PRINCESSES AND THEIR MAID TAKING A MORNING BATHPRINCESSES AND THEIR MAID TAKING A MORNING BATH
YOUNG PRINCESSES AMIABLY ENGAGED IN HAIR-DRESSINGYOUNG PRINCESSES AMIABLY ENGAGED IN HAIR-DRESSINGThese are of exceptionally high birth and of remarkable beauty. Either would probably be worth fifty head of cattle and could only be bought for that number. Women are the standard of currency among the Swazis, the average low-caste woman, if young and sound in limb, being worth five head of cattle. The price of women increases according to their birth and beauty
SWAZI GIRLSSWAZI GIRLSThis picture shows the large navel which is common to most women, particularly to those of aristocratic birth
PUDANA, FAVORITE TO THE OLD QUEEN LABOTSIBENIPUDANA, FAVORITE TO THE OLD QUEEN LABOTSIBENIHe is a charming little fellow and the most privileged personality in all Swaziland, being the only male allowed to attend all interviews and conferences
The indunas gathered about and I could see the horror in their faces. They knew what was coming, but even then I did not suspect. Tuys looked startled and gazed at Buno as though he could not understand. Down the lines the plumed heads still nodded and after a moment there was silence.
The savage king slipped a clip into his Mauser, the metallic click intensified by the silence. He raised the rifle, sighting down first one line of warriors and then the other. The next instant a shot rang out and a plumed Swazi pitched forward and lay writhing in the sunlight. As Buno threw another cartridge into place, two warriors stepped out and stabbed the fallen warrior.
Four more shots rang out, and at each a plumed head came down, with shield and assegai crashing as they struck the ground. Each warrior was stabbed as he lay, the killers quietly stepping back into the ranks.
It was the most ghastly spectacle I had ever attended. We Boers have always had to fight for our lives and farms, so that sudden death was no novelty to me. But such a slaughter as this!
Buno completed his twenty shots and made three misses. These angered him and he shouted out the equivalent of "I'll get you next time!"
Then came Tuys's turn. He had been thinking rapidlyand I had a faint hope that he would find some way out.
"O King, it is not fitting that your warriors should die by my rifle," he said hurriedly. "You are king and their lives are yours; I am but your guest and it is not right that brave men should be killed by one who loves only peace. Let us shoot at other targets. Let us kill cattle so that there may be a feast to-night."
Buno's face darkened. His bloodshot eyes flashed and for a second I thought he would strike Tuys.
"The king commands! Buno, king of the Swazis, commands!" he shouted in a hoarse voice. "Shoot! Shoot and kill more than I did, if you can!"
I was holding Tuys's rifle and he came over to where I was standing. I was so sick with it all that I hardly heard him when he spoke to me hurriedly in Dutch.
"We must go through with it," he whispered. "Kill as few as you can. Shoot them in the head and they'll die quickly!"
A second later Tuys raised his rifle. Each shot that hit meant death; there was no need of stabbing when he shot. Buno taunted him at each shot, and in spite of being the best shot in the Transvaal Tuys was able to miss as many as possible without arousing the suspicions of the bloody king.
When he had finished my turn came. I could hardly hold the heavy rifle. Buno fairly abused me, for he was raging by this time. One taunt I well remember.
"O Mzaan Bakoor, you of the great ears!" he shouted,his voice now a hoarse growl. "Show the king that you can shoot as well as you hear. Oom Tuys cannot shoot. You beat him!"
So unsteady was I that I could not have held the rifle firmly if I had wanted to. I shot, and never were twenty shot so many. My score was much worse than Tuys's, but the memory of that murder match will never die!
Buno was jubilant over his victory. He seemed to think that he had shamed the white men before his people and his indunas also gloried in his victory. I think they were rather glad that they had not been asked to serve as targets.
I thought we were done with killing for the time being and wanted to return to camp and rest. I was suffering from shock and felt that I must lie down. But this was not the end. Buno was not yet satisfied. He challenged Tuys to shoot at running targets! Tuys tried to talk him out of the idea and suggested that they had better go and get some gin. But Buno would not be put off.
He led the way to a point a short distance from the kraal, where there were clumps of bushes and long grass. Warriors were made to dodge in and out of these bushes while their king potted them. This required much better shooting, and the men turned and twisted in and out of the brush like mad things. Buno found that he could not kill enough to satisfy his brutish desire and soon tired of the "sport." Tuys, however, had to take his turn, and he was able to miss even more frequentlythan before. Sick as I felt, I was rather amused at Tuys missing these poor savages. I have often seen him stop an antelope in full flight, and we have a saying that "only a bullet travels faster than a springbok."
Tuys orders me to remain in camp during the celebration—I visit the royal kraal—Feasting, dancing, and combats to the death—Butchery of young women—Buno and Tuys wrestle for gold—How Tuys became rich—A "legal execution" in Swaziland—The unfaithful wife expiates her sin—How Tuys shoots—Father gathers information by mental suggestion.
Tuys orders me to remain in camp during the celebration—I visit the royal kraal—Feasting, dancing, and combats to the death—Butchery of young women—Buno and Tuys wrestle for gold—How Tuys became rich—A "legal execution" in Swaziland—The unfaithful wife expiates her sin—How Tuys shoots—Father gathers information by mental suggestion.
I finally returned to our camp much upset by the orgy of slaughter and sorry that I had forced Tuys to take me with him on this trip. He remained with Buno until time for supper and then came into camp to eat. I noticed that, although he was ordinarily a big eater, Tuys had little appetite that night. However, he drank quite heavily and left soon after dusk with a number of bottles of gin. As he went he advised me to remain in camp.
"You are not used to this country, lad," he said, roughly but kindly. "To-night there will be a big celebration and much drunkenness. When the king is drinking he is likely to be careless and things may happen that you would not like to remember. You stay in camp and I'll be back before long."
I promised Tuys to do as he asked, in spite of the fact that I was very curious to see what might take place. As night came on hundreds of fires were lighted and I could hear the Swazis beginning to sing. Every now and then shouts reached us, and there seemed tobe every indication that it would be a wild night. Curiosity impelled me to send Sibijaan out on a scouting expedition. He was also eaten up with curiosity, but wanted me to come along. However, I still remembered my promise to Tuys and would not go.
After a little Sibijaan returned, his eyes wide with excitement.
