Through this war expedition I became a witness of many peculiar ceremonies attendant thereupon. First, I learned that by some means Metilulu had procured a portion of a hide-belt belonging to the other chief, which, having been scraped into a medicine prepared by the witch-doctor, he had drank, believing by that he would literally swallow up his enemy from his path. After this the warriors’ turn came. All being assembled, an ox was slaughtered by the witch-doctor, who, having cut off one of its legs, chopped it in pieces, sprinkled them with a magic powder, then distributed the morsels to the warriors, who devoured them with the greatest avidity. That ended, the whole animal was cooked for them to feast upon.
This concluded that day’s ceremony. On the next the witch-doctor administered a medicine which acted as an emetic; then, as a purification, to which I have previously referred, Metilulu, approaching, sprinkled those appointed to fight with water.
Strange as it may appear, if these rites were not performed the Kaffir’s heart would fail him in battle, not through want of courage, but merely through superstition.
The present expedition was under the command of a n’genana, or captain, whose costume, like those of the other warriors, was very peculiar. Each one had seemed to adopt his own idea of a strange head-dress, formed of tall and short feathers; while long goats’ hair hung flowing down their backs, over their chests, and from the knee-joints more than half-way down the calf.
They drove with them several head of cattle, which I naturally considered to belong to the commissariat department, but learned they were taken for a far different purpose. On attacking an enemy’s kraal, a Kaffir’s first thought is to seize the cattle—his dearly-beloved cows. These, however, prove rather difficult to manage in a hasty retreat; but the strangers will speedily follow if headed by oxen who know the way, for in Caffraria, it seems, these animals are endowed with the same instinct as dogs possess in our country. Provisions, however, were sent with them, but to my idea, knowing the capacity of the Kaffir appetite, scarcely sufficient for half the time they said the expedition would take. Tugela told me that this was owing to a desire not to encumber the army more than possible; for which same reason the soldiers, save feathers and ornaments to show their rank, wore little clothing,—indeed, even in the Kaffir acceptation of the word, I might say none—not even taking with them the kaross, but sleeping without the least covering in the open air.
I need hardly state that, as cunning, cruelty, and bloodshed are the leading points of warfare in Caffraria, I did not join this expedition. No doubt I should have been refused permission had I asked it. So, having watched the warriors off, I returned to the kraal to pass the time in the ordinary mode—attending to my cows and corn and tobacco patches, for so had my wealth increased, as I supposed, correctly as it proved, that little of much interest would transpire during the war party’s absence.
It happened, as I passed to my own hut, and casually looked in at several others—for I had now become on familiar terms with most of the families—that, at the principal warrior’s dwelling, I found the wives hanging their husband’s sleeping-mat, pillow, and apron upon a certain part of the wall. I should not have noticed this had it occurred merely once; but as I saw it repeated by many, repaired to Zenuta—a common practice of mine—to ask if there were any reason in what I had seen.
“Oh yes!” she replied, “the wives hang them up so when their husbands are absent. They visit them every morning to see if they cast a shadow, for while they do she knows her husband is safe; but,” she added, with a sudden lowering of her tone and manner, “if they do not, she feels he is dead—dead! and mourns him as if his companions had really brought the news. Oh!” she continued, with a deep sigh, “if you, Gabbrth,”—her mode of pronunciation—“if you had been a warrior, and had gone with the others, I should have done the same.”
I could not but be touched by this manifestation of womanly feeling, and, with a pressure of the hand and a smile, tried to show my gratitude.
Several days elapsed before anything was heard of the war party, and nothing of any consequence took place at the kraal till it was proposed that a few of us should make a party to hunt the koodoos. This animal is much admired owing to its splendid spiral horns, while its flesh—a rarity with South African animals—is both tender and of a good flavour.