I have already mentioned these dances as being most wild and grotesque. First the husband and his friends began, while the others remained seated; then vice versa—each casting their weapons and shields about in the most reckless fashion, yet keeping time to the songs they sang, during which beer was drunk ad libitum by the lookers on.
These dances were interspersed by harangues from the elder women and the father of the bride, giving advice to the girl about to enter upon the new life, and to the husband to treat her well and be kind; then followed more dancing, when the last ceremony was performed.
The bridegroom having seated himself on the ground, the bride, accompanied by two companions, danced up to him, and began most unceremoniously to kick the dust into his face, load him with abuse, and disarrange his head-gear,—all of which, perhaps feeling how soon it would be his turn to act the master in reality, he received with the greatest good humour.
Another ox was now brought forward, and presented by the bridegroom to the girl. This was solemnly slaughtered; and this last ceremony, Tugela told me, rendered the marriage complete, as, up to that time, either party could have cried off had they felt disposed. All the rites, therefore, being over, the feasting commenced, on the conclusion of which I learned the husband was permitted to take his wife home.
Having no desire to be more than a spectator, and being much oppressed by the heat, I managed to return alone to my hut; for I saw Tugela, who had come to me, was anxious to join the wedding party. When there, I threw myself down on my mat, and soon fell fast asleep, and dreamed of home and the dear ones it contained.
I was just fancying I was once more among them, with my children about my knees, and darling. Katie sitting by my side, her loving face either smiling into mine, or looking up with pretty terror, as I recounted my adventures and perils, when I awoke. The sun was sinking, and I had been aroused by a shadow falling over the entrance to the hut. Starting up, I found it was Tugela, who had come with a message from the chief; and a most surprising one it was, as my readers may imagine.
Metilulu had sent his compliments to the Englishman, and desired to say that, as I now had a hut of my own, I must require some one to cook my meals and attend to my wants; therefore he was condescending enough to wish that I should take a wife.
I regarded Tugela in horror; then concealing the feeling, which it might be dangerous to display, I, as politely and respectfully as I could, declined the offer, saying I was extremely conscious of, and grateful for, the kind intentions of the great chief respecting my comfort, but that I could cook meals and attend to my wants myself; for, being already married in my own country, it was against the custom of white men, as Tugela must know, to marry again.
“Ah,” he responded, “but the English wife is far away; she no good—she no cook—she no work for you.”
“Yes she does; she cooks and works for my children, awaiting my return,” I answered, with a slight tremor in my voice.