmen called Kumtaja, whose
relations have been explained above (§ 98).

One morning about eight o’clock, as we sat in the verandah studying
the language, we heard the report of guns. In a short time we saw
that Malowa’s village was in flames. Twenty minutes later, Kalimbuka
(or Kalambuka?) and his men arrived at the Mission station in great
excitement, clamouring for powder. The village of their friend had been
attacked, and one of their “brothers” was slain! While expressing much
sympathy with our neighbours, we had to refuse them powder. On this
Kalimbuka protested that we were not his friends, and declared that he
would send none of his children to school. True to his word, he called
away about twenty pupils that came from his village. Our conduct in
refusing powder seemed most dishonourable—we could not expect the natives
to understand it. Had we been attacked Kalimbuka would have at once come
to the rescue with all his forces. We could not have complained if he and
Malemya had proceeded against us as enemies. Yet when we settled in 1879,
we warned them both, that we would have nothing to do with their wars:
but Kalimbuka was not willing to be bound by this. It was not without
emotion that I saw my old friend go away with such a poor opinion of us.
Still he had listened to what we said. We insisted that he should wait
for Malemya’s help, for if he attacked Kumtaja alone he would likely be
beaten. We pointed out that his own village was yet safe, but that if he
was afraid for the lives of his people, he might bring them all up to our
station. This reasoning had little effect on a man burning to avenge the
death of his relative.

Messages were soon sent in all directions. It is surprising how quickly
natives communicate with each other on such occasions. During the day
several detachments passed through the station for Kalimbuka’s village,
which was soon the headquarters of a large army. All night the war drums
were beaten. Next morning we heard of nothing but great preparations, and
as the school was dismissed that evening, the wail of those that were
mourning the slain, came plaintively along the hill side.

Soon the time arrived for our return to Blantyre. When we passed
Kalimbuka, we found him more composed. But he knew that the English had
“something” that would burn any village from a great distance, and he was
anxious to try its effect on Kumtaja! On our way back, I was desirous to
visit Mityoche, the headman that gave some trouble last year. At first
our men had concurred in the proposal, but when the first of them came
to the parting of the ways, they quietly kept to the Blantyre road. On
reaching Blantyre, I wrote to Kalimbuka’s son exhorting him to return to
school as soon as his father would let him. It is a great gain when a
native is once taught to read a letter in his own tongue.

On _July 10th_, two men of Kalimbuka’s came to describe another battle,
in which they reported that four were killed, and four wounded. They took
back a message requesting that the wounded men should be sent over to the
doctor. A similar message we wanted to send to their enemies, but no one
cared to go there in case of being fired on.

Many people were now gathering round the Mission at Zomba, judging that
they would there be more free from war and kidnapping. Malowa’s villagers
who had been first attacked soon formed a large settlement close to the
station.

At Blantyre we still had difficulties about rations: grave disputes
would arise as to whether salt was to be supplied free, or charged at 6d
a pound—whether a pot of jam was to cost 9d or a shilling! The sister
Mission at Livingstonia, after experiencing this trouble, made a clear
arrangement. No doubt it looked very ungallant to tell a young lady
that she would get the daily allowance of an able bodied seaman—but its
Directors had to define what they meant, and they did so. After all, new
difficulties were sure to arise. The subject of salaries and rations
was hydra-headed; when one head was cut off, others appeared. On 4th
June, 1880, I wrote, “I am beginning to despair of seeing an ultimate
understanding on this subject, and the game is not worth the candle!”
The game, however, had often threatened to play havoc in the Mission. I
was told that on one occasion in 1877, every artisan was on the point of
leaving for England over this matter. But the difficulty most felt by the
Directors had reference to civil jurisdiction, and a deputation was to be
sent from Scotland to examine the whole subject.

During the last half year I had suffered much from ulcerated limbs.
The complaint was exceedingly common among the natives, and white men
that do not suffer much from fever in this country, pay the penalty in
some other way. After the journey to Zomba, I was worse, and had to
be carried back in a litter. I was then condemned to lie in bed for
several weeks. The Doctor had charge of many natives suffering from the
same complaint, but he found great difficulty in making them keep quiet
till the ulcers healed. A medical man fond of his practice is greatly
discouraged by negro patients. They will eat any quantity of his “little
bullets” as they term pills, but they will pay no attention to his other
instructions. A native girl once knocked down a revolver, which went off,
when a bullet passed through one leg, and lodged in the thigh of the
other. Fortunately Dr. Laws of Livingstonia was on the spot. He dressed
her wounds and told her that she must not move. Most of us were afraid
she was killed. Judge his surprise when on going to her in the evening,
he found her meeting him at the door! We had never yet succeeded in
getting a hospital for native invalids. One difficulty arose from negro
superstition. When a man dies in a house, that dwelling must be pulled
down. Hence if the doctor collected many cases that proved fatal, native
custom would require him to be constantly building new hospitals. The
people were all much astonished when on the death of a white man, the
survivors continued to “enter” his house. They expected some evil would
follow. At the Livingstonia Station a number of Missionaries died in
succession, and the negroes were apt to think that much of this fatality
might arise because Europeans entered the houses of the deceased. At
Blantyre, a poor woman died in the girls’ dormitory, which the African
young ladies consequently refused to occupy again. The next inmate of
that building was a young elephant, which also died. “Did we not tell
you so!” was the reflection of the natives. But notwithstanding the
superstition, they vied with each other in endeavouring to get slices of
the deceased animal for food.

About twelve o’clock one night, a slave raid took place, and two
children were carried off from a Blantyre village. An alarm was raised,
and most of us turned out. Amidst the darkness and the excitement, the
Blantyre party got divided into two sections, which had to signal to
each other by firing revolvers. The deputation that had just arrived
from Scotland, being accustomed to enjoy a night’s rest without all this
disquietude, were naturally alarmed, and they thought there were two
hostile armies firing on each other in deadly combat. However they soon
became acquainted with the facts, and imprisoned one man who was found
lurking about near the scene of the kidnapping. Amidst the darkness a
great number of people could have hid in the jungle near the station,
but during the tumult some one set fire to half-a-score of native huts
which lighted up the landscape most magnificently. The poor man that was
imprisoned could give no information about the slave raid. I left the
various parties in consultation and went back to bed. But a little later
a band of men were supplied with ammunition and sent out for the purpose
of hunting up the robbers. They marched on to a distance of about five
or six miles, but they could find no trace of an enemy. Next day it was
contemplated to send an expedition with the view of recovering these
children, but fortunately this was abandoned. Meanwhile it was discovered
that one Blantyre man had proved a traitor. During the disturbance he
did not appear because as he represented, ‘the enemy had overcome him
by a powerful dose of medicine so that he was unable to awake!’ The
deputation immediately went to deal with him, but they seem to have been
misinterpreted for the fellow went over to the kidnappers and proclaimed
war and every kind of evil unless the children were restored!

A few nights after this a rumour arose that Mityoche the headman of a
Cherasulo village, was going to attack the station. The old members of
the Mission heard the news with comparative unconcern, but it took them
all their might to prevent a panic. A plan was set on foot to pack us
all together into one spot. Now ignorant as these savages may be, there
is nothing that they interpret sooner than cowardice, and nothing that
they more despise. They actually laughed at the exhibitions of terror
that were but too manifest among the new comers. They said, “We are all
about you—we will not run away!” On serious occasions it has always done
us good to reflect that the lives of the natives are as precious as our
own. We had all along seen that in the event of an attack on the station,
any attempt at a scamper would be terribly hopeless. The natives, we
believed, would run but we could not. All our prestige would be gone.
We need never go back. Mrs. Macdonald on hearing of the expected attack
hastened home from an evening visit to Kumlomba’s to prevent an alarm in
her household, but the news had spread like wild-fire and she found her
visitors declaring in great excitement that the manse would be set on
fire by the enemy, and that everything valuable ought to be removed! She
thought it would be better to pack a few of the children’s clothes and
send to a safer place. While she was thus engaged some of her servant
boys came and asked what she was doing, and on being told they were much
astonished at the novel proceeding, and exclaimed “You doing that, Ma’am!
you never did that before! People set fire to your house! Not when your
boys are standing round it all night!” Gradually the excitement toned
down and only the strangers left the manse. The nurse however kept our
eldest boy dressed all night, so that she might be in readiness to flee
with him if it were necessary.

From the earliest days of the Mission, the rule had been for each man to
have a supply of powder and shot. I found I had been transgressing this
and went in quest of cartridges. Several of the schoolboys came in, and
we spent the evening in loading these. Our great hope, however, was
placed in two military rockets which were to be discharged into the air.
We thought a native army would be so terrified by such an exhibition,
that it would not wait to see what the white man would do next! The
deputation wished barrels of powder placed round the station, which were
to be exploded when a hostile group drew near! Our house was filled with
a number of women and children. One boy went into a bedroom and locked
himself in. He had evidently been frightened, and would answer no calling
or knocking.

Everyone was now prepared for the enemy; but no enemy appeared!

Some thought was given this half-year to the civil jurisdiction of the
Mission. The feeling of the deputation was that native chiefs should,
in accordance with English views, be called in to punish criminals that
belonged to their own tribe, but that they should be invoked as seldom
as possible, and that a summary method of punishment might be quietly
and judiciously carried out at the Mission itself. But it was distinctly
mentioned that artisans, when not at a distance from the Station,
should refer every grave case to the medical officer. This plan was
important, for while the majority of the artisans were men of humanity,
we occasionally heard of instances where white men had punished almost as
severely as did the natives themselves.

It could not, of course, be expected that a deputation would be able,
after a visit of a few weeks, to tell what plans would be best for
the settlement. All that they could do would be to indicate how much
responsibility the Directors might be willing to incur in succouring the
oppressed or in liberating the slave. So peculiar are the circumstances
of missionary life in districts beyond the range of ordinary
civilisation, that there is a proverb to the effect that “a Missionary
must not expect to do any good the first year, while he may be very glad
if he do no harm!” This applies with tenfold force to the case of agents
that deal with civil matters. Hitherto I had believed that a person
working as a clergyman would always have so much personal influence
that his own work would not suffer although mistakes were made in other
departments, but I now realized for the first time that individuals
entirely unacquainted with the natives might so manage secular matters
as to endanger the life of every European in the country. The deputation
proposed a scheme for the protection of the Mission. The idea was to
give Kapeni a large supply of gunpowder, and ask him to send over a
garrison to the station! We cannot say what protection this garrison
would have been against other natives, but we fancy the Missionaries
would ultimately have found the greatest difficulty in protecting
themselves from their protectors! Probably if it had been known that on
the appearance or even the threat of a single artisan, Kapeni and his
available forces would run to the hills, we might have heard less of this
scheme. After an interview, however, the deputation was content to part
with Kapeni on the following understanding:—“If you don’t give us notice
when Mityoche’s people are to attack the station, we shall kill only a
few of them; but if you give us notice, we shall kill them all”!

During the Mityoche scare, a strong watch was put on. Our cook boy was
one night making a circuit round our house when he met a foeman who is
a great terror to watchmen here—viz., a leopard. The lad acted with
admirable presence of mind. He felt that if he tried to get inside the
house, the leopard would have him before the door could be opened; so he
ran with all his might to his own abode which was about 100 yards off.
His wife and family were sleeping in our house, but he did not resume his
watching that night! Such wild animals were still about us. One night a
lion and a hyæna had a tough fight beside the Station, and the hyæna was
found dead next morning. Sometimes a leopard would enter a fowl-house
and kill scores of fowls, although he could devour only a few of them.
Leopards seem to kill for the purpose of gratifying their blood-thirsty
propensity. They do not come back to eat their victims; at least when
a strong trap was set in expectation of their return, it was never
disturbed.

Near the Mission seldom was any wild animal seen during the day; but
on the way to Zomba lions were occasionally observed. As a rule, these
animals are cowardly, and run off at a tremendous speed. On one occasion,
however, a traveller came upon a lioness with cubs. It must have been
a moment of terrible suspense. A few days before, we had been talking
on the subject, and discussing what would be the best plan in such an
emergency. We had agreed that the tones of the human voice might act as a
talisman! The gentleman accordingly, as he retreated with his eyes fixed
on the lioness, began to talk to an imaginary Johnnie—the name which
he gave to one of his native lads. (Johnnie, it is unnecessary to say,
was several hundred yards off and had gone up a tree.) When he reached a
bend of the path where he got out of the animal’s sight, he turned round
and ran as fast as Johnnie had done! One day an elephant gave chase to a
party of Missionaries who were on the way to Blantyre. Fortunately they
threw down an umbrella in their hurry, and when the great animal came
upon this, his fancy was so taken by it that he did not pursue its owners
any farther.

In finding suitable amusements for our pupils we had at first
considerable difficulty. Owing to the heat of the climate, the native
children are not so fond of active games as English children are. So long
as we took part in a game they played heartily but almost as soon as we
ceased, they also gave it up. Each Friday afternoon we had races and gave
small prizes. After a time they began to enjoy swings and football, but
the favourite game was “cricket”. We were glad that they showed a special
fondness for this game, as it proved a pleasant means of conveying
instruction. The calculation of the “runs” gave them exercise in
arithmetic (as we threw aside the Yao notation in favour of the English),
and when any one was appointed umpire, he learned to form an opinion
for himself and abide by it. Some sturdy bowler would often be heard
calling out “Pray sir!” He meant “Play sir!” but as the batsman with his
bare legs and arms was sometimes in greater danger than his wicket, the
formula was allowed to pass, with an occasional laugh from any that could
speak better. The native technical terms used in this game were amusing.
A ball rolled along the ground was termed a “rat,” while a ball that was
overpitched was called a “bird” (chijuni). Soon they learned the value
of pitching their balls properly, and a little piece of paper placed to
show the spot was called a cricket “charm”. Again, the umpire, instead
of saying that the batsman was out, declared that he was “dead!” Owing
to the great heat, the game was confined to the evening, and I found it
a simple means of securing that amount of physical exercise which is
indispensable for preventing a European from becoming a continual martyr
to fever.

The remainder of this half year I may describe by a few notes from my
Journal.

_October 22._—Some children asked me to go with them to the top of a
hill behind Blantyre. The ascent was very fatiguing. I saw and admired a
fine instance of native endurance. One girl of about eight years of age
carried a child to the top. I helped her at intervals, but she seemed
able to carry her charge for longer distances than I could. But alas! my
admiration was soon dispelled for in a short time she quarrelled with a
companion and bit her! This mode of fighting is common here, bare arms
and legs presenting a temptation to it. A boy found a hare in a trap and
wanted to make off with it all, but we called the owner of the trap and
had native law on the subject. The owner of course claimed the hare, and
allowed the finder one leg. He consented, however, to sell the rest of
the animal, and the children of the party had a feast. When natives have
meat they always eat bones and all, and they are not fastidious: I have
seen a man drive a dog from a bone and begin chewing it himself.

A few days ago a man came to Blantyre with his wife who was suffering
from a large tumor on her neck. The Doctor explained that the operation
was a dangerous one; and so it proved, for the woman died soon after
it was performed. Such a result is always awkward in a land like this.
Notwithstanding that the man saw how attentive the Doctor was to the poor
woman, he charged the English with murder, and made a great disturbance.
He came back some time after with the intention as he said, of mourning
for his wife. Although none of our pupils were quite at ease during his
stay, it was not till his departure that we clearly understood the object
of his visit. Taking advantage of the Mission hospitality to lay some
plans for kidnapping, he was able by the night of his departure to carry
off a number of children from a village beside us.[8] To-day I have been
visited by the parents of these children, who have as tender hearts as
Christian parents.

_October 29._—A slave of Chikumbu’s had come and lurked about the
Blantyre villages without permission. He was now sent back, but it was
suspected that his conductors allowed him to run off on the way and seek
an asylum elsewhere.

_November 9._—Mrs. Macdonald taking the nurse and the children and also
some native girls with her, went over to Zomba. The Doctor and I went
too—all the workers much needed a change, and Mr. Buchanan had consented
to take Blantyre for a while.

_November 11._—We reached Zomba. A white lady had never been here before,
and the inhabitants of the district were much excited over the matter.

I addressed the natives each day as usual. When Anyasa people were
present I used a native interpreter. I spoke in Yao, which the majority
of the people understood, while my friend translated into the speech
of the Anyasa. A speaker is safe in using an interpreter when he can
understand what he says. Often I had to give my man the exact Chinyasa
word. Sometimes he would make a careless inference, while at other
times he evidently thought that I did not do justice to the subject! I
mentioned one day that bad people would go away after death to “a bad
place”. He enlarged considerably upon this item. One of my reasons for
using an interpreter was to show the natives what interpretation really
meant, for when an Englishman had to speak through an interpreter the
majority of the natives did not realise that there was any connection
between the speech of the white man and that of his interpreter.

_Sunday 14._—After preaching at the station and one of the villages, we
had a pleasant evening among the children. They overcame their shyness,
and recited the parables to us. For the rest of the week we gave them a
parable each day, and asked them to recite it to us in the evening.

_Sat., Nov. 20_, was a school holiday, and we went to the top of Zomba.
Mrs. Macdonald intended to make tea, but when the boy produced the
match-box to light a fire, it was found to be filled with Mr. Buchanan’s
pens. As we descended we heard the “horn” blowing. On arriving we saw
that there had been a great disturbance. Just before we started I had
spoken to three natives, who said that they were going to drink beer.
I found them very agreeable men, and they stayed with me for some time
talking and laughing about the derivation of their names. In our absence
they came back quite drunk, and began to interfere with Bismark, who was
buying some goods for the Mission. After some altercation they threatened
to shoot him. Taking up his position in front of the Mission house the
poor lad was comparatively resigned to his fate. He said, “Well! you may
shoot me. I have just my mother in Quilimane and that is all!” But it
occurred to them that they might shoot the European nurse, who was with
the children, for then they might expect to carry off some plunder. But
various natives quietly interposed, and managed the drunk men. At length
they made off with the tablecloth! As soon as they were gone Bismark ran
to inform Kalimbuka, and his people pursued them. The pursuit was very
hot, for although the offenders might have gained miles before Bismark
could give the alarm, one of them was caught. He had been brought back to
the station just as we returned, and hundreds of natives had collected.
I entreated Kalimbuka to take the captive away as “we did not want drunk
men”. The man’s gun was also captured, and was found to be loaded with
two iron bullets and an enormous charge of powder. A “medicine” bag
was attached which contained small fragments of bones, which were so
pulverised that one could not tell what they had originally been. The
natives said they were human bones, but the doctor was doubtful.

The Zomba pupils were very diligent. Their supply of slates was
deficient, but they interchanged with each other, and groups of boys
were to be seen writing in the verandah after school. The other side of
the house was occupied by a crowd of girls who were getting their first
lessons in sewing.

_Saturday, November 27._—Mr. Buchanan came back, and there was a great
meeting over the drunk men of last Saturday. Malemya’s judge had cited
all parties—not excepting the man who had supplied the beer. Indeed it
was the beer that came under the gravest suspicion. It might have been
bewitched! If beer were held as responsible for crime in England, we
should soon have nothing but temperance hotels! The witnesses,[9] as we
should call them, recited what they knew of the case, and at the end the
learned judge gave an excellent and very impartial summary of each man’s
speech. He stayed with us all night, and we had an exhibition of the
magic lantern.

Mr. Buchanan brought over cattle from Blantyre, which were a novelty to
the people here. Few had seen cows before. Yet in many respects Zomba was
not so primitive. One day a party visited us on their way from Quilimane
to Makanjira’s on Lake Nyassa. They wanted to see whether we had a key
that would open their box! Here also we met a man that had seen us a
little above Quilimane after our arrival in the country.

_Sunday, November 28._—The attendance at the morning service was over 300.

_Monday, November 29._—We left Zomba, and as we slept at the end of our
first day’s journey, a heavy shower fell. The rain came through our tents
and we were obliged to put waterproofs over our beds. A shower here is a
perfect waterspout, and when it rains during day the more lively natives
avail themselves of the splendid bath. But on the present occasion our
dark companions were as much annoyed as ourselves. As each flash of
lightning made their figures visible, we could see them huddling together
in the corner of a tent. Near our halting place we found the remains of a
buffalo which had been killed by a lion.

Our school work at Blantyre was much enlivened by competition for
prizes, which took the form of blankets. The highest class had written
examinations every fortnight. All the little creatures kept working as
heartily as English children do in similar circumstances.

Various efforts were made to catch elephants with a view to training them
as carriers. Several young ones were secured but they all died.

On Christmas we had a school trip to Mpingwi. We passed the village that
had been concerned in the recent slave raid at Blantyre.[10] On seeing
the great band of children in full dress, the villagers all ran away
carrying their baskets and mortars with them. The scholars understood the
matter and cheered the fugitives. We go in single file, and I was among
the last. I had to hurry up in order to check these martial exhibitions,
and on our return we found the villagers quite reconciled and coming to
offer us food.

_Monday, 27th December._—We had two of the strangest refugees I had yet
seen. They were little brothers, the oldest could not have been over six
years of age, and his brother was quite a baby. They had run away from
their home, and come to the “English”. They had walked about four miles,
and appeared tired and hungry at Blantyre. As they were too small to be
left among other children, I went in search of a native woman to take
charge of them at night. While the poor creatures sat weary and footsore
in the Blantyre manse, I could not but wonder what reason they had for
leaving a home to cast themselves upon strangers. They had heard that the
English were “kind” to people, and the oldest said something about his
“mother”. Some poor slave woman she had been. But she was all the good
that they had seen in the world. Now she was taken away from them. Her
dying wish may have been to see them safe with the English, and now they
had come. We knew the man whose village they had left, for the children
told most truthfully every particular that older slaves knew so well to
conceal. Soon their master appeared to claim them; they, poor things,
could tell no reason why they should not go back with him, and their tiny
feet had to retrace the weary journey. They did not weep as older slaves
always do in such circumstances; they did not even speak, but their looks
meant a great deal. Hard falls the discipline of life on the poor African!




CHAPTER XIV.

SIXTH HALF. JANUARY 1881-JUNE 1881.


On the first day of the New Year we had a party of Headmen to dinner.
A cow had been killed the night before, and two boys were sent with
letters of invitation! The Headmen came dressed in shirts and gaudy
handkerchiefs. As they were not used to knives and forks, the meat was
cut up in small pieces and the vegetables mashed so that all could
be eaten with spoons. Their table-talk is just like the ordinary
conversation in other lands. Some of them had been unfriendly to each
other, but here was a little reunion. One Headman who lived outside
Blantyre was led to speak of a slave who had run away from him. He sat
beside Chibowa, a Blantyre Headman, who had been notorious for giving
secret protection to slaves ever since the Mission was against the
policy. We referred the slave-owner to Chibowa, “because when a person
was missing every one went to him!” The two men had often disputed with
each other before, but they could now join in the general laugh.

This half year I translated the greater part of the Pilgrim’s Progress.
Certain personages like Giant Pope I had of course to omit. Through _vivâ
voce_ teaching some of the classes knew and appreciated a great part
of this allegory. I was also very busy in translating the Scriptures.
We knew that the time required to translate the whole Bible was about
fifteen years, and Buchanan and I were anxious to try whether we might
not, by working as for a wager, complete the task in a much shorter time.
While we were thus busy on the Yao Bible we knew that Dr. Laws and the
Missionaries on Nyassa were advancing in the translation of the Chinyasa
Bible.

Towards the end of 1880, Chelomoni, a Blantyre Headman, captured two men
from Mpingwi, and put them in slave-sticks. They belonged to the village
that had kidnapped the children (page 218) a few months before, and
native law did not require proof that the men were personally guilty.
They were undoubtedly innocent. Still they were kept in close confinement
till their friends returned the captives in February. Chelomoni was not
content with simply receiving the children; he demanded compensation as
well, and insisted on having paid over to him as damages “many men”. But
ultimately he accepted one little boy, whom the Doctor took charge of.
During their long imprisonment the Doctor did what he could to see that
the prisoners were properly fed, and as Mrs. Macdonald employed them in
comb-making (an art which they could practice with their neck in the
stocks) they had some wages to receive on their release; hence though
their imprisonment was very long they did not seem to feel it so much
after all.

_Saturday, 26th February._—Having gone to visit Kapeni, I was conducted
by his sons to see Cholobwe—a man of royal blood, and often talked of as
Kapeni’s probable successor. I found a boy with him that had once lived
at Zomba and attended school there. The little fellow promised to come to
Blantyre, and Kapeni’s sons were to come with him.

