The performance of dances like the one just described, which is connected with the circumcision rite, have naturally increased my interest in this tribal festival, and my desire to see and study it as closely as possible.
My curiosity was increased by the two following incidents. One afternoon I was strolling through the bush in the neighbourhood of Chingulungulu; we had already obtained some interesting photographs of graves, had studied the exterior and interior of some outlying homesteads, and were about to take some views of the pori showing the character of the vegetation. After straggling in Indian file through the high grass and the underwood, which was here exceptionally dense, we came to a little circular clearing, perhaps from fifteen to twenty yards in diameter, and studded with a few scattered bushes. The unique feature of the place was two concentric circles of stumps having another stump in the centre. These stumps were about a foot high, cut off with a perfectly smooth horizontal surface, and excellently well adapted for seats. I took a photograph of this remarkable object without loss of time, and, on my return to camp, made inquiries of Matola and others as to its meaning. I found that the stumps were seats for the wari, as the boys under initiation are called after a certain point in the ceremony, and the seat in the middle was that reserved for the instructor who has charge of the boys during the months which they have to spend in a hut built for the purpose in the bush. My informants added that the hut had stood close to the circle, but was no longer in existence, as the unyago for which it had been built had taken place some years ago.
Some days later, Knudsen and I were sitting under our baraza in the early part of the afternoon, pressing our hands to our temples. It was no wonder that every day about this time we both suffered from excruciating headaches, for the temperature had been steadily rising during the last few weeks, and on this particular afternoon the thermometer stood at 93·36°F. We had given vent to our disgust at the Dark Continent in the strongest of language, and I was just about to soothe our ruffled feelings with a cigar apiece, when we saw two black figures approaching. These proved to be Akundonde, the wise old Yao chief, and his councillor, Akumapanje. We had sent to ask Akundonde to find us some men capable of giving accurate information, and now he came himself, though far from well. He was suffering from the usual neglected ulcer on the leg, and could only limp along painfully with the help of his staff, so that his taking a four hours’ walk to oblige us shows a degree of goodwill deserving the amplest recognition.
Akundonde being established in Knudsen’s long chair, while his companion took a seat on a packing-case, I made an effort to divert the conversation from the trifles which at first threatened to engross it to the subjects which chiefly interest me, and succeeded, more by luck than good guidance. As usually happens, we were soon discussing the most recondite matters, such as the attitude of the natives towards eclipses, the fall of meteorites, and the moon. Meteorites are considered by the Yaos as of evil omen. When they are heard to explode, people say, “Either a great chief will die this year, or a great multitude of the people will perish.” An eclipse of the moon is thought, as among all primitive people, to be a personal encounter between two foes. The enemy of the moon is, of course, the sun; they seize each other fiercely and wrestle together. As both are equally matched, the battle remains undecided, which forces mankind to interfere. The Wayao run in haste to fetch hoes and axes, and strike them against each other, looking up at the scene of strife and calling out:—
“Mlekangane, mlekangane, mwesi na lyuwa, mkamulene, Mlekangane, mlekangane sambano.”
“Go asunder, go asunder, sun and moon, you have seized one another. Go asunder, go asunder now.”
The same custom is observed in eclipses of the sun, as is only logical.
The full moon with her pale light exercises the same magical influence on the native mind as on the feelings of every other mortal, except that our black brother is not like us filled with emotional enthusiasm, but, quite in conformity with his views on other matters, makes use of this favourable opportunity for heightening the virtue of his medicines and charms. When the moon is at the full, the native goes to the nearest cross-roads, or to a place where two paths meet, carrying with him a sufficient quantity of a certain gum called ubani. In perfect silence he then kindles a fire by means of the primitive appliance of the drill (to be described later on). The dust produced by boring catches fire, but the glimmer is at first so faint that it is scarcely perceptible even to the keen eyesight of the savage. Very carefully he blows on the tiny spark—it grows, catches the bunch of dry grass and then the sticks, and when the flame leaps up, he drops his powder into it. The flame now burns dimly, a thick smoke rises, and the man takes the amulets he is accustomed to wear round his neck, arms and waist, and holding them in the smoke, says: “You moon, a little while ago you were not there, and the sky was dark. Now you are there and shine down brightly. All beasts and plants are glad and have new strength, so let my medicine also have new strength.” Then he prays thus: “Let the medicine protect my body against lions and serpents, against witchcraft and everything that may hurt me, and let my body have new strength.” Once more he swings his charms through the smoke, as it becomes thinner and more transparent; the fire dies down, and as noiselessly as he came the man creeps back to his hut.
FRESCO ON THE WALL OF A HUT AT AKUNDONDE’S, REPRESENTING TWO EUROPEANS WITH THEIR ESCORT: THE WORK OF A YAO BOY