# Seven Years in South Africa/Volume 1/Chapter 10

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CHAPTER X.
FROM MOLOPOLOLE TO SHOSHONG.
WHITE-ANT HILLS.
Viewed from the grassy valley in which we were ​standing, Molopolole appeared undeniably the most picturesque of all the Bechuana towns. Around us were the rocky heights, most of them absolutely perpendicular in their upper parts, the lower half being formed of huge masses of rock, thickly wooded on the less abrupt declivities, and occasionally adorned with some giant aloe; on our right, overhanging the pass, was the Molopolole rock, with its interesting geological formation, and between us and the mouth of the defile were fine trees shading the mission buildings and their little gardens with their tropical growth of bananas and sugar-canes; in front of us, at the base of a steep cliff on the east, was one native village, and at the foot of a wooded eminence to the west lay another, in which was the spacious store of Messrs. Taylor, which, next to that of Francis and Grant, is the most important in the whole Bechuana country; between the villages the eye rested upon the rocky pass known as the Kobuque, and high above the more easterly of the two stood the portion of the town occupied by the royal residence, and the abodes of the upper class of the tribe. Turning to the north and west, we could see the part of the town that lay at the foot of the northern ridge, whilst outside the valley were the red ruins of a deserted village, and beyond that again the open plain, bounded on the south and south-west by the dark verdure of the woods that we had just traversed. Nothing was more striking in the entire scene than some enormous ant-hills standing at the edge of the ​brook at the foot of the hills on the north; the principal pyramid was as much as nine feet and a half in height, and, including some smaller ones at the side, occupied an area forty feet in circumference.
But greatly as the scenery of Molopolole is to be admired, a like measure of approval cannot be bestowed either on the agricultural industry of its population, or on their style of architecture; nevertheless, their ruler deserves some credit for his prudent choice of this natural stronghold for his residence.
Sechele, the present king, to whom Livingstone has devoted more than one chapter of his “Travels,” and of whom I have some few further particulars to relate, formerly resided with his Bakuenas to the south-east of Molopolole, near the spot where we now find the town of the Manupi. His tribe had become considerably reduced in numbers, through its wars and skirmishes with the surrounding people. Nothing but ruins now marks the site of his former home, which was near the Transvaal frontier, and called Kolobeng. Here it was that, in 1842, he was visited by the Nestor of African travellers.
Driven from Kolobeng by the Boers, Sechele next settled in Liteyana; but, in 1865, he migrated about ten miles eastward to Molopolole, where already there was asettlement established, and where he was joined by Pilani from Masupa. His territory, which is the most northerly of the four Bechuana kingdoms that I have mentioned, is bounded on the west ​by the great Namaqualand; on the north by the eastern and western Bamangwato; on the east by the Limpopo and Marico on the Transvaal frontier; and on the south by the country of the Banquaketse. The southern frontier lies under lat. 24° 10′ S., and runs down past Kolobeng, in a south-east direction, as far as the Dwars Mountains and the Great Marico; the northern frontier, on the side of the two Bamangwato kingdoms, is in lat. 23° 30′ 8., and partly follows the course of the Sirorume River. I should estimate the number of Sechele’s actual subjects to be about 35,000, whilst the Batlokas, Bakhatlas, and Makhosi that reside in the country, but are not tributary to him, amount to 18,000 or 20,000 more. The entire population of Banquaketseland is nearly 30,000; the subjects of Montsua, the Barolong king, muster 35,000; whilst the smaller Barolong tribes that reside further in the neighbourhood of such towns aS Marokana, and do not pay tribute to Montsua, may be estimated at 30,000 more. Mankuruane, the Batlapin king, has more than 30,000 people under his dominion; and in the little Mamusa kingdom there are now scarcely 8000 inhabitants, although a few years ago there were at least 10,000 in the neighbourhood of Mamusa Town alone.
On the evening of the 21st, our encampment in the Molopolole valley was visited by an ill-clad Dutchman, who worked here as a smith, and by two natives, who directed us where to find pasturage for our oxen. They were soon followed by Mr. Price and Mr. Williams, the two missionaries, who came ​to bid us welcome to the place. Mr. Williams has since returned to Europe, and Mr. Price has been ordered by his society to Central Africa. By his second marriage with Miss Moffat, this gentleman became related to Dr. Livingstone.
I took two excursions next morning—one to the ruined town on the west, and another up the glen that opened into the valley, by the Molopolole Pass. Amonst the ruins I noticed some vaulted buildings, constructed of reeds, twigs, and cement, similar to those which I had seen in Mosilili’s Town on the Mosupa River. Turkish figs, and the well-known South African datura, with its violet-coloured blossoms, grew luxuriantly about the place.
The huts occupied by the Bakuenas, or Bakwenas, differed somewhat from those of the Batlapins and Barolongs. They were generally less substantially built, and in this respect were especially inferior to the Barolong huts; most of them, however, had the clay enclosures which are formed by the eastern Batlapins round their fire-places, but which are dispensed with by those of the south and west. In the villages, I found small meeting-rooms, or conference-halls, standing amongst the homesteads; they consisted of a conical straw roof, supported on twenty piles or more, the intervals between the piles being filled up half-way by a substantial wall of rushes, ornamented with simple devices in ochre.
My little expedition up the Molopolole glen well repaid me for the trouble. I shot several fish, and by the help of my rod caught no less than seven ​sheat-fish. Under the overhanging, almost perpendicular cliff, that formed the left-hand side of the pass, was a deep place that by means of dams, partly natural and partly artificial, was kept perpetually full of water, which got dried up within the town. In arid seasons, this was an excellent refuge for the fish, better even than the smaller pools higher up the glen, which, being exposed to the ravages of otters and lizards, did not allow the fish to be propagated as rapidly as they otherwise would have been.
Accepting an invitation from the missionaries, I paid them a visit, and found that Mr. Price had a home that was furnished with much comfort and considerable taste. It must, however, have been a great difficulty for him to attain such an amount of domestic civilization. He had been one of the two missionaries appointed to conduct the mission into the country of the Makololos; their reverses, however, had been so many, and their non-success so complete, that they had been obliged to abandon their undertaking. His associate, Mr. Williams, belonged, like himself and the other missionaries in Kuruman, Taung, Kanya, and Shoshong, to the London Missionary Society; he had been several years in South Africa, and was now building himself a house. They offered to introduce me to the king. Accordingly, on the second day after my arrival, we proceeded to mount the rocky heights on which, like an eagle’s nest, stands the part of the town that is occupied by Sechele and his retinue. Passing the unfinished house of Mr. Williams, we had first to ​ascend a narrow section of the glen, at the end of which stood the chapel built by Mr. Price, an unpretending edifice, sixty feet long and twenty-one feet wide, with an aisle and a thatched roof. Thence we passed on through the south-east quarter of the
KING SECHELE.
upper portion of the town, and, before proceeding to the royal residence, had to direct our steps to the kotla, to pay our respects to the king, who had received formal notice of my arrival. By the “kotla,” I mean one of the enclosures that I have described as erected in Bechuana villages and towns ​for the purposes of conference and debate. On the side of the enclosure facing the royal residence was an opening, capable of being closed at pleasure by trunks of trees. Sitting on a bench near this spot, the king, surrounded by his relatives, subordinates, and the elders of his tribe, listens to the reports of his hunters, spies, and messengers, receives the visits of ambassadors from other kings, who are allowed to squat before him on the ground; and delivers all his judgments, sometimes by his own word, and sometimes by the mouth of one of his representatives. Not unfrequently there is a small wooden hut close at hand within the enclosure, where a fire is kept burning, providing a place of assembly in wet weather. The kotlas are sometimes obliged to serve as forts; and such as are situated at the foot of hills are protected on the side of attack by logs of extra size and weight as a defence against missiles.
