Chapter Nine.
The Love Charm.
“Fetch me that flower; the herb I showed thee once;
The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid,
Will make or man or woman madly dote
Upon the next live creature that it sees.”
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
“Ca, ’mntan ’am (no, my child), I am too old, as you can see for yourself; my memory is no longer good, and all these things happened so very long ago. Besides, you have not yet told me why you want me to talk about these old days, you white people are so wise you cannot require to learn from an old woman such as I. Hear him now, what can the great people who live beyond the sea in those big houses you show me the shadows (pictures) of, and of which I never can tell the top from the bottom, want to know about the dead and gone Bacas? Yes, yes, I have heard all this before from you, and you know I only promised to talk on condition that you told me the true reason why you wanted to write down my words.
“You white people are very sly; you know most things, yet one thing you are always trying to learn, all of you: the magic of the native. And what is our magic compared with yours? With us the ‘isanuse’ (witch-doctor) calls to all in a loud voice, boasting of what he knows, yet you ‘abelungu’ (white people) are for ever trying to persuade the natives that you are not wizards. Don’t tell me. Does not one of you speak with your mouth close to the end of an iron string at Umzimkulu, while another listens at Matatièlè where the string passes over the big poles, and hear the words spoken? and this over a distance which it takes a man six days to walk. I know myself that such is the case, because when my grand-daughter’s baby was born at Umzimkulu last spring, did I not learn it from the pink paper which the constable read to me on the same day. I asked Rachel particularly about the date afterwards, and she swore to me that the child was born two days before the new moon, and that was the day on which the constable came.
“Did you not yourself open the eye of a box at me, with a click, and show me the next day the water-shadow of myself upon paper; and was not the very torn place in my blanket, which I had not yet mended, there too? Magic, I know magic when I see it.
“Yes, I am very old. I remember, like it were yesterday, the time when Ncapay was killed by the Pondos, when he and his ‘impi’ were driven over the cliff on the Umzimvubu, and I have seen our chief, Makaula, herding calves when he was a boy. My first husband was old Palelo (he died when I was away at Umzimkulu), and my second was Momlotyolo, who got his head broken with a club in a fight with the Pondomisi. He came home with his head tied up, and laid himself down on a mat. Next day he could not speak. He lay snoring for five days, and then died in a fit. I had only been married to him three years, and we had three children. The first was a girl, she died when still a child, and the second a boy whom we called Tutani. He was drowned trying to cross the Umzimvubu after a beer-drink.
“The first time I was married? That is long ago, and I have almost forgotten all about it. We were then living in what is now Cweraland. I was quite a young girl when old Palelo took me as his wife. Yes, he had six other wives then living, and several others had died. Palelo was a very old man, but he was rich and my father was poor. Eighteen head of cattle were given as my dowry, and a new hut was built for me. In this hut old Palelo nearly lived for two years, and I was quite glad when I heard that he was paying ‘lobola’ for another girl, as I knew that when he married her, he’d leave me alone for a time.
“Who told you that I went to Umzimkulu? So, so, I had forgotten mentioning it. Well, I suppose I may as well tell you everything about it now, because you might hear it spoken of by others who do not know all that happened, and thus come to think evil of me, not knowing that it was Lamla’s fault, and that I was blameless.
“You have heard of the charm which a man places upon a woman to make her follow him. Perhaps you do not believe in such things, eh? I thought not. It is strange what a lot of true things you wise people disbelieve in. Well, well, if you do not believe in such things why do you want to hear about them? I think I know the reason, but it runs on a different spoor to that of your words. Whether you believe in them or not, these things exist. I have lived much longer than you in spite of the drought on the top of your head, and I have not only seen, but experienced the effect of such a charm. No, no, although you are old enough to know better, you are also old enough to have seen that the eyes of a young woman do not shine on you as on younger men, and this knowledge might lead you into mischief.