Ruth Taylor and Her Mother. A White Child in the Midst.Ruth Taylor and Her Mother. A White Child in the Midst.
It was a creditable year's work and Brother Taylor deserved much praise for the ability with which it was all managed and the boys trained. No doubt some, on reading these lines, might say, "I could never be a missionary if I had to build like that!" "Where there is a will there is a way," is just as applicable on the mission field as elsewhere. It is surprising what one can accomplish if he is willingto be used. Every one of the men on the mission field has done excellent work along these lines, as the well-built brick houses and churches on the six mission stations at the present day testify. Some at first declared that they could not build, but, doubtless, today they look with surprise and satisfaction on the work of their own hands. In addition to this they have every reason to be thankful for the great amount of missionary work they were able to accomplish in the building by training and fitting the boys to a higher plane of living.
After the buildings were under roof, Brother Taylor, who had always desired to devote more time to evangelistic work among the villages, felt that his way was opened to attend almost exclusively to that line of work. Previous to this he had held services at many of the villages, such as Mapanza, Simeoba, Kabanzi, Kabwe, and at almost all the important villages near as well as north among the Baila; but during the year following he went out with his tent and sometimes spent two, three, and even four weeks at one place, so that he might have an opportunity of giving the people a fair conception of the Gospel. He spent a month at Chungu, near a large village, over twenty miles from the mission.
He had visited the place before, but the people were not eager to listen. At this time he pitched his tent a short distance from the village and informed the people that he had come to teach them, and that those desiring to hear should come to the tent at such a time as best suited them. About 8 A. M. every day a fair-sized congregation gathered at the tent and heard the Gospel expounded to them. Hehad some very good meetings at that place, and the people became interested sufficiently to request a school.
During the year he found many open doors and gave the Gospel to a large number of people who had never heard of a Savior, and there were urgent calls to start new stations in the needy places. How one longs to see some one step in at the opportune time and plant lights in the midst of the darkness!
While this work was progressing David devoted his time to finishing the new buildings and overseeing the boys at work. A dear Christian lady had sent out money for seats in the new church, and he began to make them, and accomplished this task well, and the building was furnished with good, comfortable seats. Some of the boys, in writing to their friends who were away at work, said, "We have nice seats in the church and we do not become tired when we sit on them a long time." A good solid floor was also put in, and this was tarred and sanded.
In November, 1911, we again had the privilege of welcoming Elder Steigerwald to Macha. He had lately returned from a furlough to America, and his visit was like getting a glimpse of the outside world. The Mission Board had sent out with him for Macha a large two-seated spring wagon with canvas top, something just suited for this country and climate. It was a most welcome and useful addition to our outfit. Especially since there are roads all over the country to the principal villages, this was helpful in evangelistic work and in visiting the out-schools, which were on the increase. The old daysof laborious tramp were more or less in the past, and a new era seemed ushered in. Brother Steigerwald put the wagon together and added a long, useful box in front. Four oxen were then inspanned and we tested it. It is indeed a most satisfactory and comfortable conveyance and adds much to the enjoyment of the work.
While the bishop was with us eleven more boys were baptized and received into church fellowship. The first ten were all standing true, so that our number had now increased to twenty-one. There were as yet no girls or women ready for baptism, but some were beginning to accept Christ as their Savior.
As the new church was nearly completed at the time of his visit, it was thought advisable to dedicate this also before his return. He gave a most excellent sermon on the occasion, and we were all strengthened by his visit among us.
The most interesting thing in Africa is the native himself; the more I see him and study him the more I respect him.—Bishop J. C. Hartzell.
The most interesting thing in Africa is the native himself; the more I see him and study him the more I respect him.—Bishop J. C. Hartzell.
I most heartily voice the sentiment expressed above. The study of the native is a most interesting one and worthy of the best minds of the age. The latent power and ability lying back of some of those crude exteriors is often marvelous, and the transformation often wrought by a few years of careful, sympathetic training far more than repays for all the labor expended.
From what has already been given in the preceding pages, some idea of the native character may be gleaned, and yet it is impossible to give in such a book an adequate conception of the nature of the natives. In fact, the only way to know them is to live among them, and then one can not be sure that he has the correct idea. The subject is so many-sided, so elusive, and above all so changing that it is doubtful if any one can tell all there might be given.
This twentieth century has produced three large volumes on the African native, which, in the estimation of the general public, seem to occupy a preeminent position among the many books continually written. I refer to "Thinking Black," by Daniel Crawford; "White and Black in South Africa," byM. S. Evans; and "The Essential Kaffir," by Dudley Kidd. The first is the work of a missionary who has spent twenty-two unbroken years in the heart of the African Continent. The second is the work of a politician who has studied the native problem deeply and sympathetically from a governmental standpoint and has given his opinions and conclusions in a clear and convincing manner. The third work might be said to have been written from an independent standpoint, and is by many Europeans in South Africa considered the best thing written on the native. One who has lived long in Africa might be inclined to differ with any one or all of these writers in some points, but they are all excellent and well worthy of careful study.
I was once speaking with an official who had had long experience in dealing with native problems, and whose opinions along these lines were sought after by others. I asked him, "Wherein do you think lies the chief difficulty in dealing with the native?" He replied somewhat as follows:
"I think it lies in this: that the native so readily responds to civilization and improvement, that he comes up to our highest expectation along some lines; and then we, forgetting the generations of barbarism back of him, think he should measure up to our expectations along all lines. When he fails us at some particular point we become disgusted and do not give him credit for the advancement he has made."
There seems to be much truth in the above statement and it has often been a help to me in dealing with natives. There is something else also whichmust not be lost sight of, and that is that as much as possible they should be dealt with as individuals. Too often the white man thinks the natives are all made over the same mould, and that the characteristics of one are the characteristics of all. He will often not take the trouble to study their individuality, and perhaps he thinks they do not have any. This is not surprising. Europeans often visit New York, remain a short time and then return home, thinking they know Americans, and can be found prating of how Americans do. If people come to such superficial conclusions about such a heterogeneous mass of humanity as exists in the United States of America, it is not surprising that one or two natives in the eyes of many white people stand as a type of all Africans.
The writer has had an opportunity of studying the natives of four or five tribes and has come into contact in various ways with several other tribes, yet she feels that her knowledge of the native character is in many respects superficial and unsatisfactory. It has this to recommend it, however, that it is gleaned at first hand from many years' residence among the raw and semi-civilized Africans.
We have tried to show that the natives differ greatly in their ability to learn in school and out of it, in their habits of cleanliness, and in their readiness to receive the Gospel. As there was a large number of boys about us day by day, we found that they also greatly differed in disposition, as much so as white people, and it was necessary to study the characteristic of each in dealing with them. They soon understand if the missionary respects andtrusts them; and they readily respond to such treatment and show by their conduct that such confidence is not misplaced. On the other hand, if they are censured for a fault, especially if they think the censure is unjust, they soon become careless and discouraged. On account of their secluded and simple life they, even the grown ones, are much like children when they first come into contact with white people, and they fail to understand why two persons should treat them differently—why two missionaries or two masters should not have the same way of doing things, the same generosity and the same dispositions.