Sechele received us standing. He was a man considerably over fifty years of age, stout, very tall, and with such a perpetual smile playing on his face as to give me at once the impression that I was in the presence of an utter hypocrite. This primâ facie impression was subsequently confirmed.
After acknowledging our salutations, Sechele turned to Mr. Price, and begged him to tell me that my appearance pleased him more than that of any white man he had ever seen. Mr. Price had hardly finished interpreting what had been said, when, in turning towards the king in astonishment at receiving so flattering a compliment from a man ​whom I had never met before, I caught him winking his right eye at a subordinate chief and his son with an expression that completely belied his words. The facility with which, on perceiving my surprise, he resumed his habitual smirk, proved that he had no inconsiderable amount of self-possession.
He then invited me and the two missionaries to accompany him to his house, and to take a cup of tea. It was only a few minutes’ walk to the front of his residence, a new and trim-looking edifice. Close beside it was the old house, now occupied by the king’s eldest son, and adjoining it were the dwellings of the various other members of the royal family. The new abode had just been erected by the firm of Messrs. Taylor at a cost of 3000l., the money being raised by the sale of ostrich feathers and oxen.
Sechele’s establishment is more luxurious than that of any other of the Bechuana sovereigns, and he has quite adopted the European style of living.
Before describing our reception I may say a few words about Sechele himself.
Although he was the first of the six Bechuana kings to profess himself a Christian, he has the reputation of standing lower in moral character than any of them, whilst his northerly neighbour, Khame, the present king of the Eastern Bamangwatos is ranked highest, our good friend Montsua being assigned the second place. Sechele is a thorough intriguer, double-faced, and evidently a firm believer in the maxim that “the end justifies the means.”
​The name of his tribe, the Bakuenas, is derived from two words, Ba or Ma, and Kuena, or Kwena, signifying “crocodile-men,” i.e. the men who dance the crocodile-dance, implying that although they do not actually worship it, they regard the crocodile with a certain amount of veneration. The king’s full title is Sechele M’Kwase Morena ea Bakuena.
Quite unprepared for our visit, the queen was reclining in the courtyard, Bakuena fashion, on an oxhide; but as we entered she rose to greet us, and conducted us to the house. She was a tall, muscular woman, earing a handkerchief bound round her head and fastened behind. She had on a cotton gown, and a great woollen shawl. Her designation is Ma-Sebele, the mother of Sebele, which was the name of her youngest son.
Whilst the queen went to order us some refreshments, Sechele handed us into the reception-room, or, as he called it in broken English, the drawing-room. It was furnished throughout in European style, the chairs and couches being of walnut-wood, covered with red velvet. Nothing pleased the king better than to exhibit the interior of his palace to a white man, and the complacent grin that overspread his countenance, as he ushered me through the apartments, evidently showed that he considered that he was giving me a great treat. After requesting me to be seated, he spread out his pocket-handkerchief, which he did not appear to use for any other purpose, on the chair which he selected for himself, and sat upon it. The queen, when ​she returned, seated herself upon a wooden stool.
Sechele now proceeded to question me, through the missionaries as interpreters, as to my own nationality, and the object of my journey. It was the case with him, as with most Bechuanas, that the only white men that he knew were Englishmen, whom he liked, and Boers, whom he did not like; and he was manifestly surprised when he learned that I belonged to neither of them. As soon as he thought he had got the word “Austria” impressed upon his memory, he inquired upon what river I resided, and whether I lived in a town or at a cattle-station, by which he meant in the country.
The name of Prague was another puzzle for him, and his surprise was still further increased when he heard that it was twenty times as large as Molopolole; his manner of expressing himself being that “his heart was full of wonder at the greatness of the village.”
Turning to his wife, he said,—“He is a nyaka (a doctor); he is not an Englishman; he is not a Boer; but—”
His memory had failed him, and he had to turn to the missionaries to be prompted. He caught the word Austrian, and, rising from his seat, stammered out,—
“Q-o-stri-en!”
Then, looking round, he smiled as if he had accomplished a prodigious feat.
At this moment a new comer appeared on the ​scene. A tall boy came in, about fourteen years of age, dressed in a shirt, trousers, waistcoat, and a red woollen cap. He shook hands with the missionaries, as old acquaintances, and laughed at everything that was said, especially when the queen introduced him to me as her “Tholing Beb (darling baby) Sebele.” When he had been with us about half-an-hour he suddenly recollected that he had come to say that tea was ready in the dining-room.
Sechele immediately led the way; we followed him, the queen bringing up the rear. We were all in great good-humour, particularly Tholing Beb and myself, both of us looking forward to partaking (he for the second time that day) of the cakes of the Makoa (white man), which I had not tasted for the last two months. The young prince, however, was not allowed to join us at the round table, but was made to stand aloof, and do all the waiting, an office which he performed very fairly. The dining-room table was handsome, and covered with a white cloth. Tea was served in cups shaped like little bowls. The king swallowed at least a quart. The sugar-basin, cream-jug, and the rest of the service were placed upon a side-table; they were all of silver, being, as I understood, a present from the merchants who made periodical visits to Molopolole. The tea was good, and the cakes unexceptionable.
There was now a renewal of the conversation that had commenced in the drawing-room, and I was catechised about the proceedings of the English ​Government in the diamond-fields, and those of the Dutch Government in Pretoria and Bloemfontein. The queen clearly had no interest in these subjects, and gradually resumed the nap which had been interrupted by our arrival. Sechele appeared a little vexed at her breach of etiquette, and attempted to rouse her by some spasmodic coughs, which became more violent at each repetition. Failing, however, to awaken her from her slumber, which every moment grew more sonorous, he stealthily gave her such pushes with his elephantine foot that I had the hardest matter to keep from bursting out laughing.
Controlling myself as well as I could, I said, “Morena, when I was only thirteen years old, I read your name in Nyaka Livingstone’s book. I little thought that I should ever see you and speak to you: far more surprising is it to me to find myself drinking tea in your palace.”
The king, although he still practised rain-magic, had become familiar with some passages of Scripture, and said, with a sanctimonious air, “His ways are past finding out.”
