DR O'NEIL AND COMPANIONS ARE RECEIVED BY QUEEN TZANEENDR O'NEIL AND COMPANIONS ARE RECEIVED BY QUEEN TZANEENThey had come to discuss the possibility of ceasing hostilities. As is the custom, she treated them to tswala and drank first from the calabash to show that it contained no poison
DR. O'NEIL, QUEEN TZANEEN, DR. SUGDEN, AND MR. CRESPINELLDR. O'NEIL, QUEEN TZANEEN, DR. SUGDEN, AND MR. CRESPINELLWhile Sebuza the crown prince was still in the mountains conforming with the religious rites on attaining his manhood Dr. O'Neil realized that both the British Government and Queen Labotsibeni were antagonistic to Sebuza and wished to repudiate his right to the throne
WIVES OF THE PRIME MINISTER TO SEBUZAWIVES OF THE PRIME MINISTER TO SEBUZA
QUEEN TZANEEN AND LOCHIENQUEEN TZANEEN AND LOCHIENShe was a Zulu Princess and is the only royal widow of the famous King Buno who had, in all, twenty-six wives. She is the mother of Crown Prince Sebuza. Lochien is her adviser in addition to being Sebuza's chargé d'affaires and commander-in-chief of all his impis
That night I became greatly worried over Dr. Sugden's condition. The water he drank in the Valley ofHeaven had caused fever and violent dysentery, and he had rapidly grown worse during the last forty-eight hours. The heat during the day was severe, and it seemed to affect him so that he was hardly able to recover at night. I had given him medicine and done everything I could for him, but nothing seemed to help much. It was very discouraging to have him ill, because his unfailing optimism and ready wit had helped us over many a hard place.
Next day Tuys and I called on the queen, and were received as cordially as before. As usual, she was surrounded by maids and other women of her kraal, and it was interesting to note how affectionate they were toward her. She is the best liked woman in Swaziland without a doubt, and this is strange, since it is seldom that these savage women display any affection for one another.
We asked her how soon Sebuza would be made king. Her face darkened at the question and I could see that it touched a sore spot.
"Until my son, Sebuza, returns from the mountains this matter is in the hands of Queen Labotsibeni, whom the government recognizes as regent," she answered. "But when the prince is a man and is ready for the throne, perhaps there will be a change!"
I asked her what she meant, but she refused to be drawn out. Instead, she told us about her last attempt to arrange for the coronation.
"Only seven days ago," she said, "I sent men to seethe old queen and ask her how soon she would be ready to surrender the throne. She refused to see them, so they gave their message to Lomwazi. He told them that Labotsibeni would let them know when she was ready, and then dismissed them."
"When they left the royal kraal at Zombode many of the warriors made menacing gestures toward them, and they came back glad to escape with their lives. That is Labotsibeni's answer to the mother of the rightful king of Swaziland and the royal widow of King Buno!"
She was very indignant. After a little conversation, during which we complimented her, as was proper, we withdrew. I noticed that there was a gin-bottle in the corner of the royal hut and realized that Tzaneen was not different from other kaffir royalty.
Sugden was very low when we returned. He was the finest sort of patient, however, for the worse became his physical condition, the more determined he was that he would live. He kept murmuring, "Don't give up the ship!" but I could see that he would hardly last until morning.
I called Crespinell and Rossman into my tent and explained how sick the doctor was, telling them that I feared he did not have a chance. His cheery way of looking at things had fooled them, and they were shocked when I told them that I did not expect we would have him with us much longer.
"I've done everything for him that I can," I explained, "but I can't get his fever down or stop hisdysentery. He is so weak now that it is only a question of hours before he leaves Swaziland for good.
"There is something I want you fellows to do, however. I shall remain with him all night and will call you if he wants to make a will or say anything. We've got to bury him like a white man, and I want you to knock a coffin together. Take some of the boards from the packing-cases and the big wagon and fix a decent sort of box. Don't do any hammering where he might hear you, because he's keyed up and might suspect what you were doing."
A few minutes later I saw them sneaking off among the trees, with several of the black boys loaded down with boards. We were all blue over Sugden's illness and the thought that he was dying cast a gloom over the party that nothing could lift.
That was a bad night. Sugden seemed to get weaker and weaker, and soon I was keeping him alive with brandy. Tuys and I sat beside him in turn, and the old Boer was as distressed as the rest of us.
"He is such a fighting devil," he said in a whisper, when I came to relieve him shortly before dawn. "A few moments ago he opened his eyes and croaked that he was going back to New York when this expedition was over and have 'one hell of a time.' I told him that I'd go with him, and he began to tell me what we'd do. Right in the middle of a sentence he fainted through weakness. When I brought him to with brandy, he opened his eyes and smiled at me!"
Dawn found Sugden still hanging on. I marveled at the vitality of the man. His body was wasted to a mere shell, but his courage burned bright and undiminished. Shortly after sun-up I realized that he was likely to live another day, but that seemed the most we could hope for.
While I was at breakfast an induna came from Lochien with word that Sebuza had left the mountains and was on his way to Lebombo. This was exciting news, and I went over to the royal kraal to get details. Lochien told me that the sanctification ceremonies were over and that the crown prince was to arrive that morning.
"We are almost afraid to see him, Nkoos," he said. "He is now ready for the coronation and will expect us to have all things waiting for him."
I could see that Tzaneen and her trusted vizier were in a nervous condition. Sebuza was a reckless, impatient young savage and would be much put out at any delay. The royal kraal was in a ferment of excitement, and the warriors in Sebuza's kraal were chanting and dancing in preparation for the welcome to their commander.
