Title: Kaffir Folk-Lore : A selection from the traditional tales current among the people living on the eastern border of the Cape Colony with copious explanatory notes
Author: Theal, Geo. Mc Call
Language: English
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                           KAFFIR FOLK-LORE:

                 A Selection from the Traditional Tales

                   CURRENT AMONG THE PEOPLE LIVING ON
                 THE EASTERN BORDER OF THE CAPE COLONY


                                  WITH
                       COPIOUS EXPLANATORY NOTES.


                                   BY
                          GEO. Mc CALL THEAL,
           AUTHOR OF “A HISTORY OF THE COLONIES AND STATES OF
                             SOUTH AFRICA.”

                            SECOND EDITION.

                                LONDON:
                  SWAN SONNENSCHEIN, Le BAS & LOWREY,
                          PATERNOSTER SQUARE.
                                 1886.



PREFACE.


Of late years a great deal of interest has been taken in the folklore
of uncivilized tribes by those who have made it their business to study
mankind. It has been found that a knowledge of the traditionary tales
of a people is a key to their ideas and a standard of their powers of
thought. These stories display their imaginative faculties; they are
guides to the nature of the religious belief, of the form of
government, of the marriage customs, in short, of much that relates to
both the inner and the outer life of those by whom they are told.

These tales also show the relationship between tribes and peoples of
different countries and even of different languages. They are evidences
that the same ideas are common to every branch of the human family at
the same stage of progress. On this account, it is now generally
recognised that in order to obtain correct information concerning an
uncivilized race, a knowledge of their folklore is necessary. Without
this a survey is no more complete than, for instance, a description of
the English people would be if no notice of English literature were
taken.

It is with a view of letting the people we have chosen to call Kaffirs
describe themselves in their own words, that these stories have been
collected and printed. They form only a small portion of the folklore
that is extant among them, but it is believed that they have been so
selected as to leave no distinguishing feature unrepresented.

Though these traditionary tales are very generally known, there are of
course some persons who can relate them much better than others. The
best narrators are almost invariably ancient dames, and the time chosen
for story telling is always the evening. This is perhaps not so much on
account of the evening being the most convenient time, as because such
tales as these have most effect when told to an assemblage gathered
round a fire circle, when night has spread her mantle over the earth,
and when the belief in the supernatural is stronger than it is by day.
Hence it may easily happen that persons may mix much with Kaffirs
without even suspecting that they have in their possession a rich fund
of legendary lore.

There is a peculiarity in many of these stories which makes them
capable of almost indefinite expansion. They are so constructed that
parts of one can be made to fit into parts of another, so as to form a
new tale. In this respect they are like the blocks of wood in the form
of cubes with which European children amuse themselves. Combined in one
way they present the picture of a lion, another combination shows a map
of Europe, another still, a view of St Paul’s, and so on. So with many
of these tales. They are made up of fragments which are capable of a
variety of combinations.

It will surprise no one to learn that these tales are already
undergoing great changes among a very large section of the natives on
the border. Tens of thousands of Kaffirs have adopted the religion of
the Europeans, and the facility with which such changes can be made as
were alluded to in the last paragraph has encouraged them to introduce
ideas borrowed from their teachers. Thus with them Satan—of whom they
had no conception before the advent of Europeans—is now the prompter to
evil, and morals are drawn that never could have entered their heads in
days of old. Their tales are thus a counterpart of the narrators, in
possessing an adaptability to growth and a power of conformation to
altered circumstances.

It is necessary to say a few words concerning the care that has been
taken to give absolutely not a single sentence in any of these tales
that has not come from native sources. Most of them have been obtained
from at least ten or twelve individuals residing in different parts of
the country, and they have all undergone a thorough revision by a
circle of natives. They were not only told by natives, but were copied
down by natives. The notes only are my own. I have directed the work of
others, but have myself done nothing more than was necessary to explain
the text. For this I can claim to be qualified by an intimate knowledge
of the Kaffir people, gained through intercourse with them during a
period of twenty years, and while filling positions among them varying
from a mission teacher to a border magistrate.

Most of the tales collected in this book have already appeared in
various South African papers and magazines, some as far back as 1874.
They were arranged for publication in a volume which was to have been
issued from the press of the Lovedale Missionary Institution, and the
first sheet was already printed, when the disturbances of 1877 took
place. I was then called away to perform work of a very different kind,
and the publication was necessarily suspended. The book is now issued,
in the hope that it may be found useful, as throwing light upon the
mode of life of a people who differ from ourselves in many respects
besides degree of civilization.


Geo. M. Theal.

Jan. 1882.



CONTENTS.


                                                                PAGE
Introductory Chapter regarding the Kaffirs                         1
The Story of the Bird that made Milk                              29
The Story of Five Heads                                           48
The Story of Tangalimlibo                                         56
The Story of a Girl who disregarded the Custom of Ntonjane        67
The Story of Simbukumbukwana                                      72
The Story of Sikulume                                             78
The Story of Hlakanyana                                           89
The Story of Demane and Demazana                                 118
The Story of the Runaway Children; or, the Wonderful Feather     122
The Story of Ironside and his Sister                             127
The Story of the Cannibal’s Wonderful Bird                       133
The Story of the Cannibal Mother and her Children                137
The Story of the Girl and the Mbulu                              144
The Story of Mbulukazi                                           148
The Story of Long Snake                                          155
The Story of Kenkebe                                             158
The Story of the Wonderful Horns                                 169
The Story of the Glutton                                         172
The Story of the Great Chief of the Animals                      176
The Story of the Hare                                            179
The Story of Lion and Little Jackal                              186
Proverbs and Figurative Expressions                              191
Notes                                                            207



KAFFIR FOLK.

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER REGARDING THE KAFFIRS.


In South Africa the word Kaffir is often used in a general way to
signify any black native who is not the descendant of an imported
slave, but on the eastern frontier of the Cape Colony the term is
usually restricted to a member of the Amaxosa tribe. It is from
individuals of this tribe that the following stories have been
collected.

Europeans have designated these people Kaffirs ever since the discovery
of the country, though they themselves cannot even pronounce the word,
as the English sound of the letter r is wanting in their language. R in
Kaffir words, as now written, represents the same guttural sound as g
does in Dutch, or the Scotch sound of ch in loch; thus Rarabe is
pronounced Khah-khah-bay. They have no word by which to signify the
whole race, but each tribe has its own title, which is usually the name
of its first great chief, with the plural prefix Ama or Aba.

A very large portion of South Africa is occupied by people of this
race. All along the eastern coast, as far south as the Great Fish
River, the country is thickly populated with Kaffir tribes. On the
other side of the mountains, the Bechuanas, their near kindred, are
found stretching almost across to the Atlantic shore, from the heart of
the continent southward to the Orange River.

The country lying between the present colonies of the Cape and Natal
was first explored by Europeans in the year 1688, and was then found to
be occupied by four great tribes,—the Amampondomsi, the Amampondo, the
Abatembu, and the Amaxosa,—who formed nations as distinct from each
other as are the French and the Italians. Their language was the same,
and their laws and customs varied very slightly; but in all that
respected government they were absolutely independent of one another.
It has since been ascertained that the tribes further northward do not
differ materially from these.

The Amaxosa were the farthest to the southward in 1688, as they have
been ever since. On the coast they had then reached the Keiskama River,
and there is good reason to believe that inland their outposts extended
westward as far as the site of the present village of Somerset East.
They were thus in contact with Hottentot tribes along an extended line,
and an amalgamation of the two races had probably already commenced. It
is certain that during the latter half of the last century a great many
Hottentots were incorporated with the Amaxosa.

The mode of incorporation was in most instances a selection of
Hottentot females after the destruction of their clan in war; but in at
least one case a Hottentot tribe became gradually a Kaffir clan by
mixture of blood through adoption of Kaffir refugees. The people of
this tribe, a pure Hottentot one in 1689 and then called the Gqunaqua,
were found by a traveller a century later to resemble Kaffirs more than
Hottentots in appearance, and, except a few families, they are now
undistinguishable from other members of the Amaxosa. Their original
language has been lost, but their old tribal title is yet retained in
the Kaffir form Amagqunukwebe.

This large admixture of Hottentot blood has not affected the mode of
government or the general customs of the Amaxosa, as is seen on
comparing them with other tribes to the north; but it has affected
their personal appearance and their language. Many words in use by the
women, though appearing in a Kaffir form, can be traced to Hottentot
roots. Owing to this, their traditional stories may have been modified
to some, though not to any great, extent

In a condition independent of European control, each Kaffir tribe is
presided over by a great chief, whose government is, however, but
little felt beyond his own immediate clan, each petty division being
under a ruler who is in reality nearly independent. The person of a
chief is inviolable, and an indignity offered to one of them is
considered a crime of the gravest nature. Such offshoots of the ruling
house as are not of themselves chiefs are of aristocratic rank, and are
exempt from obedience to the laws which govern the commonalty. With
regard to the common people, the principle of the law is that they are
the property of the rulers, and consequently an offence against any of
their persons is atoned for by a fine to the chief. Murder and assaults
are punished in this manner. Thus in theory the government is despotic,
but in practice it has many checks. The first is the existence of a
body of councillors about the person of each chief, whose advice he is
compelled to listen to. A second is the custom that a man who can
escape from a chief whose enmity he has incurred will be protected by
any other with whom he takes refuge, so that an arbitrary or unpopular
ruler is in constant danger of losing his followers.

The chief in council makes the law and administers it, but from the
courts of the petty chiefs there is an appeal to the head of the tribe.
Only two kinds of punishment are known: fines and death. Lawsuits are
of frequent occurrence, and many Kaffirs display great ability and
remarkable powers of oratory in conducting them. The judges are guided
in their proceedings by a recognised common law and by precedents,
though some of them are exceedingly venal. They will sit, however, with
exemplary patience, for days together, to hear all the details of a
case, and, where bribery is impossible, their sentences are usually in
accordance with strict justice.

The manner in which the Kaffirs became divided into independent tribes
in ancient times is clearly shown by the law of succession to the
chieftainship which is in force to the present day. The first wives of
a chief are usually the daughters of some of his father’s principal
retainers; but as he increases in power his alliance is courted by
great families, and thus it generally happens that the last of his
wives is the highest in rank. Probably she is the daughter of a
neighbouring chief, for it is indispensable in her case that the blood
of the ruling line should flow in her veins. She is termed the great
wife, and her eldest son is the principal heir.

Another of his wives is invested at some period of his life, with the
consent of his councillors and friends, with the title of wife of the
right hand, and to her eldest son is allotted a portion of the tribe,
with which he forms a new clan. The government of this is entrusted to
him as soon as he is full grown, so that while his brother is still a
child he has opportunities of increasing his power. If he is the abler
ruler of the two, war between them follows almost to a certainty as
soon as the great heir reaches manhood, and is invested with a separate
command. Should peace be maintained, upon the death of his father the
son of the right hand acknowledges his brother as superior in rank, but
pays him no tribute, nor admits of his right to interfere in any manner
with the internal government of the new clan.

Thus there was always a tendency to division and subdivision of the
tribes, which was the great fault of the system. But while it operated
against unity, it tended towards a rapid expansion of the people in a
country where only a slight opposition could be made by the earlier
inhabitants. The less powerful chief of the two would naturally desire
to reside at a considerable distance from his competitor, and thus a
new tract of country would be taken possession of. About six
generations ago a practice was introduced of dividing each tribe into
three sections, by the elevation of a third son to power, with the
title of representative of the ancients. But it was not generally
adopted until Gaika, about the beginning of the present century, gave
it his countenance, since which time this custom has been almost
universally followed by the Amaxosa, so that the number of petty chiefs
and little clans is now very great.

The Kaffir of the coast region is a model of a well-formed man. In
general he is large, without being corpulent, strong, muscular, erect
in bearing, and with all his limbs in perfect symmetry. His skull is
shaped like that of a European; but here the resemblance ends, for his
colour is a deep brown, and his hair is short and woolly. His
intellectual abilities are of no mean order, and his reasoning powers
are quite equal to those of a white man. He is haughty in demeanour,
and possesses a large amount of vanity. For anything approaching
frivolity he has a supreme contempt. The men are handsomer than the
women, which is owing to the difference in their mode of living.

Their language is rich in words, and is musical in expression, owing to
the great number of vowels used. With very few exceptions the syllables
end in vowels. In structure it differs greatly from the languages of
Europeans. The inflections take place at the beginning, not at the end
of words. Thus the plural of indoda, a man, is amadoda, men; of umfazi,
a woman, is abafazi, women; of isikali, a weapon, is izikali, weapons.
And so with every part of speech which is capable of being inflected.
This difference is, however, a slight one, when compared with the
changes which the other parts of speech undergo to make them harmonize
in sound with the principal noun in the sentence. According as the noun
commences with a particular syllable, so the first syllable of the
adjective, the verb, the adverb, and even the preposition, must be
altered to agree with it in sound. Only the root syllables of these
parts of speech remain the same in all combinations.

Kaffir words are in most instances combined together to form sentences
in such a way that they cannot be separated from each other as English
words are. What appears in writing to be only one word, is often really
three or four, but as in another combination these would change their
positions, and as very frequently a single letter represents a word, it
would create much greater confusion to separate them than to write them
as one.

There is no difficulty whatever in expressing any ideas in the Kaffir
language. The present infinitive of any verb can be transformed into an
abstract noun. The numerals are as complete as is necessary for any
calculation. Adjectives proper are not numerous, but their place is
supplied by abstract nouns; as if we should say, a thing with goodness,
instead of, a good thing. The adjective follows the noun, as abantwana
bane, children four, izinto zine, things four.

The language of the Amaxosa contains three clicks, which are now
represented in writing by the superfluous letters c, q, and x. These
clicks are easily sounded separately by Europeans, the c by withdrawing
the tongue sharply from the front teeth, the q by doing the same from
the roof of the mouth, and the x by drawing the breath in a peculiar
way between the tongue and the side teeth; but they generally prove an
insurmountable difficulty to an adult who wishes to learn to speak the
language. By such a person a syllable commencing with a click can only
be sounded as a distinct word with a considerable interval of time
between it and the one before it. European children, however, readily
learn to speak it fluently.

The women do not always use the same words as the men, owing to the
custom called ukuhlonipa, which prohibits females from pronouncing the
names of any of their husband’s male relatives in the ascending line,
or any words whatever in which the principal syllables of such names
occur. Owing to this custom, in many instances almost a distinct
dialect has come into use. (This custom is referred to in a note to
follow the Story of Tangalimlibo.)

Before the advent of the white man, the Kaffirs knew nothing of letters
or of any signs by which ideas could be expressed. Their history is
thus traditional, and cannot be considered authentic beyond four or
five generations back. There are numerous old men in every clan who
profess to be acquainted with the deeds of the past, but their accounts
of these seldom correspond in details beyond a period of about a
century and a half. The genealogy of the great chiefs even, as given by
them, is not the same beyond the time of Sikomo, the eighth in order
from the present one, while with regard to minor chiefs considerable
confusion exists two or three generations later.

They know of no other periods in reckoning time than the day and the
lunar month, and can describe events only as happening before or after
some remarkable occurrence, such as the death of a chief. The different
seasons of the year are indicated by the rise in the evening of
particular constellations, to which, as well as to several of the
prominent stars and planets, they have given expressive names.

Until European clothing was introduced, the dress of the Kaffirs was
composed of skins of animals formed into a square mantle the size of a
large blanket, which they wrapped about their persons. The skin of the
leopard was reserved for chiefs and their principal councillors alone,
but any other could be used by common people. Married women wore a
short leather petticoat at all times; in warm weather men and children
went quite naked. No covering was ordinarily worn on the head, though a
fillet, intended for show, was commonly bound round it, and a fantastic
head-dress was used by the women on certain festive occasions.

They are fond of decorating their persons with ornaments, such as
shells, teeth of animals, and beads, used as necklaces, copper and
ivory rings on their arms, etc. They protect their bodies from the
effects of the sun by rubbing themselves all over with fat and red
clay, which makes them look like polished bronze. Their clothing is
greased and coloured in the same manner.

They live in villages, large or small according to circumstances. Their
habitations consist of hemispherical huts formed of strong wickerwork
frames thatched with reeds or grass; they are proof against rain or
wind. The largest are about twenty-five feet in diameter, and seven or
eight feet in height in the centre. They are entered by a low, narrow
aperture, which is the only opening in the structure; their interior is
smoky and dirty, and not seldom swarms with vermin. The villages are
usually in situations which command a good view of the surrounding
country.

The Kaffirs are warlike in disposition and brave in the field, though
when fighting with Europeans they seldom venture upon a pitched battle,
owing to their dread of firearms. Their weapons of offence are wooden
clubs with heavy heads, and assagais or javelins. The assagai (a
corruption of a Portuguese word derived from the Latin hasta) consists
of a long, thin iron head, with both edges sharp, and terminating in a
point, and is attached by thongs to a slender shaft or rod. Poising
this first in his uplifted hand and imparting to it a quivering motion,
the Kaffir hurls it forth with great force and accuracy of aim. The
club is used at close quarters, and can also be thrown to a
considerable distance. Boys are trained to the use of both these
weapons from an early age. Before the introduction of firearms the
Kaffir used a shield to defend his person. It was made of ox-hide
stretched over a wooden frame, and varied in size and pattern among the
clans.

The warriors are formed into companies under their respective chiefs,
and are not divided into regiments of about the same number. A battle
between Kaffirs consists of a series of individual encounters, in which
the bravest combatants on each side challenge each other by name, and
when one falls, another is called upon by the victor to take his place.
The height of ambition is to be mentioned in one of the rude chants
which the bards, whose principal employment is to sing the praises of
the chief, compose on the occasions of festivals, and to hear one’s
name received with applause. The brave wear on their heads the feathers
of the blue crane, which are given to them by the chief as tokens of
distinction, and which no one else is permitted to wear (except a
single individual at a peculiar ceremony which will be referred to in a
note upon the custom of ntonjane).

