Again it is night—the outline of the great wood-pile is just recognizable in the faint light. About an hour after midnight, a tall, gaunt figure rises from the circle of prostrate figures wrapped in their sleeping-mats. Silently it glides up to the pile, a little flame flashes up, to disappear again; but soon there is a fresh crackling; the flame, in the draught produced by the rhythmic pulsations of a fan, grows and strengthens. Now we recognize the figure—it is that of the munchira. In a few minutes the whole large pile is a sheet of flame, its flickering, quivering lights dancing on the shining faces of the men standing round in a circle. The fire having now burnt up brightly, the munchira walks quickly round it, and, his face turned to the pile, utters the following words:—“Let the wounds of the boys heal soon and painlessly, and let the chief who is keeping the likumbi this year find the boys do him credit in after life.” At the same time he ties a white rag to a pole, and fans the fire with powerful strokes. The men remain standing round it, watching it as it dies down, till broad daylight.
Fire, as the central point in a ceremony which cuts so deeply into social life as do the celebrations of puberty among these tribes, is so far as I know quite an isolated phenomenon among the peoples of Africa. Have we here a case of genuine fire-worship, or are the walk round the fire and the address to it only the last unconscious survivals of a cult prevalent in ancient times? I do not know, and, to speak frankly, cannot even say where the answer to this question may be looked for. We must not a priori assume it to be impossible that the Makonde should once have been fire-worshippers; we know far too little as yet of their social evolution. The abundant results of my inquiries up to this point are the best proof that unexpected discoveries are yet in store for us.
MASKED DANCE AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI
In the male sex the transition from childhood to the status of fully-qualified maturity is a single, definite process, though extending over a long period. The memory of rejoicings and sufferings experienced in common is preserved henceforth among the men by means of a free, voluntary association known as the “age-class.” All those who have passed through the unyago in the same year stand by each other till death severs the connection. This connection, however, must be thought of in terms of African conditions; there is no society or club, or the like, and the sole obligation incurred by the old friends is that every one of them is bound to offer hospitality to any of the others who may come to his village. Secret societies no longer consciously influence the character of the age-classes here in the East, though the reverse is the case in West Africa where the two things go hand in hand, acting and reacting on each other as cause and effect, and both finding their common outward expression in great festivals with masked dances and other mysterious accessories calculated to terrify the women and the uninitiated men. Here on the Makonde plateau, the three phenomena—the age-classes, the festivals and the masked dances—are at the present day not very closely connected together; yet everything leads to the conclusion that the masked dance now in use among the Makonde was originally the outcome of a long-forgotten system of secret societies, similar to the quite analogous institutions of Kamerun, Upper Guinea, and Loango. There is many a knotty problem yet to be solved in this department of African ethnography.
The girls’ unyago is a graduated series of courses of instruction. I have purposely emphasized the word instruction, as there is nothing here in the nature of a surgical operation, with a single exception in the case of the Makua. In all the tribes each girl is given for the whole period of the unyago into the charge of a special teacher, who remains her friend through life. Under the guidance of these older women, the novices in the first place go through a curriculum very much resembling that of the boys. The children are unreservedly enlightened as to all sexual relations, and have to learn everything connected with married life. They are also taught all the rules which govern intercourse between members of the same tribe, and above all of the same family.
There is an opening and a closing ceremony for this first course of the girls’ initiation. I was able personally to observe the revels which take place on such occasions, at all three of the places where I had the opportunity of making the chiputu (or echiputu) illustrious by my presence. The phenomenal thirst shown is quite explained by the amount of dancing gone through.
WOMAN OF THE MAKONDE TRIBE
After the mysteries, both boys and girls in due course become marriageable, but I have not succeeded in ascertaining, even approximately, the age at which this is the case. Individuals are always out of measure astonished when asked their age, and their relatives are profoundly indifferent on the subject. In general, marriage takes place very early, as is proved by the very young mothers who may be seen in any large assemblage of people, and who are mostly no further developed than German girls at their confirmation. Matola tells me that the form of marriage known as masange was formerly very prevalent, in which young children of from five to seven were united, huts being built for them to live in. This custom is said still to be practised occasionally.[[58]] The same informant states that it is very common for one woman, who has just had a child to say to a neighbour expecting a like event, “I have a son—if you have a daughter, let him marry her”; and this, in due course, is done.