Ever since we had entered the Maytengue valley, Z. had been in a perpetual fidget. Whether we were on the move or at rest his uneasiness continued just the same; he was always on the look-out, and there seemed no end to his fancies. He had never been a favourite with any of our party, and Westbeech openly avowed his disapproval of all his business transactions; finding, therefore, that there was no one on the road who cared for his society, he would try and seek refuge with me, confined as I was to my waggon. But even here his nervousness did not desert him: as he sat beside me he would continually ask whether I did not hear a noise in the woods, or had not seen some one disappearing in the bushes. At night, too, when we were all round the camp-fire I generally found that he took his place at my side, although he was never still long together, but kept creeping away to peer into the darkness. I remonstrated with him for his strange behaviour, without succeeding for a long time in getting anything out of him; after a while, however, he told me that on a previous visit, as he and his servants were returning single file from an elephant-hunt, a gun had accidentally gone off and killed one of Menon’s people, and he now feared that he might be recognized and accused of the deed. Understanding that we were here encamping close to Menon’s residence, his alarm became more intense than ever, and he kept most cautiously in the rear of the waggons, not suffering his face to be seen until the chief’s visit was over.
Menon was a gaunt-looking man of about fifty years of age, and an arrant hypocrite. All his attendants had countenances as ignoble as his own. It is in order that the tribe may be distinguished from their brethren north of the Zambesi that I have designated them as Menon’s Makalakas. Together with their southern compatriots they were subjugated by the Matabele Zulus in 1837. Up to that time they had been peaceful agriculturists and cattle-breeders; but now they do very little in the way of rural pursuits, and have become the most notorious thieves and the greatest rascals in South Africa, a change entirely to be attributed to the demoralizing and vicious influence of their oppressors.
The six attendants of the chief squatted round our fire, and Menon, wrapped in a mangy mantle of wild cats’ skins, remained standing. He scanned every one so carefully, that it was quite apparent he was looking for some one in particular, and an expression of dissatisfaction rested on his face as he closed his scrutiny. He spoke of the death of his servant, saying that he had heard all about the affair from a man who had been in company with the victim, adding that he had been assured by one of his spies that the perpetrator of the deed was a white man, who had joined our party at the Nata river. Disappointed at not identifying the individual he wanted, Menon began to vent his annoyance by demanding toll from Walsh and myself, under the pretext that we had entered his territory for the first time. Westbeech, who was the only one among us who understood the Makalaka dialect, told us to be quiet and to take no notice of the chief, and then proceeded to give him such a lecture on the duty of hospitality, that he very soon altered his tone, and promised that he would send us a goat, adding that he was sorry that he was unable to give us a cow, as the Matabele had stolen all his cattle. We acknowledged his politeness by making him a present of powder and shot, which he accepted as graciously as he could.
After he was gone, one of his attendants, a mean-looking creature, lingered behind with our servants near the fire; the behaviour of the fellow was peculiar, and I kept my eye on him. He was pretending to warm himself, but it was easy to see that he was looking behind the waggons. All at once he stirred the fire into a blaze. He had caught sight of Z., who, not observing that a stranger was amongst our party, had returned from his retreat in the rear. He inquired nervously of me whether Menon had asked any questions about him, and when I replied that he had alluded to the death of the Makalaka, he jumped up and swore that Menon was a great liar. At this moment Menon’s man, who most probably had heard what passed, got up and walked quietly away.
“Look,” I said to Z., “that fellow is one of Menon’s spies!”
Z. clenched his fist and made a movement as if he would run after him, but his courage failed him, and he remained where he was.
When we retired at night to our waggons, it was manifest that Z. was still very uneasy, and by the glances he threw in all directions he showed that he was apprehensive of some sudden attack.
Of the men who came with Menon, two were armed with assegais, and four carried kiris. Some of the Makalakas have muskets.
The Makalaka women wear short leather petticoats, covered with white and violet beads; they are fairly expert in various kinds of handicraft, but the specimens I saw were on the whole inferior to the work of the Bechuanas.
It appeared to me that the Maytengue valley has all the elements of a future El Dorado. There is excellent pasturage on the wooded downs, and for the naturalist it is a region full of delight; the great drawback to its being properly explored is the unsatisfactory character of the natives.