Chapter Eleven.
The Fate of the Wizard—Skin Dressing—The New Wife.
Leaving the witch-doctor to pursue his way and find the charm, I will return to the poor, wretched victim.
The “boys,” armed with the knob-kerries, had seized him, trembling but silent, in their grasp; while a decided expression of relief broke over the features of the rest. They, at any rate, were safe. Yet the accused must have been a friend of many there; but, strange to say, none spoke in his favour: on the contrary, all appeared even fearful to come in contact with him, and drew off to a little distance.
The so-called wizard was now interrogated, and commanded to produce the charm with which, by the aid of spells, he had brought the present illness upon Anzutu. In vain the poor fellow declared his innocence, protesting his loyalty to his chief and all belonging to him. It made little difference. The question was reiterated, till he exclaimed, “I have no charm—it is no use asking—I must die.”
It was at this moment that the witch-doctor returned, performing many eccentric bounds of triumph, and holding in his hand a little tuft of fur and a string of beads, which the chief Metilulu instantly declared to have belonged to his wife. This, as may be conceived, sealed the fate of the poor fellow whom they had so soon created into a wizard. He was immediately seized by his tormentors, who, flinging him upon the ground, began piercing the quivering body in every part with Kaffir needles. I put Kaffir; for when I say that they more resemble a skewer than the pretty little articles which look so well in our countrywomen’s fingers, the awful pain they inflict may be imagined.
I grew sick in watching these brutes, and, but for very fear, could have shrieked in compassion; though scarcely a groan escaped the victim. An European, I am sure, must have fainted over and over again under the torture; but the Kaffir never once lost consciousness; and in this case, as in many others I witnessed, I was perfectly assured that, whether from their hardy mode of life and healthy constitution, or from whatever other cause, these savage people are not so sensitive to pain as are the inhabitants of civilised countries.
While some five or six had been probing the miserable man’s body till their hands were tired, others had been kindling a fire, where they were heating several large stones. When these were thoroughly heated, the wizard was borne near, fastened firmly down, and—I shiver as I recall it—the red-hot stones were placed upon the quivering flesh, which cracked and shrivelled under the weight and heat.
Sick and dizzy with horror, I could bear it no longer, but fled—fled till I could get free of the smell and the murmurs of his tormentors—as to the victim, he bore all stoically,—then flung myself on to the ground, nearly fainting with disgust. I grew worse still when I remembered that, should I offend these people, the fate of this man might be mine.
My first instinct was to take at once to the bush, and quit the incarnate fiends; but after reflection told me the absurdity of such an act. First, it was broad day, and my figure might easily be distinguished; secondly, the Kaffirs were scattered everywhere about the kraal, so that at any time I might encounter one, whose suspicions would speedily be aroused by seeing me so far from the huts; while, lastly, I was utterly destitute of provisions or weapons.
Therefore, after a time, I saw the wisest course was for me to return, and to conform to their customs if necessary—save that of taking unto myself a wife,—and, by keeping my eyes open, seize the first opportunity to escape. So, making a considerable détour, to avoid the spot where the wretched wizard had suffered, and where, to my renewed horror, I perceived by the movements of the men in the distance the torture was still going on—indeed it was some hours before nature finally succumbed, and the man got rest at last in death—I proceeded towards the kraal, but changed my intention on coming across a group of Kaffirs engaged on some work. As I was now looked upon in the most neighbourly manner by them, and also myself desiring to appear friendly, I drew near, and, by signs, entered into conversation.
There were three of them squatting upon the ground, with an eland’s skin between them, which they were scraping with all their might. Having sat down, and with much gravity, suitable to the solemnity of the occasion, accepted snuff from one of the workers, I made them understand that I should like to know what they were doing.
By signs I managed to make out that they were tanning the skin, and watched the process with much interest. They continued to scrape and scrape the inside till it was perfectly free from grease, all the while—if not replying to my dumb-show interrogations, or speaking to me in the same manner—accompanying the operation with songs, snuff-taking, and smoking.
By Tugela’s kindness, I had been presented with a pipe—a most precious gift, it must be known, in Caffraria, where the natives look upon smoking as the ne plus ultra of life’s luxuries. A company of them, when tobacco’s scarce, will even smoke in the following original manner:—One will draw in from the pipe as much as his mouth will possibly hold, then pass it on to the next, and so on till all the company have been served; then they retain the fumes so long that all the vessels of the head grow surcharged with it, when the smoker drops intoxicated on to the ground—an insensibility from which he is recovered by the kindness of his friends, who, by buffets, pinches, and hair-pullings, will restore him at last to consciousness. However, on the present occasion each was fortunate enough to possess his own. Mine was a long reed, with a clumsy bowl, about four times the size of a large European pipe; for the Kaffir cannot get too much. This capacious hollow was filled with rough, coarse tobacco, which few Englishmen would smoke could they get better; but when better cannot be procured, I have no doubt they would do as I did—take what they could get.
So we sat smoking, and they, snuffing and singing, till every morsel of the hide having been well manipulated, they commenced the next process. Fastening several of their needles together—the sight of them made me again grow faint,—they began twirling the bundle between their hands, so that the sharp points tore the skin till it was roughed in every part; then taking a powder, made from the rotten root of the acacia tree, they rubbed it into the hide with all their might; and this, which answered the same purpose as our tan-pit, they continued to do till the skin was ready for use.
