When Sir S. Baker passed through the country, the great chief of the Latookas was named Moy. He had a brother, named Commoro, and, although in actual rank Moy took precedence of his brother, Commoro was virtually the king, having far more influence over the people than his brother. Commoro was really deserving of this influence, and was remarkable for his acuteness and strong common sense. Without his exertions the Latookas would certainly have assaulted the caravan, and great slaughter must have ensued, the natives having learned to despise guns on account of a victory which they had lately gained over a party of slave-stealers. He had a long argument with his visitor respecting the immortality of the soul, and resurrection after death, but could in no way be convinced that a man could live after death. Had he had even any superstitious feelings, something might have been done with him, but, like many other sceptics, he flatly refused to believe anything which is without the range of his senses.
The familiar illustration of the grain of corn planted in the earth was used, but without effect. He was quite willing that the grain in question should represent himself, but controverted the conclusion which was drawn from the premises. The ears of corn filled with grains, which would spring up after the decay of the original seed, were not, he said, representatives of himself, but were his children, who lived after he was dead. The ingenuity with which he slipped out of the argument was very considerable, and, as Sir S. Baker remarks, “it was extraordinary to see so much clearness of perception combined with such complete obtuseness to anything ideal.”
The Latookas are very good blacksmiths, and excel in the manufacture of iron hoe-blades, or “molotes” as they are called. This instrument is also used as money. The bellows are made on the same principle as those used by the Kaffir tribes, but, instead of using merely a couple of leather bags, the Latooka blacksmith employs two earthenware pots, and over the mouth of each pot is loosely tied a large piece of soft, pliable leather, kept well greased to insure its softness. A perpendicular stick about four feet in length is fastened to the centre of each skin, and, when these are worked rapidly up and down, the wind is forced through earthenware tubes which communicate with the bottom of the pots.
The tools are very simple, a large stone doing duty for an anvil, and a smaller for a hammer, while a cleft stick of green wood is used by way of pincers. Great care is taken in shaping the molotes, which are always carefully tested by balancing them on their heads, and making them ring by a blow of the finger. When used for agriculture, the molotes are fastened to the end of wooden shafts, seldom less than seven, and often ten, feet in length, and thus a powerful leverage is gained.
Although the Latooka is generally ready for war, he is not a born warrior, as is the case with many tribes. The Zulu, for example, lives chiefly for war; he thinks of it day and night, and his great ambition is to distinguish himself in battle. The Latooka, on the other hand, seldom wages war without a cause which he is pleased to think a good one; but, when he does, he fights well. The chief cause for which a Latooka will fight to the death is his cattle. He will sometimes run away when a powerful party makes a raid on his village, and carries off his wives and children for slaves; but if they attempt to drive off his cattle, the spirit of the noble savage is set a-blaze, and he is at once up in arms.
A curious example of this trait of character occurred during Sir S. Baker’s residence in Latooka-land. One of the Mahometan traders (who, it will be remembered, are the very pest and scourge of the country) gathered together a band of three hundred natives, and more than a hundred of his own countrymen, for the purpose of making a raid upon a certain village among the mountains. The men ran away, and the invaders captured a great number of women and children, with whom they might have escaped unmolested. Unfortunately for them, they were told of a large herd of cattle which they had missed, and accordingly returned, and began to drive off their spoil.
The Latookas had witnessed the capture of their wives and children without attempting a rescue, but the attack on their beloved cattle was too much for them, and they poured out of their hiding places like a swarm of angry wasps. Maddened with the idea of losing their cattle, they bravely faced the muskets with their spears and shields, and clustered round the invaders in resistless numbers. Each man, as he advanced, leaped behind some cover, from which he could hurl a lance, while others climbed up the rocks, and rolled great stones on their enemies. The attack was so sudden and simultaneous, that the Turks found themselves beset on all sides, and yet could hardly see a man at whom they could aim.
They fled in terror down the path, and, mistaking in their haste the right road, they turned aside to one which led to a precipice five hundred feet in depth. Seeing their danger, they tried to retreat, but the ever-increasing multitudes pressed closer and closer upon them, forced them nearer to the precipice, and at last drove them all over it. Not a man escaped, and although a few turned and fought with the courage of despair, they were hurled over the precipice after their comrades. The artist has represented [this victory] on the next page.
This was the victory over fire-arms which had inspired the Latookas with such contempt for these weapons, and had it not been for Commoro’s mediation, they would have attacked the English party. That subtle chief, however, well knew the difference between assaulting an assemblage of Turks and Africans among the rocky passes and attacking in the open country a well-armed party commanded by Europeans. Such an attack was once meditated, and Sir Samuel Baker’s account of it gives an excellent idea of the Latooka mode of warfare. The reader must remember that the war drum is an institution throughout the greater part of Central Africa.
“It was about five P. M., one hour before sunset. The woman who usually brought us water delivered her jar, but disappeared immediately after, without sweeping the courtyard, as was her custom. Her children, who usually played in this enclosure, vanished. On searching her hut, which was in one corner of the yard, no one was to be found, and even the grinding-stone was gone. Suspecting that something was in the wind, I sent Karka and Gaddum-Her, the two black servants, to search in various huts in the neighborhood to observe whether the owners were present, and whether the women were in their houses. Not a woman could be found. Neither woman nor child remained in the large town of Tarrangollé. There was an extraordinary stillness, where usually all was noise and chattering. All the women and children had been removed to the mountains, about two miles distant, and this so quickly and noiselessly that it appeared incredible.”