CHAPTER IV.
DRESS AND ORNAMENTS — DRESS OF THE MEN — DRESS DEPENDENT ON COUNTRY FOR MATERIAL — SKIN THE CHIEF ARTICLE OF DRESS IN SOUTHERN AFRICA — FUR-PRODUCING ANIMALS — A KAROSS OR CLOAK OF MEERKAT SKIN — ANOTHER OF JACKAL SKINS — NATIVE TASTE IN DRESS — PROFESSIONAL KAROSS MAKERS — NEEDLE USED BY THE KAFFIRS — ITS CLUMSY SHAPE AND DIMENSIONS — ITS LEATHER SHEATH — A FASHIONABLE NEEDLE AND ITS BELT OF BEADS — TASTEFUL ARRANGEMENT OF COLOR — THREAD USED BY KAFFIRS — SINGULAR MATERIAL AND MODE OF PREPARING IT — HOW A KAFFIR SEWS — A MAN’S ORDINARY DRESS — THE APRON OR “TAILS” — SPECIMEN IN MY COLLECTION — BRASS BUTTONS — THE “ISINENE” AND “UMUCHA” — PORTRAIT OF GOZA — OBESITY OF THE CHIEFS — FULL DRESS AND UNDRESS — A KAFFIR AIDE-DE-CAMP.
Having now described the general appearance of the Kaffirs from childhood to age, we will proceed to the costume which they wear, and the ornaments with which they decorate their dark persons. The material of which dress is made depends much on the characteristics of the country. In some parts of the world linen is used, in another silk, and in another cotton. In Southern Africa, however, and indeed throughout a very large portion of the continent, the dress, whether of men or women, is composed of the skins and furs of animals. The country abounds in game, especially of the antelope tribe; and the antelopes, the zebras and their kin, the beasts of prey, the monkey tribes and the oxen, afford a vast store from which the Kaffir can take his clothing, and vary it almost without bounds.
The Kaffir is an admirable dresser of furs. He bestows very great pains on the process, and arrives at a result which cannot be surpassed by the best of European furriers, with all his means and appliances. Kaffir furs, even those made from the stiff and stubborn hide of the ox, are as soft and pliable as silk; and if they be wetted, they will dry without becoming harsh and stiff. For large and thick skins a peculiar process is required. The skin of the cow, for example, will become as hard as a board when dry, and even that of the lion is apt to be very stiff indeed when dried. The process of preparing such skins is almost absurdly simple and expeditious, while its efficacy is such that our best fur-dressers cannot produce such articles as the Kaffirs do.
Supposing that a cow-skin is to be made into a robe, the Kaffir will ask two or three of his comrades to help him. They all sit round the skin, and scrape it very carefully, until they have removed every particle of fat, and have also reduced the thickness. They then stretch it in every direction, pulling against each other with all their might, working it over their knees, and taking care that not an inch of it shall escape without thorough manipulation. Of course they talk, and sing, and smoke, and take snuff while performing the task, which is to them a labor of love. If, indeed, it were not, they would not perform it, but hand it over to their wives. When they have kneaded it as much as they think necessary, they proceed to another operation. They take eight or ten of their skewer-like needles, and tie them together in a bundle, each man being furnished with one of these bundles. The points are then placed perpendicularly upon the skin, and the bundle made to revolve backward and forward between the hands. This process tears up the fibres of the skin, and adds to its pliancy, besides raising a sort of nap, which in some of their dresses is so thick and fine as to resemble plush.
Sometimes, when needles are scarce, the long straight thorns of the acacia are tied together, and used in a similar manner. Although not so strong, their natural points are quite as sharp as the artificial points made of iron, and do their work as effectually. Some of my readers may remember that the nap on cloth is raised by a method exactly similar in principle, the thorny seed-vessels of the teasle thistle being fastened on cylinders and made to revolve quickly over the surface of the cloth, so as to raise a “nap” which conceals the course of the threads. These acacia thorns are used for a wonderful variety of purposes, and are even pressed into the service of personal vanity, being used as decorations for the hair on festive occasions.