But while Mr. Williams had been interpreting what I said to him, he had kept one eye fixed on his wife; and, observing to his disgust that she was almost falling from her seat in her drowsiness, he only waited until he thought I was not watching him, to give her such a tremendous poke, that she had a narrow escape of knocking her cup off the table with her forehead.
​ RAIN-DOCTORS.
I occupied all my spare time at Molopolole in exploring the neighbourhood, and procured some good additions to my collection. As zoological specimens, I obtained a very fine head of the Oryx capensis with long horns, a leopard skin, one of the Gueparda jubata, ​and several of the Hyrax. I also procured a skin of the Viverra Zivetta, which seems to be very rare, besides some of the Felis caligata. Mr. Williams brought me the carcase of a three-year-old caama-fox, that had on some previous occasion been caught in a trap and lost one of its hind paws; it had now been caught a second time, and more effectually. The Bakuena heights are the habitat of the beautiful klipp-springer; and in the country north of Molopolole, we for the first time came across elands and giraffes.
I was very much struck by the number of medium-sized birds of prey, such as sparrow—hawks, falcons, buzzards, and kites. Mr. Williams had killed as many of the kites as he could, on account of the depredations they made amongst his wife’s poultry. A great variety of owls, white owls, barn-owls, and small screech-owls likewise had their abode in the cliffs, and in the crevices of the rocks there were many sorts of mammalia and reptiles, snakes and lizards finding there a most congenial home. Insects, such as lepidoptera and flies, abounded in the luxuriant vegetation, and in the decaying trunks of trees. I also made a large gathering of beetles, spiders, and centipedes. I may say, without the least hesitation, that a student in almost any branch of natural history could hardly fail to make a visit to the Bakuena hills highly remunerative.
Here, just as on the Bamangwato heights, and other rocky ridges of the high plateau of Central ​South Africa in connexion with the Marico or Matabele mountain systems, we find either the steep, fissured slopes of table-hills, or table-lands studded with conical and isolated peaks. The ascent to this network of hills is effected by a wooded and sandy plain with a scarcely perceptible rise, and the descent is just as gradual to a shallow river-bed, beyond which rises again another similar ridge of heights. The geological composition of these highlands consists of granite, quartz-slate, trapdykes, veins of chalk, and ferruginous sandy clay. The vegetation is characterized by some gigantic aloes, which in places form regular groves.
In concluding my account of Molopolole, I may be allowed to introduce a brief notice of some of the religious and social customs of the Bechuanas generally. I obtained many details from the English missionaries, Messrs. Mackenzie, Hephrun, Price, Willams, Brown, and Webb; from the German missionary, Herr Jensen; and from several of the better educated Bechuanas themselves; and in the course of my three journeys into the interior, I was able to verify many particulars by my own observation.
In the strict sense of the word the Bechuanas, that is to say, the branches of that family in Central South Africa, cannot be said to have any religion at all; nevertheless the circumstance, that upon receiving their first instruction in Christianity, they at once applied to the Unseen God the designation of “Morimo,” without attaching any difference to ​the signification of the word, would lead to the inference that in bygone times they had rendered homage to some presumed divinity either visible or invisible. Another word, closely allied to Morimo, and not unfrequently heard in the vocabulary of the Bechuanas, is “Barimo,” by which they appear to signify the spirits of the departed. But although they cannot be said to have any actual religion, the mass of the population put a kind of faith in certain ceremonies, which amongst other people professing polytheism would be regarded as religious rites; they likewise avow a degree of veneration for certain animals, inasmuch as they will not kill them, eat them, nor use their skins. We find also that ceremonies such as these to which I refer are performed and inculcated by persons educated and set apart for the purpose, with the king, or if the king should be a Christian, with the heathen next in rank to him, at their head; thus forming a sort of society of priests, having a high priest, called nyaka or nyaga.
As long as the Bechuanas, though subdivided into several families, were united under a single sceptre, the right of kingship was hereditary in the Baharutse tribe; and subsequently the old royal family retained the prerogative of performing what might be called the sacerdotal part in the ceremonials. For a long while after the empire was broken up, and the various tribes had branched off—one to the north, others to the south, east, south-east, and south-west, forming larger or smaller independent ​states of their own—the ancient royal family was not only respected, but notwithstanding that their sovereign control was limited to the small clan from which they originally sprang, they still held the rank of high priests at all the great superstitious rites, so that even members of other reigning families, as well as the nyakas, would journey from the new states back to the court of the Baharutse to see the ceremonials duly performed by their former chief. Of late years, however, since the branch tribes have developed into important states, and many of their chiefs have become Christians, the custom has almost ceased; nevertheless the ancient royal family is always held in high veneration by the whole of the Bechuanas; and this, in spite of its members through mutual dissension having lost every vestige of power, and residing either as subjects of the Transvaal in and about the town of Linokana, or as subjects of Khatsisive in the town of Moshaneng. The present chief of the eastern Baharutse, and consequently the proper sovereign of the Bechuanas is a young man named Pilani.
In the detached Bechuana kingdoms the sovereign institutes and arranges the ceremonies; in districts where several tribes are united under one rule, this responsibility devolves upon the leading chief. The most important of the ceremonies is the formal partaking of the first-fruits, mainly of the gourd; but, in addition to this, there are the initiation into the healing art, the invocation of rain, and the magical ​incantations. The partaking of the first-fruits must be performed by the chief alone, in his capacity of head doctor and magician; but in the other rites he is assisted by the linyakas or priests, who also practise the arts of rain-making and magic, and who are generally nyakas, having, in addition to their other attainments, a certain superficial acquaintance with the medicinal properties of plants.
Out of doors these linyakas are distinguished by a short mantle made from the skin of the baboon (Cynocephalus Babuin), and their homes are characterized by carpets made from the skins of the Hyæna crocata or maculata, on which they sit to receive audiences. Many of them wear round their necks whole strings of the bones of different mammals, birds, and reptiles, and all, without exception, are provided with four little pegs, generally made of ivory, but sometimes of horn, and branded over with figures, which are thrown like dice, and used for the ostensible purpose of diagnosis; these pegs are called “dolos,” and are occasionally carried by men who, though not actually linyakas, have paid a sum of money to be instructed in their use.
The office of linyaka is hereditary, but young aspirants may obtain admission into the order. Before entering upon the requisite course of study, every candidate must present his teacher with a cow, or some gift of equal value, or if he should happen to have gained some mali (money) in the diamond-fields, he has to hand over a fee, which may vary from 4l. to 7l. The first step in the course ​is to dig up the plants that are reputed to have medicinal virtues, and for this purpose the student is taken through the woods and plains, and made familiar not only with the plants themselves, but with the parts of them that are to be employed, and with the times and seasons when they ought to be gathered. The appropriate parts of the plants having been steeped in water to form decoctions, or dried and pounded into powders, are then, by the use of certain formularies, converted into “medicines;” other formularies being repeated when the remedies are administered, an operation which must of necessity be performed by the doctor himself, and which ordinarily takes place in the presence of a noisy crowd of lookers-on.