Child-life of these dark-skinned Africans is in some respects not so different from that of their white neighbors, unless it is in its greater freedom. Until it learns to walk, the child spends much of its time on its mother's or older sister's back, tied by a skin with its face toward the mother. In the early days at Matopo, Matshuba once inquired how our mother carried us when we were children. We said she carried us on her arms. He nodded his head sagely and exclaimed, "That explains it. That is why your noses are long and straight and ours are flat."
Little Nurses. Mianda Village.Little Nurses. Mianda Village.
On the mother's back the child sleeps and coos and observes what goes on about it. Here it bobs up and down as the mother handles the hoe, stamps or grinds the meal, or goes about her cooking. Here it takes rides as the mother goes after wood or water, or on long journeys to visit her friends. Occasionally she removes it from her back, straightens out its cramped limbs, feeds it, and then places iton the ground to play. It has no garments to impede its progress, and so it soon learns to help itself, crawls about and picks up earth or whatever comes in its way and eats it, no one objecting.
As it becomes older the freedom is still greater, especially if it is a boy. There is no school to confine him, no hard lessons, no table manners, no daily washings, oftentimes. He runs, he hunts, he fishes, he plays often the long day through, together with the other little ones of the village. He has no clock to tell him the time of the day, except the great orb above him, and this he learns to read with surprising accuracy. As it sinks in the west, he comes with his assegais and faithful dogs, and with a rabbit or some birds, carried on a stick across his shoulders, proudly displaying his prowess in hunting. He makes bows and arrows, popguns, plays hockey and other games, makes clay animals, wagons, and many other things. In fact, some native boys are genuine artists, and it is a pleasure to watch them deftly mould animals of various kinds.
His sister will have her doll, made from a stick of wood, a corncob, or the like, and tie it on her back, like her mamma does. She plays at housekeeping, grinding, cooking, and imitating her elders, the same as her white sisters do. She is also expected to help take care of the baby and younger members of the family, as her brother is often expected to herd the cattle or sheep, for there are no fences to confine them. All of these children, however, often suffer from hunger, cold, and nakedness, and worst of all they generally indulge in many evils which cling to them and greatly retard their progresswhen light comes to them. They also become quite cruel and unfeeling about giving pain to animals and birds. Every accessible bird's nest is robbed and the young birds, partly plucked, are thrown, often while still alive, on the live coals to roast and furnish them a dainty morsel. When a bird is secured there is not the least compunction about plucking off all the feathers without killing the bird. Once, when I was lying sick in bed, the four girls staying at the mission came in laughing and carrying the fledgling of a secretary bird. It was about the size of a half-grown chicken, and had all the feathers plucked from it while it was alive, and in this condition it was still blinking with its big, solemn-looking eyes. The brother of one had brought it in this condition, and to them it was a good joke to see it thus.
As one enters the raw African's village and sees the native in the midst of his filthy and uncouth surroundings, lacking seemingly the very necessities of life, he readily concludes that the African is lazy, shiftless, lacking in resources, and exceedingly dull or he would have advanced further in civilization even before the advent of the white man. To a certain extent this is true, for even the native, after he is somewhat civilized and looks back to where he came from, has been heard to exclaim, "We must be the dullest people on earth. Others could read and write and knew something of civilization, but we Africans knew nothing." We need, however, but to look back to our own Celtic and Teutonic ancestry to see barbarism and illiteracy.
The African pagan cannot be said to be lacking inresources, however. He wishes fire and he goes and selects two suitable twigs of wood. Into one he cuts a notch and the other he points. Placing the first on the ground, he inserts the point of the other into the notch and twirls it rapidly between his hands until it strikes fire. At the same time he has on hand some inflammable substance upon which he places the fire and soon has a blaze. He can thus roast his fish or meat. He wishes cooking vessels; and the woman goes to the river and procures the proper kind of clay, which she mixes with water and works until it is the required consistency. She then takes a piece, and with deft fingers moulds it into a circle, and places it on a stone or piece of broken crockery. She adds more and more clay, carefully shaping it with her hands as she proceeds upward until the top is finished. Then she puts it aside for a while until the clay sets and becomes slightly dried, after which she carefully removes and turns it and moulds the bottom, and when dried she burns it. In this way she makes earthen pots of many kinds and sizes, from the dainty small ones, which are often nicely glazed and artistically marked, to the large, heavy beer pots, holding ten or twelve gallons.
Weapons for war, hunting, and domestic purposes are needed. The man goes to the hills and digs until he finds the iron ore. He smelts it and with the iron thus obtained makes axes, assegais, hoes, and other useful implements. He burns wood and makes charcoal for his forge. His bellows are made from the skins of animals and the pipes are clay tile; and the anvil and hammers are also pieces of the iron he hasobtained. He moulds, welds, shapes, and performs all the work of the ordinary blacksmith. If his hoe wears out he will take the iron that is left and shape it into an assegai bristling with points. With three or four of these and a shield made of hide, he will go out to fight his neighbor, or perhaps he will have bow and steel-tipped arrows, which he dips in a poisonous substance to ensure their deadly work.
Or, if it is in time of peace, he makes use of his assegais and his faithful dog and supplies his household with meat. If he has been fortunate enough to secure an old blunderbuss of a gun, he tinkers at it till it works. He may not be able by law to buy any ammunition from the white man, or even lead to make bullets; but he will manage in some way to obtain some ammunition. Perhaps the chance possession of a nail, or solder melted from a tin can, will, by a laborious process, be turned into bullets, for time is no object to him when working for himself. In the same way he will secure some gunpowder or the ingredients for it, either by barter with his neighbors, who have been to town, or elsewhere.
He wishes fish, and he will spear or catch them with hooks, or his wife will, with willowlike twigs and bark strings, make a long troughlike net, and as the water subsides she will supply her household with fish. Both fish and meat are dried and preserved for future consumption.
Batonga Fisher Women.Batonga Fisher Women.
The native wishes a hut to live in. He goes to the forest and with the axe cuts down poles and carries them home, and with his hoe digs a trench into which he places them. With some forkedsticks he makes a neat doorframe. Thin, willowy poles are also brought and split through the center, and one piece is placed on the outside and one inside of the poles of the hut, and with bark strings he firmly ties these together and thus secures the poles in their places. They are also fastened at the top in a similar manner, so that the walls of the hut are firmly fastened together, for of course his hut is round. With his method of building he is wise in making it round, as it is more easily done and stronger when completed. The slender, straight poles for the roof are fastened together in the same way. These are often extended beyond the walls so as to form a veranda, which may or may not be enclosed. The wife takes her hoe or assegai and cuts grass to thatch the hut. She also takes some of the beautiful long grass, and with bark string makes a large mat to form a partition to separate the bed-room from the living-room. They need a bed and the man will procure forked sticks and fasten them firmly in the ground as bedposts, and on this with poles, reeds, bark string, and animal hides he makes a bed. Skins may also be used for blankets, and if they should be lacking in these they build a fire or place a pan of coals underneath or near the bed. Some Africans weave blankets and some make them out of the inner bark of the trees; others purchase from traders.