_March 3._—I had a visit from Kumpama. He told me that he had been “very
busy for some time,” but had now come to see me. As we think ourselves
more and more into the natives’ views of life, we must admit that some of
them may be “very busy,” though at first we give them credit for being
extremely lazy. We were anxious to form an acquaintance with Mkanda, who
dealt largely in slaves and was understood to be hostile to the Mission.
When first visited by the Missionaries in 1877, he had proved very
uncivil, and since then he had often threatened to attack the Mission
settlement, which had done so much to ruin the slave trade. Even when Dr.
Macklin was returning from Mlanje in 1879, his caravan had been afraid
to pass too near this chief, and at the period of Mityoche’s attack on
the Mission carriers, Mkanda was believed to be hostile also. Hence he
required to be approached with caution. While talking to Kumpama about
his neighbours, I asked whether he could give us a guide to Mkanda’s, and
he at once consented to do so. It happened also that Kapeni’s “captain”
was working at Blantyre, and he was willing to accompany.

_March 4._—The Doctor and I started for Mkanda’s along with Kumpama.
When we entered Kumpama’s villages he left us with a headman whom he
instructed to conduct us to a sub-chief called Sapula.

Notwithstanding all our care, we arrived at Sapula’s at a very critical
time. The old man came forth and perched on the top of a large rock
overlooking our party and said, “Oh yes! at Mkanda’s it is good—very
good—plenty of war!” As we looked up to this chief, we might have taken
him for an apparition, while his strange utterances reminded us of the
responses of an ancient oracle. Soon he explained that Mkanda expected an
attack from Chikumbu that very night. The people who lived on this side
of Cherasulo were all full of terror, and had fled far up the mountain
to spots almost inaccessible. But a man who called himself Mkanda’s
father came down among us, and volunteered to be our guide, and after
some consultation we proceeded. Mkanda’s village was surrounded by maize
which was higher than the houses, so that we were close on it before we
were seen. When our party approached, some of those that saw us first
were scared and shouted “war”. This is always an awkward thing in Africa,
and it now made me quite anxious. Shouting out “war” to a party is much
the same as declaring war against them. In cases like this, everything
depends on the guide, and Mkanda’s “father” exerted himself and proved
equal to the occasion. Soon we mingled with Mkanda’s villagers, and I
recognised several that often came to Blantyre for work. Mkanda himself
was afraid to appear and kept hiding among the huts, while his people
could not refrain from laughing at him. It was not till all his children
were sitting about us that he came forth.

His conversation shewed that he was well informed regarding his country,
and I soon had a very favourable impression of his abilities. The thing
most on his mind was the danger of an attack from Chikumbu, but he was of
opinion that our presence would be in his favour. He has one square hut
which he put at our disposal.

Next morning he was able to congratulate us that Chikumbu had not come.
The time had been when Mkanda himself was expected in like manner to
attack Blantyre! In a short time he gave us a guide to the top of
Cherasulo, and directed the man to lead us by the easiest way. Mkanda’s
own children and most of the boys in his village accompanied us. They
could climb the rocky sides of the hill like monkeys. We soon discovered
that there was no easy way to the top of the mountain, and the guide
thought that, after we found out this, we should be glad to return. To
add to our danger, several loose stones lay on the mountain side. While
climbing we pulled ourselves up by anything we could lay hold of, and
the stones that did not bear the strain became detached and endangered
the lives of those that were following further down. The Doctor wanted
to find the height of the mountain and brought a kettleful of water to
ascertain the boiling point, but the boys drank the water on the way.
Probably they left as much as would have been sufficient, but our own
thirst was so terrible that the whole was drunk, and no more could
be found on the mountain top. While we rested on the summit we had
an opportunity of noting how many villages there were in such parts
of the country as we had not yet visited. The young lads that went
with us became very friendly and professed great interest in schools
and “reading,” and after our return to the village we gave them an
illustration of what reading meant. The Chief dictated words and names
which I wrote down on a paper. Three or four Blantyre boys who were
with me were conveyed far out of hearing, and carefully watched till
the writing was finished. They were called back one by one. Then each
looked at the paper and read. As soon as the words passed his lips there
arose a great shout of wonder and applause from the chief’s people. The
experiment was carried on for a long time because every old man that
joined the crowd refused to believe that it could be done, until he saw
it for himself.

This simple test of reading I often employed afterwards in other places.
Sometimes I varied the experiment by giving a boy my pencil, and then
asking to be conducted to the back of a distant hut. The natives compared
the “wisdom” to that of the witch detective, who is believed to possess
miraculous means of gaining information.

That day there had been a great trial at Mkanda’s. The particulars of
the case were these. Across the stream from Blantyre, a few minutes’
walk from the Station is a native village under a chief called Mkao. Two
sheep-stealers from Mkanda’s region came and carried off one of Mkao’s
goats. But they were pursued by terrible avengers. A native described to
me with great delight the fate that overtook them. When they were about
six miles from Mkao’s village they stopped in order to dine. They lighted
a fire and prepared to feast on the goat. As they were thus engaged,
Mkao’s men overtook them, and killed one of them on the spot. He was
“divided into pieces, and the parts of his body were mingled with those
of the goat”. The other thief escaped for a little, but his pursuers,
according to my informer, chased him round till he was down on the plain
opposite Ndilande, and then killed him “and hung up his body on a tree”.
Mkao himself had told me about the matter, but he left the impression
that he had killed only one thief, and that he wanted more vengeance. The
case happened to come up for consideration at Mkanda’s just now. When we
were on the top of the hill, guns were fired at the village to signify
that the complaint had been dismissed (kususa). On our return we heard
that the Chief had told the friends of the thieves that they ought not to
have stolen so near the English! Indeed, on our arrival, Mkao had been
introduced to me as a Headman belonging to Blantyre, and he called us his
Fathers, but, although he constantly came to visit, we never heard much
about the civil government of this “son,” except once that a herd boy
allowed some of our cattle to eat his corn, when Mkao’s people gave him a
severe beating, and broke his arm.

Mkanda was very friendly, and expressed a desire to have a Mission
planted among his people, in order that his children might learn to read,
and that his people might get work. As we might expect, these Africans,
at first, value Mission settlements chiefly for the employment that is
given, and the calico that is paid: “We want something to wear,” is the
general cry. The Mission, they think, must first clothe the naked.

While the natives get employment, they receive at the same time some
industrial training. They can learn a great deal from gardeners and
agriculturists, yet such training is apt to be overestimated. Bishop
Mackenzie, who wished to teach the natives how to farm, found that they
knew better than himself. They certainly know all about their own crops.
Mr. Duncan, the Blantyre gardener, had a few natives taught to look after
European plants, and he considered that they were nearly as good as
European workmen, but of course they had him to guide them. It is said,
‘They have not shoes, how can they dig with a spade!’ Yet they do dig
with spades. The bare foot of the native is a very different instrument
from the bare foot of the European. Although their own skill in carpentry
is not to be despised, they were much delighted with our tools and
methods. They soon learned to do the rougher work, under the Blantyre
joiners; and if they were able to read figures they could be taught to be
very valuable workmen. Sometimes, however, they excelled themselves! One
might see a native carpenter making a great show of using a plumb-line,
while he did not observe that the lead rested on the ground!

When Mrs. MacDonald had time to accompany me in visiting native villages,
she found a walk of four miles in the hot sun quite enough, and waited in
some village till I returned. During these stays she became acquainted
with the women, who usually demanded why she had not brought the children
with her. The latter were special favourites with the natives. Some old
warriors, whose very look was suggestive of the assagai, were very kind
to the white children.

_Saturday, March 19._—We paid a visit to Kapeni, and a great crowd of
children followed us back. In such journeys the heat compels us to rest
by the streams: and if we have carried any food we take lunch on the
banks.

_Monday, 21._—Kapeni’s children came and attended school. We consider
this one of the most important gains that have been made by the
Mission. We had long had all the children of the Magololo chiefs with
us, but their presence did not make the Mission school popular among
our neighbours. The Yao had given us the land and had made us welcome
to settle, and now we had nearly a third of our pupils from chiefs who
were hostile to them and who might be plotting to come up and ‘take away
their country’. Hence they were slow in sending their children to school.
Ever since my arrival I had been asking Kapeni about pupils whom he
promised me. “Don’t be in a hurry about that,” Dr. Laws would say, “the
day will yet come”: and now more than a dozen children were sent over.
They stipulated that they must be allowed to stay with Mrs. Macdonald’s
boys and that the Magololo boys should not be allowed to interfere with
them. Mrs. Macdonald took the main charge of teaching them to read,
and out of school hours they were supplied with cards and studied most
diligently by themselves. On Friday night they returned to Kapeni’s but
appeared in full force on Monday morning and brought a few of their
companions besides. They soon made themselves at home on the Station.
When any stranger called at our house, they generally introduced him and
as they knew all the people in the district better than our Blantyre
friends did, they were useful in this way. It was seldom that their royal
blood got them into trouble. But on one occasion they all attacked a boy
that ventured to speak of their father Kapeni as “an old man”. Another
time they had to be restrained from an assault on a lad that had spoken
to them in the Chinyasa language. They demanded to be treated as Yao!
They pressed me to visit their home on Saturdays. One day that I went
they asked me to go up the mountain (Sochi) to shoot baboons, which
greatly destroy the crops. Kapeni’s oldest son also came and we had the
appearance of being a hunting party! I wounded a baboon, and the boys
gave it chase and soon secured it. I suggested that they should leave
it behind till we found more. But African hunters don’t care to let
their “meat” out of sight, and in a few minutes they bored holes in the
baboon’s legs through which they put cords of bark, and then two boys
were told off to carry it on a pole. The carcase was borne faithfully,
sometimes up the steep mountain side, for about two hours. When we were
going back I remarked that it might be taken on to the village, but none
of them liked the idea of eating it “on the village green,” which would
mean that every villager would have a right to share it with them (67.)
On reaching the fields they lighted a fire and prepared to enjoy their
feast. I was expected to claim a large share of the “meat” as having shot
the baboon, and when I waived my claim they were much astonished—some
were deeply disappointed that ‘father would not take his meat’. But
notwithstanding their kind solicitations, I would take nothing but the
skin, which they took off very neatly, preserving the “fingers” of the
animal that they might “shew them to Mrs. Macdonald!” I pointed out that
they should reserve some meat as a present for Kapeni, and he was allowed
a hind leg. In the middle of the feast the owner of the field drew near
in great alarm. “Who has been making a fire among my corn?” he asked, but
when he saw the glorious roast he said nothing farther: he smacked his
lips and congratulated himself that he had come in time. After the party
had satisfied themselves by eating the internal organs the rest of the
meat was divided among them, not equally but rather in accordance with
their views of seniority. A baboon is a large animal and is considered a
great prize.

These boys from Kapeni’s all made fair progress. By the time we left
them at the end of June they were able to read their own language. They
wanted only practice, but as they left the Mission then, they would soon
forget much that they had acquired. The more advanced classes pleased us
well. Some lads would have got on swimmingly not only with Arithmetic,
but also with Euclid and Algebra, had we only possessed text books in
their own tongue. In April we devoted some time to the preparation of
a Grammar for them with progressive exercises. Geography and History
we had left entirely alone except so far as the Bible and Christianity
were concerned. Friday afternoon was devoted to instruction of a more
amusing kind. They all enjoyed seeing a light burning under water on the
diving-bell principle, and similar small experiments.

I always considered that the school had the first claim on my time; and
when teaching I refused to admit any interruption although all the chiefs
in the country should come to talk with me. This was well known, and
some chiefs, on arriving during school hours, sat about the doors, while
others came in and listened. Except when there was a European marriage
or some great event, we never had a single holiday. Even when groups
of armed men, almost on the point of deadly combat, were watching each
other round the school, I carried on the usual routine of school-work as
if all had been quiet. The religious meetings for the natives were also
conducted with unfailing regularity, although we had seen days when the
white men judged it prudent to come to the Sunday service with revolvers
in their pockets. The native men always appeared at our meeting with
their guns, which they laid down beside them during the service just as a
European worshipper does with his hat.

In May there was a scare. The Mangoni were believed to be coming, and
some of our villagers ran to the top of a hill. The Magololo carried
their ivory and other valuables to islands in the river. The mention of
the word Mangoni seems sufficient to clear out a whole village. One day
two boys began to fight in the jungle near Blantyre. In a little while,
the women of a neighbouring village were seen hurrying into the Station
with their children on their backs. They had taken the screams of the
combatants for the war-cry of the Mangoni.

At Blantyre we had many visitors, and they were received outside and
squatted on a mat in the verandah. When Kapeni or any of the greater
chiefs came, a chair was brought. All these native potentates were fond
of sweets. At first they had viewed them with the greatest suspicion.
I saw a headman once wait till all his companions had eaten, and when
he found that they were delighted with the strange eatable (yakulya),
he summoned courage and began to eat, saying, “Well, if I die, you will
all die too!” Kapeni would never taste jam because it was “like blood,”
but on one occasion we called his own children who did not hesitate
long. Indeed they were so fond of jam that they always pressed round
Mrs. Macdonald when she was making it, and if any was spilt, they would
insist on licking it off the floor. Although the visits of native chiefs
and headmen called me from my work in translating the Bible, yet I ever
found that such visits contributed to my knowledge of the language, and
I carefully noted down new words or phrases that they might use. We were
inclined to think that one reason why the Magololo sent their children
was that they thus found an excuse for visiting the Mission and obtaining
presents. All African chiefs are strong on “presents,” and the custom was
both expensive to the Mission and demoralising to the chiefs; but it was
very difficult to make a change. Incidentally, however, we fell on a plan
that modified matters. When a chief came up and obtained his present, we
bought some goats from him and paid the price there and then. When he
went back to his home, he did not send up the goats, and as he wanted
us to forget all about the bargain, he did not visit the Mission to ask
presents for a long time! The habit of giving presents to the Magololo
headmen provoked the jealousy of those beside us. Kumlomba and the
other Blantyre headmen would say, “Why do the English not give us ‘big
presents’ too?”

At first the Missionaries had occasionally asked the natives, “For what
purpose did we leave our homes to come here?” The latter, who never leave
their friends except when driven away by war, replied, “You came here
because there was war in your country.” But as the evangelistic work was
steadily conducted, it gradually became more hopeful. At sunrise we had
prayers, at which all the workers were present, and such of our pupils
as lived close at hand. Before sunset there was a similar service. At
mid-day I preached to the natives. On Sunday we had two native services,
and after one of these the natives began to hold a little prayer meeting
of their own. Statements that are taken for granted in a Christian
congregation at home will not pass here. Instead of allowing that he is
a sinner, the ordinary native maintains that he has never done anything
wrong: although he will admit that a great many other people have sinned.
Out of compliment to the traditional policy of the English in this
country, the natives say that it is bad to sell people: to possess slaves
is quite right—every rich native has his wealth invested in this species
of goods—but to buy or sell slaves is wrong. Hence when a man goes over
to stock his farm or his harem at the great slave mart in the Mangoni
country, he declares that he goes there to redeem (kuwombola) people!
“The Mangoni had captured slaves, he goes to release them!” But he does
not venture to pretend that he gives these “ransomed” persons their
liberty (62). Another thing which the natives condemn is war. The party
that first arrived in the country had made the evils of war a very common
subject of meditation. They almost betrayed a personal interest in doing
so, for they would frequently say, “Remember, now, that if one Englishman
be killed, twenty will come to his funeral!” This statement of itself
would be enough to frighten the native from trying his slugs on the white
man! The negro was also told that the white man had acquired clothes
and money and all such good things because he was a man of peace. “We,”
it was said, “come from a country which does not fight.” If the black
man had known anything of English history, I fear he would have drawn a
different conclusion, and been much perplexed at the coolness with which
his instructor repeated the questionable assertion! In the same way the
exhortations to civilisation were of a doubtful nature, and could only
proclaim how little the foreigners knew of the natives’ condition. I
refer to subjects like these because I have ever felt that a Missionary
is in a doubtful position except when he sets himself to deliver his _one
great message_. After he has exhausted that theme, it is time enough
to take up others. Many think that barbarians might be improved if a
Missionary confined himself to purely secular teaching. But the purely
secular instructor would find it difficult to meet the objections of his
audience. “Why should we try to buy English clothes, if we like our own
better? Why should we build larger houses—our own suit us very well? Why
should we farm more ground when we are quite contented with the food we
have?” If they asked further whether this civilisation always made men
happier and better, the civilised man could not tell them that it did.

Undoubtedly, a native might become a very good Christian, and still be
content with his small hut and his coarse fare. If mere civilising agents
had met with a man like Abraham, I fear that the life and manners of the
patriarch would have been too simple for their tastes. Yet, while the
Missionary takes for his text “One thing is needful,” he knows that other
things will be added thereunto. He feels that he has to proclaim “good
news” which will bring happiness to everyone that believes it, and as
he looks along all the stages of the native life from the day that the
African draws his first breath beside a stream in the dense forest till
the day that he lies down on his mat to die, the Missionary knows that
these glad tidings will soon brighten the whole.

The native beliefs regarding witchcraft must occupy the attention of
the preacher, who will fail to impart Scripture ideas of the government
of the world unless he refer to the opposing views. The opinion that a
man cannot die without being bewitched, is one which they cling to most
tenaciously; and withal they are very metaphysical. We might think that
a single lecture on physiology from a medical man would cut up this
doctrine by the very roots. But no. The natives admit that death is
always the result of injury or decay, but they maintain that this fact
does not in the least discredit their own theory. It rather confirms
their belief, for did not the witch use means to bring about these causes
of death? As the natives seldom speak of their customs and beliefs, one
may live here for years before becoming aware of the evils and hardships
that so many Africans endure: but when these things are known in all
their horrid enormity, they furnish a text for a great many “practical
remarks,” and the poor people listen attentively to every subject that
bears on their ordinary life. To ourselves the sad practice of the
witch-detective gave a new meaning to the text “Thou shalt not suffer a
witch to live”: for if there be beings that ought not to be suffered to
live these sorcerers must be among the number. Each year they consign
scores of their fellow mortals to an untimely grave.

By certain parts of their experience, these natives, it might almost be
said, have had their minds prepared for receiving the Gospel message.
They know what it is to be redeemed from the evil consequences of their
own actions (80), as well as from slavery, and they see numerous cases
where a criminal is legally set free while another man occupies his
place. As a matter of fact, many of them began to understand what was
meant by the statement that “the Son of God died to save sinners,” and
were affected by it, and told their companions that it was wonderful
news. Often, in places where a religious creed has been long established,
persons hear these words without reflecting on their meaning, but
intelligent Africans cannot do this. Again in our Western world we do
not know so well as they do what it is to be _entirely_ at the disposal
of another, and to have no private ends. Amidst the ordinary life of
struggle and bustle, our ideal of a successful man is a person that is
intensely devoted to his own interests, while their state of society,
with all its defects, produces men that are as intensely devoted to the
interests of another, and some of whom could enter with much sympathy
into the feelings of the apostle who called himself the slave of Jesus
Christ.

We occupied a position of most momentous importance, standing as we did
at a point where a savage assemblage was becoming more like a Christian
church. Already we could discover the workings of a mind that had shewed
itself in the history of the past. The natives might easily be led to
believe that certain ordinances were as important in the Christian
religion as certain charms were in their old faith. They would soon infer
that the waters of Baptism would have as great an effect upon them as
the waters of the Jordan had on Naaman the Syrian. In accordance with
this they would attribute the greatest powers to the Missionary, and, as
regards the majority of the people, who depended on him for all their
religious information, that personage would be to them nothing if he were
not infallible. To such views the people around us, many of whom had once
been slaves, seemed very much inclined when they approached the subject
with earnestness. Well might one suggest to them the prayer:—

    “Be with us in this darkened place
    This weary, restless, dangerous night,
    And teach, O teach us by thy grace
    To struggle onward into light!”

_May 21._—The mail for the Livingstonia Mission has arrived from
Scotland, and we learn now from a newspaper that all the Missionaries
that were labouring at Blantyre during the time that the settlement was a
colony have been recalled, and to some extent censured; but the grounds
on which the Directors have proceeded are by no means clear. At all
events the same method if carried out consistently would have recalled
all the Missionaries that had laboured at the two Scotch Missions. The
Church of Scotland through the Blantyre Committee first established a
colonial settlement. While this settlement was in full swing I was asked
to join it as a clergyman. All the Directors ought to have been well
aware that they could not require a minister of the church to act as a
magistrate, or to interfere in such civil jurisdiction. They understood
that the secular department was getting on very successfully, and seem
to have imagined that the colonial government which they had set up
would protect the minister in his special work, just as clergymen and
others are under the protection of the civil powers in Britain. Hence
I had been officially and specially instructed to leave such matters
to the lay agents of the Mission, who were presumably more familiar
with them than clergymen, and when I reached Africa the enormous claims
that the Missionary work of the settlement made upon me left me no time
to consider anything else. If a man desires to be signally useful in
any department of activity, his motto must be “this one thing I do”.
But as the whole subject was now examined by persons that did not know
its special circumstances, I was held responsible for carrying out the
details of a policy in which I never interfered.[11] So far as the
colonial work came under my notice, I had watched it with interest, and I
found that in many respects my own views were entirely against the policy
that had been sanctioned at home.

This morning I went round Ndilande for the purpose of finding a spot
where I could form another Mission Station. It will be a great pity to
leave these poor people because of the censure of Directors who know so
little about the subject.

_May 28._—I went over to visit Mr. Buchanan at Zomba. The inhabitants of
the villages I passed through, all knew that Kapeni’s children had gone
to stay at the Mission Station, and they talked of this as if it had
been quite a new feature in our work. The villagers thought that it was
a great advance and said, ‘O father all our children will now come to
learn!’

On stopping for food in the forenoon, we found that we had no matches,
and it seemed therefore that we could cook no dinner. But the natives
in a few minutes produced fire by friction, and then carried a piece of
burning wood all the rest of the journey. Almost every party of native
travellers has its fire-carrier who is appealed to when his companions
wish to smoke, and who is able to light the fire at a halting-place
without any delay.

I stayed at a spot which is now covered with dense jungle, but on
clearing a space to pitch my tent for the night, I found that there had
once been a village which reached down to the side of a pleasant stream,
but it had been sacked long ago by the Mangoni. At midnight we heard two
hyenas very close to the tent, while about four o’clock in the morning, a
great herd of buck came to the stream to drink.

_May 29._—I reached Zomba about three o’clock in the afternoon and found
Mr. Buchanan looking pale and dispirited on account of the hard sentence
which had been passed against him. He had no idea what the grounds could
be. As we subsequently learned from the best authorities, the so-called
leaders of the Church had feared that the British Government would
enquire into their assumption and exercise of civil jurisdiction: still I
could not appreciate any motives of expediency however urgent that led to
inflict on such an earnest worker so much loss and suffering without the
semblance of a trial. So far as I could judge, every one that carried
out the details of civil punishment felt called to the unpleasant task by
the Church herself, and, indeed the “leaders” now much regretted that the
Church had instructed its agents to act as civil magistrates; but while
they were most generous in sharing the _blame_ they did not seem desirous
to share _the loss and the suffering_, which they were so anxious to
inflict on the Missionaries. Nor did they wait to see whether the latter
had any defence to offer. As I spent that hot day at Zomba, I felt that
a great injustice had been done. I knew the Lay Agents that had been
dismissed and I knew the men that had condemned them. For five years the
former, while devoting all their time and talents to the service of the
heathen, had been obliged to live in hovels, to spend sleepless nights
amidst enemies and many dangers, to battle with discomfort and fever and
hunger, while the latter lived in comfortable homes amidst friends and
relatives. The Missionaries were much puzzled to know where they had done
wrong, and in some cases there were years of their engagements yet to
expire. One might have expected, with Shylock’s judge, that the Church
leaders would have been less hasty even although it had not been ‘in the
bond’. By condemning men whom they had not heard, they had given their
Missionary work in Africa a severe check for several years to come. They
would not however realise this—there is an unfortunate tendency to look
quite as much at the fame of organisations as at the good done among the
heathen.

After considering our prospects we felt that we could easily form a
good Mission in some corner of the vast district. We might have much
difficulty in maintaining ourselves but we were resolved to do what we
could to teach the poor people that we had struggled for so long. For
myself I was greatly in favour of this step, but in case I should find it
expedient to leave for England, I began to revise the native Grammar and
Vocabulary that I had drawn up.

