On our return to Lydenburg most of the members of the expedition were paid off. We had lost only one man; he perished in a grass fire in the low country.
I often wonder as to what has been the fate of my companions. Some few I have heard of; only three have I since foregathered with. Two of the latter I know to be dead. The others are—where?
My one-time comrades, I salute you—or your shades. Taking into account the kind of men you were, the way you lived and moved and had your being, and the fact that you were all so much older than I, few should, in the natural course of events, be still alive. A short, but by no means a merry, life is the usual lot of such as you. May your spirits have found that rest which could never have been their portion on earth. Vale!
Chapter Fourteen.
Kaffir Music.
If one were to ask the average inhabitant of South Africa whether the Bantu tribes have any national music, the reply would almost surely be in the negative. It is known that the mission-trained native sometimes develops remarkable singing powers, and that he picks up part-music with strange facility; but in his natural state the native is supposed only to exercise his vocal powers in the “tshotsha,” which is a lugubrious sound generated deep down in the throat, and suggests a commingling of the notes of the corn-crake with the noise made by the wind in streaming over the open bunghole of an empty barrel.
Nevertheless, the Bantu possesses a music of his own; but this can only be heard, as a rule, if one frequent the celebration of his tribal ceremonies.
Many of the native songs and chants are very intricate compositions, in which the different parts are adjusted to each other with ingenious nicety. Such part-songs are probably extremely old, and have reached their present development very gradually.