I returned to the wagons, realizing that, being a white man and an outsider, I was not wanted at the royal kraal when Sebuza arrived. I would see him when he sent for me, but until then I must remain quiet and control my impatience.
Shortly before noon I saw the impis of both Tzaneen and Sebuza forming in lines outside the kraals. Theywere dressed in their most gorgeous costumes. The indunas and leaders wore the leopardskin cloaks, and all had on their great plumed headdresses. I felt that Sebuza must be close at hand, and it was not more than fifteen minutes before both impis began to dance. This they continued for a short time, and then came to a sudden stop. There was utter silence and at length I saw the crown prince striding down the road, followed by at least a dozen witch-doctors. These halted some distance behind.
Sebuza came to a stop in front of his impi and raised his hands. Instantly the thousand warriors raised their shields and war-clubs above their heads and the deep-throated shout "Nkoos!" rang out. This was followed by the thunder of their feet and then the air was split by the shrill whistle. Three times they gave the royal salute, Sebuza standing like a statue.
Then, strutting like a turkey-cock, the young prince passed through his men into his kraal. The witch-doctors followed, and then the indunas went in. Finally his warriors broke ranks and this concluded the homecoming of the son of Buno.
The impi of Tzaneen still remained on duty in front of the royal kraal, and I waited to see what they would do. In a little while I saw Lochien go into the prince's kraal, and shortly after he and Sebuza came out together. Sebuza pointed to our wagons, and I could see Lochien telling him about us. Then they went to the queen's kraal and her warriors gave Sebuza the royalsalute, which he received in the same manner as before, standing motionless before them.
After Sebuza had entered the kraal the impi dispersed. I returned to Sugden's side, to find him wide awake and talking faintly. He seemed weaker than before, and I expected he would cease speaking forever any moment. Crespinell and Rossman were with him, and he was trying to tell them some of the stories of the Far North which he had seen acted out when he was a surgeon in the Northwest Mounted Police. His grip on life was extraordinary. Here he was living over in spirit the wild days in the frozen North, while his body was practically dead and his coffin lay behind the wagon!
I was standing thus, quite overcome by the situation, when Sibijaan pulled my sleeve.
"Ou Baas, Lochien is here and wants to talk to you," he said. "He has a message from the queen."
Outside I found the induna dressed up in his war costume and carrying his arms. He greeted me very formally and then told me that Tzaneen wished me to attend a conference between Sebuza and herself, asking me to bring Oom Tuys along. After delivering his message Lochien unbent and we had a few words together concerning Sebuza. He informed me that the prince was much annoyed that his throne was not ready and was eager to pay an armed visit to Labotsibeni.
Tuys and I were received with royal honors when we reached the queen's kraal. There was the usual delay in observing the proper formalities, and then we enteredthe royal hut, to find Sebuza sitting by his mother. Tzaneen was as cordial as usual and seemed proud to have the future king by her side.
Sebuza, whom Tuys told me later was the perfect picture of Buno in his youth, was haughty and seemed suffering acutely from a sense of his own importance. He was wearing a peculiar headdress and several strings of the five-and-ten-cent store beads I had given his mother.
Since we were in the presence of royalty, it was not fitting that we begin conversation, except to receive and give the usual greetings. Tzaneen started the ball rolling.
"My noble son," she said, turning to the prince, "these are the white men who were the friends of your father, the great King Buno. The big one with a beard is Oom Tuys, whom Buno called 'The White King of Swaziland' and whom your father made the guide and guardian of our people when he died. The other, he of the shaven face, is Mzaan Bakoor, who makes wonderful magic with little black boxes on thin legs. The white men are our friends and come to Lebombo to assist in your coronation."
During this introduction Sebuza regarded us keenly, and his scrutiny seemed to satisfy him. When Tzaneen had finished Oom Tuys made a little speech.
"Sebuza, son of Buno and of Tzaneen, rightful Queen of Swaziland," he said impressively, "your father at his death made me your guardian, and I promised him thatI would watch over and protect you. I am 'The White King of Swaziland' and the government holds me responsible for all that takes place here. With my nephew, Mzaan Bakoor, I have come to see you placed on the throne of your father. We have pledged ourselves to assist you in every way, except to provoke war. We shall remain here until you have been made king."
Tuys said much more than this, but what I have translated is about the sense of all of it. Sebuza thawed quickly, once he had found out what we were in Lebombo for, and then we all had a pleasant talk. He asked innumerable questions and was much interested in what had happened at Zombode.
His answer to one of my questions was very typical. I had asked him how many people were his subjects in Swaziland. He thought for a moment, and then answered, "Mzaan Bakoor, can you count the blades of grass in a field?"
The interview ended immediately after we informed Sebuza that we had presents for him in our wagons. He said that he wanted to see our outfit and would go with us, and a few moments later we all left for the camp.
Several indunas accompanied us, and the stately head witch-doctor, L'Tunga, also went with us. I regarded this as rather impertinent, but was very glad of his presence shortly.
Crespinell and Rossman were much interested in Sebuza and were only too willing to gratify his curiosityconcerning the "little black magic boxes on thin legs." They took a number of pictures of him, some of which filled him with awe when they were given to him next day. I produced a box of the "jewelry" and presented it to him with a great flourish. He was fairly overcome by its gorgeousness. Soon he had bedecked himself much after the fashion of a Christmas tree and strutted about like a peacock. Tuys told me to "go slow with the gin," so I only gave him a few bottles. Strange as it may appear, Sebuza was not enthusiastic about the liquor, and later I found that L'Tunga had taught him that it was a kind of "white man's poison."