Although civil jurisdiction was now disclaimed by the leaders of the
Church, it was still, as might have been anticipated, exercised at the
Mission Settlement. Every now and then something had to be done which was
liable to be represented as an atrocity. At first the Blantyre villagers
had willingly come forward when their services were required by the
Missionaries, but now they often declined in cases where their aid seemed
indispensible. Even when the deputation was present, these natives were
forced out to do work of this kind. As a general rule, African savages
are blamed for being timorous and easily overawed, but this is not always
true. A man refused on one occasion to do some duty that was required,
and received a message from the Lay Superintendent requesting him to come
up and state what excuse he had to give. But the native refused even to
make this small concession, remarking that ‘he was not the slave of the
Blantyre Settlement’. He was then told that his home would be burned
down, when he replied that he did not care; and the result was that he
sat with his family and looked on till his house was reduced to ashes.
Even this did not banish him from the Settlement. For several days he
was sheltered by certain of the Blantyre villagers, who did so, even
although threatened with a similar punishment. Indeed, natives often
risk a great deal in aiding their friends. Owing perhaps to the paternal
nature of their government, they are more willing to share the punishment
of a relative, however bad he may be, than to turn their backs upon him.
This half-year, one of the Blantyre villagers had given a great amount
of disturbance. When the Lay-Superintendent tried to reason with him,
the native threatened to burn his house. One night an effort was made to
capture the man, and all the fire-arms of the Mission were turned out in
the adventure. It seems that the Mission party expected to capture him
by surrounding his house, but they found that he had escaped, one of the
natives remarking that the “English need not go to capture anyone because
their boots spoke too much” (_i.e._, made too much noise as compared
with the bare feet of the negroes). On this occasion one of the Blantyre
Headmen joined so zealously in the pursuit that he did not go to bed.
Judge the surprise of the Lay-Superintendent when he discovered that in
a few nights after the hunt, the fugitive was the guest of this very
headman!

We still had many instances around us of a rough and ready form of
executing justice which we should have liked to see entirely abolished.
One evening a native, through a piece of very clever, but at the same
time, very mean treachery, stole two valuable rings from an artisan; the
latter felt that if he informed the Superintendent he would certainly
lose his rings, and taking his gun on his shoulder, he marched straight
to the village, where the thief lived, and secured the man’s wife and
daughter and began, with great show of severity, to “beat and confine
in slave sticks”. The headman of that village, who was then returning
from Ndilande, met “all his people calling out ‘murder’!” So much were
the villagers terrified that they were afraid to sleep in their village,
and the headman came in to me with a sad tale. The artisan, however,
recovered the rings, whereas if he had tried to reason calmly, he would
certainly have exposed himself to the ridicule of the natives, who are
too ready to assume that clemency springs from want of power. Nor,
indeed, does the British Government itself resort to reasoning as the
method, of dealing with criminals.

The natives sometimes behaved in a very peculiar manner on the exercise
of such discipline (which is, indeed, the only kind of justice they
are familiar with). A strange case was brought under my notice in the
following way:—On going to a village one Saturday morning, I was greatly
astonished to find all the villagers running away on my approach.
Unless my pupils had shouted out who I was, I should not have found any
one to speak to. But the people all hastened back, and explained why
they had been afraid at the appearance of a white man. A person from
their neighbourhood had stolen, and an artisan, after failing to get
satisfaction, had gone over and set fire to the village where the thief
lived and shot down the fowls. Immediately after this exploit the artisan
found the villagers coming in with presents to him, admitting that they
had done wrong in stealing, and professing their willingness to pay
damages! Native character is sometimes an enigma. On one occasion a
chief stayed for a few days at Blantyre. Several English visitors courted
his friendship very much, and often went a long distance out of their way
in order to shake hands with him when he was drunk; the sable chieftain
laughed at them and called them hard names! A Portuguese gentleman
who was present at the same time, gave the chief no such honour, and
explained that, though acquainted with natives all his days, he had never
shaken hands with one in his life; yet he gained the chieftain’s sincere
respect.

Traits of character like this, force themselves at once upon the
attention of persons that settle among the negroes, and though even a
little experience shows that the native can value goodness, men that have
no love for him, are apt to treat him in a shameful way.

_June 2nd._—Shortly after my return from Zomba, there occurred a
melancholy incident which illustrates the difficulties that may flow from
sending to a Mission men who do not even profess Christianity, and who
are destitute of all education or refinement. A misunderstanding arose
between an artisan and a native headman, and the matter was being settled
by the Lay-Superintendent, when the artisan so far lost his temper, as
to strike the poor headman a violent blow, which covered his face with
blood. The conduct was deplored by everyone, except, perhaps, the actor
himself. But in such cases (which are too common, whether in connection
with Missionary or other settlements) little can be done. The artisan,
if dismissed, has it in his power to stay in the country and give a
great deal of annoyance, while it is not possible to fill his place,
perhaps, for a whole year. Indeed, one often felt the need of a proper
government in such remote places. It was no uncommon thing for an artisan
to threaten to shoot his fellow labourers, and to send them letters
challenging them to deadly combat. Such men, as might be expected, would
treat the natives very badly.

_June 9._—By this time the mail arrived for Blantyre which brought us
further particulars, as to the manner in which the Church had treated all
that were supposed to have any share in the management of the Colony.
We now saw a report in which hearsay matter was published even though
it was the words of a person who had not been present at the events in
question. I found notes that had been taken down from myself quoted
without the explanations I had given and sometimes used to convey a
meaning that was not intended. When I wished to correct these notes on
being asked to testify their substantial correctness, the proceeding
had been demurred to by the deputation who stated that explanations or
corrections could be sent after them. Such corrections in the absence of
the notes of which no copy was left, took the form of a general statement
which was sent afterwards but was never considered. The method in which
many Churches manage their Missions is not encouraging. “A Mission is put
under a committee which although shewing many names in the Reports really
consists of one man. In cases of emergency a Committee of advice is
formed—which gives another man. A Presbyterian Church, by its gradation
of Courts (Presbyteries, Synods, and General Assemblies), secures the
advantage of mature deliberation. But in the treatment of Missions
we find neither Presbyterianism nor Episcopacy nor any known form of
Ecclesiastical Government. The Missionary is liable to be handed over
to a clique composed partly of those that have ‘gained popularity,’ and
partly of men who are held in respect on account of their wealth.” In so
far as Missionary Methods come under a criticism of this kind they should
be re-considered. The cause of Christianity among the heathen is one of
the most important subjects that can occupy the attention of any Church.

In accordance with the wishes of a great many of our old friends in
Scotland, I made up my mind to return home. When I mentioned this all
our natives paid parting visits to us. Many brought what they called
keepsakes (malangano.) Some were very pathetic, one lad was to “save
calico and by and by pay his passage to England”. Bismark had been
promised “an English education” and he wished to go with us. So also
did Ndiagani, a native girl whom we were to educate ourselves. She had
consented to become Bismark’s wife, and he “did not want to marry a
stupid girl that knew nothing”.

After all, I expected to be of some service to the Mission by going home
at this time. Besides having Matthew and Mark ready for the printer, I
had translated the historical parts of the Old Testament, and hoped to
get these printed and illustrated. I had also rendered a great many of
Æsop’s Fables. I thought I should succeed in forming two interesting
books for the school, especially if I could get them well illustrated.
Young natives much appreciate pictorial teaching. I had taken special
pains to see that the language was accurate; all my earlier efforts I
could easily improve upon. 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 who conveys a written message
in a split wand, have a liking for kalata (letters.) When my last printed
translations came back the boys and girls found out the place where they
were kept before being issued, and would steal an hour from their work or
their play in order to have the pleasure of reading something in their
own tongue.

On the last day of June we said Good-bye to the school children. We found
it unspeakably hard to part with them.




CHAPTER XV.

SEVENTH HALF.


On July 1st we left Blantyre about 6·30 A.M. This was an unusually
early hour. It generally happens that people wishing to start at six in
the morning are detained till nine. The carriers may come about seven
o’clock, but they say that they must go back to their homes for food.
Some of our carriers, although they had been warned beforehand, neglected
to bring provisions with them, but so many natives had come that we had
no difficulty in filling their places.

Once fairly started, the carriers proceeded at a rattling pace. The
road for a long way was filled with the school children and other
acquaintances who wished again to say farewell. Among others Kumlomba
made his way through the crowd a little above his village, and placed a
knife in my hand as a keepsake. Great numbers of the school children came
running along for nearly two miles. One of the last to leave was Kanjira,
who had been the first to meet us on our arrival in 1878, and had since
then been a very regular attendant at school. He was now regretting the
departure of his ‘teacher’ in very touching words, and expressing his
intention to go with me. I had to impress upon him that this idea could
not be entertained, but the little fellow did not go back till we were
near the Nampele, a stream four miles from Blantyre. Another lad was
more determined still, and resisted every argument. As a last resource I
filled both his hands with beads to see if this would not make him fall
behind, but notwithstanding our rapid pace he persisted in following.
Farther on we met a company of men going to Blantyre, but he could not be
induced to return with them. He answered me much in the words of Ruth to
Naomi, “Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after
thee”. Now he was so far on that it would have been unsafe for him to go
back alone. But as we were approaching Mbami we met more men going to
Blantyre, and as we now insisted on his return, he sorrowfully obeyed.
The little fellow must have been tired, having come about twelve miles.

We reached Mbami about ten o’clock, here the carriers rested a short
time, while I talked with the headman and his people.

Soon we started again; to see that no one fell behind I went last. The
carriers marched in single file—often forming a line which might extend
for a mile or more, as they did not keep close together. Scarcely was
I out of sight of the village when I heard a great commotion—people
were running and shouting. All the inhabitants of Mbami seemed to be in
pursuit of a girl who was running as if in desperation. When within a
few yards of me, she was caught by a young man, but she struggled most
violently. I asked what was the matter, when the girl whose face was wet
with tears, cried out, “I wish to go with you”. She laid hold of me with
the greatest earnestness just as the other pursuers were coming near.
The girl’s mother was there reproving her with “Will you leave your own
mother?” I tried to calm the girl and told her to stay contentedly at her
home. All the people said, “Do you hear that now? he tells you to stay at
your home,” but by this time her little fingers had clutched my coat. I
put beads into her hands, as this is usually an infallible way of getting
the hands of a native diverted—so great is the desire for the money of
the land. But this creature held on and let the beads fall. It was the
mother that let go her hold of the girl in order to pick them up. Again I
tried to soothe the child while her mother and all the women coaxed her
by saying she would get to Blantyre to school and the Msungu (white man)
would come back again and teach her, but after all she went away weeping
most bitterly. I was myself deeply affected. Perhaps the girl was a poor
slave who had been stolen away from her true mother. One may know natives
a long time without making out their true relationships (59.)

Mbami is a pretty spot, and has a good supply of water. It may one day
form a small Mission station. A little beyond it we could hear the sound
of a waterfall. The headman lived once with the Magololo, but he disliked
their laws, and now he is practically a chief himself. But if a war broke
out between the Yao and the Anyasa he would have to join either the one
party or the other, else he would be liable to the attacks of both.

The next places we pass are Mazibango (water-reeds), Makoka, and
Chipindu, which are of great interest to the traveller, as being the only
places where water can be found to quench his thirst. After Chipindu
the road, which is hitherto level, descends rapidly to the plain of the
Chiri. Just as we entered on the plain we were agreeably surprised to
meet Katunga’s sons, and, after advancing a little, we found the chief
himself with about sixty men engaged in making a canoe, beside a stream
called the Namyala. Having now walked about twenty-five miles, I was
very thirsty, not to say hungry. Katunga was sitting on a box, which he
gave up for me. I pressed him to share it, but he sat down beside me on
the ground. We had now some refreshment. The Chief explained that he was
not able to walk, as he had been for some time suffering from bad legs,
but he said his men would carry him to the village, to say good-bye. A
march of another hour brought us to Katunga’s capital. All his sons had
accompanied us, and I told them to write out a few lines of their books,
that I might shew my friends in England how they could write. They soon
finished this little task.

Now came another of those sad farewells. When the carriers had finished
their work they came to us for the last time. We knew most of these men
so well—men of Kapeni’s, men of Matache’s, and men of Blantyre were
there. There, too, were Ndiagani’s mother and little sister,—the latter
a small child, whom I had often carried along the road during the day.
I wished to give her all the beads I had, but though I turned out my
pocket, I could not find as many as would fill her tiny hand. We were
now left among the Anyasa, all of whom, except the chief and his family,
were strangers to us. Just as it was getting dark, the chief came in, as
he had promised. He gave me a present of two goats and a bag of rice. I
pointed out that one goat would be enough, but he said, thoughtfully,
that we had better take them both ‘for the journey’. On going down to the
boat, I found Mrs. Macdonald and the children preparing for the night.
Much was yet to be done in arranging the boxes, so as to make a level
place for our beds. The Anyasa, whether from want of acquaintance with us
or from the more enervating nature of their climate, were not so ready to
render help as the Yao. We had to do all this work ourselves; the natives
merely looking on, with the exception of the chief’s sons, who soon found
their way down to the boat.

What a magnificent river glided past! How glorious it seemed to us, who,
for three years, had seen nothing bigger than a mountain-stream. The
native girl, Ndiagani, was in ecstasy at the sight, while our little
boy lay over the boat, apparently lost in contemplation. The great
silent river was smooth as a vast mirror: and yet on its surface we
could see thousands of little ripples passing down in quiet succession,
and speaking of the individual men and women that pass down the great
stream of time. How insignificant is each ripple in itself, yet none is
small enough to be overlooked: all are carried silently on and on—to the
eternal shore!

After the boat was ready for the night, I went up to the chief’s again.
He was sitting outside in his courtyard, all alone, beside a bright fire,
expecting my return. The shades of night were now gathering round us,
and his thoughts reverted to days gone by. He talked of Dr. Livingstone,
and Mr. Waller, and others that had long-lived in his memory. Before we
separated he wished me to remember him to Dr. Kirk (the British Consul at
Zanzibar), and to report to him that Katunga’s gun was broken! Then he
found a boy to conduct me through his village to the boat. Just outside
the village, we passed a herd of pigs. These animals seemed quite wild:
they run at large all day, and come in to the villages at night.

Our bedroom was the small open boat. Mosquitoes were numerous and
vicious, and the children were bitten severely. Next morning as soon
as it was dawn, I went up to the chief to get boatmen as quickly as
possible. He was sitting where I had left him last night, and a little
boy was by him cooking a fowl for his breakfast. The natives cook fowls
in a very primitive method, which, however, we have often adopted
with satisfaction. The legs and wings are turned backwards and joined
together, so as to hold a small stick which goes along the back of the
fowl. The stick is fixed in the ground, and the fowl at the end of it is
so placed as to get the full benefit of the fire.

The Chief promised to send men soon, and to come down himself to see
us off, but he wished to find something to give us as a keepsake. In a
short time he came and had a second breakfast with us (two breakfasts
are nothing to an African!) Then he produced a small tusk of ivory. This
present we could not fail to regard as a token of sincere friendship, and
the only return we could then make was to write out an order for tea,
sugar, and such food as the Chief could not readily procure for himself.

Soon the boat was off, and we were afloat on the beautiful river. What a
pity that such a spot should be the chosen abode of malaria; only a few
yards up the stream were the graves of certain martyrs of the Magomero
Mission. As we passed out of sight there was a waving of hats and hands,
which continued till we could see our friends no longer.

The Chiri here is about 150 yards broad, sometimes more, but it is
not very deep. In many places the boat would touch the bottom and
unskilful boatmen often run aground on sandbanks; but as our men were
well acquainted with this part of the river and kept in the middle of
the strongest currents we went at a delightful speed, the current doing
the greater part of the work. A favourable sail brought us to Maseo’s
about mid-day. I went up to the Chiefs residence and soon found myself
surrounded by all his boys who conducted me to the Chief himself. He is
one of the kindest of the Magololo, and yet the sight of a man lying in
the slave-stick reminded us that even he needs to exercise stringent
jurisdiction. He went back with me to the boat carrying with him a
gazelle’s skin which he asked us to accept that we might remember him in
the distant land of our “home”. (There is a striking pathos and poetry
about many of the expressions of the native.) In return Mrs. Macdonald
gave his children some books and the chief was much interested in hearing
them read. They also wrote out something for us, but this performance
on board an unsteady boat scarcely did justice to the little fellows’
handwriting.

Maseo warned us as we left that if Chiputula had gone to war with
Matekenya we should not try to pass on. Katunga had also touched on this
subject, and now we thought that we had heard the last of it. We reached
Kumbewe, Chiputula’s upper village, in the middle of the afternoon. The
lower village is within sight of this on the opposite side of the river.
We were now told that Chiputula had gone away four days ago to hunt.
This Chief’s large house is an object of interest. It is of fabulous
dimensions. Palm trees enter largely into its construction, and the
rooms are of their height! Chiputula’s sons and wives were very active
in finding fowls and a goat for us: we accepted these presents as we did
not wish to call at more villages for some time. That evening we reached
a spot where we had spent a night on our journey up to Blantyre. A little
incident brought the place to our recollection. One of our party had been
for a long time greatly puzzled at the brightness of the night. He looked
everywhere but could see no trace of the moon. Having been familiar with
the position of the moon in Scotland, he had not thought of looking
directly overhead.

Next day was Sunday but we went on. The African traveller, must sometimes
find a difficulty in deciding how to act on the Lord’s day. With regard
to the Jewish Sabbath the doubts would be fewer perhaps. Now we were far
from any human dwelling, and to remain for a single day on the banks of
the Elephant marsh with the thermometer above 100° would be to invite an
attack of fever. We _might_ be none the worse, it is true, just as the ox
that falls into the pit might sometimes be none the worse of being left
in the pit till Monday morning. Hence although we claimed a fair share
of the Scottish idea as to the strict observance of the Sabbath day, it
seemed to dawn upon us without the severe sanctity that surrounds it in
our native land. As we were quietly moving along, one of our natives
startled us by firing his gun; and very soon it became my turn to break
the sacred stillness of the day by following his example. At this spot
the Chiri is full of islands. We took one side of an island while the
canoe that accompanied us took the other, and had not proceeded far,
before it had the misfortune to disturb some hippopotami. To clear a
passage one of the canoe men fired upon them. Just at this moment we
came down the other channel to find the huge beasts rounding the corner
in their retreat. After the shot they had kept under the water so that
we hardly thought of them. I was standing at the bow of the boat looking
back on the beautiful hills we were leaving, when all of a sudden we
received a shock which made us feel as if our little craft were going
from under us. A hippopotamus had struck it and not satisfied with that,
it seemed determined to come on board. One of our rowers received a
severe wound from its tusks whereupon all the men at that side rushed
over to the other with a violence which threatened to upset us. Again
and again the enraged animal charged, till, finding my gun I fired upon
it, when it ultimately withdrew after making two deep dents on the
steel side of the boat, and leaving the point of one of its tusks beside
me. The men were all much excited, but they were thankful that we were
in deep water else, they said, the hippopotamus would have undoubtedly
come in. They told us that one of the Mazaro men that had come up with
us three years ago had been “cut in two and devoured by a hippopotamus”.
“But,” I remarked, “the hippopotamus does not eat flesh!” “Oh yes,” said
one, “it will devour a man very fast.” “But then,” replied another, “it
has always its companion the crocodile (ngwena) with it.” That day we
were beset with hippopotami at every other turning. In some herds we
counted over 20. They detained us a long time; we had expected to sleep
at the Ruo, but sunset found us considerably short of this, so that we
had to spend another night in the Elephant Marsh.

[Illustration: A VILLAGE OF THE ANYASA ON THE LOWER CHIRI.]

_Monday, July 4._—We started early without waiting to cook any food, as
we intended to breakfast at the Ruo, at Chiputula’s lowest settlement (Ku
Chilomo). On reaching this village we landed, and soon met one of our
Blantyre pupils who paid us special attention. In passing through the
village we saw many signs of mourning, and heard the “wails” rendered in
the same pathetic way as at Blantyre. On returning for breakfast in order
that we might resume our journey without delay, great was our surprise,
on reaching the boat, to find nothing but a scene of confusion. No
cooking had been attempted, and our boatmen were removing all their goods
as if they meant to desert us. What could be the matter?

“We cannot go any farther,” they said. “There is war! Matekenya will kill
us all without any reason!”

I expostulated with them for a long time. At first I could not even
entertain the idea of turning back. Katunga’s men agreed with me, but
Maseo’s strongly opposed, and pointed out that their chief had told them
not to proceed if Chiputula had gone to fight with Matekenya. I now
learned that Chiputula had gone away not for hunting but for war. Still I
did everything in my power to prevail upon the boatmen to proceed. I went
to hurry them with their cooking, and to divert their minds as much as
possible. Still, after talking with them a good while, I began to be less
confident. They had much to say. “Why,” I asked, “should you be afraid
to go down with an Englishman?” “They replied that they were specially
afraid to go with an Englishman. Matekenya’s headmen blamed the English
for giving the Magololo guns and powder.

“But not the Mission people?” “Yes, the Mission people.” Unfortunately,
though all the people more intimately associated with Blantyre were
innocent in this matter, there was too good foundation for the charge.
The deputation that visited us had thoughtlessly begun to present guns.
The natives said, “Had not a stout man seen at Blantyre given Makukani a
gun?” I also found that the inhabitants of this village were trying to
dissuade the men from proceeding. When I was present with the boatmen
those villagers protested that there was “nothing—nothing to fear”. But
when I was not by, they said there was everything to fear. Indeed, they
had terrified the boatmen so much that at one time I was on the verge
of despair. I feared that none of the rowers would enter the boat again.
They had got the idea that Matekenya’s men would make an attack on the
boat even if we went back the way we came. Their plan was to run away and
leave us to our fate, while they escaped to their homes by land. This
would have been a terrible calamity for such a party as we were, for some
of us must have perished through the hardships that would have ensued.
But the over-ruling Providence which had shielded us hitherto did not
now forsake us. After a long time of intense suspense we were relieved
to see the men enter the boat again, and turn her bow up the river. On
considering all the particulars we saw they had some cause for alarm.
Chiputula had destroyed several villages of the enemy, and had a number
of prisoners here, while several men of this very village were already
known to have fallen in battle.

But the idea of a return journey was dismal enough. Our boat, being laden
for going down the stream, would give much trouble. We had descended in
two days, but we should require six or eight days to go up. Mr. Rowley
tells how Dr. Livingstone and the Magomero party took twenty-four days
to accomplish the journey that we had now before us. We had been able to
buy several fowls. Fortunately, we did not now know that our supply was
rather scanty, else we might have had more anxiety. That night we stayed
in the place where we had slept the previous night. Rain came on and
drenched us thoroughly.

_Tuesday, July 5_, was a wet day, and we made but slow progress. At
night there was again a very heavy shower, of which we had the full
benefit. Wednesday was a repetition of Tuesday in every particular. This
morning I was quite ill. A traveller often finds it very trying to watch
the native boatmen lazily doing their work. They make such a mess of it
that one cannot look on without disappointment and irritation. The best
preventive of such feelings is to lay hold of a pole or a paddle and
engage in assisting the men. This I was quite unable to do to-day. A
soaking in bed does not fit one for physical exertion under a tropical
sun. But one refuge was open still. We had brought some newspapers with
us, and these were all acceptable now, no matter what their date might
be. When, however, I could not read, I was obliged to be a spectator
of the boatmen, but I tried to observe their work as a piece of mere
curiosity and to forget that we had any interest in it. The defect in
this Anyasa crew was that they had not learned to concentrate their
energy in an emergency. The poor fellows expended much more force than
would have been necessary had they employed it well. The Mazaro lads are
much better boatmen, but since the arrival of the Missions many of the
Anyasa have made trips to Mazaro, and now know all about the journey.

