Sporting Scenes amongst the Kaffirs of South Africa

by Alfred W. Drayson

I have before mentioned one or two little open patches on the top of the Berea. I was riding over these one afternoon, looking for fresh elephant spoor, when I saw, about two hundred yards distant, a black object just visible in the long grass, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was a black bush-buck. I dropped off my horse, and stalked with the greatest care to within about eighty yards of it; I suddenly raised my head to get a peep, and saw only a black back, and recognised a little movement in the tail, which was very buck-like. The object was partly hidden by bushes and grass; the spot was most retired.

I guessed where the shoulders would be, and sent my bullet at them into the long grass; the animal fell over backwards, and I rushed to the spot to discover an old goat, shot directly through the heart. At the same time a little Kaffir sprang up close to the corpse, in a great fright. He informed me that this was the pet ram of an old Kaffir who lived nearly two miles distant; that the grass having been burnt near his kraal, he had sent his boy with the pet to graze on this spot, where the grass was very good. It cost me three shillings to pacify the old fellow, and an extra fee to secure his silence, as the story would not have told well for me. This accident I believe saved a Kaffir’s life from being sacrificed to a similar mistake; for I again took for a buck a black object in a most retired part of the forest. I was about firing when I remembered the goat mistake, and approached a little closer to have a better look. I was prepared in case of the buck bounding off, when I gave a little whistle to alarm it, and enable me to have a full view. The object moved when I whistled, and rising to nearly six feet in height, showed itself to me as an old Kaffir man. I was truly thankful that I had not put a bullet into his head. Upon chatting with him, he told me that he was residing two or three days in the bush, previous to his giving a prophecy on some important affair in his kraal. He certainly was no true Kaffir, if he could not tell a thumping lie, after three days getting it up, in the solitude of the bush.

Returning one afternoon from shooting, I saw a party of Kaffirs sitting round my tent, and upon riding up I was informed by one of my dark servants that a chief had come in from the Umzriububu district, to transact some business, and being his particular chief he had asked him to stay and have a talk with me. I was much flattered by this mark of approbation, and at once asked M’untu Umculu into my tent, where we squatted down and took pinch after pinch of strong snuff, until my guest’s shining hide became indistinct and shadowy through the tears that forced themselves from the inmost recesses of my eyes.

We said not a word, but the long-drawn sighs that now and then with bellows-like expression emanated from M’untu, gave earnest of his unqualified delight and pure uninterrupted enjoyment.

After half an hour of unsneezing silence, I managed to stutter out, Chela pela’s indaba incosi (tell me the news, chief), to which M’untu politely replied that “the news should come from me.” We had some pleasant and instructive conversation, during which I discovered that the six ladies who were sitting round outside were M’untu’s wives, the three men were his servants, and one old fellow, with a very high ring on his head, was his familiar councillor. I ordered an ox’s head for their lunch, and expressed a wish that I should see my worthy visitor during the course of the evening. About eight o’clock he came to me in the mud hovel that served as mess-room, and accepted my offer of a seat. He appeared with his retinue of wives, etc. It is strange what different customs exist in different lands. While the princesses of Oude allow not even their beautiful eyes to be seen, the princesses of Kaffirland consider statuesque absence of drapery fashionable. Civilisation prefers the half-way-between-the-two style which many of our ball-room belles now practise. M’untu Umculu appeared wonderfully at his ease, and offered me his snuff-box with the solemnity of a judge. He was decidedly an oracle in his own circle, and although apparently not more than twenty, seemed to have inspired each and every one of his six wives with an awe and a reverence for his word and look, that might give an excellent example to many a man who has only one sixth of his difficulties.

Having on the table a stone bottle of gin, containing about two gallons, I poured out a tumbler-full and offered it to my visitor; he took a little sip, another, then a big draught, and then with one gulp, down it all went. I watched him attentively, but he never even winked his eye. I waited for a short time to watch progress, but M’untu’s thirsty nature impelled him to push his tumbler over to me again. I cautioned the Kaffir chief that the spirit which he wished to drink was very powerful, and if he repeated his potation it would probably make him drunk. He, however, still begged for a fresh tumbler-full, and finding that he would take no denial, I complied with his request, as I considered that a bad headache in the morning would be a good excuse for me to give a lecture to my tippling guest. I therefore refilled his glass,—in one minute it was bottom upwards, the contents having gone down his throat with a plaintive gurgle—no wink this time either. For quantity and time I could have laid odds on M’untu against any sot of Saint Giles’s.