L'Tunga's "muti" cures the sick white man—Sebuza chooses his wives—I receive a message from His Majesty's High Commissioner for Swaziland—A flying trip to Mbabane—The Government refuses sanction to Sebuza's coronation—How witch-doctors smoke dagga weed.
L'Tunga's "muti" cures the sick white man—Sebuza chooses his wives—I receive a message from His Majesty's High Commissioner for Swaziland—A flying trip to Mbabane—The Government refuses sanction to Sebuza's coronation—How witch-doctors smoke dagga weed.
Sugden was wide awake when we reached the camp and despite his condition was overcome with curiosity. He could see nothing, being shut in by the tent-walls, and was too weak to get up and look out. Suddenly, while we were watching Sebuza enjoy his ornaments, I saw the side of the tent being feebly punched from within. I raised the flap, and there was Sugden regarding us with his fever-bright eyes. He hated to be left out of the party and had signaled for me to count him in. I went to him, but my heart sank. He was the sickest man I have ever seen. Except for his blazing eyes, he had all the look of a dead man.
Every one looked at us, and a second later L'Tunga leaned over me and asked what was the matter with the "sick white man." I held Sugden's poor head in my arms as I told him. The witch-doctor nodded and then straightened up.
"Nkoos, I will cure him!" he said. "I will make a magic that will make him well. I go, but I will come back soon and bring the muti."
He left, and I laid Sugden down and pulled the tentflap. He was exhausted by his effort to join the party and was nodding with the sleep that was nigh unto death.
Now I was very curious about the "muti" of the witch-doctor. I knew that their rites and rituals were all humbug dressed up in feathers, but every now and then they did something that was quite amazing. It was certain that they knew things about the herbs of their country that we white men did not, and I never felt sure that they were the fakirs we thought them to be.
In a few minutes L'Tunga returned, and this time he carried a wand tipped with feathers. He stood for a moment regarding us, and then went to the side of the tent and drew up the flap, showing poor old Sugden asleep but barely alive. Then L'Tunga motioned me to help him move the cot out into the sunlight.
Carefully, for this savage was as gentle as a woman, we placed Sugden with his head facing the sun, and then L'Tunga got busy. We stood back to give him room, and he certainly needed it. He started to dance and chant, circling the sick bed and waving his wand round and round. I could not understand what he chanted, but it seemed to be something about it being time for the "devil" to leave the sick white man, since he, L'Tunga, had come.
This ceremony must have lasted fully fifteen minutes, and Sugden slept through it all. I watched his breathing, for I was afraid that he would not live. The show ended with the witch-doctor picking up a handful ofdust and holding it to Sugden's nostrils. After a moment he threw the dust to the winds and then drew from his loin-cloth a small package wrapped in skin. This he undid, and then asked for "emantzi, emantzi," meaning water. Crespinell brought him a little mug full of it, and he poured all but a few tablespoonfuls on the ground. Then he took some of the contents of the little package and mixed it with the water in the mug.
I had been thinking rapidly. He could not hurt Sugden, since the white man was beyond all human aid, and was only living through sheer will power. There was a faint chance that he might do him good, and I made up my mind to let the witch-doctor alone.
A moment later L'Tunga had forced Sugden to drink the contents of the mug. Immediately he dropped off to sleep, as though drugged. After watching him a moment L'Tunga turned to me and said:
"At sunrise to-morrow I will come and give him more muti. In three or four days he will be well!"
Then, with all the dignity of a great civilized specialist, he shouldered his magic wand and withdrew.
Sebuza and the rest of us had watched his operations with great interest, and the young prince left shortly after, his indunas carrying the "jewelry" and gin.
We were all curious to see the effect of the witch-doctor's prescription, and had quite an argument about it. I found that Tuys was sure that it would cure Sugden, and both Crespinell and Rossman were inclined to agree with him. I remained skeptical and sent forSibijaan to ask him what he thought. I knew that my old playmate was in touch with many things that a white man could not know and I asked him about the "muti" that L'Tunga had given Sugden.
"Ou Baas, it is a magic leaf," he told me, "and only the head witch-doctor knows where it grows. They say it is found in only one place, and that is near Sheba's Breasts. He gets it when the moon dies, and always goes alone. But it will cure 'Mlung Emantzi Eenui. The 'muti' is only for royalty and some of the great indunas. L'Tunga would not give it to the common people."
He was so certain that the medicine would save Sugden that I began to find myself half-believing that it would. That night I sat by the latter's bedside for many hours. He never stirred. All night long he slept as though heavily drugged, never once making a move. Next morning the fever had much abated and his pulse was nearly normal. He did not awake, however, and when L'Tunga arrived to give him another dose, he only came to enough to swallow it. I noted, though, that the dysentery had stopped.
Four days later Sugden was well. He was weak as a cat, but food soon remedied that, and within ten days he was on the job and as cheerful as ever. I made up my mind from that time on not to scoff at witch-doctors. I tried to get L'Tunga to give me a little of his "muti," but this he resolutely refused to do, even when I offered to buy it with all sorts of things dear to the savage heart.Some day I am going to get some of that "muti" and have it analyzed; it may be a drug that will be of value to all of us who live in that section of South Africa.
During Sugden's recuperation Tuys and I had visited the royal kraal every day and had always had pleasant talks with both Sebuza and his mother. But we did not succeed in getting any nearer to the coronation. The queen was entirely at a loss what to do and Sebuza kept growing more impatient every day. As he was a man now, he felt entitled to start housekeeping, and his mother set about procuring wives for him. Lochien assisted in this delicate operation, and it was rather an interesting event. The Swazis follow about the same procedure in this business as their civilized white brethren. The only difference is that the Swazi method does not employ so much camouflage.