The skin is now ready for the ingredient that forms a succedaneum for the tanpit, and that does its work in a very short time. As the reader is perhaps aware, the acacia is one of the commonest trees in Southern Africa. The sap of the tree is of a very astringent character, and communicates its properties to the bark through which it percolates. In consequence, the white inhabitants of Southern Africa are in the habit of using the bark of the acacia just as in England we use the bark of the oak, and find that it produces a similar effect upon skins that are soaked in a strong solution of acacia bark in water. The native, however, does not use the bark for this purpose, neither does he practise the long and tedious process of tanning which is in use among ourselves. The acacia tree supplies for him a material which answers all the purposes of a tanpit, and does not require above a fraction of the time that is employed in ordinary tanning.
The acacia trees are constantly felled for all sorts of purposes. The hard wood is used in native architecture, in making the fence round a kraal, in making wagon poles, and in many similar modes. The root and stump are left to rot in the ground, and, thanks to the peculiar climate and the attacks of insects, they soon rot away, and can be crumbled with the fingers into a reddish yellow powder. This powder is highly astringent, and is used by the Kaffirs for dressing their furs, and is applied by assiduous rubbing in with the hand. Afterward, a little grease is added, but not much, and this is also rubbed in very carefully with the hand.
A large kaross is always worn with the furry side inward, and there is a mode of putting it on which is considered highly fashionable. If the robe is composed of several skins,—say, for example, those of the jackal or leopard,—the heads are placed in a row along the upper margin. When the Kaffir indues his kaross, he folds this edge over so as to form a kind of cape, and puts it on in such a way that the fur-clad heads fall in a row over his shoulders.
The rapidity with which a Kaffir will prepare a small skin is really surprising. One of my friends was travelling in Southern Africa, and saw a jackal cantering along, looking out for food. Presently, he came across the scent of some steaks that were being cooked, and came straight toward the wagon, thinking only of food, and heedless of danger. One of the Kaffirs in attendance on the wagon saw the animal, picked up a large stone, and awaited his coming. As he was nearing the fire, the Kaffir flung the stone with such a good aim that the animal was knocked over and stunned. The wagon started in an hour and a half from that time, and the Kaffir who killed the jackal was seen wearing the animal’s dressed skin. The skin of this creature is very much prized for robes and similar purposes, as it is thick and soft, and the rich black mottlings along the back give to the robe a very handsome appearance.
I have before me a beautiful example of a kaross or cloak, made from the skins of the meerkat, one of the South African ichneumons. It is a pretty creature, the coat being soft and full, and the general color a reddish tawny, variegated in some specimens by dark mottlings along the back, and fading off into gray along the flanks. The kaross consists of thirty-six skins, which are sewed together as neatly as any furrier could sew them. The meerkat, being very tenacious of life, does not succumb easily, and accordingly there is scarcely a skin which has not been pierced in one or more places by the spear, in some instances leaving holes through which a man’s finger could easily be passed. In one skin there are five holes, two of them of considerable size. Yet, when the kaross is viewed upon the hairy side, not a sign of a hole is visible. With singular skill, the Kaffir fur-dresser has “let in” circular pieces of skin cut from another animal, and done it so well that no one would suspect that there had been any injury to the skin. The care taken in choosing the color is very remarkable, because the fur of the meerkat is extremely variable in color, and it must have been necessary to compare a considerable number of skins, in order to find one that was of exactly the right shade.
The mantle in question is wonderfully light, so light, indeed, that no one would think it capable of imparting much warmth until he has tried it. I always use it in journeys in cold weather, finding that it can be packed in much less space than an ordinary railway rug, that it is lighter to carry, and is warmer and more comfortable.
Although every Kaffir has some knowledge of skin-dressing and tailoring, there are some who greatly surpass their companions, and are popularly known as “kaross makers.” It is easy to tell at a glance whether a garment is the work of an ordinary Kaffir, or of a regular kaross maker. The kaross which has been noticed affords a good example of both styles, which can be distinguished as easily by the touch as by the sight.