"Thousands and thousands of warriors are at the royal kraal," he announced. "There are great fires everywhere and every one is drinking tswala. The warriors are dancing and the king's fire is the biggest of all. The witch-doctors are there, too, and are going to make magic to-night!"
I was intensely interested in all this. It seemed a shame that I was going to miss it. On second thoughts I decided that I was foolish to have made the long trek into Zombode if I did not see the whole celebration. I wanted to be able to tell those at home all about it, so I decided to sneak out of camp and watch a while.
Playing at war had taught me to hide as much as possible, and soon I slipped out of the tent and started for the royal kraal. There seemed to be thousands of natives all about me, each band gathered around a fire. They were dancing and singing and eating, particularly eating. The Swazi always eats whenever possible, and a number of cattle had been slaughtered to provide a feast in honor of Oom Tuys.
I crept closer to the royal kraal and soon could see the glow from the king's fire. It was surrounded by hundredsof huts and many kraals, but I managed to get close enough to see the flames. A dense mass of warriors were on three sides of the fire, and on the other I could discern Buno and Tuys. All the warriors were dancing and chanting, and it was an awe-inspiring sight. In a little while the dancing stopped and two warriors sprang before the king and began to fight. I was close enough to see their actions and hear the blows when knob-kerrie struck shield with a hollow thump.
The fight was short. One suddenly fell, struck down with a cunning blow from his opponent's knob-kerrie, and a second later I saw the winner stab the prostrate figure again and again with his assegai. A moment later another pair fought, and this battle ended as did the other with the death of the loser. There were several more fights, each ending fatally. At each victory wild shouts would go up from the bloodthirsty audience. For a small boy it was a thrilling show.
After the last combat there was a pause. Soon the murmuring of the expectant thousands died down and I felt that they were waiting for more excitement. A moment later a number of girls, all naked, were led out from behind the royal hut. They were lined up in front of Buno and Tuys, and I could see the witch-doctor talking to the king. This lasted a few minutes and then the former began to dance, doing what might be called the "Dance of Death."
Suddenly he halted, then dived at one of the girls and threw her roughly to her knees. The others fellback hurriedly and several warriors caught hold of the girl and stretched her on the ground. Another man joined the group and the girl began to shriek, her voice seeming to echo from hut to hut. It was a shriek of utter despair, and I could feel myself tremble.
The man stood high above the girl and raised his right hand above his head. I could see the flash of steel, for he held a great curved knife. A moment he stood thus, the girl shrieking all the while. The crowd seemed to catch its breath and I felt as though I should choke. Down flashed the knife, and the victim shrieked louder and more shrilly than ever. It was enough! I turned and fled blindly. I don't know how I got there, but I blundered into camp shaking like a leaf and threw myself on my blankets.
Next morning Tuys told me, quite casually, that Buno had entertained him by having some girls cut open while they still lived. I then knew that I had not been dreaming. Despite Tuys's advice, I had seen something I "would not like to remember." Tuys told me of other things that happened at the celebration, and I am thankful I did not see them. They cannot be told, but for utter cruelty, cruelty of the most depraved and bestial kind, they are without equal.
That day only the women were about until nearly noon. The king and his warriors were sleeping off the debauch of the night before. Shortly after midday Tuys took me with him to the royal kraal, where we found Buno showing little evil effects of the orgy. Inoticed that Tuys wore his great leather hunting-coat with wide pockets, and I was surprised at this because it was a warm day. However, I soon learned the reason.
AN ACTUAL COMBAT IN WHICH THE MAN ON THE LEFT WAS SLAINAN ACTUAL COMBAT IN WHICH THE MAN ON THE LEFT WAS SLAINIn war the Swazis fight after a method all their own. The opposing impis, or regiments, draw up on either side of the battlefield and after much dancing, yelling of battle-cries, and other excitement, individual warriors dash into the middle-ground challenging individual opponents from the other side. These meet and fight it out to the death. The combats are divided into three phases. The first consists of fighting with the long knob-kerrie; the second, with the short knob-kerrie; and the final, which is the death blow, with the short spear
A TYPE OF DRESS WORN BY THE ROYAL EXECUTIONERA TYPE OF DRESS WORN BY THE ROYAL EXECUTIONER
LOMWAZI, SON AND PRIME MINISTER TO THE OLD QUEEN He acted as Regent to the Swazi nationLOMWAZI, SON AND PRIME MINISTER TO THE OLD QUEENHe acted as Regent to the Swazi nation
Buno was very agreeable and even joked with me about my poor shooting of the day before. He little knew how proud I was that I had shot badly. Tuys and he were on the best of terms and joked with one another, each boasting of his strength. Finally Buno ended the pleasantries with a challenge.
"Let us go to the rock, Oom Tuys," he said, "and we'll soon see who is the strongest man in Swaziland. This time I know I can throw you, and you will make small profit out of this trip."
"That remains to be seen, O King," Tuys warned him. "I feel stronger than ever to-day, but it seems to me that you are quite shaky. Don't you think you'd better wait a day or two before tackling me?"
"No, no! Now is the time!" declared Buno most emphatically. "If you cannot wrestle any better than you shot yesterday, I shall have little trouble in throwing you."
This was all very interesting to me. I felt that I would like to be big enough to wrestle Buno and break his neck. However, he and Tuys seemed to be very joyful over the coming match and there was no ill feeling between them.
After Tuys and Buno had had several drinks, we all started out for the rock. I had heard of this rock before. It was a great flat-topped slab on which Buno was accustomedto sleep during the hottest hours of the day. The Swazis call it "The King's Couch," and Buno would bask on it while the sun blazed down on his naked body with all the fire of mid-summer.
Tuys had several of his servants with him, each one carrying a small but very heavy canvas sack. I asked him what these were, but he told me to wait and I would see. The rock was about a quarter of a mile from the royal kraal, and we soon reached it.
Then came the unexpected, which invariably happened where Tuys was concerned. We climbed upon the rock and while Buno and the rest of us looked on, Oom Tuys slit the canvas sacks and poured two thousand sovereigns on the rock!
The gold made quite a large pile and shone brightly in the warm sun. Tuys counted it, with Buno seeming to keep careful check on him. Finally the count was finished and they agreed that it was all there—two thousand glittering gold pieces!
"Now we shall wrestle for it," said Buno, pointing to the gold. "We'll soon see who is the better man, who is the strongest man in Swaziland. Come on, Oom Tuys!"
