Chorus: “... Ulendo u Che Kandangu....”
Che Likoswe’s “get-up” and delivery are very much the same as Sulila’s, except that, in conformity with his name, he sings, fiddles and dances still more vivaciously than his blind colleague, who is also an older man. He is, moreover, extremely versatile—it is all one to him whether he mimes on the ground, or on tall stilts—a sight which struck me with astonishment the first time I beheld it. The song itself, of course, refers to a journey in which he himself took part. The most important incident from the native point of view is, that all the maize taken with them by the travellers was roasted—i.e., consumed, before the goal was reached. Mr. Rat’s other song is much more interesting; it has an unmistakable affinity with Sulila’s war-song, and gains in actuality for me personally, because it is concerned with Mr. Linder, the excellent agricultural inspector of the Lindi municipality, to whom I owe many valuable suggestions, and who, on account of his thorough acquaintance with this very district, had originally been selected as my companion. Linder rendered splendid service in suppressing the rebellion: while any action on the part of the Field Force was still entirely out of the question, he had already, with a small detachment of police, repulsed numerous attacks of the rebels, and ultimately sustained a serious wound. But while decorations have been simply raining down on the Navy and the Schutztruppe, Bwana Linda still walks among mortals without a single order. He is, however, a philosopher as well as a hero.
The song runs as follows:—
Ulendo wa Linda (er); pa kwenda ku Masasi na gumiri chikuo: mkasálile mbwana mkubwa ngondo jaiche nand autwiche lunga yangadye. Mkasálile akida Matora: ngondo jaiche na gombel(r)e lilōmbe. Tukujir(l)a Masasi; Mwera kupita mchikasa mpaka pe Lindi. Ne wapere rukhsa. Yendeye ku mangwenu; mkapānde mapemba.
The translation is as follows:—
“The journey of Linder, when he went to Masasi, and I shouted with a shouting.—‘Tell the Bwana Mkubwa, war has come, and I ran away without looking back. Tell the akida Matora, (that) the war has come, and I have beaten the great-drum.’ Then we went to Masasi, the Wamwera are beaten and go as far as Lindi, and they get permission. ‘Go to your homes, and plant Mapemba (sorghum).’”
This is delivered in very quick recitative, and relates in a few words the history of the whole campaign, of course making the singer the central point. Mr. Linder comes to Masasi in the course of one of his official tours, his principal duty being to ascertain whether the local headmen have cultivated the various crops prescribed by government. There the loyal Likoswe of course hastens to him and warns him of impending hostilities on the part of the Wamwera. Linder in his turn sends word to the District Commissioner at Lindi, and at the same time despatches Likoswe with an urgent message to Matola’s. Likoswe, on arriving, beats the war-drum (lilombe), Matola’s warriors immediately hasten to the spot, six hundred men with guns and many more with spears, bows and arrows, and the chief marches on Masasi, to take the Wamwera in the rear. It is related as a fact that Seliman Mamba and his subordinates had each, at the beginning of the rising when their hopes were highest and they already saw the Germans driven into the sea, fixed on a house at Lindi with all its contents as his own share of the spoil. Possibly, the line about the enemy’s going back to Lindi refers to these unrealised plans. Matola, I believe, lost about forty men in fighting the rebels, but certainly did not drive them back to Lindi. The last sentence relates to the conclusion of peace:—the vanquished are pardoned, and directed to go home quietly and plant their gardens once more.
YAO DANCE AT CHINGULUNGULU
My cinematograph, too, has been several times in requisition during my stay at Chingulungulu, as I have found opportunity to take a whole series of dances of the Wayao and Makua. The latter, it is well known, are the hunting-tribe par excellence of the east—indeed professional hunters of any tribe are generally described as Makua. They are, moreover, typical for all other tribes in their method of hunting, and in all appliances and customs connected therewith. One day, by Matola’s orders, a troop appeared at Chingulungulu to perform, as they said, the makwaru—a dance entirely based on the details of the hunter’s life. I had quickly got my apparatus arranged in a suitable place, not an easy matter here in the loose alluvial soil, as, if one presses too hard on the legs of the tripod, they are apt to sink into the sand up to their whole height. Grown wise by experience, I now take the precaution of driving a wooden wedge obliquely from above under each leg before beginning operations. It is more difficult to remedy the results of a mistaken economy. In order to save the African Fund about twelve shillings and a quarter of a carrier, I did not bring the heavy stand necessary for the Ernemann cinematograph, thinking that I could use my ordinary camera-stand. This, though excellent of its kind, is far too light to stand the continual jerks of the cinematograph, and I have to balance matters by hanging a heavy stone or one of my packing-cases under it. If matters become very serious one of the carriers has to sacrifice himself and do duty as a tripod-holder. Everything being now ready for the makwaru, the same band which figured at Sulila’s and Likoswe’s performances takes its place. It consists of six or seven men and youths, squatting before their long white logs with their drumsticks in hand. Suddenly, a fantastically decorated something flashes into the circle, moving so rapidly that it is impossible to distinguish whether it is a man or a woman. Being compelled to pause for breath it is revealed as a middle-aged man in a kilt of long green leaves resembling a ballet-dancer’s skirt. The man scarcely stirs from the spot, but his skirt flies in the wind, and he works his feet in quick, regular time, while at the same time his arms move in a manner difficult to describe, as there is nothing in European dancing which in the least degree corresponds to it; and both, arms and legs, keep exact time with the band. Whether the rest of the body in its incessant motion backwards and forwards also keeps time it is impossible to decide, as the vibrations are too rapid to let the eye make out the details. This stage lasts so long that I am tempted to regret the waste of my precious film.