When a kaross maker sets to work, he takes the two pieces of the fur which he has to join, and places them together with the hairy side inward, and the edges exactly matching each other. He then repeatedly passes his long needle between the two pieces, so as to press the hair downward, and prevent it from being caught in the thread. He then bores a few holes in a line with each other, and passes the sinew fibre through them, casting a single hitch over each hole, but leaving the thread loose. When he has made two or three such holes, and passed the thread through them, he draws them tight in regular succession, so that he produces a sort of lock-stitch, and his work will not become loose, even though it may be cut repeatedly. Finally, he rubs down the seam, and, when properly done, the two edges lie as flat as if they were one single piece of skin.
In the kaross before mentioned, the original maker was not one of the professed tailors, but thought that he could do all the plain sewing himself. Accordingly, the seams which connect the various skills are rather rudely done, being merely sewed over and over, and are in consequence raised above the level of the skins. But the various patches that were required in order to complete the garment in its integrity needed much more careful work, and this portion of the work has been therefore intrusted to one of the professed kaross makers. The difference of the seams is at once apparent, those made by the unskilled workman being raised, harsh, and stiff; while those made by the professional are quite flat, and look exactly like the well-known lock-stitch of our sewing machines.
A singularly handsome specimen of a kaross is now before me. It is made of the skins of the gray jackal, and, although not so attractive to European eyes as if it had been made from the skin of the black-backed jackal, is, in a Kaffir’s estimation, a far more valuable article, inasmuch as the gray species is much rarer than the black-backed.
The man who designed this kaross may fairly be entitled to the name of artist. It is five feet three inches in depth, and very nearly six feet in width, and therefore a considerable number of skins have been used in making it. But the skins have not merely been squared and then sewed together, the manufacturer having in his mind a very bold design. Most persons are aware, that in the majority of animals, the jackal included, the skin is darkest along the back, a very dark stripe runs along the spine, and that the fur fades into whitish gray upon the flanks and under the belly. The kaross maker has started with the idea of forming the cloak on the same principle, and making it look as if it were composed of one large skin. Accordingly, he has selected the darkest skins for the centre of the kaross, and arranged them so that they fade away into gray at the edges. This is done, not by merely putting the darker skins in the middle, and the lighter toward the edges, but by cutting the skins into oblong pieces of nearly the same size, and sewing them together so neatly that the lines of junction are quite invisible. All the heads are set in a row along the upper edges, and, being worked very flat, can be turned over, and form a kind of cape, as has already been mentioned. The lower edge of the kaross has a very handsome appearance, the gray color of the fur rapidly deepening into black, which makes a broad stripe some four inches in depth. This is obtained by taking the skin of the paws, which are very black, and sewing them to the cape of the mantle.
Of course, a Kaffir has no knowledge of gloves, but there are seasons when he really wants some covering for his hands. A creature of the sun, he cannot endure cold; and in weather when the white men are walking in their lightest clothing and exulting in the unaccustomed coolness, the Kaffir is wrapped in his thickest kaross, cowering over the fire, and absolutely paralyzed, both bodily and mentally, with the cold. He therefore makes certain additions to his kaross, and so forms a kind of shelter for the hands. About two feet from the top of the kaross, and on the outer edges, are a pair of small wings or projections, about a foot in length, and eight inches in width. When the Kaffir puts on the kaross, he doubles the upper part to form the cape, turns the furry side within, grasps one of these winglets with each hand, and then wraps it round his shoulders. The hands are thus protected from the cold, and the upper part of the body is completely covered. The kaross descends as far as the knees in front, and is about a foot longer at the sides and at the back. The whole edge of the kaross is bound on the inside with a narrow band of thin, but very strong membrane, and is thus rendered less liable to be torn. The membrane is obtained as follows. A skin of some animal, usually one of the antelopes, is rolled up and buried in the ground until a certain amount of putrefaction takes place. It is then removed, and the Kaffir splits it by introducing his knife, and then, with a quick jerk, strips off the membranous skin. If it does not separate easily, the skin is replaced in the ground, and left for a day or two longer.
