A story that has been told me—for the truth of which I beg I may not be held responsible—may give an idea of the light manner in which life is regarded, particularly in the old and infirm. Although this story may, or may not, be a fact, still an anecdote on a country’s peculiarities, even if it is embellished, generally gives an idea of the people’s habits.
Panda keeps, it is said, some pet vultures, and if his supply of beef is short, and he does not like killing an ox, he pats his darling birds on the head, asking them if they are not very hungry. Then calling one of his soldiers, he directs him to go and knock old Father So-and-So on the head, and drag him into the bush for his vultures, as they are very hungry. A fit meal for a vulture—a tough old Kaffir!
I went to sleep after Eondema’s story, but could occasionally hear the voices of the party. They seemed to find eating the only thing necessary; they did not drink or sleep. On the following day I was amused at seeing an ingenious plan that the Kaffirs used to frighten the birds from their corn-gardens. These were sometimes of great extent, ten and twenty acres being in cultivation together. Several descriptions of birds, in large flocks, invaded them, and would have done great damage in carrying off the corn, but for the precautions taken. In the centre, or most elevated spot of the garden, a kind of platform was erected, on which were two or three boys and girls. From this stage three ropes (manufactured by the Kaffirs) were tied to the extreme ends of the garden, and sufficiently low to be amongst the thick stalks and stems of the Indian corn. These long lines were connected to each other on an enlarged plan of a spider’s web. When a flock of birds was seen to settle in any part of the field, two or three of the youngsters caught hold of the line that led over the spot, and shook it violently, shouting at the same time: the noise made by the rope frightened them away on the wing at once.
A white stranger was a very rare visitor in this part. As I had turned off the high road to the Zulu country, I could hear the great fact of an “Umlungo” arriving, shouted from hill to hill, and kraal to kraal; the Kaffirs generally all turned out to see me, passing remarks on myself, gun, and horses, in the coolest manner. When they found that I could speak to them in their own tongue, and was on a shooting trip, they had a much higher opinion of me than if I had been a trader. On the next night I took up my quarters at the kraal of a sporting Kaffir, who was called Inkau; he had a gun and was a mighty Nimrod, having shot elephants, buffaloes, hippopotami, and nearly all the large game. He was supplied with powder by a Dutchman at Natal, for the purpose of shooting elephants, half the ivory falling to the said Dutchman’s share. He informed me that buffaloes and elands were not farther off than we could walk while it took the sun to go from “there to there,”—pointing to two clouds in the sky. I was now pleased that I had not paid any attention to the croakers who had assured me there was no game whatever about here. Elephants were not far off either, and bucks so plentiful that they would often destroy the mealeas (as the Indian corn is here called), if it were not regularly watched. Inkau very graphically described the manner in which a buffalo was to be shot:—“You must get close to him, and shoot so,” said he, standing steady as a rock and aiming with his gun. “If you do like this, you won’t kill him;” at the same time giving effect to his explanations by shaking himself, and holding his gun as if in a great fright. Inkau’s description was correct.
As it was still nearly an hour to sundown, I went with two or three Kaffirs to a neighbouring ravine, in which a reit-buck was generally found. Inkau, like nearly every Kaffir whom I have seen, could only shoot well at a stationary object; this reit-buck, therefore, by keeping a sharp look-out, had managed to escape so many times from Inkau’s erring bullet, that at last he gave up firing at him as a waste of powder. On our nearing the long reeds, the buck sprang out, and cantered quietly up the hill; the Kaffirs shouted to me to fire, but I waited until his outline stood out in bold relief against the sky, when I lodged an ounce of lead in his shoulder, which had the effect on him of an irresistible invitation to that night’s supper; his steaks were most excellent eating, and I thenceforth stood high in Inkau’s estimation.
A reit-buck, as he falls, weighs something over a hundred pounds, and in Inkau’s kraal, at the feast, there were about thirty people, men, women, and children. Yet such were the performances in gastronomy, that there was after dinner scarcely a sufficient quantity of the reit-buck remaining to supply me with a breakfast on the following morning. There was such a scarcity of corn in this kraal, that I had difficulty in getting even a mouthful for my horses; they suffered consequently in condition, and the one I rode on the first day, was too weak for me to get anything like a gallop out of him. I started quite early in the morning with Inkau, to a spot which he told me elands frequented. We reached a commanding position, where I pulled out my telescope for an inspection. My companion had never seen such an implement before, and could not comprehend what I was doing; so that when at last I rested it on the saddle, and got him to look through it, his delight and astonishment knew no bounds. Good sight is much valued by the Kaffirs, and the possession of a telescope would raise a man to as high a position of envy there as that of a Koh-i-noor its fortunate owner in England. No game appeared in sight, so Inkau proposed that we should make for some high table-land a few miles distant. I led my horse and walked beside Inkau, who rarely saw a clump of bushes or a distant peak, but what he had to tell me that he shot something there so many moons ago, indicating by his fingers the number.