Horned cattle constitute their principal wealth, and form a medium of
exchange throughout the country. Great care is taken of them, and
particular skill is exhibited in their training. They are taught to
obey signals, as, for instance, to run home upon a certain call or
whistle being given. In former days every man of note had his racing
oxen, and prided himself upon their good qualities as much as an
English squire does upon his blood horses. Ox racing was then one of
the institutions of Kaffirland, and was connected with all kinds of
festivities.

The care of cattle is considered the most honourable employment, and
falls entirely to the men. They milk the cows, take charge of the
dairy, and will not permit a woman even to touch a milksack. When
Europeans first visited them they had, in addition to the ox, domestic
dogs and an inferior breed of goats, the last not considered of much
value. Barnyard fowls were also found in their possession, but adults
made no use of either their flesh or their eggs.

The Kaffirs are an agricultural as well as a pastoral people. They
cultivate the ground to a large extent, and draw the greater portion of
their food from it. A species of millet, called by the colonists Kaffir
corn, was the grain exclusively cultivated by them prior to the advent
of Europeans. Of this they raise large quantities, which they use
either boiled, or bruised into a paste from which bread is made. They
were acquainted with the art of fermenting it and making a kind of
beer, which they were fond of drinking, and which soon caused
intoxication. Of this grain they were careful always to keep a good
stock on hand. They preserved it from the attacks of the weevil by
storing it in air-tight holes excavated beneath the cattle kraals. They
had also pumpkins, a species of gourd, a cane containing saccharine
matter in large quantities, and a sort of ground nut. The other
productions of their gardens, as we see them at present, have been
introduced since they became acquainted with the white man. Of those
mentioned their food consisted, with the addition of curdled milk and
occasionally flesh.

They have two meals a day, a slight breakfast in the morning, and a
substantial repast at sunset. Boys in early youth are permitted to eat
any kind of meat, even that of wild cats and other carnivora, but when
they reach the age of maturity the flesh of all unclean animals is
rejected by them. They use no kinds of fish as an article of diet, and
call them all snakes, without distinction.

They have a system of religion which they carefully observe. It is
based upon the supposition of the existence of spirits who can
interfere with the affairs of this world, and who must therefore be
propitiated with sacrifices. These spirits are those of their deceased
chiefs, the greatest of whom has power over lightning. When the spirits
become hungry, they send a plague or disaster, until sacrifices are
offered and their hunger is appeased. When a person is killed by
lightning no lamentation is made, as it would be considered rebellion
to mourn for one whom the great chief has sent for. They have no idea
of reward or punishment in a world to come for acts committed in this
life, and each of the commonalty denies the immortality of his own
soul.

In olden times, when common people died, their corpses were dragged
away to a short distance from the kraal, and there left to be devoured
by beasts of prey; but chiefs and great men were interred with much
ceremony. A grave was dug, in which the body was placed in a sitting
posture, and by it were deposited his weapons of war and ornaments.
When it was closed, such expressions as these were used: “Remember us
from where you are. You have gone to high places. Cause us to prosper!”

They believe in the existence of a Supreme Being, whom they term
Qamata, and to whom they sometimes pray, though they never offer
sacrifices to him. In a time of great danger a Kaffir will exclaim, “O
Qamata, help me!” and when the danger is over he will attribute his
deliverance to the same Supreme Being. The Kaffirs cannot define their
belief concerning Qamata very minutely, and they do not trouble
themselves with thinking much about the matter.

The largest amount of information on this subject which I ever obtained
was from a group of aged Gaikas, among whom was a celebrated native
antiquary. Negatively they replied to my inquiries much better than
positively.

“Had he been once a chief, such as Xosa or Tshawe?”

“No.”

“Was he the first man, the father of the nations, the one whom some of
the old Fingoes call Nkulunkulu?”

“No, not at all; Qamata was never a man.”

“Was he the creator of all that we see, the mountains, and the sun, and
the stars?”

“Perhaps he was, we don’t know; he is greater than all these.”

“Where is he?”

“Everywhere.”

“Does he see all things?”

“We think he does.”

“Does he help people?”

“We ask him to sometimes, and we believe he does.”

“Is he altogether good, or altogether bad, or partly good and partly
bad?”

“We don’t know about that; but we think he is altogether good.”

“Are there any others like him?”

“No; he is all alone.”

“Is there any other name for him?”

“In the olden times that was the only name, but now he is called by
some u-Tixo,” (a name for God, introduced by missionaries).

A superstitious act of a very peculiar kind is somehow or other
connected in their minds with prayer to, or worship of, Qamata. In
various parts of the Kaffir country there are artificial heaps of
stones, and a Kaffir, when travelling, may often be seen adding one to
the number. He repeats no words, but merely picks up a stone and throws
it on the heap. Why does he do it? That good fortune may attend
him,—that he may not be carried away by the river spirit when crossing
a stream,—that he may find food prepared for him where he is to
rest,—that he may be successful in the business he is engaged in,—or
something of the kind that he is thinking of at the time. It is an act
of superstition. But old men have told me, when I inquired the object
of this act, that “it was for Qamata.” How? They did not know; but
their ancestors had done the same thing, and said it was for Qamata;
and so they did it too.

The influence of the unseen world is ever acting upon the Kaffir. Far
nearer to him than Qamata or the spirits of his ancestors is a whole
host of water sprites and hobgoblins, who meet him turn which way he
will. There is no beautiful fairyland for him, for all these fanciful
beings who haunt the mountains, the plains, and the rivers, are either
actively malevolent, or mischievous and addicted to playing pranks. To
protect himself from them he carries on his person charms in numbers,
only to find himself still exposed to their attacks. This superstition
influences all his acts and gives a tone of seriousness to his
character.

The rites of religion consist merely in sacrifices to appease the
spirits. These are numerous. On great occasions they are performed by
individuals who act the part of priests, on ordinary occasions by heads
of families. The meat of the animal sacrificed is eaten, for the hunger
of the spirit is allayed with the smoke. No sacred days or seasons are
observed.

A corollary to the belief in malevolent spirits is the belief in
witchcraft. Certain persons obtain from the demons power to bewitch
others, and thus sickness and death are caused. The same individual who
acts as a priest acts also as a witch-finder. In olden times the person
whom the witch-finder pronounced guilty was liable to confiscation of
property, torture, and even death. The priest and witch-finder
professes also to have the power of making rain, and of causing the
warriors of his clan to be invulnerable in battle. When following any
of these occupations, he attires himself most fantastically, being
painted with various colours, and having the tails of wild animals
suspended around him.

Before the supremacy of the Europeans it was seldom that the individual
who filled this office died a natural death. Sooner or later he would
fail to cause rain to fall when it was needed, or warriors whom he had
made invulnerable would be struck down, or something else would happen
which would cause him to be regarded as an impostor. He was then
generally tied hand and foot and cast into the first stream at hand.
Nevertheless, implicit confidence was placed in his successor, until
he, too, met the same fate.

Sometimes a person intimates that he has received revelations from the
spirit world. He is really a monomaniac, but if his statements are
believed his power at once becomes greater than that of the highest
chief, and his commands are implicitly obeyed.

The snake is treated with great respect by the Kaffirs. If one is found
in a hut, the people will move out and wait patiently until it leaves.

The owner will say that it is perhaps the spirit of one of his
ancestors who has come to visit him in this form. It may be only an
ordinary snake, he will add, but it is not advisable to run any risk,
lest harm should befall his house.

In the division of labour the cultivation of the ground falls to the
woman’s share, as does also the collection of firewood, and the
thatching of the huts. A man who meddles with work of this kind is
regarded as an intruder into a domain not his own. The females look
upon it as pertaining to them, just as in England they look upon
housework.

The descent of property is regulated in the same manner as the
succession to the chieftainship.

Many of their manufactures display considerable skill and ingenuity.
Foremost among these must be reckoned metallic wares, which include
implements of war and husbandry, and ornaments for the person. Iron and
copper are now obtained in trade from Europeans, but when the country
was first visited, the Kaffirs were found in possession of these
metals, and to the present day a few stubborn conservatives prefer to
smelt ore for themselves, as their ancestors did before them. There are
certain families to whom the working in metals is confined, the son
following the father in his occupation. This is the case with every
kind of manufacture, and no one pretends to know anything about a trade
which does not belong to his own family.

In many parts of the country iron ore of excellent quality is abundant,
and this they smelt (or rather did so until recently) in a simple
manner. Forming a furnace of a boulder with a hollow surface, out of
which a groove was made to allow the liquid metal to escape, and into
which a hole was pierced for the purpose of introducing a current of
air, they piled up a heap of charcoal and virgin ore, which they
afterwards covered in such a way as to prevent the escape of heat. The
bellows by which air was introduced were made of skins, the mouthpiece
being the horn of a large antelope. The molten iron, escaping from the
crude yet effective furnace, ran into clay moulds prepared to receive
it, which were as nearly as possible of the same magnitude as the
implements they wished to make. These were never of great size, the
largest being the picks or heavy hoes used in gardening.

The Kaffir smith, using a boulder for an anvil and a hammer of iron or
stone, next proceeded to shape the lump of metal into an assagai head,
an axe, a pick, or whatever was required. The iron was worked cold. In
this laborious operation a vast amount of patience and perseverance was
exercised, and the article when completed was very creditable indeed.

Copper is worked into a great variety of ornaments for their persons.
This metal is found in certain parts of the country, but it is now
generally obtained in trade from Europeans.

Hardly less remarkable was their skill in pottery, an art rapidly
becoming lost since the introduction of European wares. Vessels
containing from half a pint to fifty gallons were constructed by them
of earthenware, some of which were highly ornamented, and were almost
as perfect in form as if they had been turned on a wheel. Though they
were frequently not more than an eighth of an inch in thickness, so
finely tempered were they that the most intense heat did not damage
them. These vessels were used as beer pots, grain jars, and cooking
utensils.

In the manufacture of wooden articles, such as spoons, bowls, fighting
sticks, pipes (since the introduction of tobacco), rests for the head
when sleeping, etc., they display great skill and no little taste. Each
article is made of a single block of wood, requiring much time and
patience to complete it, and upon it is frequently carved some neat but
simple pattern.

Baskets for holding grain, rush mats, bags, and drinking vessels made
of grass are among the products of their labour. Rush bags are made so
carefully and strongly that they are used to hold water or any other
liquid.

Skins for clothing are prepared by rubbing them for a length of time
with grease, by which means they are made nearly as soft and pliable as
cloth.

Ingenious as they are, the men are far from being industrious. A great
portion of their time is spent in visiting and gossip, of which they
are exceedingly fond. They are perfect masters of that kind of argument
which consists in parrying a question by means of putting another. They
are not strict observers of truth, and, though not pilferers, they are
addicted to cattle lifting. According to their ideas, stealing cattle
is not a crime; it is a civil offence, and a thief when detected is
compelled to make ample restitution; but no disgrace attaches to it,
and they have no religious scruples concerning it.

Such, in brief, are the Kaffirs, the people among whom the following
stories are current.



STORY OF THE BIRD THAT MADE MILK. I.


There was once upon a time a poor man living with his wife in a certain
village. They had three children, two boys and a girl. They used to get
milk from a tree. That milk of the tree was got by squeezing. It was
not nice as that of a cow, and the people that drank it were always
thin. For this reason, those people were never glossy like those who
are fat.

One day the woman went to cultivate a garden. She began by cutting the
grass with a pick, and then putting it in a big heap. That was the work
of the first day, and when the sun was just about to set she went home.
When she left, there came a bird to that place, and sang this song:


   “Weeds of this garden,
    Weeds of this garden,
    Spring up, spring up;
    Work of this garden,
    Work of this garden,
    Disappear, disappear.”


It was so.

The next morning, when she returned and saw that, she wondered greatly.
She again put it in order on that day, and put some sticks in the
ground to mark the place.

In the evening she went home and told that she had found the grass
which she had cut growing just as it was before.

Her husband said: “How can such a thing be? You were lazy and didn’t
work, and now tell me this falsehood. Just get out of my sight, or I’ll
beat you.”

On the third day she went to her work with a sorrowful heart,
remembering the words spoken by her husband. She reached the place and
found the grass growing as before. The sticks that she stuck in the
ground were there still, but she saw nothing else of her labour. She
wondered greatly.

She said in her heart, “I will not cut the grass off again, I will just
hoe the ground as it is.”

She commenced. Then the bird came and perched on one of the sticks.

It sang:


   “Citi, citi, who is this cultivating the ground of my father?
              Pick, come off;
              Pick handle, break;
            Sods, go back to your places!”


All these things happened.

The woman went home and told her husband what the bird had done. Then
they made a plan. They dug a deep hole in the ground, and covered it
with sticks and grass. The man hid himself in the hole, and put up one
of his hands. The woman commenced to hoe the ground again. Then the
bird came and perched on the hand of the man, and sang:


   “This is the ground of my father.
    Who are you, digging my father’s ground?
    Pick, break into small pieces;
    Sods, return to your places.”


It was so.

Then the man tightened his fingers and caught the bird. He came up out
of the place of concealment.

He said to the bird: “As for you who spoil the work of this garden, you
will not see the sun any more. With this sharp stone I will cut off
your head!”

Then the bird said to him: “I am not a bird that should be killed. I am
a bird that can make milk.”

The man said: “Make some, then.”

The bird made some milk in his hand. The man tasted it. It was very
nice milk.

The man said: “Make some more milk, my bird.”

The bird did so. The man sent his wife for a milk basket. When she
brought it, the bird filled it with milk.

The man was very much pleased. He said: “This pretty bird of mine is
better than a cow.”

He took it home and put it in a jar. After that he used to rise even in
the night and tell the bird to make milk for him. Only he and his wife
drank of it. The children continued to drink of the milk of the tree.
The names of the children were Gingci, the first-born son; Lonci, his
brother; and Dumangashe, his sister. That man then got very fat indeed,
so that his skin became shining.

The girl said to her brother Gingci: “Why does father get fat and we
remain so thin?”

He replied: “I do not know. Perhaps he eats in the night.”

They made a plan to watch. They saw him rise in the middle of the
night. He went to the big jar and took an eating mat off it. He said:
“Make milk, my bird.” He drank much. Again he said: “Make milk, my
bird,” and again he drank till he was very full. Then he lay down and
went to sleep.

The next day the woman went to work in her garden, and the man went to
visit his friend. The children remained at home, but not in the house.
Their father fastened the door of the house, and told them not to enter
it on any account till his return.

Gingci said: “To-day we will drink of the milk that makes father fat
and shining; we will not drink of the milk of the euphorbia to-day.”

The girl said: “As for me, I also say let us drink of father’s milk
to-day.”

They entered the house. Gingci removed the eating mat from the jar, and
said to the bird: “My father’s bird, make milk for me.”

The bird said: “If I am your father’s bird, put me by the fireplace,
and I will make milk.”

The boy did so. The bird made just a little milk.

The boy drank, and said: “My father’s bird, make more milk.”

The bird said: “If I am your father’s bird, put me by the door, then I
will make milk.”

The boy did this. Then the bird made just a little milk, which the boy
drank.

The girl said: “My father’s bird, make milk for me.”

The bird said: “If I am your father’s bird, just put me in the
sunlight, and I will make milk.”

The girl did so. Then the bird made a jar full of milk.

After that the bird sang:


   “The father of Dumangashe came, he came,
    He came unnoticed by me.
    He found great fault with me.
    The little fellows have met together.
    Gingci the brother of Lonci.
    The Umkomanzi cannot be crossed,
    It is crossed by swallows
    Whose wings are long.”


When it finished its song it lifted up its wings and flew away. But the
girl was still drinking milk.

The children called it, and said: “Return, bird of our father,” but it
did not come back. They said, “We shall be killed to-day.”

They followed the bird. They came to a tree where there were many
birds.

The boy caught one, and said to it: “My father’s bird, make milk.”

It bled. They said: “This is not our father’s bird.”

This bird bled very much; the blood ran like a river. Then the boy
released it, and it flew away. The children were seized with fear.

They said to themselves: “If our father finds us, he will kill us
to-day.”

In the evening the man came home. When he was yet far off, he saw that
the door had been opened.

He said: “I did not shut the door that way.”

He called his children, but only Lonci replied. He asked for the
others.

Lonci said: “I went to the river to drink; when I returned they were
gone.”

He searched for them, and found the girl under the ashes and the boy
behind a stone. He inquired at once about his bird. They were compelled
to tell the truth concerning it.

Then the man took a riem and hung those two children on a tree that
projected over the river. He went away, leaving them there. Their
mother besought their father, saying that they should be released; but
the man refused. After he was gone, the boy tried to escape. He climbed
up the riem and held on to the tree; then he went up and loosened the
riem that was tied to his sister. After that they climbed up the tree,
and then went away from their home. They slept three times on the road.

They came to a big rock. The boy said: “We have no father and no
mother; rock, be our house.”

The rock opened, and they went inside. After that they lived there in
that place. They obtained food by hunting animals,—they were hunted by
the boy.

When they were already in that place a long time, the girl grew to be
big. There were no people in that place. A bird came one day with a
child, and left it there by their house.

The bird said: “So have I done to all the people.”

After that a crocodile came to that place. The boy was just going to
kill it, but it said: “I am a crocodile; I am not to be killed; I am
your friend.”

Then the boy went with the crocodile to the house of the crocodile, in
a deep hole under the water.

The crocodile had many cattle and (much) millet. He gave the boy ten
cows and ten baskets of millet.

The crocodile said to the boy: “You must send your sister for the
purpose of being married to me.”

The boy made a fold to keep his cattle in; his sister made a garden and
planted millet. The crocodile sent more cattle. The boy made a very big
fold, and it was full of cattle.

At this time there came a bird.

The bird said: “Your sister has performed the custom, and as for you,
you should enter manhood.”

The crocodile gave one of his daughters to be the wife of the young
man. The young woman went to the village of the crocodile, she went to
be a bride.

They said to her: “Whom do you choose to be your husband?”

The girl replied: “I choose Crocodile.”

Her husband said to her: “Lick my face.”

She did so. The crocodile cast off its skin, and arose a man of great
strength and fine appearance.

He said: “The enemies of my father’s house did that; you, my wife, are
stronger than they.”

