Chapter Nine.
A Kaffir Wedding—The Chief Metilulu Makes me a Present, which I Refuse.
The unusual exertions of the previous day had so much fatigued me, that I did not awaken till my hut was invaded by a Kaffir, bearing a portion of the game we had killed at the kloof, ready cooked, for my breakfast. This was an additional proof of the chief’s hospitality and friendliness towards me; and I knew from it that, if I chose to conduct myself honourably towards them, they would do their best in their way to make me comfortable. Before I quitted the kraal, however, I was destined to learn what a little may change a Kaffir’s feelings; but at the time of which I now write I was quite ignorant of the power of witch-doctors, droughts, rain-makers, etc, so felt most easy in my mind respecting my position.
Having rolled up my bed, or mat, as I had seen the “boys” do, I took my breakfast near to the door; for though no native had slept there, yet the atmosphere was most close and oppressive.
It was a beautiful morning, and, as I regaled myself upon the portion of koodoo allotted to my share, I could not help recalling my own dear, simple, quiet, little nook of a home in Devonshire, and comparing it to the strange, wild African scenery and people about me. My appearance had now grown too familiar to the Kaffirs to be much remarked, so as I sat they continued their occupations without heeding me.
The time seemed to be that of milking, for several cows stood within a short distance, going through that operation. Most took it kindly enough; but one or two, like our own brindles, which kick over Sukey’s pail, were extremely restive, and no doubt would have given much trouble but for the method their masters had of quieting them. A stick placed through the animals’ nostrils was held at each end by a man, who, on the slightest show of temper on the creatures’ part, turned it sharply, thus occasioning considerable pain, to avoid which the cow wisely lets herself be milked in peace. The milker sits on his haunches, his knees up to his chin, and the roughly-constructed narrow jar pressed between them.
To an European taste the pure warm fluid would have been thought a refreshing morning draught; but the Kaffir never takes it fresh, regarding it as indigestible. The new milk is poured into large jars where, perhaps, some sour milk still remains; there it is left to ferment, when the thick part separates from the whey, and is highly prized by the natives under the name of amasi, a species of clotted cream.
My meal being finished, I amused myself by watching a party of women, all similarly attired—that is, with the short skirt, reaching from the waist barely to the knee, and most with a child slung on their back, proceeding with various implements of husbandry to the fields; for all this kind of labour is performed by the females, who yet have to be home in time to attend to their lord and master’s meals; and woe betide them if they are not ready, though, perhaps, the men have spent all the day in idleness, smoking, or sleeping. No wonder the feminine portion of these people grow absolutely haggish and hideous when but a few years over twenty.
I was surmising how my day would be passed, when I was rejoiced to see Tugela approaching. Getting up, I went to meet him, and soon asked what he could propose for me to do; for he and I had grown to be excellent friends.
He informed me that one of the head men was about to take a wife that day, and, did I please, I might witness the ceremony. As I look with much reverence upon that holy rite, I had a great curiosity to see how it was conducted here; though from the specimen I had seen of the married women, and the arduous life theirs was, I wondered to myself how any Kaffir gentleman could find a lady to have him; but a girl in Caffraria regards it as the greatest indignity conceivable to remain single.
It appeared, however, in the present case, that the bridegroom who was to be, had really had some difficulty to obtain the lady’s consent, having been on view for approval, with doubtful success.
This “view for approval” would rather astonish the young men of my land, and is vastly different to their pleasant little manoeuvrings to get a tête-à-tête with the dear one, so as to whisper in her ear their love, and, perhaps, listen to her charming avowal, given with a rosy blush and downcast eyes.
Here in Kaffirland, the bridegroom that would be arrays himself in his best, with leopard-tail isinene and umucha, or front and back aprons, necklaces on his neck, bracelets on his arms, a multiplicity of feathers in his head-ring, and then armed with his shield and assagais, his heart palpitating, according to his confidence, respecting the success of his visit, he repairs to his beloved one’s home, and, sitting down among her friends, explains his wishes, and enumerates how many cows and skins he is willing to give for the lady of his choice. Should his offer suit the parents, the girl is sent for, who, coming no farther than the door, stares silently at her suitor.
With the Kaffir about to be married, it seemed that, “when on view,” the lady, through a third party, as they do not address each other, had been most arbitrary in her demands. First he had to stand up in that way, then in this, after which he had to run and leap, to prove his merits; whereupon the lady left as silently as she had come. Shortly after, however, the parents brought the news to the delighted swain that he might send home the cows, as the girl had consented. It was this marriage which was to take place that day.
What Tugela had recounted informed me of one thing of which I was not previously aware, and certainly should not have imagined, from the servile way women were treated—that is, that in Kaffirland, save on rare occasions, the girls can select or reject a suitor as they please.
On walking about the kraal, I soon found that an affair of more than ordinary importance was going to take place, for all was bustle,—accounted for, perhaps, by the fact that at marriage feasts, when, as in the present instance, the parties are rich, much beer is drunk and beef is eaten.