In disorders like typhus or dysentery, sudorifics are the remedy most frequently exhibited. The patient is made to lie down in his best fur jacket, or in a warm woollen shawl bought probably for the occasion, and when the medicines have done their work, the nyaka reappears and carries off the reeking garment, in order, as he says, to bury it, sweat and all. The patient may be rejoiced at having the disorder carried so effectually out of the house, but if, when convalescent, he should happen to see the doctor’s wife parading the village in his jackal-skin, or in the comfortable shawl, he would never venture to hint at its restoration.
The latter portion of the course of study com​prises the art of casting the dolos. Besides being doctors, the linyakas are conjurers and magicians, and accordingly have to teach their pupils how to procure, use, and sell the amulets, which, bound round the forehead, or worn on the neck, are supposed to secure protection from the malevolence of enemies, from the attacks of disease, from the pursuit of wild beasts, or from any injuries by gunshot. Such amulets are manufactured out of the tarsus bones of certain small quadrupeds, the scales of pangolins, the metatarsus bones and claws of several birds, the skins of snakes and lizards, small tortoise-shells, or the bodies of large weevils. None, however, of these are considered of more importance than the dolos, with their variegated devices, strung together either singly or mixed with beads on blades of grass, or hairs from the tail of the giraffe. The principal use that is made of them is for purposes of divination; they are brought into play to find out the whereabouts of stolen goods, or the retreat of a fugitive, as well as to exorcise obnoxious men and beasts; they are considered capable of charming away an enemy, and of averting mischief, certain formule generally being recited whenever they are employed.
Another department of the linyakas’ functions is to perform certain public ceremonies for the common welfare, such as burying a couple of antelopes’ horns on the paths leading to a town; placing pots on stakes in a prominent part of a village; hanging baboon-skulls near the entrance of a kotla; or set​ting the heads of some large beasts of prey at the gate of a cattle-kraal, the design in each case being to provide a charm against external attack. Occasionally, also, fields are furnished with magic charms to ensure a fruitful harvest, or to keep off locusts; the amulets which are employed for these public purposes being always prepared with mysterious rites, and only the most venerable of the linyakas being permitted to officiate. Amongst the Marutse, on the Central Zambesi, human sacrifices have been made on these occasions.
The public amulets are called “lipeku,” and there are some occasions in which the laity are allowed to take part in their preparation. Such is the case with the “khomo kho lipeku,” i.e. the dedication of the ox to the lipeku. for this ceremony a bullock is selected that has never been in harness; its eyelids are tightly sewn together with fine sinews; it is then turned in again with the rest of the herd, and having been watched for a while, is slaughtered; its blood is then boiled up with other charms, and the mixture preserved in small gourd-vessels. In times of war the king and his generals either smear themselves with the compound, or hang little pots of it on various parts of their bodies.
But although the linyakas in general secure the veneration of the people, there is a class of them that is feared and hated. Such of them as have been known to act from revenge, or who have voluntarily done any injury, or whose magic has proved ​unavailing, are called “moloi,” or evil magicians, an epithet held so detestable that a Bechuana cannot be more insulted than by having it applied to himself. A moloi is considered more potent than a linyaka; it is beleved that he can control nature without the aid of any formal enchantment; that he can clamber over rocks, and cross rivers without being heard; that fire does not harm him; and that jackals cease howling at his approach. Mothers often quiet their crying children by threatening them with the moloi.
These evil magicians are credited with the desire of injuring the crops. Sometimes a true linyaka of good repute may be employed by a chief to inflict this injury on an enemy, but in that case the odium would fall upon the chief, without at all affecting the position of the linyaka.
The Bechuanas maintain that the moloi dig up corpses and kill new-born infants, in order to apply certain portions of the bodies to their incantations; but their most formidable charms are believed to be prepared from large serpents and crocodiles, and from other animals that are most difficult to capture. If any one has a grudge against his neighbour he will betake himself to a moloi, under cover of darkness, and pay him a fee for his services; whatever death the intended victim may subsequently die is confidently attributed to the operation of the magician; if he should die a natural death, he has been poisoned by the subtle “molemo,” or if he falls on a hunting excursion, he has assuredly been attacked by some beast that the moloi had enchanted.
​The accompanying illustration depicts a scene that occurred in Shoshong, in 1866. King Sekhomo was so jealous of the exceeding popularity of his son
KHAME’S MAGIC.
Khame, that he determined to kill him. For this purpose he secretly engaged some moloi to go by night and enact their deadliest enchantments in ​front of Khame’s house. Awakened by the gleam of a fire just beyond his enclosure, Khame crept out and stood quietly surveying the preparations. One of the performers of the mysteries happening to look round, and catching the sight of Khame’s face in the glare, gave a loud cry of surprise; this so startled his companions that they took to their heels. The young man came forward, smashed up all the magic apparatus, threw it as so much lumber on the fire, which he stopped carefully to extinguish, and the next morning, to the chagrin of the king and the discomfiture of the moloi, made his appearance in the kotla as well and hearty as ever.
In conformity with the rest of their character, the moloi have a singular antipathy to rain; they claim the ability to ward it off by burning a fresh green bough, with a suitable incantation, and maintain that they can frighten away the clouds by the mystic use of their guns. In every possible way they lay themselves out to thwart the proceedings of the recognized rain-doctors.
Perhaps the avocation of the linyakas and their chief representative which is really the most important, is the invocation of rain. In protracted periods of drought, when there seems a probability of the accustomed public incantations turning out a failure, recourse is had to linyakas who reside in more rainy districts, the Malokwanas, from the right bank of the central Limpopo, being always ready to put in an appearance in consideration of an adequate present of cattle.
​But in ordinary seasons the task is entrusted to the native linyakas, who in the early spring, either alone or accompanied by a few volunteers, betake themselves to a fertile plot of ground selected as appropriate for the purpose, and proceed “tsimo ea pula,” i.e. to dig the rain-field. In the four corners of the field the men plant a number of seeds of maize, gourds, or water-melons, over which the linyakas have repeated their incantations, and then the women commence the work of digging the soil. The day of the ceremonial is the occasion of a general holiday, the women not going on with their labour till the following morning.
From that day forward the people are forbidden to gather the young branches of trees, especially those of the warten-bichi, which is regarded with veneration by the Bechuanas. But as soon as the kaffir-corn is ripe, the men, with the linyaka at their head, and provided with hatchets and knives, assemble at the kotla, and proceed to cut some branches from the sacred acacia; with these they first repair the royal cattle-kraal adjoining the kotla, and then make good any defects in their other enclosures. To carry a bough of the Acacia detinens round a village at midday before harvest would be regarded as a great calamity to the tribe.
During harvest-time all fruits, ostrich-feathers, and ivory must be brought into the town from the woods covered up. If it has rained in the night, and continues to rain in the morning, no one works ​in the fields that day for fear of disturbing the rain, and inducing it to stop. When the wet weather has fairly set in, or as the Bechuanas conceive, when the doctors have brought on the rain, the linyakas have to continue their operation, so as to ensure that the downpour may be of long duration.
