Twenty-Five Years in a Waggon in South Africa: Sport and Travel in South Africa

by Andrew A. Anderson

From the last outspan on the Notuane, at the junction of the Limpopo, mentioned in the last chapter, the road for eight miles is close to the bank of the Limpopo river, where I had some fishing, but instead of catching any fish, I caught a young iguana, two feet long, and had great difficulty to land him. It was necessary to kill the beast to release the hook. At the bend of the river the road turns north-west, and goes on to Ba-Mangwato. There are several cattle-posts at the bend belonging to Khama’s people and the traders at that station; and also immense ant-hills, of the same kind as those at Motsodie. I measured one, twenty feet high and nearly sixty feet in circumference, made by these little white ants; my waggon looked quite small beside it.

The climate here is very peculiar, hot sun, 99 degrees in the shade, with cold blasts of wind every four or five minutes in regular waves, reducing the heat to 70 degrees, which we feel very cold. This is one great cause of rheumatism and fever. To-day was almost melting with heat; I took shelter under the waggon, but had not been there three minutes when I had to get into the waggon, being so cold from the wind, which feels as if it came from a frozen region. If in a violent perspiration, fever comes on, if care is not taken to prevent a chill. The road from this place to Mongwato is fifty-five miles. In the dry season there are only three places where water can be obtained.

On one of the tributaries of the Limpopo is a circular rock in the veldt, no other stones near it, fifteen feet in diameter, and similar in shape to a ball cut through the centre, and placed on the ground, only it belongs to the rock beneath the soil. This rock has been covered with carvings, the greater portion of which is nearly smooth by large animals rubbing against it, giving it quite a polish. Sufficient lines are left to show it has been well cut with some sort of figures, and on one side where it curves in a little, and is out of the way of elephants, rhinoceros, and other animals, the carvings are nearly perfect. They represent paths with trees and fruit on each side; upon one is a snake crawling down with a fruit or round ball in its mouth, near it is a figure, and a little distance off another figure with wings, almost like an iguana, flying towards a man who is running away; his left foot is similar to that of a horse, the right one has two points—evidently Satan; the intermediate spaces have many stars. The upper part of the stone has, in the centre, a small hollow of a cup-shape, with two circles of the same round the centre one. It is a very interesting monument, and appears to be very old, from the fact of the other portions being partly obliterated by the rubbing of animals against it. The rock is very hard and similar to those geologists call igneous. There are many rocks of the same description, with carvings of animals, snakes, and figures on them, and from their position they have been preserved from animals defacing them. In several parts of the country many of them are well executed.

A few days previous to my arrival here in 1877, three Boers, with their waggons, were endeavouring to find a new drift in the Limpopo river, and went in to cross to the opposite side. They had nearly reached the bank, when the foremost looked round and saw a large crocodile come up from the water and seize the head of the last man between his jaws, and disappear with him. His name was Herman, a married man, twenty-six years of age. Nothing more was seen of him but blood in the water. His widow, a few months after, consoled herself with another husband. At this time, soon after the British Government had annexed the Transvaal, the Boers, wherever I met them, were always friendly—so much so, that I have often been invited to take one of their daughters for a wife. They were rather proud to have an Englishman for a son-in-law. I was outspanned not many weeks back at a very pretty pool of water, or spring, the water of which fell into the Notuane river, in what is termed the Bush Veldt, that I might have a little shooting. The second day an old Boer and his wife came to me to ask if I would buy some ostrich feathers, taking me to be a trader, for all Englishmen travelling through the country will do a little in the way of barter; therefore I told them if they were good I would. When coffee was handed to them as a matter of custom, they asked where my wife was. On stating I was single, the old vrow said I must have one of her daughters; she had two mooi (pretty) girls, and would bring them the next day for me to see when she brought the feathers. Accordingly, the next day, true to her promise, she came with the old man and her two girls to the waggon; both very young, the eldest not more than seventeen, and not bad-looking for Dutch girls, apparently very modest and shy, with a conscious look of what they were brought for. After settling about the feathers, the old mother pointed out her daughters to me, and told me, pointing to the eldest, she would make me a mooi vrow, and that she had a farm of her own and some stock. Both the girls, sitting together by their mother, looked down and giggled every now and again, giving me sly glances from beneath their cappies (the usual covering for the head for old and young), and then another giggle. They had evidently been got up for the occasion by their smart dresses, well-made English boots, and clean white stockings, to show off a pretty foot and ankle, which certainly they both possessed, and were not backward in showing. This is very unusual, they generally have clumsy feet. When at home these articles are never worn, only leather shoes called veldtscoons, which the men make. They say—which is quite true—that stockings are dirty when you walk about in a sandy country. However, after a long visit, coffee and biscuits, I arranged that on my return I would come and pay them a visit, and talk over the matter, as my opinion was either of them would make excellent vrows, and left the best of friends. The old woman’s last words were, “You can take my daughter as soon as you come for her,” and an encouraging glance from the daughter terminated this interesting meeting, enhanced, as it was, by the anticipation of having the felicity soon to possess so charming a young lady. I have had many such offers from Boers, who were favourable to Englishmen at that time. However, unfortunately my pursuits called me in another direction.