On his engagement each man gets a fathom of cloth (value 5d. in
Scotland, and 9d. here) to buy food, and meet the ordinary expenses
of the voyage. The first thing he does with this money is to buy a
bed, which is just a bag made of strips of mlasa woven together like a
straw hat. At night the owner, and one or more friends crawl into this
bag, which is placed near a fire on the bank. Once in they are very
comfortable, the mosquitoes cannot touch them, and in this climate they
cannot suffer from cold. As soon as morning dawns the boatmen may be
seen emerging one by one from their sacks. But they are in no hurry to
make a start. There are generally a few logs smouldering in what had
been the fire-place last night. Round these they gather, and put on a
few handfuls of grass, and seem preparing to—watch the course of events.
Happy for the traveller if he has decided that the boat must start at
once, for the slightest semblance of cooking risks at least an hour’s
detention. But many travellers believe that a hot cup of coffee keeps off
fever, and stay a few minutes to boil water. The natives themselves in
ordinary circumstances do not eat at this hour; all they do is to pass
round a large pipe, of which each man takes a whiff, and desires nothing
more. But when water has to be boiled, everyone takes advantage of the
occasion. The traveller’s captain or interpreter, or whatever he may
be termed, will be the first to entertain the idea of prolonging “the
boiling of the water” till a great deal of other cooking can be done.
The traveller, if a stranger, must depend much on his “captain”; and the
latter distinguishes himself by shouting to the others to “make haste”.
But although he bawls at the top of his voice, they sit quite unmoved
by the terrible earnestness of this functionary. The traveller is much
puzzled! On such occasions he finds it instructive to watch the position
of affairs on the bank. It then appears that all the delay arises from
the gallant captain himself, who is quietly cooking some dainty for
his own personal use, while the rest of the crew listen calmly to his
terrible threatenings, knowing that they are all “kindly meant”.

After the “water has been boiled” to the satisfaction of everybody, the
captain’s awful voice is again heard, and now words of mutual exhortation
pass round. One man lays hold of the anchor, while the rest stand in an
attitude of respectful attention! Only after the anchor has been put
into the boat does it occur to the others to pick up their beds, and,
one by one, each carries his own property with his own hands, and with
his own hands deposits it in the boat! Occasionally one man that happens
to be in the boat already, will receive a companion’s consignment, but
oftener this companion is allowed to enter and deposit his goods without
any help, while the man who is already in the boat goes to the bank
to fetch his own property. This is not because they wish to disoblige
each other. But they see no reason why anything should be done quickly,
and consequently they undervalue every method that savours of haste.
Livingstone well speaks of this country as “that blissful land where time
is of no importance”. The language of a great part of their actions is,
“Why should we do to-day what may as well be done tomorrow?”

After all are in the boat one man pushes it off with his pole—the others
meanwhile watching the operation. As soon as the boat is clear of the
bank, the current begins to carry it back over last day’s track; when
it occurs to them to get their paddles. One man who had left his paddle
at the other side of the boat calls for it; another begins to search;
while the rest await the result with the most exemplary patience. By and
by, another boatman finds that the paddle he has is not the one that he
used last day, and a great search is instituted by his companions, who
are duly waited for. The poor traveller will now ask whether the captain
is going down to Mazaro, and this question produces the desired effect,
for the captain begins to charge all and sundry in accents of thunder.
But though the paddles are all plied with the utmost strength, little
progress is made against the rapid current. The great hope of the boatmen
is to keep close to the bank; if reeds grow there, they can pull the
boat along by laying hold of them; or, if the bank is clear, they can
land and draw the boat by means of a long rope. Another thing that helps
them is the shallow water. There they make wonderful speed. They have
long poles which reach the bottom of the river, and propel the boat very
effectively; the boat becomes a kind of land animal and may be described
as walking along on these legs. Such walks along the sandbanks are by
far our happiest times. The only drawback is that they will come to an
end; and what will the end be? Sometimes we find ourselves in places
so shallow that the boat touches the bottom. While we were coming down
stream this was the cause of much delay, the force of the current having
often carried the boat far along the sandbank before we could stop; and
then we stuck fast for a long time. But now that the current is against
us, we never get so much involved. Yet we become fixed again and again,
and the boatmen all get out (notwithstanding the risk of crocodiles) to
drag and push till we find deeper water. By and by, the water is too
deep for the poles to touch the bottom, and the men debate which bank
to make for. Much time is wasted in the discussion. But after their
resolution is formed, something like determination is seen in their faces
as they make for the bank of their choice. They ply their little paddles
with all their might. On our first journey up, the crew were equipped
with oars, but these had been taken away during the war between the
Natives and the Portuguese, and the paddles which have taken their place
are not nearly so powerful implements. Still the men now use them with
a will—there is no doubt as to their earnestness now. They advance very
well, and soon reach the very centre of the current. “Now pull, pull,
pull with all your might, pull as for your very lives! there!” The man
who was wounded by the hippopotamus is at the helm, because he is too ill
to be anywhere else. Of course he has never been at a helm before. The
critical moment has come, “Oh, turn the head of the boat right against
the stream! Quick! Quick!” The poor fellow has to consider which movement
of the rudder will do this; but in the midst of the terrible crisis, his
presence of mind is gone, he turns the wrong way, the boat wheels right
round and shoots down the stream swift as an arrow. A sad disappointment
this, but we must try again. Fortunately the sandbank that we had left
intercepts our downward course. If the disappointment affected the
traveller only, very likely no great effort would be made, but it is
getting towards sunset, and the men must reach the bank to cook their
supper. “Try again, my boys!” The little paddles are set in motion with
a terrible swiftness. The great captain himself has come to the rescue.
Once more they approach the same critical spot. “Now, then, all your
might!” but their previous exertions have weakened them—just as they feel
the full force of the opposing current, their energies flag. The captain
flies to his snuff box for a stimulant, all the others press round him to
share it. But, alas! the stimulant is a few seconds too late, the height
of the contest had come, and has now gone. The boat is completely beaten,
and makes her way, stern first, down the river.

This last trial illustrates what we often see among the natives. A vast
attempt is made, much strength is expended, and just at the nick of time
the whole result is nullified through utter childishness.[12]

Now for a third attempt. Meanwhile the sail had been dangling about. It
was believed to be unlucky, and as it did no good, it was taken down. A
third effort is now to be made. Our second trial had given us a little
hope, for after our defeat the current had brought us very near the bank
at one point in our downward journey. The method to be followed now is
to go up a little farther, and then trust that the current will bring
us a few yards nearer that spot. A drizzling rain and the approach of
darkness make our position more unpleasant. Another hard pull brings us
once more to the point where we had been twice before. Now they feel that
it is quite hopeless to work against the current, but they expect to
keep so near the bank as to be able to lay hold of the reeds while the
current carries us down. It is a moment of great suspense. The current is
stronger than the men, and is decidedly carrying us down again, but they
have come much nearer the bank and are quite confident that at yonder
point where the bank juts out they will catch hold of the reeds, or will
be able at the very least to reach something with their poles.

If the traveller be able to stand, he is certain to be standing now and
watching with the greatest anxiety, but see! the men are already able to
touch the bank with their poles! One has done so, but alas! his thrust
is ill timed, and the boat swings right round till its head is again
looking towards Mazaro. Oh! this is dreadful, is that foolish poke at the
bank to undo all our efforts? It looks as if it would, and the boat is
going at a terrible speed; but in a few minutes the doubt is solved, and
the prow of the boat runs full tilt against the bank just at the little
promontory that we are trusting to. The effect is quite magical. Everyone
knows what happens if, while he is riding at full speed, his horse stops
without giving the slightest warning. So it was here. The boat was
brought to a dead stand before the passengers had time to acquiesce in
the arrangement. The crew were jostled against each other at a terrible
rate: some spread themselves out at full length along the sides of the
boat while others narrowly escaped a ducking in the river. But the great
study was the white man. All the natives like to see how the Englishman
behaves in an emergency. This personage is standing on a narrow platform
a few inches higher than the rest, and just at the most interesting
point in the collision, he is observed, apparently quite regardless of
consequences, to make a desperate dive headforemost into the bottom of
the boat, his head coming into contact with a pile of plates and pots
that had been stowed away there. From this adventure he returns with his
face cut and bleeding, but he ought to have remembered his “mechanics”
more promptly. Still the situation was much better than being carried
down the stream again. The boatmen after their success held on by the
reeds and pulled the boat along the side of the bank with all their
might, and in a short time we were above the dreaded current.

Poor fellows, how much work they might have spared themselves by a little
method! I began to speculate on how different our situation would have
been if our boat had been manned by Scotch fishermen: but I remembered
that the sun which shone so pleasantly all day on these negroes might
have been too much for my countrymen.

At last we are to stay for the night. We must try to find a clear space
where the natives will have room to light a fire and arrange their beds.
Besides, the clearer a place is, the fewer are the mosquitoes. There
is difficulty in finding a spot in the Elephant marsh even with these
slender qualifications. To-night, moreover, everything is wet. But the
natives, in cases where cooking is required, can soon work wonders. One
of them lands, exclaiming, “I am like a monkey—without a knife, without
a fire”. In his story of the Magomero Mission, Mr. Rowley tells us that
this place was destitute of firewood, and we find it so still. But the
native gets hold of a knife with which he cuts down a few of the tall
reeds, and in a short time there is a blazing fire, and the cooking goes
on in excellent style. The party then dry their beds and their clothes,
and keep talking till midnight.

The roar of the lion is occasionally heard, and the hippopotami are
quite close—snorting and splashing. Since our adventure on Sunday their
presence has always caused some remark, and now we are specially warned
that it is dangerous to keep a light burning in the boat in case they
should charge us again.

On _Thursday_ the rains have cleared off, and a special effort is to be
made to reach the palm trees. We saw them before us yesterday, and had
hoped to reach them. The Missionaries of Magomero had this “immense grove
before them for several days”. On reaching them we shall have firewood,
but for the present the men pick up any stray piece of wood that they
see and carefully put it in the boat. We stop at noon, and then the
crew have breakfast. This consists of porridge and a “relish,” which
may be ground nuts, beans or a piece of flesh or fish. Their method of
eating would strike a new comer as being very unrefined, but when we
remember that the use of knives and forks (especially of the latter)
is quite an innovation, we can easily excuse the manners of the native.
Besides, he does not at once acknowledge the superiority of the European
methods. As soon as the porridge is produced, all the boatmen wash their
hands very slightly, and then fall upon the “mess” with their fingers.
Each man helps himself to a large handful of porridge. This he gives
an affectionate squeeze for the purpose of adapting part of it to the
size of his mouth, and then the business proceeds. One hand is occupied
with the relish, while the other supplies the porridge and makes it into
proper morsels. When the large dish is emptied they all lick their hands,
and one man whirls his finger round the inside of the plate and takes
off all the porridge that remains. They next wipe their hands on their
loin cloth (their only garment) or on the grass; and then these simple
children of nature have finished their repast.

On coming to islands we sometimes have great difficulty in deciding which
channel to take. We often try one where the heavy boat will not pass at
all, and to our great disappointment we have to go back. Our boatmen
bathe very frequently, using a charred stick as a flesh brush. They
have no tooth brush, but they rub their teeth very carefully with their
fingers.

The appearance of herds of hippopotami[13] always causes much excitement.
The Mission boat has done good service for five years, but it is hardly
seaworthy now, and a well directed knock would at once admit the water.
Accordingly, we pass these animals in great suspense. Towards sunset we
are just approaching the palm trees (mivumu), and our hearts are full
of thankfulness; only I have to record a report that I heard yesterday
forenoon. It was so painful that I did not set it down at the time, and
I have been reasoning ever since that it is likely false. It is to the
effect that a white man has been killed by men of Matekenya’s. This
young man reached the Ruo on Saturday night, being just a day’s journey
before ourselves. He was told that Chiputula had gone to make war, and
was advised to proceed with the greatest haste so as to pass Matekenya’s
country before hostilities had actually commenced. He went on during
night, but on Sunday afternoon, they say, he was attacked and massacred
along with all his crew. The report was brought by Chiputula’s fighting
men, who passed along the bank. They said they had been told this by
prisoners. Our crew profess to believe it as it somewhat excuses them for
turning back.

_Friday 8._—We start from the palm trees. A dense vapour rises off the
river, as if its waters were beginning to boil. The sun is up for some
time before we can see it on account of the fog. To-night we reach a
village. Here there is great mourning for people slain in war. The
headman tells us that many of Chiputula’s men are dead. He points out
some of the neighbouring villages, and enumerates how many inhabitants
are mourned for in each.

Here nothing can be bought, which is unfortunate, as our provisions are
now nearly exhausted, and we may take three days to reach another hamlet.
Our men seem to take pleasure in teasing the villagers about their
poverty. They ask “Have you fowls”?—“_Pabe_,” “Have you maize”?—“_Pabe_,”
&c., &c. To dozens of such questions the answer was Pabe (There is not).
This made us all laugh, and I asked one of the boatmen why the villagers
would sell nothing. He explained that they had not very much after all,
as they lived by fishing. Down here fish are found in abundance, but
higher up the river they become less plentiful, and at Katunga’s there
are hardly any.

_Saturday 9._—The men are in good spirits. We expect to reach Chiputula’s
upper village, Kumbewe, at noon. In this we are disappointed. We meet
a strong current which baffles all our efforts, and carries us back a
long distance. Late in the afternoon Kumbewe is reached. We land and
look at the pleasant village. Meeting with Mrs. Chiputula, or rather
Mrs. Chiputula number one, we are taken round the harem where the chiefs
other wives are sitting in scores. We are shown his garden which is full
of pine apples. The boys’ house is a large circular building without any
walls, and supported by wooden pillars. Towards the outside the boys’
beds are suspended all round. In the centre there is a fireplace near
which are scattered cooking utensils of various sorts. More than forty
of the chief’s wives tell us that they are going to visit the boat with
a present for “little Kapeni”—as they called one of the white children.
This was a formidable matter. When the last party passed down an English
lady was reported to have been terribly frightened by a visit from Mrs.
Chiputula. On the present occasion about forty volumes of Mrs. Chiputula
contended for the privilege of entering our boat: but their kindness
and good feeling was unmistakeable. The natives are fond of bringing
us honey, but as the bees feed on the eucalyptus, much of the honey is
believed to be poisonous.

_Sunday[14] 10._—We again much missed the quietness of the Scottish
Sabbath. In the forenoon we reached Katunga’s lower villages. All these
chiefs have their important villages near islands to which they can
flee in case of danger. We had to ask Katunga for men to take us up
to Blantyre. We also saw Maseo, who promised to send us carriers. We
learned that we had been all mourned for as dead. To-night we reached our
destination. This day three years before, we had also come to the end of
our river journey, and it was the same day—the 10th of July—twenty years
ago, that the Magomero Missionaries had reached the same spot.

_Monday 11._—We have much anxiety about getting carriers. It seems
impossible to get as many as we want. Some are enrolled and sent away
with such loads as must go up with us again, but what gives us most
concern is to find no men for palanquins. The danger from fever makes us
anxious. What a relief we experience when we see Maseo himself coming
up with twenty carriers! In a little after, about as many of Katunga’s
men come direct from the chief himself, who has thoughtfully sent his
palanquin with them. Maseo with his own hands makes another palanquin
of one of our blankets, and we are soon able to start off. Our thoughts
revert to the 11th of July three years ago. We marvelled at the great
contrast! How much we felt at home among the natives now!

In the afternoon we reached Mbami. The first to come to salute us was
the little girl that had wished to accompany me. Our men were lazy,
and wanted to stay here for the night. I have always found the Anyasa
carriers from the Lower river inferior to the Yao. Perhaps it is because
the Magololo rule them as slaves.

We reached Blantyre at eight o’clock. The beautiful moon had lighted up
our way for us with as kindly an eye as it had done three years ago,
and we found the children had got out of bed and were meeting us before
we had well passed the stream. We were very glad after our hardships to
sleep for the night on the floor of our old dining room.




CHAPTER XVI.

CONCLUSION.


The day after our arrival I rested, as my limbs were aching after the
long march. Next day I was able to return to school. The daily meeting
for the natives had ceased, but I had no difficulty in resuming it.
Kapeni’s children had all left, and on Saturday I went to visit them.
I met Kapeni himself on the way to see me, and walked back with him.
His boys promised to return to school, but I found afterwards that this
was merely the promise of politeness. They asked whether I was to leave
them now, and I replied that if I could get down before the rains, I
would go, otherwise I should have to wait till the rains were over. ‘And
then you would go?’ ‘Yes.’ Malunga was another man whose children I had
long desired to have. Just as I was leaving, he regretted my departure,
because he ‘was going to send them all’. Now I was come back, here was
a test for his sincerity. Still he had his excuse, too. Ever since the
Magomero people left them, the natives have been inclined to look upon
the ‘English’ as mere birds of passage. Katunga’s boys came up, but
although Maseo had promised in like manner, his were not sent.

Kumpama came and took his leave on the Saturday following—a day when I
was free to escort him to the boundary of his own territory. As we passed
Ndilande I noticed a great change. The people that were living on the
plains about a month ago, had gone up the mountain from fear of Chikumbu.
We missed the welcomes that used to greet us in this quarter. We passed
village after village and found them all deserted. On our way back we
climbed the mountain and saw the people in their new abodes. They said
that if Chikumbu molested them farther they would all go to Blantyre.

About the beginning of August Chikumbu attacked the carriers of the
Trading Company and captured some goods. We saw another instance of the
difficulty of sending messengers in such cases. According to Kapeni,
any neutral party would at once make himself the enemy of Chikumbu by
carrying a message to him regarding the robbery, because Chikumbu would
naturally wish to guard against the slightest appearance of treachery.

The slave question began to revive again. For nearly two years it had
been practically laid aside, no slaves had been received and no master
thought of claiming the persons that had formerly received protection.
But many masters had recently come in and stated that when I went home,
they would ask their slaves back. I turned the matter off with a joke,
but I found that soon after my departure some Magololo had given much
trouble about slaves. One lad that had been at school for three years,
and was able to act as a teacher, was demanded by Makukani. This poor
fellow had been for a long time saving a great part of his wages to give
this greedy chief.

The slave trade is by no means defunct, as many poor Africans know
to their cost. Human beings are still hunted as legitimate game, and
great numbers of slave caravans still leave the interior. Powder is a
great assistance in carrying on this terrible traffic. Fortunately the
Portuguese restrict its importation at Quilimane, but they allow it to
be imported at Chisanga, and many slaves are disposed of at the latter
place, from which Mukukani quite recently brought up nine kegs of powder
and fifteen new guns.

[Illustration: A DANGEROUS HIPPOPOTAMUS.]

Mr. Henderson set out towards the coast to see whether communication
could be restored. Bismark went to guide him. The latter considered that
he would be in danger, and wrote out his will—which was sent back to
Mrs. Macdonald. However, he returned safe, although sad at heart, that
his young girl refused to go to England with him. She had been quite
frightened by the dangers of the way. The hippopotami and the threatened
war proved too much for her nerves, and she was afraid to try the journey
to England again. Besides we had been now so long delayed, that we should
not arrive till winter, and the doctor judged that the cold would be
dangerous for Bismark himself.

On the 23rd of August we were enabled to leave Blantyre the second
time. Mr. Moir, of the Trading Company, had come up the river with a
Mazaro crew, and there was no longer any doubt about getting men for the
journey. The Mazaro men were anxious to get home again. Not only so,
but Mr. Moir engaged a number of Yao men to go down to assist in work
at Mazaro. We were soon on the river once more. The first day’s sail
brought us beside the celebrated grove of palm trees. Next day (Thursday
25th), tempting herds of buck were seen, and we had several opportunities
of firing upon them. When there is a crowd of hungry natives, it is a
great boon to get hold of a buck. One should shoot at these animals with
explosive bullets. In the ordinary method severe wounds are inflicted,
but the creatures get away to suffer considerably. A large herd of Zebras
was also seen—they are swift as the wind.

Soon after starting in the afternoon we had an adventure. The other boats
had all passed on before us. The last one, with Mrs. Macdonald and the
children, was just disappearing at a bend of the river. We were going
nicely along, when I saw a hippopotamus coming towards us. I took up a
rifle and had him ‘covered,’ but as he seemed peaceful I gave him the
benefit of the doubt; and he disappeared again. After we had sailed down
a little farther the boat got a blow that seemed to raise it out of the
water. We were agreed that ‘Now that fellow must get a lesson,’ and we
seized our rifles. But water soon rushed into the boat at such a rate as
to direct our attention to another matter. I laid hold of a bucket and
began to bale, but I found the task hopeless and urged the boatmen to
pull hard. We were in the very middle of the stream, and the situation
was most critical. It was really a question of life or death. We had
always held a theory that if a hole were knocked in the boat we could
stuff it, but theories are often difficult to practice. Before we could
have reached the bottom of the boat, through all the bags and boxes,
the necessity for stuffing the hole would have passed away. The natives
rowed but feebly. They lose their heads in an emergency. It looked as
if we were to sink on the spot. Mr. Moir at this crisis seized an oar
and rowed with the strength of any four of them. I was told off to the
helm; the baling being of no use. The boat rapidly filled with water—it
was questionable whether we could reach the bank before it sank. The
river here was very deep. One of the canoes saw our position and made
towards us. However, we reached the bank just as the boat sunk. All the
cargo was under the water and had to be fetched out. After the accident
we held a short council. One was to stay with the boat and the other to
go and obtain assistance from the rest of the party. Ultimately I went
in a small canoe, but notwithstanding hard rowing I could not overtake
the others. Sometimes the canoe found itself among herds of hippopotami,
whose presence made me somewhat uncomfortable after the last encounter.
Santos has the following account of these animals:—“The head of the
hippopotamus is three times the size of our ordinary horse, and its body
thick in proportion. What is extraordinary in this species of animal
is their practice of destroying each other for food, whence it rarely
happens that two are found together.” How much I could have wished on
the present occasion to be able to confirm the last part of the Reverend
Father’s remarks! But I found scores of them, all regarding my frail bark
at the same time, so that they must have laid aside this inhuman practice
of the 16th century!

[Illustration: HIPPOPOTAMI AT HOME.]

The above incident was my third experience of a hippopotamus attack,
and I believe that such attacks are made partly through fright. On each
occasion a boat or a small canoe had passed immediately before and while
the hippopotamus was trying to get away from the first vessel, the second
was upon it before it was aware. Driven to desperation, and confiding in
its great strength, ‘leviathan’ then charged with all its might.

I found the first party at the Ruo (encamping beside the village where we
had to turn back on our former journey) and told Mr. Moir’s carpenter of
the necessity for his services. But it would have taken a whole day to
row against the current up to the scene of the disaster. Some natives
however were sent off. The rest of us stayed for the night. Chiputula
the chief was here himself. A sickening smell pervaded the village. An
elephant had been killed and long strips of flesh were hanging on the
trees. Chiputula has a war canoe capable of containing 40 soldiers which
he put at my disposal as I wanted to visit Bishop Mackenzie’s grave.

Next morning Mr. Moir appeared with the boat, which bore sad traces of
the prowess of the hippopotamus. The chief gave him a basin of elephant
fat which was of great use in effecting a temporary repair.

This afternoon we reached the territory of the dreaded Matekenya. His
poor people had been driven far down by Chiputula, and villages that were
flourishing when we came up were now deserted. The natives soon descried
our approach, and some shouted at us to stop, but we saw no reason to
listen to them. Soon there arose a great stir on the bank, and a rush was
made as if to meet us farther down. About five o’clock we were warned
that they would kill us, but threats of this kind were nothing new and we
pressed on. To shew the least sign of alarm in such circumstances would
have been a serious experiment. But the critical moment soon arrived. The
natives stood in a mass with a considerable shew of guns and ordered us
to come at once to the side. We were now within range of their muskets
and some of our party as they afterwards confessed did not feel at all
comfortable. Fortunately they did not understand all that was said else
they would have been much worse. I stood up in the boat and asked ‘Why
do you want us to stop? Have you anything to sell?’ The last remark was
received with a grim smile but a smile all the same, and I felt that
the danger was past. I then leapt out of the boat and began to talk to
them. I explained that ‘I was not Anyasa at all, but Yao’. I was soon
recognised as the ‘chief of Bulantaya’ (Blantyre) and they opened their
hearts to me over the hardship they had suffered from Chiputula. They
said that since we settled at Blantyre, Chiputula had let the Yao alone.
‘Why do the English not come down and stay to protect _us_ also? We would
be your children[15]!’ Their great anxiety was to see Mr. Moir who, I
told them, had been treating with their enemy. Mr. Moir had been detained
by his boat, and was left in close conversation with Chiputula whom he
was warning against interfering with Matekenya lest he should bring the
Portuguese against himself. The incorrigible chieftain replied that
while he was afraid of the English, he did not care for the Portuguese,
as he had often fought with their forces near Senna.

When Mr. Moir arrived he made an appointment to meet Matekenya on Sunday
at a village a day’s journey farther on. Matekenya rules his subjects
with a rod of iron so that with Chiputula’s wars on the one hand, and a
fearfully despotic government on the other, they are much to be pitied.
We found them interesting people. They had never seen white children
before, and the two babies were objects of much wonder. When we reached
Morumbala marsh we found innumerable flocks of wild fowl. They fell as
fast as we could fire and were very acceptable both to ourselves and to
the natives.