Tuys waved to me to get off the rock, and we jumped down to the ground. It was, perhaps, the strangest sight I had yet seen. There stood those two great men, waiting for an opportunity to get a favorable grip. Presently they began to circle round and round, eachtrying to catch hold of the other. The pile of gold lay between them.
Suddenly Buno rushed at Tuys. Tuys stepped to one side and jostled him as he went by. Without changing position, Tuys reached down and grabbed up two handfuls of gold. He was shoving it into the pockets of his leather coat when Buno was upon him. Buno forced him back and grabbed up some of the gold, which he shoved into his loin-cloth.
They were very strong men and the wrestling was the roughest imaginable. Each time one gained an advantage he would grab for the gold. I soon saw that Tuys was getting the better of it. His pockets were sagging with gold, while Buno, being practically naked, had no place to store what he was able to seize. The contest finally ended with both flat on the rock, locked in each other's arms. They tussled for a time and, as neither could gain the advantage, decided to quit. Both were exhausted and hardly able to get to their feet. However, they were the best of friends, although Tuys had most of the gold.
Then I understood the saying among the Boers that Tuys would soon be a rich man if Oom Paul continued to send him with the monthly payments to King Buno.
There was only a small celebration that night, although Tuys spent the evening with the king and much gin was drunk. Tuys returned early to camp and told me that we would visit the Place of Execution the nextday and then return to Rietvlei. I went to sleep full of anticipation.
We broke camp early next morning. I had expected that we would accompany Buno to the cliff beyond Sheba's Breasts, but Tuys told me that the king and his impi had left during the night. All Swazis walk whenever they travel, keeping up a steady pace that covers much ground. When we started for the Place of Execution, Buno and his warriors were at least fifteen or twenty miles ahead of us.
Tuys gave orders that our party should camp in the Valley of Heaven while he and I pushed on and caught up with the king. It was nearly noon before we saw them climbing the slopes of Sheba's Breasts. There seemed to be several thousand in the king's party. In a little while, by hard riding, we caught up with them. There were two full impis, in their midst a number of naked savages without arms or headdresses. I asked Tuys about these men.
"They are prisoners," he informed me. "We are going to see them die. That is why we are climbing these infernal hills. Beyond Sheba's Breasts we have another mountain to climb and then we shall reach the Place of Execution. Let's hurry and catch Buno!"
We found the king at the head of his impis, accompanied by several of the indunas, striding along over ground that gave even our horses trouble. He greeted Tuys affectionately as usual and had a pleasant word for me.
Tuys asked him why the prisoners were going to be executed.
"They have had their trial," he said, "and they are all guilty. They must die! I have said it!"
That seemed to settle the matter, and I asked Tuys about the trial and how it had taken place. From his long and intimate acquaintance with Swaziland and its customs he was able to tell me all I needed to know.
"Every moon there is a court at Zombode," he informed me. "The indunas are the jury and decide whether the prisoner is guilty or not. Prisoners are brought before them charged with stealing, non-payment of debts, disloyalty to the king, and countless other things, including witchcraft. When the indunas have heard a case they bring in a verdict of guilty or innocent, and then the king passes sentence. My friend, Buno, always decides that death is the proper punishment, and allows the person bringing the charge to take the possessions of the prisoner after he has had first pick. Many of those who will be executed to-day would only receive a whipping if they were in our country, instead of Swaziland. But Buno has no sympathy with law-breakers and I think he rather enjoys the executions."
After passing Sheba's Breasts we went down a steep trail to a little valley, and then climbed the sharp ascent to the Place of Execution. From the Breasts to the top of the cliff is almost a two-hour trek. On the top is a small plateau. From this to the bottom is a sheerdrop of more than five hundred feet. At the bottom is a short slope of broken rock.
The impis were drawn up in column facing the edge, with Buno and his indunas in front. We had left our horses at the top of the trail and now joined the king's party. After pacing up and down for a few moments Buno turned and addressed his warriors. He told them that the prisoners had forfeited their lives on account of their wickedness and it was only just that they should die. He ended in this fashion:
"But the king is merciful. These jackals ought to be killed by torture. Instead, I, Buno the King, have decreed that they shall die after the time-honored custom of our people!"
While he spoke I watched the prisoners. There were about forty of them, and every one held his head high, as though not afraid to die. Each bore himself proudly, more like a victor than one about to die a fearful death.
When Buno had finished there was a slight stir among them and one was left standing alone. With his eyes straight in front of him, his body erect, he walked swiftly forward. In a second he had reached the edge. Throwing up his arms, he leaped forward and was gone!
One after another the others followed. There was no hesitation, no drawing back. It was terrible, yet glorious! These savages, with no promise of a here-after which included a Valhalla or Heaven, went to their death like heroes.
When the last one had gone the silent tension wasbroken by the rustling of shields and shuffling of feet. The king then felt impelled to make another address. He had got as far as, "Thus do I, the king, destroy the enemies of my people—" when there came a violent commotion and a woman's cry.
Through the warriors dashed a young and handsome woman. She wore nothing, and in that brief moment I could see from the lines in her face that she had suffered much.
Tuys and the king leaped forward to intercept her, but were too late. She threw up her hands with a shriek and went over the edge!
Tuys and I were much excited by this, but Buno and his indunas seemed to be rather annoyed. Buno explained that women had done this before and seemed to regard their action as a desecration of the Place of Execution. After many questions Tuys found out all about it and explained to me.
"This was new to me," he said, as we climbed down from the cliff, "and I thought I knew all there was to know about the Swazis. But I never before heard about women throwing themselves off the Place of Execution.
"Mzaan Bakoor, this is how it is. You know the Swazis are very strict with their women. If a wife, no matter if she be one of thirty or forty wives, has anything to do with any man but her husband, her life is forfeited. Also the child, if there be one, must die. If there is no child, she dies alone. It is the husband's right to kill the unfaithful wife. If he does so, no onehas anything to say and he is not held for murder. But he can do worse than kill his wife. He can refuse to kill her, and then she becomes an outcast and the prey of any one. She may even be killed by her people, for there have been cases where Swazi women have killed an unfaithful wife when the husband refused to slay her.
"Always, if she can escape, the woman will take to the hills. There her condition is as bad as it can be. She has to live on berries and what game she can catch, and her life is miserable. She is an outcast, and men who are caught going to her in the hills share her degradation.