I now saw my solemn friend’s countenance begin to light up, his tongue’s dignity relaxed, and he commenced talking. His wealth and his performances were the theme. The third tumbler brought out the warmth of the savage’s heart. Calling each of his wives by name, he made them drop on all fours and crawl up to him; retaining the tumbler in his own hands for security, he placed it to their lips, jerked a little up their noses, and sent them away still crawling and facing him. Oh! what a refreshing exhibition of domestic obedience! Suddenly, with the tone of an emperor, he ordered one of his servants to bring some sugar-cane and honey, both of which he by a wave of his arm indicated were for me and my heirs for ever. A fourth tumbler caused a continuous and indistinct utterance of unconnected sentences in a loud voice, whilst a graceful and unceasing rolling motion pervaded his body. His councillor had tried to stop this jovial proceeding at the third tumbler, but had received a backhander from M’untu that had certainly checked any further interference; the rolling of his body had increased rapidly during the fourth tumbler, and it had scarcely been emptied before M’untu Umculu, chair and tumbler, came with a crash to the ground.

The councillor, who had wisely ordered the wives away as soon as he saw what was going on, now came in, and with the aid of three Kaffirs lifted M’untu up and bore him away, not without considerable opposition, however, as he still held out his broken glass; and its splintered remains were the last thing that disappeared from the door, entreatingly held towards me at arm’s length. I soon after sent for the councillor and requested him to remind M’untu Umculu in the morning of the ridiculous exhibition he had made, and to state, that, although my hospitality obliged me to give him what he had requested, I still did not think so highly of him as I had done previously, and warned him against all strong drinks as his greatest enemies. On the following morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard some talking outside my tent, and upon opening the canvass door, saw my drunken guest of last night, sitting down coolly outside. Immediately he saw me he held out his hand and thanked me in a most gentlemanly manner for my kind entertainment of the night before. I asked him if his head ached, but he complained of nothing, and certainly appeared quite right, with the exception of a slight redness about the eyes. What would some of my readers give for a cranium of this strength? Perhaps this child of nature’s head did not yet know how to ache. I accepted an invitation to go and hunt in the district that acknowledged M’untu’s rule, and with the “united kind regards” of the suite they trudged off; M’untu in the most delicate way having left a gourd snuff-box with my Kaffir, to be presented to me when he was out of sight. I heard that game was plentiful near the kraal of this Kaffir, and shortly after, while the friendship was warm, went down the coast to see him. We had very fair sport with buck and buffalo.

The shooting amusement at Natal could be changed sometimes, as the fishing in the bay was excellent. With a boat anchored in the channel a large number of fish of different kinds were often caught—rock-cod in great numbers especially, and a fish there called a kiel-back, very like a cod in appearance, and weighing generally twenty-five or thirty pounds. Sharks are frequently seen in the bay, and on the bar at the entrance they swarm, presenting anything but an agreeable prospect, in case of an upset in the surf-boat. I have heard that on the outside of the harbour they have frequently taken men down, while inside they are considered harmless. Why they should thus change their dispositions in so short a distance it is difficult to say, but that they do not make a habit of attacking bathers in the bay I am certain, as I was in the water morning and evening, and frequently swam out a considerable distance from the shore—thus offering a good bite to a shark. I believe the reason to be, that inside the bay there are enormous shoals of small fish, so that a shark could feast for months on them and scarcely show that he had diminished their numbers. He does not, therefore, suffer from an unsatisfied appetite so much as his unfortunate brethren, who may not have such comfortable snug quarters, or be able to find their way to them when pressed by hunger.

I never tried a fly in the bay, but am convinced it would be taken very well. There is a fish called a “springer” that makes tremendous leaps out of the water after insects, and would give capital sport. These fish are very cunning and not to be caught like common fish with a simple hook and line; they will come up and look at the bait, swim round it in all directions, but will not even nibble. If you throw a piece of the same substance as your bait overboard, twenty of them make a rush at once to seize it, then have a sniff at your hooked bit, give a kind of chaffing whisk of their tails, and then sail away. These fellows made me very angry; I tried the thinnest lines, but it was no go, the water being so clear; but at last I devised a plan for circumventing them. Having by great practice acquired the art of throwing the assagy, I procured one that had a small barbed end, that the Kaffirs used for fish. I put a piece of lead round the part where the iron joined the wood, and made a piece of string fast to the spear, harpoon fashion. Getting the boat into that part of the bay frequented by these artful fish, I made all ready for a lunge, and told the Kaffir to throw out some little chopped pieces of meat. A dozen springers rose after them at once, close to the boat, and not more than a few feet under water. Allowing for the refraction of the water, the spear was thrown down with great force; it disappeared, but soon came up again near the top of the water, the end violently agitated. A gentle, but steady haul on the line, brought a struggling springer to the boatside, where my Kaffir, slipping his hand in his gills, landed him.