After this there was a great famine, and the mother of those people
came to their village. She did not recognise her children, but they
knew her and gave her food. She went away, and then their father came.
He did not recognise them either, but they knew him. They asked him
what he wanted. He told them that his village was devoured by famine.
They gave him food, and he went away.

He returned again.

The young man said: “You thought we would die when you hung us in the
tree.”

He was astonished, and said: “Are you indeed my child?”

Crocodile then gave them (the parents) three baskets of corn, and told
them to go and build on the mountains. He (the man) did so and died
there on the mountains.



THE STORY OF THE BIRD THAT MADE MILK. II.


    The following is another version of this story of the Bird that
    made Milk, as current among the Barolongs, a tribe speaking the
    Sechuana language, and residing beyond the Orange River. It was
    written down for me by an educated grandson of the late chief
    Moroko.


It is said that there was once a great town in a certain place, which
had many people living in it. They lived upon grain only. One year
there was a great famine. There was in that town a poor man, by name
Masilo, and his wife. One day they went to dig in their garden, and
they continued digging the whole day long. In the evening, when the
digging companies returned home, they returned also. Then there came a
bird and stood upon the house which was beside the garden, and began to
whistle, and said:

“Masilo’s cultivated ground, mix together.”

The ground did as the bird said. After that was done the bird went
away.

In the morning, when Masilo and his wife went to the garden, they were
in doubt, and said:

“Is it really the place we were digging yesterday?”

They saw that it was the place by the people working on each side. The
people began to laugh at them, and mocked them, and said: “It is
because you are very lazy.”

They continued to dig again that day, and in the evening they went home
with the others.

Then the bird came and did the same thing.

When they went back next morning, they found their ground altogether
undug. Then they believed that they were bewitched by some others.

They continued digging that day again. But in the evening when the
companies returned, Masilo said to his wife:

“Go home; I will stay behind to watch and find the thing which eats our
work.”

Then he went and laid himself down by the head of the garden, under the
same house which the bird used always to stand upon. While he was
thinking, the bird came. It was a very beautiful bird. He was looking
at it and admiring it, when it began to speak.

It said: “Masilo’s cultivated ground, mix together.”

Then he caught it, and said: “Ah! is it you who eat the work of our
hands?”

He took out his knife from the sheath, and was going to cut the head of
the bird off.

Then the bird said: “Please don’t kill me, and I will make some milk
for you to eat.”

Masilo answered: “You must bring back the work of my hands first.”

The bird said: “Masilo’s cultivated ground, appear,” and it appeared.

Then Masilo said: “Make the milk now,” and, behold, it immediately made
thick milk, which Masilo began to eat. When he was satisfied, he took
the bird home. As he approached his house, he put the bird in his bag.

When he entered his house, he said to his wife, “Wash all the largest
beer pots which are in the house,” but his wife was angry on account of
her hunger, and she answered: “What have you to put in such large
pots?”

Masilo said to her: “Just hear me, and do as I command you, then you
will see.”

When she was ready with the pots, Masilo took his bird out of his bag,
and said: “Make milk for my children to eat.”

Then the bird filled all the beer pots with milk.

They commenced to eat, and when they were finished, Masilo charged his
children, saying,

“Beware that you do not tell anybody of this, not one of your
companions.”

They swore by him that they would not tell anybody.

Masilo and his family then lived upon this bird. The people were
surprised when they saw him and his family. They said:

“Why are the people at Masilo’s house so fat? He is so poor, but now
since his garden has appeared he and his children are so fat!”

They tried to watch and to see what he was eating, but they never could
find out at all.

One morning Masilo and his wife went to work in their garden, and about
the middle of the same day the children of that town met together to
play. They met just before Masilo’s house. While they were playing the
others said to Masilo’s children:

“Why are you so fat while we remain so thin?”

They answered: “Are we then fat? We thought we were thin just as you
are.”

They would not tell them the cause. The others continued to press them,
and said: “We won’t tell anybody.”

Then the children of Masilo said: “There is a bird in our father’s
house which makes milk.”

The others said: “Please show us the bird.”

They went into the house and took it out of the secret place where
their father had placed it. They ordered it as their father used to
order it, and it made milk, which their companions drank, for they were
very hungry.

After drinking they said: “Let it dance for us,” and they loosened it
from the place where it was tied.

The bird began to dance in the house, but one said: “This place is too
confined,” so they took it outside of the house. While they were
enjoying themselves and laughing, the bird flew away, leaving them in
great dismay.

Masilo’s children said: “Our father will this day kill us, therefore we
must go after the bird.”

So they followed it, and continued going after it the whole day long,
for when they were at a distance it would sit still for a little while,
and when they approached it would fly away.

When the digging companies returned from digging, the people of that
town cried for their children, for they did not know what had become of
them. But when Masilo went into the house and could not find his bird,
he knew where the children were, but he did not tell any of their
parents. He was very sorry for his bird, for he knew that he had lost
his food.

When evening set in, the children determined to return to their home,
but there came a storm of rain with heavy thunder, and they were very
much afraid. Among them was a brave boy, named Mosemanyanamatong, who
encouraged them, and said:

“Do not be afraid; I can command a house to build itself.”

They said: “Please command it.”

He said: “House appear,” and it appeared, and also wood for fire. Then
the children entered the house and made a large fire, and began to
roast some wild roots which they dug out of the ground.

While they were roasting the roots and were merry, there came a big
cannibal, and they heard his voice saying: “Mosemanyanamatong, give me
some of the wild roots you have.”

They were afraid, and the brave boy said to the girls and to the other
boys, “Give me some of yours.”

They gave to him, and he threw the roots outside. While the cannibal
was still eating, they went out and fled. He finished eating the roots,
and then pursued them. When he approached they scattered some more
roots upon the ground, and while he was picking them up and eating,
they fled.

At length they came among mountains, where trees were growing. The
girls were already very tired, so they all climbed up a tall tree. The
cannibal came there, and tried to cut the tree down with his sharp and
long nail.

Then the brave boy said to the girls: “While I am singing you must
continue saying, ‘Tree be strong, Tree be strong!’”

He sang this song:


       “It is foolish,
    It is foolish to be a traveller,
    And to go on a journey
    With the blood of girls upon one!
    While we were roasting wild roots
    A great darkness fell upon us.
    It was not darkness,
    It was awful gloom!”


While he was singing, there came a great bird and hovered over them,
and said: “Hold fast to me.”

The children held fast to the bird, and it flew away with them, and
took them to their own town.

It was midnight when it arrived there, and it sat down at the gate of
Mosemanyanamatong’s mother’s house.

In the morning, when that woman came out of her house, she took ashes
and cast upon the bird, for she said: “This bird knows where our
children are.”

At midday the bird sent word to the chief, saying, “Command all your
people to spread mats in all the paths.”

The chief commanded them to do so. Then the bird brought all the
children out, and the people were greatly delighted.



THE STORY OF FIVE HEADS.


There was once a man living in a certain place, who had two daughters
big enough to be married.

One day the man went over the river to another village, which was the
residence of a great chief. The people asked him to tell them the news.
He replied, that there was no news in the place that he came from. Then
the man inquired about the news of their place. They said the news of
their place was that the chief wanted a wife.

The man went home and said to his two daughters: “Which of you wishes
to be the wife of a chief?”

The eldest replied: “I wish to be the wife of a chief, my father.” The
name of that girl was Mpunzikazi.

The man said: “At that village which I visited, the chief wishes for a
wife; you, my daughter, shall go.”

The man called all his friends, and assembled a large company to go
with his daughter to the village of the chief. But the girl would not
consent that those people should go with her.

She said: “I will go alone to be the wife of the chief.”

Her father replied: “How can you, my daughter, say such a thing? Is it
not so that when a girl goes to present herself to her husband she
should be accompanied by others? Be not foolish, my daughter.”

The girl still said: “I will go alone to be the wife of the chief.”

Then the man allowed his daughter to do as she chose. She went alone,
no bridal party accompanying her, to present herself at the village of
the chief who wanted a wife.

As Mpunzikazi was in the path, she met a mouse.

The mouse said: “Shall I show you the way?”

The girl replied: “Just get away from before my eyes.”

The mouse answered: “If you do like this, you will not succeed.”

Then she met a frog.

The frog said: “Shall I show you the way?”

Mpunzikazi replied: “You are not worthy to speak to me, as I am to be
the wife of a chief.”

The frog said: “Go on then; you will see afterwards what will happen.”

When the girl got tired, she sat down under a tree to rest. A boy who
was herding goats in that place came to her, he being very hungry.

The boy said: “Where are you going to, my eldest sister?”

Mpunzikazi replied in an angry voice: “Who are you that you should
speak to me? Just get away from before me.”

The boy said: “I am very hungry; will you not give me of your food?”

She answered: “Get away quickly.”

The boy said: “You will not return if you do this.”

She went on her way again, and met with an old woman sitting by a big
stone.

The old woman said: “I will give you advice. You will meet with trees
that will laugh at you: you must not laugh in return. You will see a
bag of thick milk: you must not eat of it. You will meet a man whose
head is under his arm: you must not take water from him.”

Mpunzikazi answered: “You ugly thing! who are you that you should
advise me?”

The old woman continued in saying those words.

The girl went on. She came to a place where were many trees. The trees
laughed at her, and she laughed at them in return. She saw a bag of
thick milk, and she ate of it. She met a man carrying his head under
his arm, and she took water to drink from him.

She came to the river of the village of the chief. She saw a girl there
dipping water from the river. The girl said: “Where are you going to,
my sister?”

Mpunzikazi replied: “Who are you that you should call me sister? I am
going to be the wife of a chief.”

The girl drawing water was the sister of the chief. She said: “Wait, I
will give you advice. Do not enter the village by this side.”

Mpunzikazi did not stand to listen, but just went on.

She reached the village of the chief. The people asked her where she
came from and what she wanted.

She answered: “I have come to be the wife of the chief.”

They said: “Who ever saw a girl go without a retinue to be a bride?”

They said also: “The chief is not at home; you must prepare food for
him, that when he comes in the evening he may eat.”

They gave her millet to grind. She ground it very coarse, and made
bread that was not nice to eat.

In the evening she heard the sound of a great wind. That wind was the
coming of the chief. He was a big snake with five heads and large eyes.
Mpunzikazi was very much frightened when she saw him. He sat down
before the door and told her to bring his food. She brought the bread
which she had made. Makanda Mahlanu (Five Heads) was not satisfied with
that bread. He said: “You shall not be my wife,” and he struck her with
his tail and killed her.

Afterwards the sister of Mpunzikazi said to her father: “I also wish to
be the wife of a chief.”

Her father replied: “It is well, my daughter; it is right that you
should wish to be a bride.”

The man called all his friends, and a great retinue prepared to
accompany the bride. The name of the girl was Mpunzanyana.

In the way they met a mouse.

The mouse said: “Shall I show you the road?”

Mpunzanyana replied: “If you will show me the way I shall be glad.”

Then the mouse pointed out the way.

She came into a valley, where she saw an old woman standing by a tree.

The old woman said to her: “You will come to a place where two paths
branch off. You must take the little one, because if you take the big
one you will not be fortunate.”

Mpunzanyana replied: “I will take the little path, my mother.” She went
on.

Afterwards she met a cony.

The cony said: “The village of the chief is close by. You will meet a
girl by the river: you must speak nicely to her. They will give you
millet to grind: you must grind it well. When you see your husband, you
must not be afraid.”

She said: “I will do as you say, cony.”

In the river she met the chief’s sister carrying water.

The chief’s sister said: “Where are you going to?”

Mpunzanyana replied: “This is the end of my journey.”

The chief’s sister said: “What is the object of your coming to this
place?”

Mpunzanyana replied: “I am with a bridal party.”

The chief’s sister said: “That is right, but will you not be afraid
when you see your husband?”

Mpunzanyana answered: “I will not be afraid.”

The chief’s sister pointed out the hut in which she should stay. Food
was given to the bridal party. The mother of the chief took millet and
gave to the bride, saying: “You must prepare food for your husband. He
is not here now, but he will come in the evening.”

In the evening she heard a very strong wind, which made the hut shake.
The poles fell, but she did not run out. Then she saw the chief Makanda
Mahlanu coming. He asked for food. Mpunzanyana took the bread which she
had made, and gave it to him. He was very much pleased with that food,
and said:

“You shall be my wife.” He gave her very many ornaments.

Afterwards Makanda Mahlanu became a man, and Mpunzanyana continued to
be the wife he loved best.



THE STORY OF TANGALIMLIBO.


There was once a man who had two wives, one of whom had no children.
She grieved much about that, till one day a bird came to her and gave
her some little pellets. The bird said she must eat of these always
before she partook of food, and then she would bear a child. She was
very glad, and offered the bird some millet.

But the bird said: “No, I do not want millet.”

The woman then offered an isidanga (an ornamental breast-band which
women wear), but the bird said it had no use for that. Then she got
some very fine gravel and placed before the bird, which it received at
her hands.

After this the woman had a daughter. Her husband knew nothing of what
had happened, because he never went to her house. He did not love her
at all, for the reason that she bore no children. So she said:

“I will keep my daughter in the house till my husband comes; he will
surely love me when he sees I have such a beautiful child.”

The name given to the girl was Tangalimlibo.

The man went always to the house of the other wife, and so it happened
that Tangalimlibo was grown to be a young woman when her father first
saw her. He was very much pleased, and said:

“My dear wife, you should have told me of this before.”

The girl had never been out of the house in the daytime. Only in the
night-time she had gone out, when people could not see her.

The man said to his wife:

“You must make much beer, and invite many people to come and rejoice
with me over this that has happened.”

The woman did so. There was a big tree in front of the kraal, and the
mats were spread under it. It was a fine sunny day, and very many men
came. Among them was the son of a certain chief, who fell in love with
Tangalimlibo as soon as he saw her.

When the young chief went home he sent a message to the father of the
girl that he must send her to him to be married. The man told all his
friends about that. He told them also to be ready at a certain time to
conduct his daughter to the chief. So they came and took her, and the
marriage feast was very great. The oxen were many which were killed
that day. Tangalimlibo had a large and beautiful ox given to her by her
father. That ox was called by her own name. She took off a piece of her
clothing and gave it to the ox, which ate it.

After she had been married some time, this woman had a son. She was
loved very much by her husband, because she was pretty and industrious;
only this thing was observed of her, that she never went out in the
daytime. Therefore she received the name of Sihamba Ngenyanga (the
walker by moonlight).

One day her husband went to a distant place to hunt with other men.
There were left at his home with this woman only her father-in-law, her
mother-in-law, and a girl who nursed the little child.

The father-in-law said:

“Why does she not work during the day?”

He pretended to become thirsty, and sent the girl to Tangalimlibo to
ask for water, saying:

“I die with thirst.”

The woman sent water to her father-in-law, but he threw it on the
ground, saying:

“It is water from the river I desire.”

She said:

“I never go to the river in the daytime.”

He continued to ask, saying again:

“I die with thirst.”

Then she took a milk-basket and a calabash ladle, and went weeping to
the river. She dipped the ladle in the water, and it was drawn out of
her hand. She dipped the milk-basket in the water, and it was drawn
away from her. Then she tried to take some water in her mantle, and she
was drawn under the surface. After a little time the girl was sent to
look for her, but she came back, saying:

“I found her not who is accustomed to draw water only in the night.”

Her father-in-law drove oxen quickly to the river. He took the big ox
that was called by her name and killed it. He put all the flesh and
everything else that was of that ox into the river, saying:

“Let this be instead of my child.”

A voice was heard saying:

“Go to my father and my mother and say to them that I am taken by the
river.”

That evening the little child of Tangalimlibo was crying very bitterly.
Its father was not yet home. Its grandmother tried by every means to
keep it from crying, but in vain. Then she gave it to the nurse, who
fastened it on her back. Still the child continued to cry. In the
middle of the night the nurse went down to the river with the child,
singing this song:


   “It is crying, it is crying,
    The child of Sihamba Ngenyanga;
    It is crying, it will not be pacified.”


Then the mother of the child came out of the river, and wailed this
song:


   “It is crying, it is crying,
    The child of the walker by moonlight.
    It was done intentionally by people whose names are unmentionable.
    They sent her for water during the day.
    She tried to dip with the milk-basket, and then it sank.
    Tried to dip with the ladle, and then it sank.
    Tried to dip with the mantle, and then it sank.”


With the name as a chorus at the end of each line.

Then she took her child and put it to her breast to suck.

When the child had finished sucking, she gave it back to the nurse,
telling her to take it home. She commanded the nurse never to say to
any one that she came out of the water, and told her that when people
asked where the child got food she must say she gave it berries to eat.

This continued for some days. Every night the nurse took the child to
the river, when its mother came out and suckled it. She always looked
round to see that no one was present, and always put the same command
on the girl.

After a time the father of the child returned from hunting. They told
him of Tangalimlibo’s going to the river and not returning. Then the
nurse brought the child to him. He inquired what it ate, and was told
that berries were given to it.

He said: “That cannot be so; go and get some berries, and let me see my
child eat them.”

The girl went and brought some berries, but they were not eaten by the
child. Then the father of the child beat the girl until she told the
truth. She said she went at night to the river, when the mother came
out and caressed her child and gave it of her milk.

Then they made a plan that the husband of Tangalimlibo should hide
himself in the reeds and try and catch his wife when she came out of
the water. He took the skin of an ox and cut it into a long riem, one
end of which he fastened round his waist. The other end he gave to the
men of that village, telling them to hold it fast and to pull hard when
they felt it being drawn from them.

At night the man hid himself in the reeds. Tangalimlibo came out of the
water and looked all round while she was singing her song. She asked
the girl if any one was there, and when the girl replied that there was
no one she took her child. Then her husband sprang upon her, clasping
her very tight. She tried to pull back, but the men at the village drew
upon the riem. She was drawn away, but the river followed her, and its
water turned into blood. When it came close to the village, the men who
were pulling at the riem saw it, and became frightened. They let the
riem go, when the river at once went back, taking Tangalimlibo with it.

After that her husband was told of the voice which came from the water,
saying:

“Go to my father and my mother and tell them I am taken by the river.”

He called his racing ox, and said:

“Will you, my ox, take this message to the father and mother of
Tangalimlibo?”

