A singularly handsome specimen of a kaross is now before me. It is made of the skins of the gray jackal, and, although not so attractive to European eyes as if it had been made from the skin of the black-backed jackal, is, in a Kaffir’s estimation, a far more valuable article, inasmuch as the gray species is much rarer than the black-backed.
The man who designed this kaross may fairly be entitled to the name of artist. It is five feet three inches in depth, and very nearly six feet in width, and therefore a considerable number of skins have been used in making it. But the skins have not merely been squared and then sewed together, the manufacturer having in his mind a very bold design. Most persons are aware, that in the majority of animals, the jackal included, the skin is darkest along the back, a very dark stripe runs along the spine, and that the fur fades into whitish gray upon the flanks and under the belly. The kaross maker has started with the idea of forming the cloak on the same principle, and making it look as if it were composed of one large skin. Accordingly, he has selected the darkest skins for the centre of the kaross, and arranged them so that they fade away into gray at the edges. This is done, not by merely putting the darker skins in the middle, and the lighter toward the edges, but by cutting the skins into oblong pieces of nearly the same size, and sewing them together so neatly that the lines of junction are quite invisible. All the heads are set in a row along the upper edges, and, being worked very flat, can be turned over, and form a kind of cape, as has already been mentioned. The lower edge of the kaross has a very handsome appearance, the gray color of the fur rapidly deepening into black, which makes a broad stripe some four inches in depth. This is obtained by taking the skin of the paws, which are very black, and sewing them to the cape of the mantle.
Of course, a Kaffir has no knowledge of gloves, but there are seasons when he really wants some covering for his hands. A creature of the sun, he cannot endure cold; and in weather when the white men are walking in their lightest clothing and exulting in the unaccustomed coolness, the Kaffir is wrapped in his thickest kaross, cowering over the fire, and absolutely paralyzed, both bodily and mentally, with the cold. He therefore makes certain additions to his kaross, and so forms a kind of shelter for the hands. About two feet from the top of the kaross, and on the outer edges, are a pair of small wings or projections, about a foot in length, and eight inches in width. When the Kaffir puts on the kaross, he doubles the upper part to form the cape, turns the furry side within, grasps one of these winglets with each hand, and then wraps it round his shoulders. The hands are thus protected from the cold, and the upper part of the body is completely covered. The kaross descends as far as the knees in front, and is about a foot longer at the sides and at the back. The whole edge of the kaross is bound on the inside with a narrow band of thin, but very strong membrane, and is thus rendered less liable to be torn. The membrane is obtained as follows. A skin of some animal, usually one of the antelopes, is rolled up and buried in the ground until a certain amount of putrefaction takes place. It is then removed, and the Kaffir splits it by introducing his knife, and then, with a quick jerk, strips off the membranous skin. If it does not separate easily, the skin is replaced in the ground, and left for a day or two longer.
This fine specimen was brought from Southern Africa by Mr. Christie, who has had it in constant use as a railway rug and for similar purposes for some fourteen years, and it is still as serviceable as ever. I ought to mention that both this and my own kaross were made by Bechuanas, and not by Zulus, the latter tribe always using for their kaross a single hide of an ox dressed soft. The peculiar mode of manipulating a hide when dressing it is called “braying,” perhaps because it bears some resemblance to the “braying” or rubbing of a substance in a mortar, as distinguished from pounding it. A handful of the hide is taken in each hand and gathered up, so as to form two or three wrinkles on the fleshy side. The wrinkles are then rubbed on each other, with a peculiar twisting movement, which is almost identical with that of the gizzard in grain-eating birds.
Of similar skins the Kaffir makes a kind of bag in which he puts his pipe, tobacco, and various other little comforts. This bag, which is popularly called a knapsack, deserves more rightly the name of haversack, as it is not carried on the back, but slung to the side. It is made of the skin of some small animal, such as a hare or a hyrax, and is formed in a very simple manner. When the Kaffir has killed the animal, he strips off the skin by making a cut, not along the belly, as is the usual fashion, but from one hind leg to the other. By dint of pushing and pulling, he contrives to strip off the skin, and of course turns it inside out in so doing, much as is the case when a taxidermist skins a snake or frog. The skin is then “brayed” in the ordinary fashion, while the furry side is inward; and when this operation is completed, the mouth, ears and eyelids are sewed up, and it is then reversed so as to bring the fur outward. Straps are attached to the two hind legs, so that the wearer can sling the bag over his shoulder. The natives put these bags to all kinds of uses, some of them being rather odd according to our ideas. It has been mentioned that the pipe, tobacco, and other little articles which a Kaffir has, are kept in the bag. If, perchance, the wearer should discover a bees’ nest, he empties his “knapsack,” turns it inside out, shakes it well in order to get rid of the scraps of tobacco and other debris of a Kaffir’s pouch, and then proceeds to attack the bees. When he has succeeded in reaching the honeycombs, he removes them from the nest, puts them into the bag, and goes off with his prize, regardless of the state in which the interior of the bag will be left.
The skill of the Kaffir in sewing fur is the more notable when we take into consideration the peculiar needle and thread which he uses. The needle is not in the least like the delicate, slender articles employed by European seamstresses. In the first place, it has no eye; and in the second, it is more like a skewer than a needle. If any of my classical readers will recall to their minds the “stylus” which the ancients used instead of a pen, he will have a very good idea of a Kaffir’s needle.
As the Kaffir likes to carry his needle about with him, he makes a sheath or case of leather. There is great variety in these cases. The simplest are merely made of strips of hide rolled round the needle, and sewed together at the edges.
The most ornamental needle that I have seen was brought to England by the late H. Jackson, Esq., who kindly placed it and the rest of his valuable collection at my disposal. This needle is represented at [fig. 1], in the illustration “Kaffir needles,” page 33. It is of the ordinary shape, though much larger than most that are used; but it is upon the sheath and its ornaments that the proud owner has lavished his powers. The sheath is made of leather, but is modelled into a curious pattern, which may be easily imitated. Roll up a tube of paper, about the third of an inch in diameter. At an inch from the end, pinch it tightly between the right thumb and finger, until it is squeezed flat. Still retaining the grasp, pinch it with the left hand just below the finger and thumb of the right, and at right angles to them. Proceed in this manner until the whole of it has been pinched. Then, if we suppose that the tube is made of raw hide thoroughly wetted, that a well oiled needle is placed in it, and that the leather is worked carefully upon the needle so as to make a sheath, ornamented with flattened projections at right angles to each other, we shall see how the sheath is made.
The siring of beads by which it is hung around the neck is put together with great taste. The pale-tinted beads are white with rings of scarlet, and the others are blue with large spots of white, the whole forming a very artistic contrast with the skin of the wearer. The best point of this needle case is, however, the ornament which hangs to it just by the head of the needle. This is a piece of rhinoceros horn, cut into the shape of a buffalo head and part of the neck—very much, indeed, as if it had been intended for the handle of a seal. The skill with which the artist—for he really deserves the name—has manipulated this stubborn substance is really admirable. The sweep of the animal’s horns is hit off with a boldness of line and a freedom of execution that would scarcely be expected from a savage. That he should make an accurate representation of the animal was likely enough, considering his familiarity with the subject, but that he should be able to carve with his assagai-blade so artistic a design could hardly have been expected from him.
By the side of this needle hangs [another], which I have introduced because the sheath, instead of being made of leather, is a wooden tube, closed at one end, and guarded at both ends by a thong of raw hide rolled round it.