The northern Namaquas are divided into numerous tribes, each under petty chiefs. The principal of these are Jonker Afrikaner, Cornelius, Amral, Zwartbooi, Jan Boois, William Fransman, Paul Goliath, David Christian, and Bondel Zwartz.
The Namaquas dwell in small round huts, made on the same principle as those of the Damaras, and covered with mats composed of rushes, which are prepared in the following manner: A quantity of the inner bark of the mimosa is collected and dried. When wanted for immediate use, the required portion is put into hot water and softened. Each member of the family then fills his mouth with as much of the fibre as it can hold, and chews it until it becomes quite pliable, when it is at once converted into strings by the rude process of twisting it on the naked leg. A large quantity is in this manner manufactured in an incredibly short time. The rushes are then cut to the desired length, and laid out on the ground singly, and in a row, when holes are made, at intervals of about two inches, through each rush, and the string in question passed through them by means of a bone or thorn needle. The ends of the rushes, however, are secured more strongly by back-stitches. These mats serve a double purpose. In warm weather they are open and airy, while, being of a porous texture, a shower closes them, and after a while they become proof against the most deluging rains.
When they remove their habitations, these mattings and the frame-work of the hut, which consists of semicircular boughs, are packed on oxen. Their household utensils, such as calabashes, milk-pails, pots, &c., are suspended to the boughs, and in the midst of all this confusion is often seated the good dame of the house, surrounded by her promising offspring.
It has been asserted by travelers and others that the Namaquas have not the slightest idea of a Superior Being, or of a life hereafter. Yet they believe in Heitjeebib, or Heitjekobib, whom they consider to have the power to grant or withhold them success and prosperity. But whether Heitjeebib is a deity, a goblin, or merely a deified ancestor, I shall not presume to say. At all events, they affirm he exists in the graves of all deceased people; and whenever a Hottentot passes a burial-place, he invariably throws a stone, a bush, or other token of offering and affection on the tomb, pronouncing the name of Heitjeebib, and invoking his blessing and protection in his undertakings. From being thus constantly added to, these heaps often attain a great size. They are found throughout the country (I have observed them even in Damara-land), and frequently in situations perfectly “stoneless,” from which may be inferred that the natives carry the materials a long distance. Captain Harris mentions having seen similar heaps among the Matabili, but was unable to account for their presence. The Hottentots have an indistinct notion that they came from an easterly direction, and it is possible that the stone tumuli found by the traveler may have something to do with this tradition.
The natives in these parts have a strange tale of a rock in which the tracks of all the different animals indigenous to the country are distinctly visible; moreover, that man and beast lived here together in great amity; but one day, from some unknown cause, their Deity appeared unexpectedly and dispersed them. I never had the good fortune to obtain a sight of this marvelous rock. Mr. Moffat, who makes mention of a similar story prevailing among the Bechuanas, was equally unsuccessful. “Once I heard a man of influence,” says the reverend gentleman, “telling his story on the subject. I, of course, could not say that I believed the wondrous tale, but very mildly hinted that he might be misinformed, on which he swore, by his ancestors and his king, that he had visited the spot, and paid a tax to see the wonder; and that, consequently, his testimony was indubitable.”
The Namaquas have the following singular superstition with regard to the hare, which no adult is allowed to eat. The legend involves the sublime Christian doctrine of immortality.
Once upon a time the moon called the hare, and commanded him to convey to man the following message: “As I die and am born again,[64] so you shall die and be again alive.” The hare hastened to obey; but instead of saying, “As I die and am born again,” he said, “As I die and am not born again.” On his return, the moon inquired what words he had conveyed to mankind; and on being informed, the luminary exclaimed, “What! have you said to man, ‘As I die and am not born again, so you shall die and not be again alive!’” And with this he hurled a stick at the hare with such force as to split open his lips, which is the cause of the peculiar formation of this animal’s mouth. The hare quickly betook himself to flight, and is said to be flying to the present day. The old Namaquas used to say, “We are still enraged with the hare, because he has brought such a bad message, and we will not eat him.”
On the occasion of a youth coming of age, or, rather, when becoming a “man,” there is great rejoicing. From that day forward he is forbidden to eat the hare, or even to come in contact with the fire where this animal has been prepared. Should he transgress this command, he is not unfrequently banished from his werft, though, on paying a fine, he may again be admitted to the community. He is, moreover, no longer permitted to “suck the goats.”[65]
The Namaquas, like almost all nations who are sunk in barbarism, have great faith in sorcery, and male and female witch-doctors equally play conspicuous parts. These impostors are supposed to have the power to procure rain, to restore the sick to health, to discover the cause of a person’s death, and to perform other miracles. They are crafty creatures, and know how to take advantage of the popular ignorance. Even civilized men have been deceived by their wiles. Their principal stipulation before they exercise any of their arts is to have some animal slaughtered, which they prescribe according to their fancy and to the wealth of their patients. Mr. Moffat tells us that a stout ox might be a cure for a slight cold in a chieftain, while a kid would be a remedy for a fever among the poor, from whom there could be no chance of obtaining any thing greater.
The Namaqua witch-doctor is called kaiaob, or kaiaobs if a woman. On being called to the sick-bed, after having examined the patient, he or she generally declares that the ailment is caused by a great snake (toros) having fired an arrow into the stomach. The sorcerer operates by feeling this part of the body, and by a good squeezing endeavors to coax the illness away. Another approved plan is to make a small incision on the body about the place where the cause of the disease is supposed to lurk, and to suck it out. The production of a snake, a frog, an insect, or the like, is frequently the result. Eyebrecht solemnly declared that he once was an eye-witness to such an operation on a woman at Jonker’s place. When the witch-doctor arrived, a sheep was killed, and the sinews of the back were cut out and rolled up into a small ball, which the patient was made to swallow, the remainder of the animal, of course, being appropriated to the sorcerer’s own stomach. A few days afterward the wizard returned, and cut some small holes in the abdomen of the patient, on which a small snake escaped, then a lizard, numerous other animals following.