It was some time before I could get any explanation of the object and meaning of these figures, which I had also seen before coming to Newala. This kind of therapeutics can only be understood if the native’s views as to a life after death and the action of supernatural powers are considered as a whole. In his belief human life by no means ceases with death. It is true that the body is buried and decomposes, but the soul lives on, and that in the same locality where it was active during life. Its favourite abode is a conspicuous tree. The religion of these southern tribes is thus distinctly tree-worship, in so far as the natives sacrifice and pray to their deceased ancestors by laying food and drink at the foot of such a tree, and addressing their petitions to its crown.
LANDSCAPE ON THE ROVUMA. VIEW FROM MY CAMP UP THE RIVER, IN LONG. 39° 6′ E.
The msolo tree (in Makonde mholo) is the one here distinguished as the abode of the gods. To this tree the native goes when there is sickness in his family, or when he is about to undertake a long journey, or go on the war-path. He does not come empty-handed, but decorates the trunk with coloured stuff, so that, with all the gaudy rags previously fastened there by other distressed petitioners, the spectacle presented is more curious than beautiful. He sweeps the ground about the tree with a bunch of leaves, sprinkles flour on it, and pours strengthening pombe into the jar placed there for the purpose. These are the voluntary offerings of the living. But the giver being only human, and not only human, but African, expects a quid pro quo on the part of the dead. “I have given you cloth and brought you meal and beer; you, my ancestor, know that we are going to war against our enemies the Mavia. We are to march to-morrow; let no bullet strike me, no arrow, and no spear.” The tree rustles in the evening breeze, and the believer departs reassured.
But the souls do not always live in the msolo tree. As a rule, they are restlessly wandering about the country, and naturally prefer the main roads, as they did while in the flesh. There, and above all in places where several roads meet, they are most commonly to be found, and their protection is most likely to be successfully invoked. This at least is the best explanation that occurs to me of the flour offering being made by preference at the cross-roads. The sick see the possibility of cure only, or at least principally, in the help of the ancestral spirits who are presumably endowed with greater powers than they enjoyed in this life. What, therefore, is more natural than to sacrifice to these spirits at the spots which they may be supposed to pass most frequently, at the cross-roads and at the junction of two paths? This is the view taken by my informants, in which I am quite disposed to concur; it seems extremely probable, while at the same time I admit that there may conceivably be another idea underlying the flour circles.
The planting of special trees at the graves seems to be closely connected with tree-worship. In the plains—and among the Yaos in particular—I noticed no such trees, but here on the plateau they are very common. On recent graves I find young, slender saplings; in other spots, where only the old men remember that anyone is buried, there are enormous trees with mighty trunks sixty feet high and more. More than one place near the boma of Newala is rendered solemnly impressive by a number of such old sepulchral trees. The tree is the one called kamuna, and is always planted at the head of the grave.
TREES IN THE BURYING-GROUND AT NEWALA
Whether the natives believe that the spirit has its abode for a time in these trees, I have hitherto been unable to make out. In fact, it is exceedingly difficult to get any definite statements at all as to the abiding-place of the soul. The Yaos gave no information whatever on this point. The Makua said: “The shadow of the man goes to God, and God lives up there.” But what the shadow does “up there,” and how it fares in that mysterious abode, they, too, do not know. The ghost stories current among the natives of these parts are horrible and awe-inspiring enough, to judge by the specimens I have heard. I will give one of them. Both Wayao and Wamakua have a ghost called itondosha (or in Yao, ndondosha). If a magician has killed a child—like all peoples in the primitive stage, the African does not look on death as a natural occurrence, but always attributes it to magical practices—he takes it out of the grave, brings it to life again, and cuts off both legs at the knee-joint. The sorcerer throws away the severed limbs, and sets the mutilated body of the child secretly in a certain place. Then people come from every direction and bring the itondosha porridge, beer, fruits and cloth. If this is done regularly and in sufficient quantities, nothing more is heard of the ghost, but if the people, as time goes on, forget it, it suddenly raises piercing and uncanny shrieks, which frighten the people and cause them to renew their offerings to the itondosha.[[64]]
With the usual good fortune which has attended my inquiries, I obtained possession, quite accidentally, of a song referring to this itondosha. This was given me by Anastasio, or as he called himself, Anestehiu,[[65]] a pupil of the Universities’ Mission, who distinguished himself among the inhabitants of Newala by his willingness to face my phonograph. His zeal, indeed, was more conspicuous than his musical ability, but his services to the cause of science deserve recognition all the same.