The country between the Limpopo and Ba-Mangwato, the chief Khama’s station, is very pretty, plenty of guinea-fowls, partridges, and pows. Far away from the road on the left, seven miles from the bend of the Limpopo, is a large pan where lions are always known to be, and beyond is Brakwater, where ten years before I lost an ox from out of my cattle kraal one dark night when outspanned. It is the custom, with all travellers when in the Lion Veldt to kraal their cattle at night. Seventeen miles beyond Brakwater are the Khamitsie Pits, where water seldom fails, and close to them is a large dry pan quite a mile in length. The road passing round at the upper end, and fifteen miles beyond, winds through the veldt into the ancient river-bed leading to Mongwato. The whole region for hundreds of miles is one continuation of wood, inhabited by a few Bushmen. The country for so many months without water is uninhabitable, except at the springs. The distance by this river road from Molapololo to Mongwato is 164 miles.

Ba-Mangwato, or Shoshong, is the chief town of Khama. The chief Sekomo ruled at this station, until Machin, his brother, drove him from the chieftainship, and at Machin’s death, after considerable fighting, Khama, son of Sekomo, became the chief of the people over this territory. They belong to the Bakalihari tribe of the Bechuana family. It is a very important station, situated at the foot of a long range of beautiful hills, and up an opening in the range, where an ancient river-bed passes through, and where the mission station and church are situated, it is one of the most romantic valleys in this part of the country. When I first knew the station, the Rev. Mr Mackenzie had charge, now the Rev. Mr Hepburn lives in a very comfortable house up this kloof. The hills are formed of various kinds of sandstone of a brown colour. At the back, some distance beyond the church, is a very singular hill, with a perpendicular cliff on the upper portion. The stratification makes it look like a regular wall, with its horizontal layers so regularly placed. In Sekomo’s and Machin’s time the town was much larger, but since the wars it is considerably diminished. The chief Khama lives in the lower town, and has only one wife, being a good Christian and a great help to the missionary. The traders’ stores are also in the lower town, and form quite a little village by themselves. Messrs Francis and Clark have a fine store, and a building which is occasionally used as a concert-hall by the traders, who sometimes muster in considerable numbers, and out of so many a good band is got together. Most of those stationed there are splendid musicians, both vocally and instrumentally, so that many an enjoyable evening is spent to break the monotony of a life so far removed from the outer world. They have also their cricket matches, horse races, lawn tennis, football, and other sports. Mr Hepburn is indefatigable in his mission labour in civilising the natives, combined with the good example set them by the traders at the station. The chief Khama is a gentleman in every sense of the word. I have met him and felt much pleasure in his society. He has prohibited spirits being sold to his people, and on my last visit but one he did me a great service, and helped me in the most kind way by taking charge of my oxen when I had been two days without water, having arrived at Mongwato expecting to obtain some, but there was not a drop, not sufficient even for the people. On hearing of my arrival, he came down and took my oxen in his charge, sent them with one of his herds to his cattle-post eighteen miles away on the river Mokalapse, to the north of the town, and kept them there for twelve days, until I could trek to Matabeleland. He requires all travellers who enter his territory to call upon him, that he may know who is passing through, in case they require any help he can give. Those who avoid doing so, if they get into trouble, must get out of it the best way they can. All the roads from the south meet at Mongwato; one goes to Lake N’gami, another to the Chobe, two to the Zambese, and one main road to the Matabeleland, with branches leading to the Victoria Falls.