Telling Tugela that, if it were possible, I should like to see the whole of the ceremony, he conducted me to a rising ground, where, hidden by some cacti bushes, he informed me that I could easily watch the approach of the bride; and I had not long ensconced myself behind the shrubs—seeking out as shady a spot as I could, for the sun burnt frightfully through my tattered seaman’s dress—when the murmur of voices informed me of the lady’s approach. Soon she appeared, led by two female friends, and followed by her family and companions, all in the gayest attire,—their woolly heads being decked with beads and porcupine spines, or white thorns; while those who were rich enough had arms and ankles covered with ornaments. The bride had evidently put on every available ornament that she could obtain; and if the Kaffir girl is no beauty, assuredly, when she is attired in the bridal costume which denotes her position as a wife, she is, I may say, hideous. Her hair had been all shaved off save one tuft at the top, which had been stuck together, in an erect position, by some red clay or paint, while for the apron of the virgin had been substituted the skirt of the matron. She was guarded by all her male relations, also dressed in their best, and armed with shields and assagais.
Waiting till the procession had passed, I followed at a short distance till near the husband’s kraal, when the bride sat down on the outside, while the giving over the cows, which constituted the marriage ceremony, took place. First an ox, termed ukutu, was given to the bride’s mother, which was intended to be cooked for the wedding feast. After this the male relatives proceeded with a slow, peculiar step, brandishing their weapons and uttering a monotonous, droning chant, up to the husband’s hut, he being as yet inside, and demanded of him the “father’s ox,” called umquoliswa. Upon, as a matter of form, his declaring that he had none to give, the father stated his intention of taking the bride home; to which the other made no reply till called upon to appear, when he did so with a rush, as if desiring to escape from the kraal, but the egress from which was instantly barred by the girls without, who, with much laughter and many jests, kept him in. Whereupon he ordered the umquoliswa to be brought, and, after it had been formally delivered over to the father, the bride entered the kraal, and the dances commenced.
I have already mentioned these dances as being most wild and grotesque. First the husband and his friends began, while the others remained seated; then vice versa—each casting their weapons and shields about in the most reckless fashion, yet keeping time to the songs they sang, during which beer was drunk ad libitum by the lookers on.
These dances were interspersed by harangues from the elder women and the father of the bride, giving advice to the girl about to enter upon the new life, and to the husband to treat her well and be kind; then followed more dancing, when the last ceremony was performed.
The bridegroom having seated himself on the ground, the bride, accompanied by two companions, danced up to him, and began most unceremoniously to kick the dust into his face, load him with abuse, and disarrange his head-gear,—all of which, perhaps feeling how soon it would be his turn to act the master in reality, he received with the greatest good humour.
Another ox was now brought forward, and presented by the bridegroom to the girl. This was solemnly slaughtered; and this last ceremony, Tugela told me, rendered the marriage complete, as, up to that time, either party could have cried off had they felt disposed. All the rites, therefore, being over, the feasting commenced, on the conclusion of which I learned the husband was permitted to take his wife home.
Having no desire to be more than a spectator, and being much oppressed by the heat, I managed to return alone to my hut; for I saw Tugela, who had come to me, was anxious to join the wedding party. When there, I threw myself down on my mat, and soon fell fast asleep, and dreamed of home and the dear ones it contained.
I was just fancying I was once more among them, with my children about my knees, and darling. Katie sitting by my side, her loving face either smiling into mine, or looking up with pretty terror, as I recounted my adventures and perils, when I awoke. The sun was sinking, and I had been aroused by a shadow falling over the entrance to the hut. Starting up, I found it was Tugela, who had come with a message from the chief; and a most surprising one it was, as my readers may imagine.
Metilulu had sent his compliments to the Englishman, and desired to say that, as I now had a hut of my own, I must require some one to cook my meals and attend to my wants; therefore he was condescending enough to wish that I should take a wife.
I regarded Tugela in horror; then concealing the feeling, which it might be dangerous to display, I, as politely and respectfully as I could, declined the offer, saying I was extremely conscious of, and grateful for, the kind intentions of the great chief respecting my comfort, but that I could cook meals and attend to my wants myself; for, being already married in my own country, it was against the custom of white men, as Tugela must know, to marry again.
“Ah,” he responded, “but the English wife is far away; she no good—she no cook—she no work for you.”
“Yes she does; she cooks and works for my children, awaiting my return,” I answered, with a slight tremor in my voice.
This reasoning seemed perfectly incomprehensible to Tugela; and I thought, with some trepidation, that if it were so with him, who had lived in white settlements, how might the chief Metilulu take my rejection of his offer.
“Tugela,” I said, “you are aware that it is our custom, our religion, to marry but one wife; therefore, I pray you, tell your chief how sincerely I feel his kindness, but how impossible it is for me to obey.”
He promised to do so, but added, as if he thought, perhaps, the information might make me change my mind, “The Great Eagle knows that you are poor—that you have no cows to give—so says he will purchase you a wife himself.”
This additional generosity quite overpowered me. Metilulu must be bent upon the fulfilment of his desire indeed; nevertheless I could only reiterate my thanks and refusal.
So, finding me in this humour, Tugela left to bear my answer to the chief, while I, extremely anxious as to the consequences, awaited the result.
A Kaffir wife! Oh, horror! Even if I had been a bachelor, and no dear Katie was in the way, the thought would have been quite as revolting in my idea. I felt that the comforts I thought I might expect during my compulsory stay in Caffraria were growing beautifully less; indeed, that at any moment, through such unforeseen causes as the present, the chief’s anger might be drawn upon me, to my ruin. So I inwardly resolved, did any danger threaten, to try to escape, though I had again to take to the bush.
I did not then know half my trouble, and was ignorant that my unfortunate self had, unknowingly, inspired with the soft passion the heart of a young Kaffir girl.