The native needs a chair, so he goes to the forest and, selecting a certain kind of tree, he cuts a suitable block of wood. With his little axe he hews and cuts until from a solid block of wood he makes a very respectable-looking chair, or stool, varying inheight from six to fourteen inches. In the same way he makes spoons, stamping blocks, dishes, and other household articles. These he carefully oils to prevent cracking, and often colors and ornaments them. The natives along the large rivers make their own dugout canoes. A large gourd or earthen jar answers for a water bucket, one with a long handle for a dipper, a very large one with woven top is used for a churn, a long one as a butter receptacle, and a very small one for a snuffbox. A small piece of iron, nicely shaped and beaten thin, is snuff spoon and handkerchief.
A large flat stone, built in a clay receptacle with an earthen jar at the end, is the mill, and on this another stone is used to grind. The wife needs baskets. She procures palm leaves, bark string, reeds, and willows and makes baskets of various kinds: a flat one for a sieve, dainty little ones for plates for their stiff porridge, larger ones for grain, and still larger ones for reaping. She also makes mats of various kinds. Skins of animals do for clothing. They are so confident that this is the native invention, that one of the boys, in reading of the garments of our first parents, declared they must have been black because they wore skins. The girls' loincloth is made of bark string. Their clay pipes are often quite artistically made, and so hard that it is difficult to distinguish them from metal.
In all of these things just mentioned the native is in no way dependent upon the European; they are of his own invention and manufacture, except the rifle. It is not to be supposed that any one native makes all the various articles. There are blacksmiths,potters, basketmakers, and workers in wood, and the rest barter for or buy the things they need.
Given various colored beads, some fine and some heavy wire, a few buttons, shells, and ivory rings, and they are adept at adorning the body, at least according to the native's idea of beauty. In some respects the barbarous African's idea of ornamentation does not differ materially from that of her white sisters, the difference being one of degree rather than of kind. The American beauty thinks one or two strings of beads around her neck are quite the proper thing, and add to her charm. The African beauty will tell you that if one or two are nice, four or five are nicer. It is the same with the bracelets; the American belle is pleased with one or two on her wrists. The African is likewise, but she is better pleased with a dozen, only she adds utility to beauty and thinks that a lot of heavy rings around her wrists or ankles add to their strength and give her corresponding value in the eyes of the opposite sex. Then too she will tell you that her god told her to adorn herself thus, which is doubtless true.
What has been said of inventive ability applies more or less to all pagan Africans, although in different sections of the country they differ somewhat in their work. The Batonga, by whom we are surrounded, do not at present remove the iron from the ore, but there are many blacksmiths among them, and according to some of the old natives they were accustomed to smelt the ore. There are certainly evidences of iron workings in this part of the country. Brother Taylor made inquiry of an old native in reference to these workings. He said that manyyears ago the Batonga used to work them and thus obtain their own iron. Then their Barotse conquerors came and killed all the iron workers and told them to come to the Barotse and purchase their iron. No doubt this was done to weaken them in battle. (See 1 Samuel 13: 19-22.) In this instance the smiths remained, but they go to the Barotse to purchase hoes and pig iron. Since the old ones were killed, the younger generation were afraid to smelt the ore.
All the Africans brew their own beer. They also grow tobacco, which they both smoke and snuff, and they grow a kind of hemp which they smoke. Of course they raise their own food, and before the arrival of the white man some even procured their own salt.
As to the general character of the raw natives—for it is of them we are writing—we hesitate sometimes to tell what we do know. But the missionary, however much he may think of the Africans and enjoy his work among them, cannot, dare not, be blind to their faults. It has been said of them that they are naturally liars, thieves, and harlots; a hard saying, truly, but there is a measure of truth in it. As a people there is little or no reliance to be placed on their word, especially when they desire to shield themselves, their relatives, or even their tribes. Possibly a native may tell an untruth for the mere pleasure of it. This habit is so inbred that it is difficult to overcome it; and yet by careful religious training, and the power of the Holy Spirit, one is frequently surprised at the progress they make in speaking the truth under very trying conditions—thatis, when they are led to see the evil of the opposite course.
Thieving is probably not so prominent, but it exists, not only, as some affirm, among the half-civilized, but also among the raw heathen. Every missionary, who has seen heathen accepting the Light and confessing their past, can testify to the truthfulness of this statement. Many instances of stealing among them can be cited. I was told by a farmer, who was living in the midst of pagan Africans, untouched by civilization or the Gospel, that one year he employed about 100 women to gather his corn. He suspected them of stealing, but said nothing until one evening, just as they were starting for home, he suddenly rode in among them and frightened them. The corn which they had carefully concealed about them was scattered in all directions.
Stealing, however, is not as common as lying; for while there does not seem to be a strong public sentiment against the latter, there is against the former, for the protection of their property. Those who flagrantly disregard this are branded as thieves and are sometimes punished. I know one native who was required by his heathen neighbors to pay ten hoes for visiting their grain bins. Generally, however, grain, either in the gardens or in the granaries, is not disturbed by others, and one may allow property to remain exposed year after year and it not be disturbed. The white man's law against thieving greatly assists the native in the enforcement of his law. We have found some very trustworthy natives, and none who have been with usany length of time have proven dishonest, and they are frequently sent to carry sums of money without in any way tampering with it.
As to other forms of vice what shall one say? One European has been heard to exclaim that "their morals are as black as their faces." That they are dark no one can deny, for from childhood up vice in many forms is common. It could scarcely be otherwise when one considers the filth and degradation of their surroundings, where a number are crowded like so many animals into a filthy hut, overrun with vermin and parasites of all kinds. Some will tell you that there are none pure. It is true that the lives they lead give little opportunity for anything elevating. Then too their lives are open to the general gaze; nothing is hid.
But take the modern city; dig it up from the foundation; open all its cesspools of infamy, crime, and debauchery, and such a stench will ascend to heaven that everyone beholding will cry out, "Babylon, the mother of harlots and abominations of the earth!" And yet this is the boasted twentieth-century civilization. Shall we, then, say that there are no Christians in that city, or that there are none living good moral lives who do not profess Christ? God forbid! All honor to the noble band of men and women in our cities who, in the midst of fearful odds, are living upright lives and helping their fellow-men.
