The Wamwera are just now in a deplorable condition. The whole of this tribe was concerned in the rising, and though refusing to acknowledge defeat in battle after battle, were ultimately forced to take refuge in the bush. The mere fact of living for months without shelter in the rainy season would of itself cause suffering enough; and when we add that they have had no harvest, being unable to sow their crops at the beginning of the rains, it can readily be understood that numbers must have perished. Now that most of the ringleaders have been secured and sent down to the coast, the survivors are gradually coming forth from their hiding-places. But what a spectacle do the poor creatures present! encrusted more thickly than usual with dirt, emaciated to skeletons, suffering from skin-diseases of various kinds, with inflamed eyes—and exhaling a nauseous effluvium. But at least they are willing to face the white man—a sign of newly-established confidence in our rule which must not be undervalued.
Several hours’ hard marching from Nyangao bring us to the residence of “Sultan” Hatia. He is the fourth of his name on this tiny throne of the Makua. The grave of his predecessor, Hatia III, lies in a deep cave on the Unguruwe mountain. This mountain is really a promontory of the Makonde plateau projecting far into the Lukuledi plain. It is visible from the road for several days before we reach it, with its gleaming red cliff-face, which might fitly be described as the emblem of the whole Central Lukuledi region. It also plays a great part in the myths and legends of the local tribes. The traditions of the past had already gathered round it before the burial of Hatia III; but now that the dead chief rests in a dark ravine forbidden to every profane footstep, from the toil and turmoil of his life, the Unguruwe has become in popular belief a sanctuary where, on moonlight nights, Hatia rises from his grave, and assembles the ghosts of his subjects round him for the dance.
Hatia IV had returned to his capital just before our arrival, having had some months’ leisure on the coast, in which to think over the consequences of the rising. He impressed me as a broken man, physically in no better case than his subjects; moreover he was no better lodged, and certainly no better provided with food than they. On the day of our halt at his village, he was more than ordinarily depressed. A few hours previously a lion, whose impudence has made him famous throughout the country, had in broad daylight dragged a woman out of a hut, not far from the chief’s dwelling. The prints of the enormous paws were still quite clear in the sand, so that we could track the robber right round the hut in which a man with his wife and child had been sitting at their ease. The great brute had suddenly sprung on the woman who was sitting next the door. Her husband tried to hold her, but was weak from illness, and could offer no effectual resistance. Though for some time the poor creature’s shrieks, “Nna kufa! Nna kufa!”—“I die! I die!”—could be heard in the bush, growing fainter and fainter, no one could come to her help, for the people have been deprived of their guns since the rising, and even if they had had them, there was no ammunition, the importation of this having been stopped some time ago.
The nephew and heir of Hatia IV is to take the part of avenger. He is a handsome, jet-black youth with a small frizzled moustache on his upper lip, and an enviably thick growth of woolly hair on his scalp. Armed with a rifle, of which he is unconscionably proud, he has come with us from Lindi in order to deliver his people from the plague of lions. Such an expression is, in truth, no exaggeration as far as this place is concerned. It is said that the whole length of the road from Nyangao to Masasi has been divided between four pairs of lions, each of which patrols its own section, on the look-out for human victims. Even the three missionaries at Nyangao are not safe; Father Clement, when out for a walk, not long ago, suddenly found himself face to face with a huge lion, who, however, seemed quite as much startled by the incident as the good Father himself.
After examining the architecture of the present Wamwera huts, I can easily understand how the lion at Hatia’s could drag the woman out from the interior. Anyone desirous of studying the evolution of the human dwelling-house could very well see its beginnings here. Most of these dwellings are nothing more or less than two walls, consisting of bundles of grass roughly tied together, and leaning against each other in a slanting position. The addition of gable-ends marks quite a superior class of house. Besides this, the Wamwera have been compelled to build their huts, such as they are, in the untouched jungle, since they have lost all they had, even the necessary implements for tillage and for clearing the bush. Their villages, containing their only possessions of any value, were of course levelled with the ground by our troops. The lion is shy of open spaces, but feels at home in the pori, which he looks upon as his natural hunting-ground, and where he can creep unseen close up to a hut before making his deadly spring.
One point I must not forget. Even before leaving Lindi, my mouth had watered at the descriptions I heard of the extraordinary appearance presented by the Wamwera women. But I find that these descriptions come far short of the reality. The famous Botocudos of Brazil with their labrets are nothing to the southern tribes of German East Africa. I had long known that the Makonde plateau and the whole surrounding country belong to the region of the pelele, or lip ring, but I have never come across a good illustration of earlier date than my own. The accompanying reproductions of photographs will show the nature of this extraordinary decoration more clearly than any description.
The pelele, or, as it is called in Kimwera, itona, is only worn by the women, but among them it is universal. It is a peg, in older persons even an actual disc, of ebony, or else of some light-coloured wood bleached snow-white with argillaceous earth, inserted in the upper lip, which is perforated and stretched to receive it. Of course, a disc the size of a two-shilling piece is not inserted all at once: the operation is very gradual and begins by piercing the lip, between a girl’s seventh and ninth year, with the end of a razor which is ground into the shape of an awl.[[8]] The hole is kept open by inserting a foreign body of small size, such as a thin stalk of grass, or the like. It is then enlarged by adding another stalk at regular intervals; and after a time, a strip of palm-leaf rolled up into a spiral is substituted. This, being elastic, presses against the sides of the opening, and so, in due course renders it large enough to receive the first solid plug. Among the Wamwera the diameter of this varies from the thickness of a finger to the size of a florin; the older Makonde women, however, are said to have them twice as large. Naturally I am all impatience to see these people, whose country, moreover, is as yet a complete terra incognita, as far as science is concerned.
A MWERA WOMAN
