“It was out of this tribe that the principal rainmakers came. So sure and successful were they in making rain that they were always in request. Even Tshaka, the Great, came to hear of them, and was never without some of them at his Great Place, Dukuza, but as to these, well—he was ever sending for a fresh supply. But he, that Elephant, and Dingane after him, protected the Amazolo, so that they became looked up to and respected among all peoples.
“Now Luluzela, the chief of that tribe, was jealous of the first rain-making doctor, Kukuleyo, for it had come to this—that Luluzela was chief of the Amazolo but Kukuleyo was chief of him. So Luluzela waited patiently and watched his chances, for he dare not strike the rain doctor openly because Dingane favoured him, and had anything happened to him would soon have demanded to know the reason why. One day accordingly, knowing some of the mysteries himself, he ordered Kukuleyo to bring rain. The cattle were dying for want of water, and the crops were parched. The people would soon be dying too. But Kukuleyo answered that the moment was not propitious; that anything he did then would anger the izituta instead of propitiating them, and that when the time was right a sacrifice must be offered; not of cattle but of something quite beyond the ordinary. The chief jeered at this, but said the rain doctors might offer any sacrifice they chose.”
“‘Any sacrifice they chose?’” echoed Kukuleyo with emphasis.
“Yes. Any sacrifice they chose,” repeated the chief, angry and sneering. But if rain did not come within a certain time why then Kukuleyo and all those who helped him should suffer the fate which had always been that of impostors.
“Soon after this, clouds began to gather in the heavens, and to spread and fly like vultures when they scent death afar. In a roaring thunder-rush they broke, and the land, all parched and cracked and gaping, ran off the water in floods. There was rejoicing, and yet not, for it had all come too quickly and violently, washing away and drowning the cattle which it should have restored to life, and covering the cornlands with thick layers of unfruitful sand. The people murmured against Kukuleyo and his rainmakers, the chief waxed fierce, and threatened. But his answer was firm and quiet. ‘Lo, I have brought you rain.’
“Still, good followed, for when the worst had passed the worst, and the water was run off, the land was green again, and all things grew and thrived and fattened. But—then followed consternation on other grounds. The chief’s son, Bacaza, had disappeared.
“He had disappeared, suddenly and in mystery. No trace was left. He might have gone into empty air. At first Luluzela was angry, then alarmed. He sent for Kukuleyo.
“But the rain doctor’s face was like rock. What had he to do with the disappearance of people? he said. He was a rainmaker. He was not trained in unfolding mysteries. The chief of the Amazolo had better send for an isanusi if he wanted this one unfolded.
“And then, Amakosi, a discovery was made. Bacaza, the son of the chief was found—what was left of him that is. He was spread out beneath the falling water above a lonely pool, and was so arranged that the constant flow of water falling upon the back of his head and neck, slowly wore him to death. But it took days of awful agony such as no words could tell.”
“How do you know that, Jan Boom?” I said, moved to an uneasiness of horror by the vivid way in which the Xosa was telling his story, for his eyes rolled and he passed his hand quickly over his face to wipe off the beads of perspiration. Clearly the recollection was a real and a terrible one to him.