The ox only bellowed.

He called his dog, and said:

“Will you, my dog, take this message to the father and mother of
Tangalimlibo?”

The dog only barked.

Last of all he called the cock.

He said: “Will you, my cock, take this message to the father and mother
of Tangalimlibo?”

The cock answered: “I will do so, my master.”

He said: “Let me hear what you will say.”

The cock answered: “I will sing——


   “I am a cock that ought not to be killed—Cock-a-doodle-doo!
    I have come to intimate about Tangalimlibo—Cock-a-doodle-doo!
    Tangalimlibo is dead—Cock-a-doodle-doo!
    She dipped water for a person that cannot be
    named—Cock-a-doodle-doo!
    It was tried to send an ox; it bellowed—Cock-a-doodle-doo!
    It was tried to send a dog; it barked—Cock-a-doodle-doo!”


The chief said: “That is good, my cock, go now.”

As the cock was going on his way, some boys who were tending calves saw
him.

One of them said to the others: “Come here, come here, boys; there is a
cock for us to kill.”

Then the cock stood up, and sang his song.

The boys said: “Sing again, we did not hear you plainly.”

So he sang again:


   “I am a cock that ought not to be killed—Cock-a-doodle-doo!
    I have come to intimate about Tangalimlibo—Cock-a-doodle-doo!
    Tangalimlibo is dead—Cock-a-doodle-doo!
    She dipped water for a person that cannot be
    named—Cock-a-doodle-doo!
    It was tried to send an ox; it bellowed—Cock-a-doodle-doo!
    It was tried to send a dog; it barked—Cock-a-doodle-doo!”


Then the boys let him go on his way.

He travelled far from that place and came to a village, where the men
were sitting in the kraal. He flew up on the back of the kraal to rest
himself, and the men saw him.

They said: “Where does this cock come from? We thought all the cocks
here were killed. Make haste, boys, and kill him.”

The cock began to sing his song.

Then the men said: “Wait, boys, we wish to hear what he says.”

They said to him: “Begin again, we did not hear you.”

The cock said: “Give me some food, for I am very hungry.”

The men sent a boy for some millet, and gave it to him. When he had
eaten, he sang his song.

The men said: “Let him go;” and he went on his way.

Then he came to the village of the father of Tangalimlibo, to the house
of those he was seeking. He told the message he was sent to carry. The
mother of Tangalimlibo was a woman skilful in the use of medicines.

She said to her husband: “Get a fat ox to go with us.”

They arrived at the river, and killed the ox.

Then that woman worked with her medicines while they put the meat in
the water. There was a great shaking and a rising up of the river, and
Tangalimlibo came out. There was great joy among those people when they
took her home to her husband.



STORY OF THE GIRL WHO DISREGARDED THE CUSTOM OF NTONJANE.


There was once a chief’s daughter who had reached the age when it was
necessary for her to observe the ntonjane. She was therefore placed in
a hut, in which she was to remain during the period of the ceremony.
One day her companions persuaded her to go and bathe in a stream near
at hand, though this was against the custom of the ntonjane. When they
came out of the water, they saw a snake with black blotches, called the
Isinyobolokondwana, near their clothes. They were very much afraid, and
did not know what to do at first. But by-and-by one of them commenced
to sing these words:


   “Sinyobolokondwana,
    Sinyobolokondwana,
    Bring my mantle!”


The snake replied:


   “Take it,
    And pass on.”


The companions of the chief’s daughter, one after the other, asked the
snake for their mantles in this manner, and obtained permission to take
them. Last of all was the chief’s daughter. But instead of speaking to
the snake respectfully as the others had done, she said mockingly,
“Ngcingcingci, ngcingcingci.” [1] So the snake became very angry, and
bit her, when she immediately became of the same hideous colour as it
was. Her companions were so frightened that they left her and ran away
home. They put another girl in the hut, and pretended that she was the
chief’s daughter. The girl, thus left alone, went to a forest close by,
and climbed up a tree to hide herself.

About this time the chief was killing an ox on account of his daughter,
and so he sent a young man to the forest to get pieces of wood with
which to peg out the skin. The young man was cutting sticks, when he
heard some one crying: “Man cutting sticks, tell my father and mother
that the sinyobolokondwana bit me.” He heard this repeated twice, and,
without looking to see what was crying, he ran home and told the chief.
Two young men were then sent back with him to see what it was, one of
these happening to be the girl’s brother. These two were told to hide
themselves and listen while the other cut the sticks. They did so, and
heard the voice crying as before. Then the brother of the girl knew the
voice of his sister, and they all went to the tree where she was, and
took her home with them.

The chief was very much surprised to see his daughter in that state,
and was so angry with her companions for taking her to the river, and
then for substituting another girl so as to deceive him, that he caused
them all to be killed.

Then he sent some of his men with forty cattle to take his daughter to
a distant country, where she was to remain far away from him. They did
as they were told, and built huts in that place to live in. After they
had been there a long time, they found that the cows which the chief
sent with them were giving more milk than they could consume, so they
poured what was left in a hole in the ground. To their amazement, the
milk rose, and rose, and rose, higher and still higher, till at last it
stood up out of the ground like a great overhanging rock. They called
the girl to see this wonderful thing that was happening. In her
curiosity she went close to the precipice, when it fell down on her,
and, as the milk ran over her, all her ugly blotched skin disappeared,
and she was again beautiful as at first.

Soon afterwards a young chief who was passing by saw the girl, and fell
in love with her. He thought she was the daughter of one of the men who
were there to protect her, but when he made inquiries they told him she
was the daughter of their chief. Then he went to her father, and some
of the men went also to tell how the milk had cured the girl. The young
chief had very many cattle, which he offered to her father. So the old
chief agreed to let him marry the girl, and she became his great wife,
and was loved by him very dearly.



THE STORY OF SIMBUKUMBUKWANA.


There was a man whose wife had no children, so that he was much
dissatisfied. At last he went to a wise woman (Igqirakazi) and asked
her to help him in this matter. She said: “You must bring me a fat calf
that I may get its tallow to use with my medicine” (or charms—the
Kaffir word is Imifizi). The man went home and selected a calf without
horns or tail, which he took to the wise woman. She said: “Your wife
will have a son who will have no arms and no legs, as this calf has no
horns and no tail.” She told him, further, that he was not to inform
any one of this.

The man returned to his home and told his friends what was to happen.
Not long after this his wife bore a child, but it was a daughter and
had arms and legs. The man would not own that child, he said it was not
his. He beat his wife, and commanded her to take the child away and
leave it to perish. Then he went to the wise woman, and told her what
had taken place. The wise woman said: “It was because you did not obey
my command about keeping this matter to yourself, but your wife will
yet have a son without arms and without legs.”

It was so. His wife bore another child, which was a boy without arms
and without legs, therefore he was called Simbukumbukwana. He began to
speak on the day of his birth. During this time the girl that was first
born was growing up in the valley where her mother left her; she lived
in a hole in an ant-heap, and ate honey, and “nongwes,” and gum.

One day the mother of Simbukumbukwana went to work in her garden, and
left the boy at home with the door fastened. While she was away the
girl came; she stood at a distance and said: “Where are the people?”

There came a voice from inside which said: “Here am I.”

She said: “Who are you?”

The voice replied: “I am Simbukumbukwana.”

She said: “Open for me.”

He answered: “How can I open? I have no legs and no arms.”

She said: “My mother’s Simbukumbukwana, have legs and arms”
(Simbukumbukwana sikama, yiba nemilenze nemikono).

Then legs and arms came on the boy, and he arose and opened for his
sister. She went in and swept the floor; then she took millet and
ground it and made bread. She told her brother when his parents asked
him who did these things to say that he did them himself, and if they
should ask him to do them again to reply, “I have done it already.”
Then she said: “My mother’s Simbukumbukwana, sink legs and sink arms”
(Simbukumbukwana sikama, tshona milenze tshona mikono). Then his legs
and arms shrunk up, and his sister went away.

After a time his father and his mother came home; they went in and saw
the clean floor and bread ready for eating. They were surprised, and
said to Simbukumbukwana, “Who did this?”

He replied: “I did.”

They said: “Do so again that we may see you.”

He answered: “I have done it already.”

The next day the woman went again to work in her garden, but the man
hid himself to watch what would happen. After a time came the sister of
Simbukumbukwana and said: “Where are the people?” (Exactly the same
conversation as before.) She went in and began to smear the floor;
water was wanting, so she sent Simbukumbukwana to the river for some.
His joy in walking was great, so that he did not stop at the river, but
put the pot down there and continued to go forward. The girl thought he
ought not to be so long absent, for the river was close by, so she went
to look for him. She saw him walking up a hill far away, and she called
to him to return. He would not. Then she sang, Simbukumbukwana sikama,
tshona milenze, tshona mikono, and immediately his legs shrank up. Then
she was going away, but her father came out and caught her; he kissed
her, and said she must remain with him.

Her mother was coming home, when she saw something moving on the
hillside. She went to see what it was, and found her son. She said:
“How did you come here?”

He replied: “I came by myself.”

She said: “Let me see you go further.”

He answered: “I have done it already.”

Then she put him on her back and went home. She found her daughter
there, and her husband much pleased. The girl said: Simbukumbukwana
sikama, yiba nemilenze nemikono, and legs and arms came on him.

One day his sister and some other girls went to get red clay, and he
followed them. When they looked behind they saw him, and his sister got
angry. She said to him: “What do you want here?”

He replied: “I am going for red clay for my mother.”

His sister compelled him to sit down; but as soon as they went on, he
followed; then his sister beat him, and left him in the path. After
that there was a heavy storm of rain, but none fell where the little
boy was. When the rain was over, the other girls said to the one who
had beaten her brother: “Let us go and look after the little boy.” They
went and saw he was quite dry. He called to his sister: “You have
beaten me,” but she asked him to forgive her.

Then he said: “I want my father’s house to be here,” and immediately it
came.

He said: “I want the fire of my father to be here,” and there was a
fire.

He said to them: “Now go in; although you have beaten me, there is a
house and fire for you.”

He said afterwards: “I want the cattle of my father to be here,” and at
once they were all there.

That was a nice place, so they remained there ever after.



THE STORY OF SIKULUME.


There was once in a certain village an old man who was very poor. He
had no children, and only a few cattle. One day, when the sky was clear
and the sun was bright, he sat down by the cattle-fold. While he was
sitting there, he noticed some birds close by which were singing very
joyfully. He listened for a while, and then he stood up to observe them
better. They were very beautiful to look upon, and they sang
differently from other birds. They had all long tails and topknots on
their heads. Then the old man went to the chief and told him what he
had seen.

The chief said: “How many were they?”

The old man replied: “There were seven.”

The chief said: “You have acted wisely in coming to tell me; you shall
have seven of the fattest of my cows. I have lost seven sons in battle,
and these beautiful birds shall be in the place of my seven sons. You
must not sleep to-night; you must watch them, and to-morrow I will
choose seven boys to catch them. Do not let them out of your sight by
any means.”

In the morning the chief ordered all the boys of the village to be
assembled at the cattle-fold, when he spoke to them of the birds. He
said: “I will choose six of you, and set my son who is dumb, over you,
that will make seven in all. You must catch those birds. Wherever they
go, you must follow, and you must not see my face again without them.”
He gave them weapons, and instructed them that if any one opposed them
they were to fight till the last of them died.

The boys set off to follow those beautiful birds. They chased them for
several days, till at last the birds were exhausted, when each of the
boys caught one. At the place where they caught the birds they remained
that night.

On the morning of the next day they set out on their return home. That
evening they came to a hut in which they saw a fire burning, but no one
was there. They went in, and lay down to sleep. In the middle of the
night one of those boys was awake. He heard some one saying: “There is
nice meat here. I will begin with this one, and take this one next, and
that one after, and the one with small feet the last.” The one with the
small feet was the son of the chief. His name was Sikulume, for he had
never been able to speak till he caught the bird. Then he began to talk
at once.

After saying those words the voice was still. Then the boy awakened his
companions, and told them what he had heard.

They said: “You have been dreaming; there is no one here; how can such
a thing be?”

He replied: “I did not dream; I spoke the truth.”

Then they made a plan that one should remain awake, and if anything
happened, he should pinch the one next him, and that one should pinch
the next, till all were awake.

After a while the boy who was listening heard some one come in quietly.
That was a cannibal. He said the same words again, and then went out
for the purpose of calling his friends to come to the feast. The boy
awakened his companions according to the plan agreed upon, so that they
all heard what was said. Therefore, as soon as the cannibal went out,
they arose and fled from that place. The cannibal came back with his
friends, and when the others saw there was no one in the hut, they
killed and ate him.

As they were going on, Sikulume saw that he had left his bird behind.
He stood, and said: “I must return for my bird, my beautiful bird with
the long tail and topknot on its head. My father commanded that I must
not see his face again unless I bring the bird.”

The boys said: “Take one of ours. Why should you go where cannibals
are?”

He replied: “I must have the one that is my own.”

He stuck his assagai in the ground, and told them to look at it. He
said: “If it stands still, you will know I am safe; if it shakes, you
will know I am running; if it falls down, you will know I am dead.”
Then he left them to return to the hut of the cannibals.

On the way he saw an old woman sitting by a big stone. She said: “Where
are you going to?” He told her he was going for his bird. The old woman
gave him some fat, and said: “If the cannibals pursue you, put some of
this on a stone.”

He came to the hut and got his bird. The cannibals were sitting
outside, a little way back. They had just finished eating the owner of
the hut. When Sikulume came out with his bird they saw him and ran
after him. They were close to him, when he took some of the fat and
threw it on a stone. The cannibals came to the stone, and began to
fight with each other.

One said: “The stone is mine.”

Another said: “It is mine.”

One of them swallowed the stone. When the others saw that, they killed
him and ate him. Then they pursued again after Sikulume. They came
close to him again, when he threw the remainder of the fat on another
stone. The cannibals fought for this also. One swallowed it, and was
killed by the others.

They followed still, and Sikulume was almost in their hands, when he
threw off his mantle. The mantle commenced to run another way, and the
cannibals ran after it. It was so long before they caught it that the
young chief had time to reach his companions.

They all went on their way, but very soon they saw the cannibals coming
after them. Then they observed a little man sitting by a big stone.

He said to them: “I can turn this stone into a hut.”

They replied: “Do so.”

He turned the stone into a hut, and they all went inside, the little
man with them. They played the “iceya” there. The cannibals came to the
place and smelt. They thought the hut was still a stone, for it looked
like a stone to them. They began to bite it, and bit till all their
teeth were broken, when they returned to their own village.

After this, the boys and the little man came out.

The boys went on. When they reached their own home they saw no people,
till at length an old woman crept out of a heap of ashes. She was very
much frightened, and said to them: “I thought there were no people
left.”

Sikulume said: “Where is my father?”

She replied: “All the people have been swallowed by the inabulele” (a
fabulous monster).

He said: “Where did it go to?”

The old woman replied: “It went to the river.”

So those boys went to the river, and Sikulume said to them: “I will go
into the water, and take an assagai with me. If the water moves much,
you will know I am in the stomach of the inabulele; if the water is
red, you will know I have killed it.” Then he threw himself into the
water and went down.

The inabulele swallowed him without tearing him or hurting him. He saw
his father and his mother and many people and cattle. Then he took his
assagai and pierced the inabulele from inside. The water moved till the
inabulele was dead, then it became red. When the young men saw that,
they cut a big hole in the side of the inabulele, and all the people
and the cattle were delivered.

One day Sikulume said to another boy: “I am going to the doctor’s; tell
my sister to cook food for me, nice food that I may eat.” This was
done.

He said to his sister: “Bring me of the skin of the inabulele which I
killed, to make a mantle.” She called her companions, and they went to
the side of the river. She sang this song:—


   “Inabulele,
    Inabulele,
    I am sent for you
    By Sikulume,
    Inabulele.”


The body of the inabulele then came out. She cut two little pieces of
the skin for sandals, and a large piece to make a mantle for her
brother.

When he was a young man, Sikulume said to his friends: “I am going to
marry the daughter of Mangangezulu.”

They replied: “You must not go there, for at Mangangezulu’s you will be
killed.”

He said: “I will go.”

Then he called those young men who were his chosen friends to accompany
him. On the way they came to a place where the grass was long. A mouse
came out of the grass, and asked Sikulume where he was going to.

He replied: “I am going to the place of Mangangezulu.”

The mouse sang this song:—


   “Turn back, turn back, Sikulume.
    No one ever leaves the place of Mangangezulu.
    Turn back, turn back, O chief.”


Sikulume replied: “I shall not turn back.”

The mouse then said: “As it is so, you must kill me and throw my skin
up in the air.”

He did so.

The skin said: “You must not enter by the front of the village; you
must not eat off a new mat; you must not sleep in a hut which has
nothing in it.”

They arrived at the village of Mangangezulu. They entered it from the
wrong side, so that all the people said: “Why is this?”

They replied: “It is our custom.”

Food was brought to them on a new mat, but they said: “It is our custom
to eat off old mats only.”

An empty hut was given to them to sleep in, but they said: “It is our
custom only to sleep in a hut that has things in it.”

The next day the chief said to Sikulume and his companions: “You must
go and tend the cattle.”

They went. A storm of rain fell, when Sikulume spread out his mantle
and it became a hut as hard as stone, into which they all went. In the
evening they returned with the cattle. The daughter of Mangangezulu
came to them. Her mother pressed her foot in the footprint of Sikulume,
and he became an eland.

The girl loved the young chief very much. When she saw he was turned
into an eland, she made a great fire and drove him into it. Then he was
burned, and became a little coal. She took the coal out and put it in a
pot of water, when it became a young man again.

Afterwards they left that place. The girl took with her an egg, a
milksack, a pot, and a smooth stone. The father of the girl pursued
them.

The girl threw down the egg, and it became a mist. Her father wandered
about in the mist a long time, till at length it cleared away. Then he
pursued again.

She threw down the milksack, and it became a sheet of water. Her father
tried to get rid of the water by dipping it up with a calabash, but he
could not succeed, so he was compelled to wait till it dried up. He
followed still.

