Africana; or, the heart of heathen Africa, Volume 1 (of 2)

Africana.

A. King And Co., Printers To The University.

[Illustration: I—_Frontis._

The Postman.

“Literature is likely to be an important means of elevating and purifying the native. All Africans, from the lad that writes his Grammar exercise to the postman that conveys a written message in a split wand, have a liking for _kalata_ (letters).”—Vol. II., p. 261.]

Africana; Or, The Heart Of Heathen Africa.

BY THE REV. DUFF MACDONALD, M.A., B.D., LATE OF THE CHURCH OF SCOTLAND MISSION, BLANTYRE, EAST CENTRAL AFRICA.

Vol. I.—Native Customs And Beliefs.

“The proper study of mankind is man.”

LONDON: SIMPKIN MARSHALL & CO. EDINBURGH: JOHN MENZIES & CO. ABERDEEN: A. BROWN & CO. 1882.

[_All rights reserved._]

TO H. H. M. THIS WORK IS INSCRIBED IN REMEMBRANCE OF THE GREATEST TRIALS PATIENTLY ENDURED FOR THE GOOD OF AFRICA.

Preface.

Heathen Africa is a wide world, but not so wide as might at first sight appear. A large part of the continent has been reached by Mahommedanism, and Christian Missions are everywhere making bold inroads, so that the portion of Africa left entirely to the light of nature is less than is often supposed.

My main object is to contribute to a better understanding of the African heathen, and the reader acquainted with books on the “dark continent” will perceive that the greater part of the information given in these pages is entirely new. My knowledge was gained while I worked in the African Mission field. Unfortunately I arrived at the scene of my labours to find that the Directors of the Mission had set up a peculiar Civil Administration which, as might have been expected, soon gave rise to great difficulties. Hence, although I was labouring with increasing success, and daily gaining the confidence of the natives, I was suddenly recalled by the Directors.[1] Although no longer privileged to labour in Africa, I have still the deepest sympathy with its people, and am led to publish these volumes in the hope of stimulating Christians to more hearty endeavours in behalf of this dark land.

A knowledge of these Africans is interesting for its own sake. Besides, we cannot believe that God has maintained such multitudes of human beings for so many generations without our being able to learn lessons from them.

It is only when one has had an opportunity of understanding these races for himself, that he knows how much they require the help of Christendom. While from that dark land Christians hear the words, “Come over and help us,” seldom do they realize how urgent is the call. That call is associated with the shrieks of the helpless slave who is sacrificed at the tomb of his oppressor, with the last cries of a fond mother poisoned by a superstitious son, and with the sighing of a wife torn from the home of her affection and compelled to drag out a miserable captivity among men whose hands are red with the blood of her kindred. When labouring in Africa, often have I been asked to explain why I was “so long in coming” when I knew that its people were living in darkness, and such a question every Pioneer Missionary may expect to face. I cannot express the feelings of many a heathen African more touchingly and at the same time more truly than by quoting the following which comes from Mr. Gill, a Missionary in the South Sea Islands:—

“At one of the fellowship meetings which the native Christians of the South Sea Islands had among themselves, an old man rose and said, ‘I stand among you to-day a solitary and lonely man. Once I had a wife: dear she was to my heart; she is no more. Once I had five noble sons; they are all gone. O that terrible night, when my wife went out to the brushwood, never to return, when my boys left my home to be slain by our deadly enemies!’ He paused, and there was a deep silence; the tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘These things do not occur now,’ he again said; ‘Christianity has put an end to these bloody wars. But there is one thing I want to ask, Can it be that the Christian people in England have had this Gospel of peace for many long years, and never sent it to us until now? O that they had sent it sooner! Had they sent it sooner, I should not be to-day solitary, sad-hearted, mourning my murdered wife and children. O that they had sent it _sooner_!’”

As Missions to solitary stations among aboriginal tribes require to be conducted in a careful and well-defined manner, I have pointed out many difficulties by which the success of such enterprises is liable to be impaired.

With reference to the assumption of Civil Jurisdiction, which brought one or two East African Missions under public notice, I have said little except where any incident illustrated Mission difficulties or African customs, and on this subject I must refer the reader to Missionary Magazines—in particular the _Missionary Review_ for 1882. But lest I should appear indifferent on the matter, I may, without obtruding the subject, introduce one or two remarks calculated to benefit the youthful Missionary. Such a man is generally full of zeal and enthusiasm, and the last thing in the world that he fears is the danger of being confronted with misrepresentation or doubtful diplomacy. But such a danger is possible—it is one thing to go to the heat as the servant of the Lord, and quite a different thing to go as the agent of a Committee. While Mission Directors incur some risk by setting up a Civil Jurisdiction, the real danger falls upon the agents they employ. If any of these agents say, “I am here commanded to act as a judge or a chief, I am perfectly aware this is a difficult task, but I am bound to do my best to obey,” he soon finds he is greatly blamed: and, on the other hand, when a man reasons, “My superiors have set up a strange organisation here. But these men are the great Leaders of the Church. They have been studying Missionary methods before I was born. I have no doubt they understand their plan. But I cannot understand it: I must leave it entirely alone and devote all my attention to Spiritual work,”—condemnation as certainly follows.

Again, when an ordained Minister becomes a Missionary, he is held to lay aside his ministerial _status_ and become the agent of a committee, while a Licentiate who is set apart for work among the heathen is “ordained” in the same sense as a beadle may be said to be ordained—he may talk of “magnifying his office,” but he holds it only during the pleasure of a committee who, after he has performed his duties most diligently, may with the greatest complacency, turn him forth to starve!

Such are some of the difficulties that are thoughtlessly thrown in the way of Mission work.

There is, however, a more pleasant side to contemplate. I desire to say with emphasis:—“Savage tribes are _not_ difficult to get on with, Heathendom is _not_ an unpromising field,” and such is the experience, I think, of all Missionaries as they go forward, believing that “He shall have the heathen for His heritage, and the uttermost parts of the earth for His possession!”

I have pleasure in acknowledging that for several of the illustrations I am indebted to the courtesy of the Rev. H. Rowley, the talented author of the Story of the Universities’ Mission to Central Africa.

Contents Of Vol. I.

N.B.—_The figures and letters in brackets refer to the sections (and not to the pages)._

Page

Introductory.

Novelty of the Subject. Effect of Christianity. Difficulty and value of the investigation, 1-14

Chapter I.—First Impressions.

(A) Dress, Tatoos, Ornaments. (B) Weapons. (C) Houses, Beds, Fireplace, Furniture, Live Stock. (D) Climate, Rains, Productions, Famines. (E) Food, Want of Bread, Meals, Unclean Animals, Hospitality. (F) Work, Division of Labour. (F)* Races and Chiefs. (G) Travelling and Salutations, 15-35

Chapter II.—Arts And Literature.

(H) Trades and Manufactures, Iron, Baskets, Cloth, Pottery, African Industry. (I) The Learned Professions, Medicine, Divination. (K) Charms. (L) Traditional Literature—its Form, Matter, and Relations to Kindred Traditions, 36-57

Chapter III.—Native Theology.

(1) Nature of man. (2) Immortality. (3-6) The Gods, their Dwelling Place, their Manifestations; Distinctions. (7, 8) Priests, Village Gods. (9, 10) Polytheism, Selection of Gods. (11, 12) Special Deities, Pathos of Native Theology. (13) The Creation, 58-75

Chapter IV.—Native Worship.

OCCASIONS FOR OFFERINGS. _Journey, War or Hunting._ (14) Oracles. (15) Ceremonies. (16, 17) Omens. (18) Rejoicings. (19) _Sickness._ (20) _Famine_, _Dreams_. NATURE OF OFFERINGS. (21-24) Ordinary Offerings. (25-28) Special Offerings, Human Sacrifices, 76-97

Chapter V.—Death.

(29) Summary. (30) Illness, Physician’s Responsibility. (31) Death, Slaves caught to escort the deceased. (32-38) Mourning Ceremonies. (39) Immolation of human beings. (40) House of deceased taken down. (41) Position of the deceased in the other world. (42, 43) Continuation and end of mourning, 98-112

Chapter VI.—Childhood And Youth.

(45-47) Birth, Early Days, Naming. (48-51) Betrothal, Early Training, Amusements, Games, 113-124

Chapter VII.—Mysteries.

(52, 53) Instruction of Girls, Boys, Adults; General remarks, 125-132

Chapter VIII.—Marriage.

(54) Procuring a Wife. (55) Ranks among Wives. (56) Adult Marriage, Wedding-day. (57) Woman’s Kingdom. (58) Marriage Contract. (59) Divorce. (60) The Wife’s Surety, 133-143

Chapter IX.—Social Life.

(61-63) Native Villages. (64-66) Ordinary Life and Work. (67) Food in common, 144-151

Chapter X.—Government And Administration Of Justice.

(68-72) Headmen and Chiefs. (73-76) Courts of Justice, Trials, and General Treatment of Crime, 152-164

Chapter XI.—Personal Rights.

(77) Slavery. (78-81) Murder and Homicide. (82) Unchastity, 165-174

Chapter XII.—Rights Of Property.

(83-91) Public Property, Land, &c. (92) Private Property. (93) Usury. (94) Petty Theft. (95) Theft and Robbery. (96) Miscellaneous Crimes, 175-186

Chapter XIII.—Inheritance And International Law.

(97, 98) Succession to Property and Titles. (99-101) International Law and War, 187-195

Chapter XIV.—A Slave Government.

(102, 103) The Magololo and their Rule. (104) Cruelties of a Slave Government, 196-203

Chapter XV.—Witchcraft.

(105) The Poisoned Cup. (106) Witchcraft the cause of Death. (107) Detection and Punishment of Witches, Divination, 204-214

Chapter XVI.—Ethnology.

Ethnological Method, Tribal Customs, East Central Africa, South Africa, West and North Africa, Races of Antiquity, 215-234

Chapter XVII.—African Philology.

A Philosophical Language. Vocabulary, number and nature of African Words. Grammar, as compared with that of the Aryan and Semitic Tongues, 235-245

CHAPTER XVIII.—AFRICAN PHILOLOGY—_Continued._

Imitation of Sounds and Speech. The _Polyglotta Africana_. Specialties in African Tongues, 246-257

Chapter XIX.—Estimate Of Native Character.

_Physical_: Features, Figures, Powers of Endurance. _Moral_: Truthfulness, Avarice. _Intellectual_: Native Oratory. Effect of their circumstances on Character. Docility in Religion, 258-276

Appendix.—Cosmological Tales. 277-301

List Of Illustrations.

Vol. I.

The Letter Carrier, _Frontispiece_

South African making fire, 12

Liberated Slaves—Blantyre, 15

The Supelele, 17

Native Knives and Arrows, 19

Native Pipes and Pottery, 40

Natives in the African jungle, 176

Women of West Central Africa, 226

Native Musical Instrument, 272

Introductory.

Introductory.

There are no books, so far as we are aware, that aim at giving a systematic account of the beliefs and customs of any of the tribes in Eastern Central Africa. Indeed, it is not long since these tribes have been known at all. Those beliefs and customs are to a great extent _Arcana Africana_, and form the main subject of this work.

Those that know how long it takes to become thoroughly acquainted with new races of people will object to a work like this appearing so soon. To this objection we would reply that, after a Christian Mission has been established for a few years in a district, the views of the people around may become so modified, especially on religion, that it is difficult to distinguish how much is native and how much is imported. This is specially true of these Africans. They rapidly throw aside everything that is native, and grasp after the views and customs introduced by the foreigner. Even as it was, we often got answers that seemed to be an echo of our teaching, but we made a point of rejecting every statement of this kind. The reader may rest assured that we have here put before him no religious belief that was suggested or modified by Christian teaching.

Again, there are some that think it is not possible to give an account of native beliefs and customs, because they differ so much in different districts. The same objection might be raised with reference to English beliefs and customs. A man that wished to give an account of the Religious beliefs of the people of England, would find that he had undertaken a difficult task, but such an account, so far from being impossible, might be made not only perfectly accurate, but also highly interesting and profitable.

So in the case of Native Law. We have seen the natives settle their disputes in methods so many and so different, that we might have said “There is no such thing as Native Law”. Might not the very same opinion be expressed with reference to English Law?

As we tried to reduce Native beliefs to an intelligible form, we were often discouraged by finding that one man would make a statement that his nearest neighbour would contradict. But as years passed on, I discovered that this accident was not so much the fault of the African, or of his belief, as of the European that questioned him. In many respects there is a greater fixity of belief in Central Africa than in England, although it may be freely admitted that these African customs are subject to many modifications due to local ingenuity and caprice. On the subject of Native Law the reader is ever at liberty to read between the lines that _our statements may be often modified_ by a maxim which is but ill concealed in Native Jurisprudence _by the maxim, “that might is right”_.

Difficulties.

There are enormous difficulties to overcome before we can be sure that our statements are correct. We once knew a man of good abilities try to get information on a small section of native customs, and the result was in wonderful disagreement with facts. We were so tickled at the production that we went to our friend’s informer and read over the expressions one by one, half inclined to ask regarding each “Would you be surprised to learn?” In most cases he was very much surprised indeed! The causes of error are so numerous and subtle as to deserve extended notice.

Importing European Ideas.

One cause of error is that we mix up what the African tells us with our own ideas, which are European. As a consequence of this, we put questions to him that he cannot understand. Many of our questions strike the African exactly as a question like the following would strike a European, “If seventy miles of the sea were burned, who would be the losers, the Insurance Companies? or the Harbour Commissioners? or ——?” If an African put this question to a European the European would laugh at him; but if the European put it to an African, the latter would be more polite, and would think that the European was very ingenious in finding out a supposition that would have never occurred to himself; and although the African knows that the difficulty could never arise in his own country, yet he feels bound to believe that the poor European is perplexed by it, and states what he thinks _would happen_ in Africa on such an extraordinary occurrence: thus _he gives an answer_, which the ingenious European carefully lays past.

For instance, a person that had never been out of England would see nothing amiss in asking a Makua or a Machinga, “If a dog were to tear your trousers and your housemaid were to mend them, how much would you give her in addition to her ordinary wages?” Now the native will not say “We wear no trousers,” “Women in our country never sew,” “No one receives wages in our country for domestic service,” “Special services are not defined, and if they were, the duties of a housemaid would not be anything like what they are in England”. Instead of making statements of this kind, which would all be interesting to his questioner, the African will take up the question as it stands, he will consider that it is quite worthy of the genius of a European, and will probably answer that the housemaid would get “two fowls, one hoe, and a string of beads!” And he may reply without the least hesitation; for if he be a professional oracle-man, remember he has been trained all his lifetime to answer hypothetical questions. He would reason that if a man possessed trousers, and servants, yea, a female that obtained wages and had been taught to sew, he ought to give her some handsome present for what she did beyond her ordinary duties, and then our oracle would state what was his idea of a handsome present. His answer is utterly misleading, but he deserves credit for his polite attempt to humour the European, who forthwith translates the answer into pounds, shillings, and pence!

