“Captain Jonker! when I last saw you, I shook hands with you: it grieves me that I can not do so to-day; the cause you must be aware of.” I then proceeded boldly to accuse him of his late depredations in Damara-land, to which both he and the rest of the audience listened in the most profound silence.
Having finished my harangue, the cunning chief requested to be allowed to speak a few words in his defense, which, of course, was granted. He then entered into a very long and cleverly concocted story of the great losses he had sustained at the hands of the Damaras, and that what he had now done was solely in self-defense, or as indemnification for robberies committed on himself. Whatever truth there might have been in his assertion as to preceding outrages, his story on the present occasion was one chain of falsehood, and this I clearly proved to him. At last, finding no further excuse, and perceiving that I knew all about his proceedings, he confessed that, in passing through the country, his men had certainly “taken a few head of cattle, but,” added he, “we left plenty after us.” The manner in which he thus attempted to get out of the scrape was so ridiculous that I could not help smiling. After a little more parley, the conference broke up.
The Namaquas, however much they may be averse to hear the truth, respect the man who speaks his mind boldly. For this very reason, I was never denied a favor or request, if in their power to grant it. The case was similar with Mr. Hahn, who acted on the same principle as myself.
In my dealings with the natives, and more especially with the Namaquas, I made it a rule to treat them civilly, and even deferentially, but I never mixed very freely with them. The moment a person becomes too familiar, they lose all respect for him. The only check he has on their avarice, and safeguard against their treachery, is to exert, as far as possible, a certain moral influence over their minds. This he effects to a certain extent by showing himself superior to their faults and vices. It might be convenient enough to imitate them in some respects, but, on the whole, it will prove injurious and detrimental to the traveler’s interest.
After a short stay at Eikhams, I bade adieu to Jonker, and set off on my return to Rehoboth.
One morning, when crossing a periodical stream, I observed in its sandy bed the tracks of an immense serpent, in size, as it would seem, not much inferior to the boa constrictor. I had previously heard that such monsters inhabited this part of Africa,[55] but the natives declared they were poisonous (not characteristic of this family of reptiles), and, consequently, feared them greatly. The Damaras call the serpent in question the Ondara, and said that its chief food was the rock-rabbit (hyrax capensis). Mr. Hahn had an opportunity of seeing one of these huge creatures, which had been accidentally killed by the people at Rehoboth. It measured eighteen feet in length.[56]
I was told a very striking story of the Ondara, but I am not at all prepared to vouch for its truth.
Two Hill-Damaras had, it seems, gone in search of honey, and having found a bees’ nest in the cleft of a rock, one of them made his way through the confined aperture that led to it for the purpose of possessing himself of the honey-comb. But he had not long been thus engaged when he discovered a narrow circular passage leading apparently right through the nest. He told this to his comrade on the outside who suggested that it was probably caused by a serpent. However, seeing nothing to indicate the reptile’s presence, he resumed his labor, and, having secured the honey-comb, was about to withdraw from the aperture, when, to his horror, he saw a huge ondara making toward him. The reptile passed the poor fellow in the first instance, but, suddenly turning round, it plunged its murderous fangs into the man’s body. The poison was of so virulent a nature as to cause almost instantaneous death. The survivor, witnessing the fate of his friend, fled precipitately. On his way home, however, and when his agitation had subsided, he determined to revenge himself on the reptile, and early the following day he returned to put his plan into execution.
Having seen the serpent leave the aperture in question, he slipped unperceived into it, and quietly awaited the reptile’s return. As soon as he observed it approaching, he coolly placed his open hand across the narrowest part of the passage, and, just as the monster’s eyes glared within, he grasped it by the throat, and, by striking its head to and fro against the rocks on either side, soon succeeded in destroying it.
Many Namaquas believe that the ondara possesses certain medicinal virtues; therefore, when they succeed in killing the reptile, its flesh is carefully preserved. If a person falls sick, a portion is either applied externally in the form of an unction, or given to the patient in a decoction.