The fact that Sebuza had reached manhood and would soon become king was known throughout practically all the savage tribes of South Africa, though it naturally was of paramount interest in his own country. All the indunas and his relations, such as Umzulek, Debeseembie, Vilakazi, and others, knew that he would have to have wives. Their children were logical candidates for this honor, so that there were many conferences at Lebombo between Tzaneen and those who had daughters to sell.
Now the Swazi, from the highest to the lowest, sells his women. Women are the "pound sterling" among all the savage tribes, and the unit of value is five cows foran average maid who is young, sound in limb and wind, and trained to the primitive duties of her race. These consist chiefly in ability to do a decent day's work in the fields, the making of tswala, and the cleaning of a hut or kraal. Of course the care of children is considered important.
A Swazi's wealth is measured by the number of wives he has. The number of his cows and other livestock is secondary. For instance, Umzulek is regarded as a millionaire because he has sixty wives and more than two hundred and forty children. The average Swazi induna has five or more wives, and some have many more.
The price of a woman depends greatly on her birth and beauty. All the Swazi women have fine bodies, and many are very handsome, according to the native standard. Princesses sell for as much as fifty cows apiece, and a wife is always proud if she brings more than the market price. In fact, her importance as a wife is usually based on her purchase price.
When the time arrived for Sebuza to choose some wives, there were quite a number awaiting his inspection. The morning that he looked them over they were assembled in the "Sacred Bathing Pool," a sort of market-place. Their owners, mostly parents, stood beside the crown prince and extolled the virtues of their offspring. The maidens were lined up along the banks of the pool and the prince examined them most minutely.
It was almost pathetic to see how these dusky bellesbore up under his inspection. Each looked appealingly at Sebuza, much after the fashion of a dog that hopes to be petted, and almost quivered with the hope that she would be selected. The thought came to me that the rejected ones must face a hard life when they were brought back to their home kraals.
Sebuza chose five of the girls, and they were straightway sent to his kraal. The rejected ones were immediately clothed and their owners took them away. Later in the day Lochien told me that all the girls selected by Sebuza were exceptionally high caste and that between forty and fifty cows had been paid for each.
My companions were sadly disappointed over Sebuza's wholesale marriage. They had expected a wild ceremony and much savage celebration, but I explained to them that the Swazis did not go in for that sort of thing. There are no marriage ceremonies whatever—the man pays for his wife and she belongs to him from that hour until he dies. He may accumulate other wives, and this custom is so old that all the wives live together in peace, such a thing as jealousy of the white kind being unknown. From what I have seen of the toilsome lives of these wives, it would seem to me that their contentment is based on the old saw which sagely observes that "misery loves company." Another advantage of plural wives is that each additional wife lessens the labors of the others.
Although there are no marriage rites beyond payment for the wife, there are very strict customs in regardto widows. If the deceased husband is an induna of importance or a connection of the royal family, it is customary for the king to take his pick of the widows. If, however, he has no interest in them, the nearest male relation who can afford to keep them inherits as many as he wishes. Of course, when a husband dies all his wives shave their heads in token of mourning. As they have trained their hair to grow in a sort of pyramid, the hair is shaved clean up to this structure. Daughters of the dead man have their hair shaved right off; if they are already wives, this does not apply, since the claim of the husband is greater than that of any other relative.
We did not pay our usual visit to Tzaneen the day Sebuza married his first installment of wives. Instead, Tuys and I remained in camp planning some way to accomplish our mission and my companions made good their threat to learn something first-hand about Swazi life.
Next morning trouble of another kind occurred. A government messenger arrived with a communication for me. He had located me at Zombode, where they told him that I had gone on to Lebombo. This messenger was a Swazi induna with six warriors, and he carried himself with a good deal of swank. Evidently he was impressed with his importance. I know he snubbed Sibijaan, and my boy was breathing fire when he came to announce this arrival.
The messenger waited for me in front of the tent, with his warriors drawn up behind him. It was quitea military turnout, and he saluted me with gravity and impressiveness. Across one shoulder he had a small despatch-case on which were the arms of Great Britain in well-polished brass. From this he took an official looking envelope and handed it to me with a flourish.
It was a communication from His Majesty's High Commissioner for Swaziland, and it "begged most respectfully to call to your attention" the fact that I had passed through Mbabane without acquainting the government officials with the details of my expedition into British territory. At once I realized my mistake, and could have kicked myself for not calling on the Commissioner and telling him about my project. I knew how these British officials work. First they are punctiliously polite and request information. If they do not get it speedily, they remain polite but make certain definite demands. If still unsatisfied, they become annoyed in a polite manner and take "proper measures." These latter oftentimes consist of a "flying column," which makes it decidedly uncomfortable for the object of their well-bred attentions.
I read the missive from the Commissioner and for a moment intended replying to it. Then I realized that any reply would seem impolite and possibly evasive, so I decided to make a quick trip to Mbabane and make the laggard call on the Honorable Mr. Honey. I gave directions that the messenger and his men should be fed, and then had Sibijaan inspan the six mules and prepare the wagonette for the trip.
Oom Tuys was missing and I suspected that he had gone to the royal kraal. I went over there and found him sitting with Lochien outside the royal hut. The queen was asleep inside and several of her maids were busily engaged in hairdressing, a most important function among high class Swazi women.
I told Tuys what I intended doing and he agreed that it was the right and proper thing. One caution he gave me, however.
"Forget I am here, Owen," he admonished. "The British don't like it, as you know. If Honey asks about me, you will have to lie. I am not here!"