[Illustration: HALTING FOR THE NIGHT ON THE RIVER BANK.]

By Monday forenoon we reached the confines of civilization once more
and met a French trader who shewed us great kindness. We were now under
the shadow of misty Morumbala. We passed the night at Shamo, the abode
of Ferrao who sometimes kept Dr. Livingstone from starving amidst the
various accidents and incidents of his wanderings. According to native
custom the house of the deceased gentleman had been taken down (40.)
But as we wandered through the village we met an old servant of Ferrao
who volunteered to shew us the spirit (Mulungu) of his master for a
present of calico. A Portuguese merchant now occupies the place and sells
umbrellas, cups, cloth, and rum for the ground nuts of the natives.

On Tuesday morning we went off quite early wishing to reach Mazaro. For
the last week Mrs. Macdonald with the nurse and two children had been
confined in a corner of an open boat where they had scarcely room to
turn. When one remembers the intense heat of these days and nights, he
will understand why we wished to press on. Soon we were on the broad
Zambeze and within a district where the natives have been in contact with
Europeans for nearly 400 years. If the Portuguese had only established
schools and taught the natives to read, a great change would have been
effected. But since the recall of the Jesuits, the Portuguese have not
tried to christianize the natives, many of them believing that the
negroes are not susceptible of improvement. Here most of the native
huts are two storeys because of the floods in the rainy season. We were
anxious to visit Shupanga house, but the boatmen were too afraid of the
Zulus. As we were talking with reverence of Mrs. Livingstone, one of our
party pointed towards her grave and said “Ah! they know all about it—ask
what they say”. I remarked that unless we knew what Livingstone had been
called by the natives in this district there was little chance of finding
an answer without a long explanation. However my companion shouted to
one of them, “Livingstone! Livingstone!” and pointed towards the house.
At first the boatman was puzzled, he thought it was an order. But when
the word was repeated he was bound to believe that it conveyed some
information and he said ‘Yes!’ The great Doctor himself warns against the
danger of receiving an African’s statement with confidence. He points
out that the native has no conception that the truth or falsehood of his
answer can be of the least importance, and just tells a stranger what
he thinks will best please him. But another danger is that persons are
apt to mistake for information what was never so intended. A learned
gentleman sees a lizard and asks its name: the native replies ‘Kaya’
which means ‘I don’t know’. Down goes Kaya in the note-book as ‘the name
of a green lizard!’ If an English traveller may ask near the birth-place
of the author of Paradise Lost ‘where Milton was born,’ and be told by a
countryman that a woman of that name once lived in the district, we need
not blame an African for not knowing the name of Livingstone which is
unpronounceable by him, and which he likely never heard (46.)

We stuck repeatedly on sandbanks, and could not reach Mazaro this night.
We slept on the opposite side of the river. On this bank our boatmen do
not feel secure: they are not entirely out of the reach of a Zulu tribe
which gives great trouble here, and levies blackmail on the Portuguese
themselves. We thought of going over the bank and pretending to be Zulus,
but when we observed that our natives had their flint locks lying in
readiness we did not care to carry out the idea. There are hippopotami
here, and one came very close, but they are few in number, as the natives
harpoon them. On Wednesday morning we started a little after five, and
reached Mazaro early. We had a few days to wait here before we could
get ready for the Quilimane part of the journey. All my time since
leaving Blantyre had been devoted to the revisal of my vocabularies, but
after this point the Yao-speaking natives were left behind. Here we met
Mwanasa, a girl who had lived for two years with Mrs. Macdonald. She
would have willingly come to England to learn more, but we feared she
would be lonely. When at Blantyre she had learned to read and write in
her own language.

When we were at Mazaro a letter was read from the Zanzibar consul, which
had been addressed to one of the Livingstonia employés. Certain chiefs on
Lake Nyassa had been making themselves notorious in connection with the
slave trade, and the consul asked the man whether he could not clear out
one of these slavers. We believe it must often be felt by those on the
coast that they could cope with the evils of slavery much better if they
had an agency in the interior.

Saturday evening found us on the Kwagwa. Here our journey was, if
possible, more uncomfortable than before. There was only one boat:
and Mrs. Macdonald with the nurse and family had just room to stow
themselves away under the little grass awning that had been thrown over
it. My bed was placed in the steerage! Hitherto, throughout the whole
journey on the Chiri and Zambeze, we had been obliged to sleep in the
boats and under mosquito curtains. At Mazaro we had occupied a house; but
this means that the plague of rats is added to the plague of heat and
mosquitoes.

The lad that was our pilot here had been at Blantyre for a few months,
and he showed us great attention. We always pressed on during night.
One can go down the Kwagwa at a beautiful rate. As soon as the terrible
sun was set I made a point of getting hold of a pole, when we had great
amusement in endeavouring to race with the light canoes. I thus secured
a few hours’ exercise, which is one of the best antidotes to fever in
this pestilential district. On Monday the 5th we passed Mugurumbe, and
reached a sleeping place about one o’clock next morning. The vegetation
is so dense that one cannot land on the bank just where he chooses. There
are but few places so clear that we could light a fire, and of these many
are found already occupied by numbers of other travellers. But when one
party arrives certain of the others will often make a fresh start. Night
and day are much the same to the travellers on this river. Our sleeping
station of Tuesday morning became a scene of confusion. When our boat
reached it a score of natives began to appeal to me on civil matters. I
was inclined to smile at the situation. Some people that ought to have
known better had taken me for a civil magistrate before, and now I am
to be pressed into that service again! All explanations were useless.
“Master, here—a boy has been stabbed!” The knife with which the wound had
been inflicted is thrust into my hands, while our men pointed out that it
had been bent in the rencontre.

[Illustration: THE KWAGWA.]

I felt as sick of the matter as an English jury when shut in to give a
decision. I said I was suffering from want of sleep, but what was want of
sleep to them! Native patience is sometimes great, and native eloquence
long. The “Governor of Quilimane” was an expression that I tried to
conjure with, but without effect, and in the end I had to beseech them
to defer the matter, and it was only after I promised to listen to them
next day that I obtained this concession. Next morning as soon as I awoke
the palaver began, and to my astonishment an old Portuguese came out of
one of the sack-beds, and requested my interference. He was the “other
party” in the transaction. He had landed here the previous night, and as
he slept in a mat on the bank, some natives stole most of his clothing
and some of his goods. A little after, he found another native (not
the actual thief) prowling about, and put his knife into him. The old
man was now determined not to go away until his property was restored.
I told him that the thief was not one of my boatmen, neither was the
other unfortunate lad, and that I was merely a traveller and could not
interfere. It was a strange spectacle, the two white men unable to speak
to each other except through the medium of two black interpreters! As
I explained my position to my brother European he looked at his own
interpreter, and they agreed that my interpreter was against them, and
was not translating properly. He knew “that the governor of Quilimane
was far away,” but if I could show these natives that I did not support
them in stealing, it would help a poor traveller, and do no one any harm!
Perhaps the poor fellow thought that I must be some Englishman that had a
grudge against the Portuguese. I soon condemned the theft, and succeeded
in getting the bent knife returned to him. I think that his antagonists
hinted that I was going to carry it off to use as a witness against him
in Quilimane! In a short time his goods were also restored. Now he was
delivered from anxiety, and I soon saw that he could expound native law
to them. “You must pay me for this theft and annoyance.” They replied,
“You must pay us for the boy”. His answer was that the boy was of the
same fraternity, and had to expect what he got. We left them before they
had finished, but from the bold manner of the traveller it is likely that
he got damages. Only the matter was hardly worth insisting on unless he
had frequent occasion to pass that way.

After a short repose of three or four hours we made an easy start on
Tuesday morning. Antani was my philosopher, and pointed out rivers that
were said to be associated with the slave trade. He had expected me to be
more in favour of the black man this morning, and therefore recounted the
hardships of the poor slaves:—

“They are taken down here in slave sticks. If a woman have a child on her
back she is put in the slave stick too. One piece of cloth (16 yds., say
4s.) is the price of a man: two pieces is the price of a woman. A woman
costs more because she will be the mother of other people. If she have
a child in her arms she fetches half a piece more. If the master cannot
sell his slave he takes him back again, and cheats him by saying I did
not want to sell you. I only took you down to frighten you that you might
respect me more.”

He promised to tell me if he saw any with the Yao tatoo. He found none
except those that had been bought by the Portuguese long ago: the new
ones, he insisted, were kept in distant plantations.

Though told several times this morning to fill every bottle with water,
Antani was very remiss in doing so, as he could not see the reason. In
the forenoon he sat in the bow of the boat looking at the river, which
was gradually becoming broader. We asked him to taste the water now. The
other natives, although not in the secret, understood the joke at once,
and one handed him a dish. They waited to see if this lad, fresh from
the mountains of the interior, could be so green after all! He dipped
over the side of the boat, and proceeded to drink the water with as great
confidence as he had done throughout our journey. “Ah! salt, salt,” he
cried, and began to spit, while his companions enjoyed a boisterous laugh
at his expense.

This evening a great wind rose, and our tiny boat had to put back into a
sheltered corner. We expected the breeze would allow us to sleep; but it
was soon calm and hot. The mosquitoes did not give much trouble, but the
sand flies came through our curtains and rendered our position wretched
in the extreme. Seldom have we passed a more miserable night. Yet we
could not fail to appreciate one beautiful episode. A canoe passed us
playing a sansa (I. 272), while certain voices attempted to sing with the
instrument. Every note was distinctly heard in the midnight stillness,
and the canoe-men made the grand old woods resound with the melody. We
listened with great fondness till the strains of their rude music died
away in the distance. About twelve o’clock at night we asked the boys
whether they could not push off the boat, but after a fruitless endeavour
to move it along the sand, we had to make up our minds to endure the
situation longer. It was about two A.M. before the tide reached us, and
then they promptly released us from our sufferings. As soon as the tide
turned the boys all went to sleep again, and we glided smoothly along.
But before reaching Quilimane we had to face big waves. We arrived at
mid-day. It was fifteen days since we had left Blantyre.

We enjoyed the welcome and cordial hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Nunes.
They had nearly been killed by the same journey, and could sympathise
with us. Our oldest boy’s face was one large blister owing to mosquito
bites, and he and Mrs. Macdonald suffered much from fever. We had to wait
a few days for the steamer. Antani often walked with me, and made his own
observations on men and manners. We would meet a Portuguese boy going to
school with a negro behind him carrying his books and cigars! Antani said
that the Portuguese “drove the native children out of school lest they
should by and by know as much as white men”. One day a man passed wearing
a tall silk hat. When at Blantyre, we had great difficulty in explaining
the pictures in the _Graphic_ and _London News_ on account of the
_dreadful head-dress_ of the European. Here we were fortunate in finding
an actual specimen. Antani gazed with wonder, and promised to report, on
his return to the interior that these strange hats were a reality after
all!

Once I took a long solitary walk into the country to see whether I could
meet with slaves that had been brought from our district. I saw several
Anyasa and Walolo tatoos. After marching till I was tired I sat down at
a village to rest. Here I found a lad that could speak Chinyasa. As we
talked he stumbled on a characteristic Yao word, and this led to his
finding for me two people that had come from the Blantyre district long
ago. They were charmed with an opportunity of speaking their mother
tongue, which they had not used for many years, but which they said
they would never forget. As a group gathered round they took a pride
in shewing their Quilimane companions that they could converse with a
European in an unknown language. But they were far behind in the history
of their country, and were taking for granted the existence of chiefs
and headmen that had long been gathered to their fathers. I could not
but think of the touching picture that Homer gives of Helen looking from
the Trojan wall and trying to see Castor and Pollux, not knowing that
the grave “already possessed them in their dear native land”. I could
perceive that one especially looked back fondly to olden days, while
his breast filled with thoughts of the friends of his youth. ‘Perhaps
his mother was yet alive.’ ‘Had his brothers and sisters gone into
slavery like himself, or would they still send a thought after him as
they lingered about the scenes of bygone days?’ He could not tell. He had
formed new ties now, and was quite happy, enjoying under the Portuguese
a security that he could not have found beside his own mountains. Still,
in spite of the treatment he had received in his native land, there was
a poetry about the past that prompted a ‘lingering look behind’. He
made an errand to Quilimane in order to accompany me back. His use of
his native tongue was considerably ‘generalized’ by some twenty years’
disuse. He would often hesitate for a word and employ general terms where
his countrymen would have given the special one. He complained of the sun
“killing” the corn: the time was when he would have said “scorching”. We
passed a Portuguese churchyard where each tombstone was ornamented with
a large cross, but he said he had no idea what was the meaning of the
symbol.

Many Portuguese think that the natives are worse off since the abolition
of slavery. Formerly, masters were at great pains to give their slaves
personal comforts and ornaments, which they do not think of giving now,
because “the negro might make off with the gift next day”. Wages is but
little motive to work in a land where there is no difficulty in getting
the necessaries of life. But under the Portuguese the natives may store
up property to an extent that would be dangerous in the interior. There
the possession of wealth makes a man’s life worth taking.

Strangers severely criticise the native for want of foresight. A critic
says:—“He ought to cultivate a few more feet of ground, as a time of
scarcity might come.” But it is the very foresight of the native that
prevents him from taking such a step. It is his critic that lacks
discrimination and not he. His critic applies to him calculations that
may be presumed upon, under a civilised government. The native, on the
contrary, is familiar with the real situation. I once asked a schoolboy,
“Will you keep a cow when you become a man?” His reply was “As if I had
three lives!” Nothing could better express the secret. If a man had food
in a time of famine, when all the others had not, his position would not
be an enviable one. Unless in the immediate neighbourhood of the Mission,
few had goods laid up except chiefs, but if security were guaranteed,
native avarice and ambition would take this direction.

Natives see that they could make many improvements, but they count the
cost. Bishop Steere says:—“There are no roads in this part of Africa, no
carriages and no beasts of burden, only a narrow footpath, so overgrown
sometimes that one wonders the men who pass along do not clear it, until
one remembers that the very last thing an African wishes, is to have an
easy road to his village. If he could persuade himself that the next
comer was likely to turn back and think that there was no road, he would
sleep much more securely.” We were once walking along a native path with
a person just come into the country, and were amused to notice how his
taste was offended by small branches that were lying on the path. He
carefully laid them aside with his staff, under the belief that he was
teaching the natives a lesson, and conferring on them a permanent benefit!

In Quilimane where natives enjoy European protection, they make advances
in material improvement. But it is the lowest class of native that is
found there. When masters in the interior sell slaves, they first dispose
of the worst characters. Hence the settler on the coast forms a harsh
view of the black man. In short he begins to despair of the native, and
the native in his turn may despair of him! A Portuguese gentleman told
me the following anecdote, which I mention in illustration. A chief
from Mlanje frequently went to Quilimane, and a certain Portuguese lady
used to treat this native king with much deference. But one day she had
a young lad with her, and as they sat together, Matapwiri came up and
squatted beside the young Portuguese gentleman. The latter resented this,
and promptly gave Matapwiri a blow. The lady interposed, ‘But this is the
great Matapwiri—there will be a quarrel if—’ ‘I don’t care who he is. A
native shan’t come and sit down by me that way!’ Nothing could better
shew the light in which the European settler often regards the negro.
But some natives here show a desire for advancement. One chief left his
son as a slave in Quilimane for several years. After the boy had been
initiated into civilized life he disappeared at once, no one knew how or
where: but he is said now to occupy an important position in his native
land. His father had seen the importance of civilization and employed
this stratagem to educate his son. There are traits of character to be
met with, even among the lowest natives, that remind us of the words:—

    “Deem our nation brutes no longer,
      Till some reason ye shall find,
    Worthier of regard and stronger,
      Than the colour of our kind.
    Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings
      Tarnish all your boasted powers,
    Prove that you have human feelings,
      Ere you proudly question ours.”

Quilimane, like all other places which we might think beyond the reach
of history has its incidents too. One day we found the whole population
in a state of great consternation owing to a report that Tete had been
attacked, and that its Portuguese inhabitants were in danger of being
massacred. All these Portuguese stations on the Zambeze are usually well
protected by soldiers, but the garrison had been temporarily absent and
now news had come that the natives had risen against the townsmen. The
keeping of standing armies here is a hard task. Some of the soldiers are
half-castes and they as a rule are more troublesome than pure natives. We
lodged near the barracks and the commander used to send to the English
lady to apologise for having to flog his soldiers near her window.

At Quilimane there was a functionary appointed to dispense floggings, and
when a slave or servant offended, the custom was to send him to this man
with a slip of paper which stated how much punishment the culprit was to
receive!

One point where the Portuguese differ very much from us, is in their
estimate of Livingstone, whose life they criticise with the greatest
severity, their remarks almost reminding one of the hard things that old
Roman Catholic writers used to state regarding Luther. When at Blantyre,
we used to get the Magololo headmen to talk about their late master, and
they certainly recounted many exploits that were quite new to us, only
before being influenced by their statements we had to remember that these
men would speak what they thought would please us best, and when they
discovered that we looked on Livingstone as a hero, they would mention a
great many things that agreed better with their own ideal of a hero than
with ours.

When the steamer at length arrived, Antani came on board with us and went
over the whole of it, promising to tell his friends, on his return, of
the wonders of the ‘large boat,’ and so we parted.

At Zanzibar as I looked down from the side of the steamer on the native
boats, I was hailed in the Yao language. I replied in the same, and a
spirited conversation began. The young man that accosted me was not a
Yao but a Makua, only he had been in the Yao district. He soon collected
his friends, and they were in great glee over an Msungu who could
speak in the languages of the interior. Natives are here much freer in
conversing with the European than in Quilimane, where the Portuguese make
them keep a respectful distance. They told their friends in the town
about us, and as we passed along the streets we met some that could say
‘achimwene’ and who gave us a cordial greeting. At Zanzibar we saw Dr.
Steere’s Mission, which was a very cheering sight. At Blantyre we were
often sustained, and much more than sustained, by the thought of what
we looked forward to as the infallible result of some ten years’ honest
work. Here we saw the result of twenty years’ work and it could not fail
to be gratifying to one that considered the subject. Dr. Steere says to
those that would estimate Missionary difficulties, ‘You must pause for a
while and find yourselves, as we did, standing opposite five boys with
scarce any clothing, in dreadful fear of something far worse than slavery
or death, and we unable to make them understand one word’. Such is the
commencement. By and by he can write, “We have no longer to begin with an
English reading card because we have nothing else. We have reduced the
Swahili to writing and found out its grammatical rules.”

When I passed Zanzibar the Swahili Bible was fast approaching its
completion! We ask any one to reflect what great labour this implies.
If we lived in times when Church censures took a tangible form, and if
any man were ordered to write out the whole of the Bible in his own
language before he could be restored to the Church, the sentence would be
equivalent to excommunication for life. Most men would be too discouraged
to attempt the task amidst other work, and the various interruptions
that they might count on. But the Missionary has to write the Bible
in a FOREIGN language amidst much pressure of other work, and many
interruptions that no man is subjected to amidst European civilization,
and if a single or even a _twofold_ copying of his material be
sufficient, the circumstance would say a great deal more for his present
peace of mind than for the permanent value of his work. All the time he
is translating he is obliged to keep up the closest intercourse with the
natives, ever learning from them, and ever teaching them, introducing
reading books, founding schools, forming friendships and consecrating
these friendships by imparting views of life that go beyond the seen and
temporary. Besides having stations on Zanzibar, Bishop Steere[16] has
been carrying his work far into the interior of the Dark Continent.

The interior is in some respects the more promising field. There are
many highland sites where the European can work with all his might. He
can study hard, and personally engage in teaching without suffering in
health, whereas the climate is so enervating in stations on the coast
and fever is so prevalent that few constitutions can do more than keep
this enemy at bay. Again in large places where an artificial civilization
shews itself, the Missionary takes his position not merely as a man, but
as a civilized man, and this makes a breach between him and his dark
friend, which the latter feels very much. I have sometimes been sitting
in conversation with an old headman when another European would join us.
Then the English language was spoken, and our native friend would say
with sadness that he “did not know English,” and he would sit in silence
evidently regretting that his white friend was not so near him after
all. This is only an illustration of peculiar disadvantages which are
greatly done away with in the wilds of the Interior. All this, it may
be said, is counterbalanced by the fact that in the interior there are
constant wars. Such difficulties however will gradually pass away as the
evangelistic work is quietly carried on, and most of them may be met by
the simple plan of carefully placing a Mission station in the disturbed
district. The one great obstacle in the interior is the difficulty of
communication, and the want of all appliances from books downwards.

Beyond Zanzibar, the next place where we see anything of the African
is at Aden, where we meet specimens of the Samali in a few active boys
with dyed hair, who crowd round the steamer to dive for coins. There
happened to be a Samali boy on board our steamer, as also a Makua.
Owing to quarantine laws their masters could not land, and a number of
pilgrims for Mecca had to be brought on to London. The mention of London
had a dispiriting effect upon the Asiatics. They were certain the cold
would kill them, and went about weeping—not weeping like a European—the
poor fellows actually “lifted up their voice and wept”. Withal their
misfortune made them more demonstrative in their devotions. Some of
the passengers evinced a strong disposition to laugh at this, others
maintained that few Christians would be so exemplary in calling upon
their God. We should be able to get some good out of everything, and
we have often admired the regularity with which as the moment arrived,
they turned their faces towards Mecca and knelt down to pray. One feature
in the Christian is that when on a journey, although he meet other
Christians, he wishes to worship by himself. Thus he avoids the dreaded
charge of hypocrisy, but there is something that should be dreaded on
the other side. He may begin to forget that his religion is something
that ought not to be selfishly shut up in his own bosom. The forms of
Mahommedanism seem to draw its worshippers together. But alas! they
appeared to derive but little comfort from their earnest supplications.
They always had a sadness about them. After a long residence among
natives that kept sorrow no longer than sorrow kept them, this struck
me as the manifestation of a new temperament. The only man that could
be cheerful was the Makua servant, who was known as the “big grinning
nigger”. The grief of the others threatened to make them unmanageable.
But the hopefulness of this representative of the Lake Region, might well
make us hopeful for his race, and we have no doubt that the time is fast
approaching when these African tribes will be “made glad according to the
days in which they have seen evil”!

We gazed wistfully as the great continent was within sight for the last
time. On one side we had Gibraltar brightly lighted up, and suggesting
so much historical interest. But on the other side there was a solitary
lighthouse that touched a deeper chord in our hearts as it flashed a
farewell from the Dark Continent. There rose before our minds all the
hopeful days we had spent in that land of promise, while to our lips came
the line which we ventured thus to misquote:—

“Moritur, et moriens dulces reminiscitur Afros.”


END OF VOL. II.




APPENDIX.

AFRICAN FOLK LORE.




APPENDIX TO VOL. II.

NATIVE TALES.

    “Children’s Tales now, but not the invention of a child’s
    intellect.”—BISHOP CALLAWAY.


The time has now come when Folk Lore is considered valuable for its own
sake. It is hoped, too, that these simple African Tales will throw some
light on the native mind. But it must be remembered that when rendered
by a native reciter they have a character which no translation can
reproduce; moreover, tales that appear quite pointless to a European,
will make an old native laugh till tears run down his cheeks.

Originally, some of these Tales may have been an account of actions that
really happened, and which floated down the stream of time long after the
agents had sunk in oblivion. Then as now, the name of each native was
significant, and as these actions kept afloat they drew to themselves
appropriate names. If the action was clever, it was attributed to a Mr.
Rabbit (who corresponds to the Fox of European tales): while every hero
remarkable for gluttony—a trait of character likely to be noted in those
primitive days—is a Mr. Hyæna (who corresponds to the Wolf of our Western
tales).