For this purpose they are accustomed to resort occasionally by themselves, but much more frequently in company with their pupils and the owners of the land, to some isolated spot away among the hills, where they whistle, shout, mumble their formulæ, and light fires on the ledges of the rocks, into which from time to time they throw handfuls of their magic compounds.
When at any time the efforts of the linyakas seem unavailing, the fault is supposed not to lie with them, but with certain of the community who must have committed some undetected breach of the laws. Suspicion more often than not falls upon widows or widowers, who are presumed to have omitted some of the purifications prescribed for their condition; they are accordingly sentenced to undergo a public purifying, and the linyakas are paid to erect grass-huts outside the town, where the accused are obliged to reside for an indefinite time, their hair being all shorn from their heads, and whence they are not permitted to depart to their homes until they are pronounced thoroughly cleansed.
If this purification of individuals should prove ​unavailing, a general purifying of all fires and fireplaces is ordered, and the linyakas proceed to remove from every hearth the three stones upon which the kettle is supported, and having carried them all away, and laid them in a heap outside the town, they consecrate as many new ones. During this ceremony all fires must be put out; and either in the evening of the same day, or early on the following morning, one of the assistant officers brings some brushwood and a light, and kindles the fires afresh.
If it should turn out that even this proceeding is a failure, more vigorous measures still have to be adopted. An universal cleansing of the entire town is proclaimed, and all accumulations of the bones of animals, all fragments of skins, and all remnants of human remains, are scrupulously collected and buried in a deep grave; and if the grave should be anywhere near the burial-place of a former chief, which is generally kept a secret, a cow is slaughtered to appease his anger, which probably has been aroused; and very often hunting excursions, known as “letshulo,” are set on foot for the purpose of securing particular animals, some parts of which are essential for the linyakas’ enchantments and rain-charms.
Whatever effect Christianity may have had in ameliorating the condition of the wives of the converts, it has done very little to lighten the severity of their tasks; the introduction of the plough, however, which is driven by men with the ​help of oxen (animals which the women never touch), has relieved the Bechuana women of one of their most fatiguing labours. It is to be hoped that it will gradually tend to the abolition of all the senseless ceremonies of the rain-magic, which I have made this long digression to describe.
I resume the account of our travels.
We left Molopolole by the Koboque-pass, and proceeded northwards along the valley of an affluent of the Tshanyana. The vegetation around us was luxuriant, the river-banks, valleys, and hill-sides being partially wooded with shrubs and trees, and clothed with flowers and grasses of many varieties. The steep cliffs, here red, there yellow, there again grey or dark brown, formed natural terraces of rock, whilst the great loose boulders, some sharp at the edges, some rounded, were set in a framework of verdure, spangled with blossoms of every hue.
The clouds were not propitious, and it was through a heavy downpour of rain that we had te toil along the sandy road. But this was neither the end nor the worst of our ill-luck. When we came to a halt after the exertions of the day, I found that Stephan and Dietrich, the two servants that I had brought from Musemanyana, had disappeared, and with them two of my strongest bullocks. I had noticed on the previous evening how the runaways had been repeatedly warning me that there were lions in the neighbourhood, and concluded that they had a desire to dissuade me from continuing my ​journey. Our distance from Molopolole was about fifteen miles; nevertheless I determined to make my way back, and to ask Sechele to despatch some horsemen over Khatsisive’s country in search of the rascals; and finding next morning that the rain had almost ceased, accompanied by Boly and Pit, I set out on foot to the town.
I walked for five hours, but my heavy boots had by that time rendered my feet so painful that I was obliged to stop; and sitting down on the grass at the edge of the pass leading into the Molopolole valley, I sent Boly and Pit to carry my messages to Sechele and Mr. Price.
Hour after hour went slowly by, foreboding no good for the success of their mission, and when they joined me again quite late in the afternoon, it was only to confirm my fear that all search had been unavailing.
It was little less than martyrdom that I endured all the way back to the waggon. Unable to bear the pressure of my boots, I was compelled to walk barefooted, and as the rain had washed down on to the road countless seeds of a kind of ranunculus (R. crepens), that the Boers on account of their prickliness have named “Devil’s grit,” my agonies can be better imagined than described.
Only just before midnight we caught sight of the blaze of our camp-fire, and were greeted with a cheer of welcome.
As the place had no pleasant associations for us, we started as soon as we could on the following ​morning, pursuing our way through the sandy woods still to the north. The road led us across some shallow depressions that evidently indicated a slope of the land eastward, in the rainy season containing some of the affluent brooks of the Limpopo.
PIT, THE GRIQUA, DISCOVERS LEOPARD TRACKS.
On the 29th our travelling was exceedingly laborious, not simply on account of the sand, but from the rise of the ground in the direction we were going. The shortest distance by road between Molopolole and Shoshong is 128 miles; but in consequence of the deficiency of water, it is only at certain times of the year that the direct route is ​available, and a long circuit generally has to be made. On foot the journey is shorter, and may be accomplished in five days.
Some traces of lions and leopards that we observed next day on the edge of the barren depressions warned us to proceed with caution, and the sand into which our wheels sank seven or eight inches did not allow our progress to be as rapid as we could desire.
The numerous skeletons of antelopes, elands, and giraffes were a token that at no long period previously the district must have abounded with game. On none of the giraffe-skulls that I examined between this place and Shoshong did I find the bony protuberances on the forehead to be of equal height, and many had one or both covered with exostoses, which in some cases formed a bridge between them across the brow.
Once more, on the 31st, we found ourselves in a sandy forest. During the last two days there had been no rain, and the South African sun poured down upon us its glowing beams. While we were toiling along, Boly drew my attention to some dark objects hanging on an acacia. On closer approach we found them to be large pieces of dry giraffe-hide, which we conjectured that some huntsmen had hung up and forgotten; but while we were handling them we were accosted by a Makalahari, who told us that they belonged to the morena Sechele, and thus put an end to any idea we might have entertained of appropriating them to ourselves. The man told ​us that he and a few others were stationed there for giraffe-hunting, the flesh being their own perquisite, while the skins were the property of the king. I gave him a little present, and he told me that we should not meet with any water until the middle of the following day, a piece of information that made us push on with all possible speed, and we did not bring our day’s march to an end before it was quite late.
The New Year’s morning of 1874 dawned dull and drear. Although the previous day had been so hot the sky was now overcast, and the temperature considerably lower. Towards the middle of the day the atmosphere became clearer, and we saw a small column of smoke rising from a wooded eminence above the valley before us which seemed to extend towards the east. Had it been a column of gold we could hardly have been more delighted than we were at the sight of that dingy vapour, and we had no sooner discerned the miserable huts from which it arose than we sent Pit on ahead to implore the inhabitants to let us have some water to allay our thirst. Some children were playing in the vicinity, and we soon came upon two men in the valley who appeared to be awaiting our arrival. To our grievous disappointment, when we came up with Pit, he told us that he had ascertained that the only places from which the people obtained their drinking-water were a few deep pools, much too small for any animals but goats to drink from, and there was no place in the neighbourhood where ​we could water our cattle that it was possible for us to reach before sunset; and here were two of the people, who having obtained the permission of their master, a Bakuena, offered to show us the nearest way.
