The appointed day arrived. Mashoku’s emissaries were sent to ascertain from which of the chieftains’ enclosures a victim might most readily be procured, but one by one they returned and reported that not a child was to be found. At last, however, one of the men brought word that he had seen a solitary boy playing outside his father’s fence. Apprised of this, the king immediately sent directions to the father to go out at once and procure some grass and reeds for a hut that he was building, and then charged Mashoku to lose no time. As soon as he had satisfied himself that the man had left his home, Mashoku sent his messenger to fetch the child to the royal courtyard, where, although the place was full of people, a perfect silence prevailed. The king was in a terribly bad temper, and no one dared to breathe a word. The executioner’s assistant made his way to the abode of the chief, and was greeted by the mistress of the house with a friendly “rumela;” he then proceeded to tell her that the kosana, her husband, was just setting out in his canoe, and that he had sent him to say he wished his little son to go with him. The mother acquiesced, and the boy was delighted to accompany the man, who of course took him off to the royal courtyard, where a sign from Mashoku announced their arrival to the moody king. Sepopo started to his feet, and accompanied by his band, made his way towards the river, the child being led behind him. Bewildered as the poor little victim was, he was somewhat reassured by the direction they were taking; but all at once he was alarmed at the shrieks of a chieftain’s wife, whose house they were passing, and who, knowing the purpose on which they were bent, cried out in horror.
At the river the whole party, numbering nearly seventy, embarked and crossed to the opposite side. The myrimbas were left behind, but the large drums were taken over. Shortly after landing the king seated himself on a little stool; he made the executioner, a few of his own personal attendants, and the members of his secret council form an inner circle; beyond them he placed the drummers; and, outside these, he ordered the rest of the company to group themselves, so as to conceal from the town the deed that was being perpetrated. The poor boy by this time had almost fainted from fear; but when, at a nod from the king, the executioners seized him, he began to scream aloud with terror. The drummers were ordered to play with all their might, so that the piteous shrieks should not be heard; several assistants were then summoned to hold the child, so that resistance was impossible, and the two doctors set themselves deliberately to work to amputate finger after finger, and toe after toe.
No drumming could drown the heart-rending cries of the sufferer. The people of Sesheke could hear him, in the midst of his torture, calling out, “Ra, ra, kame, ra, ra!” (Father, O my father!) and “umu umu bulaya” (they are killing me!); but though a large crowd was thus made aware of what was going on, no one dared to raise a hand to rescue the miserable sufferer.
When the doctors had finished their cruel operation, the hapless boy was strangled, and knocked on the head with a kiri. The whole party then returned to their boats, which were pushed off into midstream, where, as if by accident, they were formed into a circle; but, in reality, with the design of concealing the corpse as it was dropped into the water. Meanwhile the weeping mother had made her way down to the bank, and regardless alike of the crocodiles and of the displeasure of the tyrant, waded into the stream and demanded her son—her darling Mushemani. But to Sepopo a mother’s grief was nothing; he landed quite unconcerned, and proceeded with his myrmidons to enjoy his pots of butshuala, while the doctors stored away the dismembered toes and fingers in a war-drum.
This narrative I give as related to me in its general outline on my second return to Sesheke by two of the resident chiefs, the details being filled in by Blockley, whose quarters were just opposite to the scene of the murder.
Before crossing the Zambesi I had been told about the industrial skill of Sepopo’s people, and had been given to understand that amongst the southern tribes the Mashonas particularly excelled. Prevented as I was from visiting the country, I had no opportunity of forming an opinion that is conclusive; but, judging from various specimens that I saw, I am inclined to believe that there are some of the Marutse tribes, that in certain branches of industry surpass even the Mashonas.
Amongst cooking-utensils, those that are made of clay form an important class. Many of them are in the shape of vases, some ornamented round the neck with patterns of a lighter or a darker colour, others polished so that they seemed to be entirely covered with glaze; the lower parts were never ornamented, nor did I see any with handles. The clay vessels that are used as corn-bins are immensely large, and most frequently urn-shaped; they are made more roughly than the cooking-vessels, and always of unbaked clay; they are shut in at the top by a lid made also of clay, and in front, close to the ground, they have a semi-circular opening about as wide as one’s hand, protected by an interior slide which may be raised and lowered by means of horizontal handles; occasionally they are made so large that it requires as many as sixteen men to lift them, and, when moved, they are carried on poles. For the most part clay utensils are manufactured by women, and are used in the preparation of kaffir-corn beer, for holding water and milk, and for ordinary culinary purposes.
Utensils of wood are most commonly made by men, particularly by the men of the Mabundas; they are burnt all over inside with red-hot irons, a process which is so skilfully performed that it gives them the appearance of ebony; many of them are ornamented with raised carvings, running in symmetrical patterns round the edge and neck; and some of them have perforated bosses, which serve the purpose of handles. All of them are provided with carved lids.
The variety of wooden vessels is as large as that of the earthenware, and their shapes quite as diversified. The dishes used for minced meats are good specimens of their kind, and exhibit some of the best carving of the Mabundas. As a general rule wooden pots are either conical or cylindrical in shape, rounded inside at the bottom, and are used for holding meal, beans, small fruits, and beer. As an intermediate production between the pots and the dishes, there are bowls with lips or spouts.
Wooden dishes are either oval or round, those to which I have just alluded are oval, and are hollowed into the form of a boat, and are repeatedly to be seen with a horizontal rim of fretwork; they are perfectly black, and without handles. Except in the houses of the upper classes they are rarely to be met with, and the most elaborately worked of any that I saw belonged to the king; but although all the oval dishes are large, I noticed a good many amongst the Matabele that were double or treble the size of any of Sepopo’s; all of them had handles at the end, and they were usually kept for serving heavy joints to a number of guests. Not unfrequently they are ornamented with a kind of arabesque carving, raised about half an inch above the surface, a mode of decorating their work in which I believe that the Mashonas carry off the palm.