My Kalulu, Prince, King and Slave: A Story of Central Africa

by Henry M. Stanley

While the author has been endeavouring to portray Kalulu, that the reader may become acquainted with his excellence, the youthful hero had hastened to bring Lamoli to her husband; and he now appeared on the threshold of the door with his cousin, who at once pleased Moto as much as the King expected she would. We will say this, however, in passing, that though she was not by any means the loveliest of her sex, she was neither ugly, toothless, nor old; nor was she young, pretty, or one calculated to charm our fastidious tastes. But Moto did not refuse her; on the contrary, he thought it a high honour to many the daughter of a king, and became lavish in his praise, with which Lamoli was not at all displeased.

Having performed this marriage according to the customs of the Watuta, Kalulu remembered that he had still another marriage on his hand, and at once asked Simba what kind of a wife he fancied. Simba was not at all displeased with the idea of another wife, though he and Moto had each a wife at Zanzibar, who had borne them children; and he at once replied that Kalulu might choose for him. After an absence of only a few minutes, Kalulu returned with a young woman who might have drawn crowds in London and New York, as the “Great African Giantess.”

As he saw the gigantic couple together, Kalulu clapped his hands in high glee, and danced about them as if he were about to receive a magnificent gift, and laughed as he burst into a mock rhapsody.

“Lo, Kalulu has seen strange things! he has seen two trees drawn together from a great distance! he has seen them walk together arm-in-arm!! Behold how the trees, the sycamore and the mtambu, the great baobab, and the mbiti, how they nod their heads, and are pleased!! For they rejoice that two great trees are married, and a forest of young trees will soon sprout up. As they move, the ground shakes and the huts reel. Verily this is a great day; both the ground and the huts have been guzzling pombe—they are drunk, rejoicing over the marriages Kalulu, the future King of the Watuta, has performed!

“Lamoli, my sweet cousin, daughter of Katalambula—of Katalambula the great King—was sorrowing for a husband. She was thirsting, like a pool in the middle of the plain in a long summer. She, the flower of Katalambula’s household, was sick for a husband. But the day came—ah, happy day! A man from afar—from the island in the sea—he came, he saw me, I knew him. He was my friend; and in him Katalambula—Katalambula the great King—found a husband for his daughter—a mate for Lamoli.

“Ah, Lamoli! Lamoli! Lamoli! weep no more; but laugh until thy mouth reaches from ear to ear, and I, Kalulu, thy cousin, can see the joy welling from thy throat, like living water springing from a rock! Laugh, Lamoli, sweet Lamoli! so that the unmarried women of all Ututa may hear and envy thee; so they may rend their bosoms with rage, or crush themselves to death with the over-weight of their ornaments. Laugh, Lamoli, sweet Lamoli! until every foot of man and woman moves to the sound of thy happy laughter! And thou, tall woman of Ututa! do thou laugh and sing, until all the tall trees of Ututa will become jealous of thee! we then may have rain. And thou, Simba, tall man from afar, well named the Lion! roar for joy, and thou wilt hear the wild lions of the forest roar in concert with thee, and each will be roused to fury, roaring for their loving mates. But enough; be happy, and raise warriors for your tribes. Kalulu is not a singer; he is a young warrior, who is learning how to throw the spear and shoot with the bow. The singers are coming with drums to do you honour, for such are the King’s commands.”

While Kalulu had been thus employing himself, a company of drummers, eight in number, two tumblers,—or, as we should call them, two mountebanks,—and fifty couples of young men and women had formed themselves in a circle; and as Kalulu ceased speaking, the Magic Doctor, or Mganga, as the natives called him, raised his voice and sang the marriage song, while he danced in an ecstatic manner as he sang. I should also say, before giving the song, that the smallest drums only accompanied his voice, while the great drums thundered together when the chorus was given by the dancers. The words were, as near as they can be translated:

We sing the happy marriage song,
We sound the drum, and beat the gong
In honour of Lamoli!
She is the daughter of a king,
Yet she spent her days in weeping,
Being left alone and sorrowing.
Poor sorrowing Lamoli!
Chorus.
Oh, Lamoli!
Poor Lamoli!
Sorrowing
Lamoli!
A day has come, ah, happy day!
That brought a stranger in the way
Of sorrowing Lamoli!
Long ago the stranger did a deed,
A friendly deed, in time of need,
Which won for him the lover’s meed.
Sweet Lamoli!
Chorus. Oh, Lamoli!
Sweet Lamoli!
Charming Lamoli!
This stranger sav’d young Kalulu
From cruel bonds at Kwikuru.
The good stranger!
Kalulu swore to this brave man,
As long as life-blood in him ran,
To praise the name to every man
Of this brave stranger!
Chorus. Oh, stranger!
Good stranger!
Brave stranger!
This man has come to Tuta Land,
This man who sav’d with friendly hand
Our young Kalulu!
Shall we deny him our faint praise?
Shall we refuse him wedlock lays?
Shall we not wish him happiest days?
Who sav’d Kalulu?
Chorus. Oh, Kalulu!
Young Kalulu!
Brave Kalulu!
Our great King heard the stranger’s name,
And nearer to him the stranger came,
To Katalambula!
He said, “I’ve known this story long,
A Mtuta’s memory is strong.
I love the good and hate the wrong,”
Said Katalambula!
Chorus. Oh, Katalambula!
Good Katalambula!
Great Katalambula!
Give him house, give him home. You boy!
Give him pombe and food. Give him joy!
Give him Lamoli!
Brave man! take the pride of our race;
Take the dearest girl with the loveliest face.
Live in the shade of our kingly mace
With good Lamoli!
Chorus. Oh, Lamoli!
Good Lamoli!
Sweet Lamoli!
We sing the happy marriage song.
We sound the drum and beat the gong
For joy with Lamoli.
Now a wife, no longer weeping,
No more to spend her days in mourning,
She will be for ever laughing,
Happy Lamoli!
Chorus. Oh, Lamoli!
Charming Lamoli!
Happy Lamoli!

The music accompanying this song was slow and sweet, worthy of the great occasion on which it was given. During the chorus, the dancing became more lively, and each man and woman lifted the voice high, which created a grand and majestic volume of sound, while the drums were beaten with a terrific vigour. The festivities lasted all the day and night, until sunrise next morning; but during the night they were better attended, nearly a thousand souls joining in the song and chorus. Kalulu and many others were hoarse from over-exertion of voice, when they retired next morning to rest.