We talked in Dutch, and he told me that he would keep the kettle boiling while I was away and try to gain a step or two in my absence. He seemed quite happy and enjoying himself with Lochien, so I left him after he had reminded me that it would be a good thing to get the messenger and his men out of the camp as soon as possible.
We all started together for Mbabane. I had practically nothing in the wagonette and the mules were in fine fettle after their long rest. Sibijaan drove, and it was not long before we left the messenger and his escort far behind. The Valley of Heaven was as beautiful as ever and the trip a pleasant one. We arrived at Mbabane on the evening of the second day, having made better than twenty miles a day.
I stopped at the little hotel and the mules were turned into the kraal of the livery-stable across the way. Afterwashing the travel stains away, I reported to the Commissioner's office. Owing to the midday rest, or siesta, he usually remained at his desk until about seven o'clock, and I caught him shortly before he closed up shop.
The interview was typical of governmental business as conducted by such officials. My name was taken in by his clerk and shortly after I entered the comfortable office with its large screened Windows. Mr. Commissioner Honey sat at his English desk writing with a scratchy pen. After a moment he looked up.
"Well, Doctor O'Neil?" he said with a rising inflection.
It was just as though he had reminded me that I was guilty and was waiting to hear me plead. There were a dozen other meanings, all unpleasant, in that little word "well." I never realized before that one monosyllable could mean so much. I knew that he had me right, as it were, and I decided to act as innocent as possible.
"Mr. Commissioner, I received your letter," I said, "and I considered it would be best and more polite to reply to it in person than to send an answer by your messenger."
"Very good, Doctor, very good," he answered. "Now will you be so kind as to tell me what you are doing at Zombode?"
I did so. I told him all about the plan to take pictures of the coronation of Sebuza and how I was meeting obstacles which appeared insuperable. I told him thatI had moved my outfit to Lebombo and gave him satisfactory reasons for the change. I could see that my candor impressed him favorably. There was no reason why it should not. What I told him was the truth. Of course I related how L'Tunga had saved Dr. Sugden's life, and this impressed him deeply. He let me talk for some twenty minutes, and then leaned back in his chair and gave me some advice.
"If I were you, Doctor," he said, "I would not waste more time waiting for Sebuza's coronation. It is my opinion that this will not take place for some time, possibly a year or so. You may not know it, but the young gentleman is not in the best graces of His Majesty's Government and it may mean a long delay before official permission is granted for him to reign.
"Your expedition is costing you a lot of money and it seems a shame for you to remain in Swaziland with no chance of fulfilling your mission. If you will take my advice, you will return to Ermelo and wait until I send you word that the coronation has received the official sanction of our government."
This was a blow to my hopes. I had no idea that Sebuza would not be recognized by the authorities and it began to look as though my expedition were a wild goose chase after all. We talked a little while longer, but I was not able to find any specific reason for the government's dislike of Sebuza. Apparently there was a general feeling that he would try to follow in the footsteps of his father, Buno the Terrible, and the governmentregarded Swaziland as a sleeping dog that it would be unwise to awaken.
Our talk ended when Mr. Honey rose to his feet with the remark, "Of course you are dining with me tonight?"
I assured him that I would be most pleased, and he told me that eight o'clock was the hour. This barely gave me time to get back to my hotel and dress, but I made it. I got into my dinner-coat and fresh linen while I cursed the habits of the English. They will take civilization—particularly of the "dinner" kind—with them no matter where they go!
Dinner proved a delightful affair. There were half a dozen people there, including several of the minor officials and their wives. It was a gay party and the food was excellent, being served in London fashion by several silent-footed Indians. The thought came to me that British officials certainly "do themselves well." We talked about many things, none of them concerning Swaziland or its coronations, and it was a pleasure to have my worries banished for a few hours.
After dinner we played "bridge," and then I went back to my hotel feeling as if I had stepped out of an English drawing-room into the heart of Swaziland. At his door the Commissioner shook hands and gave me a parting word.
"Better come back and avoid trouble, Doctor," he said. "There isn't likely to be any coronation this year and you always run the change of getting into a fight. Ifyou stay, be careful! His Majesty's Government is interested in the peace of Swaziland. Goodnight and cheerio!"
PRINCESSES AT THE SACRED BATHING POOLPRINCESSES AT THE SACRED BATHING POOLPrevious to being offered for the choice of Crown Prince Sebuza of the Swazis
A SCENE AT THE ROYAL BATHING POOLA SCENE AT THE ROYAL BATHING POOL
I was rather blue that night as I went to sleep. It looked as though my voyages, privations, and trouble had all been for nothing.
Next morning Sibijaan and I set off bright and early. He told me that a kaffir had chummed with him at the kraal and had enquired whether Oom Tuys was with my expedition. Sibijaan had lied, as he knew he must, and then I understood why the Commissioner had carefully refrained from making me perjure myself. My only hope was that Sibijaan had been a convincing liar. Otherwise, the fact that Tuys was with me would make the Commissioner watchful of my activities.
On the way back through the Valley of Heaven I came to the conclusion that something had to be done, and done quickly, if Sebuza was to be made king. What this something was, however, I only had a vague idea. I wanted to talk it over with Tuys before taking any action, since his help would be necessary.
My uncle was waiting for me when I reached camp and seemed anxious to know what the Commissioner had said about him. When I told him that he had not mentioned his name, his pride seemed hurt, but he cheered up when I related how the kaffir spy had tried to pump Sibijaan.
"I would hate to think that the British have ceased to worry about me," he said. "I have had a good deal offun by teasing them, and I'm not ready yet to settle down and become a farmer all the time!"
