The destruction of the "gods"—Mohurrum festival—is one of the great holidays of the Indians in Natal. This is the closing climax of a Mohammedan ten-day festival. The festival takes place each year, which shows that Indians do not worship stale gods, as a new one comes into existence ten days after the drowning of the old gods. The gods on this occasion were drowned in the Umgeni River, about three miles from Durban.
The fantastic hearses, in design a strange mixture of mosque and pagoda, made up of bamboo framework covered with bright colored paper and lavishly decorated with tinsel and gaudy ornaments, most of them surmounted by the star and crescent on a dome, emblematic of the Moslem faith, were followed by Indian women in brightly colored garments, and grotesquely painted men scantily clad in loin cloths, weird headpieces, and other trappings, who conveyed the gods to the river. Above the noise that followed this gay holiday crowd, bent on the destruction of Indian gods, could be heard the monotonous and ear-racking din of the tomtom, together with a prehistoric bagpipe here and there, and these were the only musical instruments in use to demonstrate the feelings of this motley crowd. The pagodas are called "taboots," and when these came to a halt—they were drawn by men—the "tigers," men besmeared with lead, ochre and yellow-colored mud and grease from head to foot, would give exhibitions of contortions, which must have been pleasing to the slowly moving gods. At the river where the gods were to meet their death had gathered a great crowd of Indians, natives and Europeans to witness the last part played in the Mohurrum fast and festival. "Taboot" after "taboot" was tipped and hurled into the stream, after the priests had taken rice and other grain from it, which they tossed into a small fire burning in an urn. The shallow river was swarming with youngsters, and no sooner had a "taboot" reached the water than the boys were at it, and in a short time it was a shapeless wreck.
On the shore of the Indian Ocean a group of Hindus were observing a repulsive form of the Buddhist religion. About a dozen in number, they assembled round a brass urn, six inches across and three deep, in which burned an oil fire. Half of this number formed what we may call an orchestra. Two of the instruments were tomtoms and the others rounded pieces of wood, bored out, as large as a croquet ball, and with brass bells attached. These were put over the players' hands, rattling as they moved their wrists, the other members at the same time chanting a dump. Close to the urn stood a cone-shaped wooden frame, two feet high and eighteen inches at the base, covered with flowers. To the rear lay three live hens, with strings tied to their legs.
The Hindus then started toward the water to the accompaniment of bells and tomtoms. Leading were three men, the one between, who appeared nervous, being aided by those on each side. One of the trio had thick, black hair reaching to the waist, but none wore head covering. When the three had waded in up to the armpits, the center man was ducked a number of times. The music then ceased for a short period, after which all returned to the urn. The Indian who had been immersed turned out to be a convert to this fanatical sect.
The orchestra resumed the chant, the man with the long hair and the convert kneeling by the fire, the third one, a priest, standing. The former began bending his body backward and forward, his head touching the sand at each movement, also running his fingers through his hair. The convert followed the actions of the other. Both worked themselves into a state of weakness, verging on collapse, during which their hands, at times, came in contact with the flame in the urn, but none of the members made any effort to turn their hands from the fire, which, of course were burned. At this stage of the ceremony both men, their eyes rolling and only the whites showing, lay on the sand, exhausted. The chant ceased. The priest approached the apparently lifeless Indians with a phial in his hands. He next placed the open end of the bottle to the nose of one, then to the other, the Hindus raising themselves to their knees as the orchestra resumed.
The half-revived convert then put out his tongue, the priest advancing with what looked like an oyster fork in his hand. The orchestra stopped—all was silent. He next took hold of the dazed, hand-burnt disciple's tongue in one hand, and forced the tines of the fork through that member with the other; then, quickly stepping to the cone, took two flowers—lavender and yellow in color—and, returning, put one flower on top of the tongue, the other underneath. No blood flowed from the penetrated member. The Hindu stood up, apparently in a trance, his tongue spiked. The priest again alertly stepped back and returned with a chicken, snapping the hen's head off as if cut with a scissors. The blood from the headless fowl was sprinkled over the convert; then another hen was brought, killed likewise, its blood also being sprayed over the supplicant, when the orchestra played. The follower next bended to his knees, after which the flower cone was lifted on his head. He rose; then the group, to the accompaniment of the "music," walked over sand dunes in the direction of a mosque, where, it was said, the fork would be withdrawn from the inducted Asiatic's tongue.
The Zulu ricksha puller is the most striking feature of that interesting city to a visitor, as he proves an object of much curiosity and admiration. He is in a class by himself. In stature, he stands from 5 feet 6 inches to 6 feet 4 inches; in color, darker than a mulatto, but not black; with bare legs, strong, muscular and fleet of foot; generally ready to smile, showing his perfect teeth; standing between two shafts by which he draws the ricksha, watching eagerly for a fare—this gives but a meager illustration of the Zulu ricksha puller.
The Zulu reaches the culmination of vanity when he has fixed himself up to look like, and to imitate the actions of, an ox, horse or mule, for he has a veneration for these dumb animals. The larger the horns he can wear, which are secured to a piece of cloth that fits tight to the head, the better he is pleased. A number of long feathers often extend from between the horns, and vari-colored grass and thin reeds, also attached to the same place, fall to and below the waistline. Added to this head adornment, calabashes, sometimes as large as a cantaloupe, protrude from the side of his head. His jacket, sleeveless, which bears designs of plaids and squares, resembling a checker-board, extends midway between thigh and knee. His pants are a slit knickerbocker, also extending to halfway between thigh and knee, but from the hem fall strips of red braid six inches below. The pants are split to allow his legs freedom when drawing the vehicle.
The ricksha puller is eternally trying to think of something fantastic and grotesque to wear. One fellow may be seen with his legs and feet painted blue, representing the sky, with white spots dotted here and there to represent stars, another with both legs painted white. At times one leg is painted red and the other white. Also may be seen, fastened to the puller's horns, the skull of a calf or sheep, or perhaps of a monkey. Monkey skins, with tails attached, are worn, one in front and the other on the back. Again, a discarded plug hat may be hung on one horn and an empty vegetable can on the other while he is pulling a passenger about the city. Sometimes his head looks like a small flower garden, as he is seen trundling his ricksha about with bright red hibiscus and carnations sticking out of his black, woolly head at the top and from the sides. At night a small light—generally a candle—attached to the axle of his sulky, may be seen at the sides of streets and showing from dark alleys or from under a spreading tree. The puller will jingle the little bell on the shafts of his ricksha to attract the attention of a passerby. The weird trappings, with the dim outline of the Zulu, together with his long horns showing from the darkness, will not inspire confidence in one unfamiliar with the native puller. In short, he appears fantastically inhuman by day and grotesquely brutish by night. His physique, however, is an object of admiration; mentally, he is a child.
The ricksha is a two-wheeled, two-shaft sulky, with rubber tired wheels, upholstered, and will seat two persons. A hood is attached to the seating box like that of a carriage. A small bell hangs from one of the shafts, which the puller sounds to give warning of his coming. Under, from the center of the axle depends a bar of iron with a small wheel at the end. This bar prevents passengers from falling out if the ricksha should tip while going up hill. The service is good and the fare cheap—from 6 to 50 cents—the different fare stages being printed on a card. Like every one engaged in similar occupations, the puller knows a stranger, and succeeds often in getting more than the just fare from men, but women generally ask for the schedule card.