Then the warriors were summoned by the drums to the square, and all the women and children gathered also, and old Soltali, the high priest and magic doctor, sang to them the new King’s good qualities, his birth, his troubles, his arrival at Katalambula’s village, the joy of the old King; how Kalulu became henceforth as his son to him; and how Katalambula had solemnly sworn that Kalulu was his choice for his successor to him, Soltali; what Kalulu had already done towards winning fame; ending with a solemn injunction to all that they should honour and serve Kalulu as they had served his father, so that the glory of the Watuta would become known to all nations, and their bravery be sung in all the corners of the earth.
N.B.—The author extracts such portions of the chant as he deems most interesting; but refuses positively to disfigure any more of his chapters with the uncouth Kituta polysyllables; and refuses, furthermore, to touch upon such ceremonies as have verse or chorus in them, however interesting they may be; for he finds his patience sadly exhausted with being compelled continually to render into barbarous rhyme words which grate on his sensitive ears:
The hero and lion chief, Loralamba,
King of Liemba and the streamy Wemba,
Lord of all the pasture lands of broad Usango
From West Urori to far Ukonongo,
Whom the unnumber’d tribes of Tuta and Sowa,
From hilly Lobisa to the lake-land Itawa,
Obey’d without scruple, him who in each campaign
Had slain his foes by hundreds on each hill and plain,
When dying, bequeathed his youngest son Mostana
The lands of Rori from Wiwa to Kantana,
While to his eldest son, our King, Katalambula,
He gave all wide Ututa, including Kinyala.
Our King died heirless, but in Rori’s Kwikuru
His brother Mostana was blest with Kalulu.
When, years ago, the Arabs fell ’pon Kantana,
Destroyed Kwikuru, and slew brave Mostana,
Young Kalulu came, and sought his father’s brother,
And in our King, his uncle, he found a father.
Ye recall the day when the King this orphan met;
How on his head our King’s infirmed hands were set;
How fondly he clasp’d the youth to his aged breast.
And, in endearing accents, bade him there find rest.
Ye know what delight this boy has since to him been,
And the King’s paternal love ye have also seen.
Oft have ye heard the King make mention of his name,
As one born to win a hero’s long-enduring fame.
’Tis needless to rehearse the deeds already done
By the stout arm of dead Mostana’s princely son;
They are known to all the Watuta tribes around,
And all our most ambitious youths his praises sound.
Morula, King of Ubena, fell by his hand,
So died the false and cruel chief of Bemba land.
The rebel Bongo, tribal chief on Chuma plain,
Fell by Kalulu’s spear, was by Kalulu slain.
When the Arab boy sank in the deep waters brown,
Gripped by the greedy crocodile, and sank deep down,
Who div’d to rescue him? Who but young Kalulu?
Who but the noblest, bravest son of Malungu!
The King swore to me, - the Mganga Soltali,
I, - who to him wedded my daughter Lamoli,
“None shall rule as King over Tuta’s Kwikuru
But brave Mostana’s son, my princely Kalulu!”
Now in council, your priests and elders do maintain
That o’er the Tuta tribes none may aspire to reign
Save brave Mostana’s son, and the choice of Malungu.
We now proclaim him King. Long live King Kalulu!
The warriors gave a great shout, the drums thundered, and all the warriors, the women, the children, the doctors, the councillors, and elders cried “Long live King Kalulu!”
When silence prevailed, Kalulu stood up before the people, and while the body swayed and the hands made gestures, according as his emotions governed him, the young King might, by a stretch of fancy, have been taken for a demi-god visiting a favoured people, teaching them the ways of the wise, and urging them to abandon savage habits. While all listened intently and admiringly, the elected chief spoke as follows:—
“Warriors of the Watuta, and ye elders and councillors! Ye have elected me King, because I, the son of Mostana, was beloved by Katalambula, and because he, being heirless, said to Soltali, ‘Since I have no son, Kalulu shall reign in my stead, when I am laid in the ground.’ Katalambula has gone to his fathers; he was old, he was weighed down with the burden of years, and loaded with honours; he is no more; the cruel earth covers him. The King is dead, but ye have chosen me to fill his place. I am young, I have not seen many moons, and I am not yet a full warrior. How, then, shall I fill Katalambula’s place? I will tell you. Katalambula was good; he loved the good and hated the wrong. So do I love the good and hate wrong. Katalambula was just. As Katalambula was just, so shall I be. When Katalambula was young, he was strong, he was brave, he was a lion in war. When I shall be a full warrior, I shall be strong, I shall be brave, I shall be a lion in war. Katalambula was wise. Ah! I am young, I am not wise; but I have Soltali, Katalambula’s friend, with me. I have the same elders, the councillors, and the magic doctors; their wisdom they will give me when trouble comes, and by their wisdom shall I be wise. There is peace in the land to-day; the Watuta are rich and prosperous. There is no sickness amongst the people, neither is there disease in the herds, or in the flocks. But the dark days may come, when a strong enemy shall come upon the land; yet not before Kalulu shall know it. Sickness may come; but who can prevent the bad spirits that visit us with baleful disease and thin our warriors, and make us poor in flocks and herds? Yet Kalulu shall be ready with his sacrifices and his potent medicine to soften the hearts of the bad spirits. It is well. The Watuta love Kalulu; they have made him their King. When the time comes, and necessity demands, Kalulu will die for the Watuta. I have spoken.”
Having finished his Oration, Kalulu retired from amongst the people, and went into his own hut, where he found Selim and Abdullah, Simba and Moto, conversing upon the events of the last two days.
The four rose to receive him courteously, and offered him a clean ox-hide to sit upon, and began to condole with him upon the loss of the King who loved him so much.
“Ah! yes, he was a dear, good man. My going out and coming in he watched like a lioness her whelps. He was proud of me, too; for he said I had the eyes of Loralamba, his father, and carried my head like him. He often said that I should make the Watuta a great nation, greater than it was in the time of Loralamba. He told me, a little before I went away after the elephants, how to behave myself when I should become King, and advised me to travel with a great many warriors all around Ututa, and see for myself how great my country is, and who pay the tribute and who do not; because, he said, when Kings forget their people their people forget who is their King, and set up for themselves. Then quarrels begin, and war follows, and tribes rise against one another, and a nation becomes weak. I mean to follow his advice; and when the next moon is full, begin the journey. Say, Selim, how wouldst thou like it?”
“Oh, Kalulu! thou art King now of all this great nation, thou art rich and powerful; there is none like unto thee in all the lands of Africa. Thousands of warriors are ready to do thy bidding; armies of great, strong, fierce men are under thy feet. If thou wilt but more that little tongue of thine, there is war everywhere; men will begin to hate one another and to lust for each other’s blood; Tillages will be destroyed, and whole tribes shall be known no more. Thou, who art but a boy like me, art dreadful in thy sudden power. But a few days ago, under the tree where the dead elephant lay, thou didst embrace me, thou didst say all manner of kind things unto me. Wilt thou do Selim a favour, Kalulu?”