"This woman who died to-day was the youngest wife of a little chief who refused to kill her when he found that she was faithless. She escaped to the hills some weeks ago and lived the life of a hunted beast. Finally she must have made up her mind to end it all. It is fortunate for her that she had not been taught by the missionaries that she had a soul!"
That is the moral code of Swaziland. In all the years I have known the Swazis I have never heard of its being broken without the death penalty. However, civilization will some day reach into Swaziland and then this code will disappear. That will be the end of the Swazis.
We reached camp to find the long shadows of the setting sun dropping across the Valley of Heaven. Buno bade Tuys an affectionate farewell and the impis gave us the royal salute as they started up the hill for Lebombo.
This was the first time I saw King Buno, and he left me memories that nothing can ever efface. I saw him again next year and was in Lebombo when he died and Queen Labotsibeni was appointed regent.
Nothing much happened on our return journey to the Valley of Reeds, except that Oom Tuys showed me how he could shoot. During the second day's trek we ran up on the high veldt for a space and jumped some springbok. They sprang up suddenly out of the brown grass, as they always do, and went off like a streak of light.
After one or two had escaped, Tuys told me to kill the next.
"Let's see if you can shoot like a Boer," he said, bantering me. "Let's see if you would starve to death if you were lost on the veldt!"
A few moments later I had my chance. My Mauser rested across my saddle when the antelope jumped, and a second later I blazed away. I made three perfectly clean misses. Looking back, I realize that the heavy military rifle was too much for me—it was too weighty.
Tuys said: "Poor Mzaan Bakoor, you will die hungry. Now watch me get the next!"
And he did. His rifle was in its sheath, barrel under his leg and stock alongside the pommel of the saddle. I never saw quicker action. The unlucky springbok seemed to rise with the motion of Tuys's arm as he snapped his Mauser out of its case to his shoulder, all in one motion. On its fourth or fifth jump the antelopemet the dum-dum bullet and dropped. Its back was broken and the knife did the rest.
"That is the way a Boer shoots!" Tuys boasted. "If you miss your meat, you go hungry. Your rifle must follow the springbok when he jumps, and you get him at the top of his leap. He cannot change direction in the air and you pull your trigger softly so that your aim is not broken. If you jerk, as you did a minute ago, you miss. Remember that, lad!"
As we rode into Rietvlei on the last day Tuys gave me a serious talking to. He was worried over what I had seen at Lebombo.
"You know that we have seen some things at Buno's kraal that must not be told," he cautioned me. "The British, and even our own people, would be much excited if they heard that you had given a rifle to Buno. They would hold you and me accountable for the men he killed in the shooting match. Also, they would ask many questions about the women who were killed that night I made you stay in camp. They would think that the gin we gave Buno made him do these things, and we would have much trouble.
"You must not know anything about these things. When you tell about your trip, you must only tell things that will not make trouble. If you don't, I will never take you with me again. What's more, I'll tell Buno, and he will kill you if you ever go to Swaziland again!
"Slim Gert will ask you questions, and your mother,too. If any of your brothers are at home, they will want to know about your trip. Now remember, you must only tell the things that are safe to tell."
He also advised me to threaten Sibijaan with everything under the sun if he talked too much. His own servants he was not afraid of—they had been with him before and knew what would happen to them if they talked. I told Sibijaan what to expect if he talked, and he promised to tell nothing. He kept his promise about as well as might have been expected of a kaffir.
Mother and father were at home when we reached Rietvlei, and were very glad to see me back. I was glad to again look out on the peaceful green fields of our wonderful farm, but keenly disappointed that I dared not give a true account of our adventures. It was some story for a small boy to have to bottle up!
After supper my father sent for me, and I went to his office in the wing of the house which he used for administrative work. I had my doubts about the interview that I knew was about to take place, because my father has a way of getting the truth when he wants it. He is not known as "Slim Gert" for nothing.
On the top of his desk lay a sjambok, or rawhide whip. It caught my eye and he saw me look at it.
"Now, son, tell me about your trip," he said. "What did you see? What happened? Yesterday a Swazi came here and said that Buno had made a celebration for Tuys and you." As he asked the question his keen eyes searched my soul.
I was in an awful pickle. If I told the truth, Tuys would be my enemy for life. If I lied to my father, he would never forgive me and I'd hate myself forever! The cruel whip did not enter into my calculations, because my father never struck us. It could not concern me.
I hesitated for a moment only and then sacrificed my further chances of going with Oom Tuys to Swaziland. I told the truth. Father listened and seemed to be checking up what I said. He asked one or two questions which refreshed my memory, and I told him everything.
"Thank you for so accurate an account, son," he said, when I had finished. "I wanted to be sure that what I had heard was so. Sibijaan was here a little while ago and—" He picked up the whip and tossed it into a drawer.
Next day I saw Sibijaan. I asked him why he had told father about the killings at Lebombo.
"Ou Baas holds the sjambok in his hand when he talks to me," he said quite simply. "He knew lots about Lebombo already. I'd sooner be killed by Oom Tuys some day than by your father now. I could not lie to Ou Baas."
Neither could I, but nevertheless I upbraided Sibijaan for breaking the promise he had made to me that he would not tell about our trip. In fact, I consoled myself for losing my further chances of visiting Swaziland with Oom Tuys by giving Sibijaan a good beating.He could fight, but was not as strong as I, and the thrashing made no difference in our friendship. Of course the fight took place in private; it would never have done to let our impi know that we had fallen out for even a moment.
Later I found out that father had received some pointed enquiries from the government in regard to Oom Tuys's activities in Swaziland. He wanted to know first hand, if possible, what the "White King of Swaziland" really did when he made his periodical trips to Buno's kraal. The information, however, was only for his own benefit, since he would not betray one of our people.
A month later Oom Tuys stopped at Rietvlei as usual before making his regular trip to Lebombo. That night I was with father when he sat talking with him. I feared that father would ask questions about our trip, but he approached the subject in quite another way.
"I have heard from various kaffirs that your last trip to Swaziland was a bad business," he said to Tuys. "The government also has asked me about it. Of course I know nothing, since you have told me nothing," and he eyed Tuys keenly.
"They say it was a bad business?" Tuys remarked in a blustering way. "Well, they don't know what they're talking about! Buno was only happy to receive the tribute and he may have taken a little too much gin. That's about all there was to it. Who the devil are those busybodies who don't mind their own business?"
Then he looked at me, but I met him eye to eye. I had expected the encounter and was ready for him. Father, however, realizing the situation, began talking again.