The girl threw down the pot, and it became thick darkness. He waited a
long time till light came again, when he followed them. He could travel
very quickly.

He came close to them, and then the girl threw down the smooth stone.
It became a rock, a big rock with one side steep like a wall. He could
not climb up that rock, and so he returned to his own village.

Then Sikulume went home with his wife. He said to the people: “This is
the daughter of Mangangezulu. You advised me not to go there, lest I
should be killed. Here is my wife.”

After that he became a great chief. All the people said: “There is no
chief that can do such things as Sikulume.”



THE STORY OF HLAKANYANA.


Once upon a time there was a village with many women in it. All the
women had children at the same time except the wife of the chief. The
children grew, and again all the women gave birth to others. Only the
wife of the chief had no child. Then the people said: “Let us kill an
ox, perhaps the wife of the chief will then bear a child.”

While they were killing the ox, the woman heard a voice saying: “Bear
me, mother, before the meat of my father is all finished.”

The woman did not pay any attention to that, thinking it was a ringing
in her ears. The voice said again: “Bear me, mother, before the meat of
my father is all finished.”

The woman took a small piece of wood and cleaned her ears. She heard
that voice again. Then she became excited. She said: “There is
something in my ears; I would like to know what it is. I have just now
cleaned my ears.”

The voice said again: “Make haste and bear me, mother, before the meat
of my father is all finished.”

The woman said: “What is this? there was never a child that could speak
before it was born.”

The voice said again: “Bear me, mother, as all my father’s cattle are
being finished, and I have not yet eaten anything of them.” Then the
woman gave birth to that child.

When she saw that to which she had given birth, she was very much
astonished. It was a boy, but in size very little, and with a face that
looked like that of an old person.

He said to his mother: “Mother, give me a skin robe.” His mother gave
him a robe. Then he went at once to the kraal where the ox was being
killed.

He asked for some meat, saying: “Father, father, give me a piece of
meat.”

The chief was astonished to hear this child calling him father. He
said: “Oh, men, what thing is this that calls me father?” So he
continued with the skinning of the ox. But Hlakanyana continued also in
asking meat from him. The chief became very angry, and pushed him, and
said: “Get away from this place.”

Hlakanyana answered: “I am your child, give me meat.”

The chief took a little stick, and said: “If you trouble me again, I
will strike you with this.”

Hlakanyana replied: “Give me meat first, and I will go away;” but the
chief would not answer, because he was very angry.

Hlakanyana continued asking. Then the chief threw him outside the
kraal, and went on with his work. After a little time, the child
returned, still asking.

So the chief said to the men that were with him: “What strange thing is
this?”

The men replied: “We don’t know him at all.”

The chief asked of them also advice, saying: “What shall I do?”

The men replied: “Give him a piece of meat.”

So the chief cut off a piece of meat and gave it to him. Hlakanyana ran
to his mother and gave the meat to her to be cooked.

Then he returned to his father, and said again: “Father, give me some
meat.”

The chief just took him and trampled upon him, and threw him outside of
the kraal, thinking that he was dead.

But he rose again and returned to his father, still saying: “Father,
give me some meat.”

Then the chief thought to get rid of him by giving him meat again. The
chief gave him a piece of liver. Hlakanyana threw it away. Fat was then
given to him. He put it down on one side. Flesh was then given to him,
and a bone with much marrow in it.

Hlakanyana said: “I am a man to-day.” He said: “This is the beginning
of my father’s cattle.”

At this time the men were saying to each other: “Who will carry the
meat to our huts?”

Hlakanyana answered: “I will do it.”

They said: “How can such a thing as you are carry meat?”

Hlakanyana replied: “I am stronger than you; just see if you can lift
this piece of meat.”

The men tried, but could not lift it. Then Hlakanyana took the piece of
meat and carried it out of the kraal. The men said: “That will do now,
carry our meat for us.”

Hlakanyana took the meat and carried it to the house of his mother. He
took blood and put it on the eating mats at the houses of the men. The
men went to their houses, and said: “Where is our meat?” They called
Hlakanyana, and asked him what he had done with the meat.

He replied: “Surely I put it here where the blood is. It must have been
taken by the dogs. Surely the dogs have eaten it.”

Then those men beat the women and children because they did not watch
that the dogs did not take the meat. As for Hlakanyana, he only
delighted in this trick of his. He was more cunning than any of the old
men.

Hlakanyana said to his mother, that she must put the meat in the pot to
cook, but that it must not be eaten before the next morning. It was
done. In the night this cunning little fellow rose and went to the pot.
His mother heard something at the pot, and struck with a stick.
Hlakanyana cried like a dog. His mother said: “Surely a dog is eating
the meat.” Hlakanyana returned afterwards, and left nothing but bones
in the pot. In the morning he asked his mother for meat. His mother
went to the pot, and found nothing but bones. The cunning little fellow
pretended to be astonished.

He said: “Where is the meat, mother?”

His mother replied: “It has been eaten by a dog.”

Hlakanyana said: “As that is so, give me the bones, for you who are the
wife of the chief will not eat from the same pot with a dog.”

His mother gave him the bones.

Hlakanyana went to sleep in the same house with the boys. The boys were
unwilling to let him sleep with them. They laughed at him.

They said: “Who are you? You are just a child of a few days.”

Hlakanyana answered: “I am older than you.”

He slept there that night. When the boys were asleep, he got up and
went to the cattle kraal. He killed two cows and ate all their insides.
He took blood and smeared it on one of the boys who was sleeping. In
the morning the men found those two dead cows.

They said: “Who has done this thing?”

They found the boy with blood upon him, and killed him, because they
thought he was the robber.

Hlakanyana said within himself: “I told them that I was older than they
are; to-day it is seen who is a child and who is a man.”

Another day the father of Hlakanyana killed an ox. The head was put in
a pot to be cooked. Then Hlakanyana considered in his mind how he could
get that meat. So he drove all the cattle of the village into a forest,
a very thick forest, and tied them by their tails to the trees. After
that he cut his arms, and legs, and breast, with a sharp stone, and
stood on a hill, and cried out with a loud voice: “The enemy has taken
our cattle; the cattle are being driven away. Come up, come up; there
is an army going away with the cattle.”

The men ran quickly to him.

He said to them: “Why are you eating meat while the enemy is going away
with the cattle? I was fighting with them; just look at my body.”

They saw he was covered with blood, and they believed it was as he
said. So the men took their assagais and ran after the cattle, but they
took the wrong way. Only one old man and Hlakanyana were left behind.

Then Hlakanyana said to the old man: “I am very tired with fighting;
just go to the river, grandfather, and get some water.”

The old man went; and as soon as he was alone, Hlakanyana ate the meat
which was in the pot. When the old man returned with the water he was
very tired, for the river was far for an old man to go to, therefore he
fell asleep. When he was sleeping, Hlakanyana took a bone and put it
beside the old man. He also took some fat and put it on the mouth of
the old man. Then he ran to the forest and loosened the cattle that
were tied by the tails.

At this time the men were returning from seeking the enemy. Hlakanyana
was coming also from the other side with the cattle.

He shouted: “I have conquered the enemy.” He also said: “The meat must
be eaten now.”

When they opened the pot they found no meat. They found only dung, for
Hlakanyana had filled the pot with dung.

Then the men said: “Who has done this?”

Hlakanyana answered: “It must be the old man who is sleeping there.”

They looked, and saw the bone by the side of the old man, and the fat
on his mouth. Then they said: “This is the thief.” They were intending
to kill the old man because he had stolen the meat of the chief.

When the children saw that the old man was to be killed, they said that
he did not eat the meat of the chief.

The men said: “We saw fat on his mouth and a bone beside him.”

The children replied: “He did not do it.”

The men said: “Tell us who did it.”

The children answered: “Hlakanyana ate the meat and put dung in the
pot. We were concealed, and we saw him do it.”

Hlakanyana denied. He said: “Let me go and ask the women; perhaps they
saw who ate the meat of the chief.”

The men sent a young man with him to the women; but when they were a
short distance away, Hlakanyana escaped.

The chief sent an army after him. The army pursued, and saw Hlakanyana
sitting by a bush. They ran to catch him. When they came to the bush,
only an old woman was sitting there.

They said to her: “Where is Hlakanyana?”

The old woman replied: “He just went across that river. See, you must
make haste to follow him, for the river is rising.”

The army passed over the river quickly. Then that old woman turned into
Hlakanyana again. He said in himself: “I will now go on a journey, for
I am wiser than the councillors of my father, I being older than they.”

The little cunning fellow went to a village, where he saw an old woman
sitting beside her house.

He said to her: “Would you like to be made young, grandmother?”

The old woman replied: “Yes, my grandchild; if you could make me young,
I would be very glad.”

Hlakanyana said: “Take that pot, grandmother, and go for some water.”

The old woman replied: “I cannot walk.”

Hlakanyana said: “Just try, grandmother; the river is close by, and
perhaps you will be able to reach it.”

The old woman limped along and got the water.

Then Hlakanyana took a large pot and set it on the fire, and poured the
water into it.

He said to the old woman: “You must cook me a little first, and then I
will cook you a little.”

The old woman agreed to that. Hlakanyana was the first to be put in the
pot. When the water began to get hot, he said: “Take me out,
grandmother; I am in long enough.”

The old woman took him out, and went in the pot for her turn. Soon she
said: “Take me out now, my grandchild; I am in long enough.”

Hlakanyana replied: “Not yet, grandmother; it is not yet time.”

So the old woman died in the pot.

Hlakanyana took all the bones of the old woman and threw them away. He
left only the toes and the fingers. Then he took the clothing of the
old woman and put it on. The two sons of this old woman came from
hunting.

They went into the hut, and said: “Whose meat is this in the pot?”

Hlakanyana was lying down. He said in a voice like that of their
mother: “It is yours, my sons.”

While they were eating, the younger one said: “Look at this, it is like
the toe of mother.”

The elder one said: “How can you say such a thing? Did not mother give
us this meat to eat?”

Again the younger one said: “Look at this, it is like the finger of
mother.”

Hlakanyana said: “You are speaking evil of me, my son.”

Hlakanyana said in himself: “I shall be discovered; it is time for me
to flee.” So he slipped quietly out of the house and went on his way.
When he got a little way off, he called out: “You are eating your
mother. Did any one ever see people eating their mother before?”

The two young men took their assagais and ran after him with their
dogs. They came to the river; it was full.

The cunning fellow changed himself into a little round stone. One of
the young men picked up this stone, saying: “If I could see him, I
would just throw this stone at him.” The young man threw the stone over
the river, and it turned into Hlakanyana again. He just laughed at
those young men.

Hlakanyana went on his way. He was singing this song:—


    Ndahlangana Nonothloya.      I met with Nonothloya.
    Sapekapekana,                We cooked each other,
    Ndagwanya,                   I was half cooked,
    Wapekwa wada wavutwa.        She was well cooked.


Hlakanyana met a boy tending some goats. The boy had a digging-stick
with him. Hlakanyana proposed that they should pursue after birds, and
the boy agreed. They pursued birds the whole day.

In the evening, when the sun set, Hlakanyana said: “It is time now to
roast our birds.”

The place was on the bank of a river.

Hlakanyana said: “We must go under the water and see who will come out
last.”

They went under the water, and Hlakanyana came out last.

The cunning fellow said: “Let us try again.”

The boy agreed to that. They went under the water. Hlakanyana came out
quickly and ate all the birds. He left the heads only. Then he went
under the water again. The boy came out while he was still under the
water.

When Hlakanyana came out he said: “Let us go now and eat our birds.”

They found all the birds eaten.

Hlakanyana said: “You have eaten them, because you came out of the
water first, and you have left me the heads only.”

The boy denied having done so, but Hlakanyana said: “You must pay for
my birds with that digging-stick.”

The boy gave the digging-stick, and Hlakanyana went on his way.

He saw some people making pots of clay. He said to them: “Why do you
not ask me to lend you this digging-stick, instead of digging with your
hands?”

They said: “Lend it to us.”

Hlakanyana lent them the digging-stick. Just the first time they stuck
it in the clay it broke.

He said: “You have broken my digging-stick, the digging-stick that I
received from my companion, my companion who ate my birds and left me
with the heads.”

They gave him a pot.

Hlakanyana carried the pot till he came to some boys who were herding
goats. He said to them: “You foolish boys, you only suck the goats, you
don’t milk them in any vessel; why don’t you ask me to lend you this
pot?”

The boys said: “Lend it to us.”

Hlakanyana lent them the pot. While the boys were milking, the pot
broke. Hlakanyana said: “You have broken my pot, the pot that I
received from the people who make pots, the people who broke my
digging-stick, the digging-stick that I received from my companion, my
companion who ate my birds and left me with the heads.”

The boys gave him a goat.

Hlakanyana came to the keepers of calves.

He said to them: “You foolish fellows, you only sit here and eat
nothing. Why don’t you ask me to let you suck this goat?”

The keepers of calves said: “Allow us to suck this goat.”

Hlakanyana gave the goat into their hands. While they were sucking, the
goat died.

Hlakanyana said: “You have killed my goat, the goat that I received
from the boys that were tending goats, the boys that broke my pot, the
pot that I received from the people who make pots, the people who broke
my digging-stick, the digging-stick that I received from my companion,
my companion who ate my birds and left me with the heads.”

They gave him a calf.

Hlakanyana came to the keepers of cows.

He said to them: “You only suck the cows without letting the calf suck
first. Why don’t you ask me to lend you this calf, that the cows may be
induced to give their milk freely?”

They said: “Lend us the calf.”

Hlakanyana permitted them to take the calf. While the calf was in their
hands it died.

Hlakanyana said: “You have killed my calf, the calf that I received
from the keepers of calves, the keepers of calves that killed my goat,
the goat that I received from the boys that were tending goats, the
boys that broke my pot, the pot that I received from the people who
make pots, the people who broke my digging-stick, the digging-stick
that I received from my companion, my companion who ate my birds and
left me with the heads.”

They gave him a cow.

Hlakanyana continued on his journey. He saw a young man going the same
way.

He said: “Let us be companions and travel together.”

The young man agreed to that. They came to a forest.

Hlakanyana said: “This is the place for picking up kerries.”

They picked up kerries there.

Then they reached another place, and Hlakanyana said: “This is the
place for throwing away kerries.”

They threw the kerries away.

Again they came to another place, and Hlakanyana said: “This is the
place for throwing away spoons.”

The companion of Hlakanyana threw his spoon away, but the cunning
little fellow only pretended to throw his away. In fact, he concealed
his spoon. They went on.

They came to another place, and Hlakanyana said: “This is the place for
throwing knives away.”

It happened again as with the spoons. Hlakanyana concealed his knife,
when his companion threw his away.

They came to a certain place, and Hlakanyana said: “This is the place
for throwing away izilanda” (awls used to make holes in skins when they
are sewed together, and also for taking thorns out of the bare feet and
legs of pedestrians).

His companion threw his isilanda away, but Hlakanyana kept his. They
went on and reached a place where they had to walk on thorns.
Afterwards they looked at their feet, and saw many thorns in them.

Hlakanyana said: “Let us sit down and take out the thorns.”

His companion replied: “I cannot do so, because I have no isilanda.”

Then Hlakanyana took the thorns out of his feet, and the other was
obliged to walk lame. They came to a village.

The people said to them: “Tell us the news.”

Hlakanyana replied: “Just give us something to eat first; look at our
stomachs and behold the pinchings of hunger.”

The people of that village brought meat.

Hlakanyana said to his companion: “Now let us eat.”

The companion of Hlakanyana answered: “I have no knife.”

Hlakanyana said: “You are just a child; I shall not lend you my knife.”

The people of that village brought millet and put before them.

Hlakanyana said to his companion: “Why do you not eat?”

He answered: “I have no spoon.”

Hlakanyana said: “You are just a child; I shall not lend you my spoon.”

So Hlakanyana had all the meat and the millet to himself.

Hlakanyana met a girl herding some goats.

He said: “Where are the boys of your village, that the goats are herded
by a girl?”

The girl answered: “There are no boys in the village.”

He went to the father of the girl and said: “You must give me your
daughter to be my concubine, and I will herd the goats.”

The father of the girl agreed to that. Then Hlakanyana went with the
goats, and every day he killed one and ate it till all were done. He
scratched his body with thorns.

The father of the girl said: “Where are all the goats?”

Hlakanyana replied: “Can you not see how I have been fighting with the
wild dogs? The wild dogs have eaten the goats. As for me, I will stay
here no longer.”

So he went on his way.

As he was going on, he saw a trap for catching birds. There were some
birds in it. Hlakanyana took the birds out and ate them. The owners of
the trap were cannibals. They saw the footprints of Hlakanyana, and
said: “This is a little boy that is stealing our birds.” They watched
for him. Hlakanyana came again to the trap and saw a bird caught in it.
He was just going to take the bird out when the cannibals caught him.
They made a big fire and put a pot on for the purpose of cooking him.
Hlakanyana saw two oxen. One was white, the other was red.

He said to the cannibals: “You can take which one of these oxen you
like instead of me.”

The cannibals said: “We will take the white one, because it is white
inside also.”

Then Hlakanyana went away with the red ox. The cannibals ate the white
ox, and then pursued after Hlakanyana. They came up to him by a big
stone. He jumped on the stone, and sang this song:—


    Ndahamba ndayakuva indaba,      I went to hear the news,
    Zemvula ku mankazana.           About rain from the girls.


The cannibals began to dance when they heard him sing. Then he ran
away, and the stone continued to sing that song.

As he was journeying, Hlakanyana came to a place where some baboons
were feasting. He asked them for some food.

The baboons replied: “If you will go for some water for us, we will
give you food.”

He agreed to that. When he returned with the water, the baboons refused
to give him food. Then Hlakanyana shouted loudly and said: “At my
village there is a marriage of baboons to-day.”

When the baboons heard that they fled, old and young. So Hlakanyana
remained there, and ate all the food.

As he was going along, he saw a hyena building a house, having cooked
some meat. Hlakanyana asked the hyena to give him some.

The hyena said: “No, I will not give you any; it is too little even for
me.”