One of these volunteer guides was a Masarwa. I think that I have already mentioned that the Bechuanas, like the Korannas of Mamusa, possess servants, or more properly slaves, belonging to the Makalahari race, sometimes termed the Bakalahari, who formerly owned the territory between the Zambesi and the Orange River. Although really slaves they are generally treated with much consideration; but besides them, there are two other tribes, the Barwas and the Masarwas, that are reckoned as slaves, and are regarded by the Bechuanas with much more disdain; although at times there are alliances between the Makalahari and the Bakuenas, no free Bechuana would ever dream of allowing a connexion between himself and either of these two subject races.
The Barwas and the Masarwas, although perhaps not really identical, are known by either name promiscuously amongst the northern Bechuanas and the Madenassanas, who live in the upper central parts of the two Bamangwato kingdoms. They may be described as a cross between some branches of the Makalahari and the Bushmen. Their form, complexion, language, and customs afford various indications of their double origin, and I do not think I can be mistaken in supposing them to ​be a link between the Bushmen and the Bantu family.
The Makalahari are generally employed by their Bechuana masters as cowherds, and especially as domestic servants, but these Masarwas are perpetually engaged as hunters, a pursuit in which they are far greater adepts than their owners.
NATIVE POSTMEN.
Like the Bushmen they use bows and arrows, to which Bechuanas are little accustomed; they are very adroit also in capturing animals by means of poisoned assegais, and in driving them into pits; and they are remarkably skilful in making battus; in this respect being very like the Madenassanas, a tribe closely allied to them in appear​ance and language. It must be mentioned, however, that it is especially necessary to be on one’s guard against their craft, treachery, and thievish propensities.
In districts where game is abundant they reside in detached villages. Their huts look something like large haycocks, consisting of a framework of stakes driven into the earth, fastened together firmly at the top about five feet above the ground, and covered with a layer of twigs and dry grass; they are surrounded by no enclosure whatever, and a few smooth stones on which seeds are crushed or bones broken, some piles of ashes, some clusters of dry vegetable pods, and a few worn foot-tracks are the sole signs of their being used for human habitation. Though they are slaves, they are entrusted with guns and ammunition, but all the skins, ostrich feathers, ivory, and rhinoceros-horn that they procure, as well as certain wild fruits, such as those of the baobab and fan-palm, have to be handed over to their masters. If while hunting with his slaves a Bamangwato or Barolong master has to return home, he leaves the control with the eldest of them; but after being left they have to go back every three or four months and present themselves at the town to deliver what they have secured. On their arrival they are not allowed to enter during the daytime, but are compelled to wait outside, and to give in their names and an account of themselves to the inhabitant next in rank to the chief, who communicates what they report to him; mes​sengers are then sent out to conduct them to the kotla. Hunters who omit to attend the royal residence in the proper way are sent for, and by stern reprimand are compelled to perform this duty.
The Masarwas are of medium height, reddish-brown complexion, and a repulsive cast of countenance. Although in form they resemble the Bushmen, in colour and feature they are more like the Makalahari; they are not, however, so faithful and confiding as these, and consequently are rarely engaged either as domestic servants or as soldiers. At the same time, they act very well as spies upon a frontier, and are useful in bringing intelligence of the advance of an enemy.
No people in South Africa are more skilful than the Masarwas in foraging out water in dry districts, or more keen in tracking game. The rough treatment that they have received from the Bechuanas, as punishment for their misdemeanours, makes them very shy of the white man; and in travelling across the Kalahari desert, or through such woods as we had just traversed, or through those between Shoshong and the Zooga, or, again, between the Salt Lakes and the Zambesi, a European may be followed unawares by people of this tribe, who keep their distance from mere fear of being maltreated or put to hard work; but let a good head of game be brought down, and before the carcase is cold he wil find himself surrounded by a number of them, ready to receive his commission to disembowel it, and ​quite content to receive a good piece of the flesh for their remuneration.
The Masarwas may be said to bear somewhat the same relation to the other South African tribes as the vulture does to the birds and the jackal to the beasts. Wherever his keen eye espies a vulture hovering in the air, he hastens towards the spot where it seems about to settle; there, if (as per-chance he will) he catches sight of a lion in the middle of his savage meal, by dint of shouting, hurling stones, and firebrands, he will make the brute retreat, and climbing up like a monkey into a tree, or scrambling like a weasel into a bush, he will take deliberate aim, choosing a vulnerable spot into which he may send his poisoned arrow, and lay the monarch of the forest low.
Like the Bushmen in the Transvaal and the Orange Free State, the Barwas and Masarwas have a great aversion to agriculture and cattle-breeding. In their primitive dwellings, they do not seem to practise stone-carving, or to use any stone utensils; and the only attempt that I ever saw at carving amongst them was in extremely simple patterns, something like those executed by the Makalahari. Out of ostrich-eggs, however, they cut circles and manufacture long chains and various other ornaments. I never saw or heard of any formation of caves or grottoes among them, nor of any attempt at adorning the rocks.
Superstition is very rife in the entire tribe. Before his hunting-excursions, whether he goes ​alone or in attendance upon his master, the Masarwa never fails to rattle and throw his dolos, in order to ascertain the position and the number of the game he is going to catch, and he relies completely on the indications they give as to his success. The dolos
MASARWAS AROUND A FIRE.
are consulted also in cases of sickness, and even to find out the time at which his master is likely to arrive. He calls them his Morimos, the name having been picked up from the Bechuanas, who used it originally to specify the Deity, but who employ it now merely to signify some object higher than the ​Morenas (princes). In speaking of his treasured possession, he will say, “Se se Morimo se” (This is my god); or, “Lilo tsa Morimo sa me” (These are the instruments of my god); or, “Lilo-lia impulelela mehuku” (These tell me all about him); and not only does he implicitly believe that some sort of supernatural power resides in his dolos, but that he himself in the use of them becomes a sort of inspired instrument.
The Masarwas appear to act with more consideration for their wives than the Bechuanas and the Makalahari; they impose upon them no harder duties than fetching water, and carrying the ordinary domestic utensils; the vessels in which the water is conveyed being generally made of ostrich-shells, or of gourds bound with bast or strips of leather. They also show great regard for their dogs, and treat them in a way that is in marked contrast with the ill-usage that the Bechuanas bestow upon them.
As no traveller has ever resided amongst them for a sufficient length of time to become master of their language, very little is known about their habits and customs. It has, however, been ascertained about them that, on reaching maturity, the cartilage between the nostrils is pierced, and a small piece of wood is inserted and allowed to remain till a permanent hole is formed. The operation is described by the Sechuana word “rupa,” and amongst the Bechuanas is preliminary to the rite of circumcision.