As might be expected there is a great difference between African Folk
Lore and European. After seeing African habitations, we scarcely expect
to be told of a damsel “shut up in a tower” or “peering into a forbidden
room,” and after meeting natives in their ordinary costume, we should
be surprised to find Tales of “beautiful dresses and slippers of gold”.
Again, in African Legends we seldom encounter statements like the
following which meet us almost everywhere in Grimm’s Fairy Tales:—“A poor
peasant was so destitute that he did not possess a foot of land”. “It
was with difficulty they could maintain themselves, at length matters
became worse, they had no longer even bread to eat.” “A poor man had
twelve children, and was obliged to work day and night to obtain even
bread for them.” “What will become of us? How can we feed these poor
children when we have nothing for ourselves?” Except in days of famine
sad pictures like these would have no meaning for the African. But at
the same time there are pleasant pictures in the European Tales that
the African cannot appreciate. Rarely does the Bard of Central Africa
go into raptures over a “handsome virgin” or a “maiden of rare beauty”.
He knows nothing of such a personage. But this is not the fault of the
negro woman. The enormous ring in the upper lip and the deep tatoos that
mark her face, chest, and arms shew how desirous she is to please and to
attract attention. Yet, although she carries small stones in her mouth
to improve her speech (which has no defect like that of Demosthenes), she
does not induce any poet to sing that “her voice is low and sweet”. She
certainly does not merit all this neglect, and it is chiefly on account
of African marriage customs that it falls upon her.

It will be perceived that the style of these stories is very primitive
compared with English. The sentence, “He proposed to go back, and on
arriving at his home he gave meat to the nurse, and asked after his
children,” would in the mouth of the African become:—He said, “Let us go
back” (and they replied, “Very well, let us go”). Then they set out to go
back. When they arrived at the village he (stood on the path and) called
and said, “Nurse”. The latter said, “Yes, I am here”. Then he said, “Take
this meat”. He said also, “Now, are the children all well,” and the nurse
said, “Yes, all are well”. So when our pupils wrote on Scripture subjects
they did not hesitate to attribute to speakers a conversation which was
not recorded. For instance, if the third verse of Genesis had really
been, “And God created light,” they would have rendered it, “And God
said, Let there be light, and there was light”. We often felt that their
peculiarity might illustrate questions about the Verbal Inspiration of
the Scriptures.

These tales have been selected and literally translated from my
Manuscript Collection of Tales, Songs, Enigmas and Itagu. Number 54 was
communicated by Mr. John Buchanan, F.L.S.


31. THE DEAD CHIEF AND HIS YOUNGER BROTHER.

There was a chief that built his village large, and he had many women,
and he had a younger brother who did not come to his chief. The chief
became ill and died, his brother was left, and went to inherit the title
(97). Then arose a great war in order to capture those women. The (new)
village chief had tied up bundles of beans. And the people that wanted
war came and sat in the forum, and he hid himself and peered at them as
they sat there. Then he said, “These people are many, I will consult the
chief at the grave” (14). So he went and clapped[17] his hands and told
the chief who was dead. The latter said, “It is long since you visited me
when I was alive, what is the matter now?” He replied, “Alas! O chief,
I have seen enemies, yea, many are at the village (here), and I said,
‘I will go to ask of the chief’”. The latter said, “Go and salute these
people”. Then he went to salute them, and the people that wanted war,
said, “In this land many plants have yielded fruit which are tied in
bundles”. So they said to themselves, “He (the chief) is a very wise[18]
man, and knows about a relish stored in bundles”.

They returned, and went home and met the king of their own home, who
was called Manjelele, and said, “O king, you are very stupid. That man
is exceedingly wise”. He said, “Nonsense—go away again, capture in war
all the women and bring them”. Then the army went back and caught all the
women. The chief himself also ran away, and again he went to the grave
and said (to his dead brother), “Chief, I have come on account of my
women, they are all carried off by war”. Then his brother gave him four
small bags, and said, “Well, follow the army to their village”: and he
added, “Should you find a large tree unloose one little bag”. So he took
them, and he found the large tree put in his way, and he opened, and a
wood-moth came forth and entered the tree and gnawed, and a passage was
made, and the chief passed through with his attendant. Again he followed
on in the track of the army, and he found that a stone had been put
in his way farther on, and he opened another bag and there came out a
manis (mbawe) and dug under the stone; and he passed through with his
attendant. Again he followed the tracks of the army, and beyond that he
found the river, which the army had passed in a boat. Then he opened (the
third bag), and there came forth a spider and went to the other side,
and he crossed with his attendant and arrived at the village whence the
war had come, and he sat down at the road to the village to wait till
darkness came on. As soon as it was dark, he opened the other bag also,
and a rat set off for that village and went to a basket, and it slept
there. By and by the king that had begun the war came to sleep, and on
going to sleep he took away his eyes[19] and put in the basket, and the
rat took the king’s eyes. At dawn he called his men, and said, “Let all
assemble with their captives that I may see them”. The men assembled, and
said, “Now, tell the king to come and see his prisoners”.

The king came and took a chair to sit on, and called for his eyes,
saying, “Fetch my eyes from the basket,” and they looked in the basket
and found that his eyes were not there. The king cried, saying, “What
shall I see my prisoners with?” The other chief stood across the stream
and said, “Let me go back with my people. I also have captured in war, I
followed you. The eyes of the king I have carried off.”

And the king cried, saying, “My men, give up his people”. Then his men
said to him, “We told you, O king, that we must not go yonder to capture
in war. Lo! the people will return without being seen with your eyes,”
and they restored all the people. Then the chief at the grave said, “I
told you to follow the army. Lo! all the people have returned.”


32. THE CHIEF THAT HOED AT THE GRAVES.

There was a woman that had a little child, and she hoed a garden at
the graves, and there came a little man from the graves—little Amlele.
The woman wished to hoe, and she loosed the child, and made the stump
of a tree bear him (tied him to a tree). Then rose Amlele and said “To
make the stump bear him rather than a person’s side!” and he took care
of the child and carried him to the graves. Then she hoed till she was
tired. And she said, “Now I will call for my child,” and she called for
him, saying, “Amlele, give me my child”. And he gave him to the mother
herself. Then she went to the village, but did not tell that she hoed at
the graves and that there was a spirit nursing her child.

When she went on the morrow to hoe, she saw that little Amlele was come
again; again he began to call for the child. Again he went with him to
the graves, and cut open his skin and put him in the sand (beside the
water). And the woman hoed and was tired again, and she called Amlele
without success—he did not bring back the child again.

And she went to call those at the village, saying, “My son was carried
away to the graves by one that did not come back with him”. Then the
people ran and went to the graves there, and they found him put down in
the sand, and they cleaned off the sand, and returned from the graves
to the village, mourning. And they went away to the oracle of the
Humble-bee,[20] and he spoke with a low voice, and said, “But the chief
is the man that wants to destroy us out of the country”.

All the people ran away because of witchcraft. The oracle has caught the
chief of the village, because he hoed at the graves and bewitched his
child in order that Amlele should eat it (106).

The chief said, “Now I am left alone. I will make friendship with
the guinea-fowl,” and he did so. And he said, “Go away, pick up many
_masukus_ and their stones, and sleep in a plain without trees”. It
picked for him ten baskets, and he said, “Sow everywhere,” and it sowed
in the whole plain. He himself slept in the middle of the plain. Next day
he awoke and found many houses, the _masukus_ had become men.

Then he brewed beer, saying, “Now, I have found another village”. And
he called the guinea-fowl, saying, “Friend, come now, there are many
people”. And they went together (the guinea-fowl and Simwe[21]) to drink
beer. And it said, “But do you, my friend, leave off speaking evil, lest
the people be startled at you”.

Then they drank beer, and Simwe became drunk, and said, “I am the chief,
these are my own people, I picked up ten baskets of _masukus_, I sowed in
the plain, and the _masukus_ became men”. Then his friend ran away from
him, saying, “His words are bad, he cannot stay with people”. So he slept
again, and he awoke—his people were not, because (said they) he takes us
for _masukus_[22]: so he was alone. Then he clothed himself with the
skin of a civet (?) (ngwime) (a creature which sleeps on an ant-hill),
and whenever he saw a person he called him, saying, “You there! come
near,” and the person ran away. When the person ran away, he said, “I am
bad. I cannot stay with my fellow men.” Then he went away journeying in
the great bush. He asked for a village, and the _tolo_ (a small mole)
responded and said, “Come to my home and dwell there. I have built a
stone house.” So he accompanied (the _tolo_); let the man look at its
house! it is not good! its door is the heads of cockroaches! And he said,
“Ay! you deceiver of me: I enter a small hole!” And Simwe said, “I will
bring the _nyingalwe_ against you”. And he brought against him his friend
(the nyingalwe), who said, “You are a great liar—a rascal—a deceiver of
the chief, saying to him, ‘Come let us enter a stone house,’ which was
just a little hole, but may you never thrive”.

But the _tolo_ cursed the nyingalwe, saying, “But may you never cross
the road except you die,” and the nyingalwe crossed the road and died.
[As the natives believe strongly in charms we need not wonder that they
invoke a sorcerer to curse their enemies, in the same way as did Balak
the son of Zippor.]


33. THE FOX AND THE HYENA.

The hyena made friendship; two days after, he set out, and he said, “But
let an attendant go with me”. They said, “Let him go with the mbendu,”
(a creature with little spots like the njusi[23]).

They were going along the road and the hyena said, “If we meet with women
washing grains of millet, you will ask for water, and I shall ask for
millet!” As they went on they met the women washing the millet and the
mbendu said, “Give me water,” while the hyena said, “Give me millet”. The
women took millet in a plate to give the hyena, and they give the mbendu
water in a cup.

The latter said, “Come let us wash it that it may become soft,” but the
hyena refused and said, “Why did you not beg your own for yourself?” and
he chewed it alone[24] without giving to his attendant.

Farther on he began to tell him again saying, “If we meet with the women
cutting sugar cane, you will beg the leaves, I shall beg the canes, we
shall tie them up”. They went forward and met with the women cutting
sugar cane. The hyena said, “Give me the canes,” the mbendu said, “Give
me the leaves”. They cut four canes and gave the hyena, and they took
leaves and gave the mbendu. The mbendu said, “Let us tie them”. The hyena
was fierce and said, “Ah! for whom?” and did not give him.

And they went beyond that and came to another place and found a lake,
and he said, “The village we go to is there. If we have porridge cooked
for us and tie it up in a leaf,[25] then if you hear at the lake
lino-lino-lino-lino-lino you ought to run away and throw down the leaf of
porridge.”

Farther on the hyena said, “This is medicine, if we get porridge, you
will come to dig it”.

He went on and arrived at the village of his friend, and the latter said,
“My friend has come,” and he killed fowls, and cooked, and made porridge,
and said, “Let us give the strangers,” and porridge was put down:
when the hyena began, “Bring that medicine that we may eat it to the
porridge”. The mbendu went off running. After that the hyena cut leaves
to set down everywhere and he ate up all the porridge. When the mbendu
returned, he said, “There came a great party, look at the leaves (which
were used as plates) here sat some, here sat others, here sat others”.

The hyena said, “Let us go home to-morrow”. The mbendu said, “Yes, let
us go;” the mbendu was starving. Next day there was porridge cooked for
them, and he said, “Tie it all up, tie it in leaves”. The mbendu tied up
the porridge and carried it. On the way the hyena said, “I will pass this
way, let us meet farther on”. The mbendu kept going just on the path,
the hyena went to the pool and dived, and put out his mouth, and said,
“Lino-lino-lino-lino-lino!” The mbendu was afraid, and threw the leaf
with the porridge into the lake. The hyena took it out and went to devour
it.

When he came farther on he met with the mbendu who had nothing to carry.
He asked him saying, “You have thrown away that leaf? Quite right! you
were wise, the wild beast would have bitten you.” When they reached their
home the villagers said, “You are thin, mbendu, you are thin!” He said,
“Umph! hunger”.

They staid five days at home. The hyena said, “I will go to my friend’s
again. Who shall I go with to-day?” Then the Mbendu refused, and he said,
“Come, fox,[26] let us go together”. The fox said, “Yes, chief, come”. So
they went together.

When arrived at the road, the hyena gave instructions, “You, fox, if we
meet with women—you will beg water, I shall beg grain”. They came to the
women. The hyena said, “Give me grain”. The fox said, “Give me grain and
the water also”. The hyena took grain, and it was given him on a plate,
the fox also took grain, and it was given him in his hands, and water
also in a cup. The hyena said, “Give the hyena that water”. The fox said,
“Why did you not beg your own?” Then the fox refused to give him.

Further on the hyena said, “Now this pool is dreadful”. The fox asked,
“Why is it dreadful?” The hyæna said, “If one carry porridge, a wild
beast is dreadful”. The fox said, “How does it say when roaring?” The
hyæna said, “It says Lino-lino-lino-lino”. The fox said, “Ay!” The hyena
said, “If you carry a leaf with porridge you should throw it down”. He
said, “Yes”. They advanced and came farther on, and he said, “This is
medicine, if porridge is cooked at the village you will come to dig it”.
But the fox left his arrow, he went farther on, and said, “Master, I have
forgotten that arrow”. He said, “Where?” He said, “Where you showed me
the medicine there”. He said, “Fetch it”. The Fox went running and came
to the medicine, where he had left his arrow, and he dug and put the
medicine in his bag, and returned. And he said, “Have you picked it (your
arrow) up?” He said, “Yes, I have”. And he said, “Well, let us go on”.

They went on and arrived. The hyena’s friend said, “My friend has come.
Kill a fowl for him.” They killed a fowl for him, and cooked porridge
too, and came with it and set it down. The hyena then began saying, “Go
and seek that medicine”. But the fox took the medicine out of his bag and
said, “Master, this is that medicine”. Then was the hyena very fierce,
and said, “You, fox, are clever at evil!” The hyena refused his porridge,
saying, “You go on eating”. So the fox ate.

The hyena said, “Let us go away to-morrow”. In the evening a fowl was
killed, that they might eat it with their porridge. Next day porridge was
cooked and the fowl also and was given. He said, “Fox, tie it up”. The
fox then tied it, and went along the road. The hyæna said, “Go on before
me, I will go this way, and we shall meet in front”. Then the hyena went
stealthily, and arrived in front, and let himself down into the pool, and
dived and put out his mouth wide open, and said, “Lino-lino-lino-lino”.
The fox said, “Ah! there’s the wild beast”. The fox sat down and took his
knife and commenced to cut the bark-cords (which tied the leaves), and
he took a stone, then he unloosed the porridge, and ate and finished it,
entirely eating it up, reserving only a mouthful, which he plastered on
the stone, and threw it into the mouth at the pool, and the hyena died.
The fox then ran and cut off his head, and made a little drum and covered
it with the hyena’s skin: then he went along the road, and met women
digging beans (njama). The fox beat his drum, saying, “Ti, ti, war”. The
women fled,[27] the fox picked up the baskets and went home.

At the village they said, “Where did you leave the hyena?” And he said,
“We left them brewing beer for him”. They found that it was indeed a
stay, the hyena never returned.


35. TAMING MONKEYS AND BUCK.

There was a man that tamed monkeys, while another tamed buck, and they
became friends. The owner of the monkeys said, “Come to my home, you will
see monkeys”. Then he went to his home and found they had gone out. He
said “Friend, where have they gone?” He said, “They have gone to feed”.
He said, “Call them”. He went to call them and they came: and he said,
“These are my monkeys,” and he said, “If I had seen them, I should have
taken them for food”.[28] (The monkeys heard this.) He said, “Friend,
don’t say so, you will make my monkeys run away”. Thereupon the monkeys
did run away. He (the stranger) said, “Come you to my home, you will see
buck that I have tamed”. He went and found the buck, and said, “These
are meat to give me to eat?” The buck ran away to go to the jungle. His
friend said, “You have made my buck run away”. He said, “You come and
answer my accusation, let us go to the forum”. Then the judges came and
asked, “Who began it,” then they decided, “You must just pay each other”.
So they paid each other in beer. They brewed, and invited each other, and
drank, and said, “That case is finished”. Then both were contented. [This
exemplifies a popular method of settling small quarrels.]


36. TAMING DOGS.

There was a land with a man.[29] This man used to go to the moors of
marsh pigs (?). When this man with his dogs was going near a lake,
they started a marsh pig, and it fell into the lake. In the lake was a
crocodile, and the man also went down there, and the crocodile caught
him, without biting him. The dogs kept searching much for their master:
their master was placed in a cavern. Now the dogs in their search
sometimes went to smell the earth, and they scented him. The dogs then
set to dig in the earth there, and they dug three days. On the fourth
they penetrated down, and their master was afraid again when he saw
(light). But soon he said, “These are my dogs”. Let him look out, it is
all light! “Now my dogs have penetrated!” And he came out and went to the
village.

The villagers were mourning, and one child on going round the house met
him and returned again, and said, “Mother, be quiet, don’t cry, I saw my
father”. Its mother said, “You lie, your father was lost long ago”. It
said, “Mother, no, come, let us go to see”.

When she went along with the child she saw him, and said, “Child, you
don’t lie,” and she caught her husband by the arm, saying, “Come to my
house”.

And she said, “Explain where you went”. He said, “I went to the moors, I
was hunting a marsh pig, and it sank in a pond, I also sank there, and my
dogs sought me, I came out, so that you see me here. Had it not been my
dogs, the crocodiles would have eaten me. Dogs are good. People should
keep dogs.” Then many people said, “Yes, yes, yes, let us get dogs. That
man’s dogs saved his life.”

And each one there was buying dogs, each one there was buying dogs. Then
people got many dogs because dogs had dug their master from the cavern.


37. ON OUR HOME (A YAO’S HISTORY OF HIS TRIBE).

Here is not our home. We lived long ago at Mangochi, a large hill like
Zomba. The Walolo lived on the other side of the (river) Lujenda, on the
road to Chisanga. The Walolo were capturing the Machinga to carry them
to Chisanga and exchange them for cloth. The Walolo were brave, and had
many guns. The Machinga dwelt at Mandimbi, and the Walolo made them flee.
So the Machinga came to the country of the Wayao, and the Wayao fled.
We removed from that place, and went along the road, and the Wanyasa
interfered with us, and pierced us with arrows, and we began war, and
took their food from them.

The English lived with the Wanyasa. The Wanyasa said, “Help us,” and
there began war with the English. They all came to Ulumba (Vol. II. 12).
The English read the book and prayed to God. On that day the Wayao fled
in all directions, and they returned and found the Machinga following
behind them. They said, “Why do you turn back?” They said, “Why! we have
encountered white men!” Then the Machinga staid there, without advancing
farther. After this all the Wanyasa fled across the river, and the Wayao
settled in this land.

The Wayao had many fierce chiefs. The Machinga killed one by treachery,
some began to sell their own people and were left alone, their people ran
away from them; another was killed by the Mangoni.

War is an evil, it destroys people, there came famine: after that people
said, “Now let us go and hoe”. They hoed much food.

The Magololo accompanied the English. When the English reached their
boat they left them and said, “Now, be friends, war is bad, so leave it
off, agree with the Wayao”. The Book of God was brought forth and all
assented. The English said, “Now let us go home”. [Livingstone made the
natives swear on the Bible that they would live in peace.]

After this the Mangoni came, they crossed by boat, they came in war. The
Wayao ran to Ndilande. The Wanyasa ran to the islands. They have many
islands. The Machinga ran to Zomba. The Walolo did not run away.

Before those that fled had come down from the mountains, the English came
and settled in this land, and the Mangoni went away. The people came down
from the mountains and farmed again (Vol. II. 25).


38. KALIKALANJE.[30]

There was a woman who had a husband, and they went to hoe in the garden
and the man sneezed, and the woman said, Gwigwigwi.[31] The man asked
her saying, “What do you want?” The woman said, “I want the eggs of
an ostrich”. The man said, “I want water where frogs do not croak”.
They both assented to the bargain. The man went to seek the eggs of an
ostrich, and brought five, and gave them to his wife. The woman went to
seek water where frogs did not croak. She went far, far away and found
water. At that water she met with Namzimu, the owner, who asked, “What
do you want?” The woman replied, “I want water, where frogs croak not”.
Namzimu said, “What do you give in exchange for it”? The woman bargained
with Namzimu saying, “I am with child: when I bear the child I will give
it to you”. Then Namzimu said, “Draw water”. So she drew water, and went
to the village and gave her husband. The husband said, “That is right, my
wife”. After this, Namzimu went to the woman’s, and said, “Give me the
child to eat”. The woman said, “No, the child is not born”. Then Namzimu
went away. There passed three days, and the child was born, and the woman
was roasting[32] castor-oil beans, and the child leapt on the pot-sherd,
and said, “I am Kalikalanje”.

He went from the pot-sherd with his bow and his spear and his four dogs.
Then Namzimu quickly came and said, “Now, give me the child to eat”.
The woman said, “Yes, I will give you him”. So she took Namzimu and hid
him in the grain basket, and took bananas and put above him, and at
night the woman called her son, Kalikalanje, and said, “O please my son,
Kalikalanje, climb up here, and fetch bananas”. Kalikalanje said, “No, I
will climb upon the roof where nothing dances (shakes)”. Then the woman
told Namzimu saying, “Dance on the roof there”; (because the woman wished
to cheat her son). When Namzimu danced, Kalikalanje however stood at the
door and said, “Ho! what’s that dancing there? I don’t want to climb now
on the roof where there is dancing”. Then Kalikalanje ran away, and
Namzimu did not catch him that night.

Next day the woman took Namzimu and went with him to the garden,[33]
and hid him in the grass and said, “Stay you here, this night I send
Kalikalanje to come and burn grass, and you will see (a lad) whose
head is shaved on one side[34] and who wears a black loin cloth. That
is Kalikalanje.” That night the woman shaved Kalikalanje on one side
of the head, and put on him black cloth and sent him to the garden and
said, “Go, burn the grass in the garden”.[35] So Kalikalanje took his
shaving knife and black cloth, and his dogs, and his spear, and called
his companions and said, “Come, to the garden of my mother, to play”.
When they came to the parting of the roads, Kalikalanje told his friends
saying, “Come, let me shave your hair on one side, that we may play
properly”. When he had shaved his companions’ heads, he put on them
pieces of black cloth, and said, “You all—your names are Kalikalanje, and
we shall go to the garden, when we burn grass, everyone is Kalikalanje,
Kalikalanje”. His comrades assented saying, “Very Good!”

They came to the garden and burned the grass, and all of them said,
“Kalikalanje, Kalikalanje, Kalikalanje”. When they came to the large
grass Kalikalanje said, “Let us all come, and burn this grass with fire,
round and round, and let us hold our bows in our hands”.

Quickly Namzimu came out of the grass and Kalikalanje told his comrades
saying, “Come, let us kill him”. So they killed Namzimu with their bows.
Then Kalikalanje returned to the village and met with his mother, and
spoke to her, saying, “Mother, you wanted a wild beast to eat me, now I
kill you”. So Kalikalanje killed his mother.


39. THE MAN AND THE LION.

There was a man that had four dogs for catching meat, and one day the man
was very hungry and he said to his wife, “I go to the bush to kill meat”.
His wife said, “Yes, go and kill meat, my husband”.

The man took his dogs and his spear and went to the bush. As he hunted he
killed five buck.

Suddenly there came a lion and spoke with the man and said,

“Take these buck, give your dogs to eat. When they have eaten you must
eat your dogs, then let me eat you.” The man said “No. I do not want to
give my meat to the dogs”. Whereupon there arose a great quarrel between
the man and the lion. Suddenly there came a rabbit (fox) with his bag,
and found them quarrelling. The rabbit asked them saying, “What are you
quarrelling over?” The man explained to the rabbit the reason of the
quarrelling saying, “We quarrel about meat that I have caught with my
dogs”.

Then the rabbit spoke with the lion saying, “Why do you want to eat your
fellow-creature without a reason against him.” The lion said, “The reason
of it is that this bush is mine, and he has come to kill meat here. Now I
want him to give this meat to his dogs, then his dogs will eat the meat,
then he must eat his dogs, and I shall eat him.” The rabbit said, “Lion
you must not eat your fellow-creature because of his buck. Come here I
shall give you good meat, which is in a pit-fall.” The rabbit had seen
a great pit-fall where a serpent dwelt, and he said to the lion, “Enter
this pit-fall.” When the lion entered, the rabbit called the man and
said, “Come with fire, now he who wanted to eat you has gone into a pit,
now come and let us kill him”. The rabbit and the man lighted a fire at
the pit and killed the lion. After the lion died, the man and the rabbit
entered into a compact of eternal friendship.


40. THE ROASTED SEEDS.

There was an elephant and a rabbit that contracted friendship. They
agreed saying, “Let us go and hoe our gardens;” so they hoed. Then the
rabbit said, “But let us plant roasted seeds”. The rabbit cheated the
elephant, and the elephant assented saying, “Yes, we shall roast them,”
so he roasted. But the rabbit hid some of his seeds, then he roasted
a few and said, “Come let us plant,” and the elephant planted roasted
seeds, but the rabbit planted seeds that were not roasted, and ate his
roasted seeds.