I believe I can safely say, from what I have seen and learned of the inner life of the native, that in dark, heathen Africa, even before the light of the Gospel penetrates, there are those who are moral and pure, although the number is small. Then takethe Christian natives; the life of many a one is a living rebuke to some who decry mission work, and it is too often because they are a living rebuke, that they are so fiercely hated by some Europeans. People usually find what they are looking for, and in Africa is no exception.
Beggars the Africans naturally are, and when the white man comes among them they are always eager to obtain all they can for nothing. They beg of one another; then why should they not beg of the white man, whose pockets are supposed to be full of money? Then too some of them think the white man does not need money to buy food, clothing, and other goods from the store. They will say, "You do not need money to buy things. You just write something on a piece of paper and send it to Bulawayo and the goods come." Experience has taught us that the greatest good one can do the native is to make him work or pay for everything he receives, unless it should be during a case of sickness or helplessness.
It is a common expression that the African is lazy; and yet even this must be accepted with a reserve and an understanding of his surroundings. Aside from the effect of the climate, much of their indolence and indifference is due to their smoking of hemp, a narcotic drug, similar to thehashishof eastern countries. This they grow, and it is a common practice for the older, and for even young boys, to smoke it. It seems to sap their very life and take away all the ambition to better their condition. Yet the native can and does work even in his home,when occasion demands. During the digging and growing season they are found out in their gardens, which are generally at a distance from the villages, from early morning until late at night, hoeing and watching their crops to protect them from the ravages of the animals and birds. During the hottest part of the day they generally stop for a time to rest and cook. It is useless to attempt much evangelistic work during this season of the year, except at night, for the villages are about deserted during the day.
They may, during the dry season, work for Europeans, but with some a short time of such work suffices, as their wants are few. As one fellow expressed it: "I have now sufficient money to pay my taxes. I only want to work long enough to earn money to buy a blanket and then my needs are all supplied." If they have food on hand, that is the extent of the ambition of some natives. They feel that then, during the dry season, or winter, they are entitled to rest, hunt, smoke, drink beer and palaver.
Frequently, however, they must build in the dry season, for one of their huts in this ant-ridden country lasts only a short time—perhaps two or three years—and then another must be built. This is no small task, but it is usually postponed until near the rainy season. In order to build, the native is obliged to make frequent trips to the forest to procure suitable poles and bark strings, all of which he must carry on his shoulders. His wife too is inclined to postpone cutting the thatch grass until it is nearly all burnt, and then it requires much more labor to find enough thatch than if she had done the workat the proper time. The rain usually is threatening, or even the first has fallen before the man begins the actual building, and then he and his neighbors hurry and put up the huts after a fashion. When asked why he does not build earlier in the season he naively exclaims, "Oh! I leave it until the rains come, so I must hurry and build it." In other words, he puts it off until he is forced to do it, willy-nilly.
As a rule the native is never in a hurry; he always performs his work deliberately. That is characteristic of the country, or climate, rather than of the individual, because no one in Africa seems to be in a hurry. We had our first lesson in this on the threshold of the continent. Just after we had reached Cape Town and had rented rooms, some groceries were bought and ordered to be sent to the house. They were very slow in coming, and we mentioned the fact to an American lady who had resided at Cape Town five years. She replied, "We are all slow in Africa, and in a few years you will become slow too." I cannot say that this has become true of all our missionaries, but this is the general effect of the country. The atmosphere, the heat, and the diseases, all have much influence on a person. To hurry and violently exert the body in order to complete a piece of work often brings on an attack of fever. Horses, mules, oxen, and donkeys are not as hardy as in temperate climates, and it requires several times the number to do the same amount of work, so that it need not surprise one that the natives, who, as far back as they know, have lived amid such surroundings, should be slow and indolent.
There are three natives in our nearest village, all able-bodied men of about 40 or 45 years of age. Two of them have four wives and one has three. Since the hut tax is ten shillings a hut, that means that one must pay thirty shillings (nearly $7.50) tax per year, and the other two forty shillings (nearly $10). They are all intelligent-looking natives. Two of them have been government messengers and know something of European life. Now they are at home year after year, for they seldom go away to work, because they are too lazy. How they secure their hut tax is often a query, and about the only solution that seems possible is that they beg some here and some there of natives who go away to work, and they may occasionally have a little grain to sell. Often they are short of food for themselves and their families. One of them at least has had his family out on the veldt, living on fruit and roots and what game he could procure, for two months at a time. These are extreme cases, and one must feel sorry for the women and children when crops fail, for they at least cannot go among the Europeans for work.
The natives differ greatly among themselves in diligence and training as well as in character and morality. While there are always some improvident ones, who live on the charity of their neighbors, yet some are exceedingly industrious the entire year. After their grain has been cared for they go to the towns to work and earn money, buy cattle and sheep, and in general enrich themselves. Workers in wood are always busy making articles to sell to their neighbors, and other artizans do likewise.The women also show the same difference of character. Some are always busy and forehanded with their gardens, their grass cutting, and cutting and carrying firewood to stow it away before the rains come. The same difference is to be found in the training of families.
In some of the homes the children are well trained along industrial lines, according to the native idea of training. The parents require them to work and bear a certain amount of responsibility in providing for the family and in caring for the herds. For instance, a number of our best boys came from a village called Mianda. They proved very helpful and skillful in work and became some of our best builders and teachers. Their parents were generally considerate when we had dealings with them. Sometimes we had as many as ten boys at once from that one small village, and the father of some would even help to see about his herds so that his children might attend school. If a boy was needed at home to help build or herd, the father would tell for just how long he was needed, and we might be sure that he would send the boy back at the expiration of that time. The children of this village were required to be obedient and work while at home, otherwise they were denied food. There were other similar homes. In the villages, even before Christianity enters, the natives look upon some of the customs of their tribes in various ways. Where there are large villages and many people, dances and carousals are frequent occurrences and much immorality results. Some of the parents forbid their children frequentingthese places of amusement on account of the immorality.
Again, from some villages boys would come to the mission, stay only a few days and then leave, because they were obliged to perform a certain amount of work daily. We did not try to coax them to remain, for we preferred to keep only those who were willing to work—the others seldom amount to anything. Go into the houses of some such boys, and one would see them lying about, not willing to herd, much less dig. Perhaps the father will say, "Go and see about those sheep." The boy pays no attention to the command. The mother comes and scolds him and seeks to make him work, but with no better result; yet when food is prepared he is the first one to be around the pot and no one forbids him. From these instances it can be readily seen that African family training does not differ materially from European or American.
In many of the villages there are always some who desire to improve themselves and better their conditions. They have their gardens, but, work as they may with their primitive little hoes, they cannot make much headway; or there may be a drought and famine is the result. They go away and work for a time, and come home with a supply of clothing and some money. They come to their dirty homes and filthy surroundings, and their friends and relatives try to get as much of their clothing and money as possible. They gradually become more and more sordid in appearance, their clothing disappears, and we become disgusted with them for so soon leaving behind the outward marks of civilization. But howmany months could we live their home life and be presentable in appearance?