"Kaffirs will lie," he said, "and there have been a number of Swazis here during the last month. Of course I don't believe them, but some of the officials who have to create work to hold their jobs have been asking questions."
"Tell them to go to Swaziland and find out," said Tuys, laughing heartily. "They daren't go. If they did, they'd never come back. Buno would answer them, and they wouldn't worry about making any long-winded reports when he had done with them!"
Tuys knew that he was the only white man who dared enter Swaziland then. He also knew that the stories told by kaffirs did not carry much weight and would never be accepted for action by the government.
"It would be well, Tuys," father said at the end of the talk, "if you would induce Buno not to make so much noise when he gives his next party in your honor. His hospitality is too bloody to be healthy for either you or him."
Tuys did not question me about the matter when he saw me alone next morning. He evidently refused to entertain the thought that I might have betrayed him. If I had not met his eye the night before, however, he would have been sure I was guilty. He did not comment on the matter, and I know now that, in his daredevilway, he did not lose any sleep over it. In those days, too, it must be remembered that it did not cause much stir when a native chief killed a few of his followers. It was much more serious if he killed the men of another chief, since this might mean war and wars were always disturbing.
Tuys had nothing to say on his return from Swaziland, but it must have been a successful trip for I saw him hand my father a heavy canvas sack to put in his safe until morning. He must have done well in the royal wrestling match.
I visit Swaziland again—Buno's illness—An appeal from the king—The race against death—Umzulek meets us—The dying king—Buno makes Tuys guardian of his people—The last royal salute of the impis—The death-dealing puff-adder—Buno dies like a true savage king—Tzaneen, the royal widow, suspects murder—The queens meet—Tuys escapes the funeral sacrifice.
I visit Swaziland again—Buno's illness—An appeal from the king—The race against death—Umzulek meets us—The dying king—Buno makes Tuys guardian of his people—The last royal salute of the impis—The death-dealing puff-adder—Buno dies like a true savage king—Tzaneen, the royal widow, suspects murder—The queens meet—Tuys escapes the funeral sacrifice.
It was about a year later that I made my second trip into Swaziland. Father was away in Pretoria on business when Tuys arrived at Rietvlei. Very recently we had heard a rumor that Buno was ill, and I was very keen to go with Tuys on this trip. I felt sure that my father would not allow me to, but I knew that my mother could be persuaded to let me go. I therefore asked Tuys to take me.
"I am almost a man now, Oom Tuys," I said, standing as erect as I could, "and I want to go with you on your visit to Lebombo. They say that Buno is sick, but that ought not to make any difference, ought it?"
"Yes, Owen, it makes all the difference in the world," he answered. "You know what the custom is; if Buno dies, his ten nearest friends will be sacrificed. I am regarded as his friend and they will want me to die. Much as I would appreciate the honor, I don't want to die just yet. If they killed me, they would kill you, too. Do you want to die?"
I frankly confessed that I did not. This explanationof the situation placed a very different light on it and I was curious to know what Tuys intended to do. He told me he would wait a day or two before making up his mind, and I had hopes that some way would be found out of the difficulty.
Now Buno knew that Oom Tuys would be at Rietvlei about this time. He nearly always was, as he seldom started his trip from any other place.
Just at sunset, two days later, one of our Mapors ran in and reported that a small impi of Swazis was coming down the valley.
"I'll wager that is a message from Buno," Tuys said, and we went indoors to await their arrival. It would not have done for us to be caught waiting for them. In a little while, when dusk was falling over the valley, we heard many feet come to a stop on the smooth roadway. Sibijaan ran in to say that the impi had arrived, and while he spoke we heard the cries and the thud of feet that marked the royal salute.
Tuys sent one of his bodyguard out to see what was wanted.
"It is a great induna from King Buno," the man reported a moment later. "He says he comes bearing a royal message to his white brother."
"Tell him that 'The White King' of his country will see him in a little while," Tuys ordered.
It was almost dark before Tuys decided the "great induna" had waited long enough to humble his pride. Then he went out; and, of course, I followed him. Nosooner was he framed in the light of the doorway than the royal salute was repeated. He walked slowly to the gate. There was the chief patiently waiting for him, his men drawn up behind him, like so many shapes of darkness barely visible in the night.
"Nkoos, White King of Swaziland," the induna began, "I am the messenger of King Buno. He sends a message to you."
Then he stopped, awaiting permission to go on.
"Speak!" ordered Tuys.
"Buno, our king, is sick unto death," the chief said, with dramatic gestures, "He desires that his white brother come to him. By me he sends word that your life is safe and that he must see you before he dies!"
Tuys knew that Buno's word was the word of a king and could be relied upon. He waited only a moment, therefore, and then said tersely:
"I will come. To-morrow's sun will see us on our way." With that he made the gesture of dismissal. The impi again gave the royal salute and a second later had departed, swallowed up by the night.
"Get ready, lad," Tuys directed as soon as we entered the house. "At sunrise to-morrow we start. We travel fast and light, for I must reach Lebombo before Buno dies!"
I was overjoyed, but immediately my joy was tempered by the thought that my mother would have to know and might object. Tuys, however, settled that question for me. He went to her and told her that hewould be responsible for my return safe and sound. Tuys always had a way with him, and my mother sent for me to tell me that I had her permission to go.
"However, you must obey Oom Tuys better this time," she warned me. "I know that you were disobedient on the trip last year and ran the risk of being killed. You may go only if you promise me that you will obey Tuys."
Naturally, I promised. I would have done more than that if it had been necessary, for I was wild to accompany Tuys this time. With Buno possibly dying there would be wonderful things to see, I felt sure. I was not disappointed, as it turned out.
At dawn the next morning we were on our way. We had about the same equipment as before, except that I rode a bigger and faster horse and four speedy mules were harnessed to our light wagon, instead of six. Sibijaan drove the mules and swung his sjambok without mercy. For once he was not called down for beating the mules.
As Tuys predicted, we traveled fast. The induna and his impi had left Rietvlei during the night and started back toward Lebombo. We caught up with them during the afternoon. They were hitting a smart pace, with the induna in the lead. His plumes appeared to mark the cadence of their steps and they must have been making better than six miles an hour.
"Is the way prepared for us?" Tuys asked the chief."Does the king expect me? Are his men waiting for me?"
