Their dances are really remarkable, as may be seen by the following extract from the work of Mr. Baines:—“At night, dances were got up among the Damaras, our attention being first drawn to them by a sound between the barking of a dog and the efforts of a person to clear something out of his throat, by driving the breath strongly through it. We found four men stooping with their heads in contact, vying with each other in the production of these delectable inarticulations, while others, with rattling anklets of hard seed-shells, danced round them. By degrees the company gathered together, and the women joined the performers, standing in a semi-circle. They sang a monotonous chant, and clapped their hands, while the young men and boys danced up to them, literally, and by no means gently, ‘beating the ground with nimble feet,’ raising no end of dust, and making their shell anklets sound, in their opinion, most melodiously. Presently the leader snatched a brand from the fire, and, after dancing up to the women as before, stuck it in the ground as he retired, performing the step round and over it when he returned, like a Highlander in the broadsword dance, without touching it. Then came the return of a victorious party, brandishing their broad spears ornamented with flowing ox-tails, welcomed by a chorus of women, and occasionally driving back the few enemies who had the audacity to approach them.
“This scene, when acted by a sufficient number, must be highly effective. As it was, the glare of the fire reflected from the red helmet-like gear and glittering ornaments of the women, the flashing blades and waving ox-tails of the warriors, with the fitful glare playing on the background of huts, kraal, and groups of cattle, was picturesque enough. The concluding guttural emissions of sound were frightful; the dogs howled simultaneously; and the little lemur, terrified at the uproar, darted wildly about the inside of the wagon, in vain efforts to escape from what, in fact, was his only place of safety.”
In Damara-land, the authority of the husband over the wife is not so superior as in other parts of Africa. Of course, he has the advantage of superior strength, and, when angered, will use the stick with tolerable freedom. But, if he should be too liberal with the stick, she has a tacit right of divorce, and betakes herself to some one who will not treat her so harshly. Mr. Galton says that the women whom he saw appeared to have but little affection either for their husbands or children, and that he had always some little difficulty in finding to which man any given wife happened for the time to belong. The Damara wife costs her husband nothing for her keep, because she “crows” her own ground-nuts, and so he cannot afford to dispense with her services, which are so useful in building his house, cooking his meals, and carrying his goods from place to place. Each wife has her own hut, which of course she builds for herself; and, although polygamy is in vogue, the number of wives is not so great as is the case with other tribes. There is always one chief wife, who takes precedence of the others, and whose eldest son is considered the heir to his father’s possessions.
Though the Damaras have no real religion, they have plenty of superstitious practices, one of which bears a striking resemblance to the sacred fire of the ancients. The chief’s hut is distinguished by a fire which is always kept burning, outside the hut in fine weather, and inside during rain. To watch this fire is the duty of his daughter, who is a kind of priestess, and is called officially Ondangere. She performs various rites in virtue of her office; such as sprinkling the cows with water, as they go out to feed; tying a sacred knot in her leathern apron, if one of them dies; and other similar duties. Should the position of the village be changed, she precedes the oxen, carrying a burning brand from the consecrated fire, and taking care that she replaces it from time to time. If by any chance it should be extinguished, great are the lamentations. The whole tribe are called together, cattle are sacrificed as expiatory offerings, and the fire is re-kindled by friction. If one of the sons, or a chief man, should remove from the spot, and set up a village of his own, he is supplied with some of the sacred fire, and hands it over to his own daughter, who becomes the Ondangere of the new village.
That the Damaras have some hazy notion of the immortality of the soul is evident enough, though they profess not to believe in such a doctrine; for they will sometimes go to the grave of a deceased friend or chief, lay down provisions, ask him to eat, drink, and be merry, and then beg him, in return, to aid them, and grant them herds of cattle and plenty of wives. Moreover, they believe that the dead revisit the earth, though not in the human form: they generally appear in the shape of some animal, but are always distinguished by a mixture of some other animal. For example, if a Damara sees a dog with one foot like that of an ostrich, he knows that he sees an apparition, and is respectful accordingly. If it should follow him, he is dreadfully frightened, knowing that his death is prognosticated thereby. The name of such an apparition is Otj-yuru.
When a Damara chief dies, he is buried in rather a peculiar fashion. As soon as life is extinct—some say, even before the last breath is drawn—the bystanders break the spine by a blow from a large stone. They then unwind the long rope that encircles the loins, and lash the body together in a sitting posture, the head being bent over the knees. Ox-hides are then tied over it, and it is buried with its face to the north, as already described when treating of the Bechuanas. Cattle are then slaughtered in honor of the dead chief, and over the grave a post is erected, to which the skulls and hair are attached as a trophy. The bow, arrows, assagai, and clubs of the deceased are hung on the same post. Large stones are pressed into the soil above and around the grave, and a large pile of thorns is also heaped over it, in order to keep off the hyænas, who would be sure to dig up and devour the body before the following day. The grave of a Damara chief is [represented] on page 302. Now and then a chief orders that his body shall be left in his own house, in which case it is laid on an elevated platform, and a strong fence of thorns and stakes built round the hut.
The funeral ceremonies being completed, the new chief forsakes the place, and takes the whole of the people under his command. He remains at a distance for several years, during which time he wears the sign of mourning, i. e. a dark-colored conical cap, and round the neck a thong, to the ends of which are hung two small pieces of ostrich shell.
When the season of mourning is over, the tribe return, headed by the chief, who goes to the grave of his father, kneels over it, and whispers that he has returned, together with the cattle and wives which his father gave him. He then asks for his parent’s aid in all his undertakings, and from that moment takes the place which his father filled before him. Cattle are then slaughtered and a feast held to the memory of the dead chief, and in honor of the living one; and each person present partakes of the meat, which is distributed by the chief himself. The deceased chief symbolically partakes of the banquet. A couple of twigs cut from the tree of the particular eanda to which the deceased belonged are considered as his representative, and with this emblem each piece of meat is touched before the guests consume it. In like manner, the first pail of milk that is drawn is taken to the grave, and poured over it.
These ceremonies being rightly performed, the village is built anew, and is always made to resemble that which had been deserted; the huts being built on the same ground, and peculiar care being taken that the fireplaces should occupy exactly the same positions that they did before the tribe went into voluntary exile. The hut of the chief is always upon the east side of the village.
The Damaras have a singular kind of oath, or asseveration—“By the tears of my mother!”—a form of words so poetical and pathetic, that it seems to imply great moral capabilities among a people that could invent and use it.