Another cause of error is found in

Native Politeness.

One evening I questioned a professional judge on a point of native law; he replied by stating what was entirely untrue; when I pointed this out he merely laughed at the circumstance; he thought he had invented something that would appear better to a foreigner. He reminded me of a Scotch guide who kept telling what was false, because the Southerns all liked to hear that some “old king was killed beside the great big stane”. Bishop Steere says—“In Africa they never say _no_, they always say _yes, certainly_; but possibly you are no nearer your object”. One must be careful never to _suggest_ an answer to a native; if the native and his questioner are strangers to each other the former will make it a point of etiquette to find out what answer the stranger would like, and may by and by take occasion to compliment him on his cleverness and the accuracy of his knowledge! Statements made in answer to direct questions are not to be relied on unless the questioner has had years of experience in conversation with natives, and knows the subject he converses about. What is arrived at in an indirect manner is almost always more valuable. I lay down these principles as to native evidence with some confidence, as I have tried them in hundreds of cases, especially in endeavours to fix the exact meaning of native words. One statement where the word occurred spontaneously was worth ten statements contrived for the purpose of eliminating the meaning.

In my first efforts to learn African languages I found that a great deal of what was said to me, especially by interpreters, was quite useless, simply because the poor fellows were trying to adapt their language to a European capacity!

Native Idioms.

When one attempts to obtain information through interpreters, without knowing anything of their peculiar idioms, he is liable to the strangest blunders. Those that try to speak with him carry their African idioms into English. Natives have great difficulty in knowing the difference between _before_ and _after_. Boys that have been writing English essays for more than a year, think nothing of writing deliberately about what men did on the earth _before_ they were created. There is another idiom still more fitted to produce confusion, and when an Englishman writes down in a multitude of instances what is the reverse of the truth we are often able to point out the cause. He puts to a native the question, “He did not go, did he?” The native replies “_Yes_,” where an Englishman would say “No”. Consequently every question put in this form will be answered in a manner that cannot fail to mislead. In the same way natives confound the active and the passive voice in verbs.

Distracting Circumstances.

Even after one has become familiar with some of their idioms he cannot trust to all the information that he supposes himself to acquire. I had begun to hold conversations with the natives, in their own tongue, about six weeks after my arrival, and I well remember that I often got information exactly similar to what Mr Pickwick got from his cabman. When a native sees a person noting down anything, he makes up his mind to say something worth noting! So much did I feel this that at one time I endeavoured to keep my book out of sight. While they were unaccustomed to it, it introduced into the conversation an element that was very unnatural. One plan I took was to have a pencil in my hand which I pretended to be playing with. I thus got down some new words upon my thumb-nail, and was beginning to congratulate myself on the success of my stratagem. After I sat for about ten minutes another man approached our group, when my friends hailed him in these words, “Come here and talk with the white man. He is writing on his fingers. He has written three new things already!” After this I saw that such a trick was quite useless. Not only had they seen it all, but they could tell how many words I had written. Great was the laughter that followed, and the new comer examined the guilty thumb-nail!

Romantic Information.

I sometimes got romantic information that I was sorry at a later date to have to put my pen through. Thus with reference to the High Priest of a new government (98), I gathered from one man that the first person _seen_ by the chief after his installation became the High Priest of his government. I had carefully noted down that a little _boy_ playing in the village found his way to the house of one important chief on the morning after his installation, and was the first to see His Royal Highness; for whom, as a matter of fact, he now officiates as sacrificer, &c. Then, _having taken up_ this meaning of the incident, I was farther informed that the chief made a note of the first _five_ people that he saw in case of the death of any; and my informer was eager to know who was the first man that I saw after coming to Blantyre. Subsequent information threw discredit on the beautiful story. But the peculiar thing was that I found long afterwards another native make the very same statements. This referred me back to my old notes. All I could say about it was that the word I had translated _see_ meant also _find_, that a _boy_ might be over 50 years for anything that the native word indicated, and that it was not clear from my text whether the chief was _seen_ by the boy or the boy by the chief.

Much of what we have written was not made the subject of special investigation, except where we found any doubt arise or any verification necessary. Our special object was to obtain such an accurate knowledge of the language as would enable us to give a good translation of the Bible. Most of the knowledge gradually grew upon us as we mingled with the natives, and for the purpose of translation attended closely to every word that we heard.

Other parts, especially those that refer to religion, were the subject of special inquiry. It is walking in the dark for a missionary to endeavour to appeal either to the feelings or to the reason of a people whose prejudices and beliefs are unknown to him, and how he is to convince them without appeals to their feelings or their reason I cannot tell. I would have given much to have had an account of those beliefs put into my own hands when I left for Africa.

I have tried to make all my statements as accurate as possible, but it would be too much to expect that in such a difficult investigation I should have escaped the influence of these many and subtle sources of error.

The Value Of Studying Native Customs And Beliefs.

What is the use of minute investigations among the ignorant heathen of Central Africa? We reply that such investigations throw light on many points that men of science consider to be of great importance.

To take a few instances:—

I. In The Science Of The Human Mind.

(A) The Senses.

Some speak as if men were made at first with the power of perceiving only a few colours, for instance, black and white, and that by and by they trained themselves to perceive brown. One argument advanced in favour of this view is that many native languages have words for black and white, but no word for brown. Now I knew several languages where the natives called brown and black by the same word; but they knew that there was a great difference between brown and black. I found that they could discriminate every shade of colour that I could discriminate myself.

(B) The Intellect.

Many facts that I shall lay before the reader will seem so strange that he may doubt whether these savages have the same minds as Europeans, whether they reason or think in the same way at all. It is true, however, that after one places himself in their circumstances, and tries to see and feel as they do, he will understand all their strangeness; he will even see that it would have been still more strange if their reasonings and conclusions had been different.

(C) The Feelings And Emotions.

Have we in Europe so developed ourselves as to become possessors of emotions that are entirely wanting in savage Africa?

We have what is called gratitude: have these heathen? Without any hesitation I answer that they have, and that even though we define gratitude as being much more than “an acute sense of favours to come”.

Again we have pity. A stranger might think that they were destitute of this. I have said to a boy, “Don’t carry that fowl so, you give it pain”. At this he would laugh. It would become the standing joke for a day or two. Everyone would be told that the Englishman said that “the fowl would be sore”. A whole village would collect at the strange report and receive the news with loud laughter. Yet all would admit that it was a cruel thing to pain the fowl; but they did not reflect that their method of carrying the fowl gave it pain. They were used to their own way, and thought no more of the matter than a butcher does of killing an ox. At the same time they have fables in their language, which show a desire to enter minutely into the feelings of the lower animals. For instance, they represent fowls as reasoning on their hard fate in being killed for their master’s supper.

(D) Moral Philosophy.

It has long been disputed whether men have a “Conscience” that distinguishes between right and wrong; or whether they merely look at certain actions that please or profit them, and call these actions good and the opposite actions bad.

Savages have been referred to on this subject. We have found that they distinguish the good from the evil in the same way as Europeans do, and usually agree with our conclusions. They know the difference between an injury of accident and one of intention. As to the moral judgment, “A man _ought_ to do such a thing,” “It is his _duty_,” we find this lesson is brought home to slaves or inferiors by positive law. In others there are aspirations more akin to the exuberant activities and bright dreams of youth. They would rather ask, “How can we do best?” as did the Ancients who talked of a _summum bonum_. As the spirit of the world became older and sadder this view gave place, and the idea of “duty” was more emphasised by moralists. Spirited Africans savour more of the Golden Age of Moral Science.

It is to be remembered that appeals to savage nations form only a part of scientific investigations like the above.

II. In Ethnology.

On looking at the many different races that inhabit the earth, some say that they did not all spring from the same stock, others that they did. If we say that they are all of one family we should try to show how some broke away from the rest, and at what time. Now let us make a supposition to show how the _customs_ of races might come in here.

[Illustration: SOUTH AFRICAN MAKING FIRE.]

In LIGHTING A FIRE some tribes rub a stick along a groove; other tribes have an improvement on this, they produce fire by making a little notch or hole in one stick, and whirling the other round very rapidly with the point of it in the notch. Now we may hold that before mankind discovered the second method, many nations, like the South Sea Islanders, who knew only the first, had broken up communication with the rest of their kindred; but that the Africans who use the improved method had likely been with the main body of mankind till the time of this great improvement.

Again, take the case of COOKING. Some tribes have no pots. They boil water by throwing hot stones into a skin. They must have separated very early from their more cultivated brethren. Others waited till some one fell on the plan of boiling water in a hollow stone. Others waited on till it was discovered that clay could be shaped into a kind of pot, and then carried this important discovery to the land of their adoption. Boiling with hot stones was the only way known to certain American, Australian, and Polynesian tribes; some tribes in Africa also used this method. The Esquimaux had pot-stones. It seems to have been the daubing of these with clay that first suggested pottery.

I have taken down traditions from African natives that point to some recollection of the hollow stone, used either by themselves or some other race; but the tribes here treated of know the value of clay pots. Of course they are far behind the Indians, who have metal pots.

With regard to THE CAUSE OF DISEASE there existed a widespread belief (held by many tribes in America and Australia, as also by these Africans) that disease came from bones, horns, balls of hair or something of this kind. The ancient Egyptians at a very early date considered that disease was to a great extent caused by excess of eating. The inference is that these tribes had not staid long enough to benefit by this wisdom of the Egyptians.

Other peculiar customs are spread over many tribes, and might be used in a similar manner. Many of these are observances in FAMILY LIFE. Among the Kaffirs a son-in-law must not see the face of his mother-in-law. This custom is found among South American tribes. Sometimes a father has to fast after the birth of his child, or take some such method of showing that he recognises that he as well as the mother should take care of the young stranger.

When races are found knowing nothing of the art of writing, and making no attempt to use stone or bricks for building, we feel that a wide gulf separates them from the most ancient races of history. Of course it is to be remembered that they might have once been aware of such arts. Many Africans, as a matter of fact, have seen Portuguese architecture for centuries without adopting it.

III. In The Science Of Religion.

A position has often been maintained that there is no tribe without some knowledge of God. This bears on investigations in the science of mind and on primitive traditions and ethnology. We do not now dwell on native religion, as it will claim special attention in subsequent chapters.

Besides throwing light on many subjects like the above, a knowledge of tribal beliefs and customs is of vital importance to the missionary and also to the trader. Indeed, any attempt to deal with people without knowing their customs and beliefs is a mere groping in the dark.

[Illustration: LIBERATED SLAVE-WOMAN, BLANTYRE.

(_Photographed in ordinary Costume._)]

[Illustration: LIBERATED SLAVE-GIRL, BLANTYRE.

(_Trained to Household Work._)]

Chapter I.

First Impressions.

A.—Dress, Tatoos, Ornaments, &C.

The _dress_ of the native is very scanty: sometimes we see full-grown men and women whose wardrobe does not consist of a square foot of cloth. We have even seen the primitive fig-leaves not sewn together, but simply taken down for use, along with the tip of the branches on which they grew. One tribe, called the Mangoni, is fond of wearing skins. Other tribes towards the north of Lake Nyassa are still more primitive in their dress, or rather want of dress. The usual costume in the Blantyre district is a piece of calico about two yards broad, and rather longer, which is put round the middle of the body: the dress of a man does not differ from that of a woman, except that the latter may occasionally cover her breasts. The breasts and arms are usually left quite bare. There is no hat on the head, nor shoes on the feet. When we tried to translate the words, “If any man sue thee at the law and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also,” we found a difficulty, for if a native were stripped of _one_ garment, he would generally be left in a very helpless condition.

The chiefs, or principal men, dress as the rest of the people, only they may have a few more folds of calico about their loins. In certain families, as in the Abanda family of the Wayao tribe, the chief of the district, or of a village, wears a band of cloth round his temples as a kind of crown. Before the arrival of the missionaries, shirts, although very rare, were not entirely unknown, and there existed a belief that while men might wear them, they were not the proper thing for women. Bark cloth (H) is extensively made and worn.

The _tatoos_ (nembo) are sometimes dreadful inflictions, and when the larger marks are made the children roar as if they were distracted. The Angulu have marks like “flies,” the Wayao tribal mark is above the nose, the Anyasa make very large rude tatoos, which might be described in those words that Henry Salt, the Abyssinian traveller (1814), uses with reference to the Makua, a tribe not far distant, and much spoken of by the Wayao, under the name of Makuani. “The Makua practise tatooing so rudely that they raise the marks one-eighth of an inch above the surface.” He writes also:—“They file their teeth to a point, so that the whole set has the appearance of a coarse saw”. The natives here are fond of knocking out a front tooth in order to produce a beauty mark.

_Ornaments_ are worn chiefly by the women in Africa as elsewhere. Beads and bangles are in great request. Many have armlets and anklets of brass or iron. The most striking female ornament is the lip ring. Little girls have first a small hole (lupelele) bored in the upper lip, in this they place a stalk of grass, which prevents the hole from filling up, next they insert a thicker stalk of grass, then by means of bits of twigs, &c., the hole is made larger and larger, till it can receive this ring. Hardly any female is without it. They say it makes them look “pretty”; the bigger the ring, the more they value themselves! At Zomba, a small hole is bored on the side of the nose, and a tack (exactly similar to those large headed tacks or “tackets” used in the sole of a boot), is put in. This tack, _chipini_, is made of lead; some of the ladies used to express much surprise when I showed them that it would write on my book.

[Illustration: NATIVE WOMAN WITH BEADS, TATOOS AND LIP-RING.]

Occasionally, a woman will wear an enormous wig made of beads. The beads are so manipulated as to present the appearance of having been “threaded” on the hair of the head. Some females do actually thread beads on the separate hairs of their head, but the usual way is to put them on a cluster of strings, and then wear like a wig. Sometimes they allow their hair to grow till it is very long—it may be sticking up about 8 inches above the head—and then it looks exactly like the fleece of a black sheep. But this is unusual, as the natives are obliged, for the sake of cleanliness, to shave their heads often. The men have scarcely any beard or whiskers. On the shaving of the head for a death (40), not even the eyebrows are allowed to escape. There is no end of capricious shaving, for instance, they shave one side only, or the whole head except a patch in the middle.

