"Wood and iron" houses—corrugated iron mostly—is the style of European homes seen in Zululand. This also will apply quite generally to the country districts of South Africa. A half dozen of these, one story high—a postoffice, three general stores, a court house and a hotel—are the buildings about which the commercial life of Melmoth centers. A church building is generally numbered among these groups, and always a graveyard out of proportion. Many of the hotels of Zululand are built somewhat on the kraal plan. The dining and sitting rooms—sometimes one room answers both purposes—are in a one-story "wood and iron" building. Many of the bedrooms—small houses resting on posts a foot to eighteen inches from the ground—are located a short distance from the main building, which they sometimes half-encircle. Each house, by partitioning, contains several small bedrooms. The beds with which these rooms are furnished are generally half-size iron ones, and the light provided is often a candle.
"Keep to the native trail until you come to that clump of wattle trees," directed the driver of the post cart when ten miles from Melmoth on my return to Ginginhlovu. A printer who had got tired of the smell of printers' ink moved to Zululand to make his living in the dual capacity of farmer and trader. So, with a grip in my hand, I started over the Zulu trail to the clump of trees in the distance. I had not gone far when I heard a shout, but could not tell whence it came. It may be the natives telegraphing the start of an uprising, I mused. "Halloa!" was again heard, and, looking in another direction, a wide-brimmed hat was looming over the arch of a grassy hill. It was the printer. The post cart driver had "set me down," as a Britisher would say, at the wrong trail.
"The natives wouldn't sell me any chickens when I first came here, so I wouldn't sell them any goods unless they paid for them with chickens," was one of the difficulties the printer-trader recounted in his effort to hew his way in Zululand.
"Sarah," addressing his wife, "come with us this afternoon while we visit the natives' huts, as you can speak the language better than I," obligingly suggested the sturdy trader, who had beaten freight trains over the United States, sailed before the mast, and had tramped the desert of West Australia to the gold mines at Coolgardie.
Through the trader's wife we chatted with the Zulu women hoeing corn, with their pickaninnies on their backs. Later we squeezed through the small entrances into hut after hut. The lady of the Zulu home explained how the natives winnowed the mealy meal by blowing the dust or bran from it with their breath when passing from the hands, to lodge in a wooden bowl under; how they stirred the meal; explained their scanty washing outfit, how the wives got along together, and other interesting features of Zulu life. After spending several interesting days at the printer-trader's home, it was time to say good-by; and I left with a keen feeling of indebtedness for the unstinted hospitality and kindness shown me.
"I've kept my word—I've got the eggs!" remarked Graham when we had pulled up at his place for luncheon on the return trip.
With pages left unwritten of the Zulu, the strongest, most intelligent and best built tribe of the Bantu race, we will leave the sailor's place for Eshowe, take the post cart to Ginginhlovu, and return by rail to Durban.
CHAPTER IV
My first introduction to South Africa railway travel took place on my initial trip to Johannesburg. The compartment type of corridor carriage, as passenger coaches are termed, with an aisle at the side, similar to that of Great Britain, is in use. Meter gauge—3 feet 6 inches—is the standard of that country, 14 inches narrower than what is known as "standard gauge"—4 feet 8 inches—in the United States and in some of the European countries. The narrow spaces of the compartment (6 by 6½ feet) inclined one to wish for a two person seat. Two out of a filled compartment have direct access to a window—the two passengers whose seats are the outside end ones. Most travelers have seats reserved, in some instances a week in advance, their names being written on a card on the outside of the car at the compartment assigned.