There was not much harm in Tuys, but he was Boer enough to enjoy worrying the British and the fact that he was not wanted in Swaziland made his sojourns there all the more enjoyable.
Next day we visited Tzaneen, and I found that she was much interested in my sudden trip to Mbabane. Her indunas had told her that I had received a summons to visit the Commissioner and she was curious to know all about it. I told her why Mr. Honey wanted to know about me and then repeated his advice.
"Yes, Mzaan Bakoor, I know all about the government opposition to my son becoming king," she said. "He has so many followers that they are afraid of him. The British fear Sebuza because they would sooner have a weak old woman like Labotsibeni in Swaziland than a strong man and a son of Buno."
"How many followers has Sebuza, Nkosikaas?" I asked, for this was part of what I was thinking.
"Mzaan Bakoor, you of great magic, can you count the blades of grass in the field?" she replied.
Then she assured me that all Swaziland was behind the young prince. She further told me that this was the chief reason why Sebuza was disliked by the government and added that he had been impudent to some British officials. I had heard rumors of this, but had placed small weight in them. Now, it seemed, Sebuza must have over overstepped the mark and no reconciliationwas possible for some time. This, added to what I had heard in Mbabane, made me despair of accomplishing the object for which I had come to Lebombo. There was more talk along the same line and we treated the queen to a bottle of gin. This led to a peculiar incident.
That night Sebuza came to our camp and asked to see me. I thought he might have something of importance to communicate, but all he asked was that I stop giving gin to his mother! This, of course, was impossible. She was in authority until he became king and her request for liquor was a command we dared not disobey.
Sugden had spent the afternoon with L'Tunga and had watched the witch-doctors smoke dagga weed. I had forgotten to tell him about this and he was much excited over the discovery. With his faculty for observation, he had made a serious study of how the Swazi uses the weed and was much interested in its effects.
"L'Tunga took me to his witch-doctors' school," he told me, "and I watched them smoke dagga. It is a small leaf that must be something like tea before it is dried. Believe me, it has a 'kick.' There were about twenty of these witch-doctors sitting in a circle in their kraal, all hitting the pipe. They have a crazy way of smoking it, too. You've seen the pipe, haven't you? It's a great long thing, very badly made, and it takes a strong man to make it draw.
"The way they smoke is this. The first man takes a calabash of water and then drops a coal into the pipe,thus lighting it. He next sucks on the pipe until he gets his mouth full of smoke. Then he attempts to fill his mouth with water, all the while trying to prevent any of the smoke from escaping. When he can no longer hold the smoke and water in his mouth, he blows them out together. It is a sort of smoky shower-bath!
"Most of them could only do it once. Almost before they could pass the pipe on to the next doctor, they would keel over and go sound asleep. For some reason or other the smoke did not affect them all in the same way. Some of them became happy and began to chant, but they, too, soon grew drowsy. For plain unadulterated 'kick,' the dagga weed has it over anything I've ever seen, though it resembles hemp in its action."
It seems that L'Tunga did not join this smoke-party, but took Sugden to where he could see the common Swazis indulge in the same pastime. Not being allowed the great pipe of the witch-doctors, they had a method of their own.
First they dig a little hole in the ground. Next a narrow trench is scraped out of the earth leading from this hole to another of about the same size. At the bottom of this trench is placed a freshly cut stick, and this is buried in the hard soil by covering it with wet clay. When the clay is firmly packed the stick is drawn out, leaving a little tunnel. Then clay is used to build a small mound over the second hole, through which an opening is made which connects it with the little tunnel.This is the mouthpiece of the pipe, the tunnel is the stem, and the first hole is the bowl.
"The Swazis filled the hole with dagga weed and lighted it with a hot cinder from the fire in front of the kraal," Sugden concluded. "Then, one by one, they sucked the smoke through the mouthpiece. They used the water method, also. It was an amazing sight! One after another they would fall over, the next man at the pipe usually having to drag the body of the last one out of the way."
I had seen these dagga orgies before and knew what they were like. Sugden, however, thought it a most unusual spectacle and would have taken a whiff of the dagga himself if he had been urged. His interest was purely scientific, of course, and he succeeded in obtaining a few leaves of the plant which he proposed to have analyzed when we reached civilization again.
Witch-doctors of Swaziland—How they brought a famine—L'Tunga's school of witch-doctoring—The "Poison Test" to settle ownership—The professional witch-doctor's equipment—L'Tunga decides a murder case—Some genuine cures.
Witch-doctors of Swaziland—How they brought a famine—L'Tunga's school of witch-doctoring—The "Poison Test" to settle ownership—The professional witch-doctor's equipment—L'Tunga decides a murder case—Some genuine cures.
Dagga weed was Sugden's most interesting discovery up to that time and it whetted his appetite. I pointed out to him that the witch-doctors' craft would be a good thing to investigate and he went after this like a bloodhound on a hot scent. We all became interested, and I soon found myself whiling away the tedium of waiting for the coronation by running down evidence of the art of "witch-doctoring."
What we discovered made me realize the wisdom of the government, which had recently passed strict laws against the witch-doctors. For a time L'Tunga regarded our curiosity as a great impertinence and did everything possible to prevent our getting more information than was readily available. Finally, one night, he grew confidential and told us why the government had set its foot down on his brothers of the craft. He did this chiefly because Dr. Sugden and I had shown him that we were "white witch-doctors" and thus had established a sort of fraternity among fellow practitioners.