He was a determined sportsman, and seemed to love hunting for the sake of sport alone. He did not care what work he went through, and was certainly a most gentlemanly Kaffir, as he never asked for a present, or any reward for all his trouble, and seemed unexpectedly pleased when I presented him, on leaving, with the value of a blanket, some powder, and a box of lucifer-matches. On passing near a deep woody ravine, he told me that he would go down in it and beat the bush for a buffalo, and that I might wait up at the top, where I should probably get a shot, as any game that might be in the ravine would come out on that side, and make for the dense bush by the river. I did as he requested, and heard him coolly beating the bushes in the hollow beneath. Presently something came rushing towards me; I was all ready for a buffalo, but saw only a bush-pig, which I allowed to pass unhurt, fearing that the report of my gun would alarm the country, and that my Kaffir would not consider this pig a sufficient excuse. Soon after, Inkau came out of the bush, and said, “No buffalo there to-day,” and walked quietly on. When he crossed the spoor of the bush-pig, he suddenly stopped, and looking down, said, “A buffalo has passed here this morning!” I was amused at what I thought was his mistake, and allowed him to make one or two more remarks about it; I then told him that it was a bush-pig. “No! a buffalo,” he positively asserted. The grass was long but green, and no sand could be seen, or any ground that could take an impression. I said that a bush-pig had passed there just now. “I know it,” he answered; “look here,”—pointing to where the grass was trodden down, and was still springing slowly up again,—“that is wild pig, but that”—pointing to some other marks that were on the same track—“is buffalo. Besides, a wild pig does not eat the tops of grass.” As he gave this last conclusive argument, he picked a handful of grass, and showed me the tops eaten off. I saw that I had fallen several degrees in his estimation by such great want of observation. The matter being settled beyond a doubt, he followed instantly on the trail, which led down to the river. Inkau moved at a run, so I mounted to keep up with him. We soon came to a part of the bush too thick for a horse to go through; I therefore dismounted, off-saddled, and turned my nag out to graze, and then entered the bush. As we neared the game, which we knew we were doing by the freshness of the spoor, Inkau slackened his pace; he was steady as a rock, and was evidently well supplied with nerves. He asked me whether I felt at all afraid, as he would go on alone if I did. I answered him by holding out my gun at arm’s length, when he, seeing it quite steady, complimented me, but cautioned me by saying that the buffaloes here were very dangerous. I did not think this was such sharp work as the elephant-hunting about Natal, in the thick bush, as although the buffalo is very savage and cunning, a small tree will save you from him, whereas an elephant must be fenced off with rather a big one. The usual careful approach being made, the danger in this sport is not very great. Accidents happen to men who move carelessly, either thinking that they are not near game, or anxious to show that they are not afraid. An incautious person is sure, sooner or later, to meet with a mishap, if he goes much after dangerous animals. A true sportsman need not trouble himself about what people think. Some may take a delight in being able to say that they have walked in a bush, and tired at elephants and buffaloes, without any of the precautions that I have named as necessary; I should recommend them not to do so often. We shot this buffalo, but I will give details in another part. I was afraid that some of the carnivora might feast on him, so we determined to return to my horse, and make the best of our way back to the kraal. A large party instantly set off with assagies to bring in the meat, while I had some dinner and a glass of brandy-and-water. I then strolled out to a neighbouring kloof, and poked about the bushes in search of game. Hearing some guinea-fowl calling, I drew my bullets, and put buckshot into both barrels. This is a plan I rarely practised, as it is better always to retain a bullet in one barrel; in the present case the neglect of this might have led to a serious affair. Having crept down to where I thought I heard the guinea-fowl, I saw a couple of creatures moving in the long grass. I could not see what they were; but thinking that they must be bucks, I crept down towards them until well within shot; I then stood up, and ran forward. When within a few yards of the objects, I was brought to a stand-still, by seeing a leopard jump up: he gave a snarl at me, and then bounded off, followed by a second one. They went away just like two cats, leaping lightly over everything in their course. My finger was on the trigger to fire, but remembering the Dutchman Hendrick’s advice, I thought it wiser to let them alone. I saw them go over a rocky hill some distance off, and was quite willing to let them thus retreat.
