In a country of this description one has the pleasure of great freedom. It is certainly pleasant for once in a life to feel like a wild man,—to throw off all the restraints imposed by the rules of society, and to wander, unwatched, uncriticised, amongst the wonders and beauties of nature. Dress, that all-important subject in civilised countries, and about which the minds of hundreds are wholly engrossed, is here a dead letter, or nearly so. Could a man dye his hide a dark brown, he might walk about with a few strips of wild-beast skins hung around him, and not attract particular attention. Novelty has certainly a wonderful charm, and perhaps it may be for this reason that a man fresh from civilisation feels so much pleasure in sharing the pastimes and excitements of the savage. A wet tent is by no means an agreeable residence, and frequently during the heavy rains that visited Natal, I shouldered my gun, and paid an afternoon call to some Kaffirs who lived a mile or so from my camping-ground. We had plenty of conversation, and could afford mutual instruction about many subjects on which we were each respectively ignorant. I believe that, if we inquire without partiality, we shall find no man so ignorant but that there is some one subject upon which he can instruct us. I rarely found a Kaffir who could not afford me a vast amount of information on many subjects; and all the cunning and art of an English lawyer would scarcely improve the Kaffir’s style of reasoning. I believe that common sense is more admired by the savage than the civilised man; it certainly is by the savages with whom I have conversed. While in civilisation the most sensible and sound arguments or advice are “pooh-poohed” or neglected, because they happen to come from one who is unknown in the world for wealth, position, or fashion, amongst savages these same arguments or advices are received at their proper valuation, irrespective of the soil from whence they spring. The words of a chief or induna (Councillor) are generally worth hearing, and consequently receive their proper respect; but if the logic used by either happens to be unsound, any common man whose capacity is equal to the competition may enter the lists, and come out victorious; a Kaffir is not too bigoted to acknowledge that he may have been wrong. The man who thus gained a victory by his more sensible argument would neither be much elevated nor proud in consequence, but would merely consider himself as a man who had pointed out a by-path that had been overlooked by the traveller. The Kaffirs easily appreciate reasoning by analogy; I frequently tried its powers upon them, and with invariable success. On one occasion an old Kaffir laughed at me, because of a mistake that I made in speaking his language. I used the word inyama to express black, when I should have used mnyama; the former word signifying flesh or meat. After he had laughed immoderately, I asked him how long he had known Englishmen; he said, many tens of moons. I then said, “How much English do you speak?”
“None.”
“Why not?”
“Because I cannot hear the Englishman’s words.” I then told him that I had known Kaffirs scarcely twenty moons, that I could speak my own language as well as he spoke his, and, in addition, I could speak his sufficiently well to converse. Therefore he ought to laugh at himself for knowing nothing of my language, not at me for knowing so little of his; besides which, as his hair was grey, he ought to possess more wisdom. He was much struck by the argument, and repeated it to several other Kaffir men, all of whom appeared equally to appreciate it. I doubt whether a civilised man would have been as much affected by this reasoning as were the Kaffirs; for how often do we find that foreigners are ridiculed by the ignorant Englishman because they cannot speak English correctly, the quiz forgetting at the same time that he cannot utter two words correctly in any other, language than his own, and that he very frequently fails even in that.