"The bad witch-doctors caused all the trouble," he said, "and it was their own fault that the governmentmade laws against them. None of the doctors in my 'lodge' were guilty of these offenses, but we have to suffer with the rest. Like you white doctors, I cure the sick and drive out evil spirits."
I had not claimed to drive out spirits, but I am not sure that Sugden had not made such a statement. He always did things in a thorough manner and L'Tunga might have misunderstood him when he told him what healers we were.
"The trouble began a little while ago," the witch-doctor went on," when a number of strange doctors came among us. They were from the gold country to the west and they had many queer tales to tell. They told our people that they were fools to work for the white men and that they ought to rise up and drive them out of the country.
"I do not know where they received their learning, but they said that our people were as good as the white men and told them that they were fools to let white men govern them. Our people listened and became much excited. They talked of making war and there was much unrest. The warriors began to gather, and the Boers and other white men sent messengers and spies to find out what was going on.
"However, these strange witch-doctors talked too much and made too many promises. Soon they began to tell our people that they need not grow any more corn nor breed any more cattle. They promised that there would be a great rain of corn and that millions of cowswould come into the country for any one who wanted them. The people were convinced and sat about in idleness, waiting for the free food. The end of this was that there was much hunger in our land and many of the people starved to death.
"I went about when these strange witch-doctors told these lies and warned our people that starvation would come. But they scoffed at me and would not even bow to my most sacred charms. They said I belonged to the old order and that the new witch-doctors were the only ones worth following. For some time—too long a time—I had no honor and it was not until starvation came that the people again listened to me.
"Then the government learned of all these things and sent food to the people, so that not so many died. Some of the strange witch-doctors were caught and killed, but most of them escaped.
"Making starvation was not the only crime they did. So foolish were the people that they believed in them and for a time would do anything they said. Some of the doctors told them to commit murders and sold them charms that were to prevent them from getting caught. A number of killings took place and many women were stolen. When the murderers were caught and brought to court, they told how the doctors had advised them to kill and even named the number of cows they had paid for the charms that were supposed to protect them. When the government heard of this they became very angry and passed laws against witch-doctors."
L'Tunga was full of this invasion of Swaziland by these strange witch-doctors and told us stories about it for several hours. One was as amusing as it was illuminating. It seemed that two young indunas had a difference of opinion over a woman. They both tried to buy her and bid against each other, so that the successful one had to pay three or four times her market value. This hurt the purchaser's feelings, while the loser was angry because he had been outbid. The result was that the latter went to one of the witch-doctors and bought a charm to protect him while he unostentatiously murdered his rival. At about the same time the other induna bought a charm from another of these witch-doctors and started out to slay his enemy. Before they could meet the two witch-doctors compared notes and decided it would be a bad thing for them if there was a killing. The doctor whose charm proved valueless would lose prestige in the villages he was plundering. So they agreed to prevent bloodshed, and did so by proving that the woman in question was bewitched and thus only fit to serve them! One of them took her, and the indunas decided to forget their differences. However, when the crash came, after the starvation episode, they hunted up these witch-doctors and promptly killed them.
"I have never heard what became of the woman," concluded L'Tunga, "but I fear she is no longer in danger of being bewitched."
Before leaving us that night L'Tunga agreed to tell us everything about his profession—with reservations,I suspected. He invited us to visit his school where he trained the young witch-doctors, and we decided to do so next day. His invitation, he explained, included only Sugden and myself, as he knew that none of the rest of my party were "white witch-doctors." He was extending to us a sort of "professional courtesy," as it were.
We learned more about witch-doctoring at the school in a short hour than we had during all the weeks we had been in its proximity. The school was in a small kraal set apart from the others, and we found about a score of would-be "doctors" in attendance. We must have arrived at a slack moment, for they were all smoking dagga weed and enjoying it to the full. L'Tunga, nevertheless, showed us all over the place and painstakingly explained everything of interest. One small hut, however, was forbidden to us. He explained that it was the sanctuary where the charms were kept, and that if white men entered it, none of the charms would ever be of any use. "We'd put a curse on 'em!" Sugden tersely put it.
It was at the end of this tour of inspection that we received a practical demonstration of how a regular witch-doctor works. We were beginning to examine L'Tunga's professional equipment when one of the neophytes approached and with the utmost respect informed him that he was wanted. Of course we went along, and found quite a gathering at the gate of the kraal. In the center were two large and indignant warriors. They were all chattering away at a great rate, but all talkceased immediately when L'Tunga stepped out of the gate. He was absolute master of the situation, and the deference with which these common people treated him showed that they knew it.
"Why do you disturb L'Tunga and his white friends?" he demanded. "Do you not know that these are white witch-doctors of great magic and are too great to even look on such lowly people as you?"
Properly rebuked, the crowd dropped its eyes, and then L'Tunga quickly found out what was wanted. It seemed that the two warriors each claimed to own a certain cow. Instead of fighting over its possession, they had decided to ask L'Tunga to find the rightful owner by means of the "Poison Test." I had often heard rumors of this test, but had never seen it performed. L'Tunga talked with them a little while and arranged that the loser was to pay him one cow for his services in determining the ownership of the animal. After this was decided, each of the warriors sent one of his people to get a cow. While these cows were being brought L'Tunga prepared himself for the test.
We went to his hut and he allowed us to squat nearby and watch him dress. Two of the would-be witch-doctors acted as valets for him, and when he had finished he was certainly a striking and awesome figure. First, he was plentifully smeared on the forehead, face, and body with a sort of red-and-white clay pigment. With his black skin, this gave him a weird appearance. When sufficiently painted, he put on a magnificent headdressconsisting chiefly of porcupine quills some fourteen inches long. This headdress is known as the "ekufue" and is only worn by witch-doctors who are masters of the craft. The white pigment is known as "ocikela," while the red is called "onongo." Both have other uses which we were soon to learn.