​In many districts the Masarwas are above middle height, and sometimes, in the country of the Bamangwatos and Bakuenas, are, like the dominant race, quite tall. After the repulsiveness of their features, there is nothing about them that strikes a traveller so much as the red, half-raw scars that they continually have on their shin-bones, and not unfrequently on their arms, feet, and ankles. Wearing only a small piece of hide round his loins, and carrying nothing more than a little shield of eland-hide, the Masarwa suffers a good deal from cold; but instead of putting his fireplace within an enclosure, like the Bechuana, or inside his hut, like the Koranna, he lights his fire in the open air, and squats down so close to it in order to feel its glow, that as he sleeps with his head on his knees, he is always getting frightfully scorched, and his skin becomes burnt to the colour of an ostrich’s legs.
MASARWAS AT HOME. :
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MODE OF HUNTING AMONG THE MASARWAS.
By the time we reached the water-pools to which we were being conducted, I was considerably better. The place, at which it was my intention to halt for a day or two, was strewn with zebras’ hoofs clustered over with little excrescences formed by wasps’ larvæ, with fragments of koodoo and bless​bocks’ horns, with the skulls of striped genus, of a giraffe, and of a rhinoceros, so that there could exist little doubt but that comparatively recently it had been the site of a hunter’s quarters. This impression was confirmed by the Masarwa guide, who told us that a party of Bakuenas, with one of Sechele’s sons at their head, had not long since carried back with them to Molopolole a great waggon-load of skins and meat, besides a number of ostriches.
Having refreshed ourselves, we agreed that we were bound duly to celebrate our New Year’s Day. Our festivities were necessarily of a very simple character, and were brought to a close by drinking the health of the Emperor of Austria in the heart of the South African wilderness. The Masarwa stared at us, in great amazement; to him our cheers appeared like speaking to the air, and he inquired of Pit whether we were addressing our morimo.
Towards evening I felt myself so far recovered, that I ventured to take a little stroll into the woods to a spot where the road branched off suddenly from west to north, and where I had observed some trees of a remarkable height. In the different woods between Molopolole and Shoshong, some groves of trees are sixty feet high, and amongst them I saw a species of Acacia horrida, that I think I had not seen elsewhere.
In various places some old trunks of trees had fallen down, and their black bark had become partly ​embedded in broken boughs, or they had rested in their fall obliquely against the standing trunks of other trees, while the vegetation that sprouted luxuriantly from the mould that formed upon the decaying wood grew up so thick as to make tracts in the forest that were perfectly impenetrable. I heard the cackle of some guinea-fowl at no great distance, but as it was growing dusk, I felt it was unadvisable to proceed farther into the grove.
PREPARING THE NEW YEAR’S FEAST IN THE FOREST.
Having amply remunerated them, I sent our two guides back again, but according to their ​advice, I had six large fires lighted round our encampment to keep off the beasts of prey that we were assured were very numerous. Then all unconscious that the next day was to be one of the most eventful of my experience, I lay down and was soon asleep.
I did not wake next morning till after my usual hour, and was only aroused by a strange chilly sensation running over my body. It was caused by one of the small snakes that lurked in the skulls that lay around, and that had been attracted towards us by the warmth of our camp-fires.
The sun was already quite high, and I found that some visitors had arrived, amongst whom I recognized the Bakuena who was the principal resident in the village which we had passed through on the previous day. He had brought some pallah-skins, a few white ostrich-feathers of inferior quality, and an elephant’s tusk weighing about nine pounds, that bore manifest signs of having been shed some years, and having lain in the grass long before it was discovered.
About noon I shouldered the double-barrelled gun that I had brought from Moshaneng, took a dozen cartridges, and went off to get some fresh game for our larder. I had not gone many hundred yards before I observed some vestiges of gnus, which I tracked for some distance, until I came across several fresh giraffe foot-marks running in quite a different direction; at once I altered my course and followed them. The herd, I reckoned, must have ​been at least twenty in number. After keeping along them for nearly two miles, I found the tracks divided, but I adhered to the line of the more numerous, taking, as I imagined, a north-west direction.
The turf was close and by no means deep, so that it was at times rather difficult to distinguish the footprints; the broken branches, however, showed clearly enough that the animals had gone that way quite recently. In some places the underwood was very dense, and there were a good many irregularities in the soil. All the time that my attention had been given to the breaking off of the branches, I had quite forgotten to take any account of the direction in which I had been advancing, and after three miles it occurred to me that I might have some difficulty in returning. Whilst I was pondering over my position, I became conscious of a sickening sensation, which I attributed to being tired and hungry, but almost immediately afterwards I felt a most violent pain in my temples, and my head appeared to be whirling round like a windmill. I wandered about for a while, quite realizing to myself that I could not be more than five miles from the waggon, but finally started off rapidly in what must have been precisely the opposite direction. Whether I was overcome by fatigue and pain, or whether I had experienced a slight sun-stroke, I cannot say, but to this day it is a mystery to me why, from the time I left the giraffe-track, till the lengthened shadows told of the approach of ​evening, it never once occurred to me to look at the sun.
Having discovered my mistake, I turned my course immediately to the east, indulging the hope that I might reach the road between Molopolole and Shoshong. But I was now too much exhausted to go far without resting. I could hardly advance more than twenty yards without stopping to recover my energies, and moreover I was beginning to suffer from the agonies of thirst. It came into my mind that perhaps I was really nearer to the waggon than I imagined, or that possibly I might be within hearing of any Masarwas that happened to have hunting-quarters somewhere near; accordingly, to attract attention, I fired off eight shots in succession. Between each I paused for a time and listened anxiously. My shots were spent in vain.
At the cost of getting severely scratched, I next clambered up an acacia, and fired two more shots from the top. They were as unavailing as the rest; there was no response, no movement in the woods.
Sensible that my strength could not carry me much farther, I began to despair. I felt unwilling to make use of my last two shots, but why should I not? My gun itself was a greater burden than I could bear.
Without considering that by doing so I should probably only attract some beast of prey, I began to shout, but the state of my exhaustion prevented my ​shouting long, and I sunk down upon an ant-hill, from the slippery side of which I soon rolled to the ground, my gun at my side. Here I suppose I was overpowered by the heat, as I recollect nothing except waking with a shriek of laughter at the idea of making myself heard in such a desert; this brought on a fit of coughing, which seemed to relieve my brain, but only to make me more conscious than ever of the excruciating sufferings of thirst.
In vain I felt around me in the hope of reaching some leaf that might afford sufficient moisture to refresh my parched lips, but every leaf was either withered, or rough, or hairy; at last I laid hold upon one that was quite unknown to me, and put it in my mouth, but as if fate were mocking me, it proved as acrid as gall.