But it is the vulgar error to laugh at people as ignorant because we may discover that they know less on some one subject than we do. Some of our most scientific men would be sad “pigeons” and regular dunces, were they to show in the ring at Epsom, and few of our celebrated statesmen would be equal to the savage in the crafts necessary in an African forest. The savages rarely make the blunder of choosing the wrong man; they are very excellent judges of character, and consequently would not choose a man to fire a long shot or fight a battle because he was a good hand at stringing beads together, or talking at their council-fires. They select the man on account of his fitness for the post. Here savages have a great advantage over civilised men. Amongst the latter, individuals are frequently chosen in the most fantastic way;—mere theorists are used for practical purposes; and men placed in positions where quick decision and energy of character are all-important, and where trifles should not be allowed to interfere, because perhaps these men have excelled in the minute details of some office, or are famous for increasing a correspondence already too large. We might as reasonably select a man to ride our racers simply because he had studied and understood the anatomy of the horse. While the learned theorist was arguing about or reasoning on which muscle or nerve ought to be excited, the practical jock would be busy at the “pull and hustle,” and would win as he pleased. The Kaffirs, from whom my experience was gained, however low they ranked in savage society, had none of the offensive or presumptuous manners that are met with so frequently amongst the vulgar in civilisation. They never pretended to more than they possessed in any way, or by a system of deceit, lying, or false appearance, endeavoured to persuade others that they were really more than simple savages.
Let us now contrast these men with a civilised house. On one occasion I paid a visit to the house of a settler, who was clothed in white linen jacket, straw hat, fustian trowsers, and coarse shirt, and was busy at work in his garden. His wife met me, and, being acquainted, we at once entered into conversation. I wished to hear about the soil, the thriving of poultry, etc.; but at first this would-be great lady could utter nothing but apologies for being so “dreadfully dressed.” She then gave a long history of the number of her great friends in England, and described the astonishment of these aristocrats were they to hear of her being in such a wilderness. Then, pointing to her husband, she said, “Ah, dear me! to see — now, you would scarcely imagine what a stylish man he was formerly. In England, he used to wear his hair long, and when he had greased it, and put on a clean shirt on a Sunday, there was not a more gentlemanly-looking man in London.” With some difficulty I immediately invented a story, at which I pretended to laugh immoderately, and thus concealed my want of appreciation of the former elegance of her dear, fallen spouse.
The extremes on very many occasions appear to meet. The perfectly uncultivated man is certainly nearer perfection than he who has picked up a little knowledge, and is puffed up in consequence. We see this in so many subjects. In music, for instance, it is sweeter to hear a person (who may be ignorant of the science) play by ear an air, than listen to the struggles and unmusical contortions produced by some beginner trying to play by notes, on scientific principles. When one advances, and makes the acquired knowledge subservient to the natural, the admired effect is then produced.
A ring, composed of grease, wax, and wood, is worn on the head of the Kaffir men. I believe it to be a sign of a man having arrived at the dignity of marriage; it is called esikoko, the two k’s signifying two clicks of the tongue.
This clicking is a peculiarity of several South-African languages. The Bushmen, Hottentots, and Kaffirs have each several clicks. The Natal Kaffirs use but three, and these not frequently, as there are few words but can be understood without the click. In the Bushmen’s language, very many are used, and I have heard that a Bushman is not considered to speak his language elegantly until age has deprived him of all his teeth. These curious little men use a great deal of action during their conversation; and it is said, that if a Bushman wishes to talk during a dark night, he is obliged to light a fire, to enable the listeners to see his action, and thereby fully to comprehend his meaning. A deadly hatred exists between the Kaffirs and the Bushmen, and war to the knife is the result of any chance encounter, always supposing that neither party can retreat, as they have a mutual dread of each other.
I soon made inquiries with reference to the game in the Natal district, and was informed that the following were the principal animals that were plentiful; viz.,—snipe, quail, partridges of three species, pheasant, two species of Guinea-fowl,—one that was generally found in the plains, the other in the forests: the latter was a very fine bird, excellent eating, and very handsome; he had a fine top-knot on his head, but was otherwise similar, only superior in size, to that of the plains. Two species of bustards were common; viz., the coran and the pouw, both excellent eating, the latter frequently reaching to a great size and weight. Ostriches were sometimes met on the plains near the Draakensberg Mountains. Many birds, brilliantly adorned, frequented the forests, amongst which the golden cuckoo and the lowry were conspicuous. Eagles and hawks of all sizes sailed around in search of prey, while the little sugar-birds, with their long fluttering tails and their dazzling plumage, gave an appearance of life to every bush.