CHARMS (_mbiji_) are very often worn round the neck by both sexes. These are little pieces of wood like what fill the gourds of the Sorcerers (I). They are worn on a small string in the same way as beads.

We may mention here that great quantities of beads are worn round the loins in strings as thick as cart ropes. When a person is from home and wishes to buy anything, he falls back upon this portion of his property which is really his “purse”. Besides this, a native carries a bag (msaku), which may contain a box with lime (swakala), which he uses in chewing tobacco: a snuff box is also common. Ladies partake of these “regales” to a less extent.

[Illustration: NATIVE KNIVES AND ARROWS.]

B.—Weapons.

The men go armed generally with guns. (The country is full of flint muskets marked the “Tower,” and introduced by the slave trade.) Often they carry their _bows_ with half-a-dozen arrows. They never go unarmed. One chief used to be fond of carrying a large _spear_, which served as a kind of staff. Most of them carry knives as well. These weapons are necessary for protection against beasts of prey and other enemies, and may be used where game is seen. The Mangoni carry a shield like the Zulus.

On coming down from the Lake region to the Portuguese settlements at Quilimane, one of the first things that strikes us is, that natives under the Portuguese Government go about without carrying any deadly weapon. On the hills round Blantyre, a man scarcely sits down to sew his wives’ calico in his own village without having his bow and arrows by his side.

They do not seem to be expert marksmen; but they were able to send their arrows very much farther than I could do, let me try never so hard. They were fond of asking us to competitions of this nature. One time Kumpama of Cherasulo challenged us to a shooting match—his arrows against our guns! They allowed us, however, to stand too far back, and the arrows of his bowmen fell short of the target. Little boys are to be seen using their arrows from their earliest years, and they shoot small birds very cleverly.

They use the assagai, but more for thrusting than for throwing. Apart from war, chances for its use occur when they steal upon a buck before he awakes. A large broad spear is used in killing fish.

Some carry knob-sticks, or staves of a similar nature. They are useful for shaking the dew or rain off the long grass, as well as for defensive purposes. Little axes of various kinds are carried in the hand; they may be borne as credentials where a chief has to send by an unknown messenger. The usual African axes are said to resemble those used in Britain in the Roman period.

C.—Houses.

The houses, or huts (nyumba) in which they dwell, are all round. It is misleading to say that they dwell in them, as they scarcely enter them, except to sleep, or when driven by bad weather. Sometimes the women boil a pot inside the house, but often the cooking is done outside; all the meals are eaten outside. When the head of a house has any sewing to do, he does it on a mat before his door, or in the village forum. His wife does not sew, and most of her occupations (57) are necessarily outdoor. “A house,” says the native, “is made to sleep in.”

The walls form a circle—say about twelve feet in diameter—and are made of strong posts, sometimes close to each other, but generally with spaces between, where bamboos and grass are brought into requisition. The framework of the roof is placed upon the top of the circle, and some thatch is thrown on. The floor and walls are plastered with clay.

Two doors (mlango) are marked out before they plaster, but one of these is generally shut up, and may even be dispensed with. There are no windows. The wall is not above 3 feet high, the roof projects so as to form a small verandah in which a person may sit. Sometimes there are apertures in the wall calculated to let through the muzzle of a gun.

The houses being occupied chiefly during the night, part of the floor is often raised for a bedstead. The bed which is merely a mat made of bamboos or reeds, and is not nearly so soft as an ordinary door-mat or hearth-rug, is laid on this mound. By the side of the “bedstead” are placed a few logs of wood which form a fire during the night. The head of the house lies nearest to this fire, while his partner is placed on his other side, as he remarks, _away from the fire_. Blankets are unknown. The cloth that covers the man during the day may be drawn over him at night. Quite as often he lets it remain round his loins. Occasionally it seems as if a little flour had been spilt on the ground beside his head. He will not speak of this to a stranger, but you are on holy ground, and let me tell you in a whisper that it is an _offering to his gods_.

Candles are not used, the logs that smoulder in the fire give a little light. They burn beeswax occasionally, and when light is required, a little dry grass may be readily obtained. The native retires to rest soon after dark, and is astir at the first streaks of dawn.

The fire is in the middle of the floor, and there are no holes in the roof as in the old Highlands of Scotland. The houses are without any chimney whatsoever, and the smoke goes curling about in the roof and may ultimately escape through the thatch or at the doors. The roof is beautifully black and glossy inside, but outside it has an ugly brown appearance.

A European finds it a most inconvenient thing at first to enter a native hut, the smoke so fills his nose, mouth, and eyes, but when he sits down to talk to an invalid, the inconvenience is of course less than when he stands upright; at best the atmosphere resembles a London fog. In native huts it is sometimes difficult for a man of ordinary stature to stand upright. The doors of the houses are never over 3 feet high. What pigmies the natives must be! We have heard a learned professor arguing that the height of the doors in certain very ancient houses proved that the human race was not degenerating in stature, but this argument, true in many cases, would not do here. If the native wants to stand upright, he never thinks of trying to do so in his doorway.

The roof of his house is generally made a store; he goes up from the outside, removes part of the thatch, and puts in his corn. Bags of beans are hung up round and round on the pillars inside. Sometimes there are one or two pots filled with beans, and hermetically sealed with clay on the top to preserve such vegetables. There are no fenders or fire-irons to be seen. Tables are unknown, and chairs are hardly used at all, although men clever at wood-work make very small chairs of various forms. Implements of agriculture are stowed away in the house, so are the cooking utensils, the man’s bow and arrows, the sleeping mat already mentioned, and—our inventory is complete! Some part of the house may be occupied by live stock. The fowls are sometimes put up stairs in the store, and sometimes in a corner so as not to disturb the other members of the family! But laying-hens (mkolo) and fowls with chickens have very special privileges, and are not always confined to their corner!

Another item of importance to the inmates of a native house is the rats. They swarm in all corners after dark. They nibble at the maize that is stored in the roof, and also at the feet of their lord and master below. As we sit in conversation with a number of natives we cannot help observing their feet. Very generally they are all nibbled round the sides, and, thick though the natives’ skin may be, we can see that many bites have reached the quick flesh. When a person dies in a house at night, if the death be unobserved, the body may be terribly eaten by the rats before morning. What is the meaning of tolerating these vermin? Leave that to the natives themselves. A great feast day will come. These rats will be caught in hundreds, and either eaten on the spot or laid up as stored provisions. Some natives set traps in the house even during the close season, but this is not nearly so profitable; for if one or two rats are caught during the night, the others will eat them, and the fondest expectation of “butcher meat” will be blasted.

After calling attention to the fowls and the rats, we have done with the live stock. There are indeed “smaller cattle,” but they are too numerous to be specified. They are not a burden to the house itself, but are generally borne by the other inmates. We have often seen a native sit patiently while two or three others kept searching among his hair. A favourite remedy is to shave the head quite bare, and smear the head and the whole body with certain vegetable oils.

D.—Climate And Productions.

The climate strikes us at first as being much too hot, but after a while we feel it more comfortable. Then we can nearly always anticipate the weather. It is quite amusing to hear an arrival from England saying “This is another fine day!” When we meet a man at home, and have nothing to say, we nearly always call his attention to the state of the weather. When two natives meet each other the usual salutation is—“Where are you going?” the weather being so uniform that it may be taken for granted. The temperature in the shade at the hill settlements was hardly ever over 105° or under 42°, 70° being about the average. On the plains the heat was excessive.

The rainy season begins about October. We have nearly six weeks of very hot weather about January without much rain. By and by the sun returns overhead again, and we have the latter rains. About April the dry season sets in.

On the productions of the country we may remark that there are fruits in almost endless variety in the bush, but they are generally very small, and few of them are so good that we care to taste them twice. The _masuku_ and _mbembu_ are used very much by the natives. Sugar cane, tobacco, india-rubber are all to be found growing throughout the country. The natives chew the stalks of the sugar cane, chew and smoke tobacco, and relish the apple-like fruit found on the india-rubber vine.

Thrifty housewives make various vegetable dishes (maponda) of leaves and grasses that a European would be inclined to despise. In the hot season that precedes the rains sometimes food is very scarce, and then roots and herbs still less savoury are called into use. Moreover, there are certain edibles of this kind, which are used only in years of famine. Before the arrival of the missionaries such famines were exceedingly common, but they were not all caused by the climate, many were caused by war.

Nature is here so bountiful that, in ordinary circumstances, food is no object. The only season associated with hunger is a month or two immediately before the rains. If the rains do not come early, the old food may be quite finished. As soon as the rains begin, vegetable life flourishes with such luxuriance that the season of want is immediately forgotten. Once or twice in travelling during the season when everything is dried up, we have found a little boy sitting weeping on account of “hunger,” and the expression “hunger is painful” (_sala kupoteka_) reminds us that most natives know the fact by experience. Much of this is due to the tediousness of their cooking. If a party arrive half starving at a village, it may be several hours before anything can be cooked. The people do not keep flour on hand, but mill it as it is required for each meal; and as their meals are at 11 at noon and 6 at night, parties arriving in the interval must tighten their belts. Native travellers could easily sympathise with Esau when he sold his birthright.

E.—Food And Cooking.

The cooking is done by the women; but every native is a born cook. When a buck is shot out in the bush, even little boys will cook it at once. The staple food at Blantyre is maize; among the Anyasa millet; and at the mouth of the Shire, rice. Maize and millet are ground into a fine flour (utandi, ufa), which is made into a kind of porridge (ugali, nsima). This is eaten without salt, but ought to be accompanied by some relish, as beans or meat. This porridge takes the place of bread in their meals, as the natives make no bread. Another way of using maize or millet is in the native beer (ukana, mowa), the only beverage in common use except water, which they drink out of the running streams. They drink stagnant water also. Their method of drinking is peculiar, as they literally throw the water into the mouth with their hands.

The natives have regularly only two meals a-day, but they may eat maize stalks or sugar cane or other vegetables from morning till night. There are often feasts, as on the occasion of hoeing-matches (65), wakes, and marriage settlements. Beer is used greatly in those cases, and beer drinkings may be got up also without any special occasion. Sometimes they last for several days, the last day (lia kusasula) is specially distinguished for cooking porridge and fowls. Such solid food is not expected on the other days. There is also singing, dancing, and drumming. The exercises generally continue the whole night. The parties that do most to keep up the interest in such dances are paid.

There are no live stock except the small species of fowls and the rats that we have already mentioned. Some natives keep ducks—Muscovy ducks, which do not require a pond. Richer people, as village chiefs, possess goats. The Magololo chiefs have sheep and a few cows.

The Wayao have a superstition against cow’s milk, goat’s milk, and dairy produce of every kind. (In the same way young people will not eat eggs; it would make them barren.) They eat hippopotami, elephants, monkeys, moles, beetles, and even caterpillars. They take kindly to meat that has begun to putrify. Yet they make a distinction between what animals are to be eaten and what are not. Any creature that will eat the flesh of a deceased human being is unclean. It is msawi (106). For instance, while some eat the raven or kite (likungulu), others protest that it feeds about the graves.

A person could travel far and wide and trust to native hospitality. If we arrive at a village at the time that the native is taking his meals we are invited to partake. A great drawback is that a person not brought up on native food will be unwilling to risk his health by partaking of their fare. It cannot be expected that the traveller will fare better than his host. They soon begin to know people that do not eat freely of native food, and from motives of politeness they are slow in offering it. If we pass through a village its inhabitants quietly ask some of our native retinue whether there is any chance of our tasting the native beer,[2] and if it be found that the beer will not be refused, the poor creatures go and search for a cup (if they have one in the whole village). They judged that, as we were more familiar with cups than with calibashes, the cup would be the more acceptable. The natives that accompanied us on any journey were presented with loads of the various fruits of the season. If one wish to stay all night he will get a house to sleep in. Natives receive hospitality quite freely, and are prepared when their host comes to their home to treat him in the same way. When a party from one chief goes to visit another chief, one of their credentials is a present.

It is a breach of etiquette to eat alone if any one be present. When a native is at food he shares it with those around him, indeed he goes on dividing till he has only a mouthful left for himself. Etiquette does not bind us to partake of their food, but it is a sign of friendship to do so as far as possible. The natives have no spoons, and Englishmen would burn their fingers severely in eating porridge in the fashionable manner.

F.—Work.

The natives go to work at sunrise, and continue until the sun is overhead. After this their day’s work is finished, and they partake of their first meal. One reason why the morning meal is so late is that it would be difficult to have it ready before the people go out to work. In the afternoon the men sit down and converse. Some do light work, as sewing, but a great many remain quite idle. The women will be found pounding maize. They are nearly as strong and tall as the men, perhaps owing to the heavy work they do. By sunset the second meal is ready.

They have little notion of the division of labour. Natives have not arrived at such a pitch of education that one of them would spend his days in making the sixth part of a pin. The little girls from their earliest years are initiated into all parts of the mysteries of hoeing, reaping, milling, and cooking. The men are equally ignorant of the advantages and disadvantages of division of labour. Each man builds his own house, and makes his own furniture. The only trade that can maintain a special existence is working in iron—a trade embracing mining, smelting, and forging. Even in this case most natives know the secrets of the trade; but to be specially successful they need to obtain a charm.

Agricultural work is the great means of a livelihood. It yields a great return, for every seed the natives sow they expect to reap hundreds. A little before the rains they begin to hoe their ground. They first clear all the trees and wood, which they collect in heaps and burn on the spot. They use no other manure. When they do work for the English they say they hoe very slowly, because they are told to hoe deep; but when they hoe their own land they hoe fast, as a scratch on the surface is considered sufficient. When the rains come they plant. After the maize grows they set up the soil round the stems as farmers do with potatoes.

Each house has generally what we might call a garden; but the natives have no fancy for flowers. The wild flowers in the wood they recognise as being very pretty; but they laugh at any one that plucks them. They fancy that a lover of flowers culls them for some charms. The natives have no word for a garden as distinct from a cultivated field or farm, but they have often round their houses little beds of tobacco, great quantities of manioc, and several other useful plants. Indian hemp is also much cultivated, and is nearly as bad as opium. Near Mazaro opium is cultivated by a Portuguese Company.

F².—Races And Chiefs.

