Yankee Girls in Zulu Land

by Louise Vescelius Sheldon

A Kafir will find a spring of water in places where a white man would never think of looking for it, but that day there was no water to be found, and we positively suffered from thirst. The sun beat down on us all fiercer than ever, it seemed, and it was not till late in the afternoon that we came to a small muddy stream. The mud did not frighten us, and we hurried the boys into making the coffee.

One of our boys had been in the jail at Smithfield, for some petty misdemeanour, and was discharged in order that he might come with our staff. He was a raw Kafir about fourteen years of age, with a comical, laughing face, which peered up at us oddly as he sat on the footboard of the wagon. He had a funny little squeaking voice which at times would play him tricks; when apparently about to come forth in a manly roar, it would suddenly result in a shrill, piping sound, which would throw all the servants into fits of laughter. He used to perch himself surreptitiously on the disselboem, against the orders of “the baas,” in the cool of the evening, as we jolted along in the moonlight, and croon out in Kafir, awfully out of tune, “Sweet bye and bye,” a favourite song of the Sunday-school Kafirs. The missionaries’ service with the Kafir, it may be said, is mostly a service of song. We soon became tired of his one tune, and sang it for him correctly; but he evidently considered that our musical education had been neglected, for directly we had finished he started again, singing it in his own way.

On very hot days we used to contrive an awning on the shady side of the wagon, under which we would sit and read or make lazy attempts at sewing. But the silence of the stilly veldt, broken only by the hum of some buzzing insect, would more often put us to sleep. If our existence was not one of contentment, then there is no such thing. We became enamoured of the life and had no desire to hasten on our journey. Some of the happiest days of our lives were spent during this trip, free from society, anxiety, and propriety. There was no one to dress for, nor to come suddenly upon us and disturb our calm existence. When three girls make up their minds to be contented under all difficulties, difficulties disappear. They can make their surroundings pretty and can make the rough fare attractive. If they have been blessed with a good mother, who has trained them for domestic life, they know how to contrive little accessories which will give a relish to the plainest fare.

Little trouble was experienced with our servants. They were always laughing and looking at our mode of life with the interest of a big dog; they were ludicrously stupid, but they were never sulky or impudent. Our wagon owner and servants slept on the ground wrapped in blankets or “karosses,” infinitely preferring that to sleeping on a cartel under the wagon. When we suggested snakes, they only laughed. These fur robes or “karosses” are light, and when thrown on the ground prevent the ants from reaching those asleep on them. They are brought from the interior, beyond the Zambesi River, by the traders. They are beautifully sewed together by the natives, with thread made from the sinews of wild animals. These furs are beautiful, being the skins of leopard, silver fox, jackal, and wolf, and many other animals. They are very comfortable for travelling on cool nights.

This peaceful region is filled with reptiles and wild animals, but we saw very few of them.

Our boys would often hold wayside receptions for natives in twos and threes, coming from goodness knows where, and others, appearing from the shadows beyond, would surround them, talking rapidly in vowels and strange sounds, and looking on hungrily at the meals being prepared.

As we outspanned near by a farm during the journey, a farm Kafir, with a look and bearing of a prince of the soil, dressed to the knees in a coffee sack, with holes made for arms and head, approached. He stood talking to the boys in an attitude of utter grace. His calm scrutiny of us all was very amusing; just as observing and curious as any city-bred man. He went over to the cactus hedge and cut a pailful of cactus apples. We could not handle one without having our hands pierced with hundreds of the little briers found on them. This Kafir sharpened the end of a long stick, and then stuck it into an apple, and after dexterously peeling it with a sharp knife, he offered it to us, as if it had been a bonbon. We were very thirsty, and we found these cactus apples delicious.

The boys had two dogs with them. One, “Satan,” a forbidding-looking brute, was the remains of what had been a fine Russian water dog, but life in Africa had not agreed with either his appearance or temper. He was a disagreeable brute, but after a time got amiable enough to approach the wagon. Poor little “Stumpy,” the other dog, was the queerest, quaintest little mongrel that ever lived. He would wriggle his little body most absurdly in vain attempts to wag the apology for a tail which had given him his name. If we took any notice of him, he would go mad with delight. He did not know whether to bark, or jump, or gallop, or dance, or stand on his head, and he would try to do them all at once.

One lazy, hot afternoon Eva and I made a wager as to which of us could coax Stumpy to come to her; we went in opposite directions and called him. The poor little dog’s pitiable embarrassment as to which he should follow, his evident dread of losing either or both his friends by favouring one or neither, was very funny. He would go a little way to Eva, then back to me, then stop, then to Eva, then to me, until finally, after attempting to split himself into halves and go to both, he gave it up in despair, and just lay down midway between us and howled, refusing at last to attempt, what so many men have failed to do, to please two women at the same time.