The rain came; the seeds of the rabbit grew, but those of the elephant
did not grow, and he asked the rabbit, “Well, when will my seed grow?”
And the rabbit said, “Wait, they will grow”. In the garden of the rabbit
many pumpkins bare fruit, and the elephant said, “My friend has deceived
me”. Then the elephant went to the garden of the rabbit at night to steal
the rabbit’s pumpkins.

In the morning the rabbit said, “I wonder who has stolen my pumpkins”.
The elephant said, “I do not know”. The rabbit made a drum and went
secretly to his garden, and entered a large pumpkin[36] with his drum.
At night the elephant went and ate pumpkins. Next day the rabbit was in
the stomach of the elephant, and he beat his drum; he beat and said, “You
were finishing my pumpkins, I have caught you myself”. Then the elephant
was very ill and died.

People came and said, “Meat has died for us here,” and they opened the
body and said, “Look at this pumpkin!” Others said, “Split it,” and they
split it,—it broke—they found the rabbit. The rabbit on seeing people,
ran away. And the people said, “Yes! this is what killed the elephant. No
wonder the elephant died!”


41. ROMBAO.

There was a man who had a wife and he took his fish trap and went to the
water to catch fish, and he caught a large one. The fish said to the man,
“Go inside me, and you will find a knife and a bundle of millet, fetch
them and come here with them”. So the man went inside the fish and found
a knife and a bundle of millet, and he fetched them and came out with
them. The fish said, “Cut off my upper lip,” and the man cut it off.

Then the fish said, “Take that meat, give it to your wife that she may
eat it alone, while you eat the millet”.

So he went to the village. He found his wife and gave her the meat
saying, “My wife eat this meat alone. When you have eaten throw the bones
of it out there.” The man went to put the millet in the lake, when it
became soft he went and ate it alone, for five days, and his wife ate the
fish five days!

After this the woman bare two children with their two dogs, and two
spears, and two guns, and their names were the one Rombao, and the other
Antonyo.[37] Then they went to the bush and found many birds and many
buck, and they began to fire their guns, and the buck ran to one place
and the children followed them. On their following there they met the
owner, and he asked them saying, “What do you want?” They said, “We
want meat”. The owner said, “What do you give me, and I shall give you
my meat?” They replied, “We will not give you anything, but come let us
fight, and whoever dies, the meat belongs to him that killed him”. They
began to fight and the owner of the meat died, and they took the land and
built houses and settled there.

One day Rombao talked with his brother, and said, “You stay here, I
go yonder to kill meat”. Then he met with a whale. He wanted to drink,
and the whale said, “Why should you drink my water?” Rombao said, “I am
thirsty”. The whale said, “Pay me a price for my water”. He refused, and
said, “Come, let us fight”. Then they began to fight, and the whale died,
and Rombao cut off his tongue and put salt on it.

Now at that land there was a celebrated chief, the owner of the country,
and he gave up his own daughter to buy water from the whale. The whale
was dead, and three days passed without the wind coming as a token (that
the girl had been eaten). So the chief sent his captain and his soldiers,
and said, “Go and see whether the whale has come to eat my child”. The
captain went with his soldiers to see the whale, and came to where it was
and found it dead.

Then the captain said to the soldiers, “Come let us fire guns for two
days, and go to the village and tell that it was I that killed the whale.
Then the chief will give me his daughter to wed, and I will pay you with
much goods.” They said, “Yes, what he says is good”. So they fired guns
for two days, and went back to the village with the girl and found the
chief, and said, “The captain has killed the whale”. The chief said to
him, “Very well, I will give you my daughter to wed”.

When the marriage day came Rombao sent his younger brother, saying,
“Go and see the wedding”. He returned, and said, “The marriage feast
is ready”. Then Rombao went to the village of the chief and found the
people all assembled. The girl was speechless, and her mother asked her,
“Do you wish that captain to marry you”. The girl did not answer, but
continued weeping. Her father said, “But you will marry that captain”.
Rombao asked, “Why is the captain going to marry her?” They said,
“Because he has killed the whale”. Rombao said, “But where’s the tongue
of the whale?” All the people said, “Yes, we want to see its tongue”. So
the captain sent his soldiers to bring its tongue, and they went to look
for the tongue and found that the tongue was wanting. So they returned,
and said, “The whale has not a tongue—it is rotten”. Rombao said, “That’s
false, that captain did not kill the whale—it was I. Wait now, I will go
and fetch its tongue.” He returned with the tongue to the chief. Then the
chief said, “Very well, do you take my daughter to be your wife”. Then
the chief took much goods and gave Rombao. Then he killed that captain
and his men likewise.


42. THE HYENA AND THE BEES.

A hyena and a fox went a journey; they found honey (lit. bees) on a tree,
but at the foot of the tree were the cubs (lit. children) of the fox. The
hyena said, “Give me my bag,” and he got it; and the fox climbed the tree
to fetch the honey. Then the hyena took the children of the fox, saying,
“he would shew them to his brethren,” and he put them in his bag. But
the fox quickly observed that the hyena took her children, and the fox
took much honey (lit. bees) and came down with it. Then the hyena ate the
honey, but the fox said, “Give me the bag to carry for you”. The hyena
said, “Take it”. So the fox took the hyena’s bag. Then the fox said, “I
have forgotten my knife”. The hyena said, “Go and fetch it”. The fox went
back to the foot of the tree, and took out her cubs. Then she took many
living bees,[38] and put in the hyena’s bag, and went back to the hyena
himself. Then the hyena said, “Have you found your knife?” The fox said,
“Yes, I have found it”. But the hyena did not know that she had taken
her children out of his bag. Then they came to the village, and he said,
“Give me my bag. Good-bye. Now we have reached my village.” The fox gave
it him.

The hyena then went to his brethren, and said, “Have you ever seen the
children of a fox?” His brethren said, “No”. The hyena said, “There are
in my bag here!” His brethren said, “Give it us that we may see them”.
The hyena said, “No, we must be in the house”. So they went into the
house and shut the door, and then undid the bag. Then his brethren said,
“So these are the children of a fox? Are they not bees?” They were stung.
The hyena’s brethren roared terribly, and the fox heard their roaring,
and came to the door, and said, “What’s the matter?” The hyena’s brethren
said, “The hyena has deceived us, saying ‘Come and see a fox’s children’.
We said, ‘No’”. The fox said, “Oh, hyena, you took my children, did you?
I put living bees in your bag. You knew it not. Now they sting (lit.
bite) you!” So the hyena and his brethren died.[39]


43. THE CROCODILE.

There was a man that lived by setting traps, and he set his trap on a
meadow by a stream and caught meat. Then came a crocodile and took out
(untied) his meat and ate it, and went home. Next morning the owner of
the trap found that his meat had been eaten. Then was he sad at heart,
and said, “Who is this that has eaten my meat?” He set his trap again and
went back to the village. And meat[40] came and was caught (tied) again,
and again the crocodile ate it. Next morning the owner was sad at heart.

Then he set the trap at another place, and the crocodile came again to
eat the meat, but did not find anything, and he began to search, and was
caught in the trap himself. Next morning the owner of the trap came and
found the crocodile caught in the trap. So he took a spear and wanted to
kill the crocodile, but the crocodile said, “Please don’t kill me, but
let me go out, I will go home and pay you because I have been a thief”.
Then the crocodile said, “Carry me, we shall go to my home,” and it leapt
on the man’s back, its claws (ikalawesa) entering his body.

Then a hare saw them moving in the water and said, “You, man—where are
you going?” The man answered, “I set my trap, and caught my buck, and
this gentleman (chief) used to come and steal, but to-day he was caught
in my trap himself and said, ‘Let me out, I will go home and pay you for
your goods’”.

The hare said, “I don’t hear you, what do you say?” Then the man said the
same words. Then the hare said, “Are you abusing me? I don’t hear what
you say. Come near, come near.”[41] Then the man said to the crocodile,
“Chief, listen, the hare says we must go back a little”. Then the man
repeated the same words to the hare. The hare said to the crocodile,
“Yes, that is right. But first come off his back there.” Then the hare
asked the man, “How did you set your trap? Let me see it.” Then the man
set it. The hare then asked the crocodile, “And chief, pray, how did you
get in? Let me see.” The crocodile said, “I passed here, and I passed
here, and I went Gwede!” there the crocodile was caught.[42] The hare
said, “Now, do you, O man, kill that vermin. It wanted to eat you.” The
man killed the crocodile, but to this day remains a feud between the
crocodile and man.


44. THE HARE AND THE BANGLES.

A hyena and a hare went to a village[43] to marry. They found women and
said, “We want to marry”. The women assented, but their mother said, “We
don’t wear calico,[44] but the skins of lions, leopards and pythons”. The
hyena and the hare said, “Very well, give us salt and bangles,” and she
gave them.

The hyena and the hare then went away, and on the road they found a dead
elephant. The hyena said, “I will stay here,” but the hare said, “No,
chief, but let us wait one day (without touching the meat)”. The hyena
said, “You are bad, such is your nature. Then you may look for the skins
of lions, leopards, and pythons. But the lion is terrible.” The hare
said, “I will try to kill a lion that my wife may rejoice and say the
hare is strong.”

Then the hare took his bag of salt, and arrived at the lion’s village
wearing bangles on his legs.[45] When the chief lion saw the hare
disguised like a woman he said, “You are my wife”. The hare consented
and said, “Yes, but your chief wife abuses me”. Then the lion killed his
chief wife and all her children. The hare said, “Take off their skins”.
The lion then took off the skins of his own kindred—and the hare and he
were left alone. Then the hare said,[46] “My husband, your eyes terrify
me”. The lion said, “Take them out”. The Hare then put out the eyes of
the lion, and killed him and took off his skin, and took it and hid it by
the road, and then went to the village of the leopard.

When the leopard saw him, he said, “You are my wife”. The hare said,
“Very well—but your chief wife abuses me”. The leopard then killed his
chief wife and all her children. The hare said “Take off their skins”.
So the leopard took off the skins of his relatives. Then the hare said,
“My husband, I want pythons’ skins”. The leopard went and killed pythons.
The hare said, “That is right, only your eyes terrify me”. The leopard
then said, “Put them out,” then the hare put out his eyes, and killed the
leopard and took his skin. The hare was then very glad, and said, “I have
been clever”. Then he took the skins of the lions, leopards and pythons,
and went away and met the hyena. The hyena was astonished, and said,
“Ugwi! How have you, O hare, slain ——. The skins of lions, leopards and
pythons!” The hare answered, “I have slain them with my bag of salt”.

The hyena said, “I will go to kill my skins”. The hare said, “I am going
for my wife”. He said, “Yes, I will meet you there”. The hare went to his
wife. She was very glad, and said, “My husband is clever,”[47] and she
put on the lions’ skins. The hyena attacked a lion, the lions were angry,
and said, “O hyena, is it war that you want?” and they killed the hyena.
The hyena’s wife asked the hare, “Where is my husband”? The hare said,
“He is dead”.

Then the hare staid at that village and was a great chief.


45. THE HUNTER.

There was a man that used to kill game, and he went to the bush to kill
game, and shot a buffalo in the evening. He cut it through the middle and
took the two hind legs, and left the other two and its horns, and said,
“I will take them to-morrow”. So he went back where his companions were,
and found them, and said, “Well, I have killed a buffalo and taken these
two legs, I left the other legs and the horns, but we shall go and fetch
them to-morrow”. His friends said, “Yes, that is best (good)”. At night
there came a hyena and found the buffalo, and went round about it and put
his head into the breast (ribs) of the buffalo, and took it and went with
it to his village.

Next morning the owner of the meat called his friends, and said, “Come
now, let us go and cut up our meat”. They went to the bush and found the
meat carried off by a hyena. Then the owner followed after in the track
in which the hyena had gone, and at noon he met with the hyena going with
his meat. When it heard his tread it sang, “Go in the path where it is
pleasant,” and began to try to get out its head, but the meat had dried
on its hair. And it sang again the same strain, trying to get out its
head but not succeeding.

The owner laid hold of the horns of the buffalo. When the hyena felt
that the meat was stuck, it asked, “Who is it that is catching me?” The
owner said, “I, the hunter,” and he scolded the hyena, and said, “Where
did you take this meat from?” Then the hyena began to speak with him, and
said, “Please, hunter, do not kill me, but release me, and I will pay you
when I go home”.[48] So the hunter took his knife and cut the ribs of the
buffalo, and said, “Now come to your home,” and they went to the cave,
and the hyena said, “My wife is with children. Go now to your home, but
when this moon has finished, return, come here and I will give you three
children[49] because of your meat.” The hunter said, “I understand, I go
home”. So he took his meat and went home with it.

After this the hyena went and met with a lion, and said, “Well, chief,
if I give you an animal (meat) without hair, what will you pay me?” The
lion said, “I will pay you whatever you want”. Then the hyena took the
lion and conducted him to his cave, and said, “Do you, lion, go into
this cave, and at the end of the moon (month) there shall come an animal
without hair”. The lion asked, and said, “Where lives an animal without
hair? In the bush here all the animals have hair. But where will the
animal without hair come from? Do you mean a man?” The hyena said, “I
mean a man”. So the lion entered the cave and waited for his meat.

At the end of the month there came the man to receive payment for his
meat, and he found at the cave the footprints of a lion, and he began
to be astonished, and said, “Has that hyena changed to a lion?” He was
strong in heart and went into the cave: but when he met the lion and his
wife in the cave he wanted to go back. The lion began to be fierce, and
said, “Why do you go back, my meat?” The man said, “I am not your meat,
but you ate my meat, and said, ‘Come at the end of the month and I will
pay you with three children’”. The lion said, “No, I did not eat your
meat. It was a hyena, and he told me to dwell in this cave, and promised
to give me meat without hair.”

The man objected, and there arose a great quarrel, and the hare came and
found them quarrelling, and said, “Pray, chiefs, leave off this dispute
of yours. O lion, your elder brother[50] sent me to go and tell his
younger brother not to eat the man.” The lion was angry with the hare,
and said, “Get away”. The hare said, “You are angry, but I was sent by
your elder brother to ask you not to eat the man”. The lion said, “Well!
but what am I to do with the man?” The hare said, “Give him to me, I
will conduct him to the path”. Then the hare took out a vessel of honey
and snuff (lit. tobacco for the nostrils), and took, and the lion said,
“Give me[51] that I may taste your snuff”. The hare gave him, and the
lion took (ate) it, and said, “It is good”. The hare then took the honey
into his hands and began to eat, and asked the lion, “Do you want these
sweets that I am eating”. The lion said, “Yes,” and he gave him a little
and told him to lick it. Then the lion licked it, and said, “It is good,
give me more”.[52] The hare said, “Well, I am willing to give you, but
you must first give me your tails, and I will tie them together”. Then
the lion assented, and asked his wife, saying, “Listen, my wife, do you
want to eat sweets?” His wife said “Yes”. The hare said, “Come, I will
tie your tails together,” and the wife came and gave her tail. Then the
hare tied them together. Next he took the man and went out with him. The
lion said, “Are you going away without giving me my sweets?” The hare
laughed at him, saying, “Ah! I will never give you”. Then he took a stone
and threw into the cave and closed it, and the lions died.


46. THE ELEPHANT AND THE HARE.

The elephant and the hare formed a friendship. The elephant said, “Friend
let us go and hoe a field”. The hare said, “Come let us cut handles (for
our hoes)”. When they had cut the handles they said, “Come let us put
on our hoes”.[53] When they had put on the hoes, they said, “Come let us
hoe”. As they were hoeing the hoe of the hare came out, and it said, “I
am here, my chief, I have come to you to put in my hoe”. The elephant
said, “How will you put it in!” The hare said, “I will put it in on your
head, I will use it (your head) for a stone. When your hoe comes out, you
will come to me”. The elephant said, “Fix it in”. So the hare knocked his
hoe in, on the elephant’s head. Soon the hare’s hoe fell out again and
the hare came once more to the elephant and said, “O chief, I have come
to put in my hoe on your head,” and it put it in on the elephant’s head
and then went away.

As they hoed, the hoe of the elephant fell out. The elephant said. “Hare,
O chief, my hoe has fallen out! I will fasten it in on your head.”[54]
The hare said, “Wait for me a little:” and it ran off. When the elephant
went to look he saw no one.


47. THE FISH EAGLE AND THE MNG’OMBA.

A fish eagle and a mng’omba (a large bird that feeds on shells)
contracted friendship, and the fish eagle said, “Friend, let us go and
marry wives”. They went to a village and found a woman that had two
girls. The fish eagle said, “We have come to marry”. The man said, “Very
well. You have found girls here.” So the fish eagle married his wife and
his comrade married also his wife.

Then the fish eagle said one day to his companion, “Come and let us kill
fish”. So they went to a lake to kill fish. The fish eagle killed many
fish and the mng’omba killed many shells. At night they said, “Let us go
home”. So the fish eagle tied up his fish and the mng’omba his shells,
and set out to return to their village.[55] When they were half-way, the
mng’omba persuaded the fish eagle saying, “Give me your fish, I will
carry them for you”. So the fish eagle gave him his fish while he took
his comrade’s shells.

Then the mng’omba went on before[56] and ran fast and arrived at the
village and took the fish eagle’s fishes and gave to his mother-in-law.
Afterwards the fish eagle came and found that the mng’omba had divided
his fishes. But the fish eagle did not speak a word, he preserved
silence.[57] His mother-in-law said, “You told us you were going out to
catch fish, but where are they?” But the fish eagle did not answer his
mother-in-law. Then she kept abusing him and said, “You are not a good
husband. I will take my daughter from you and give her to the other man.”
The fish eagle went to his house to sleep without speaking a word.

Next morning the fish eagle said to his comrade, “Come again to the
lake to catch fish”. They went. The fish eagle killed many fishes, the
mng’omba many shells. On their way back[58] when they were half way
to the village the mng’omba wished to persuade the fish eagle again.
But the fish eagle refused and said, “No. You cheated me yesterday and
said, ‘Give me your fish and I will carry them for you,’ and I gave
them and you ran away with them and went to the village and gave your
mother-in-law saying, ‘I have killed these fishes,’ and my mother-in-law
laughed at me yesterday, but to-day I don’t want to give you my fishes, I
will carry them myself”. The mng’omba was very angry and said, “You are
not good,” and the fish eagle asked, “How?”

Then they came to the village and the fish eagle gave his fishes to his
mother-in-law, and she was glad and said, “Now! you are indeed a good
son-in-law”. But with the mng’omba she was angry and said, “Yesterday you
came with fishes, but to-day where are they?” The mng’omba told a lie and
said, “The fish eagle took my fish from me”. The fish eagle heard the
words that the mng’omba spake.

Next morning the fish eagle called his father-in-law.[59] “To-day I want
five men to go with me to the lake to fetch fish”. His father-in-law
said, “Very well,” and gave him five men. The mng’omba said also, “Give
me five men to carry fish”. His father-in-law said, “Very well,” and gave
him five men. Then they both went to the lake and the fish eagle said to
his men, “Put up tents (of grass), let us dry our fishes (in the sun),”
and they put up (tied)[60] three tents. The mng’omba told his people
saying, “Put up three tents, let us dry our fishes”.

The fish eagle went into the lake and began to kill fishes and killed
many. His men opened them up and dried them. The mng’omba went into the
lake and began to kill many shell fish, and he called his men and said,
“Bring baskets and put in the shellfish”. His men said, “We don’t want to
carry shells (or shellfish.[61]) At the village you spoke saying, ‘I go
to kill fish,’ but where are your fish?”

Then the mng’omba began to be angry and abused the fish eagle. The fish
eagle became angry too, and they began to fight.[62] The fish eagle
scratched the mng’omba on the face (eyes) and on the neck, and the
mng’omba was ill and cried, saying, “Mh’m mh’m mh’m!”

Then they all went back to the village. The fish eagle gave many fishes
to his mother-in-law,[59] but the mng’omba gave nothing. Then his
father-in-law[59] drove him away, saying, “Go from our home. I don’t want
you.[63] I want the fish eagle.” Then the mng’omba went away and the fish
eagle remained.


48. THE LAD THAT FED ON AIR.

There was a lad that went to a large village to seek (a girl) in
marriage, and he found a woman that had a female child. He asked the
woman and said, “Please give me your daughter, that I may marry her”. The
woman said, “Yes, I will give her to you”. Then the lad was happy, and
built his house and married his wife.

Then his mother-in-law cooked porridge, and gave him, but he refused,
saying, “I don’t eat porridge, but air (mp’epo)”. The mother-in-law was
surprised, and said, “My son-in-law does not eat porridge, but air!”

One day his mother-in-law sent him to the garden to hoe, and he was
seized with hunger, but his mother-in-law did not give him porridge
because he never ate porridge.

At midnight he arose and went to the mortar and put in his head and
licked all the flour (food) where the women had been pounding. But his
head stuck fast in the mortar, and remained there. His (little) wife went
outside to seek him, and found him in the mortar, and told her mother,
saying, “Mother, come here and see what my husband has done”. Her mother
came and found her son-in-law in the mortar, and said, “Son-in-law, why
did you refuse to eat porridge, lo! your head has stuck in the mortar,
and what am I to do?” The son-in-law was much ashamed and did not speak.
The mother-in-law took an axe and split the mortar: the son-in-law came
out, and went into the house and did not go out again.

[A similar tale is told of a woman whose husband did not make her a
proper mortar. At night she went to lick any flour that might be left in
the mortars of the other wives. Her head stuck, but by her efforts to
disengage herself she turned the mortar over, when it rolled down the
hill, woman and all, greatly to the alarm of the villagers, who all got
up to see what could be the matter.]


49. THE GIRL OF CLAY.[64]

There was a woman that took clay and made a child, and clothed her with
fine calico, and said, “My child, I have made you of clay, if you see
rain, run to the village”. The girl assented to her mother. One day
there came other girls, and said to their companion, “Companion, come
and play”. They went to play. They came to a lake, and took off their
clothing, and began to bathe. They spoke to their companion, and said,
“Come and bathe,” she refused. They said, “You are not good. Why do you
refuse to bathe? Are you ill?” She said, “I am not ill”.

Next day they went to a distant lake, and took off their clothes, and
they said to her, “Come and play in the lake”. Her mother had forbidden
her. But she went into the lake, and began to melt with the water, and
cried, “O mother, come and take me”. Her mother refused, saying, “I told
you long ago not to go into the water, but you have disobeyed”. Then she
died.


50. THE PYTHON.

There was a python, and it caught the child of a buck (Ndogolo). It
happened that the bush was burning, and a flock of buck passed. The
python said, “Hoe to save me at the side here”. The buck said, “What have
you fed on? (What are you stuffed with?)” The python said, “I have not
fed on anything”. The buck replied, “But we should be burned”. Then the
flock of buck passed on.

Then came a man with an axe in his hand. The Python said, “O chief, hoe
to save me”.[65] The man said, “Why, if I hoed to save you, you would
devour me”. The python said, “No, I would not devour you”. The man came
and hoed beside the python. The python then said to the man, “Stay
(sleep) four days, on the fifth come back”. He said, “Yes, I understand,
I will come back”. So he went home and staid four days; on the fifth he
went back, and found that the python had vomited—vomited everything—and
had become a young lad. It said, “Draw near, chief, that we may converse
over our business”. The man drew near, and the lad said, “Put me on
your shoulders”. He put him on his shoulders, then they both entered a
hole; in that hole they went on for three days. On the fourth day they
came to the home of the python, and he put down the python. The latter
said, “I should have died but for this man, he hoed by my side. Those
fellows of buck all refused to hoe for me. He came and hoed to save me,
else I should have died.” The python then brewed beer, and they set to
drinking, and drinking, and drinking. The man then said, “I go home now”.
The python said, “Wait,” and he gave him four bales of calico, and also
a bottle, saying, “Should you encounter war, turn this bottle upon your
enemies, and you will find that they are dead”. The man said, “Stay,
friend,” the latter said, “Go”.[66]

When the man arrived at his home, he found that it was deserted—that war
had been made against it.[67] On reaching his village he encountered
enemies. Then he brought out his bottle, and pointed towards his enemies.
They were all pupulu (!)—dead and gone (!) (Wosepe ’wo pupulu! kumala
kuwa!)