As we pass out of Portuguese territory we find ourselves in the country of a chief called Matekenya, on the Lower Shire (Chiri). His people are the Achikunda. When we reach the Ruwo or Ruo we are perhaps about two days from Blantyre by land. Here we come to what are called the Magololo, whose paramount chief is Makukani, although many of the others, as Katunga and Chiputula, seem to view themselves as independent of him. Still they say that if he commands they must all follow him to war. These men though aliens, have established themselves as rulers over the Anyasa. There is no Magololo tribe here. Passing through these Anyasa we ascend to Blantyre, where we find ourselves with a chief called Kapeni, who rules another tribe called the Wayao (Yao), with whom we are best acquainted.

Then about Zomba, which is other two days farther on, we encounter the Machinga, who speak practically the same language as the Wayao, and this language carries us far beyond. Several great chiefs on the east side of Lake Nyassa are Machinga. Again, when we stand on the south side of Mount Zomba and look over Lake Chirwa[3] (Shirwa) towards the rising sun we see mountains that are peopled by the Angulu (or Walolo).

The tradition is that the Anyasa first inhabited the land everywhere about Zomba; but that the Angulu, who lived at one time on the other side of the river Lujenda, began to fight the Machinga. The Machinga then went and encountered the Wayao, who, in turn, pressed on and drove from their home at Zomba the Anyasa tribe, many of whom now live under the Magololo on the Lower Shire[3] (Chiri), _i.e._, the Shire below the cataracts.

The Anyasa are also called Anyanja, both words in different languages of the district mean river- or lake-people. The word Wayao (or Achawa) suggests a derivation from the personal pronoun. Yao regularly means “their” (_ipanje yao_ means their property). So the Awa of Achawa is identical with the personal pronoun. I am inclined to interpret the name as “The people that hold their own!” until I find something more satisfactory. The Machinga are really the same tribe, and are called the “fighting branch of the Yao”. The derivation of their name is in harmony with this view.

It is instructive to note the descriptions that these tribes give of other tribes that live at a distance, and are barely known to them. I had heard such strange particulars about the Makua that I thought they must be a peculiar people; now so they are, but only just as the Wayao are peculiar. It was the old story; every race considers itself perfection, and points to a mote in the eye of a brother race. The language of the Makua is quite similar to Machinga. I travelled to London with a Makua with whom I had little difficulty in conversing.

There are two great Wayao chiefs in the district of Blantyre, who are called Kapeni and Kumpama, and whose head quarters are at Mounts Sochi and Cherasulo respectively. These are the two large territorial chiefs. Mkanda of Cherasulo, was at first a headman of Kumpama’s, but rebelled, and lives on the southern side of that mountain; an easy day’s march from Blantyre. Kumpama’s territory begins about six miles from Blantyre at a stream called the Luunsu, and extends to the Namasi, on which is the old site of the Magomero Mission. The next great centre of population as we march to the north-east is Zomba, one side of which is owned by Chemlumbe, a Yao chief. The other side belongs to Malemya, a more powerful man, who is a Machinga. A little way beyond there is Mount Chikala, where a still more powerful chief called Kawinga resides; he is also a Machinga. If we look towards the south from Zomba we see a great mountain, Mlanje, this marks the domain of Matapwiri. When we wish in Quilimane to ask for a man who speaks Chiyao or Machinga, we ask for a person from Matapwiri’s country. There a Matapwiri is used for a simpleton—one that has not seen the world. It is with this chief that the Yao of the coast are most associated, as the slave gangs for Quilimane used to set out from his village.

G.—Travelling And Salutations.

_Native Roads._

The native roads are never straight; at best they glide along by an easy succession of curves. Sometimes the amount of curvature is very annoying. The path is little more than a foot broad. Each side is covered with tall grass, which reaches over the traveller’s head. You can only see four or five paces in front, and you can never predict what course the path will take after that. The causes of curvature are numerous. Here a tree fell down long ago and lay across the path. While it still lay every traveller went round the end of it, and the original path was abandoned, and replaced by grass that no traveller will care to interfere with. At another place the path turned aside to go through a little village; but the village has passed away years ago. At another spot some one had hoed a field, and made the road go round its border. There are cases too where the path may have deviated to avoid marshes and difficult crossings. On many roads we lose one mile in every five. After the grass is burned, or in bad soil where very little grass grows, one may have the pleasure of going in a straight line; but where the grass is at all represented no one can pass through it without the greatest exertion. If a person leave a native path with the idea of taking a short cut, he may get into a tangle of long grass and bushes, where his progress will be not more than one mile in four hours.

_Grass Fires._

One of the best sights in Africa is a large grass fire. No fireworks in Britain can for a moment compare with this. Broad plains will keep burning for weeks. At the mission on the side of Mount Zomba, which overlooked a plain of several days’ journey, the sight of these fires was very impressive. The trees in the country suffer much.

_Salutations._

The natives in saluting each other say “moni”—a corruption of the English “morning”. So general did this word become that we have heard people inclined to fancy that there must really be a native word “moni!” The native salutation is “mugonile?” “Have you slept well?” Sometimes friends will ask each other “Are you well?” “Is all well at your home?”

A party arriving at a village observes the greatest formality. After getting an introduction to the chief of the village he begins to explain the object of his visit. The explanation is generally most tedious—it seems to go from the creation downwards—every step being carefully traced, whether in action or in motive, till the moment of the arrival!

The natives have the greatest respect for the older people. The title of father is given to such. If we ask anything of a younger man about 30 years of age he will say “I am only a child; ask the old men of gray hairs”. All the English are saluted as father; even a white child of a few months is saluted in the words, “moni, moni, atati!” (morning, morning, father).

_The Inferior Position of Women._

The women hold an inferior position. They are viewed as beasts of burden, which do all the harder work. When a woman meets any men on the path the etiquette is for her to go off the path, to kneel (tindiwala), and clap her hands to the “lords of creation” as they pass. Even if a female possess male slaves of her own she observes this custom when she meets them on the public highway. A woman always kneels when she has occasion to talk to a man. The custom very rapidly disappeared in the region of the missionaries. When we saw a woman go out of her way, carrying perhaps half a hundred-weight on her head, with the intention of kneeling down, and reflecting, as she must, that with her load she might have difficulty in getting up, we have often playfully shouted out, “You are losing your way; this is the path,” and she took it for granted that she might dispense with the clumsy ceremony.

Chapter II.

Native Arts And Literature.

H.—Trades And Manufactures.

The chief method of obtaining a livelihood is by cultivating the soil. Near a lake abounding with fishes, the cultivation of the soil, though not abandoned, may take a secondary place. In districts abounding with game, the men as a rule hand over all agricultural work to their wives and slaves. Fishing and hunting are looked on as being more dignified occupations than hoeing.

_Work in Iron._

Skilled labour is exemplified chiefly in their blacksmiths. Still the smith does not live so exclusively by his trade that he can neglect his farm, and in his operations he has sometimes so many assistants that his peculiar position is compromised.

Iron is found in many places. It is dug up and brought to a furnace or small kiln (ng’aso) made of clay. A charcoal fire is kept blazing by means of clay pipes or hollow bamboos, which communicate with the bottom of the kiln, and are used as the pipes of a bellows. For a bellows they use a goat’s skin. Of iron they make hoes, spears, arrow-heads, knives, &c. Their hoes have no iron ring for fixing a handle. A hole is bored by means of a heated iron (there are no drills) in the handle, and the end of the hoe is inserted.

When a man wants a pocket handkerchief, it is to the blacksmith that he must go. The pocket handkerchief is made of iron and shaped somewhat like a spoon. The point of it is turned up so as to enter the nostril, and as the native has no pockets, it is hung round the neck.

_Wood-work and Basket-work._

The worker-in-wood has hardly a distinct trade. Nearly every man does his own wood-work. They make mortars by hollowing out part of the trunk of a tree with a bent axe. The work takes about four days. Drums are made in the same way—their ends are covered with python skins. Certain drums are beaten on the breast; the larger are not lifted from the ground. We have heard the sound of some of those at five miles’ distance. Chairs in imitation of animals are cut out of the trunk of a tree; but the legs are easily broken, as they run at right angles to the cleavage of the timber. Similarly they make large birds, wooden pillows, and plates.

Many things are made of bamboos (milasi) and reeds (matete). The tribes on the hills thus make beds and baskets in endless variety. The beds are not clumsy. One can easily “take them up and walk”. They are mats made of thin slips of bamboo, which are sewn together by a bamboo needle. They remind us of a Venetian blind, only the slips lie side by side without overlapping. They can be folded up in the form of a cylinder and earned conveniently under the arm (but the native carries his loads on his head). The borders of their baskets are thin broad pieces of wood, which are bent into a circular form, and sometimes curiously carved. A similar ornamental device, simpler in pattern, is seen on their clay pots. Good hats are made of the mlasa.

_Bark Cloth, &c._

They go and strip a tree of its bark, which they soften in water, and beat with an ebony hammer till it forms a cloth. This was the ordinary clothing of the people before the missions. Now it is worn above other clothes on a rainy day. It very soon tears. The work is very tedious, much beating being required. One hears the sound of the hammer long before he comes to the spot. The piece of bark is laid on a large log; after being well hammered, it becomes quite thin. The cloth thus formed is much wider than the original piece of bark had been.

Cotton grows plentifully. All the natives can make thread of it. One of their most tedious occupations is to make cloth. They do this in a very rude manner, and only make small strips at a time. Each thread has to be put separately in its place by the hand. Very few natives have courage for this tedious manipulation; but the cloth when made is strong and highly esteemed; it resembles bath towels.

They dye the English calico that it may last longer, but they preserve gaudy dresses without dyeing. A root is used for soap where the European article cannot be got.

Their pots are all made of clay by the women. Some of their clay vessels are a beautiful red. In their cooking they use no metals; English pots and pans speak to them of arts that are far beyond them. Their food is boiled in a clay pot, which is propped up on three stones. Another pot is turned down to serve for a lid.

Men of considerable skill are called alupa or apalu, and are believed to have strong medicine or charms.

If any one were to describe our English industries, he could not dispose of the subject in a short paragraph. But in Africa these industries do not strike us so much. They are not such a large item in human life. We see none of the working at high pressure that meets us everywhere at home. There are no crowds of pale-faced men and girls rushing along almost mechanically in response to some factory bell. There are no poor clerks cooped up in dingy counting-houses—no students with aching heads, trying to dispense with sleep. There are no careworn parents whose hard toil barely supports their children. The African has about him an air of stillness and repose that is in beautiful harmony with the scenery around. His life is not a struggle for existence. He does not care to work against time. Ambition does not drag him behind its chariot wheels. If we were to rank the Africans in classes, we should put down most of them as “gentlemen in easy circumstances”. Their circumstances are easy not because their gratifications are many, but because their wants are few.

The way in which their industries come before our notice is like this. We take a walk in the country. By the side of some brook we find a man or two digging for iron ore. They are surrounded by companions with whom they keep up a cheerful conversation. Some are ready to assist in carrying the ore to the furnace. They carry clay also, which is to be plastered on their kiln. How are these loads to be transported? There are no carts, no wheelbarrows, and no roads suitable for either. Neither have they any boxes or baskets. What are they to do? One lad darts into the bush and cuts a bundle of wands; he then takes his knife and splits each wand (if he be not content to use it whole), and there, he says, is his basket. The white man replies, “Yes; these wands might make a basket if you had anything to tie them together”. Immediately the youth tears off strips of bark, and exclaims, “Here’s the black man’s rope,” and soon the load is tied up in the middle of his basket.

As we pass along the stream we find indications of agricultural work also, but on these we do not dwell, as it is the more special trades we wish to illustrate. Already we see women washing their grain at the stream for we are advancing on little hamlets. Now we hear the peculiar tap, tap, tap of the hammer on the bark-cloth, as it mingles with the notes of the birds. Under the trees we can descry a group of men splitting up bamboos and smoothing the slips to form a bed. In a shaded verandah we find an old woman or two moulding some soft clay. It looks a shapeless mass, but it is “in the hands of the potter”. Each worker has found some ochre, for she is fond of ornamental tints. A potsherd is by her, and she has calculated the precise form she will give her vessel.

[Illustration: NATIVE PIPES AND POTTERY.]

Soon we reach the village green. Here we find a number of men sitting doing nothing. It may be that one is sewing a cloth, while the others loll upon mats and dreamily watch his hands. An ardent youth may approach the group and astonish us by taking from under his loin cloth a reel and some cotton, which he proceeds to make into thread. There are in that dark group all the elements of human nature that we find in busier lands. But in African life there is nothing of the bustle and hurry and scramble, nothing of the care and worry, the headache and heartache, that are found in England.

We cannot leave the group without asking ourselves, “What has all our boasted civilisation done?” Are we any happier than these rude natives? We shall see by and by that they are not exempt from hardship and injury. Their valleys and mountains witness many a sorrowful scene. But after we have placed a policeman in every corner, hardship and injury are still in our midst. Does it not seem as if there were some bankruptcy about human nature? For a hundred generations we have tried all manner of experiments with Governments and Institutions. We have moved them backwards and forwards like pieces on a draught board. In all this have we not been proving our bankruptcy? We have been diligently trying the most improved methods of book-keeping, but the result has only been to chase the deficit out of one column into another. The deficit is still there!

Yes. But above the clouds and storms we have the blue vault of heaven. The pale factory girl, the over wrought mechanic, the anxious student may all have a peace that passeth understanding. As the missionary is surrounded by the heathen, he feels that his message to them has not so much to do with civilisation. They are not disposed to trouble about mechanical improvements in their unsettled land; but in their unsettled land they are arrested by an expression like “Fear not them that kill the body, and after that have nothing that they can do”. Startling words to those that pass their days in fear of them that kill the body! These are surely whispers from some other world! Those dark figures have often gazed upon “the heavens above and the earth beneath” without making much of the vast mystery. They are likely to make more of the Scripture message. One of the oldest will turn on his mat and quietly remark, “Father, if you are speaking the truth, we are all living in darkness”.

I.—The Learned Professions.

What corresponds among the Africans to the clergymen, doctors, and lawyers of modern England? It will be found that in Africa these professions are not distinct, just as in Mediæval England the monks did all the teaching, healing, and advising. With reference to worship we shall find that the chief of the country and the chief of a village take prominent places.