"Nkoos, the king waits!" the induna replied most impressively. "He bade me to tell you to hurry. The king dies, and must see you before he goes to the caves."
This seemed to satisfy Oom Tuys, so that he sent home the spurs and we all broke into a new burst of speed. The road was rough, and I would look back now and then to see Sibijaan swaying to and fro as he jerked up the mules and cut them with his sjambok. Tuys's boys, or servants, with the exception of his bodyguard, ran beside the wagon, holding to it to help them over the ground.
Tuys seemed possessed with the idea that Buno was really dying, and our trip became a race with death. It was very exciting. Down through the Valley of Heaven we ran, past kraals from which the Swazis tumbled out to gaze in wonder at us. Several indunas, knowing that Tuys was due on his monthly trip, tried to halt us to offer tswala or food, but Tuys would throw them a word and press on. This was on our second day's trek. On the first night we had stopped shortly before midnight, and then only to give our horses and mules some much needed rest.
By the end of the second day both animals and men were pretty well exhausted, so we camped a little earlier. We were up at dawn, and Tuys estimated that we would reach Lebombo by noon. During that last night's camp a small band of witch-doctors stopped totalk to Tuys. It seemed that they had received word that Buno was dying and were going to Lebombo to be in at his death, so to speak.
"Vultures! Carrion-eaters! That's what they are," Tuys remarked to me with disgust. "They are going to Lebombo so that they will be there to bury the king, if he dies. I wish Buno would fool them!"
As before, we passed Queen Labotsibeni's kraal at Zombode. This time there were only women and children there. All the indunas and warriors had gone on to Lebombo. Tuys asked a curious woman how this was.
"Yesterday, O Nkoos, the command came from the king that all warriors should go to Lebombo," she explained. "None but messengers remain, and these are now going on to tell that you are near." While she spoke we saw a small band of warriors swiftly running up the trail ahead. In a moment they had passed the turn of the road and were gone. In the brief glimpse I had of them I saw that they wore the broad white band that denotes a "king's messenger" in Swaziland.
We pushed on. Tired as our animals were, we made good time, though not good enough to catch up with the messengers.
As our party came round the bend into sight of Lebombo, we found three indunas and more than a thousand warriors of the king's own impis waiting for us. They were lined up on either side of the road and gave us the royal salute as we passed between them. We didnot halt, and these splendid warriors formed behind us and trotted along as our escort. It was a wonderful sight. Their nodding plumes and bizarre shields, with here and there the flash of sunlight from an assegai, made a stirring picture.
While yet some distance away I could see that there was an army gathered about the royal kraal. There seemed to be tens of thousands of warriors, all more or less in formation. When we came closer, a number of indunas ran forward to meet us and Umzulek, a brother of Buno, led us to the king. On each side of the roadway where the infamous shooting match had taken place the year before were solid lines of warriors, three and even four deep. As we passed up the line, impi after impi gave the royal salute.
Except for the exclamations of the warriors and the stamp of their feet, there was a strange silence. There seemed to be an air of foreboding, as though all were waiting for something they dreaded.
We dismounted at the king's hut. Tuys motioned me to come with him, and we stooped and went in. For a moment we could see nothing in the dim light. My first impression was that the hut was filled with people and was stifling hot.
Then I saw the king stretched out on some mats, with his head propped up on a small block of wood. He was very changed. His great body was gaunt, his face haggard, and his eyes shone with the fire of fever.
Buno gazed fixedly at Tuys for a moment and then weakly raised his hands in salute.
"Welcome, Nkoos, white brother of the king," he said in a thin old voice. "Welcome, white king of my people! I knew you would come. You are a true friend!"
Even in the dim light I could see that Tuys was moved. He fumbled his great beard and finally began to speak.
"Come closer, Nkoos," came the royal command. "Send my indunas away. I would speak with you alone."
Tuys motioned to the indunas to go, and they filed out. Then Buno saw me:
"Welcome, little induna," he said, his voice seeming even fainter. "Welcome, Mzaan Bakoor! You are my friend, too. You must remain with Oom Tuys and me, for I have a request to make that you shall inherit from him when he is gone."
Tuys and I sat close to Buno, and then I saw how little life was left in his once powerful body.
"Gin! Give me gin," Buno pleaded. "I must have strength to talk. Give me gin!"
Tuys poured out a large drink of the fiery liquid and the king choked it down. He gasped for a moment, and then went on in a stronger voice.
"Nkoos, my white brother," Buno said. "You are not of our people and therefore cannot die with me. You cannot have the joy and honor of joining the kingin death. For I know now that I am dying. Perhaps I shall not live to see another sunrise."
I felt that he was right. One so weak and emaciated could not live long. Undoubtedly Buno was dying.
"But you can serve my people when I am dead," he continued, "by continuing to be their true friend, just as you have been mine. I would have you make a paper which would tell all the world that you are the guardian of the people of Swaziland. When you die you can make Mzaan Bakoor the guardian. He will be a man then and will care for my poor people. Swaziland has many enemies—the Boers, the English, the Zulus, and others. All desire our land. You can prevent them from taking it. Will you be their guardian when I am gone?"
Tuys met the feverish eyes of the dying monarch and then his deep voice rumbled. I remember noting how different it was from that of Buno.
"O King, you have spoken!" he answered. "Your word is my command. So long as I live I shall guard your people and shall protect them from their enemies!"
"It is well, Nkoos," Buno said, his voice scarce above a whisper. Then he closed his eyes for a moment and rested. In a little while he asked for more gin, and then asked Tuys to call the indunas. They filed it and stood on each side of the recumbent king. There were ten or twelve of them, all the greatest chiefs in Swaziland. Umzulek, I remember, stood at Buno's feet.
After a brief silence Buno spoke.
"Indunas, I am dying," he said, his voice again quite clear. "Soon I shall leave you, never to return. I go to the caves from which none come back. Until now I have feared to die. I feared that enemies might bring evil days to Swaziland. Now, however, I go in peace. Oom Tuys, my friend, has promised to be the friend and guardian of our country when I am no longer here. He shall protect Swaziland from the whites and Zulus so long as he lives, and when he is gone, Mzaan Bakoor, who will be a man then and powerful, will act in his place. O indunas, you must look to my white brother for help when Swaziland needs it. This is my command!"
Then he stopped. When Buno said "This is my command!" his illness seemed to drop away from him and he became the great king again. The indunas raised their hands in token of acceptance of Buno's command and then all together said, "The king's word is law!"