Let us take Charlie as an example. He, with a number of other boys, went to Southern Rhodesia to work on a farm. He remained a year and received fifteen shillings ($3.60) per month, and he had to pay his way down and back on the train. He came home at the end of the year with a nice supply of new clothing and some money, and he looked as clean and well-dressed as a European when he came to Church on Sunday. He is a Christian boy and is trying to do what is right. Soon after his return home, his father, who is one of the three lazy men I mentioned, and extremely filthy in appearance, began wearing Charlie's clothes. First it was a shirt and a piece of calico; then another garment; then his nice grey coat. Charlie gave his little naked brother one of his shirts. He wished to marry, and this took all of his money. In a few months he presented quite a different appearance from what he did on his return home from Bulawayo, and we began to blame him, at least in our minds, and say that he should not allow himself to degenerate in this way. But most of his clothing is gone and his money is gone; he does not even have sufficient with which to purchase soap, so that he may wash the remaining clothing.
Says one, "He should keep at work and not come and sit down in his home." The work takes him away from home, and his wages are low, so that he must keep at it continually in order to maintain appearances. May he not have any home life at all? It is a perplexing problem, and were we forced to takehis place we would no doubt conclude that the boy does remarkably well under the circumstances. While at home he works in his gardens and does what he can find to do for the white men near his home; then, as his needs increase, he again goes to Bulawayo to begin again. This is an actual occurrence and typical of many others. He may conclude to have no home life, but keep up the semblance of civilization, hang about the towns, and imitate many evils surrounding him, and in the end prove a greater menace to society and to the country than if he would, at least part of the time, live in his own home in a more primitive manner. Again, if he depends too much on the stores of the traders, he ceases to manufacture articles for himself, so that if he does finally settle down for himself, tired of the struggle, he is often more helpless than at first, because he cannot make the articles which his father made.
Is the native provident? or does he live from hand to mouth? Yes and no. I heard a man who traded with the natives say that in one year he bought about 1,000 bags of grain from them, giving in exchange goods from his store. Before the next crop was harvested, he had sold about all the grain back to them, at of course quite an advance in price. I have seen, near our own doors, natives sell to European traders grain, either for money or goods, from $1.25 to $2.50 for a two-hundred-pound bag and buy it back later in the same season for from $6 to $7 per bag. But these are extreme cases. In the latter instance a year of plenty was followed by a year of drought, and the natives were far from markets and at the mercy of local traders. Many of the nativeshad put in their granaries what would have tided them over an ordinary season, but the prolonged drought led them to want. Others had a comparatively poor crop the previous year and this caused a scarcity. Some did not need to buy at all, as they always look in advance for such emergencies and do not sell their surplus until certain of a new crop. Such natives, when they do sell, often sell to their native neighbors or exchange their grain for cattle. Such are generally very thrifty, while there are always some who are in want. In this too it may be seen that they are not unlike other people.
In fact, the Batonga taught their missionaries some lessons in caring for grain. We found that they store their corn in the grain bins without removing all the husks, and they shell it as they need it or near the end of the season. With the Kafir corn they do the same way, cutting off the heads and putting it away without threshing it. This was so different from the thrifty Matabele, who carefully shelled and threshed their grain, that the first time we visited one of the villages and saw their method we thought, "How lazy! We must teach them how to do their work properly." We soon discovered that in this hot climate the shelled corn was soon weevil-eaten, and that the shelled Kafir corn was almost ground to meal before the year ended. Now we are inclined to imitate the natives in this respect rather than they us. It shows too that the native adapts himself to the country and climatic conditions.
The African is a genuine lover of nature. He enjoys being out in the open air; he loves the brightrays of the sun. Everything around him is pregnant with meaning. Nature is his school, and he knows the habits of every beast, bird, or insect. In a measure he appreciates and loves the beautiful, even though at first he may smile at the white man's love for flowers. One day I inquired of an old heathen woman, who never came to Church, why they moved their kraal from the rock-bound place in which it had been, to the open plain. Her withered face brightened up, as with a sweep of her arm she took in the magnificent scene before her and exclaimed, "Is not that beautiful?" The native too shows good taste in the selection of clothing after he has become accustomed to civilized ways. We are inclined to think of them as being especially partial to bright colors. A few are, but my experience is that the majority are not. Many of the boys especially soon discard the native stores, where cheap apparel is sold, and frequent the stores for Europeans.
They love music and have several crude musical instruments. Their songs are generally of war, love, marriage, and the chase. They also have some songs suitable to their work. They of course have good voices for singing, and can be easily trained to sing well. They have their legends, their poetry, proverbs, and animal stories.
Natives, although very generous among themselves, are not inclined to be so to white people; perhaps because white people have not as a rule treated them so generously. If the native wishes to sell anything and is greatly in need of the money or clothing, he will often consent to sell for almost anyprice. It is the same with work; he will work very cheaply if he is eager to work.
On the other hand, if the need is on the part of the buyer, he will ask a very high price for grain or other articles and absolutely refuse to give for less, especially if the buyer is an European. With work it is the same. Even boys, after they have received a certain amount of education and religious training, are very slow to accept the idea that they should do anything for the white man from a sense of duty. There are doubtless some very good reasons for this. They, however, respect a master who is kind but firm, and it is best not to coax them. If they find that we are not dependent upon them, and can get along without them, they are more likely to conclude that they cannot get along without us.
The native is said to be lacking in gratitude to his benefactor, and there is some truth in this. One often spends much time and labor to train him along certain lines, with the hope that he will be of genuine service in the future. Perhaps about the time he is able to take the place for which he is fitted, he will often turn and, rejecting his benefactor, give the benefit of his training to some one who can remunerate him better. Naturally the missionary, or master, whichever it may be, feels grieved at this lack of gratitude. Too often, perhaps, the fault is on both sides, and we do not give him credit for the help he has been to us. Then too it is difficult to put ourselves in his place and see matters from his point of view. He has no idea of the value of our time or training and we sometimes spoil him in the beginning. Would not the best and safest way forthe good of the native be to require him to earn his way as he goes? Let him always work sufficiently, if possible, to pay for the trouble it takes to teach him, whether in school or in industrial work, or in work pay him small wages at first and increase as he becomes more and more proficient. It may require a little of his time, but it has not spoiled him, and if he should conclude to go at any time, he has altogether or nearly paid his way in kind and one is none the loser.
The native, however, can, and many of them do, improve greatly along this line after they have become Christians. While naturally they are not inclined to be disinterested and generous to the white people, yet many of them become so and display a remarkable spirit of self-sacrifice in the Lord's service. Many teach year after year at a far lower salary than they could obtain elsewhere; and, not only in teaching but in other lines of labor requiring skill, they will work for the Lord for a much lower wage than they could procure elsewhere, as all of our missionaries can testify. Then too many of them often give largely of their penury for the advancement of the cause of Christ.