_The Physician._

The healing art is practised most purely by the Msing’anga. Some of the methods are these:—_Cupping_ by means of a horn, whose end is stopped by bees wax. The blood that fills the horn is thrown to the ground, and the disease falls with it. _Counter-irritation._—Sometimes the physician will be content by making a number of incisions chiefly along the legs; on other occasions he will rub in vegetable ashes. _Administration of medicine_, which consists chiefly of plants and their roots; the Yao word for medicine means also a tree. The natives extract arrows by cutting all round the wound. They never amputate in order to heal, but they are able to cut off limbs very neatly, and are fond of practising the art on criminals and enemies.

But a great part of the treatment is by charms. Even where the native knows a good cure he looks on it as a charm, and his use of it is accompanied by much senseless mummery. This will be understood when we remember that diseases are supposed to be caused by witchcraft.

_The Sorcerer._

This brings us to speak of a more terrible member of the learned professions, viz., the sorcerer, diviner, or witch-doctor (mchisango). The “cup wherewith he divineth” is called chisango.

He is appealed to after the physician or herbalist has failed. He is asked to tell what witch causes the disease. He may find one, and the person that he accuses of witchcraft goes with a present to the sick person, who recovers immediately.

The diviner may be consulted on any matter. He is the great adviser of the people in all their difficulties. A person goes to him, and puts as many questions as he likes, and receives answers. These conversations are very interesting; but all that I have heard are so very intricate that it is impossible to do justice to them in an abridgment. “My female slave has gone away, what am I to do?” The diviner tells what he is to do if she have gone to Cherasulo, and what he is to do if she have gone to another place. He mentions what will happen if he goes to ask for her according to the individual that he may ask, &c., &c. Part of the advice may have reference to the spot where he will obtain a medicine helpful in his negotiations.

While these diviners give their response they shake a small gourd[4] filled with pebbles, and inspect pieces of sticks, bones, claws, pottery, &c., which are in another gourd. They often give sound advice, and they pretend to get it by this inspection, as it might otherwise give offence to their client.

Some of the diviners are the most intelligent men in the country. They claim high fees. One time we told a diviner very candidly our opinion of his art, insisting that his advice was sound, and deserved to be paid for, but that he knew as well as I that it did not come from the withered-looking contents of the gourd, but from his own judgment. The man took no offence, and though he lived at some distance he made a point of coming thereafter to our Sabbath meetings.

These men are the great agents in detecting and trying witchcraft. In one respect they, and not the chiefs, form the judicial tribunals of the land, although they play into the hands of the chiefs or any rich man that pays handsomely. After they have detected a criminal he must be tried. The trial takes place by the drinking of the poisoned cup—mwai. Consequently the diviner had better be on good terms with the professional “pounder of poison” (mpondela mwai), whose duty it is to administer this poisoned draught to the accused. This, in case of guilt, at once convicts and punishes, the poison causes death. In case of innocence the poison is vomited, and the accused is acquitted.

The witch-detective is at the head of the divining profession, and is referred to in almost every case of death, and sometimes in smaller cases, as where life was in danger (107).

K.—Medicines And Charms.

A great many trees are supposed to have virtues. Each native knows this, and becomes to some extent his own doctor. Pain in the stomach is treated by the bark of the mbawa; headache by rubbing externally with ashes of the msolo, as also by certain charms put round the temples. The first thing a native does in headache is to tie a string tightly round his brow. The symptom of cold and shivering is treated by bathing in “water of the mkako”. For ulcers they use the mlonde. Ulcerated legs is one of the commonest maladies that attack children. For a time English treatment of these was brought into discredit, as the children would carelessly tear off the dressings and bandages. One native treatment was to tie on a broad leaf by strips of bark (which serves as their thread), and leave it till the sore had improved.

A common war medicine is to eat the heart of an enemy.

Medicine to keep the hunter from danger and to render him successful is much prized. Elephant medicine they buy from each other at the highest prices they can afford. They have many miscellaneous charms—some tied about their bodies, others on their guns. They have a very effectual arrow poison.

One time a leopard was killed by strychnia. A chief and his Prime Minister came to Zomba Mission very secretly to beg for this “medicine”; it was to be sprinkled into the mortars where the flour of their enemies was pounded. The experiment was trusted to by its promoters as likely to be very successful, a point which was not at all doubtful. Great was the disappointment when the poison was refused.

The goats belonging to the Mission seemed to get on very well, and Mr. Buchanan was beset with many entreaties for a medicine to increase the goats of the neighbouring chiefs.

When a fowl hatches, the egg shells that have been forsaken by the young brood are carefully collected and hung up in the house of their owner to preserve the chickens from hawks and other dangers.

After they have planted their crops, the field is often protected against theft by charms which they buy. Pieces of string, either twisted from native cotton or made of the bark of a tree, are thus used.

On one occasion Dr. Macklin was called to prescribe for a woman. He asked to see her tongue. His quick observation detected at the same time signs of excitement and temper about her, and he advised her to try to be agreeable with her husband and friends. It appears the woman was a great scold; and the natives were astonished to find that the Doctor could discover this by looking at her tongue! That he had a great “charm” was beyond all doubt.

L.—Traditional Literature.

These people have, of course, no writing. We met with many that had never seen a book before. The sight of pictures impressed them so much that their first impulse was to run away supposing that the little painted lion or leopard was dangerous. By and by some one in the crowd discovers that this lion is quite thin! He has looked at the back of the paper and found that the body of the lion is not there! Some of the boldest, after we assure them of safety, will even put their hands upon him. The attitude of old and young is one of utter, speechless amazement.

But these people are rich in a traditional literature. It meets us in at least four distinct forms. 1. Ndawi or conundrums. Some of them are quite short, as “the house without a door,” for an egg. An incredible number of these is in common circulation, and known to most boys and girls. I noted down over 150 of them.

There are other conundrums in the form of a little story.

2. Ndano, or tales. These are also called ndawi, because many of them resemble the conundrums in having a double meaning. Some of these, we might almost say most of these, when complete have songs in them, which are repeated every now and then at each crisis in the tale. They are often recited in this form on public occasions.

I got one old man that was as enthusiastic in his recitals as the old Homerids are said to have been. When I was writing to his dictation my private study became a small theatre. In vain I reminded him that the nursery was near! His voice was audible in the outside, scores of yards from the house. School children stopped their games, and came giggling about, and demure old natives would turn off the public highway and advance in amazement. Yet even so my old man was not satisfied—his enthusiasm, he thought, fell short of the occasion, and he introduced two young women to sing responses to the chants. The natives do not speak of “telling a tale,” but of “singing a tale” (kwimba ndawi).

3. Nyimbo or Songs. These may be extemporised—music, responses and all, on the shortest notice. But there is a great collection of old songs, many of which can be identified as being the songs of several tales (L. 2), even where they are used independently. Indeed the singers could seldom point to the corresponding tale; it was only when we happened to know the tale before that we could claim the song for it. Still many songs we believe to be quite independent. The music is a simple chant. Those that are not reciting join in responses. The language of the songs is more difficult than that of the tales, and still more difficult is the language of the catch-word literature (L. 4).

Many of their songs aim at being an echo of tuneful nature around them. One beautiful chant imitates a little brook as it goes murmuring down its stony channel. The singers intentionally render this song in a subdued voice. I could not find any corresponding tale. It calls up to my mind the idea of a mother sitting with a few children on the bank (chiko) of a small stream as she has finished her hoeing, and rests for a minute before going home. She warns the children against the Likwanya or prickly bush that grows by the stream. This strain sung so softly has a soothing effect, and might well make the children sit down on the bank, engrossed with the sound of the rippling stream imitated in the music.

Sung in a company of little girls it is rendered thus—

_1st Voice._ Likwanya likunyanya ku chiko. _Response._ _Anyanyale._

_1st Voice._ { singing } Likwanya likunyanya ku chiko. _2nd Voice._ {simultaneously.} Anya-nya-nya-le e.

_1st Voice._ { simultaneous. } Anya-nya-nya-le e. _2nd Voice._ { } Likunyanya ku chiko.

_1st Voice._ { simultaneous. } Likunyanya ku chiko. _2nd Voice._ { } Anya-nya-nya-le e.

_Response._ _Anyanyale._

After this the girls that have sung the parts marked 1st voice and 2nd voice fall back on the response; and a 3rd and 4th voice take these parts. All the voices that are not reciting join in the response.

Another song has reference to a large bird, the ndututu. One voice designedly imitates its notes as it converses with a few women; while another voice imitates as distinctly the pounding of corn in which these women are engaged.

4. The fourth form of their literature is in certain catch-word compositions (chitagu), which have double meanings. The following is a specimen when there are two speakers or reciters:—

The First Says. The Second Says.

Nda. Nda kuluma. Kuluma. Kuluma mbale. Mbale. Mbale katete. Katete. Katete ngupe. Ngupe. Ngupe akane. Kane. Kane akongwe. Kongwe. Akongole chimanga. Chimanga. Chimanje macholo. Macholo. Gachole wandu.

Long tales are carried on in this way. One effect sought after is to bring together words similar in form, but differing in meaning, as if we were to catch up the last word of our sentences thus:—

Come forward, shew thys_elf_! _Elf_ dost thou call me, vile pretender?

In this form of literature we meet with plays upon words—an unusual phenomenon in unwritten languages. In the conundrums proper (L. 1) we met with only one case of a play on words. We are asked, “What is the girl that decks herself?” The word for “deck” happens also to mean “shine,” and the answer is “the moon”.

Having now spoken of the forms in which this literature has been handed down we shall say something of its matter or contents.

A great part of it consists of fables regarding the lower animals where the characteristics of these animals are brought out. The rabbit is the clever hero of all the tales, much as the fox is in European tales. The hyena (litunu) is celebrated for its greediness. The litunu is a large carrion eater, which stands, we think, rather higher than the lion. In one tale the hyena is always begging food from the lion. The lion makes a buck climb a tree, so that its shadow is reflected in the water; this reflection is pointed out to the hyena, who at once casts himself into the river.

The following may stand for an example of their tales:—There was once a hyena and a leopard. They went a journey, and the hyena picked up a tortoise, and told the leopard, saying, “See, I have picked up my[5] tortoise”. The leopard said, “Give it me that I may see it”. He gave it him, then the leopard threw the tortoise away. One day they heard that the tortoise was a doctor. Then the hyena and the leopard arranged to go to the tortoise, and beg medicine for hunting. They went, they found the tortoise, and said, “We have come for medicine for hunting”. The tortoise gave the leopard beautiful spots, and the hyena ugly spots, because the hyena had wished to eat the tortoise; then he gave them horns of medicine, and said to them, “If you find meat that died of itself you must not eat it”. Then the hyena and the leopard went to hunt. On the path they found an animal that had died of itself. The hyena said, “Leopard, my friend, behold an animal that has died of itself”. But the leopard said, “Come, let us go away”. The hyena said, “Pshaw! we must not eat meat that died of itself?” Then the leopard said to the hyena, “That doctor said to us, should you find meat that died of itself, you must not eat it”. The hyena said “Pshaw! not quite!” The leopard went to the bush, but the hyena returned to the doctor, and said, “Tortoise, I have found meat that died of itself. Is it a transgression to look at it?” The tortoise said, “No, it is not a transgression”.

The hyena went to his meat and gazed on it. Then he went back again to the doctor and said, “I have looked at it”. Then he said again, “Is it a transgression to lick it?” The tortoise said “No”. The hyena then went to his meat and licked it. Then he returned again to the tortoise and said, “Is it a transgression to remove it from the path?” The tortoise said “No”. The hyena then went to his meat and removed it off the path, and threw it far away. He returned again to the tortoise and said to him, “I have removed it”. And the tortoise said, “Very well”. The hyena asked again saying, “Is eating it a transgression?” The tortoise said, “You will not swallow it?” The hyena said “No”. Then he went back to his meat and ate it, and came back to the tortoise and said, “I have eaten that meat”. But the tortoise said, “You have transgressed, hyena, you will not be a hunter, but the leopard will be a good hunter, I gave him a horn of medicine”. So the leopard caught much meat, but the hyena did not know how to catch meat. The tortoise had said, “Hyena, O chief, your name is hyena”.

We may here note that the naming of the animals is a subject on which they have many legends. The names, too, in most of their legends about persons, are significant, and accord with the moral of the story.

It must not be forgotten that all the natives’ names have a meaning It is common for men and women to bear the names of animals; thus we may have a Mr. Cock, Mr. Lion, and so on. We almost think that their children when hearing these stories for the first time would think of “hyena,” “leopard,” &c., as being people who bore these names.

Several stories relate to fowls and birds. Fowls are stated to have been at first wild, and after a while to have been domesticated. One fowl was visited by a guinea-fowl. The latter was greatly astonished that the housewife threw out food for them—that a comfortable house was provided—and every kindness shewn; but just as all these things were favourably impressing the guinea-fowl the hungry husband returned and said, “Kill that fowl as a relish for my porridge”.

Many such tales evince a wonderful sympathy for animals. The natives are greatly distressed by the visits of a large crow to their crops. Yet they have a tale which makes them excuse the depredations. “Once on a time a chief was puzzled over some case, and could get no advice till a crow came and put matters quite right. This crow was handsomely rewarded by a gift of beans and other seeds. It proceeded to carry these home, but dropped many on the way; now when the crow rifles the native’s fields it is looking for some of those lost seeds and their fruit.”

They have a great many tales embodying theories on the creation of the world, to which we shall allude below (13). The introduction of arts and manufactures is also an important theme. We are told of a woman that found people with plenty of corn, but no porridge. They simply chewed their grain. This lady produced a mortar and procured flour. Hollow stones they say gave place to pots, in the same way as caves were abandoned for houses. They speak of a time when they hoed with wood. It was after they could use iron knives that they dug down, and could put in their posts as they do in their modern houses. The first clothing was bark. Death was introduced by a woman who taught two men to sleep; she held one’s nostrils, and he never awoke. “Death and sleep,” the legend remarks, “are one word.”

Monkeys were at one time human beings who quarrelled with their friends, and went to stay in the bush. Though the natives admit that the monkeys are their cousins, they are not slow in pointing out where they differ from men. We said to one woman who was severely censuring the monkeys for eating her crop, that she should give them some corn to see whether they would not raise a crop for themselves. She replied that monkeys would not leave their seed in the ground—they would pick it up and eat it. It is not everyone that would have fixed so promptly on such a characteristic difference between men and monkeys. They give many tales of experiments tried to make human beings out of monkeys, specially in the case of women that were barren and wanted a child; but, after the most careful training, these “children” always rejoined their own “kind”.

_Relation to Tales of Other Lands._

There are also many wonderful tales regarding people that crossed lakes or rivers; but at the time we did not note these so carefully, as we considered that it was possible that our narrator might modify it in accordance with teaching that he had heard from the Scriptures.