I returned up the ravine, and killed two guinea-fowl at one shot, as they were running furiously along a path. I thought my old buffalo might not be so tender as a guinea-fowl, in which supposition I was correct. A Kaffir girl plucked one of the birds for me, and I thought it particularly good, although it had not the addition of bread sauce or gravy. As it was getting dark the Kaffirs returned, almost weighed down by the immense weight of meat. Never had there been such luxurious times in their land; meat without reserve; snuff in plenty; and a round of brandy-and-water for the principal men. One or two large earthen vessels were placed on the fire, and huge pieces of the buffalo were put into them to stew. During the cooking, all the men assembled in the largest hut, which was circular, and like all the others. It was about twenty feet in diameter, about seven feet high, and in shape like a beehive. A large place in the centre was hollowed out for the fire; no chimney was considered necessary, a little hole that was in the thatch being more for look than use; the smoke from the fire was thick and blinding. The Kaffirs sat, like so many dogs, watching the meat stewing, at the same time trying little tit-bits of about half a pound or so, just as wetters to their appetites. They soon began a song, which was an extempore laudation of me: there was a great repetition of the same words, but very good time was kept, and a great deal of exercise gone through. The arms were held something in the attitude that a prizefighter would assume, and the body violently jerked up and down. Every now and then one of the party would give a signal, when they all would stop, and a man, with a very high tenor voice, shout a few words; at the termination of these a chorus would join in amidst yells and shrill whistles. Throughout, however, they kept a sort of regularity, and, although barbarous in the extreme, it was music of its kind. They did not seem to understand why I preferred to remain outside in the cold, and repeatedly asked me to come inside the hut; so not to appear exclusive, I took off my coat and waistcoat, and joined the festive scene, by which I appeared to give great satisfaction. In a quarter of an hour, however, I had had quite enough of it; I was baked nearly to a cinder, blinded with the smoke, and poisoned with the smell. A Kaffir, after his bath, is not the most sweetly perfumed animal in the world; but when five-and-twenty hot men assemble in one hut, and sit round a fire, it becomes too much to get over even with the aid of powerful snuff. I therefore pitched my tent outside, and, concealing myself between its folds, was soon asleep. The moon was still high when I awoke, and, not feeling inclined to sleep again, I took my gun, and wandered out in the cool night-air. Not a sound indicated the presence of human beings; the country all round could be as plainly seen as during the daylight, the night was so clear and bright. Several mysterious sounds occasionally could be heard both far and near; the hyaena’s laugh was frequently audible, and twice I most distinctly heard the deep growl of a lion, sounding as though he were on a range of hills some three or four miles off: there was no mistaking his voice when once heard. I stopped out for nearly an hour, enjoying the beauty of the moonlight, and the wildness of the noises that alone disturbed the night: not a breath of wind was stirring. I could see indistinctly dark forms moving about on the opposite hills, an occasional shriek from which indicated some prowling jackals or hyaenas on the look-out for prey. I soon began to feel very cold, and returned to creep again under the folds of my tent.
The following day was spent in an unsuccessful trip after elephants that Inkau had heard were near the Imvoti; we saw nothing of them, and returned home tired and hungry.
Amongst the members of this kraal was a very nice-looking Kaffir woman. The women can be handsome, although perhaps admiration for them is an acquired taste. Well, Peshauna (the girl’s name) was the best-looking of Inkau’s wives, and was placed as head woman of Inkau’s kraal; she did but little work, and was highly dressed, in the extreme of the fashion, not in crinoline or embroidery, but in beads and brass. Bound her head she had a broad band of light-bine and white beads; a pendent string of the latter hanging in a graceful curve over her eyelids, giving them the sleepy, indolent look assumed by so many of our fair sex. Bound her neck in numbers, strings of beads were negligently hung, and a little apron of fringe about a foot long was fastened round her waist; this was neatly ornamented with beads of red, white, and blue; her wrists were also decorated with bracelets made of beads and brass, while her ankles were encircled with a fringe made from monkey’s hair. This was the full-dress costume of Peshauna. To these adornments the most affable and agreeable manners were added, quite divested of that hauteur and assumption so often practised by acknowledged belles; she had a most graceful way of taking her snuff; and stuck through her ears were two very long mimosa-thorns for the purpose of combing her woolly locks. I think all must agree in placing her on record as a most charming and divine nymph! She was, alas, another’s! Twenty cows had been paid for her, and five men assagied, before she became the property of my gallant friend Inkau. It took at least a pint of gin before I could work him up to tell his story, which he did in words something like the following; his action and expression, however, had so much to do with the beauty of the story, that it loses fearfully in retailing:—