For some reason or other I glanced at Umzulek. He made the same motion as the others, but there was an intangible suggestion of revolt in his acceptance. I had a sudden feeling that he would make trouble after Buno was gone.
"Once again I shall see my impis," said Buno, his voice again weakening. "Each day may be the last, but each day my warriors must salute their king once more!"
Next came an extraordinary exhibition. All but four of the indunas went out. Those remaining lifted Buno up—and I noted that they did it with ease—and half-carried,half-dragged him through the low opening of the hut to the clean air outside. There they laid him on a couch, facing the thousands of warriors.
The whole affair seemed rehearsed. No sooner was the king settled, his eyes sweeping the serried ranks of the impis, than an imposing induna stepped out and led them in the royal salute. Three times they gave it, with the sound of thunder in the mountains, and at each crash I could see a faint smile soften Buno's harsh features. He had lived a king and like a king would die!
Then followed a sort of march past. It seemed to me that untold thousands of these great warriors went by, each raising his arms above his head in salute as he passed. Before long Buno became faint again, and Tuys gave him a little more gin. How he was able to stick out this review was beyond me. I could not see where he got the strength.
Down in my heart I had a fear that something would go wrong and that Buno would show his savagery by having some poor warrior killed, partly to satisfy his blood-craving and partly to impress us. However, luck was with us. No one blundered, and when the impis had passed by they re-formed along the roadway and gave the triple royal salute. That was the end, and the indunas carried Buno back to his hut. He told Tuys that he wanted to sleep and would send for him when he awaked. This was our dismissal, and we went to our wagon, which was at the usual place.
I was very hungry and was glad to find that Tuys'sservants had prepared food. Tuys was eating and remarking on the condition of the king when suddenly an induna came running in to us. He did not wait for any of the usual formalities, but dashed right up to where we sat on the ground, chewing our rusks and biltong.
"Come quick, come quick, Nkoos!" he gasped. "The king is dying! A puff-adder has bitten him. Come quick! He calls you!"
We dropped our food and followed the chief at a run. In a few seconds we threw ourselves into Buno's hut. A number of indunas were about him, all very excited. He was breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on the smoke-hole in the roof.
Tuys stood by his head and said, "I am here, O King!" This he repeated three or four times, the last time in a fair shout, before Buno looked at him. For a moment the king licked his lips and made as though to speak. Finally the words came:
"I am going now, Nkoos! I am as good as dead!" he cried, his voice shrill in its weakness. "The snake has done what the fever failed to do—the snake has given me release!"
Then he shook as though with a violent chill. His hands opened and shut convulsively and his head rolled from side to side. After a moment he became still and began speaking again. I could see that his body had begun to swell; he looked bloated.
"It is the end!" he croaked. "I die! I die!... Theking dies! But the king will die like a man! The king will die on his feet, like a warrior!"
With superhuman strength he heaved himself up and sat bolt upright. Tuys and several of the indunas sprang to his aid, and in a moment they had him on his feet. His legs seemed perfectly stiff.
"Let go! Let go!" he cried. "I am a man and will meet death face to face!"
They took their hands off him, and he stood swaying back and forth, his mouth working as he tried to speak. The light from the smoke-hole struck him on the head and deepened the lines of his face, throwing heavy shadows under the eyes and chin. These shadows intensified the cruelty of his face, and I felt a cold shudder. Buno dying was even more terrible than Buno killing!
He must have stood for a moment only, but it seemed an age to me. His rolling eyes passed from chief to chief and his shaking right hand tore an assegai from the nearest. Then the end!
Raising himself on his toes, his body straight and head thrown back, he threw both hands up and brought the spear down with a vicious stabbing motion.
"Soukbulala! Soukbulala!" he shouted, and pitched forward dead. Tuys, I remember, almost caught him as he fell. Later I learned that his last cry was the war-shout of the Swazis. It means "I'll kill you!"
"He died as he lived," Tuys said to me in Dutch outof the corner of his mouth, while he leaned down and turned Buno over. Then he assisted the indunas in laying him out with his head on the block and a wonderful fur robe over his wasted body.
When this was completed the indunas stepped back and gave their dead king the royal salute. A moment later one of them stepped out of the hut and raised his deep voice in a solemn shout.
"Nkoos ou pelela! E' Buno impela e baba amaswazi ou pelela guti!" he cried. This he repeated over and over until it became a sort of chant. It was the announcement of Buno's death and, translated, was about as follows, "The king is dead! Buno the Great, the father of his people, is dead!"
We got out of the hut as soon as we could, and found the natives running from all directions. Soon there was a great mob. They were quiet, but each seemed apprehensive. Their voices rose in a subdued murmur. As I watched, it occurred to me that I did not see Umzulek anywhere. It seemed queer that the king's brother should not be there.
Then came cries of "The queen! The queen! Tzaneen! Tzaneen!" and I could see the crowd split, leaving a wide passageway. Down the alley came a score of splendid warriors, in their midst the finest looking woman I had yet seen. She walked with head erect and steady tread, exactly as a queen should carry herself.
"It's Tzaneen, the queen," Tuys said, catching meby the arm. She is the queen, and her unborn child will be the ruler of Swaziland. Watch closely now."
She stopped short in front of us and saluted Tuys. She was about six feet tall and was a most imposing figure.
"Nkoos, is it true that Buno is dead?" she asked in a level voice.
"Nkosikaas, the king is dead," Tuys replied. "His body lies within. A snake killed him."
"How did the snake come to his kraal?" Tzaneen asked, eyeing Tuys keenly. "Did that snake come on two feet?"
This was a new idea. It had not occurred to me to question the manner in which the snake had reached the hut. With all the warriors about, even though they may have been taking their midday sleep, it seemed very peculiar that the puff-adder should have been able to reach Buno without being seen and killed. Again I found myself asking for Umzulek.
"I cannot tell how the snake came to the king," Tuys said, in answer to Tzaneen's questions. "I was at my camp when word was brought that Buno was dying."
Tzaneen then stooped and entered the hut, followed by several other women whom I took to be her personal attendants or maids. We remained outside. It was not fitting that white men should see the Zulu princess, queen of Swaziland, with her dead king.
No sooner had she entered the hut than the voices of the crowd rose in expectancy. I looked around to seeanother party coming up the rapidly formed passageway. There were more warriors in this party than the other, and again I could see a woman at the head of several others. As she passed, the people saluted. They had not done so before, and this struck me as queer.