This fine specimen was brought from Southern Africa by Mr. Christie, who has had it in constant use as a railway rug and for similar purposes for some fourteen years, and it is still as serviceable as ever. I ought to mention that both this and my own kaross were made by Bechuanas, and not by Zulus, the latter tribe always using for their kaross a single hide of an ox dressed soft. The peculiar mode of manipulating a hide when dressing it is called “braying,” perhaps because it bears some resemblance to the “braying” or rubbing of a substance in a mortar, as distinguished from pounding it. A handful of the hide is taken in each hand and gathered up, so as to form two or three wrinkles on the fleshy side. The wrinkles are then rubbed on each other, with a peculiar twisting movement, which is almost identical with that of the gizzard in grain-eating birds.
Of similar skins the Kaffir makes a kind of bag in which he puts his pipe, tobacco, and various other little comforts. This bag, which is popularly called a knapsack, deserves more rightly the name of haversack, as it is not carried on the back, but slung to the side. It is made of the skin of some small animal, such as a hare or a hyrax, and is formed in a very simple manner. When the Kaffir has killed the animal, he strips off the skin by making a cut, not along the belly, as is the usual fashion, but from one hind leg to the other. By dint of pushing and pulling, he contrives to strip off the skin, and of course turns it inside out in so doing, much as is the case when a taxidermist skins a snake or frog. The skin is then “brayed” in the ordinary fashion, while the furry side is inward; and when this operation is completed, the mouth, ears and eyelids are sewed up, and it is then reversed so as to bring the fur outward. Straps are attached to the two hind legs, so that the wearer can sling the bag over his shoulder. The natives put these bags to all kinds of uses, some of them being rather odd according to our ideas. It has been mentioned that the pipe, tobacco, and other little articles which a Kaffir has, are kept in the bag. If, perchance, the wearer should discover a bees’ nest, he empties his “knapsack,” turns it inside out, shakes it well in order to get rid of the scraps of tobacco and other debris of a Kaffir’s pouch, and then proceeds to attack the bees. When he has succeeded in reaching the honeycombs, he removes them from the nest, puts them into the bag, and goes off with his prize, regardless of the state in which the interior of the bag will be left.
The skill of the Kaffir in sewing fur is the more notable when we take into consideration the peculiar needle and thread which he uses. The needle is not in the least like the delicate, slender articles employed by European seamstresses. In the first place, it has no eye; and in the second, it is more like a skewer than a needle. If any of my classical readers will recall to their minds the “stylus” which the ancients used instead of a pen, he will have a very good idea of a Kaffir’s needle.
As the Kaffir likes to carry his needle about with him, he makes a sheath or case of leather. There is great variety in these cases. The simplest are merely made of strips of hide rolled round the needle, and sewed together at the edges.
The most ornamental needle that I have seen was brought to England by the late H. Jackson, Esq., who kindly placed it and the rest of his valuable collection at my disposal. This needle is represented at [fig. 1], in the illustration “Kaffir needles,” page 33. It is of the ordinary shape, though much larger than most that are used; but it is upon the sheath and its ornaments that the proud owner has lavished his powers. The sheath is made of leather, but is modelled into a curious pattern, which may be easily imitated. Roll up a tube of paper, about the third of an inch in diameter. At an inch from the end, pinch it tightly between the right thumb and finger, until it is squeezed flat. Still retaining the grasp, pinch it with the left hand just below the finger and thumb of the right, and at right angles to them. Proceed in this manner until the whole of it has been pinched. Then, if we suppose that the tube is made of raw hide thoroughly wetted, that a well oiled needle is placed in it, and that the leather is worked carefully upon the needle so as to make a sheath, ornamented with flattened projections at right angles to each other, we shall see how the sheath is made.
The siring of beads by which it is hung around the neck is put together with great taste. The pale-tinted beads are white with rings of scarlet, and the others are blue with large spots of white, the whole forming a very artistic contrast with the skin of the wearer. The best point of this needle case is, however, the ornament which hangs to it just by the head of the needle. This is a piece of rhinoceros horn, cut into the shape of a buffalo head and part of the neck—very much, indeed, as if it had been intended for the handle of a seal. The skill with which the artist—for he really deserves the name—has manipulated this stubborn substance is really admirable. The sweep of the animal’s horns is hit off with a boldness of line and a freedom of execution that would scarcely be expected from a savage. That he should make an accurate representation of the animal was likely enough, considering his familiarity with the subject, but that he should be able to carve with his assagai-blade so artistic a design could hardly have been expected from him.