I was one day touched by the spirit manifested by a big fellow. He had come to the missionaries destitute of clothing, but anxious for an education. He was a hard-headed chap, both in school and out, and ran up against many hard places before he became pliable. He received, like the rest, a little money at the end of each term, but since he was in school three and one-half hours each day, his time for work was limited and his pay necessarily small. He, however,stayed at the mission and gradually obtained some clothing and money to pay his taxes. He also began to accept Christ as his Savior and from being a proud, obstinate fellow, he became more and more docile. At one time the amount coming to him was ten shillings ($2.40). His wardrobe was still scanty, but he took out for himself one shilling of the money received and brought the remaining nine shillings and said, "Here, I want to give this to the Lord."
Giving the Gospel to the natives in their villages, while it is generally a pleasure to the missionary, is not always an easy task. They soon learn to be very quiet and respectful in the church, enter quietly, take their places and go through all the outward forms of service, and also leave without being noisy or talking, perhaps because they are requested to do so. But when one goes out into their villages, even to the best of them, there are many side issues. The chief, if he is present and worthy the name, will aid in keeping order, and even if he is not present, the majority may sit quietly and seem to be listening; but perhaps the cattle get at the granaries and must be driven away, or the chickens go into the huts and eat the meal and must be watched; perhaps new ones are continually coming and must be noticed and greeted, if they are allowed to do so. Then the babies are so interesting to their mothers or those near them, or perhaps there is a mother with an older child at her side, and she does not wish to lose any time; so, during her enforced leisure, she is sedulously examining the child's head or ornaments for parasites. Perhaps over there, outside the hut door, is a man who has not had timeto make his morning toilet, so he concludes to spend the time in dressing the long locks of hair around the top of his head.
One does not like to stop and reprove them, because the rest seem attentive and perhaps those are also listening, for the work they are engaged in is such a common one! Again, all may seem attentive and the missionary rejoices that the seed is falling into well-prepared soil, and he continues eager to drive the truth home to their hearts. He pauses to let it sink in—when lo! some one will make a remark wholly irrelevant to the subject he seeks to impress upon their minds; it may be in reference to some article of clothing he is wearing, or some of their own needs. His enthusiasm cools, for he perceives that some, and perhaps many, have paid little attention to the message.
Again, one may be speaking, and the chief or headman repeats what has been said, or he may ask a pertinent question, the answer to which brings out other questions, which serve to elucidate the subject. The other natives are led to listen; and while the discourse turns to be almost a conversation between the speaker and this one, yet the missionary goes away feeling that they have at least understood and perhaps have received some light. Sometimes, again, one may have only a few listeners and go away thinking nothing has been accomplished, but God has taken care of the seed sown.
I remember being out once with one of the Christian boys. We came to a garden where a woman and her daughter were working, and we sat and talked with them about Christ our Savior. Thiswas the first time they had had an opportunity to hear. Years passed and the incident was about forgotten by both the Christian native and myself. That girl later, out of much tribulation found her way into the Kingdom. Her father was a hardened old heathen, and had sold her to an old man. He was going to force her to marry the old man, but she escaped and fled to Matopo Mission where, with Elder Steigerwald's help, she was set free. She returned home, and later an European offered oxen and wagon to her father for her. She steadfastly refused and kept herself pure. Today she is the wife of a native evangelist and one of our most valued helpers. She says her first knowledge of Christ was at that little meeting in the garden, where she and her mother were working, and her present husband and I stopped to speak with them.
Nevertheless He left not Himself without witness, in that He did good, and gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.—Acts 14: 17.
Nevertheless He left not Himself without witness, in that He did good, and gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.—Acts 14: 17.
The above quotation may apply to the African's idea of God in general, but it seems especially applicable to the Batonga and kindred tribes. Among these the word for God and rain are one and the same,Leza. This does not necessarily imply that they have no conception of God apart from the Rainmaker, but that conception is closely allied to rain and kindred elements in nature. They understand the nameMubumbi(Moulder or Creator) andChilenga(Originator of Customs), but when speaking of the earth and vegetation, they will say, "Leza [God] made these things, because when leza [rain] comes, grass and vegetation spring up and grow, so Leza made them."
Of course their conception of Him, like that of all Africans, is very remote. He is their Creator, but to approach unto Him is like reaching out in the dark, in a vague sort of way, after something more powerful than themselves, something or some one they know not what. In times of great trouble, as in famine, fear, or when there is an earthquake oran eclipse, they will worship God, not necessarily by word of mouth, but by clapping their hands in reverence. They generally, however, like the Matabele, feel that they cannot approach God. He is too great and terrible, so they approach Him through mediators, such as departed spirits, prophets, and prophetesses.
Mr. Eddy, in "India Awakening," says: "Joined with these is the worship of dead parents, where spirits are dependent on their survivors for comforts, and who will avenge neglect or any deviation from custom. This belief is (1) a religion of fear, since most spirits are malicious; (2) a religion divorced from ethics, since spirits have no regard for moral ideas; (3) a religion of custom, since the worship rests on tradition and the spirits are apt to punish all departure from custom." This statement in reference to India can be as truthfully said of the pagan African.
The Batonga, many of them, build roofs or small huts over the graves of their dead. In them they will place skulls of animals and some of the property of the deceased. Their descendants come to this place, bringing beer and even water, and pour it out upon the grave in worship. If one has been considered powerful while alive, has been a great rainmaker, many people will gather around his grave in time of drought and pray for rain.
They have also their living prophetesses and prophets, to whom they turn in times of need. These claim that the soul of some powerful deceased one has entered them and bequeathed to them its power. In times of drought these prophetesses—for theyare generally women—multiply rapidly. In a village of about thirty-five huts, near us, there were said to be ten prophetesses during the drought two years ago. The prophetic term of some of them is often very short, much depending on their seeming success as rainmakers. Sometimes the prophetess will make no claim for herself, but her friends will make it for her. The prophetesses are very often immoral characters.
Day after day people will come to the prophetess, as the time for planting draws near, bringing their presents of grain or money and their seed, that she may bless it and insure good crops. They come, sit down, reverentially clapping their hands and beseeching her aid. The hunter brings his gun, to receive medicine which will insure him prowess in hunting; a man comes asking for medicine for his sick wife, who is bewitched, and this medicine is to ward off the witchery. There comes from afar an old woman, who claims to have the power of making their grain last a long time by putting a certain medicine into it when cooking. She is believed and the medicine is bought and put into the food, and she rejoices in her pay. These heathens are always very gullible and readily purchase anything which appears conducive to their own interests.