From these, and numerous other skins, the Kaffir kaross, or cloak, is made. That article, fastened round the neck, falls down the back, and, save in winter, is more for show than use. Many skins have to be used in their construction, especially when the hide is that of a small animal, such as the meerkat; and, in that case, it is most wonderful to see the neatness with which they are sewn together. It is truly surprising, when it is considered that their only implements are the needles previously mentioned, a stiff fibre for thread, and a stone to rub smooth the seams. Yet, despite these disadvantages, when completed, the kaross might be taken for a whole and perfect skin, did not the arrangement of the shades prove otherwise.
Having watched all this done, and by that means succeeded in whiling away the time, I bade farewell to the skin-dressers, and, no little dejected in spirits, returned to the kraal and to my own hut, where, finding some dried koodoo flesh and a little amasi left in the gourd which had been brought me, I stayed my hunger, then sat down on my mat, feeling sure that Tugela would, after the terrible ceremony of the day was over, pay me a visit.
I was not wrong; he soon made his appearance, his face bright and smiling—an expression I had noted on several Kaffir features as they passed my hut. This gave me much confidence; for I felt we had become such good friends that he would not smile did evil threaten me; so, with a sensation of relief, I bade him welcome, and asked the news. He replied upon a subject very different to that I was thinking about.
“The great chief Metilulu,” he said, “has ordered the elephant hunt to take place to-morrow, and I came to tell you.”
“To-morrow!” I exclaimed; “I thought Metilulu intended to be present himself.”
“He will be so.”
“But the illness of his wife.”
“Why should a woman keep the great chief from his pleasure?” responded Tugela, in a tone of contempt at the idea; “but Anzutu is better.”
“Better! I am delighted.”
“No sooner had the wizard suffered,” said Tugela innocently, “than Anzutu grew better. Had the charm not been found, she would have died.”
He spoke this so seriously that I dared not express my doubt upon the point; yet I could not refrain from saying—
“But supposing, Tugela, the witch-doctor had selected another as the wizard.”
“He would not, because the one he discovered was the right man.”
“Possibly; yet each Kaffir, I fancied, looked as if he feared the selection might fall upon himself.”
“Because they are all aware of the power of the witch-doctor. He knows more than we do,” said Tugela, with evidently a firm belief in his words. “The one he selected was the right one,” he added, “for, see, has not Anzutu recovered?”
I saw no arguments of mine would shake Tugela’s faith in the terrible superstition which gave such an awful power to the ignorant men who possessed it, so dropped the subject, and began to ask him respecting the hunt of the next morning. He told me that the footprint of a majestic elephant had been discovered some days back, and the Kaffirs were all eager to track it.
“Some days back,” I said; “will they be able to discover it again?”
“Certainly. We Kaffirs have a way so as never to forget the track of an elephant.”
He had begun to induct me into the method, when he was suddenly interrupted by a great hubbub without. He instantly started to the door, and I followed.
The bridegroom of the previous day stood outside, surrounded by a number of Kaffirs, to whom he was angrily gesticulating. Not being able to understand his harangue, I had to wait till I got it second-hand from Tugela, who told me that the bridegroom’s wives had that afternoon gone out gathering wood in the bush; but when the husband had returned, he had found all his wives at home save the youngest, whom he had paid so many cows for the previous day; while his questions respecting her whereabouts had elicited no satisfactory answers, though he had had liberal recourse to stick.
Though these people practice polygamy, giving for a cause, if asked, the necessity for keeping their huts right, getting their dinners cooked, and grounds tilled; and though, also, they treat their women not very much better than the Australian natives who regarded the softer sex but little above their dogs, yet they are extremely jealous respecting their wives’ fidelity. The chief has a regular harem, which, like in Turkey, has a special guard to watch who goes out or in. Should a wife be found unfaithful, the punishment is severe, sometimes death even.
I believe that, in the present case, the husband fancied his new wife had fled to another kraal, for he was extremely irate; but he first decided to go to the bush where the women had been, so he started off with several others, Tugela and myself among the number, and led by the boy—I mean a boy now, who had gone out with the women—not to help, be it understood, for even at an early age the male sex asserts its superiority.
Forward we went into the bush, lit up by the red glow of the setting sun, but not a sign could we discover of the lost wife. For over an hour we searched and called in vain, and the husband ordered a return, stating his resolve to visit the neighbouring kraals next morning, and demand to have his wife restored, as he felt certain she had fled to one of them. It was at this moment that a peculiar cry from one of the Kaffir’s brought all the rest to the spot.
There, on the grass, apparently dead, murdered, laid the body of the young wife. The horror I experienced at the sight was not seemingly felt by my companions, rage being the only feeling they exhibited, as, taking up the inanimate body, in which we yet detected signs of life, we bore it back to the kraal. A large wound was on the skull, while there were others about the body, such as, with an European, might in all probability have caused death, but to my surprise Tugela said that he had no doubt the woman would soon get over it.
“But who could have tried to murder her?” I asked.
“The other wives,” he replied coolly.
“The other wives! In Heaven’s name, why?”
“From jealousy. Old wives do not like young ones.”
“And what will they get for doing it?”
“Stick, a great deal of stick.”
Tugela was right; the wives did get stick considerably; while, a few days after, I saw the young wife working in the kraal as if nothing had happened. The tenacity of life in these people, I confessed, was great indeed.