“Ignole yangala yangala meme mtuleke tuwakuhiyoloka.”
The sense appears to be about the following:—
“You are here assembled (for the unyago), rejoice and be merry. We who have come here, we do not want to play with you, only to look on.”
If Sefu is right, as there is every reason to suppose, these words are to be understood as spoken by myself, they are either dictated by my own delicacy of feeling: “I have no wish to intrude”—or they are intended as a captatio benevolentiæ: “Please stay at a distance, white man, or we shall be afraid!”
In spite of my discreet attitude, the performers do not seem to feel quite easy, for they now sing till they grow tired:—
“Nidoba ho, nidoba ho.” (“It is difficult, it is difficult, truly.”)
This is followed by a long pause.
The second division of the programme goes on to repeat part of the first. Still more completely muffled in their brightly-coloured cloths, so that neither face nor arms are to be seen, the five girls come forward as before, and march round to the right, the rest of the company following them in the same order as previously. Now the drums, which in the meantime have been tuned afresh over a tremendous fire, strike up again, and the chorus starts: “Chihakatu cha Kuliwile,” etc., with dance as before. This lasts fully half-an-hour, and then the long file breaks up; the oldest of the instructresses comes forward into the open space in front of the crowd, puts on a critical expression, and waits for what is about to happen. This is not long in showing itself. Like a gorgeous butterfly, one of the coloured calico bundles separates itself from the mass, and trips gracefully before the old woman, while the chorus bursts into song:—
“Nande è è, nande è è.”
The astonished white man, looking on, can only see clearly the head and feet of the bundle, which are comparatively at rest—everything between these extremities being an undistinguishable blur. On boldly approaching, I make out that the girl is vibrating her waist and hips, throwing herself to and fro with such velocity that the eye cannot follow the lines of her figure. The performer retires after a time, and the others follow, each in her turn, receiving praise or censure from the high authorities convoked for the occasion. But not even Sefu can tell me what the words of the song mean.