One day I saw a number of natives going to a village to worship a rainmaker, so I concluded to go also and see what they did, for it was a village near the mission where the Gospel had often been proclaimed. As I reached the place the prophetess was in her hut, but a number of women and girls were outside, clapping their hands in worship. Theirfaces were familiar to me, and I could not avoid feeling sad to see how little influence the Gospel had thus far had on their lives. Finally the prophetess came out of her hut and was received with more clapping of the hands. She was a large, powerful-looking woman and gave orders like a queen, nor was she unqueenly in appearance. The worshipers were seated around a large hole or excavation in the earth, and had several dishes of grain which they had brought. They were told to sort the grain, selecting only the best and whitest; and I am informed that some of the grain, together with incantations, is dropped into the opening in the earth, but this I did not see. She came and greeted me and spoke a few words and then entered her hut. A man came to her for medicine for his sick wife, who was bewitched, and others went to consult with her. Finally I went to the door of her hut and spoke with her, inquiring why these people were worshiping. She said:
"They want rain. The spirit of a rainmaker who died a long, long time ago entered into me and they come for me to make it rain."
Knowing them so well, and being jealous for Him Whose ambassador I was, I asked, "Do you really mean to say that you can cause rain?"
Regarding me quite earnestly for a time she finally said, "No, I cannot cause rain."
"Why then are you deceiving the people and pretending that you can? God only can produce rain."
"Yes," she replied, "He alone can make it rain."
"Then come and tell the people that He only can cause it to rain and that they should worship Him."
She willingly complied, and coming out of her hut, she spoke to them very earnestly, telling them to worship God, as He alone could cause rain. As she claimed to be only an intercessor, and no doubt did this to please me, it did not necessarily interfere with her role as rainmaker. Even the most pagan among them acknowledge Leza (God) as the Rainmaker, and these only as His messengers. Since the people so readily transfer their worship from one to another, they also freely come to the missionaries to have them pray for rain. They have done this at Macha, and the Lord has graciously answered the prayers of His servants. This, however, does not seem to bring the native any nearer to repentance and God, and one feels loath to heed their request, except in the case of Christian natives.
With the Batonga, wailing for the dead seems to be essentially a religious requirement, and it is most religiously observed, so we venture to include it as a part of their religion. When the news of a death reaches a village, the people begin to wail at once, especially if they be relatives, and continue to do so while they are moving about, putting away their grain, baskets, and the few utensils they own, for a stay of several days. They may be heard wailing as they pass on their way out of their village to go to that of the dead. In a short time perhaps the entire village is deserted. We were once camping near a village of fifty huts, and news came that a relative had died at a mine near Bulawayo. In a few minutes nearly all the inhabitants were on their way to the house of mourning; for, although thebody was buried about four hundred miles distant, they firmly believed that his spirit returned to his home and took cognizance of all they did. If a native is traveling along a path, and word comes to him of the death of a relative, he will begin wailing at once, and turning around proceed to the place of mourning.
Perhaps the reader will more fully understand what an African funeral is if he in mind accompanies us to one. Apuleni's father had been working in a mine in Southern Rhodesia. He became quite sick there and was brought home to die. We visited his home, and found that they had taken him to a temporary hut at some distance from the village. It is a very common practice for them to do this, especially if one is near death's door. His wife and daughters are near him, doing all they can to relieve his sufferings. His lungs are diseased and it is likely to prove fatal.
One evening word comes to the boy that his father has died. He immediately goes home, while Sister Engle and I conclude to go and see him buried. We have seen the wailings, but not the interment. It is already dark when the word comes, so we take the lantern and together with several schoolboys start for the village. We all go single file along the path for nearly three-fourths of a mile, down the hill, across the river, which is dry at this season. The night is quite dark and only lighted up by the flame of the lantern. Up the hill we go, on the opposite side, for over a fourth of a mile to the village. All along the path the sound of wailing comes to our ears. Sometimes it subsides and thenbecomes more violent than ever. Before death the deceased has been brought back to his hut, and as we enter the village the men are sitting around in groups outside and are quiet. We proceed to the hut of mourning, which is crowded with women and is dark, save for the light of the fire in the center, the flickering flames of which ever and anon light up the weird scene.
We stoop down and enter the low door. It is so crowded and hot that farther progress seems impossible, and yet we manage to work our way among the crowd, seated or standing and keeping up their doleful wail. Our object is twofold: We wish to see, and also to show our sympathy for the boy who has been with us so long and is a Christian, and we desire to see the sorrowing wife and daughters, for we know them well and believe that they will appreciate our presence and words of condolence. We finally reach the partition which extends over halfway across the hut. Near this lies a bundle about four or five feet long. It is a somewhat shapeless mass, wrapped with a number of layers of blankets and carefully tied. In the fitful light one might easily mistake it for a bundle of clothes, but we know without asking that this is the body of the deceased; for around it are seated the wife and daughters weeping bitterly, and lovingly patting the wrapping of the body. The rest of the women are mingling their tears with those of the relatives. We stoop and speak a few words of comfort to the wife, but it is little we can give; he had frequently heard of Christ, but refused to accept Him. As the fire flames up we can see Apulenistanding in the shadow, and he too is weeping bitterly, but more quietly. The boys who came with us make their way through the throng and going to him mingle their tears with his, and our own eyes overflow at the sight.
But this crowded hut, without windows or means of ventilation and with a hot fire, is unbearable, so we go outside, the boys following. Everyone on the outside is quiet or speaking in low tones. Sister Engle and I are given blocks of wood for chairs. From one of the groups of men the chief, Lupata, rises and takes his little hoe, and after he has made some measurements, he marks off the grave a few feet from the door of the hut of mourning. In the meantime wood and logs have been brought and several fires kindled, as night is nearly always cool. Around these fires the men sit in groups, but the fires do not make sufficient light, and some grass is brought from the roof of the hut and burnt near the grave for light, so the chief may see to do his work in digging out the first part of the grave. He then hands the hoe to another, who continues the work. The ground is very hard and the work proceeds slowly, and since they have difficulty in seeing, we place our lantern on a stamping block near them. This is gratefully acknowledged by the little group, and the digging continues.
It is an uncanny scene: The steady, dull thud of the hoe as it digs into the hard earth; the various campfires lighting up the dusky, grave faces of the men in their heathen garb; the steady wail of mourning in the hut near by—all leave an impression not soon obliterated. Thus perhaps an hourpasses and several men have taken part in digging, the loose earth being removed by means of a basket; but the picking of the hoe has taken on a metallic ring, for the earth is stony. The chief asks for kafir corn, and a daughter comes and shells some and places a pan of it near the open grave. Frequently some of this grain is dropped into the opening, "to soften and appease the earth," they say, and the digging continues, though but little progress is made. Then the chief calls to the mourners, "Be quiet and do not make so much noise. Don't you know that the ground is hard and stony?" The noise subsides and the digging goes on. Soon the friends again begin their loud wailing, and since the ground is still hard and stony, the chief finally goes to the door of the hut and berates them soundly. "Be quiet! Do you not know that you are making our work difficult by your lamentations? The earth refuses to receive the dead" (because you are loath to give it). They become quiet and the work continues. They think the very elements are arrayed against them, and the friends must propitiate the earth by a willing surrender of their loved one to its cold embrace.