Since we arrived in England, however, we find that Bishop Callaway has written down stories exactly similar, and indeed hardly so circumstantial, which he received from the Amazulu. On looking over his collection we find several that correspond, chiefly as regards the most striking feature of the story, with some of ours. This shows what we had been convinced of long before, that some of these traditions had been recited at a period when the ancestors of the Amazulu and of these Nyasa tribes were one people.

The following is an instance of the kind of resemblance:—In one of the tales of Bishop Callaway a young man tries to destroy the cubs of a leopard. He kills them one by one; and the point by which the deception was carried out was to hand the cubs to their mother one by one. When only one cub was left he handed this cub several times according to the number of children. The leopard thought that the same cub handed to her three times was three cubs. In a collection of ours that was sent home in 1880, and since printed, a “rabbit” or fox cheats a lioness by the same peculiar strategy.

In the stories themselves there is little to give us any note of time or antiquity. They are liable to modification too in important particulars. Thus one man will tell a wonderful story of what a hero effected by his gun. He judges that a European would despise the hero if he were armed only with a bow and arrows. But another narrator of the same story may remark on his variation that guns did not come till long after.

After we have had a tale written, we have, in order to obtain explanations, asked the same man to repeat it, and where he had given any expression that seemed to vary from the more usual form of language, we have observed that he kept as faithfully to such expressions as if he had been reading from a book. We had little doubt that, as he confessed, he had before him some recital that had produced an impression in his early years.

As to the amount of this species of literature it is difficult to be certain. The number of conundrums (1) we think does not much exceed 250. I find that I have written out more than 100 tales (2), and I have listened to at least 150 others which I did not write out. I merely noted new words and points in grammar. The traditional songs (3) may be as numerous as the tales. Of the catch-word compositions (4), at least the longer ones, I should not expect to find more than 50.

Before I left I had difficulty in finding new specimens of 1, 2, and 4. Mr. Buchanan, in his study of the language, was collecting specimens of native literature at the same time, and we had begun to think that we had nearly exhausted the field so far as the more pointed tales were concerned. New reciters generally wished to give us what we had already. Our contributors represented a wide district. My list included Wayao, Machinga, Anyasa, Angulu, Achipeta, Achikunda, and Awisa. But the tales seemed to be common to all these tribes. A Machinga was generally familiar even with the tales of a native of Quilimane. Where this was not so we considered the tale as merely local and of no antiquity.

We have given translations of several tales in the appendices.

Ethology.

Chapter III.

Beliefs About God.

Articles 1-107.

The following statements on the Ethology or the customs of these races are taken from the very words of the natives themselves. Natives are generally quite agreed as to what their customs are. Where they gave different views I have noted both, after finding that both had real authority. I do not think I have admitted any point of importance without having heard at least four natives on the subject. The statements are translations, as far as possible, from the _ipsissima verba_ of the negroes.

1.—The Nature Of Man.

An ancient philosopher was asked by his friends when he was dying what they should do with him after his death. “All very well,” was the reply, “if you can catch me.” The Materialist tells us that there is nothing to catch, that there is nothing that runs away from the body at death, but the Spiritualist says, “You have only the remains of the man there—only the instrument that he used to work with”.

What is the position of these African tribes with regard to this question? They are unanimous in saying that there is something beyond the body which they call spirit (lisoka) or pure spirit (lisokape). Every human body at death is forsaken by this spirit; but the spirit of a child that dies about four or five days’ of age gets nothing of the usual attention (45).

2.—Immortality.

“Do these spirits ever die?” Some I have heard affirm that it is possible for a troublesome spirit to be killed (5, 4). Others give this a direct denial. Many like Kumpama of Cherasulo say, “You ask me whether a man’s spirit ever dies. I cannot tell. I have never been in the spirit world, but this I am certain of, that spirits live for a very long time.” This is a good specimen of cautious answers that the natives often give, and it expresses the belief that they act on with reference to departed spirits.

3.—Who The Gods Are.

In all our translations of Scripture where we found the word GOD we used _Mulungu_, but this word is chiefly used by the natives as a general name for spirit. The spirit of a deceased man is called his Mulungu, and all the prayers and offerings of the living are presented to such spirits of the dead. It is here that we find the great centre of the native religion. The spirits of the dead are the gods of the living.

Besides lisoka (1) and mulungu there is another word for spirit, viz., _msimu_, which is much used in reference to offerings.

4.—Where They Are Found.

Where are these gods found? At the grave? No. The villagers shrink from yonder gloomy place that lies far beyond their fields on the bleak mountain side. It is only when they have to lay another sleeper beside his forefathers that they will go there. Their god is not the body in the grave, but the spirit, and they seek this spirit at the place where their departed kinsman last lived among them. It is the great tree at the verandah (_kwipenu_) of the dead man’s house that is their temple, and if no tree grow here they erect a little shade, and there perform their simple rites. If this spot become too public the offerings may be denied (40), and the sanctuary will be removed to a carefully-selected spot under some beautiful tree. Very frequently a man presents an offering at the top of his own bed beside his head. He wishes his god to come to him and whisper in his ear as he sleeps.

These gods are not confined to one place. In answer to prayer they can protect a man during a long journey, and return with him in peace. When all the villagers are driven from their homes by war these spirits have power to go with them to a new village. The spirit of an old chief may have a whole mountain for his residence, but he dwells chiefly on the cloudy summit. There he sits to receive the worship of his votaries, and to send down the refreshing showers in answer to their prayers.

5.—How The Gods Give Evidence Of Their Existence.

How do the natives know that these gods attend to them? How do they judge that their deceased ancestors can see them through the darkness of the grave?

(1) They judge from the way in which prayers have been answered. If they pray for a successful hunting expedition and return laden with venison or ivory, they know that it is their old relative that has done it, and they give him a thank offering. If the hunting party get nothing, they may say “the spirit has been sulky with us” (_akwete lupuso_), and refuse the thank-offering.

(2) Besides this, their god appears to them in dreams. They may see him as they knew him in days gone by. When they dream of the living there is nothing wonderful in that; but when they dream of the dead it is the departed spirit come to visit them. Such a dream impresses them very much. That being is altogether different since he entered the spirit world. Now he is a god with power to watch over them, and help them, and control their destiny.

(3) The appearance of the gods in dreams is still too hazy. Their craving for clearer manifestations of the deity is satisfied through the prophetess (_juakuweweta_). She may be the principal wife of the chief; in some cases a woman without a husband will be set apart for the god.

The god comes to her with his commands at night. She delivers the message in a kind of ecstacy. She speaks (as her name implies) with the utterance of a person raving with excitement. During the night of the communication her ravings are heard sounding all over the village in a high key.

The whole hamlet is wrapt in slumber, when all at once the midnight stillness is broken by those mad shrieks. The startled inhabitants think it is war—slavers have come—their first impulse is to run away. Their fear soon subsides. It is the prophetess. They are anxious to hear what she has to say, and return to bed again. Or there may be a great meeting in the morning, when the prophetess appears—her head encircled with bhang or Indian hemp, and her arms cut as if for new tatoos.

Various gods reveal themselves thus in various places, either local deities (11), like Mbona of Cholo, or more ordinary gods (25-28).

(4) The gods may appear in animal forms. Some spirits may appear for mischief. If a dead man wants to frighten his wife he may persist in coming as a serpent. The only remedy for this is to kill the serpent, when some go so far as to say that this troublesome spirit is dead, but others say that though the trouble is ended the god is only reduced to a pure spirit (lisokape).

6.—Distinctions Affecting The Gods.

It is usual to distinguish between the spirit and the form it takes. A spirit often appears as a serpent. When a man kills a serpent thus belonging to a spirit, he goes and makes an apology to the offended god, saying, “Please, please, I did not know that it was your serpent”. The departed may assume the form of other animals. A great hunter generally takes the form of a lion or a leopard; and all witches (_asawi_) seem to like the form of a hyena.

There is also a distinction between the spirit and the spirit’s messenger. The spirit, it is said, will not take the form of a bird, but will send a bird with its message. We have this well illustrated in the legend about Che Mlóngolo, which became so popular amongst us at Blantyre. A little boy was allowed by his father to accompany a caravan to the coast; he picked up some curiosities, for which an Arab gave him exceedingly beautiful cloth. His uncle coveted the cloth, abused the boy very much, and ultimately killed him. A little bird flew to his home at the village, and sang on the trees to the women as they pounded their corn, “Ti, ti, ti, diridya; Ti, ti, ti, diridya, they have slain Che Mlóngolo because of his cloth”.

7.—The Priests.

A certain amount of etiquette is observed in approaching the gods. In no case can a little boy or girl approach these deities, neither can any one that has not been at the mysteries (52). The common qualification is that a person has attained a certain age, about 12 or 14 years, and has a house of his own. Slaves seldom pray, except when they have had a dream. Children that have had a dream tell their mother, who approaches the deity on their behalf. (A present for the god is necessary, and the slave or child may not have it.)

Apart from the case of dreams and a few such private matters, it is not usual for anyone to approach the gods except the chief of the village. He is the recognised high priest who presents prayers and offerings on behalf of all that live in his village. If the chief is from home his wife will act, and if both are absent, his younger brother (mpwao). The natives worship not so much individually as in villages or communities. Their religion is more a public than a private matter.

When we went to Blantyre we were accompanied by two small boys that had lived in Quilimane. One night after we were in bed we were startled by a terrible screaming. This was heard by a friend who lived in another house at a short distance from ours, and he came to us judging that we had among us at least a leopard. But the screams were found to have a different cause. The younger boy wished to carry into practice our exhortations about prayer, and for this purpose knelt down on his little mat or bed. The older was more cumbered with much serving, like Martha. He wanted to make his bed tidy, and without ceremony threw the little worshipper off the mat, telling him that it was not proper for him to pray, as he was not a white man (msungu). The rudeness gave rise to fighting and screaming. We mention the incident to show that the bigger boy would hold that he belonged to the village of the white man, and that the white man ought to approach the gods on his behalf.

The chief of a village has another title to the priesthood. It is his relatives that are the village gods. Everyone that lives in the village recognises these gods; but if anyone remove to another village he changes his gods. He recognises now the gods of his new chief. One wishing to pray to the god (or gods) of any village naturally desires to have his prayers presented through the village chief, because the latter is nearly related to the village god, and may be expected to be better listened to than a stranger.

8.—Village Gods.

On the subject of the village gods opinions differ. Some say that every one in the village, whether a relative of the chief or not, must worship the forefathers of the chief. Others say that a person not related to the chief must worship his own forefathers, otherwise their spirits will bring trouble upon him. To reconcile these authorities we may mention that nearly every one in the village is related to its chief, or if not related is, in courtesy, considered so. Any person not related to the village chief would be polite enough on all public occasions to recognise the village god: on occasions of private prayer (which are not so numerous as in Christendom) he would approach the spirits of his own forefathers.

Besides, there might be a god of the land. The chief Kapeni prays to his own relatives, and also to the old gods of the place. His own relatives he approaches himself, the other deities he may also approach himself, but he often finds people more closely related, and consequently more acceptable (7) to the old gods of the land.

9.—Monotheism, Polytheism, Or Pantheism?

After we have settled that there is an object of worship, there are still a great many different positions to hold. We might be Pantheists, Polytheists, or Monotheists.

The position of Pantheism is seldom indicated by natives when describing their religion. We once thought that the class of nouns (in the native language) that _Mulungu_ belongs to was an argument in favour of their Pantheism. One class of native nouns is nearly co-extensive with human beings, and Mulungu is not in this class. But the argument at best is weak.

While Mulungu means a spirit, it may also be used as a proper name. There are two classes of expressions where it is used as a proper name. The first class points to a kind of Pantheism. Mulungu is said to be “the great spirit (msimu) of all men, a spirit formed by adding all the departed spirits together”. These and various other expressions of the same kind indicate a grasping after a being who is the totality of all individual existence, and are not unworthy of notice. If they fell from the lips of civilised men instead of savages they would be regarded as philosophy. Expressions of this kind among the natives are partly traditional, and partly dictated by the big thoughts of the moment. The second class of expressions where we have Mulungu used as a proper name certainly points to a personal being. By the Wayao he is sometimes said to be the same as Mtanga (12). At other times he is a Being that possesses many powerful servants; but is himself kept a good deal beyond the scene of earthly affairs, like the gods of Epicurus. In the native hypotheses about creation “the people of Mulungu” (wa ku Mulungu) play a very important part. This Mulungu in the spiritual world—the world beyond the grave—is represented as assigning to spirits their various places. He arranges them in rows or tiers.

After making an induction of all that we have heard about Mulungu (carefully excluding, of course, every statement that seemed to be in the least modified by Christian teaching), we should say that their religion in its worship was practically Polytheism. At the same time the spirits are often asked to act as mediators with some higher being. Beyond their Polytheism their language contains a few expressions that remind us of Pantheism, and a great many that speak to us of Monotheism.

The derivation of the word Mulungu throws some light on the subject. Henry Salt (1814) says that among the Makuas it means “the sky”. We have heard Yao expressions that would prepare us to accept this interpretation; and the Yao word may be sometimes used for rainbow (which is either Mulungu or ukunje wa Mulungu): it is singular too that Chilungu means earthquake. We think a more correct view lies in the derivation stated by Bleek, which makes it originally mean “great ancestor”.

10.—Number Of The Natives’ Gods.

We saw that every human being has a Mulungu or spirit (2). This position every native will uphold, except perhaps in the case of a young child who has not reached six days of age, and has not been formally introduced into the world or “taken out of the house” (kopoka m’ nyumba) (44). If a child of six days has been introduced into the world though only a day before its death, its spirit is entitled to offerings, and receives these offerings at least from its parents. When the little child meets the parents beyond the grave it will say, “You remembered me; I saw what you were doing”.

The spirit of every deceased man and woman, with the solitary exception of wizards and witches becomes an object of religious homage.

The gods of the natives then are nearly as numerous as their dead. It is impossible to worship all; a selection must be made, and, as we have indicated, each worshipper turns most naturally to the spirits of his own departed relatives; but his gods are too many still, and in farther selecting he turns to those that have lived nearest his own time. Thus the chief of a village will not trouble himself about his great-great-grandfather; he will present his offering to his own immediate predecessor, and say, “Oh, father, I do not know all your relatives, you know them all, invite them to feast with you”. The offering is not simply for himself, but for himself and all his relatives. We ask him, “What if they quarrel with the other relatives about their share of the feast?” “Let them quarrel,” he replies, “I have given them enough.”