Hlakanyana said: “Will you not have me to assist in building?”

The hyena replied: “I would have you without delay if you are intending
to help me.”

While they were fastening the thatch, Hlakanyana sewed the hair of the
tail of the hyena fast. Then he took the pot and sat down.

The hyena said: “Let that pot alone, Hlakanyana.”

He replied: “I am going to eat now.”

The hyena wanted to come down, but he found his tail was fast.
Hlakanyana ate all the meat, and threw the bones at the hyena. The
hyena tried to frighten him by saying there were many hyenas coming
quickly to devour him. He just answered: “That is false;” and continued
eating till the meat was finished. Then he went on his way.

Hlakanyana came to a river. He saw an iguana that was playing on an
ugwali (a simple musical instrument).

Hlakanyana said to the iguana: “Lend me your ugwali for a little,
please.”

The iguana said: “No, you will run away with my ugwali.”

Hlakanyana replied: “How can I run away with a thing that is not mine?”

So the iguana lent him the ugwali. When Hlakanyana saw that he could
play upon the instrument nicely, he ran away with it. The iguana
pursued him. Then Hlakanyana changed himself into a rush. The iguana
took that rush and threw it across the river, saying: “If I could only
see him, I would throw him like this.” Then the rush turned to be
Hlakanyana again, and he went on his way playing on the ugwali of the
iguana.

Hlakanyana came to the house of a leopardess. He proposed to take care
of her children while the leopardess went to hunt animals. The
leopardess agreed to that. There were four cubs. After the leopardess
had gone to hunt, Hlakanyana took one of the cubs and ate it.

At the time for giving food, the leopardess came back and said: “Give
me my children that I may suckle them.”

Hlakanyana gave one.

The mother said: “Give all at once.”

Hlakanyana replied: “It is better that one should drink and then
another.”

The leopardess agreed to that. After three had drunk he gave the first
one back the second time. Then the leopardess went to hunt again.

Hlakanyana took another of the cubs and ate it. He also made the door
of the house very small so that the mother of the cubs could not come
in, and then he made a little hole in the ground at the back so that he
could go out. The next day the leopardess came to give her children
suck. There were only two left now. Hlakanyana gave them both back the
second time. After that the leopardess went away as before.

Hlakanyana ate another of the cubs, so that only one was left. When the
mother came, he gave this one four times. When he gave it the last time
the leopardess said: “Why does my child not drink to-day?” It was
already full, and did not want to drink more.

Hlakanyana replied: “I think this one is sick.”

The mother said: “You must take good care of it.”

Hlakanyana promised to do so, but when the leopardess was gone he ate
that one also.

The next day when the leopardess came there was no cub left to give
her. She tried to get in the house, but the door was too small. She sat
down in front to watch. Then Hlakanyana went out through the hole he
had made in the ground behind. The leopardess saw him and ran after
him. He went under a big rock, and cried out loudly for help, saying
the rock was falling.

The leopardess said: “What is that you are saying?”

Hlakanyana replied: “Do you not see that this rock is falling? Just
hold it up while I get a prop and put under it.”

The leopardess went to hold the rock up, and Hlakanyana did not return.
He just ran away from that place.

Hlakanyana came to the village of the animals. The animals had trees
that bore fruit. There was one tree that belonged to the chief of the
animals only. This tree was a very good one, bearing much fruit on it.
One day when all the animals were assembled, Hlakanyana asked them the
name of the tree of the chief. They did not know the name of that tree.
Then Hlakanyana sent a monkey to the chief to ask the name of the tree.
The chief told the monkey. As the monkey was returning, he struck his
foot against a stone and fell down, which caused him to forget the name
of the tree.

In the night when all were sleeping, Hlakanyana went up the tree of the
chief and ate all the fruit of it. He took a branch of the tree and
fastened it to one of the monkeys. In the morning when the animals
awoke and found that the tree of the chief was finished in the night,
they asked each other: “What became of the fruit of the chiefs tree?
What became of the fruit of the tree of the chief?”

Hlakanyana looked at the monkey with the branch on him, and said: “It
is eaten by the monkey, it is eaten by the monkey; look at the branch
on him.”

The monkey denied, and said: “I don’t know anything about it. I never
ate the fruit of the tree of the chief.”

Hlakanyana said: “Let us make a plan to find out who ate the fruit of
the tree of the chief.”

All the animals agreed to this.

Hlakanyana said: “Let us put a rope from one rock to another, and let
all go over it. He that has eaten the fruit of the tree will fall down
from that rope.”

One of the monkeys went over first. The next was Hlakanyana himself. He
went over carefully and avoided falling. It came to the turn of that
monkey with the branch on. He tried to go, but when he was in the
middle he fell down.

Hlakanyana said therefore: “I have told you that it is this monkey.”

After that he went on his way.

Hlakanyana came to the house of a jackal. He asked for food, but the
jackal said there was none. Then he made a plan.

He said to the jackal: “You must climb up on the house and cry out with
a loud voice, ‘We are going to be fat to-day because Hlakanyana is
dead’”

The jackal did so. All the animals came running to hear that news. They
went inside the house, because the door was open. Then Hlakanyana shut
the door, and the animals were caught. After that Hlakanyana killed the
animals and ate.

Hlakanyana returned to the home of his father again. He was told that
his sister was gone away for some red clay. When she was returning he
shouted: “Let all the black cattle which have white teeth be killed.
The daughter of my father is coming who has white teeth.”

The chief said: “What is the matter with you, Hlakanyana?”

He just repeated the same thing.

The chief said: “Let a black ox be killed, but you must not break any
of its bones, because it belongs to the daughter of a chief.”

So Hlakanyana got fat meat to eat that day.

Hlakanyana went one day to tend the calves of his father. He met a
tortoise.

He said: “Where are you going to, tortoise?”

The tortoise answered: “To that big stone.”

Hlakanyana said: “Are you not tired?”

The tortoise replied: “No, I am not tired.”

Hlakanyana took it and put it on his back. Then he went to the house of
his mother.

His mother said: “What have you got there, my son?”

Hlakanyana answered: “Just take it off my back, mother.”

The tortoise held fast to Hlakanyana, and would not be pulled off. His
mother then heated some fat and poured on the tortoise. The tortoise
let go quickly, and the fat fell on Hlakanyana and burnt him, so that
he died. That is the end of this cunning little fellow.



THE STORY OF DEMANE AND DEMAZANA.


Once upon a time a brother and sister, who were twins and orphans, were
obliged on account of ill usage to run away from their relatives. The
boy’s name was Demane, the girl’s Demazana.

They went to live in a cave that had two holes to let in air and light,
the entrance to which was protected by a very strong door, with a
fastening inside. Demane went out hunting by day, and told his sister
that she was not to roast any meat while he was absent, lest the
cannibals should discover their retreat by the smell. The girl would
have been quite safe if she had done as her brother commanded. But she
was wayward, and one day she took some buffalo meat and put it on a
fire to roast.

A cannibal smelt the flesh cooking, and went to the cave, but found the
door fastened. So he tried to imitate Demane’s voice, and asked to be
admitted, singing this song:—


   “Demazana, Demazana,
    Child of my mother,
    Open this cave to me.
    The swallows can enter it.
    It has two apertures.”


Demazana said: “No. You are not my brother; your voice is not like
his.”

The cannibal went away, but after a little time came back again, and
spoke in another tone of voice: “Do let me in, my sister.”

The girl answered: “Go away, you cannibal; your voice is hoarse, you
are not my brother.”

So he went away and consulted with another cannibal. He said: “What
must I do to obtain what I desire?”

He was afraid to tell what his desire was, lest the other cannibal
should want a share of the girl.

His friend said: “You must burn your throat with a hot iron.”

He did so, and then no longer spoke hoarse. Again he presented himself
before the door of the cave, and sang,—


   “Demazana, Demazana,
    Child of my mother,
    Open this cave to me.
    The swallows can enter it.
    It has two apertures.”


The girl was deceived. She believed him to be her brother come back
from hunting, so she opened the door. The cannibal went in and seized
her.

As she was being carried away, she dropped some ashes here and there
along the path. Soon after this, Demane, who had taken nothing that day
but a swarm of bees, returned and found his sister gone. He guessed
what had happened, and followed the path by means of the ashes until he
came to Zim’s dwelling. The cannibal’s family were out gathering
firewood, but he was at home, and had just put Demazana in a big bag,
where he intended to keep her till the fire was made.

Demane said: “Give me water to drink, father.”

Zim replied: “I will, if you will promise not to touch my bag.”

Demane promised. Then Zim went to get some water; and while he was
away, Demane took his sister out of the bag, and put the bees in it,
after which they both concealed themselves.

When Zim came with the water, his wife and son and daughter came also
with firewood.

He said to his daughter: “There is something nice in the bag; go bring
it.”

She went, but the bees stung her hand, and she called out: “It is
biting.”

He sent his son, and afterwards his wife, but the result was the same.
Then he became angry, and drove them outside, and having put a block of
wood in the doorway, he opened the bag himself. The bees swarmed out
and stung his head, particularly his eyes, so that he could not see.

There was a little hole in the thatch, and through this he forced his
way. He jumped about, howling with pain. Then he ran and fell headlong
into a pond, where his head stuck fast in the mud, and he became a
block of wood like the stump of a tree. The bees made their home in the
stump, but no one could get their honey, because, when any one tried,
his hand stuck fast.

Demane and Demazana then took all Zim’s possessions, which were very
great, and they became wealthy people.



THE RUNAWAY CHILDREN; OR, THE WONDERFUL FEATHER.


Once in a time of famine a woman left her home and went to live in a
distant village, where she became a cannibal. She had one son, whose
name was Magoda. She ate all the people in that village, until only
herself and Magoda remained. Then she was compelled to hunt animals,
but she caught people still when she could. In hunting she learned to
be very swift of foot, and could run so fast that nothing she pursued
could escape from her.

Her brother, who remained at home when she left, had two daughters,
whom he did not treat very kindly. One day he sent them to the river
for water, which they were to carry in two pots. These pots were made
of clay, and were the nicest and most valuable in the village. One of
the girls fell down on a rock and broke the pot she was carrying. Then
she did not know what to do, because she was afraid to go back to her
father. She sat down and cried, but that did not help, the pot would
not be whole again.

Then she said to her sister: “Let us go away to another place, where
our father will not be able to find us.”

She was the younger and the cleverer of the two, and so she persuaded
her sister. They walked away in the opposite direction from their home,
and for two days had nothing but gum to eat. Then they saw a fire at a
distance, and went to it, where they saw a house. It was the house of
their aunt, but they did not know it. They were afraid to go in, but
Magoda came out and talked to them. When he heard who they were, he was
sorry for them, and told them their aunt was a cannibal, giving them
advice not to stay there. But just then they heard her coming, so they
went into Magoda’s house and hid themselves, for he lived in one house
and his mother in another.

The woman came and said: “I smell something nice; what is it, my son?”

Magoda said there was nothing.

She replied: “Surely I smell fat children.”

But as she did not go in, they remained concealed that night.

The next morning Nomagoda (so called because she was the mother of
Magoda) went out to hunt, but she did not go far, so the children could
not get away. They went into her house, where they saw a person with
only one arm, one side, and one leg.

The person said to them: “See, the cannibal has eaten the rest of me;
take care of yourselves.”

When it was nearly dark, Nomagoda came home again, bringing some
animals which she had killed. She smelt that children had been in the
house, so she went to her son’s house and looked in.

She said to Magoda: “Why do you not give me some? Do I not catch
animals for you?”

Then she saw the children, and was very glad. She took them to her
house, and told them to sleep. They lay down, but were too frightened
to close their eyes. They heard their aunt say, “Axe, be sharp; axe, be
sharp;” and to let her know that they were awake, they spoke of vermin
biting them.

After a while the cannibal went to sleep, when they crept out, first
putting two blocks of wood in their places, and ran away as fast as
they could. When Nomagoda awoke, she took the axe and went to kill
them, but the axe fell on the blocks of wood.

As soon as it was day, the cannibal pursued the children. They looked
behind, and saw clouds of dust which she made as she ran. There was a
tall tree just in front of them, so they hastened to climb up it, and
sat down among the branches. Nomagoda came to the tree and commenced to
cut it down; but when a chip fell out, a bird (Ntengu) sang—


   “Ntengu, ntengu,
    Chips, return to your places,
    Chips, return to your places,
    Chips, be fast.”


The chip then went back to its place and was fast again. This happened
three times; but Nomagoda, who was very angry, caught the bird and
swallowed it. When she put it in her mouth, one of the feathers dropped
to the ground. Then she began to chop at the tree again; but as soon as
a chip was loose the feather sang—


   “Ntengu, ntengu,
    Chips, return to your places,
    Chips, return to your places,
    Chips, be fast”


The chip then stuck fast again. The cannibal chopped till she was
tired, but the feather continued to keep the tree from receiving harm.
Then she tried to catch the feather, but it flew about too quickly for
her, until she sank down exhausted on the ground at the foot of the
tree.

The children, up in the branches, could see a long way off; and as they
strained their eyes, they observed three dogs as big as calves, and
they knew these dogs belonged to their father, who was seeking for
them. So they called them by name, and the dogs came running to the
tree and ate up the cannibal, who was too tired to make her escape.

Thus the children were delivered, and their father was so glad to get
them back again that he forgave them for breaking the pot and running
away.



STORY OF IRONSIDE AND HIS SISTER.


A long time ago a woman who went to cultivate her garden took her
little daughter with her, and before she began to hoe the ground she
laid the child down in the shade of a tree. About midday there came two
birds and flew away with the girl. They carried her across a great
river, and laid her gently down in a pumpkin field on a plain.

As the birds were carrying her away, she called to her mother, who took
no notice of her cries, because she could not imagine her child was
being carried away. In the afternoon the girl was missing, and her
mother searched for her without success. She made inquiries of the
neighbours, and some of them told her they had heard the child crying,
“I am going away with the birds.”

The plain on which the little girl was put down was near a town in
which lived a nation of cannibals who had one leg much longer than the
other. There she remained alone till the next day.

That night the chief of the cannibals dreamed that he saw a very pretty
girl in that place; so in the morning he sent a party of men to look
for her. When the girl saw them coming she was afraid, and hid herself
among the pumpkins. But the men had already noticed where she was, so
they easily found her, and took her home with them.

The chief was very much pleased with her appearance. He gave her to his
mother to take care of, and when she grew up he took her to be his
wife.

Afterwards she had two children, one very pretty, and with two legs
like her own; the other ugly, and like its father, with one leg longer
than the other. The cannibals saw the advantage of having two legs of
equal length, and they became jealous of the woman and her child. They
told the chief it would be dangerous to allow the child to grow up,
because then a nation stronger than themselves might arise. They
persuaded him to consent to her being put to death, and then they
rejoiced greatly, because she was very fat, and they intended to eat
her; but one of them, who had more compassion than the others, told the
woman what they were about to do.

After the little girl had been taken away by the birds, her mother had
a son, one of whose sides was flesh like other people’s, and the other
side was iron. His mother told him of his sister who was lost, and when
he became a man he determined to go in search of her.

In his journey he came to a great river full of water. He had an iron
rod in his hand, with which he struck the water, and at the same time
he called out with a loud voice: “River, I have no sister. Be empty.”

Then the river dried up, and he went safely across.

After this he came to the stream where the cannibals drew their water,
and concealed himself among the reeds which grew on its banks. While
there his sister came to get water, and he at once knew who she was.
She, of course, did not know him, but he told her he was her brother.
Then she said the cannibals would eat him if he went to their town
without an introduction. So they arranged that he should smear himself
with mud and go to the top of a high hill, and when he was coming down
she would tell the cannibals who he was.

Ironside went on the hill, and as soon as he came in sight of the town,
his sister said: “There is the servant of the wife of the chief of the
cannibals.” These words she repeated twice.

When Ironside reached the town, a mat was brought to him and spread in
front of his sister’s house; but after a time he was allowed to go
inside, still covered with mud.

The next day they all went to hunt, and Ironside killed more game than
the others, upon which they became envious of him. This was shortly
before the cannibals agreed to kill and eat the daughter of their
chief. When the one who had compassion made known what was about to be
done, Ironside was present and heard what was told. He said to his
sister that she must pluck the hair from her head and scatter it about
in different directions. This she did, after which Ironside and his
sister and her child left the town in haste.

The cannibals came, and when they could not find the child they called
her loudly by name. Then the tufts of hair all answered in her voice,
and the seekers became confused.

Ironside and his companions, having two legs, could walk much quicker
than the cannibals, and soon they were on the other side of the large
river. The child trembled, and was very much frightened; but Ironside
told her not to fear at all. After they had crossed, Ironside struck
the river with his iron rod, and said: “River, I have found my sister.
Be full.” Then the water rose very high, quite to the top of the banks.

A party of cannibals who were in pursuit came to the river after it was
full, and Ironside made a long rope, and threw the end over to them.
They caught hold of it, thinking that he would pull them across; but
when they were in the middle of the river he let go the rope, and they
were all drowned. Another party then came and asked where their
companions were. Ironside said they had gone to a ford further down;
but they knew that was not true, so they returned home. Afterwards they
discovered who it was that gave warning of their intentions, and they
killed and ate that one.

Ironside took his sister home to her mother, who received her with the
greatest joy, never having forgotten her during that long time.



STORY OF THE CANNIBAL’S WONDERFUL BIRD.


A number of girls once went away from their homes early in the morning
for the purpose of getting imbola (the red clay with which they colour
their bodies and clothes). Among them was the daughter of a chief, a
very pretty girl. After they had collected the imbola, they were about
to return home, when one of them proposed that they should bathe in a
large pool of water that was there. To this they all agreed, and so
they went into the water and played about in it for a long time. At
last they dressed themselves again, and set out for home; but when they
had gone some distance, the chief’s daughter noticed that she had
forgotten one of her ornaments, which she had taken off when they went
to bathe. So she asked her cousin to return with her to get it. The
cousin refused. Then she asked another girl, and another, but one and
all refused to go back. She was thus obliged to return to the water
alone, while the other girls went home.

