The Babemba seem to make some attempt at mummifying the corpses of their chiefs, by rubbing the body all over with boiled maize, repeating the process till the whole skin becomes dry and shrivelled.
The following is an account, by an eye-witness, of the funeral of the Angoni chief, Mombera, who died in 1891:—
‘Men were there from all parts of the tribe, sitting in the cattle-kraal—an immense enclosure open to the sky. Before the grave was dug, one of his brothers jumped up, and placing his hands behind his head, advanced towards the place of burial, mourning all the time and performing a sort of waltzing movement. All the men at the same moment jumped to their feet and stood mourning. After this subsided, the digging of the grave was proceeded with. It was not finished till next day. Meanwhile, companies of people were coming and going, and on entering the village, stood mourning and crying at the top of their voice, “Baba be! Baba be!”[22] Before the body was brought out, there was a curious procession of his wives on their hands and knees to the grave, decorated with great bunches of feathers that only the chief is allowed to wear. Soon after, the body was brought in, rolled in cloth, and deposited in the grave in a sitting posture with his face to the east. This was the signal for all jumping up, and closing round the grave in a big circle, and there mourning and rending the air with cries. Only men were allowed in the kraal at this time. (The Zulus never allow women in the cattle-kraal at any time.) They stood with their shields over their heads, crying out. Afterwards the young men came marching in in companies and stood mourning for a little, then retired. Meanwhile they were depositing in the grave along with him an immense amount of calico, dresses, etc.—I dare say the accumulation of years; cooking-pots, drinking-vessels, mats, and pipes also went in. During this time, the women were mourning in their own style and causing a fearful din. They appeared as if bereft of their senses, catching one another, and going through some queer movements.’
Among the Anyanja of the Lake (at Likoma and on the east side), the place of the sacred grove is taken by something like a mausoleum. A small house is built over the grave (instead of the grave being dug within the house occupied when living), or it is planted round with a hedge of euphorbia; these fashions may perhaps have been borrowed from the coast men. I have seen the grave of a Yao chief near Domasi, covered with what looked like a flat slab of concrete, but was probably an earthen mound smoothly plastered over with mud. It was enclosed in a high reed fence. The idea of this, too, was probably imported.
The subject of offerings to the spirit, which are sometimes made at the grave, has been discussed in a former chapter. As there stated, they are more usually presented elsewhere, unless the deceased has been buried inside his own house. But, though avoided by the relations, the grave is held sacred, and lawsuits may arise out of its desecration. One of the worst acts of sacrilege that can be committed—in fact, an act amounting to social suicide—is ‘to break a pot at the grave of some family not your own ... the offender’s life is forfeited, and he lives only as the slave of the grave-owners till redeemed.’
The next step after the burial is to destroy the house occupied by the deceased. It is burned or pulled down, and the foundation dug over. The thatch and other things are carried away and burned at the cross-roads, and what is not burned is buried; the site is swept all over, and fresh earth spread on it. Children are warned not to play there. ‘A pot is put down to receive offerings of beer, and when any special offering is given to the deceased, it is usually presented here. If this place become too public (as when children play near and send dust into the pot), the pot will be removed and placed under a tree at a little distance from the village.’
If the man is buried in his own house, as is sometimes done with chiefs, it is not taken down, but shut up and left to decay. A large part of the dead man’s stock of calico is draped over the roof, and offerings are presented under the verandah. A local head-man named Matope died near Blantyre in 1893, and the white roof of his hut was a landmark visible for miles throughout the following year. In such cases, a hole is first dug in the floor, then a niche is made in the side of the hole. The position of this niche is carefully concealed from all except those immediately concerned, and no two graves of this kind have it in the same place.
On the day when the house is taken down, the mourners, in some cases, have their heads shaved, and some of the hair is buried on the site of the house. This is only where there are two shavings; where there is only one, the hair is allowed to grow till the end of the mourning. It is thought that the hair which the deceased has seen must not remain after he is buried, or at any rate after the subsequent ceremonies are finished.
The mourning may last for two or even three months longer. Its duration is decided by the most influential relative. The survivors do not wash or oil themselves; in some cases they are forbidden to eat warm food, to use salt, or to drink beer. Yet beer is sometimes brewed during this period, to be drunk at the mourning dances which take place from time to time. The Atonga keep a fire burning all this time in front of the dead man’s house (which seemingly they do not destroy), called the ‘forbidden fire,’ because it may not be used for any ordinary purposes. It has been kindled by the chief undertaker from the fire within the deceased’s house, with a wisp of grass out of the roof—like the torch already mentioned. If a fire is wanted for cooking, a light must be fetched from one of the houses of the living. When the mourning is over, the first thing done is to brew a large quantity of beer, and, when that is ready, to kill fowls and cook porridge—in fact, to hold the funeral feast, which in other parts of the world takes place immediately after the burial. This is intended to convey that sorrow is not to last for ever; but the dead is not forgotten—on the contrary, he is especially remembered, and his spirit is supposed to share in the festivities. Regular drinking-songs are sung in chorus. The undertakers attend and superintend the shaving of the mourners’ heads, taking off a little piece of hair in front and one behind for each person, and leaving the rest to be done by others. The hair is buried on the site of the house; the Atonga burn it in a fresh fire made by rubbing two sticks,[23] and the ‘forbidden fire’ is put out.
On the day of this shaving, what corresponds to the proving of the will is done—the deceased’s affairs are settled, and his property, if any, handed over to his successor. With the succession to the chieftainship we shall deal in another chapter. A man’s next heir is his eldest surviving brother, or failing brothers, his sister’s son. We have already said that the dead man’s wife or wives are inherited by his successors; but this requires some qualification. What really happens, among one section at least of the Anyanja, is this:—‘The relations, after a decent interval’ (it is the rule that, during the period of mourning, nothing must be said about the disposal of the property or re-marriage of the widows), ‘take a corn-stalk, break it into as many pieces as there are eligible men in the family, and send them to the woman by the hand of the chief of the bearers[24] (who are chosen from outside the family). She may take one up from the ground and show it, saying, ‘I want so and so.’ The man so named becomes the heir. If the woman refuses all the men, she will have to repay the original marriage gifts which her husband made to her family, and often much more. If the man chosen refuses the woman, he sends her an arrow or a fowl, or some other small present, but usually an arrow, and tells her to marry some other man. If so, he gets no marriage gifts returned to him.’