While speaking upon this subject, I may as well say a few words upon the ordinary rite of burial; for it must be remembered that I am here recounting the death and interment of a person of rank, and in that case the show ceremonies are as different in Caffraria as in our own land, where the plain hearse and mourning coach tell of a poor person’s demise, and waving feathers, velvet trappings, a long string of carriages, men with gilt-tipped rods, announce that of a rich man, who, even in death, cannot surrender the pomp and vanities of this world, but would, as it were, strive to prove the falsity of the saying, “In death all are equal.” But to return to the Kaffirs. On the death of a chief, the people mourn and fast, as above described, till the dead man is buried in the isibaya, where only the head men are permitted to be interred, and where women are never permitted to enter, dead or alive. The commoners are buried in a hole outside the kraal. A hole too, is the proper word to use, for it is small and deep, the body not lying horizontally, but in a sitting position, with the knees close up to the chin. By its side are buried the weapons it used in life, the points being bent to render them useless; while if it be a chief, and rich, oxen are at times killed at the grave.
The next morning all turned out to attend the funeral, I, of course, making one of the number, though I did not mingle with the chief mourners.
A very large hole had been made—about seven feet square,—which caused me to think, if it were for Anzutu, she must have far exceeded her husband in bulk; but my horror was again excited when I found that, as Metilulu desired to show every possible honour to his departed wife, he had issued an order that half-a-dozen young girls were to be buried alive with her.
I had often heard of the custom of immolating victims at the grave of a chief in savage countries, and I had read the adventures of that Marco Polo of Eastern romance, Sinbad, wherein he had, according to the custom of the country, been buried with his dead wife; but I had never known till now that the terrible rite of interring the living with the dead existed in Caffraria.
As I have, I believe, previously stated, female beauty in that part of the world where I then was is anything but prepossessing to European eyes; yet I felt my flesh creep, and my pulses throb with impotent rage, as any Englishman’s would, at the sight of these young girls being, without the least resistance, buried alive. The thought was too horrible, and, starting up, I determined to expostulate with Metilulu, regardless of the consequences, upon the performance of such a barbarous rite.
Hastening on, I came across Tugela, to whom, as I should require his assistance, I naturally confided my intention. He looked at me first in surprise; then most earnestly persuaded me, for my own safety, to refrain from such an absurd proceeding, affirming that, whatever I might say, Metilulu, in his present state of grief, would not listen, but, on the contrary, would very likely have me executed too for trying to insult the memory of his wife. Despite these assertions, I was yet persisting in my plan, when Tugela put a stop to it entirely by saying that if I was resolved, so was he not to interpret correctly a sentence of my request.
Therefore I had to give up my attempt, consoling myself with the belief—which was no doubt correct—that my words would have had little if any effect upon the despotic ruler. Meanwhile the rites went on, the awful burial took place, a special guard was placed over the spot to watch there for one year, and the mourners returned to the kraal, where another ceremony consequent upon a death took place, which again reminded me of the Jewish laws regarding cleansing and purification.
The prophets, or doctors, of the kraal, on the people’s return, sent them to bathe in an adjacent stream, and afterwards administered medicine to each, while those who had actually touched the body had to undergo this purification twice before they could resume their usual every-day’s labour; for a Kaffir has a great repugnance to touch a corpse. It is only their love which will make them do so at all, and cases are frequent, where the affection has not been great, that the relations of the dying person, not waiting for their demise, have cast them into a river, to save the necessity of handling the dead body a few hours later.
Oxen were now killed and prepared for the funereal feast, during the preparation of which the company unceasingly bewailed the loss of the departed; then, having heartily partaken of the meal, all repaired to their different kraals.
I was no little pleased to see an end of it, and, when all at last seemed quiet, I set out for a saunter, hoping to come across Tugela. This I soon did, and, after a little while, put to him the question which my curiosity—that feeling which, since the time of Mrs Bluebeard, has so often led both men and women into danger—urged me to. This was, why Metilulu had taken my refusal so indifferently, never, indeed, having noticed it.