It is now midnight, and from the progress made we conclude that it will take all night to finish the stony grave. We speak to the chief and he says, "Yes, the interment will not likely be before early dawn." We conclude to return home and have some rest. At an early hour we are awakened and reach the village just at dawn. The grave has been dug so that those inside can stand to their armpits. Then near the bottom a further excavation is madein the side of the grave, sufficiently large to receive the body. Two men remain standing in the grave while the body is carried out amid the lamentations of the mourners. It is gently lowered into the open grave and placed in the excavation in the side. Earth is handed down in baskets, and this is carefully packed around the body. Then comes the filling of the main part of the opening. As the ground is lowered the two men stamp it down with their feet, for of course they are not standing on the body. When it is nearly full, the men emerge and several with sticks carefully pound the earth as it is put in until the grave is full.
All this time the friends have been standing around weeping. When the grave is filled and all the rest of the earth removed, the head one calls loudly, "Water!" This is brought in a gourd and all the relatives and those taking part in the burial rush together; and as the water is poured out on the grave, they wash their hands in the falling water. The surface of the grave is by this time quite wet. The friends throw themselves on the muddy grave with their entire force, so that one would think bones might be broken. Some throw themselves repeatedly, and by the time they have finished, their bodies are quite muddy, but the top of the grave is pounded down as smooth as the surrounding earth, and by the time it is dry the uninitiated could not tell the place of burial.
Those participating then go to the river to wash, and the chief mourners paint part of their bodies with an ash-colored soil. Word has been sent to the friends and neighbors and the wailing properbegins. Men with assegais, axes, or guns walk back and forth crying "Mawe"; the women surround the grave, wailing and uttering various lamentations, such as "My friend." "The father of Apuleni." A wife will have on her head the deceased's hat; another will be carrying his assegai with the point bent; another his stool. All this time the son remained quietly weeping, taking no part in the heathen demonstrations.
An important part of the Batonga funeral is the sacrifice of animals, cattle, sheep, and goats. They think these have souls and accompany the deceased. The number killed depends upon the rank and the wealth of the one who died, although not all the animals sacrificed are his property. Relatives often bring of their own herds for the purpose. Some of the poorer class may have only one animal and small children none. At the grave of the murdered chief they sacrificed eight head of cattle; at that of another chief, a little farther away, there were twenty-two killed. The meat of these animals is eaten by the mourners. At the funeral which we have just described the man was poor. One of the relatives slew a goat, and an ox of the deceased also was killed. Later in the day, as the people began to assemble for the general mourning, several young men came leading an ox for sacrifice. They were decked out in a most fantastic manner, with pieces of bright-colored cloth and various colored paper cut in ribbons. As they arrived near the scene they made a rush for the grave, brandishing their weapons fiercely and seeming to fight the very powers of darkness.
One day Sister Taylor and I were present at the funeral of the daughter of a chief. She was already buried when we reached the place and two oxen had been killed. We had no sooner spoken to her parents and sat down than a number of cattle were driven into the enclosure, between the huts. An old native raised his spear and aimed at one of the cattle. The rest were at once driven out while that one staggered and fell. A woman stepped to the grave and loudly called to the dead that the animal was slain and its spirit was coming. It was a sickening sight. The wailing continued, and some of the people would run around the huts in a wild, scared manner, as if they were fighting something. The air is to them peopled with malevolent spirits, seeking to do them harm, and they must ward them off. If one is dying they often beat their tomtoms in a furious manner to ward off danger. Heathen death and burial is a sad thing. It must be seen to know how terrible it really is. The warlike Baila were accustomed formerly to sacrifice any one of another tribe who happened to be in the neighborhood at the death of a chief, for all strangers were enemies, and Gomo said he saw four or five human skulls on a tree as he approached one of their huts. The wailing is kept up for several days, especially at night, for it would seem that darkness adds to their terror of the evil spirits.
We have often endeavored to show them the folly of some of their beliefs, and of course the Christians take no part with them. Even many of the older people are losing faith in some of these things, but are continuing to keep up appearancesfor fear of the rest. The chief near us says he is not going to sacrifice any more cattle; he will keep them and train them for oxen.
Some are very eager to have white cloth in connection with burial, and one old man at some distance north of us, who has a son in Bulawayo, desired us to write to the son, telling him to bring him a white shroud for burial. Whether this idea has come in through the white man I am unable to say, but it has probably come through some natives who have been to the towns to work and there learned something of Christian burial. Among some half-civilized natives in some parts of Africa, the idea prevails that if one is put in a coffin, and has a Christian burial, he will go to heaven.
There is also a second and sometimes a third wailing, consisting of a beer drink and a dance. This too is generally held at night. The friends and relatives come together and the half-intoxicated mourners engage in singing and dancing. The actions are most lewd and disgusting, for these are often genuine carousals of the basest sort; but they are most religiously engaged in, and people who believe that the departed spirits have such power over the living, are loath to ignore any established worship of such spirits.
Shikazwais the messenger of witches and is supposed to bring harm, sickness, or death to its enemies. This class of spirits they say never dwells in a human body. They are always disembodied spirits and mediums. The belief in witchcraft and transmigration of souls is similar to that of the Matabele and need not be repeated. The native,too, has firm belief in the efficacy of charms to ward off sickness or accidents and to bring good fortune, and the dispensers of these articles do a thriving business.
There are various other beliefs in the possession of spirits, which are not very well understood, and some of them seem to be comparatively new, even among the natives themselves. While I was in Natal, in 1910, a missionary was telling me of a difficulty they were encountering among the native girls. They became possessed with an affliction not unlike hysterics, and when it was started in a neighborhood it spread rapidly even among half-civilized natives. I say hysterics, because this lady was enabled to check its advance by punishing the first one who was afflicted in that way in her school. I had never witnessed anything of the sort among natives until my return to Macha in that same year. One day, while out kraal-visiting, I was surprised to see something of the same nature. They tried to keep the actions of the young woman, who was afflicted, from my notice, and hurriedly attempted to quiet her by silly remedies. When I inquired what was the matter, they quickly replied, "Nothing." The boy accompanying me said it was demon possession. This has spread over the country among the girls and young women. The natives called itMasabi. The older people do not care to mention it or, if they do, it is in sort of an apologetic manner. They claim that the spirit of some bird or other animal enters the person and causes her to act so strangely. The usual remedy resorted to is to beat the tomtoms to drive away the spirit. They claimthat the so-called possession is comparatively new in the country, and that it came from a tribe northeast of Macha.