When the party came closer I could see that it was Queen Labotsibeni, the mother of the dead king. At her right hand was the missing Umzulek. She seemed much agitated, but he strode along quite cheerfully.
Tuys stepped forward to meet the old queen. There was the usual salutation, and she asked, "My son, the king, is dead?"
"Yes, Nkosikaas, it is so," Tuys assured her.
They stood silent for a moment, and then quite suddenly Queen Tzaneen joined the group. I had been watching Labotsibeni so intently that I did not see her come out of the hut.
The two queens stood looking at one another, each waiting for the other to salute. Umzulek, behind the old queen, was watching Tzaneen, and I had a feeling that something was about to happen. I could see that Tuys was interested and saw him shift his feet, his right hand carelessly resting on the butt of his revolver. He, too, was watching Umzulek. Finally Tzaneen spoke.
"Queen Mother," she said, addressing Labotsibeni, "Our king is dead! You have lost your son and I my husband, the father of my unborn child, who is to be king of Swaziland."
"What if your child be a woman?" snapped back the old queen, who had evidently been thinking along practical lines. "Who is to rule Swaziland until your child is born?"
"I am the queen!" said Tzaneen, drawing herself up until she looked it and gazing fixedly at the old queen.
Labotsibeni met her eyes without flinching, and then without another word pushed by her and entered the hut where her son's body lay. Tzaneen, calling her people to her, strode through the crowd. As she went, they gave her the royal salute. It looked as though the people were acknowledging her as their ruler.
Tuys and I stood back during the brief exchange between the queens. It was none of our business, of course, but he was keenly interested and did not miss a word. We decided that we were not wanted at the royal kraal about this time and went back to our camp. The day was dying, anyway, and Tuys said he thought it would be dangerous to be abroad that night.
"When the fires are lighted to-night," Tuys told me as soon as we reached camp, "the witch-doctors will kill the ten indunas chosen to die with the king. We shall not go and see this. When the council chose these men, I was to be the first man killed, because I was a friend of Buno. Umzulek was one of his council and I don't trust him. Buno ordered that I was not to be killed because I was white, but accidents happen in Swaziland, as you know, and I don't care to take any chances."
This seemed good sense to me. Now that Buno, ourprotector, was dead, I had begun to worry about our safety. The fact that Buno had appointed Tuys as "guardian" of his people might not carry as much weight as he thought.
The royal funeral—The "thunder of the shields"—Not afraid to die—The witch-doctor's bloody work—What Labotsibeni wanted—The burial of the indunas—Rain-making and the "rain stone"—Buno's burial in the caves—Witch-doctors prevent our entering the caves—Labotsibeni sends for gin.
The royal funeral—The "thunder of the shields"—Not afraid to die—The witch-doctor's bloody work—What Labotsibeni wanted—The burial of the indunas—Rain-making and the "rain stone"—Buno's burial in the caves—Witch-doctors prevent our entering the caves—Labotsibeni sends for gin.
We had not been in camp more than a few minutes when an induna came to see Tuys. He said he came from Queen Labotsibeni and that she wanted him to go and see her. Tuys did not like the idea.
"Tell Queen Labotsibeni that I am here," he said. "If she wants to see me, let her come to me here!"
As the fires were beginning to glow in the dusk, the old queen came. She was accompanied by only two or three warriors and several women. Tuys gave her a bottle of gin, and she took a very large drink before they started talking. Like all the Swazis, she was inordinately fond of spirits.
I sat close to Tuys, feeling sure that I would hear something interesting. Labotsibeni did not want to talk while I was there and suggested that I go and see the sacrifice. She said she would send her warriors with me and thus I could see the ten indunas killed. This did not appeal strongly to me, but Tuys seemed to think I ought not to miss it.
"Mzaan Bakoor, you won't get another chance soon to see a Swazi king's burial ceremonies," he said. "Youhad better go." Then he added in Dutch, "Don't be afraid, boy. You are perfectly safe with her men. No one dare touch them."
So I reluctantly went. It was dark by this time, and it seemed as though all Swaziland was going to attend the sacrifice. We soon found ourselves in a great crowd, every one armed and in full war costume. There were no women, these being left behind to mind the fires.
The two warriors who acted as my escort were great grim-faced savages, both of them a head taller than me. They must have been well over six feet, and I had to almost trot to keep up with them. Both were indunas, and from what they said I gathered that a brother of one of them was to be killed at the sacrifice. Both spoke of his impending death as though it were a great honor. It was not until the actual ceremony that I was sure whose brother it was.
The fire in front of Buno's hut was a great blaze. It lighted up the scores of huts nearby and revealed thousands of warriors drawn up in rows, more than twenty deep, about it. By using Queen Labotsibeni's name, my escort forced our way through until we stood on the very edge of the fire. All about me I could hear the deep-throated voices of the warriors.
For fully fifteen minutes nothing happened, except that those behind seemed to press closer. Then suddenly a number of men dashed into the open space, each bearing a huge bundle of faggots. They waited, bundles on head, and an expectant hush succeeded thehum of voices. The only sound was the crackle of the fire.
From where we stood we could see the entrance to Buno's hut, standing out like a black spot in the illumination. While we watched a strange figure came out. He was wearing furs and feathers and wore a hideous mask. It was the head witch-doctor! Behind him came six or seven lesser witch-doctors bearing the body of the king. They straightened up, and a second later lifted their burden above their heads. At this the head witch-doctor threw up his hands and the entire multitude of warriors gave the triple royal salute. The earth fairly trembled when their feet came down. Then the faggot-men threw their loads into the fire and the flames leaped a score of feet into the air. The king's body was placed on the mats in front of his hut, the witch-doctors forming a guard on either side. This was the beginning of the real ceremony. Led by the chief witch-doctor, the dancing began.
Now the Swaziland idea of dancing consists of leaps into the air and incessant stamping of the feet. Soon thousands were dancing and the dust became a haze before the bright flames of the fire. I was probably the only person within sight of Buno's body who was not dancing. My two bodyguards were leaping wildly, and I noted that they were most earnest in their exercise.
The dance must have lasted five minutes. It was brought to a sudden stop by the chief witch-doctor, who threw up his arms and called a halt. In just as short atime as they had gone dance mad, the entire assemblage quieted down. The stirring ceased and I could feel the air of dread expectancy that showed the end of the drama was in sight.