The people at one time were very unruly and troublesome to travellers. In 1868 I was at the station when a trader came in with some brandy; we outspanned close together outside the town. The next day the traders at the station, and there were some fourteen, indulged too much; one in particular had so far forgotten himself as to take a leg of pork to the kotla or council enclosure, where the chief Machin was sitting with his councillors, and held the leg of pork in the chief’s face, and asked if he liked the smell. These Kaffirs are like the Jews with respect to pork. This created an uproar in the station; the trader was severely beaten, and the whole town turned out to kill all the white men. They, hearing of this, fortified themselves in their stores. Hundreds of Kaffirs paraded the town, visiting the waggons with their knobkerry and assagai, threatening destruction to all the white men. The course which I thought best to take was to sit on my front waggon-box and smoke my pipe; time after time hundreds surrounding my waggon, raising their assagais as if to hurl them at me, and brandishing their kerries. Knowing the Kaffir character pretty well, I went on smoking as if they were most friendly, and seeing they could make no impression, they rushed away to other parts of the town. At last the chief sent round some of his councillors to all white men, ordering them all out of the town, bag and baggage, by four o’clock the next day. Mr Mackenzie, the missionary, left the day before to go to England. Not having anything particular to do, I, with the trader who came in with me, inspanned in the evening to trek towards Selene Pan, forty-five miles on the road to Molapololo, which we reached the following afternoon, and all that night and the next day traders came treking in, until thirty-six waggons had assembled and nearly fifty span of oxen, which looked more like a commando than traders flying from the wrath of a powerful chief. It was a very pretty sight. The man who committed this insult was too ill to be removed, and was left behind. He recovered, and, I think, became a wiser man. If it had occurred a few years before, he would have been killed, and the traders also. He richly deserved the punishment he received. This will show that the Kaffirs at that time had been brought under great control, for no greater offence could be given than an insult to their chief. Some little time after this affair, the chief, when solicited, allowed the traders to return.

The chief Khama dresses well, and looks like a gentleman. Many of his people also dress, as well as the women. They are strong and well-made; some still wear their skin dresses and a profusion of beads and brass rings, but I think in a few years these will be abandoned for European clothes. Begging is still largely practised, particularly for tobacco. They cultivate corn, mealies, pumpkins, melons extensively, and have large herds of cattle of all kinds, which are kept at the different posts away from the town, and milk is brought in on pack-oxen to those who have no cows. They also make Kaffir beer from their Kaffir corn, and, if well-made, it is very nice. This is the only extensive interior trading-station in this region. There are other trading-stations beyond: at Tati gold-fields, and in Matabeleland, and also at Pontarnatinka, where Mr G. Westbeach has a large store, and others beyond, and also on the north side of the Zambese river, where a large and increasing trade is now being carried on by the English traders at the chief Secheke’s on the north side of the Zambese.

The main direct road from Molapololo to Mongwato runs north-north-east through a bush country with fine trees. The distance is 133 miles, and very pretty, the formation being argillaceous limestone; most of the hills are sandstone. At a fountain at Koopan, twenty miles on this road, are some large masses of sandstone rocks, standing out like walls of an old castle that cover an extensive area. In these rocks are many fossil remains of seeds, nuts, shells, ammonites, and one trilobite, also footprints of animals. As it was impossible to obtain them, I remained two days to make correct sketches and measurements, being most interesting specimens. In many parts of the interior, where this light sandstone has been exposed by denudation, particularly in the deep beds of those dry rivers in the Kalahara, footprints are very numerous, which I have taken great care to copy, and also all the carvings on the rocks. The other permanent waters on this road are Bartlanarme in the chalk-pits, and Lepepe; also Selene pan. Both are favourite localities for the giraffe, and here I have remained several days to hunt them, and was fortunate enough to shoot one out of five that were coming to drink. Eight miles from Bartlanarme we shot two out of seven, and at another time Mr Hume, of Port Elizabeth, a hunter, came upon several, and shot three from the saddle, from my horse, which I lent him. One we had brought to the waggon, and left the other two for the Bushmen. The flesh is very fine. It is a pity such beautiful animals should be destroyed merely for food and skins. In this part almost every variety of game is to be found. Such a vast extent of open country—where the white man is never seen beyond the transport road, and its inhabitants Bushmen only,—extending in an uninterrupted forest westward 500 miles, and the same in breadth, is no small hunting-ground to roam over for a hunter to pick his game. Twenty years ago, I may say up to 1875, game, as well as lions, wolves, and other beasts of prey, were much more numerous than at the present time. In the north and west of Khama’s country up to the Zambese, along the Zouga river, are the great Makarakara pans, and others; the large game, such as elephants, rhinoceros, buffalo, and giraffe, were plentiful, but of late years many hunters have been for months and scarcely met with any.