_Key to their view of the Spirit World._

We may think that the native chief in selecting his predecessor alone, has left all the rest of the people that once lived in his village without any homage. Here we encounter an important native view that a chief represents and is responsible for all his people. If any one wish to treat with a native village it is with the village chief that he must deal. If we give a present to a village it is to the village chief that we must give it. This does not prevent us from giving presents to any other individual. So it is in the world beyond, which the natives conceive to be peopled in the same way as this world. There the old chief has his wives and slaves and companions about him as of yore. To the natives death is the time when they, in like manner, shall be literally “gathered to their fathers”.

_Nature of Offerings._

The man that makes an offering regards himself as giving a present (mtuka) to a little village of the departed which is headed by its chief. Those that are best known to the offerer may get a present themselves, but they will be expected to call the attention of the chief when a public present arrives.

11.—Local Deities.

We have seen that people residing in a village worship their deceased chief, but when their present chief dies he will become the principal god; more distant relatives give place to successors. But a great chief that has been successful in his wars does not pass out of memory so soon. He may become the god of a mountain or a lake, and may receive homage as a local deity long after his own descendants have been driven from the spot. When there is a supplication for rain the inhabitants of the country pray not so much to their own forefathers as to the god of yonder mountain on whose shoulders the great rain clouds repose. (Smaller hills are seldom honoured with a deity.)

The god of Mount Sochi is Kangomba. One tradition regarding him is this—When the Wayao were driving the Wanyasa out of the country, Kangomba, a Wanyasa chief, saw that defence was hopeless, and entered a great cave on the mountain side. Out of this cave he never returned; “he died unconquered in his own land”. The Wayao made the old tribe retire before them, but the chief Kangomba kept his place, and the new comers are glad to invoke his aid to this day. Their supplication for rain takes the form (Ku Sochi, kwa Kangomba ula jijise) “Oh, Kangomba of Sochi, send us rain”. The Wayao chief Kapeni often asks some of the Wanyasa tribe that can trace connection with Kangomba to help him in these offerings and supplications (7).

12.—Superior Deities.

Beyond and above the spirits of their fathers, and chiefs localised on hills, the Wayao speak of others that they consider superior. Only their home is more associated with the country which the Yao left; so that they too at one time may have been looked upon really as local deities. Among these other beings are Mtanga and Chitowe.

_Mtanga_ some distinctly localise as the god of Mangochi, the great hill that the Yao people left. I regret much that I did not see this hill before leaving Africa, as I have heard so much of it. To these people it is all that the many-ridged Olympus was to the Greeks. The voice of Mtanga, some hold, is still audible on Mangochi. Others say that Mtanga was never a man, and that Mtanga is another word for Mulungu. He was concerned in the first introduction of men into the world (13). He gets credit also for supplying people with seeds, and making mountains and rivers. He is intimately associated with a year of plenty. He is called _Mchimwene juene_ (very chief).

_Chitowe_ (Siluwi) has not such a good character. He is associated with famine. He is often represented as having one leg, one arm, one side of his nose, and so on—the other half of his body being supplied by beeswax. He is invoked by the women on the day of initiating (kuumbala) their fields. The women of a village form a great procession when the new crop has begun to grow. They chant a hymn to Chitowe, imploring him on behalf of their crops. Chitowe may become a child or a young woman. In this disguise he visits villages, and tells whether the coming year will bring food or famine. He receives their hospitality, but throws the food over his shoulder without eating it. Chitowe is a child or subject of Mtanga, and some speak of several Chitowe who are messengers of Mtanga.

_Mpambe_ is often invoked by the Anyasa at great supplications for rain. This Mpambe in the Yao language is “Njasi,” in English “Lightning”. The Yao say that Mpambe is sent by Mtanga with rain. This is a mythological expression of the fact that the lightning in this quarter is always associated with rain.

This last example shows how natural it is for man to deify the powers he sees around him. At first he is greatly touched with all the emotions of “wonder, love, and awe,” as he considers how much he is indebted to the shower that makes his food grow. He is ready to fall down and worship. What shall he worship? The mountain whose lofty summit is clothed with the rain cloud, or the lightning that springs from the cloud? He goes over everything he can fairly associate with the rain, and still he is not satisfied—he craves for something that can understand him.

He looks back to the days of his youth. He remembers a grandfather who told how he had fled from the face of an oppressor, how he had built his home far up near the mountain top, and there brought up his family in safety. By and by as dangers passed away, this ancestor moved farther down the mountain; gradually he increased in power, and in his old age found himself the chief of a clan. Yet he never forgot the days of his adventure, and ever pointed proudly to the spot where he had first found a shelter; and his children’s children, as they listened to the old man’s tale, counted the ground holy. The days come when they can see the old man no more. “But does he not still exist? Yea—did we not hear his words as we listened to sounds that played about the mountain side? Did we not see him, though it was but for a moment, sitting beside his own home as he used to sit long ago? He wore the very same dress. Did he not appear to us in our dreams? There, too, we saw him moving beside his old home. Yes, he is living on our mountain still.[6] He is taking care of us. He knows when we need rain, and he sends it. We must give him something; when he had corn he always gave us. Now, the poor man has no crop; but perhaps his needs are many. We will give him food, we will give him slaves, and he will not forget us.”

There is something full of pathos in the sight of a man invoking his deceased relatives. He has got into great difficulty. None of his friends can assist him, they hardly sympathise with him. His thoughts turn to days when he had no difficulty, to the bright period of which, heathen that he is, he can say, “Heaven is about us in our infancy”. He is so sure that if he only had the grey-headed man that smiled on him then, all his difficulties would vanish. That man could understand him, and believe good of him as he did long ago. Could he but reach him across the portals of the grave all would be well. Thus, with great earnestness, the native turns to the spirits of his fathers.

13.—The Creation—Cosmology.

The existence of the world itself is accepted as a fact not to be explained. But there are legends that explain the introduction of the sun, moon, and stars, clouds and rain; as also how mountains and rivers appeared on the scene. Man, or at least the father of these central tribes, sprang from a hole in a rock, from which the lower animals came also. Around this hole there were abundant footprints of all kinds of animals. It was closed by the people of Mulungu, and is now in a desert place ‘towards the north’ (kumpoto). Subsequent to the appearance of man, many changes occurred specially calculated for his benefit. Thus the mist was sent to keep the sun from burning up the crops—an arrangement that would readily commend itself to these philosophical children of the tropics.

Their legends go on to state that the Wayao, Anyasa, Angulu, Awisa and others sprang from a common stock, and to explain how the tribes separated through one going to one side of the country and another to another. The chief cause of such separations is said to be war. The Zulus and the English belong, they say, to a different stock; where they came from the natives cannot tell. They have a legend about Zulus (Mangoni) coming out in great swarms near a large river; and another legend about a black man crossing a bridge, as he looked round he was greatly astonished to find that a white man (msungu) was following him. The white men are represented as having staid longer with the people of God (Mulungu), and learned more than the black men. With all due deference to the toothless old man who told me that the Zulus are different from the Yao, I am strongly of opinion that although their languages are not mutually intelligible now, there was a time when their forefathers played together by the same streams and hills; but this time is more remote than his legend, which only explained when the Wanyasa separated from his tribe.

Chapter IV.

On Worship And Offerings—Occasions For Worship.

“None shall appear before me empty.”—EXOD. 23, 15.

Starting On A Journey (Ulendo), War, Or Hunting Expedition.

14.—Prayers And Omens.

When a man intends to set out on some expedition he goes to the chief of his village, and tells him. The chief presents an offering (mbepesi) to the spirit of his predecessor. This offering consists of a little flour, which he puts down very slowly at the top of his bed, or he may go to the verandah of the house of his deceased brother. As he puts down the offering he recites the words, “My son has come, he goes a journey, enlighten his eyes, preserve him on his journey, escort this child, may he return with his head unscathed (literally ‘green,’ wa uwisi). Please, please, let him undertake the journey, and be very successful.”

If the flour do not fall so as to form a cone with a fine point there is a bad omen, and the journey is deferred. The remedy for this state of matters is to resort to the oracle (chisango) (I). It is seldom, however, that a bad omen is found at this stage, though some say it is possible. The oracle will explain what is the cause of the bad omen. Probably the man will be told to “try again”. If the cone form beautifully on this occasion, then it will be clear that the god wanted him merely to delay for a day or two, and for some good reason; but if the cone still refuse to form, resort is again had to the oracle. The oracle sets to work, and finds that some deceased relative has a hand in this obstruction. This relative must be propitiated by an offering. Or it maybe that a witch (msawi; Chinyasa, mfiti) is the cause of the trouble; then it is the duty of the oracle to declare who the witch is. This leads to a serious state of matters, which will very probably end in the death of this witch.

A person cannot go to hunt with any assurance of safety till the witch has drunk the poisoned cup (mwai).

We were much affected by a case of this kind that came under our notice. A village chief, Matope, was led to believe that he was bewitched. First his principal wife became seriously ill—the disease was consumption—she was treated with the usual English remedies, and Mrs MacDonald made a bed for her, which took the place of the hard mat upon which the poor native lies down to die. As the native fare is hard as the native bed, and the poor invalid could not relish it, we sent her some soup every day, as well as sugar of which she was exceedingly fond. Ultimately the disease ran its course, going through the same stages as the terrible malady does in England. One day the husband came to me and said, “There is mourning at our home”. The simple words revealed at once that the wife of the village chief was dead.

We fully expected that, notwithstanding our remonstrances, some one would be accused of causing her death through witchcraft; but perhaps owing to the interest that we had taken in his wife all along, no one was accused on this occasion. He had four wives besides, and he soon supplied the place of the deceased by buying another wife, who was “very good to her children”.

Then a little after, the son of one of his other wives having gone out at midnight, a leopard came upon him and caught his foot just at the door of the house as he was running in. The lad was badly bitten, and his mother induced Matope to have resort to the usual methods of detecting witchcraft; the result was that Matope’s own mother was pronounced a witch. We were very sorry for the poor woman. She lived in another village, over the stream from her son’s hamlet. She had always shown us the greatest kindness and hospitality. She was fond of joking and fun, but this sentence made her an object of dread and aversion. Every native now shrunk from her, and her life became a burden. We tried to do everything for her; we gave her presents; invited her to come and see us, and cautioned her against drinking the poisoned cup. We made the village chief promise that it would not be administered. The result was that there was some delay in drinking the ordeal. We made every use of this respite by talking on the matter with Kapeni, the chief of the country, who was her brother, and who promised to use every influence on her behalf. Her son, the village chief, was a very successful hunter. During the delay he could not go to hunt. The superstition was too strong for him. At the same time his mother was anxious to break the spell that bound him, she was so sure that she was innocent. She drank the dangerous cup and died, and however dearly the liberty was purchased, the hunter could now go forth to his usual pursuit.

So much for the danger of being suspected of witchcraft, a suspicion that might arise from flour not falling in the form of a cone. But it is seldom that a bad omen arises while the chief is in the mere act of putting down the flour. After the flour is put down, and has formed a shapely cone, he carefully covers it with a pot, and leaves it all night. During the night he may have a dream about the journey, and this will decide his course. But if he is still undecided he visits his offering early in the morning. Should he find that the cone of flour is broken down on one side (mbali jimo jiwalwiche), that it has not its proper point (lusonga), the omen is bad. The flour is thrown away in the bush, the journey is forbidden by the spirit, and cannot be thought of; and the result is an appeal to the oracle (chisango). But if the flour has preserved its conical form the omen is good, the divinity has accepted the present and granted the request. The village chief tells his man to go forth with confidence.

The Wanyasa depend more upon the dream during night than the appearance of the cone. Some of them say, “Of course, the flour will form a cone if it is put down carefully, and the cone will maintain its form if the rats are kept away”. The Magololo chiefs would not send their children to school until they dreamt.

When the chief has decided on the journey he gives his man a thread (lupota), which is tied round some part of his person, as a token that the god goes along with the expedition. He may give an oil vessel (chisasi) for a similar purpose. The man now takes the necessary supply of food (inga) and fire-arms, bids his wives good-bye, and sets forth on his journey.

15.—Ceremonies Observed By The Wives Of Travellers.

The village chief may immediately call the wives that are left behind, and advise each one to behave with discretion during her husband’s absence, as otherwise she may mar his domestic peace, or even cause his death (82). These wives must observe certain customs during their husbands’ absence. If at any time one of them have a dream she must present a private offering. (In describing the worship connected with a journey, we have been assuming all along that the expedition is of interest to the village chief. This is nearly always the case, for one thing the chief wishes to pray that his villager may be safely restored to him). Should a man undertake a journey that is entirely private, then he may perform the offering himself, or ask his wife to do it for him. They would put down the flour, and watch the formation of the cone as the chief does. All the particulars connected with the success and failure of omens are the same, and if they are relatives of the chief the god invoked is the same. If they are not related to the chief they may pray not to the god of the village, but to the god of their own family.

While a woman’s husband is absent she goes without anointing her head or washing her face. She must not bathe, she scarcely washes her arms, she must not cut her hair. Her oil vessel (chisasi) is kept full of oil till his return, and may be hung up in the house or kept by the side of her bed. This neglect commences, according to some, as soon as her husband has gone. Others allow the moon “to die”; they wait for the new moon before they begin this species of mourning (kuwindika). It continues till the husband return.

16.—Kicking Against The Stumps.

The expedition has started at last—surely all detention from bad omens is at an end. By no means. In a few days the leader of the expedition may appear at the village with all his men. He has hurt his toe on the stump of a tree (chisichi)! The natives, in preparing their ground for cultivation, cut down nearly all the trees. They do not cut close to the earth as an English forester would do. They find it much easier to cut the tree at a thinner part, and leave a stump. Such stumps are all over the cultivated land, and are often found on the footpaths. If a superstitious man strike his foot on one of these at the beginning of an important journey, he considers it to be ominous of evil.

When Julius Cæsar was landing in Africa with his army, he stumbled and fell. This was an unhappy omen. But his presence of mind gave it another turn. He cried out, “Oh, Africa, I embrace thee”. The less superstitious natives calm their fears by a similar method. While some speak with bated breath of the danger of picking up a buck that died of itself, others say “We always pick them up and eat them, and are very glad to have the chance”.

If a superstitious man kick against the stumps, there is no hope for his expedition, he goes back, and the affair is referred to the oracle in the usual way.