Toiling on a little farther I felt my gun drop from my shoulder to the ground, and did not care to pick it up. But I had not gone far before I realized how I had surrendered my sole means of defence, and how as night came on I should be exposed to the jackals and hyænas; accordingly by a desperate effort I retraced my steps, and recovered the weapon. It was loaded with my last two shots, one of which I determined to use to try and light a fire by which I might lie down till morning. The twigs, however, would not ignite, and as I abandoned my attempt, I was aware of the gloom of despondency that was settling upon me; the wildest projects entered my brain, and I could ​not repress the words of delirium that I knew were escaping my lips. I fell on my knees, and the last thing I seem to recollect was finding myself in the grasp of a black man, who had pounced upon me suddenly.
SUCCOURED BY A MASARWA.
That Masarwa saved my life. He had killed a gnu that morning, and in returning towards the village to fetch his companions he had discovered me. He waited until I revived, and at once understood the signs I made that I was thirsty; opening a little leather bag that he was carrying, he took out a few berries, which I devoured eagerly, and found a welcome relief in their refreshing juice. ​When I had still farther regained my faculties, I set to work to make my timely benefactor comprehend that I wanted to get back to my waggon. I used the word “koloi” to designate the vehicle. It was not a Sechuana word, but had been very generally adopted, and the man grinned intelligently as he replied, “Pata-pata?” His answer was an inquiry whether I wanted the waggon-road, for which pata-pata is a corrupt Dutch expression. I nodded assent, and he pointed cheerily to the north-east; then lifting me up, he assisted me to move on; he was considerably shorter than I was, and taking my gun with his own three assegais over his left shoulder, he made me walk with my arm over his right. Hope gave new vigour to my steps, and by being allowed to rest now and then, I succeeded in getting along.
We reached the road only as the sun had set angrily in the west; in the east the sky was lowering, and occasional flashes of lightning were followed at some interval by the rumblings of thunder. The air became much cooler, and I shivered in the evening breeze, gentle as it was; I had been in a profuse perspiration, and my clammy shirt was now clinging to my skin; I had left my coat in the waggon. After walking on wearily for another half-hour, I pleaded to be allowed to sit down for a little while; but the Masarwa would not hear of it, and after following the road a little longer he made a sudden bend into the woods. At first I hesitated about accompanying him, but pointing to his mouth ​and making a lapping sound, he made me comprehend that we were to get some drinking-water. “Meci?” I inquired. “H-he, e-he,” he answered, and grinned again gleefully, so that I could not refuse to let him take me where he would.
True enough, in a little sandy hollow not far from the road was a pool full of water. Although some enus had been there within an hour and made it somewhat muddy, it was a welcome sight to me, and I drank eagerly.
When I raised my head from the pool my guide pointed to the black clouds, and made signs to me that we were in for a storm. It grew darker and darker, and very soon the rain began to fall heavily; the huge drops beating like hailstones upon my shivering body, and increasing the wretchedness of my condition. With considerate thoughtfulness the good Masarwa wrapped up my gun in his short leather mantle, and never failed to give me the support of his shoulder. I had the utmost difficulty in holding on. In some places the rain was so deep that we were wading almost to our knees.
Never was sound more welcome than the barking of my dog, which at last greeted my ears. Eberwald and Boly came running to meet us, and were inclined to reproach me with the anxiety I had caused them; they had yet to learn the misery I had endured.
Once again safely sheltered in the waggon, I ​found my energies rapidly revive. I gave directions that the Masarwa should be hospitably treated, and allowed to sleep with Pit by the side of our fire; and, having partaken of a good supper, I soon fell into a sound sleep, which I required even more than on the previous night.
I was able to move about next morning without assistance, and was ready to start again. The Bakuena, who had stayed with our people since the day before, assured us that we should find the direct road impassable; and we followed his advice in making a considerable détour through the bush. We had not gone many hundred yards when we came upon a dead duykerbock that had been killed during the night by a hyæna. It seemed incredible that a creature so fleet as the gazelle could have been caught by an animal comparatively so unwieldy; but the investigation of the tracks left no doubt that it was the case.
Subsequently we met some Masarwas returning home laden with honey. The bees are tracked in the woods by means of the honey-bird; but in open places they are pursued by following them on their homeward way, as they fly back one by one. Their nests are usually in hollow trees, and when the entrance-holes have been discovered, it is easy to drive the bees out by smoke, and to secure the combs. In exchange for a little piece of tobacco, rather more than an inch long and about as thick as my finger, I obtained a pint of honey.
The condition of the road did not improve, and ​we had to make our way through a number of very marshy places, where we frequently found dead tortoises. In the course of the day’s progress I noticed some plants of the cucumber tribe, which may be reckoned amongst the most striking of the South African creepers; their handsome lobed foliage is of a bright blue-green tint, and their bright green fruit, that when ripe is dotted over with scarlet and white, stands out in beautiful contrast to the bushes over which they climb. I have seen as many as ten heads of fruit on a single plant, and no three of them in the same stage of development; the lower tip will often be quite red, the end near the stalk still green, while the intermediate parts vary through every shade of orange and yellow.
On the 5th we still found our route lying through a good deal of sand, but the woods were gradually becoming lighter, and, after a time, we emerged upon a grass plain, where the bushes grew only in patches. After travelling for about eleven miles we met a Makalahari wearing his leather apron, and carrying nothing but a couple of assegais and a hatchet. Upon my asking him whether there was any water tc be found, he offered to conduct our bullocks to some pools about three miles away, and, meanwhile I proceeded to prepare our camp for the night.
A journey of an hour and a half on the 6th brought us to the Bamangwato district, and into the wide, but shallow valley of a river, of which, in the rainy season, the Shoshon is an affluent. This ​valley divides the Bamangwato heights into two distinct parts, the most southerly of which is characterized by several ridges separated by transverse passes; the northern part consists of an interesting network of hills intersected by valleys running some parallel, some crosswise, in the most important of which are the Shoshong and Unicorn Rivers. These northern highlands are marked by conical peaks that rise above the table-land, and by rocky passes, of which the stones that form them are enormous. By some of their peaks the Bamangwato hills are connected with the ridge I have already mentioned on the Limpopo, and consequently also with the range in the Marico district. By the Tschopo chain the highlands are in connexion also with the hill-system of Matabele-land. The whole valley has been the scene of important episodes in the history of the Bamangwatos, and I ventured to call it the “Francis Joseph Valley;” whilst to the highest hill above it I gave the name of the “Francis Joseph Peak.”
I entered Shoshong on the 8th of January. There were various considerations that induced me to make this place the northern limit of my journey. My provisions were getting low, and I had not sufficient means to procure a fresh supply; then I was unable, for want of funds, to get the servants I should require if I went farther; and, lastly, after an absence of three months, I was afraid I should be lost sight of by my patients at the diamond-fields, amongst whom I reckoned upon gaining, by my ​medical practice, the means for prosecuting my third journey, to which the others were regarded by me as merely preliminary.
Before, however, turning my steps to the south, I settled upon staying some time in Shoshong, the account of which will be given in the following chapter.