Our object to-day was to inquire into the politics of the country, and to verify the strange stories we had heard about the priest of the lion god, the Mondoro, who is reported to be even stronger than the chief. We wanted to learn more concerning the cult of the lion, and where the Zimbabwe of ’Mtokoland was, where the annual sacrifices take place to the king of beasts.
The question was a delicate one, and had to be tenderly approached, knowing as we did by this time [[327]]the extreme reluctance of the Kaffirs to disclose to white men the secrets of their religion. A man called Benoula seemed to take the lead in everything. The ’Mtoko hardly spoke, and looked very uncomfortable whilst the catechising was going on. The results of our investigations were vague. The Mondoro, or lion priest, was uncle to the chief, and he resided at Lutzi, the village by which we had passed. The old ’Mtoko on his death-mat had left his son and heir somehow or another in tutelage to this mysterious priest-uncle of his. When asked where the Zimbabwe was, he replied reluctantly: ‘The Mondoro may tell you if he likes; I dare not.’ Finally, after ‘the Home of the Buffaloes’’ hair had been taken down by his majesty’s special request, we made arrangements for Benoula to accompany us to Lutzi on the morrow and introduce us to the priest, whom we had been so near without knowing it when we first entered the country.
We took a look round the kraal before taking our leave. The cattle are all housed in the centre of it. There was the pigeon-cote, a feature in all the villages about here, consisting of a mud box with holes, raised on poles. Hard by dwelt a hideous black sow with a litter of young ones in a grass sty. There was a hut for the calves and a hut for the goats, a scene of bucolic prosperity which we had come across nowhere else in Mashonaland.
The following morning, after breakfast, we set off for Lutzi once more, armed with presents for the lion priest, and exceedingly curious about him. [[328]]Benoula was there before us, and everyone was expecting our arrival. Presently we were ushered into a large but rather dilapidated hut, where sat a venerable-looking old man, who received us and our presents with great cordiality. We seated ourselves on the ground, forming a curious assemblage: the Mondoro and his son, ’Mkateo, his enormously fat daughter Tourla, Benoula, and one or two indunas, our three selves, and our interpreter. ‘I am the ’Mtoko,’ was almost the first thing the old man said, explaining how he considered himself the rightful heir to the chiefdom. ‘Next year, when the crops are gathered in, I shall return to the kraal where my brother died, and assume the command of the country.’ We soon saw the state of things, which explained many points that had previously been mysterious. ’Mtokoland was threatened with a grave political quarrel, and all the elements of civil war were present. The elders of the country all recognise the Mondoro as their chief; whilst younger men, with everything to gain and little to lose, affect to follow the chief whose kraal we had visited, and whom they speak of as Bedapera at Lutzi, his own name, as distinguished from the dynastic name of ’Mtoko.
WOODEN SPOON. LUTZI
[[329]]
In his position as religious head of the community lies the Mondoro’s strength. ‘Here is the Zimbabwe of our land, here the annual sacrifice to the Maklosi of our ancestors now takes place;’ that is to say, wherever the chief lives, and wherever the annual sacrifice takes place, there is the Zimbabwe of the chiefdom.
Then we questioned him about the lion god, and he gave us to understand that the Mondoro or lion god of ’Mtoko’s country is a sort of spiritual lion which only appears in time of danger, and fights for the men of ’Mtoko; all good men of the tribe, when they die, pass into the lion form and reappear to fight for their friends. It is quite clear that these savages entertain a firm belief in an after-life and a spiritual world, and worship their ancestors as spiritual intercessors between them and the vague Muali or God who lives in Heaven.
The lion of ’Mtoko is the totem of the tribe. We asked the old priest if we should get into trouble if we shot a lion whilst in his country. ‘If a lion attacks you,’ he replied, ‘you may shoot it, for it could not be one of ours; our lions will do the white man no harm, for they are our friends.’ There was a charming amount of dignity and sophistry about the old Mondoro. We felt that he was a far better man to rule the country than his nervous, superstitious nephew. Once a year this old Mondoro (the name Mondoro is common in this country both to the sacred lions and the priest) sacrifices a bullock and a [[330]]goat to the Maklosi or luck spirit of their ancestors. Formerly this ceremony took place at the residence of the old chief, and now here at Lutzi; much beer is drunk on the occasion, and it takes place in February, about the same time as the Matabele war-dance.