The kierie is a favorite weapon with the Damaras. They handle it with much adroitness, and kill birds and small quadrupeds with surprising dexterity. Most savage tribes in Southern Africa use this instrument with great advantage and effect. Thus, in speaking of the Matabili, Harris says, “They rarely miss a partridge or a Guinea-fowl on the wing.” In an experienced hand, the kierie becomes a most dangerous and effective weapon, as a single well-directed blow is sufficient to lay low the strongest man.
The bow and arrow, on the other hand, though a constant companion, is not, with the Damaras, as effective as it ought to be. They never attain perfection in archery. At ten or a dozen yards they will shoot tolerably well, but beyond that distance they are wretched marksmen.
The Damaras are divided into two large tribes, the Ovaherero and the Ovapantiereu, of which the former lives nearest to the sea; still, with the exception of a slight difference in the language, they appear to be one and the same people. They may again be divided into rich and poor Damaras,[6] or those who subsist on the produce of their herds, and those who have no cattle, or at least very few, and who live chiefly by the chase, and what wild fruit and roots they can pick up abroad. These are called Ovatjimba, and are looked upon with the utmost contempt by the prosperous classes, who reduce them to a state of slavery, and do not even scruple to take their lives.
But, as the Damaras are little known to Europeans, much is to be said of them, and they will require a chapter to themselves. I shall, therefore, reserve a more detailed account of their peculiarities, customs, manners, &c., to a later period, when I became better acquainted with them and their country.
In consequence of an unusually severe drought this year, most of the rain-pools in the neighborhood of Richterfeldt were dried up; but as spring-water was still to be found at that place, a great number of wild animals nightly congregated there. As usual under such circumstances, the game was followed by troops of lions, who were a constant annoyance to us. To guard against their attacks, we had on our first arrival made a strong fence or inclosure round the camp, but even then we did not feel very secure.
One evening these beasts were more than usually troublesome. The sun had hardly sunk below the horizon when they began their terror-striking music, and kept it up without intermission till a late hour, when all became silent. Believing that they had taken themselves off, I sent the men who had been watching to sleep. I was, however, deceived; for two hours had hardly elapsed when within a short distance of our encampment, there arose a most horrible roaring, intermingled with the rushing to and fro, the kicking, plunging, and neighing of a troop of zebras, which instantly brought every man to his feet, and the consternation and confusion became indescribable. Some of them rushed about like maniacs, lamenting most piteously that they ever left the Cape. Others convulsively grasped their blankets in their arms, and cried like children; while a few stood motionless, with fear and anguish depicted in their countenances. It was in vain that I tried to calm their agitation. They seemed fully convinced that their last hour had come, and that they should perish miserably by the fangs of wild beasts.
On going just outside the inclosure, I could distinctly see the glimmering of lions’ eyes, as our small, well-kept bivouac-fire fell full upon them. I sent a ball or two after the intruders, but, as it appeared afterward, without effect.
The next morning we found that the zebras had escaped unscathed, and we attributed the unusual anger and ferocity of their pursuers to the disappointment they had experienced in losing their favorite prey.
We had only been a short time at Richterfeldt when three of our mules, and the remaining horse, were seized with a mortal disease, and in the course of a few hours they all died. Though the loss of the animals was great to us, their death was a god-send to the poor Damaras, who devoured the carcasses bodily, and without the least disagreeable result.
The distemper in question is usually known by the vague name of “paarde-sikte” (the horse-sickness); and, as the cause is totally unknown, no remedy has yet been found efficient to stop it. Throughout Great Namaqua-land it is particularly fatal. Some people attribute this singular disease to poisonous herbs, of which the animals have inadvertently partaken; others, to the dew; and others, again, to the eating the young grass;[7] but all these suppositions are highly improbable, for reasons which it would be unnecessary to enter into here.