During our stay at Okamabuti, Tjopopa’s aged mother died. The women of the place, according to custom, howled most dismally for a whole day. Great numbers of cattle were killed or sacrificed on this occasion.
Tjopopa would spend whole days at our camp in the most absolute idleness and apathy, teasing us with begging for every thing he saw. Like all Damaras, he had a perfect mania for tobacco, and considered no degradation too deep provided he could obtain a few inches of the narcotic weed. He was of an easy and mild disposition, but excessively stingy. We stood greatly in need of live-stock, and took every opportunity to display our most tempting articles of barter in the hope of inducing him to purchase. Brass or gilt ornaments he almost spurned, but cast longing eyes on articles of iron or copper. At last he selected goods to the value of four oxen, with which he quietly walked off. On asking him for payment the following day, he smilingly replied, “Why, between us there must be no talk of buying and selling. You are going to stop here a long time, and you want plenty of food: this I will give you.”
Knowing the truth of the adage that “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” we should infinitely have preferred an immediate settlement to any vague promises. And the end justified our apprehensions. The old rogue took good care neither to pay his debt, nor make us any presents of cattle, of which we stood so much in need. Nay, he even went further. Under pretext of supplying our wants, he induced his people to contribute oxen and sheep, which he was mean enough to keep for his own use.
Our friend Tjopopa was rather a sensual man: he was supposed to have no less than twenty wives, two of whom I found, to my astonishment, were mother and daughter! I have since ascertained that this is by no means an unusual practice among this demoralized nation. Moreover, when a chief dies, his surviving wives are transferred to his brother or to his nearest relation.
It is in vain that poets and philanthropists endeavor to persuade us that savage nations who have had no previous intercourse with Europeans are living in a state of the most enviable happiness and purity, where ignorance is virtuous simplicity; poverty, frugality and temperance; and indolence, laudable contempt for wealth. One single day among such people will be sufficient to repudiate these idle notions.
CHAPTER XV.
Depart from Okamabuti.—Visit from a Lion.—Amulets.—Revisit Baboon Fountain.—Otjikoto; a wonderful Freak of Nature; Remarkable Cavern.—Natives unacquainted with the Art of Swimming.—Fish abundant in Otjikoto; frequented by immense Flocks of Doves.—Panic of the Ovambo on seeing Birds shot on the Wing.—Arrive at Omutjamatunda.—A greasy Welcome.—Ducks and Grouse numerous.—Author finds himself somewhat “overdone.”—“Salt-pans.”—All “look Blue.”—A second Paradise.—Hospitable Reception.—Vegetation.—People live in Patriarchal Style.—Population.—Enormous Hogs.—Arrive at the Residence of the redoubtable Nangoro.
In conversation with the Ovambo, we learned that Nangoro’s werft was distant at least a fortnight’s steady travel. We therefore felt anxious for the speedy return of the trading parties, in order that we might prosecute or journey; but they tarried longer than we had expected. By degrees, however, they reassembled at Tjopopa’s werft, having brought about two hundred head of cattle, the result of their trade.
On the 22d of May Chikor’onkombè, their leader, announced that every thing was in readiness for a start; and, as we ourselves had long been prepared, the caravan set out that very afternoon.