A man whose heart is set upon a journey is sometimes wicked enough to disregard an unfavourable omen. His men call his attention to it, and he says “Yes, it is a very unlucky thing; we shall go to the oracle as soon as we return!” This is an evasion nearly as bad as that of the Roman General, who, when told by the soothsayer that the sacred chickens would not eat, said that he would make them drink, and kicked them overboard. Whether the consequences to the native that treats the omens in this off-hand manner are always as serious as they were to the Roman we have not heard. The native who has an unfavourable omen is not at ease in his mind; but we think that these superstitions will soon be overcome in the minds of future generations.

17.—ILL-Omened Snakes.

Some of the strongest superstitions are associated with snakes. If a snake of bad omen, as a sato (python) or a lukukuti, cross the path of a traveller, it is a sign that he will meet with disaster on his journey, and at once he returns to his home. But if the traveller is already on his return journey he does not go back, but goes on to his village expecting to find that everything has gone wrong there. This omen generally betokens a death at the village. If the snake is seen on the right hand, the omen betokens that there is some danger on that side of the road, and similarly if the snake is seen on the left.

Regarding this form of superstition, I once asked a native that strongly professed his belief in it, whether he would turn back on meeting a snake in his way if I gave him a letter for Zomba, and told him that it had to go on quickly. He said, “No; he would not turn back when a white man sent him.” Why? “Because,” he said, “you would laugh at me, and ask why I had not brought the snake home for a specimen!”

When a sungula (rabbit) crosses the path it betokens that the chief will die.

There is a great number of similar superstitions. But it is noteworthy that there is no such superstition about thunder as was among the Romans. To them thunder is ever welcome, associated as it is with refreshing showers.

When the men have been gone some days the villagers conclude that the journey is prospering—the god is accompanying the party. If the chief want to send out others before this party come back, he must send another spirit with them, and there will be no difficulty in finding several suitable escorts among the spirits of his deceased relatives.

After the caravan has been gone for some time the villagers begin to anticipate its return, and to talk of the wealth that it will bring. It may be a hunting expedition, or a journey to the coast to buy beads and cloth, guns and powder, in exchange for ground nuts, slaves, or ivory. As the caravan approaches the village, the news of its arrival goes on before quick as lightning. All eyes are turned toward the direction where the long absent ones are expected to appear. Already some of the villagers are rushing forth to meet them. The returning party fires a salute; the guns of the village reply. All are in ecstacies of joy. The women run out with handfuls of flour, and sprinkle on the heads of the returning heroes. The caravan goes on amid shouts of joy, straight to the village chief, and deposits the goods under his care.

18.—Thankoffering.

The chief immediately makes an acknowledgement to the spirit that escorted the party. He goes to one of his wives and asks her for flour that he may present an offering. He puts down part of this flour in the same way as he did when the expedition started. Then he wets the rest of the flour, and puts it down beside the dry portion. This water-and-flour is supplementary to the dry offering (mesi gakwe). As he presents it he says, “Now we are happy, my children have come back, you have given us much.” When he has finished he claps his hands as a salutation to the spirit, and retires. This expression of thanksgiving is generally made in a private manner.

Public Rejoicing.

Now begins a season of public rejoicing. The whole hamlet makes high holiday. The women may now bathe, and cut their hair, and anoint their bodies with oil. So may their returned husbands. During their journey these men had refrained from using salt. They were afraid to use it (82), for they said, “Perhaps our wives are not behaving well in our home, and we shall die”. Now the chief prepares a great banquet, and calls a medicine man, who puts a charm into the food; the travellers eat of this, and henceforth they may use salt freely.

A large quantity of beer is brewed, and as soon as it is ready the chief and all his visitors go to the verandah of the house of the deceased chief, where all larger offerings are presented. They carry flour and beer, and perhaps some such offering as tobacco. The chief is the first to invoke the spirit saying, “Please, please, Ching’ombe,” or whatever the name may be, “here is beer for you, drink it, we want to live well at our village, and to drink in peace”. He will mention also the happy circumstances connected with the expedition, and hint mildly that when another expedition is necessary they will look for a similar service from the spirit. The sister of the deceased chief will also be an offerer, and any others who may be closely related. They first put down a little offering of flour, and then each takes a cup of beer to pour on the ground as a libation. After the others have presented their offerings the chief finishes the worship by presenting all that is left.

Many guests may be invited. Any that happen to arrive before the offering has been given will accompany the party that goes to present it. All in the village may be present at this offering. It is a kind of public worship. Whatever may be the rank of his guests it is the village chief himself that acts as high priest. Even the chief of the whole country if present would only stand and look on. As soon as the offering is finished, the beer drinking begins. Great is the rejoicing in the village.

If an expedition were unsuccessful, if, for instance, some one died or goods were lost, instead of this rejoicing there would be a mourning. The god would be considered to have deceived them, and behaved very badly.

After the expedition has been the occasion of a public rejoicing, the god is acquitted of all blame. Yet, strange to say, many successful expeditions of this kind—especially when they have been to the coast with slaves and ivory—are the most unfortunate things that could happen to a district. Soon after the beer drinking is over, the goods have to be divided, and in a large proportion of cases so great contentions arise that the chiefs kingdom is divided also.

Other occasions for approaching the gods occur in cases of sickness (19) or famine (20). On these we shall not dwell so long, as the foregoing principles generally apply.

19.—Sickness.

When a man is ill he puts down an offering to his deceased father or mother, saying, “I wish to give you a sacrifice; can you tell us what you want? and I will bring it you”. He first gives this offering himself. He may say, “I am very ill, I wish you to restore me; perhaps a witch wants to kill me, restrain this”. Then he looks for a good dream. An offering of flour is put at the side of his pillow to tempt the spirit to come. If the spirit come not, he tells the chief of his village, who may give an offering in like manner, or he may go at once to the sorcerer (mchisango) and say “We want to see the spirit that has been invoked”. After making inquiries, the sorcerer says the spirit wants such and such; then the required offering is given. If the sick man recover, the matter rests there. In cases that are more serious, the sorcerer will tell him that bad spirits (masoka) have got into his house, that some one has bewitched the house and all his usual places of resort, that he must have another house in the fields. There are other manifest advantages attending this retreat from the busy village.

A house in the fields is built and prepared perhaps that very day. We have not known many cases where the invalid ever returned. Sometimes a poor consumptive patient, when removed to such a house, is drenched with rain, as the thatch is not so good as on the other house.

Rejoicing On His Return.

Great is the rejoicing on the invalid’s return to the village, if ever he return again. Much beer is brewed. The usual sacrifices are given to his god. The recovered patient says, “Now I am happy, I have health; drink you this beer”. Mats are spread out, he sits down upon one, and the physician (msing’anga) is called to his side. The physician pours beer on his patient, and after that, water, and then begins to shave his head. The physician does not present any offering to the village god; but he gives a thank-offering at his own home to his own gods. He returns thanks that “he found medicine for yonder sick man”.

20.—Public Supplication For Rain.

We have seen how the natives invoke the gods when they pray for a prosperous expedition (14) and for health (19). We shall now see what they do when they pray for a good crop—which generally means, in their country, praying for rain.

When there is no rain at the proper season there ensues much distress. Famine is dreaded above all other evils. After private offerings have all failed the chief of the country calls a national meeting for supplication. Much beer is brewed and offered to the spirit. The chief addresses his own god; he calls on him to look at the sad state of matters for himself, and think of the evils that are impending. He requests him to hold a meeting with all the other gods that have an interest or influence in the matter. A council of the gods is believed to be held, and if any god act as an obstructive he is specially propitiated according to the direction of the prophetess.

After the supplication there is a great dance in honour of the god. The people throw up water towards the heavens as a sign that it is water that is prayed for. They also smear their bodies with mud or charcoal to show that they want “washing”. If rain do not come they must wash themselves in the rivers or streams. If rain fall, they are soon washed in answer to their prayers. When the good crop follows, they present as a thanksgiving the first heads of maize and some pumpkins. Before they begin to eat the maize themselves some of the cobs are roasted and offered under the prayer tree (4). In smaller crops, as beans, there is no special offering.

In the South of Africa the power of rain-making has been claimed completely by the rain-doctors. Even here the sorcerers have a great power. Still the chief maintains what we think must have been his prerogative in the earliest times. Does this not shew that these races are a stage nearer the primitive manners than in the South where such a priesthood has been developed?

DREAMS afford another occasion for offerings (41).

The Nature Of The Offerings. General Offerings.

21.—The Native Flour.

Of the ordinary offerings to the gods (which are just the ordinary food of the people), flour is the commonest. The natives eat it themselves in the form of porridge, but they never present it thus to the spirits except on the day of a person’s death, or by special request. This offering, though common, is not made ready without a great deal of trouble. The poor native woman seems to be occupied at milling flour from morning to night. The process is like this—First, she takes corn from the cob, puts it into a mortar with some water, and begins pounding to remove the husks (maseta). These are separated by sifting (kupeta). She next puts the husked grain (msokolo) again in the mortar, and does as before. By this time all the husks are off. After this the corn is steeped in water for some time, when it is called mlowe. This she puts into a mortar without water, and pounds again. When the third pounding is finished, she resorts to another process of sifting (kusenyenda) and obtains flour, which may be broken down to any degree of fineness by repeated pounding. Many harder portions (lusenga) need pounding again.

This native flour is given to the spirits (misimu) either quite dry or with a little water stirred into it.

22.—Native Beer.

The beer is made from maize or millet (D).

It is not like English beer. It is really a thin gruel, and serves for food as well as for drink. It is a very wholesome beverage for the natives, and it is well that they use it rather than other stimulants. The natives have a great desire for wine or brandy (they apply the Brazilian word Kachaso to everything of this kind). We may illustrate how far this craving exists by mentioning how often chiefs and headmen request Kachaso. Sometimes we have prepared a little tincture of ginger, and seen it greedily drunk. Mrs. MacDonald was one day clearing out old bottles, a few of which contained lime juice in the bottom, and it was sad to notice how the persons that received these bottles were entreated by others “to give them some of the brandy”. When a person was thus entreated, even after he had tasted the old rotten stuff, he said he had only a very little for himself, and hastened away as if determined to enjoy it alone! When we were on the Kwagwa River, a little above Quillimane, much merchandise was brought, and the first thing that was asked in payment was kachaso. The boatmen between Quillimane and the Missions were in danger of doing a great deal of harm in this way, as they brought up rum and such stuff, and traded on their own responsibility. Chiefs can procure kachaso readily enough, especially from the slave traders. One time at Blantyre there was hardly a drop of wine for a whole year, but the chief of Sochi had obtained some, and sent a messenger to us to ask for wine glasses! Another chief that we had opened up intercourse with, sent us a bottle of rum as a return present. Of course everyone gives things that have thus passed through the hands of the natives the cold shoulder, as it is not known what they are made of!

The temptation to drunkenness is one of the most terrible that the country can be exposed to. The natives go down before this temptation at once. A great deal of their drinking is an aping of the manners of Europeans as seen on the coast. We think that the civilisation of this race should be accomplished by total abstainers if possible. People who tamper with the natives by offering them brandy or by mixing wine and rum that they may make them drunk for their own amusement, are exceedingly thoughtless. In this country, unfortunately, any one can sell as much liquor as he likes without paying any license: and the effect of drinking brandy or such stimulants is sometimes very deplorable. One of the Magololo Chiefs or Headmen, as reported to me, seemed to go quite mad when he received a supply of brandy. He went about killing his people for the purpose of amusement, much in the manner of King Mtesa. On such occasions there used to be a great rush of people to the Mission, representing that their chief had drunk brandy, had killed very many of their friends, and wanted to kill them. They implored the protection of the Mission in the most earnest manner.

23.—The Effects Of Native Beer.

But the native beer does not produce such serious consequences, although many fights and wars arise out of it. One must drink a great deal before it intoxicates, and by the time a man has consumed half a barrel of gruel he will be more inclined to sleep than to quarrel. Should he simply talk nonsense, his more sober friends pay little attention to him. At a great beer-drinking the guests may lie down and sleep where they were drinking.

What do the natives think of the crime of drunkenness? When asked, “Do you say a man has a bad heart if he gets drunk on beer?” they reply “No; he may not have a bad heart”. But on further questioning they insist that such a man has certainly “a very bad head!”

24.—Beer As An Offering.

We have seen how the flour is used, both as an offering and as a sort of oracle according to the way in which it falls—according as it forms a cone or not. The beer may be used in the same way, both as offering and oracle. If when poured on the ground it sink into one spot as it would do in sandy soil, then the deity receives it, but if it spread over the ground there is a bad omen. Beer-drinkings may be held on the conclusion of favourable journeys and on many other occasions. Besides there may be beer drinking without any special reason, as when a man wants to treat his friends: but even in this case there is an offering.

As soon as the beer is ready the man goes to the village chief and carries some with him. The village chief presents this offering to the village god. There is no special prayer, except “I want that my beer may be sweet”. After the village chief comes back from the offering he drinks some of the beer himself, and declares the feast open. Among others the custom is simply for the brewer of beer himself to put down a little in his own house, with a prayer to the spirit that his beer may be sweet.

25.—Special Offerings.

All the offerings are supposed to point to some wants of the spirit. If a spirit were to come saying, “I want calico,” his friends would “just say that he was mad,” and would not give it. “Why should he want calico? What would he do with it? There was calico buried with him when he died, and he cannot need more again.” But if the request is at all reasonable (as when an old hunter asks animal food), it will be quickly attended to, and personal taste carefully consulted. In cases of this kind they may anticipate his wishes. When a deceased smoker wants tobacco his worshippers put it on a plate and set fire to it. If a spirit ask a house they will build him one.

It is a general rule that these special offerings are in answer to special requests, and such special requests are made known either by the oracle (chisango), or by dreams, or by the prophetess. The requests of a more serious character, involving the sacrifice of human beings, are made known chiefly through the prophetess (5, 3).

Near Lake Moere the people have idols that represent a departed father or mother. They present them with beer, flour, bhang, and light a fire for them to smoke by.—(Livingstone).

We shall now say a little about such special offerings and the way of presenting them.

26.—Offering Of A Fowl.

They generally kill the fowl by wringing its neck. Some speak of cutting its throat, and making the blood flow down. This is akin to an Arab method, but as the natives practice their offerings this custom is neither essential nor common. When the fowl is killed they simply lay it down at the prayer tree (4). If it be taken away during the night the spirit has accepted it. If it be known to have been carried away by a leopard, the leopard was commissioned by the spirit, or if the deceased was a hunter he may himsel