Then the man went to his fields. While hoeing went on an army had
gathered against his village[67]. The enemy pursued him to the fields
where he was. When the man saw the army—let him try ever so much to shew
his bottle—it happened that he had left it at the village, and the enemy
had taken it. Now the enemy caught the man and tied him with ropes (of
bark), and took him to their home. The capturers said, “Don’t kill him
now, we shall kill to-morrow when the people assemble”. Then they went
to put him in the slave-stick. As he lay there, a Rat came, and the man
said, “Who is it that is gnawing at my feet?”[68] The Rat answered and
said, “I am a Rat”. The man said, “If you are a Rat, go into the house of
the chief, and if you find his basket, make a hole in it, when you have
made a hole, if you find a bottle bring it and come here”. So the Rat set
off and went into the house of the chief and found the basket. It was
lying so. Then came the Rat and made a hole in the basket and took the
bottle and went with it to the bondman. The bondman said, “I will pay you
in the morning”.

In the morning as soon as it was dawn, the king assembled all his people,
and went to bring forth the man from his prison. He had his bottle with
him. He was set down in the forum. Some said, “Fetch the spear to kill
him”. He produced his bottle. The people who sat there when he held it up
were dead and gone! The man took all the property and called his friend
the Rat and divided it with him.


51. HIDE AND SEEK.

The honey bird and the bat formed a friendship. The honey bird said, “Let
us play at hiding”. So the bat went under the trees near the river (or
lake) (nyasa). Then came the likuse and swallowed the bat, a crocodile
swallowed the likuse, and a hippopotamus swallowed the crocodile.[69] The
honey bird was going about in search of his friend, but without finding
him. As he was returning from his search he met a hippopotamus and shot
it. The hippopotamus died. The honey bird went away to the village to
call the people to cut up the meat. Many people collected and went to
that meat. As they were cutting it up, they found the crocodile in the
inside (chitumbo) of the hippopotamus. On opening the crocodile they
found the likuse, on opening the likuse they found the bat. The bat came
forth and said, “You have gained”.

Next the honey bird went away. It went into a hole (in a tree) of bees.
The bat then went about in search of its friend. In returning from this,
it found bees. The bat then said, “I will go away to the village”. Then
it took fire and said, “I will fetch my bees (honey) I found there”. It
carried the fire to the tree and began to fell the tree, which came down.
As it looked at the bees, it found the honey bird there. It said, “Take
care, take care, we are going to burn”. So the honey bird came out of the
tree. The bat and the honey bird then sang. Both went home to the village
laughing. When they arrived porridge[70] was cooked and they feasted.

The honey bird and the bat said, “Let us hide again”. The honey bird had
a gun, the bat had a bow. The honey bird went to the bush, and killed a
buffalo, and then went inside his gun, and the meat just lay there. The
bat came and found the meat lying, but did not see where its owner had
gone. Though he called, all was silent—the owner came not. The bat went
to the village to call the people, saying, “I have found meat yonder,
which the honey bird has slain, but I have not found where he has gone
himself, only the gun is lying there”. An offering was then pounded by
his wives and put on the top of the buffalo he had slain. The honey bird
then came out of the gun, and cut up the buffalo, and it was carried to
the village. The honey bird said, “Cook the hearts[71] that we may eat,”
and they were cooked. All the people that carried ate the hearts (mitima).

Next the bat went away with his bow to the bush, and shot a buck
(ndogolo) and it died. The bat itself then went into the reed of the
arrow. The honey bird found the meat of the bat. Though he tried to see
where it had gone itself, he failed, and he said, “I must just go back
to the village to tell that the bat has slain meat”. Then the honey bird
went away to the village to tell many people. The bat’s wives prepared an
offering, and put on the head of the buck. The bat then came out of the
reed. The buck was cut open and carried to the village, and the bat said,
“Cook its heart” (hearts), and the heart was cooked and all eaten.

Then they were happy together saying, “We have played at hiding every
day”.


52. THE MAN WITH DOGS.

There was a man that had ten dogs. Early in the morning he had porridge
cooked for them, and went away to the bush, and killed ten marsh-pigs.
When they were running after another it began to rain, and the man ran to
a cave with his dogs.

Before he was well seated he saw an aged one coming, and the aged one
began to ask, “Who is sitting in the cave?” The man then came out of the
cave and climbed a tree. The aged one said, “Now you are eaten,” and
began to fell the tree.[72] When the tree was about to fall they heard
a bird (Mlamba) saying, “The tree of God shall never fall”. The old man
again began to fell it; they heard the same little bird saying, “The tree
for the Offering will never fall”.

They heard a mpuli[73] crying, “Puli!” when one dog died—“Puli!” another
dog died, and so all the dogs were finished. The man then began to call
the dog at the village which wore the beads. Let the mpuli try to sing
again—they heard the dog call “Puli!” and the aged one died.

[At the end of this tale the narrator gave the advice to keep dogs found
in tale 36. The native dogs look so unpromising that recommendations of
this kind are not uncalled for.]


53. THE GIRL THAT REFUSED A HUSBAND.

There was a girl that refused men,[74] and there came a hyena and married
her. The hyena said, “I will conduct her to my home that she may pay a
visit”. His mother-in-law said, “She does not pound. She only pounds
castor-oil beans.”[75] The son-in-law said, “Yes,” and she accompanied
him on the journey and arrived at the village. At the village they staid
(slept) four days: then the husband said, “I will go and cut bark (to
make cloth)”. He told his chief wife saying, “That girl does not pound”.
When the husband went away, his wife went for the husked grain and said,
“Girl, pound this”. The girl said, “I do not pound, I can only pound
castor-oil beans”. She said, “Who will pound for you? Take the mortar,
put in your grain, and pound”. As she pounded water appeared up to her
loins, she pounded again, and it was at her neck, as she tried again, she
was covered over.

A little bird followed after her master, saying, “Your wife is dead”.
When he returned from his bark cloth he found the water everywhere. The
man then took his small sticks, and said, “Piti, piti, ukosolya mbinji”.
As for the water it was not seen where it had gone. The people then came
out, and the man said, “What did I tell you then? I said that the girl
could not pound. What you won’t hear, you hear when your head is boiling
in a pot.”[76]


54. THE GUINEA FOWL.[77]

As the guinea-fowl flew, it found bamboos springing up, and it called the
partridge and the dove, and all the birds and said, “This is springing
up, come together and look at it, it will destroy people. Come let us
peck it while it grows.” The partridge refused and said, “I will look out
for myself”. The guinea fowl said, “I have warned you now”. So they left
the bamboos growing. When they were grown then came men and found the
foot-prints of guinea fowl and said, “Come let us set traps,” and they
said, “Go and cut bamboos,” so they cut bamboos and set traps.

As the guinea fowl passed, it found the partridge caught, and said, “Ah!
I warned you saying, ‘Come let us peck that which was springing up’. When
you objected it sprung up, and now people have taken it and made a trap,
and you are caught.” The partridge said, “It was for you they set it, and
you have escaped”. The partridge continued, “Release me, peck the cord,
peck it with your beak, when it is broken let us flee and escape.” As the
guinea fowl pecked, the partridge was pecked in the eye and died.

Then came a man. The guinea fowl flew away. He said, “A guinea fowl was
here and has fled”. He took off his belt and set for the guinea-fowls.
Then he went off to return to the village, and he took the partridge.
He found the river swollen.[78] As he crossed, the water took away his
clothes. When he came to the village they said, “Where did you put your
calico”. He said, “It was taken away by the water”. They said, “You did
not make it firm with your belt”. He replied, “I left my belt to snare
guinea fowl.”

They plucked the partridge and cooked it. While his wife was cooking it,
she went out to the stream for water. The man took a plate and took off a
leg and went to a chamber saying, “I will eat it in the chamber”. But the
woman came and washed the ladle and took a plate, and took off one leg,
and went to the chamber. The man then went away before he had eaten, and
said, “She will see me, I must hide my plate”. The woman said (aside), “I
must hide my plate, lest he see it”. She said to him, “Let me pass, let
me pass to the door”. The man said, “Where are you going?” She said, “Let
me pass,” and the plates met—thwack! and were broken. She said, “What did
you carry?” He said, “What did you carry?”[79] She said, “Eating a relish
alone! I was tasting it.” He said, “And I was tasting it too!”

The man took goods and gave the woman, and said, “Do not bring disgrace
on me”. The woman brewed beer, and gave the man, and the matter ended.

[The native husband is highly susceptible to ridicule. The next story has
a similar conclusion].


55. THE MAN WITH THE BRAN PORRIDGE.

There was a man that did not eat bran-porridge, and he married at a
village, and built a house with rooms. Then he killed an elephant, and
carried its tusks to the coast. “Good-bye, my wife; I go a journey to buy
goods”. “Take bran, eat it on the way.” “I don’t eat bran, but flour”;
and he set off to the coast, and sold his ivory; and he got a _fez_—he
got it to the bargain.

“Now, good-bye, my friend,” the other said—“Good-bye; you will meet us
next year; bring more ivory again. We shall sell you more goods. We shall
tell you the price of goods; come to say farewell.” He went to the house
to say farewell, and went off for his home in the Yao country. He arrived
at the village there, and they rejoiced that the caravan had come and
brought goods.

The woman pounded corn[80] and put the bran in a plate, and went to the
stream to wash the husked grain. The man took the bran and put it in his
hat (the new _fez_), and took water, and put it in, and stirred, and ate.
The woman then came to the door, and he took the hat and covered his head
to hide the bran-porridge; lest his wife should see him. “There, I said
I did not eat bran-porridge; my wife will laugh at me.” His wife said,
“What is that on your head, that you are hiding?” He said, “Medicine that
I prepared—for the journey”.

As the bran-porridge trickled down, he said, “Oh, my wife, hunger,
hunger. Some hunger eats weeds of the field, some hunger eats what is
bad. After hoeing for food, we shall eat what is nice at a feast. My
wife, do not tell people that I was seen with bran-porridge on my head.
I will pay you with goods.” So he paid her with goods. The woman brewed
beer, and people collected, and danced and feasted.


56. DISOBEDIENCE.

A man and his wife went to the garden to hoe. The wife saw a nang’kabai
(a bird), and told her husband. He shot it and gave the children to cook.
As they were cooking the bird sang a song, “Roast me well, roast me
well!” They took it to their father, and it sang again, “Roast me well,
te, le; te, le, roast me well!” He said, “It is nothing, I will eat it”.
Then he called his wife and said, “Now, that food is cooked, divide it
for me. I will eat it.” So his wife divided it for him and he ate it to
his porridge.[81]

Next morning they went to the field and said to their children, “You
must wait to cook the porridge for breakfast to which the party will
return at mid-day. See that you don’t eat of that bird.” They said, “We
understand, we will not eat it”.

After that the daughter cooked porridge, and brought some[82] and gave
her brother fowl for a relish. Then her brother refused the fowl and
said, “I will eat of the bird to my porridge”. As he ate he began to grow
the horns of a rhinoceros, and a tail. His sister heard[82] a breaking of
plates and cried, “Tembo, what are you doing?” Then he came out of the
house and began to chase his sister. His sister began to sing, “Mother
you are in the field, Tembo has become a rhinoceros. But your daughter
is not a rhinoceros.” The woman said, “My husband, a person is coming
and singing a song: perhaps it is our children”. But her husband struck
her[83] and said, “You are lazy, you do not want to hoe”. The wife said,
“No, I am not lazy,” and soon they heard it again. And they saw their
daughter coming running from a rhinoceros. The father took his gun and
killed the rhinoceros.[84] Such was the fate of the disobedient boy.[85]




FOOTNOTES


[1] After the subject of Civil Jurisdiction was re-adjusted by
Commissioners sent out for the purpose, criminal cases were specially
considered by a lay superintendent in the Mission, and the offenders were
kept in slave-sticks by the headman of some of the Blantyre villages.
Any headman performed this task with great zest when the offender
was an alien, but when obliged to confine one of his own people (his
‘brothers’), he grumbled very much.

[2] One of the last cases where a flogging was proposed, took place in
the following manner:—A drunk man threatened to make a martyr of one
Englishman whom he attacked with an axe. After a struggle, however, he
was caught and laid past for a flogging. When told of the matter I was
very anxious that the poor fellow should be spared this. He was a native
doctor—a man of some standing among his tribe. Fortunately the white man
that had been assaulted was one who could make allowance for a native.
Next night I got hold of an interpreter and went to reason with the
prisoner, pointing out that he had forgotten himself, and was most likely
to feel the consequences. I explained that I was sorry for him, but that
I could do nothing to help him, and that the only way of escaping was to
tell the injured party that he was sorry for what had happened. I don’t
know how he worded his apology, but next morning he was described as
having been let off because he was so very penitent!

[3] Often spelt Zambesi. Where my spelling of African names differs from
what is sometimes seen in English books, I had a reason. My attention
was directed to the subject in the following manner:—One day I spent a
long time in setting down the derivations of several African names. To
my great annoyance, I felt that in many cases I was busying myself about
words which no African native _had ever heard_! Hence, although sometimes
complying with use and wont, I have often given what I think the more
correct spelling. The Portuguese are more fortunate in spelling native
names than English writers are. Only when a man like Luther could spell
his own name in four different ways (Luther, Ludher, Lutter, Lother),
people that are not etymologists or phonographers, may excuse some laxity
in writing African words.

[4] (I-am) the-driver-away-of-the-pigs: but owing to the abridged
notation the gentleman would go down on the roll-book as Mr. Pigs.

[5] The translation “Deliver as from the Evil One,” adopted in the
Revised Version, is not so easily understood by persons that hear the
prayer for the first time. But (as will be seen from the 3rd and 4th
chapters of Vol. I., as well as from the Native Tales in the Appendix)
the supernatural world of the African is by no means tenantless.
Moreover, the negro is very eager to hear all that the European has to
say on this subject. When a Missionary rendered the well-known words
addressed to Nathanael, “Hereafter ye shall see heaven open, and the
angels of God _crawling up_ and _crawling down_ upon the Son of Man,”
he was soon asked to explain what he meant by “angels”! The moment
the native understood they were spirits, he was able to improve the
translation which had led him to place them in a different category.

[6] Our stockades were formed of growing trees.

[7] This sentence of mine was published in the Church Missionary Record,
but the words, _and truly_, were inadvertently omitted. They were,
however, in the original letter.

[8] Since my return to England, I was told in a letter from a native that
this man still figures as a kidnapper, and that he recently lighted a
great fire and threw some children into it, who were reduced to ashes.

[9] Although many native females saw the disturbance, they did not come
to speak (§ 68).

[10] Page 218.

[11] Even one of the Deputation publicly declared that blame was due
not “on account of wrong doing, but of want of action”. Now the one
object that I had aimed at, was to act towards the Committee’s colony
at Blantyre exactly as clergymen act towards colonies in all parts of
the world, while I understood that the Lay Missionaries were to go on
with the colonial work in the same way as they had been doing before my
arrival. According to the minute of appointment, I had been sent out as
“Clerical Head of the Mission,” and I had always given the Committee
credit for knowing the laws of the Church too well to make me anything
else. But now it appeared that we had been playing at cross purposes:
for the Directors began to insist that “Clerical Head of the _Mission_”
really meant “Civil Governor of the _Colony_”.

[12] On one occasion there was a great conflagration at Zomba, in which
a house was burned down. Although the danger was great a certain native
was not afraid to mount on the roof. He then called for water, but the
only method available was to hand up some in an old tea-kettle, which his
companions did. He might as well have hoped to extinguish the flames by
throwing on a pinch of snuff. Still he persevered, but, which was more
ridiculous, when the fire came nearer, the man became very thirsty, and
had to drink a large percentage of the water with which he expected to
extinguish the flames!

[13] The Anyasa name for a hippopotamus is _mvu_, the Yao name is
_ndomondo_. The first word is undoubtedly taken from the snorting of the
animal, while the second word may be taken from the splash with which the
animal returns to the river after feeding on the bank.

[14] On such a journey as ours the traveller may make every day so much
of a Sabbath or so little of a Sabbath (as the case may be) that he loses
his reckoning. It is exceedingly easy for a person to do this, and having
nothing to refer to he becomes quite helpless. We were told that on one
occasion, on Lake Nyassa, a party of Missionaries mistook their days, and
while “one day in seven” was diligently observed by them, “the first day
of the week” was profaned!

[15] The longer one labours in Africa the more does he feel what a call
there is in that land for Missionary effort. Christian agency could
effect a great deal more if better directed. Here we have a land teeming
with population. Each Missionary has a field for himself alone, perhaps
as extensive as Great Britain which has its thousands of Clergy. In a
quiet rural parish of Scotland we may have the United Presbyterian,
the Free Church, and the Church of Scotland (all three Presbyterian.)
This gives us three clergymen doing a work which one clergyman could
easily accomplish. In the interests of Christ’s Kingdom this is surely a
pernicious arrangement which is all the worse if the various Christian
bodies instead of fighting with Home Heathenism fight with each other.
What a great deal might be done “to make disciples of all nations” by
employing existing agents! But it is said “Clergymen are unwilling to go
to heathen lands”. This raises the question, ‘What encouragement have
they to become Missionaries?’ The Church of England, for instance, has
no difficulty in finding Clergymen who will become Bishops. A great deal
depends upon the inducements that are held out, and we may say so without
implying that the English Bishop is more mercenary or less self-denying
than a city Missionary.

[16] Since the above was written we have received the sad news that this
devoted servant of God has been called away. His death will be a great
loss not only to his own Mission, but to the whole cause of African
Missions. While at Blantyre we occasionally corresponded with him, and it
was with interest and sympathy that he looked upon our work in the region
once occupied by one of his predecessors. Indeed he had himself laboured
for a short time as far inland as Morumbala. His contributions to the
study of African languages are of the greatest value.

[17] Clapping the hands is a form of salutation. His elder brother whom
he succeeded is now his god.

[18] Besides regarding the strength of armies, the natives look greatly
to the cleverness of those that possess tempting property, believing, as
they do, that a clever man is sure to have a powerful war-medicine.

[19] Here we may trace some hazy idea about the use of spectacles.

[20] We translate the sorcerer’s name.

[21] Simwe was the name of the chief.

[22] The fruit of a native tree. The creation of these men reminds us
of the story of Cadmus, while a disappearance of this kind is common in
other native tales; sometimes the people go away because “called by their
birth names” (§ 52).

[23] Parenthetical remark made by the narrator.

[24] This character is always given to the hyena (litunu), which
corresponds to the wolf in European tales.

[25] Nothing is commoner than to see natives carrying porridge in leaves.

[26] The original is Rabbit or Hare.

[27] This would be the certain result of shouting “war”.

[28] Monkeys are an article of food.

[29] A native version of “Once upon a time there lived a man”.

[30] A similar story is found in Bishop Callaway’s Zulu collection. The
name of the hero there is Uthlakanyana.

[31] I translated this from Chinyasa, I had also several Yao versions of
the tale, one of which says that the occasion of the bargain was that
they had knocked their hoes together.

[32] The word for “roast” in Chiyao is Kalanga, hence the name
Kalikalanje.

[33] Or field.

[34] It is quite common to see this mode of wearing the hair. As the
natives wear so little clothing, it is difficult to describe a person so
as to make identification easy.

[35] Perhaps preparatory to hoeing.

[36] In some of the largest native pumpkins a rabbit might be concealed.

[37] This story comes from a native of Quilimane, and resembles a
European tale found in Grimm’s Collection.

[38] The Anyasa have the same word for bees as for honey. If we were to
translate the above so as to make this evident, we should have “much
honey of life,” or, “much living honey”. The Yao have two different words.

[39] Many tales speak of fatal results from bees. The unclothed native
we might think, would be peculiarly helpless among them. Still, by using
fire, he soon secures the honey.

[40] Nyama applies to the animal when alive, as well as to the flesh.

[41] In this way it is usual for villagers on the river banks to
challenge canoes. It would be very unusual for the crews to pass on
without heeding the call, for then the villagers might fire on them. It
is no excuse to speak of “being in a hurry” in this land. The same rule
applies in the case of strangers passing a village. Europeans, however,
are understood to be always in great haste, and are seldom interrupted.

[42] The Hottentots have tales whose main feature is an incident like
this.

[43] A man stays at his wife’s village.

[44] A present of calico is usual at betrothals.

[45] The ordinary dress does not distinguish a male from a female,
bangles would.

[46] All these arrangements are concessions that the hare obtains
_before_ the “marriage.”

[47] A cleverness like this is much prized and practised by the natives.

[48] The man is allowed his meat and the compensation besides. But for
the promise made by the thief, his life would not have been spared. All
these fables are in exact accordance with native customs.

[49] This is one way in which the natives may “over-draw their bills”.
The promise does not seem in the least strange to those acquainted with
the slave system.

[50] The elder brother is the head of the family or small clan (97).

[51] A general that led an army against the Scotch Highlanders was said
to have committed a great mistake in putting his baggage behind his
army, and not in front. If the goods had been in front, they would have
absorbed all his enemy’s attention! The appearance of eatables will
divert the mind of a native king amidst the most pressing civil cases.

[52] Anything sweet is greatly liked. We often used to give the natives
sweetmeats. At first they were afraid to taste them. After a time,
however, their desire for these things became insatiable.

[53] We should rather speak of putting on the handle (see H).

[54] Simple humour like this is greatly enjoyed by the natives. I suppose
their hares (sungula) like English ones, are most easily killed by a
stroke on the head.

[55] The village according to native law (97), would belong to their
father-in-law, and neither they nor their wives could succeed him. The
father-in-law even if he had no younger brothers, would be succeeded by
the children of his eldest sister.

[56] People always march in Indian or rather in African file. The paths
do not admit of two going abreast. Even after a wide road is made, the
natives still march behind each other (one by one), in a long line.

[57] Natives often act thus, knowing perhaps that the value of their word
is very little.

[58] Abridged. In the native tales we always have repetitions like what
are found in Homer’s Iliad and such ancient books.

[59] In these genderless languages, we have for father-in-law and
mother-in-law the same word in the original. But for native glosses, I
should have been inclined to translate ‘father-in-law’ all through.

[60] “Tie” is always used for “build”. Their houses are “tied” together.
Even in the houses built for the mission there was not a single iron nail.

[61] Same word.

[62] Private parties often settle differences thus. Two women will roll
in the mud biting and scratching each other like furies. They don’t tear
each other’s hair, their hair being so short; but their comparative
nudity makes biting convenient.

[63] A good specimen of native divorce.

[64] This tale is exceedingly common—in various versions.

[65] Hoeing is one method of self-preservation, when one is caught by a
bush fire. These fires are exceedingly dangerous. The smoke accompanying
them is quite blinding. On one occasion I was rescued by natives from
considerable danger.

[66] The usual good-bye.

[67] A common experience in these unsettled lands.

[68] The natives sleep through this treatment. The European awakes with a
scream!

[69] Natives are fond of working out a long series of this kind.

[70] A great element in native rejoicings. It is the negro’s bread.

[71] The word here includes heart, lungs, liver, stomach, entrails—all
the inner part of the animal. The natives eat these first, and may
preserve the rest of the meat.

[72] Many Zulu stories have incidents like the above. In another version
I was told that the instrument used by the old man was his teeth.

[73] The great number of birds have their names formed from their notes,
the root being often doubled as ngwale-gwale.

[74] A tale which is very common under various form. Such tales are
meant to impress the mind of the young African girl with the danger of
not taking the husband that she has been bound to. They are used in
connection with the mysteries, and have built up a public opinion which
is too strong for any poor girl to resist. Many young girls applied at
the mission to be freed from this kind of bondage.

[75] Used for anointing (ornamenting) the person.

[76] This is a native proverb which applies to people that are not moved
by the _prospect_ of danger.

[77] Communicated by Mr. Buchanan.

[78] In the rainy season, streams that one can easily leap over, become
in a few hours quite impassible.

[79] There being no windows it is very dark inside native huts.

[80] Natives do not keep food or even flour in readiness, and the slow
cooking is a great trial to a hungry man.

[81] Their porridge like our bread is seldom eaten alone—but milk is not
used to it.

[82] The brother and sister, though sharing their food with each other,
eat apart.

[83] When a man goes to hoe, one of his reasons is that he may be on the
spot to keep his wives from trifling!

[84] The natives have two names for a rhinoceros according to the number
of its horns. Similarly they have one word for a black cat and quite
a different word for a red cat. If we try to derive the names of all
animals, &c., from sounds produced by them or associated with them we
meet a difficulty here. The natives have about twenty different names for
_beads_ according as they are _black_, _blue_, &c., &c. The scarcity of
adjectives makes this necessary to some extent.

[85] Such stories, stupid as they seem, are valued by the guardians of
children and impress the infant mind with lessons of obedience.



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76363 ***