On arriving at the pool, a big ugly cannibal with only one leg came up
to her, caught her, and put her in his bag. She was so frightened that
she lay quite still. The cannibal then took her round to the different
villages and made her sing for him. He called her his bird. When he
came to a village he asked for meat, and when it was given to him he
said: “Sing, my bird.” But he would never open the bag so that any one
could see what sort of a bird he had.

When the girls reached home, they told the chief that his daughter had
reached the age of ntonjane, and they selected one of themselves and
shut her up in a hut. The chief believed that story, and so he killed a
large ox and said the people must eat. That day they ate fat beef, and
were very merry. The boys took meat, and went away from the village to
eat it.

The cannibal, who did not know that the girl’s father was chief at this
place, came there just at this time. He said to the boys if they would
give him meat he would make his bird sing for them. So they gave him
meat, and he said: “Sing, my bird.” The girl’s brother was among those
boys, and he thought the bird sang like his sister, but he was afraid
to ask the cannibal to let him see. He advised the cannibal to go to
the village where the men were, and told him there was plenty of meat
that day.

The cannibal then went to the village and made his bird sing. The chief
wanted very much to see the bird, but the cannibal would not open the
bag. The chief offered him an ox for the bird, but the cannibal
declined the offer. Then the chief made a plan. He asked the cannibal
to go for some water, and said he would give him plenty of beef when he
returned. The cannibal said he would go if they would promise not to
open his bag while he was away. They all promised not to touch the bag.
They gave the cannibal a leaky pot to carry the water in, so that he
was gone a long time. As soon as he was out of sight the chief opened
the bag and took his daughter out. At first he could not believe it was
his daughter, for he thought she was observing ntonjane. But when he
knew how those other girls had deceived him he said they must all die,
and so they were killed. Then he put snakes and toads in the bag, and
tied it up again.

When the cannibal came back he complained of the leaky pot, but they
gave him plenty of meat to satisfy him, so he picked up his bag and
went away. He did not know what had happened while he was absent. When
he came near his own house he called to his wife: “Make ready to cook.”
He sent and called all the other cannibals to come to a feast, and they
came expecting to get something nice. He let them wait a little to get
very hungry. Then he opened his bag and thought to take the girl out,
but found only snakes and toads in it. The other cannibals were so
angry when they saw this, that they killed him and made their feast of
him.



THE STORY OF THE CANNIBAL MOTHER AND HER CHILDREN.


There was once a man and a woman who had two children, a son and a
daughter. These children lived with their grandfather. Their mother was
a cannibal, but not their father.

One day they said to their grandfather: “We have been long with you, we
should like very much to go and see our parents.”

Their grandfather said: “Ho! will you be able to come back? Don’t you
know your mother is a cannibal?”

After a time he consented. He said: “You must leave at such a time that
you may arrive there in the evening, so that your mother may not see
you, only your father.”

The boy’s name was Hinazinci. He said: “Let us go now, my sister.”

They started when the sun was set. When they arrived at their father’s
house, they listened outside to find out if their mother was there.
They heard the voice of their father only, so they called to him. He
came out, and when he saw them he was sorry, and said: “Why did you
come here, my dear children? Don’t you know your mother is a cannibal?”

Just then they heard a noise like thunder. It was the coming of their
mother. Their father took them inside and put them in a dark corner,
where he covered them with skins. Their mother came in with an animal
and the body of a man. She stood and said: “There’s something here.
What a nice smell it has!”

She said to her husband: “Sohinazinci, what have you to tell me about
this nice smell that is in my house? You must tell me whether my
children are here.”

Her husband answered: “What are you dreaming about? They are not here.”

She went to the corner where they were, and took the skins away. When
she saw them, she said: “My children, I am very sorry that you are
here, because I must eat people.”

She cooked for them and their father the animal she had brought home,
and the dead man for herself. After they had eaten, she went out.

Then their father said to them: “When we lie down to sleep, you must be
watchful. You will hear a dancing of people, a roaring of wild beasts,
and a barking of dogs in your mother’s stomach. You will know by that
she is sleeping, and you must then rise at once and get away.”

They lay down, but the man and the children only pretended to go to
sleep. They were listening for those sounds. After a while they heard a
dancing of people, a roaring of wild beasts, and a barking of dogs.
Then their father shook them, and said they must go while their mother
was sleeping. They bade their father farewell, and crept out quietly,
that their mother might not hear them.

At midnight the woman woke up, and when she found the children were
gone, she took her axe and went after them. They were already a long
way on their journey, when they saw her following them. They were so
tired that they could not run.

When she was near them, the boy said to the girl: “My sister, sing your
melodious song; perhaps when she hears it she will be sorry, and go
home without hurting us.”

The girl replied: “She will not listen to anything now, because she is
in want of meat.”

Hinazinci said: “Try, my sister; it may not be in vain.”

So she sang her song, and when the cannibal heard it, she ran backwards
to her own house. There she fell upon her husband, and wanted to cut
him with the axe. Her husband caught hold of her arm, and said: “Ho! if
you put me to death who will be your husband?”

Then she left him, and ran after the children again.

They were near their grandfather’s village, and were very weak when
their mother overtook them. The girl fell down, and the cannibal caught
her and swallowed her. She then ran after the boy. He fell just at the
entrance of his grandfather’s house, and she picked him up and
swallowed him also. She found only the old people and the children of
the village at home, all the others being at work in the gardens. She
ate all the people that were at home and also all the cattle that were
there.

Towards evening she left to go to her own home. There was a deep valley
in the way, and when she came to it she saw a very beautiful bird. As
she approached it, the bird got bigger and bigger, until at last when
she was very near it, it was as big as a house (i.e., a native hut).

Then the bird began to sing its song. The woman looked at it, and said
to herself: “I shall take this bird home to my husband.”

The bird continued its song, and sang:


   “I am a pretty bird of the valley,
    You come to make a disturbance at my place.”


The bird came slowly towards her, still singing its song. When they
met, the bird took the axe from the woman, and still sang the same
song.

The cannibal began to be afraid.

She said to the bird: “Give me my axe; I do not wish for your flesh
now.”

The bird tore one of her arms off.

She said: “I am going away now; give me what is mine.”

The bird would not listen to her, but continued its song.

She said again: “Give me my axe and let me go. My husband at home is
very hungry; I want to go and cook food for him.”

The bird sang more loudly than before, and tore one of her legs off.

She fell down and cried out: “My master, I am in a hurry to go home. I
do not want anything that is yours.”

She saw that she was in danger. She said to the bird again: “You don’t
know how to sing your song nicely; let me go, and I will sing it for
you.”

The bird opened its wings wide, and tore open her stomach. Many people
came forth, most of them alive, but some were dead. As they came forth
she caught them and swallowed them again. The two children were alive,
and they ran away. At last the woman died.

There was great rejoicing in that country. The children returned to
their grandfather, and the people came there and made them rulers of
the country, because it was through them the cannibal was brought to
death.

The girl was afterwards married to a son of the great chief, and
Hinazinci had for his wife the daughter of that great one.



STORY OF THE GIRL AND THE MBULU.


There was once a widow woman who had one son and two daughters. On a
certain day she went to her garden, taking with her one of the girls.
While she was away the boy quarrelled with his sister and killed her.

In the course of the day the woman sent the girl that was with her to
the hut, and when she came there a fly told her what had happened. She
did not believe it.

Then a mouse told her the same thing, but still she did not believe it
was true.

Afterwards the fly told her to look in a certain place, and there she
saw the head and the bones of her sister.

When the woman came home and found out what had happened, she killed
her son. Then she gave the girl a stick, and told her to go to her
uncle’s house, saying that when she got there she must strike the
ground with the stick, and all the clothes and other things that
belonged to her would then rise up out of the earth. The woman said she
was now all alone, and therefore intended to kill herself.

The girl was very sorry, but she did as her mother told her. When she
was a little way off, she looked back and saw smoke coming out of the
hut, from which she knew that her mother had burned herself and was no
longer a person under the sun.

After this she met an old woman, who called to her, but she took no
heed and walked on. Next she met a mbulu at a place close by a river.
The mbulu said, whoever wetted any part of their body in crossing the
river must go in and bathe. The girl was standing on the bank, and the
mbulu struck the water with its tail and splashed it in her face, so
that she had to go in and bathe. Then the mbulu took her clothes and
put them on.

When the girl came out of the water she asked for her clothes, but the
mbulu said: “I will give them when you are dry.”

So they went on together. After a while the girl asked again, and the
mbulu said: “I will give them when we get to the village.”

But when they arrived there the mbulu said: “You must tell the people
here that you are my servant, and that I am the daughter of a chief.”

The poor girl was so afraid that she promised to do so. They were well
received at the village, because the people believed that the mbulu was
a great person. They wondered at her voice, but she told them she had
been ill and her throat was not well yet.

After a time one of the men of that kraal married the mbulu, and the
real girl was sent to the gardens to drive the birds away from the
corn. While engaged in this occupation she used to sing about the mbulu
taking her clothes and passing itself off for a person, until the women
who worked in the gardens took notice of this song of hers.

Then they made a plan to find out if what the girl was singing was the
truth. They said: “The tail of a mbulu will want mice and fat,” so they
set snares to catch the mice. In the night the tail was pursuing mice,
and itself got fast in a snare. The mbulu then asked the man who was
married to her to go and get some medicine, as she was sick, and when
the man went she took off the snare.

After this they made another plan. They said: “The tail of a mbulu will
seek milk,” so they dug a hole in the ground, put milk in it, and
required every one in the village to jump over the hole. The mbulu was
unwilling at first, but they urged her. She tried to jump quickly, but
the tail could not pass the milk. When it went down the people saw that
this was a mbulu, so they killed it and buried it in that hole.

After this the same man who had married the mbulu took the girl to be
his wife. She had a child, and one day, when it was playing, a square
pumpkin came out of the ground where the mbulu was buried, and tried to
kill the infant. But the people chopped the pumpkin in pieces, and
burned it. They afterwards threw the ashes into a river, so that
nothing more could come of that mbulu.



THE STORY OF MBULUKAZI.


There was once a man who had two wives, one of whom had no children,
and for that reason she was not loved by her husband. Her name was
Numbakatali. The other wife had one daughter who was very black, and
several children besides, but they were all crows. The one who had no
offspring was very downcast on that account, and used to go about
weeping all day.

Once when she was working in her garden, and crying as usual, two doves
came and perched near her. One of them said to the other: “Dove, ask
the woman why she is crying.” So the dove questioned her.

She replied: “It is because I have no children, and my husband does not
love me. His other wife’s children are crows, which come and eat my
corn, and she laughs at me.”

The dove said: “Go home and get two earthen jars, and bring them here.”

Numbakatali went and got them. Then the doves scratched her knees till
the blood flowed, and put the blood in the jars. The woman gave the
doves some corn to eat, after which she took the jars home to her hut,
and set them carefully down in a corner. Every day the two doves came
to be fed, and always told the woman to look at what was in the jars.

At last, when she looked one day, she saw two children, one a boy, the
other a girl, and both very handsome. She was very much delighted at
the sight, but she did not tell any one.

When the children grew a little she made a snug place for them in the
hut, where they were to sit all day, because she did not wish them to
be seen. Always before she went to her work she charged them not to go
out, and as her husband never came to see her, no one knew of the
existence of these children except herself and a servant girl.

But one day, when they were big, she went out, and after she was away
some time, the boy said to his sister: “Come, let us help our mother by
bringing water from the river.”

So they went for water; but they had not reached the river when they
met a company of young men with a chief’s son, who was looking for a
pretty girl to be his wife. The young chief was called Broad Breast,
because his chest was very wide, and it was also made of a glittering
metal that shone in the sun. These men asked for water to drink. The
boy gave them all some water, but the young chief would only take it
from the girl. He was very much smitten with her beauty, and watched
her when she left, so as to find out where she lived.

As soon as the young chief saw the hut that the girl went to, he
returned home with his party and asked his father for cattle with which
to marry her. The chief, who was very rich, gave his son many fine
cattle, with which the young man went to the girl’s mother’s husband,
and said: “I want to marry your daughter.”

So the girl who was very black was told to come, but the young chief
said: “That is not the one I want; the one I saw was lighter in colour
and much prettier.”

The father replied: “I have no other children but crows.”

But Broad Breast persisted, so the man called his wives, both of whom
denied that there was such a girl. However, the servant girl went to
the man and privately told him the truth. In the evening he went to his
wife’s hut, and to his great joy saw the boy and his sister. He was so
delighted that he remained there that night, and after talking it over
with his wife, he agreed to let Broad Breast marry the girl.

In the morning a mat was spread in the yard, and the young chief was
asked to sit down. The two children and the servant girl who told their
father about them were also called, and they all sat down on the mat.

The young chief, as soon as he saw her, said: “This is the girl I
meant.”

He stayed part of the day, and then with his attendants went to his
father for more cattle, which, having obtained, he brought them to the
father of the girl.

The mother of the very black girl and the crows was very jealous when
she saw such a fine young chief coming with so many cattle. She wanted
her daughter to be the one that was to be married; so she dressed her
as finely as she could, but she had no such pretty clothes as the other
girl had. Her name was Mahlunguluza, for she was called after the
crows, who were the other children of her mother. The pretty girl’s
name was Mbulukazi, which name was given to her because her handsome
dress was made of the skin of a mbulu.

The mother of Mahlunguluza spoke to the young chief about her daughter,
and so he married both the girls. Their father gave to each an ox, with
which they went to their new home. Mbulukazi’s ox was a pretty young
one, and Mahlunguluza’s ox was an old and poor one. When they arrived,
Broad Breast gave to Mbulukazi a very nice new house to live in, but to
Mahlunguluza was given an old one quite in ruins.

Then the very black one saw she was not loved, and she became jealous,
so she made a plan to kill her sister. One day she told her she heard
their father was sick, and proposed that they should go to see him.
Mbulukazi consented, and as soon as they obtained leave from their
husband they left. Their road led them along the edge of a cliff, below
which was a deep pool of water.

Mahlunguluza lay down on the rock, and said: “Come, see what is here in
the water.”

Her sister lay down with her head over the edge of the rock, when
Mahlunguluza jumped up quickly and pushed her over. Mbulukazi sank in
the water and was drowned. Then the very black one returned home, and
when her husband asked where Mbulukazi was, she said that she was still
with their father.

The next day the ox of the drowned one came running to the village and
walked about lowing for a while, after which it tore down the old
ruined house of Mahlunguluza with its horns. Its actions attracted the
notice of the men, and they said: “Surely this ox means something, why
is it doing this?”

Then it went to the deep pool of water, the men following it; it smelt
all over the rock, and then jumped into the water and brought out the
body of Mbulukazi. The ox licked her till her life came back, and as
soon as she was strong once more, she told what had happened.

They all went home rejoicing greatly, and informed Broad Breast. When
the young chief heard the story he was angry with Mahlunguluza, and
said to her: “Go home to your father; I never wanted you at all; it was
your mother who brought you to me.”

So she had to go away in sorrow, and Mbulukazi remained the great wife
of the chief.



THE STORY OF LONG SNAKE.


Once upon a time a certain girl left her father’s place, and went to
the village of Long Snake. Having arrived at the village of Long Snake
she remained there, but the owner of the place was absent. The only
person present was the mother of the owner of the place.

Then in the evening the mother of Long Snake gave that girl some
millet, and told her to grind it. After it was ground she made bread.
When it was ready the mother of Long Snake said: “Carry this bread into
the house of Long Snake.”

A short time after that girl went into the house, the owner of the
place arrived. Then she gave him bread and fermented milk, and he ate.
When they had finished the food they went to sleep. Then early in the
morning Long Snake went away, because in the daytime he lived in the
open country.

The girl went to the house of the parents of Long Snake. The mother of
Long Snake clothed her with a very beautiful robe. After she was
dressed she called for an axe, and went to cut firewood. Having arrived
in the open fields she did not cut the firewood, but she threw away the
axe and ran to her father’s place.

When she arrived at her father’s place, her sister asked for where she
had got that beautiful robe. She told her, and her sister said: “I am
going to that village too.”

The girl said: “Just listen, and I will tell you the custom of that
village.”

But her sister said in reply: “I do not want you to tell me anything,
because you yourself were not warned before you went.”

Then she set off at once, and went on till she arrived in the evening
at the village of Long Snake. When she sat down the mother of Long
Snake gave her millet, telling her to grind it and make bread. When it
was ready she took it into the house of Long Snake. Then in the evening
the owner of the place arrived, and the girl gave him bread and
fermented milk. When they had finished eating they went to sleep, and
early in the morning Long Snake went away.

Then the girl went to the house of Long Snake’s parents. His mother
clothed that girl also in the same manner as she had dressed the elder
one. Then she borrowed an axe and went to cut fuel. In doing so she
made an excuse to run away.

On this day, however, the man went after his wives, and arrived at his
father-in-law’s place as the sun was setting.

They went out of the house that the bridegroom might sleep in it. While
he was eating, the people of the village piled up bundles of grass, and
the bridegroom was burned in the house. In this manner he died.



THE STORY OF KENKEBE.


There was once a great famine in a certain country, and the people were
obliged to eat wild plants to keep themselves alive. Their principal
food during this time was nongwes (Hypoxis, p. 385, “Harvey’s Gen. S.
A. Plants”), which they dug out of the ground.

There was living at that place a man called Kenkebe, and one day his
wife said to him, “My husband, go to my father and ask him to give us
some corn.”

The man said: “Yes, I will go.”

So he rose up early in the morning, and went on till he arrived at his
father-in-law’s village, where he was received with every mark of
kindness. A very large ox was killed for his entertainment. It was so
large that it was six days before it was all eaten. His father-in-law
asked of him the news.

He said: “There is no news to tell to friends. All the news is this,
that at my home there is not a grain to be eaten. Famine is over our
heads. Will you give us some corn, for we are dying?”

His father-in-law gave him seven bags (i.e. skins of animals dressed
entire) full of millet, and his wife’s sisters went with him to carry
them. When they came to a valley close by his home, he told his
sisters-in-law that they could now go back to their father.

They said: “How will you manage to carry all those bags alone?”

He replied: “I shall be able to carry them all now, because we are not
far from my home.”

