I left them for Abequis pita, which are in limestone; it is a Koranna station, under the chief Puffadder. The country is open and flat; the grass in many places was up to my chin with white feathery flowers; at a distance it looks like snow. The road is very good for waggon travelling, and around Springbok fountain the scenery is very pretty. At Abequis pits the Korannas have many huts, and seem to be doing well; they have flocks of goats, and a few Africander sheep. They brought me some very good feathers, which I took in exchange for powder and caps; many of them have the old flint gun, which would be a curiosity now in England.
The winters here are warm; it is now mid-winter, thermometer in the shade 68 degrees. The men wear old leather trousers, which constitute their dress, the women an old blanket thrown over the left shoulder, and brought round and held in front by the hand. Overmodesty is not a failing with them. They were very civil, supplied my people with goats’ milk, and I gave them what they much needed, tobacco, as the women are great smokers. Dozens of them will sit or be lying round my fire, having only two or three bone pipes between them, each taking a few puffs and passing it on to the next, until all have had a turn; then they begin again, the old ones keeping a pipe to themselves. My maids, Topsey and Nina, the daughters of my Piet, knew these people, therefore I got on very well, Piet also lived once with them. The country towards the south and west was a level plain as far as the eye could see.
The next morning after the second day, started to the northwards; we passed a large vlei on the left, six miles from the Koranna station, which is the commencement of the sand-dunes. The dunes are small until sixteen miles of country are passed, then they assume great proportions. A mile to the left is another vlei, where we filled our water-casks and gave the oxen water, and remained the night, to have a clear day to pass over them. There were three Griquas’ waggons outspanned, each waggon was full of women and children, each Jack had his Jill, and each a baby, plenty of little naked children of both sexes. They told me they were on the trek to the Orange river. These people are always quiet and civil, they exchanged a fat sheep for some tobacco. All the country, including the sand-dunes, is limestone with sand above, and full of low bush, many large and small land-shells are mixed up in the sand.
July 17th.—The Griquas left early in the morning, and we started to cross the sand-dunes. A fearful road, their sides are about at an angle of thirty, and every time we ascend one, we have to put two spans of twenty-eight oxen in, to pull one waggon up at a time, which causes much delay shifting them backwards and forwards, as each dune rises from 150 to 200 feet in height, with deep sand in the road, the wheels sinking nine inches into it. After struggling over these for five hours, the oxen were done up, and we outspanned for the day at another large dry vlei, but on the bank a small spring of water was issuing, sufficient for the oxen and ourselves, a grand discovery, as we did not expect to find any until we had got clear of this heavy road. A short distance from the water were several families of Bushmen, sitting round a large fire; some of them had most extraordinary figures, thin calfless legs, prominent chests and abdomen, altogether different from the other Bushmen of the desert, and the colour of their skin was much lighter. A thin band of leather round their loins, and a skin over their shoulders was their only covering; long bundles of skins rolled up with several spears were lying on the ground. The food they live on in a great measure gives them this peculiar formation. They had the short bow and arrow, and quivers made of skins, full of arrows, cleverly made with bone heads, all smeared with poison. They appear to be half-Bushman, half-Koranna.
I started the next morning, and after toiling for several hours, rested, and again went on, crossing those lofty ridges until dark, outspanned for the night in a deep hollow, where there was plenty of good grass, and trees, and dead wood for fire. Our trek this day was about eight miles; two great fires were made, and our little party of twenty-six all told, made themselves comfortable over their supper, and at ten all were fast asleep. But we did not get much rest, the lions kept round the camp making a great noise, and being surrounded by these hills and thick bush, we were the greater part of the night obliged to keep a sharp look-out that none of our animals were taken. Early the next morning I took my rifle and mounted one of these sand-dunes before inspanning, and found from the base to the summit registered 204 feet. But what a sight when I looked round; as far as the eye could see, nothing but these immense sand-dunes in every direction, here and there open patches of yellow sand and bush, a wild, rugged, and howling wilderness, that appeared interminable, the fit abode for savage man and more savage beast, and here we find them, man in primitive nature, as low a type as the world can produce, little removed from the beast, for it is here I have met those wild men which I have described elsewhere; they are partly covered with short woolly hair, and have no forehead, the scant wool reaching the eyes. They are rarely now seen, even by the Bushmen of the desert, as they have repeatedly told me, and here they may find a home for many years to come, for no other living man will fix his residence in such a region of desolation,—
“A wilderness howling and drear,
Forsaken by man from famine or fear.”
Pringle.
On our trek we started many head of game, which are easily killed by the Bushman arrow, and with these and the many wild fruits they manage to exist. It has taken four days to cross this wild and hilly region which extends over an area as far as I have explored it, fifty miles from east to west, and nearly forty north to south: the home of the leopard and a legion of wild tiger-cats, that are spotted or striped,—their skins make beautiful karosses. On leaving these dunes we come upon a level plain of limestone, which we have ten miles to cross, where there are several watering-places, fountains they may be called, and enter sand-dunes again for some fifteen miles, and then come upon a bush country, with gentle rises and low wooded bills with isolated conical hills of granite. Close to the hills, I outspanned near a swamp; the noise from the bull-frog kept us from sleep. They are monsters, a foot across the back and quite black. The Bushmen eat them; they would form a fine dish for our French neighbours.
The weather is very fine, like an English spring day, everything seems springing into life. Clouds begin to collect on the horizon, and the sunsets are most brilliant, purple and gold, forming celestial landscapes of the most gorgeous hues. There are many ostriches to be seen on the flats, but the country is so full of holes, partly covered with grass, that it is dangerous to follow them. Far and wide in every direction the character of the country is the same, which we pass through up to Meer, the Bastard station.
We passed several small Bushmen kraals; the women and children as we approached hid themselves in the bush, but when they found we were friendly, and giving presents to the men, they came forward. At one we remained a few days to buy feathers, during the time my Bushmen and the girls soon made friends with them, and dancing went on in their fashion every evening. These women daub their faces and bodies with black stripes, which they consider ornamental. Their natural colour is half black, consequently these stripes show out prominently; they are a mild, timid race, very good-natured, willing to do anything, and, if left alone by the border tribes and the Bastards, their lives would be happy; their wants are few and easily supplied, clothes they do not require, the climate at all seasons of the year is seldom colder than our English summer, and, as these children of the desert are constantly shifting their locations, huts are not required, or only of the most primitive kind, a few sticks stuck in the ground, and the long grass thrown over them. This is a portion of the central part of the Kalahara.
When we arrived at Meer, all the people were out ostrich-hunting close round the village, a great excitement, the birds running in all directions, and the Bastards after them on their horses; they managed to shoot seven; the others, about fifty, made their escape.