An Englishwoman's twenty-five years in tropical Africa

by George Hawker

“In passing through Nzamba Tom had found about fifteen soldiers there, he had also seen some of our folks and told them to keep quiet and give the men that were owing. Just before dinner we heard the sound of rifle firing, and as we sat at table the boys told us three men had been shot by the soldiers. Tom and Mr. H. went over to see if it were true, and found one man, the coming chief, dead, and two others of the headmen badly shot, both of whom died that evening. The soldiers had gone to the town where they were staying, and the people were vowing vengeance on Nkil’a nkosi, the chief of that town.

“There is an old feud between these towns and his, and lately Nkil’a nkosi has attached himself to the Portuguese Resident and traders at Makela, and has been doing his best to get our people into trouble. Now, through their own foolishness, he has succeeded only too well.

“It seems that the soldiers tied up one of the headmen, and two others rushed to untie him, whereupon the soldiers fired and shot all three. One soldier was badly wounded. He is here now, and we are afraid he will not recover.

“Tom tried all he could to persuade the Nzamba people not to follow the soldiers, but they would not listen, and when they had finished attending to the sick men the fighting men were all on their way to the fight.

“In the meantime the people were rushing here, bringing all their poor belongings into the station as it was too late to go far. Our yard was soon full of women and children, goats, pigs, two cats, fowls, baskets of manioc and other food, and bunches of plantain which had been hastily cut down; while under our house were packed matetes containing cloth, beads, gunpowder, &c. They were far too frightened to go back to their houses that night, so we packed them in with the children as well as we could, only glad to be able to prove to them that we were sorry for their trouble and wanted to help them. The men came begging Tom and Mr. H. to go and fight on their side, and because they refused, cannot understand how we can be their friends. Night at last came, and very little sleep any one had, as you may imagine, and by dawn the next morning all the women and children, or nearly all, had left the town to go to their various families in other and more distant towns. The Nzamba men buried their dead the first thing without any noise and did not intend to fight again that day, but the other side came down the hill calling out to them, so they went, and returned in the evening very proud of themselves, saying they had conquered. But their triumph was very shortlived.

“Yesterday morning about eleven o’clock we saw from our window the Portuguese flag on the top of the hill, and very soon recognised the Resident just behind, accompanied by four soldiers and men carrying his hammock.

“He came straight to the station, would not take any refreshment, said he merely wanted to hear what we knew of the palaver, and to ask us to see to the soldier who had been wounded, and to ask me for some medicine for his wife.

“October 10th.—I had to leave off, but now I must try to go on with my tale. The Resident left us, saying that he was going to see the chiefs of the towns, but we could see from our windows that the towns were quite empty, and he simply passed through and returned whence he came. Directly after dinner Tom and Mr. Hooper rode off to see the sick soldier, and met him being brought here in a hammock. The Resident had told us that he had a thousand men from Makela with him, and they saw the valley was full of armed men. They had come from all the towns round; some to pay off old scores, others to be on the winning side, and to save themselves had joined Nkila. We gathered the children and workmen into our house and there stood and watched as they poured down the hill in hundreds and set fire to all the houses in Nzamba. It was hard for our three boys who came from there to see their town in flames and to know that their enemies had the best of it. ‘They could not have done it except with the white man’s soldiers,’ they said. At last they crossed the brook which separates the two towns, and began burning this one. The old man who is our nearest neighbour and the headman of this part stayed on the station, for his wife had gone with the other women. He has been a friend to us from the beginning, and it was very pathetic to see the poor old man watching with eager eyes as they came nearer and nearer to his house. They went into all the huts and took anything that was left. I am glad to say it was not much in this town, but when they came near the station they stopped burning, and just then a tremendous storm came on, the worst we have had this season.

“The two little towns which I generally visit on a Sunday afternoon were destroyed, and one on the other side nearest to us. Whether it was the storm that stopped them going further we do not know, but they did not return to burn any more, though some came down the next morning to finish looting. We sent up to ask for some help with the sick man, and two soldiers came to stay with their wounded comrade. Soon after that the white sergeant arrived with a message asking Tom to call the chiefs of Kibokolo together. We were very glad to be able to say with truth that we did not know where they were, for it was only to get them into a trap.

“Yesterday morning the poor soldier died; his wounds had been left too long for any but skilled help to avail. They came and carried him away for burial, and that is the last we have seen of them. We hear that the Resident has gone back to meet the delimitation party at Makela, but the soldiers are left at Kimalomba (Nkila’s town), and they are vowing vengeance against these people, so we are afraid we have not seen the end yet.