But Mogabe is in my good books, for he gave me permission to move some Makalanga graves made in certain of the passages on the Acropolis. Bent merely told Chipfuno that he was going to move the selfsame graves, and he at once withdrew all the labourers, and this not only caused Bent considerable difficulty, but he was not afterwards allowed to open the passages. Twelve years later Mogabe gives his consent on the understanding that he is given half a cup of salt, that the remains were to be properly re-interred, and that the boys who did the work should be allowed to go to their kraals to purify themselves. This purification is no mere excuse, but is an actual cleansing of those engaged in this particular undertaking. The boys informed me that until they had washed they could not eat, and that their fellows would keep away from them. The bones were not touched by hand, but were moved with two sticks. Once I picked up a solid copper bangle, which must have come, judging by the presence of scattered human bones, from some grave disturbed years previously by some excavator for relics. The boys were genuinely horrified when I touched it, but more so when I put it on my wrist. They said I must take it off at once and wash myself, and this horror at what I had done possessed them for several days and was a constant theme of conversation.
Tjiya! (cease work!) is sounded, and the boys take up the cry, and spring like chased buck helter-skelter through the western entrance into the hot, sultry atmosphere, singing, laughing, yelling, and caterwauling, just like boys let out of school. The relentlessly broiling heat and glare of noontide make one long for the beautifully cool shade of the huts.
Arrived at the camp, some of the boys lie at full length on the hot boulders and so take sun-baths, others resume their own carving or other work, some make music, or play with dollasses, or fence, while the majority gather round the various sets of game-holes and play isafuba, but there is a camp rule, found by experience to be necessary, that isafuba cannot be played until the cooks state that the pots have commenced to boil. So fascinating is this game that formerly we found the cooking operations often became neglected.
Isafuba is one of a group of games, the origin of which is explained on pages 79, 80 of The Ancient Ruins of Rhodesia. In our camp are several sets of game-holes; one set has four rows of sixteen holes each, and another two rows of twelve holes. This last is generally patronised by the picaninnies. Some of the isafuba games have different moves, numbers of holes and counters, and the games vary slightly in different districts.
From two to five players sit on each side. Each of the partners on either side appears to have an equal right of moving the counters. The two lines of holes near each set of partners is not intruded upon by the counters of the opponents, but opponents clutch up the counters of the opposite side when such counters have no counter either in the hole behind or in front, and this snatching up of counters is governed by rules which in some moves closely resemble those of chess, while double counters in a hole are as influential as kings in draughts.
Some of the moves strongly remind one of “fox and geese,” each side moving in turn, and later in the game, when the holes are full of counters, each side chases the other along parallel lines of holes to the end of the set. This chasing is a cause of great excitement, and is concluded in a perfect babel of shouting, each player as he moves a counter in the chase calling out in-da! and when the final hole is reached, ga!
Always while in camp there is a perpetual shouting of in-da! in-da! in-da! followed by the triumphant shout of ga! The subject of heated discussion during the game is as to the amount of cheating the other side has effected, and the tumult caused by the discussion of this topic, especially with an extraordinarily talkative people like the Makalangas, can only be but partially imagined. The perpetual in-da! in-da! in-da!—ga! trespasses into one’s dreamland. After a week of this never-ceasing in-da! the sets of holes were ordered to be removed to a more reasonable distance from the hut door; still, one cannot even now escape this perpetual and monotonous din. Yet in all their excited disputations they have never once got beyond mere words. The picaninnies sometimes join in at the larger sets, but a prompter always assists them.
It is the custom for the losers, and not the victors, to record the state of the series of games. This is done by placing large stones, one for each game lost, on the side where the losers sit. The losers invariably have to provide the stones. When all the large stones within arm’s reach have been used up as records and the losers have to get up to fetch a stone, there is general laughter in the camp, even from those who are not immediately watching the game. The stakes are for “sisspences,” or for doro (native beer), but both winners and losers share alike. Towards the end of a month, when wages are becoming due, the game causes increased excitement, and plenty of doro is brewed by speculative villagers to meet the probable demands of the boys.[24]
The two most pernicious vices of the Makalanga are their inveterate love of I’daha (wild hemp) smoking, and of doro drinking.
The former acts as opium, and incapacitates for work, dulls the intellect, destroys every atom of will-power, and tends, if persisted in, to shorten life. An I’daha smoker is readily known by the glazed look in his eyes, and by his miserable appearance. On our arrival here I’daha pipes were introduced into the camp, but they were very soon destroyed, and the smoking of I’daha is now an offence punishable by dismissal without mali (money). This rule has effected a great improvement in the general tone of the men and in their capacities for work. So injurious to brain and health is this vice that in some parts of South Africa I’daha smoking is prohibited under a penalty. One of the most distressing features of this practice is the painful fit of loud coughing which always follows the use of the pipe.