By the side of this needle hangs [another], which I have introduced because the sheath, instead of being made of leather, is a wooden tube, closed at one end, and guarded at both ends by a thong of raw hide rolled round it.
As the Kaffirs employ needles of this description, it is evident that they cannot use the same kind of thread as ourselves, since a cotton thread would not make its way through the leather, and therefore the Kaffir has recourse to the animal kingdom for his thread as well as for his garments. The thread is made of the sinews of various animals, the best being made of the sinews taken from the neck of a giraffe. One of these bundles of thread is now before me, and a curious article it is—stiff, angular, elastic, and with an invincible tendency to become entangled among the other objects of the collection. Few persons to whom it is shown for the first time will believe that it is thread, and mostly fancy that I am trying to take advantage of their ignorance.
When this strange thread is wanted for use, it is steeped in hot water until it is quite soft, and is then beaten between two smooth stones. This process causes it to separate into filaments, which can be obtained of almost any degree of strength or fineness. The sinew thus furnishes a thread of astonishing strength when compared with its diameter, surpassing even the silk grass of Guiana in that respect.
When a Kaffir wishes to sew, he prepares some of this thread, squats on the ground, takes his needle, and bores two little holes in the edges of the garment on which he is working. He then pushes the thread through the holes thus made, and makes two more holes opposite each other. He continues to draw the stitches tight as he proceeds, and thus gets on with his work at a rate which would certainly not pay a seamstress in this country, but which is very well suited to Africa, where time is not of the least value. As he works with wet sinew upon wet hide, it naturally follows that, in the process of drying, the seams become enormously strengthened, the stitches being drawn tightly by the contraction of sinew, and the contraction of the hide forcing the stitches deeply into its own substance, and almost blending them together. So, although the work is done very slowly, one of our sewing machines being equal to a hundred Kaffirs, or thereabouts, in point of speed, it is done with a degree of efficacy that no machine can ever approach. I have in my collection very many examples of Kaffir sewing, and in every instance the firmness and solidity of the workmanship are admirable. Their fur-sewing is really wonderful, for they use very close stitches, very fine thread, and join the pieces so perfectly that the set of the hairs is not disturbed, and a number of pieces will look and feel exactly as if they were one single skin.
We will begin an account of Kaffir dress with the ordinary costume of a man. Until he approaches manhood, the Kaffir does not trouble himself about so superfluous a luxury as dress. He may wear beads and ornaments, but he is not troubled with dress in our acceptation of the word. When he becomes a man, however, he assumes the peculiar apron which may be seen by reference to any of the illustrations of Kaffir men. This garment is intended to represent the tails of animals, and by Europeans is generally called by that name. Thus, instead of saying that a man has put on his dress or his apron, he is said to have put on his “tails.” It is notable, by the way, that this form of dress extends over a considerable part of Africa, and is common to both sexes, though the details are carried out in a different manner. The principal is a belt round the waist, with a number of thongs depending from it, and we find this characteristic dress as far northward as Egypt. Indeed, strings or thongs form a considerable portion, not only of a Kaffir’s dress, but of his ornaments, as will be seen presently.
The apron of the men is called “isinene,” and is conventionally supposed to be made of the tails of slain leopards, lions, or buffaloes, and to be a trophy of the wearer’s courage as well as a mark of his taste in dress. Such a costume is sometimes, though very rarely, seen; there being but few Kaffirs who have killed enough of these ferocious beasts to make the “isinene” of their tails. I have one which was presented to me by Captain Drayson, R.A., who bought it, together with many other objects, after the late Kaffir war. It is represented by [fig. 1] in the illustration of “Costume” on page 33. It is made of strips of monkey skin, each about an inch and a half in width. These strips have been snipped half through on either side alternately, and then twisted so as to make furry cylinders, having the hair on the outside, and being fixed in that position until dry and tolerably stiff. There are fourteen of these strips, each being about fourteen inches long, but those in the middle exceeding the others by an inch or two.