To complete his costume L'Tunga wound a wide strip of antelope skin about his middle. This contains a large pouch and is known as the "uya." In it are carried a number of medicines and some charms. When fully dressed for his work our friend looked every inch a leader of his profession.
On our return to the kraal gate we found the two cows waiting. L'Tunga looked them over and said they would do, although he was far from enthusiastic. Sugden and I thought they were fine beasts, but it would not have done for the witch-doctor to have admitted this.
Then came the test. The warriors were told to stand together in front of L'Tunga, who knelt on several small but fine skins which his assistants had placed on the ground. When all were in place an assistant handed L'Tunga a small hollow gourd, or "okapo," partly filled with water. In this he mixed several drugs the nature of which we learned later. First came a form of "ombambu," which is said to be so deadly that birds die when they light on the limbs of the tree from which it is obtained. Then came another drug of the same nature, said to be obtained from the roots of the tree.Lastly L'Tunga dumped "onsunga"—a mixture of powdered herbs the ingredients of which we were never able to ascertain—into the gourd. Then he stirred the mess with the foot of an antelope. While he stirred it he chanted in a low voice.
During all this performance the crowd remained absolutely silent, as were we. The only noise was the lowing of one of the cows who seemed to disapprove of the proceedings.
When the "hellish brew," as Sugden called it afterward, was thoroughly mixed, L'Tunga handed it to one of the warriors and told him to drink it. Without hesitation the man did so, and it seemed to me he took a good half of the mixture. L'Tunga then retrieved the gourd and passed it to the other warrior, who drank the remainder.
Next came the climax of the test. Both warriors appeared to grow violently ill. L'Tunga chanted in a louder tone, while the crowd pressed close. Sugden and I did not know what was going to happen and watched anxiously. The warriors swayed back and forth and there was an air of tense expectation that became constantly more acute. Suddenly Sugden caught my arm.
"Look, look! He's going to vomit!" he said, pointing at one of the warriors. He was right. A second later the man retched and vomited. As he did so, the crowd cried out so loudly that I caught the words, "He is the loser! It is not his cow!"
L'Tunga immediately stepped to the man and smeared him with red pigment, placing it mainly on his forehead and arms. Next he turned quickly to the other and smeared him in similar manner with the white pigment. Then with all haste L'Tunga mixed "asangu" and gave some to each man. This, we learned later, was a powerful emetic and it certainly acted without delay.
When the warriors had calmed down they were rather weak and weary. L'Tunga directed an assistant to take the cow of the man who became sick, and we thus understood that he had lost in the "Poison Test." While L'Tunga was divesting himself of his ceremonial trappings he explained to us that there was no doubt that this man was wrong about the ownership of the cow over which the dispute began—if he had owned the animal, he would not have vomited!
"This is no country for a man with a weak stomach," Sugden remarked to me. "It looks as if a strong constitution counts even more here than in the U. S. A."
L'Tunga also explained that both warriors would have died forthwith, had he not given them the emetic. The mixture he had compounded caused sure death after a short time. He told us that he considered the cow he had received in payment not much of an animal and adopted the pose that his talents had been poorly remunerated.
By sympathizing with him in these complaints we made L'Tunga feel that there was a further professional bond between us, and he became even more willing toassist us in our study of witch-doctoring. When he had removed his paint and other marks of his profession, he offered to show us the stock-in-trade of a real witch-doctor.
"We must use many wonderful and powerful charms in our work among the poor and ignorant people," he said. "Many of them have come down to us from the old witch-doctors who knew much more than I do, and I know more than any other in the whole of South Africa. My father was a witch-doctor, and his father was one, too. He was the head witch-doctor for King Ama-Swazi, and his word was law with the king as well as the people. In his day there was much honor for a real witch-doctor and he had many wives. He was very, very rich. He was also very powerful, so that the king was glad to have him with him when he made war and governed his people."
I had already heard tales of his respected ancestor, but I regret to say that few of these reflected credit on him. It seems that Ama-Swazi allowed him the right to inflict the death penalty, and it was his habit to remove any induna whose wives he coveted or who might possess anything else he could use. In addition to these civic activities, this old devil added a number of new charms to the outfit carried by a professional witch-doctor and L'Tunga was proud of the fact that he had some of the original ones his ancestor had invented.
One of the most interesting things that L'Tunga showed us was his charm-case, or "uhamba," which allproperly accredited witch-doctors carry. This corresponds to the familiar little black bag carried by white physicians when making their calls. The "uhamba" he used was a tightly woven basket, roughly one foot broad, two feet long, and perhaps ten inches high. In this was a queer collection of charms. The chief thing, however, was the "ongombo", or small gourd used in divination. This was very sacred and L'Tunga would not allow us to touch it. In it were the most potent charms, and he exhibited these to us one by one.
There were a few rough images of wood, very crudely made but yet unmistakably representing human beings. They were both male and female, and were used to symbolize persons who were doing business with the witch-doctor. Then there was a lion's tooth, a horn of a goat, some chicken-bones, a pig's foot, and the hoof of an ox. More interesting than these were a chicken's head dried with the mouth open, which was used to symbolize a gossip, and the dried nose of a hyena, which L'Tunga used when he "smelled out" crime. There were a number of other odds and ends, but they had no special significance. All these charms played a part in various rituals, and L'Tunga told us that none of the would-be witch-doctors in his school were allowed to practice until they were able to use each and every one correctly.