CHAPTER XII
I meet Labotsibeni again—Flattering a savage queen—Explaining the "little black magic box"—Curing rheumatism with tooth-paste, vaseline, and hair oil—Women as currency—Gin, gold, and cows pay for the picture rights—The "flu" strikes—Jennie, the "blaau app", and the peacocks' tails.
From Mbabane it is only a short distance to the top of the mountain from which the descent is made into Ezulweni, the beautiful Valley of Heaven. As we reached the top I pointed out Sheba's Breasts and the Place of Execution to my companions. These peaks could be seen far off to the right, where the sun picked them out in the early morning mist.
Coming down the mountain was hard work, the grade being one in four at many places. We walked, because it would only have made it harder for the mules if we had kept our seats in the wagonette. At the bottom of the steep trail stands the place of Harry Niles, an old-time trader who has settled down there. He has a picturesque little home and has surrounded the house with banana trees, papayas, and semi-tropical fruits. Niles is a charming old man who retired from active business to live out his remaining years in this garden spot. He has no interest in outside affairs and lives an ideal existence, if one likes that sort of thing. His likes and dislikes are quickly expressed, and this is probably one of the reasons that make him contented with his life of isolation. If he likes you, however, he can be more hospitable than any one I know. He will feed you with the most delicious salads, fresh meat, and other delicacies, and there is always something rare to drink. His salads are famous, so that his few friends in Mbabane often make the hard trek to his little home to share one of them.
Coming into the Valley of Heaven from Mbabane, instead of from Rietvlei, made it a much shorter distance to Zombode. We wanted to get there as soon as possible, since we had already been delayed by the wretched weather, so we only had a drink with Niles and then pushed on. He told me that he had heard that the Swazis were getting ready to acknowledge Sebuza as king, but he had no definite information about it.
"What's more," he added, "I don't give a damn! Just so long as these royal niggers keep out of my way I'll keep out of theirs. They know better than to bother me, and it makes no difference to me who is king!"
Shortly before we came in sight of Zombode, Oom Tuys came riding down the trail. A Swazi runner had brought word that we were coming, and my uncle had come out to meet me. I was very glad to see him and he was as cheerful as ever. He told me that he had had no difficulty in getting into Swaziland, as he had come in through Komatipoort, but he understood that word had gone to Mbabane that he was at Zombode and he wanted to cut his stay as short as possible.
"It is a shame that the great British Empire should hound one poor lone Boer trader," he said, his eyes twinkling, "and I feel very much afraid. I hate to disturb the peace of mind of the High Commissioner, so I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary."
Then he began to plan with me how to get our business over as quickly as possible. I had not been to Swaziland since my youth, and things were different now. Instead of our being met by a welcoming party of indunas, only a few curious savages and a horde of children came out to watch us arrive. The former proud formality of the royal kraal seemed lacking, and when I asked Tuys about it he explained that since Queen Labotsibeni had become blind "the old customs had gone to seed."
There was still one formality about seeing her, however. This consisted of announcing your presence by sending her a bottle of gin and then waiting until she sent for you. Tuys explained to me that the old queen was terribly vain and desired, above all things, to be flattered. She liked to pretend that she could still see, and Tuys warned me under no circumstances to admit that I thought she could not.