The strips or “tails” are gathered together above, and sewed firmly to a broad belt of the same material, which is so covered with red and white beads that the leather cannot be seen. Across the belt are two rows of conical brass buttons, exactly identical with those that decorate the jacket of the modern “page.” These brass buttons seem to charm a Kaffir’s heart. He cannot have too many of them, and it is his delight and pride to keep them burnished to the highest amount of polish which brass will take. I have various specimens of dress or ornament formerly belonging to Kaffirs of both sexes, and, in almost every instance where the article has been very carefully made, at least one brass button is attached to it.
KAFFIR ORNAMENTS.
(See [pages 36], [37], [46], [52].)
KAFFIR NEEDLES & SHEATHS.
(See [p. 31].)
ARTICLES OF KAFFIR COSTUME.
(See [pages 32], [51].)
DOLLS.
(See [pages 32], [52].)
As long as the Kaffir stands or sits, the “isinene” hangs rather gracefully, and reminds the spectator of the sporran or skin pouch, which forms part of the Highlander’s dress. But when he runs, especially when he is rushing at full speed, the tails fly about in all directions, and have a most ludicrous effect, almost as if a bundle of living eels or snakes had been tied round the man’s waist. If a Kaffir should be too lazy to take the trouble of making so elaborate a set of “tails,” he merely cuts his “isinene” out of a piece of skin. An example of this kind of apron is seen in the [illustration], “Dolls,” 33d page, which represents a pair of figures, a Kaffir and his wife, made by the natives out of leather. Here the male figure, on the right, is shown as wearing the isinene, and having besides a short kaross, or cloak, over his shoulders. These figures are in my own collection, and will be more particularly described when we come to the dress of Kaffir females.
Most of the men wear a similar duplicate of this apron, which falls behind, and corresponds with the isinene; this second apron is called the “umucha,” and is mostly made of one piece of skin. Its use is not, however, universal, and indeed, when in his own kraal or village, the Kaffir does not trouble himself about either isinene or umucha, and considers himself quite sufficiently clothed with a necklace and a snuff box.
An [illustration] on page 117, gives a good idea of the appearance presented by a Kaffir of rank in his ordinary dress. It is a portrait of Goza, the well-known Zulu chief, whose name came prominently forward during the visit of Prince Albert to the Cape. He is one of the most powerful chiefs of the Zulu tribe, and can at any moment summon into the field his five or six thousand trained and armed warriors. Yet in ordinary life he is not to be distinguished from the meanest of his subjects by any distinction of dress. An experienced eye would, however, detect his rank at a single glance, even though he were not even clad in his “tails.” He is fat, and none but chiefs are fat in Kaffirland. In fact, none but chiefs have the opportunity, because the inferior men are forced to such constantly active employment, and live on such irregular nourishment, that they have no opportunity of accumulating fat.
But a chief has nothing whatever to do, except to give his orders, and if those orders are within human capacity they will be executed. Tchaka once ordered his warriors to catch a lion with their unarmed hands, and they did it, losing, of course, many of their number in the exploit. The chief can eat beef and porridge all day long if he likes, and he mostly does like. Also, he can drink as much beer as he chooses, and always has a large vessel at hand full of that beverage. Panda, the king of the Zulu tribes, was notable for being so fat that he could hardly waddle; but, as the reader will soon be presented with a portrait of this doubly great monarch, nothing more need be said about him.
As to Goza, he is a wealthy man, possessing vast herds of cattle, besides a great number of wives, who, as far as can be judged by their portraits, are not beautiful according to European ideas of beauty, but are each representatives of a considerable number of cows. He wields undisputed sway over many thousands of subjects, and takes tribute from them. Yet he dresses on ordinary occasions like one of his own subjects, and his house is just one of the ordinary huts of which a village is composed. When he wishes to appear officially, he alters his style of dress, and makes really a splendid appearance in all the pomp of barbaric magnificence. Also, when he mixes with civilization, he likes to be civilized in dress, and makes his appearance dressed as an Englishman, in a silk hat, a scarlet coat, and jackboots, and attended in his rides by an aide-de-camp, dressed in a white-plumed cocked hat, and nothing else.
A [portrait] of Goza in his full war-dress is given in the chapter that treats of Kaffir warfare.