So those girls went back to their father.

Then he carried the bags one by one, and hid them in a cave under a
great rock that was there. Afterwards he took some of the millet and
ground it. When it was ground very fine he made it into cakes just like
nongwes. Then he dug some real nongwes out of the ground, and went home
to his wife.

He said to her: “There is a great famine at your father’s also. I found
the people there eating themselves.”

He told his wife to make a fire. Then he pretended to cut a piece of
meat out of his thigh, and said: “So are they doing at your father’s
village. Now, my wife, let us do the same.”

His wife cut a piece from her leg and roasted it. The piece that
Kenkebe put on the fire was some that he had brought home with him.

Then Kenkebe s little boy said: “Why does my father’s meat smell nice
in roasting, and my mother’s meat does not smell nice?”

Kenkebe answered: “It is because it is taken from the leg of a man.”

After this he gave his wife some nongwes to roast. He took for himself
some of those he had made of corn.

The little boy said: “Why do my father’s nongwes smell nice in
roasting, and my mother’s do not smell nice?”

Kenkebe said: “It is because they were dug by a man.”

After eating, he went outside, but he had dropped one of his nongwes by
the fire. When he went out the boy found the nongwe. He broke it in two
and gave half to his mother.

He said: “There is a difference between our nongwes and those of
father’s.”

His mother said: “Yes, my child, this one is made of corn.”

The next morning, just at the first beginning of dawn, Kenkebe got up
and went away with a pot in his hand. The boy was awake, and saw his
father go out. So he called to his mother, and said: “Mother, mother,
wake, my father is going away with the pot in his hand.”

So she got up, and they followed after Kenkebe. They saw him go to the
cave where he took some corn out of one of the bags and began to grind
it. Then they went on top of the rock, and rolled a big stone over.

When Kenkebe saw the stone coming he ran away, but it followed close
behind him. He ran down the valley, the stone kept running too. He
jumped into a deep hole in the river, down went the stone too. He ran
up the hill, up went the stone also. He ran over the plain, but
whenever he turned to look, the stone was there just behind him. So it
continued all that day. At night he reached his own house, and then the
stone stopped. His wife had already come home, and had brought with her
one of the bags of corn.

Kenkebe came in crying.

His wife said to him: “Why do you cry as if you were a child?”

He said: “Because I am very tired and very hungry.”

She said: “Where are your clothes and your bag?”

He replied: “I was crossing a river, and I fell down. The stream
carried away my mantle, and my bag, and my kerries, and everything that
was mine.”

Then his wife gave him his mantle, which she had picked up when he was
running away, and she said to him: “You are foolish to do such things.
There is no food for you to-night.”

The next morning Kenkebe rose early and went out to hunt with his two
dogs. The name of the one was Tumtumse, and the name of the other was
Mbambozozele. He found an eland with a young calf, which he drove to
his place. He cut an ear off the calf and roasted it in the fire. It
was fat, and he liked it so much that he cut the other ear off and
cooked it also. Then he wished to kill the calf, but he said to
himself: “If I kill this calf I shall not be able to get milk from the
eland.”

So he called his two dogs, and said to the one: “Tumtumse, my dog, if I
kill this calf, will you imitate it and suck the eland for me?”

The dog said: “No, I will bark like a dog.”

Kenkebe said: “Get out of my sight and never come near me again, you
ugly, useless animal.”

He said to the other: “Mbambozozele, my dog, if I kill this calf, will
you imitate it and suck the eland for me?”

The dog said: “I will do so.”

Then he killed the calf and ate it. He took the skin and put it upon
Mbambozozele, so that the eland thought it was her calf that sucked
before Kenkebe milked her. But one day the dog was sucking too long,
and Kenkebe wanted him to leave off. He tried to drink just a few drops
more, when his master got angry and struck him with a stick. Thereupon
the dog began to howl, and the eland saw how she had been deceived. At
once she ran after Kenkebe and tried to stick him with her horns. He
ran one way and the eland ran after him, then he ran another way, and
still the eland chased him.

His wife came out and saw him running. She cried out to him: “Jump up
quickly on the big stone.” He did so, and the eland ran with such fury
against that stone that it broke its head and fell down dead.

They then cut the eland up and wanted to cook it, but there was no
fire. Kenkebe said to his son: “Go to the village of the cannibals that
is on that hill over the valley, and ask for some fire; but do not take
any meat with you, lest they should smell it.”

The boy went, but he hid a piece of meat and took it with him. When he
got to the first house he asked for fire, but they sent him to the
next. At the next they sent him farther, and so he had to go to the
house that was farthest away. An old woman lived there. The boy gave
her a little piece of meat, and said: “Do not cook it till I am far
away with the fire.”

But as soon as the boy was gone, she put it on the coals. The smell
came to the noses of the cannibals, and they ran to the place and
swallowed the old woman, and the meat, and the fire, and even the
ashes.

Then they ran after the boy. When he came near his own house, he cried
out: “Hide yourselves, you that are at home.”

His father said: “My son is saying we must gather wood that will make
coals.”

His mother said: “No, he is saying we must hide ourselves.”

The boy cried again: “Hide yourselves.”

Then his mother hid herself in a bush; an old woman that was there
covered herself with ashes, and Kenkebe climbed up into a tree, with
the breast of the eland in his hand. The boy slipped into a hole that
was by the side of the path.

The cannibals came to the place. First they ate the eland. Then one of
them said: “Search under the ashes.”

There they found the old woman, and they ate her. Then they said:
“Search in the tree.”

There they found Kenkebe. He cried very much, but they would not spare
him. They ate him and the breast of the eland. Then the wise one said:
“Look in the bush.”

They looked there and found the wife of Kenkebe. They said: “We will
eat her another time,” and so they took her home with them. They did
not look for the boy.

The woman made a plan to escape. She made beer for the cannibals, and
they all came to drink. They sat together in a big house, and drank
very much beer. Then she said: “Can I go out?”

They said: “You can go, but come back quickly.”

She said: “Shall I close the entrance?”

They said: “Close it.”

Then she took fire and put it on the house and all those cannibals were
burnt to death. So the woman escaped, and afterwards lived happily with
her son.



ANOTHER STORY OF KENKEBE.

At a certain time, Kenkebe went to get his wife at the place of her
parents. When he was on the way, he met a crow. He borrowed its eyes.
Then he arrived at his wife’s parents’ place with the eyes of the crow.

When he arrived, his wife said: “Where are your own eyes?”

He replied: “My eyes have been taken away by the crows.”

Then his wife said: “Let us go home.”

When they reached home, his wife said: “Take those eyes, you silly one,
to their owner, and bring back your own.”

Accordingly Kenkebe went for his eyes and got them back.

Then, as he was returning, he met an ant, and exchanged stomachs with
it. When he arrived at his house, his wife gave him food. After he had
finished eating, he went to milk a cow.

When he was gone out, his little boy went to the place where he had
been sitting. He said, “Mother, this food that is spilt here, whose is
it?”

His mother replied: “Perhaps it has been spilt by your father. You must
not eat it until your father comes.”

When Kenkebe came in, his wife said: “Where does this food come from?”

The man replied: “My stomach has been borrowed by an ant.”

His wife said: “You must go and take this stomach back to-morrow.”

He went to do so. When he arrived at the ant’s place, he demanded his
stomach. His stomach was given to him, and then he went home.



STORY OF THE WONDERFUL HORNS.


There was once a boy whose mother that bore him was dead, and he was
ill-treated by his other mothers. On this account he determined to go
away from his father’s place. One morning he went, riding on an ox
which was given to him by his father. As he was travelling, he came to
a herd of cattle with a bull.

His ox said: “I will fight and overcome that bull.”

The boy got off his ox’s back. The fight took place, and the bull was
defeated. The boy then mounted his ox again.

About midday, feeling hungry, he struck the right horn of his ox, and
food came out. After satisfying his hunger, he struck the left horn,
and the rest of the food went in again.

The boy saw another herd of dun-coloured cattle. His ox said: “I will
fight and die there. You must break off my horns and take them with
you. When you are hungry, speak to them, and they will supply you with
food.”

In the fight the ox was killed, as he had said. The boy took his horns,
and went on walking till he came to a village where he found the people
cooking a weed (called tyutu), having no other food to eat.

He entered one of the houses. He spoke to his horn, and food came out,
enough to satisfy the owner of the house and himself. After they had
eaten, they both fell asleep. The owner of the house got up and took
away the horns. He concealed them, and put two others in their place.

The boy started next morning with the horns, thinking they were the
right ones. When he felt hungry, he spoke to the horns, but nothing
came out. He therefore went back to the place where he had slept the
night before. As he drew near, he heard the owner of the place speaking
to the horns, but without getting anything out of them.

The boy took his horns from the thief, and went on his way. He came to
a house, and asked to be entertained. The owner refused, and sent him
away, because his clothes were in tatters, and his body soiled with
travel.

After that he came to a river and sat down on the bank. He spoke to his
horns, and a new mantle and handsome ornaments came out. He dressed
himself, and went on. He came to a house where there was a very
beautiful girl. He was received by the girl’s father, and stayed there.
His horns provided food and clothing for them all.

After a time he married the girl. He then returned home with his wife,
and was welcomed by his father. He spoke to his horns, and a fine house
came out, in which he lived with his wife.



THE STORY OF THE GLUTTON.


There was once a man who quarrelled with his wife, so that she left
him, and went home to her father’s place. When she got home she found
nobody, for all the people had been swallowed by a monster. She went
into the house that used to be her father’s, and noticed that there
were footprints of animals and spots of blood all over the floor. She
then got into the top of the hut and hid herself. She heard the monster
coming, saying:


   “O man, O man,
    I have eaten,
    And I am still living.”


She kept awake. Shortly the house was filled with all kinds of animals,
which made a fire, cooked their food, ate it up, and slept. Next
morning they awoke, and all went out to search for something to eat.

The woman had two children born while the animals were away. She came
down from her hiding-place, and took up a stone used for raising pots
above the fire (called isoko), and went again into her hiding-place.

The animals returned in the evening; and while their pots were on the
fire, she threw down the stone into one of them. The animals all rushed
out of the house. Outside they held a consultation, and their chief
decided that those living in holes should go to the holes, that those
living in forests should go to the forests, and that those living in
rivers should go to the rivers.

After this, the woman set a trap, and succeeded in catching a buffalo,
but she could not skin it. She saw a glutton (called an igongqongqo, a
fabulous monster, like a man, but capable of devouring enormous
quantities of food) coming, and asked him to help her. He consented.

He pulled out his knife and skinned the buffalo. She gathered some
wood, and kindled a fire for the purpose of roasting the liver. The
glutton roasted it. She went away and picked up an empty calabash, and
when she returned she found the glutton roasting the legs, having
already eaten the liver. She then said: “I am going for water.”

She got behind a bush, and blew the empty calabash. The glutton
wondered what this was, and called her. She continued blowing, until
the glutton was so frightened that he took his bag and put the
remainder of the meat into it, and ran away.

She followed him, still blowing, until he threw away the bag containing
the meat. She still followed, blowing. The glutton stumbled, and fell
into a thorny bush, where he was held fast. The woman then ceased
blowing, and heard him blubbering out:


   “Let me alone, lu bo bo,
    Let me alone, lu bo bo.”


She blew again, and he struggled and got free. He ran away with all his
might. She then took the bag home with her, made a fire, and cooked the
meat. When it was ready, she took it to her hiding-place, and lived on
it till her children were able to run about outside.

One day, these twins asked their mother to make bows and arrows for
them. Their mother advised them not to wander away from the house,
saying to them: “The glutton will swallow you.”

But at a certain time they left home, and went in the direction where
the monster lived. They found it asleep, and shot it with their arrows
in both eyes. The boys returned home and told their mother. Next day
they went to the place, and found the glutton dead.

The boys heard people talking inside the glutton. Having told their
mother, she took a knife and cut it open, when people came out, and
cattle, and dogs. The people asked: “Who killed the glutton?”

The mother of the twins told them, and they rewarded the boys with a
large number of cattle.



STORY OF THE GREAT CHIEF OF THE ANIMALS.


There was once a woman who had occasion to leave her home for a short
time, and who left her children in charge of a hare. The place where
they lived was close to a path, along which droves of wild animals were
accustomed to pass.

Soon after the woman left, the animals appeared, and the hare at sight
of them became frightened. So she ran away to a distance, and stood to
watch. Among the animals was one terrible monster, which called to the
hare, and demanded to know what children those were. The hare told
their names, upon which the animal swallowed them entire.

When the woman returned, the hare told her what had happened. Then the
woman gathered some dry wood, and sharpened two pieces of iron, which
she took with her and went along the path.

Now this was the chief of the animals; therefore, when she came on a
hill over against him, the woman began to call out that she was looking
for her children. The animal replied: “Come nearer, I cannot hear you.”

When she went, he swallowed her also. The woman found her children
alive, and also many other people, and oxen, and dogs. The children
were hungry, so the woman with her pieces of iron cut some pieces of
flesh from the animal’s ribs. She then made a fire and cooked the meat,
and the children ate.

The other people said: “We also are hungry, give us to eat.”

Then she cut and cooked for them also.

The animal felt uncomfortable under this treatment, and called his
councillors together for advice, but they could suggest no remedy. He
lay down and rolled in the mud, but that did not help him, and at last
he went and put his head in the kraal fence, and died.

His councillors were standing at a distance, afraid to approach him, so
they sent a monkey to see how he was. The monkey returned and said:
“Those whose home is on the mountains must hasten to the mountains;
those whose home is on the plains must hasten to the plains; as for me,
I go to the rocks.”

Then the animals all dispersed.

By this time the woman had succeeded in cutting a hole through the
chief’s side, and came forth, followed by her children.

Then an ox came out, and said: “Bo! bo! who helped me?”

Then a dog, who said: “Ho! ho! who helped me?”

Then a man, who said: “Zo! zo! who helped me?”

Afterwards all the people and cattle came out. They agreed that the
woman who helped them should be their chief.

When her children became men, they were out hunting one day, and saw a
monstrous cannibal, who was sticking fast in a mud hole. They killed
him, and then returned to tell the men of their tribe what they had
done. The men went and skinned the cannibal, when a great number of
people came out of him also. These joined their deliverers, and so that
people became a great nation.



STORY OF THE HARE.


Once upon a time the animals made a kraal and put some fat in it. They
agreed that one of their number should remain to be the keeper of the
gate. The first one that was appointed was the coney (imbila). He
agreed to take charge, and all the others went away. In a short time
the coney fell asleep, when the inkalimeva (a fabulous animal) went in
and ate all the fat. After doing this, he threw a little stone at the
coney.

The coney started up and cried out: “The fat belonging to all the
animals has been eaten by the inkalimeva.”

It repeated this cry several times, calling out very loudly. The
animals at a distance heard it, they ran to the kraal, and when they
saw that the fat was gone they killed the coney.

They put the fat in the kraal a second time, and appointed the muishond
(iqaqa) to keep the gate. The mouse-dog consented, and the animals went
away as before. After a little time the inkalimeva came to the kraal,
bringing some honey with it. It invited the keeper of the gate to eat
honey, and while the muishond was enjoying himself the inkalimeva went
in and stole all the fat. It threw a stone at the muishond, which made
him look up.

The muishond cried out: “The fat belonging to all the animals has been
eaten by the inkalimeva.”

As soon as the animals heard the cry, they ran to the kraal and killed
the muishond.

They put fat in the kraal a third time, and appointed the duiker
(impunzi) to be the keeper of the gate. The duiker agreed, and the
others went away. In a short time the inkalimeva made its appearance.
It proposed to the duiker that they should play at hide and seek. The
duiker agreed to this. Then the inkalimeva hid itself, and the duiker
looked for it till he was so tired that he lay down and went to sleep.
When the duiker was asleep, the inkalimeva ate up all the fat.

Then it threw a stone at the duiker, which caused him to jump up and
cry out: “The fat belonging to all the animals has been eaten by the
inkalimeva.”

The animals, when they heard the cry, ran to the kraal and killed the
duiker.

They put fat in the kraal the fourth time, and appointed the bluebuck
(iputi) to be the keeper of the gate. When the animals went away, the
inkalimeva came as before.

It said: “What are you doing by yourself?”

The bluebuck answered: “I am watching the fat belonging to all the
animals.”

The inkalimeva said: “I will be your companion. Come, let us sit down
and scratch each other’s heads.”

The bluebuck agreed to this. The inkalimeva sat down; it scratched the
head of the other till he went to sleep. Then it arose and ate all the
fat. When it had finished, it threw a stone at the bluebuck and awoke
him.

The bluebuck saw what had happened and cried out: “The fat belonging to
all the animals has been eaten by the inkalimeva.”

Then the animals ran up and killed the bluebuck also.

They put fat in the kraal the fifth time, and appointed the porcupine
(incanda) to be the keeper of the gate. The animals went away, and the
inkalimeva came as before.

It said to the porcupine: “Let us run a race against each other.”

It let the porcupine beat in this race.

Then it said: “I did not think you could run so fast, but let us try
again.” They ran again, and it allowed the porcupine to beat the second
time. They ran till the porcupine was so tired that he said: “Let us
rest now.”

They sat down to rest, and the porcupine went to sleep. Then the
inkalimeva rose up and ate all the fat. When it had finished eating, it
threw a stone at the porcupine, which caused him to jump up.

He called out with a loud voice: “The fat belonging to all the animals
has been eaten by the inkalimeva.”

Then the animals came running up, and put the porcupine to death.

They put fat in the kraal the sixth time, and selected the hare
(umvundla) to be the keeper of the gate. At first the hare would not
consent.

He said: “The coney is dead, and the muishond is dead, and the duiker
is dead, and the bluebuck is dead, and the porcupine is dead, and you
will kill me also.”

They promised him that they would not kill him, and after a good deal
of persuasion he at last agreed to keep the gate. When the animals were
gone he laid himself down, but he only pretended to be asleep.

In a short time the inkalimeva went in, and was just going to take the
fat when the hare cried out: “Let the fat alone.”

The inkalimeva said: “Please let me have this little bit only.”

The hare answered, mocking: “Please let me have this little bit only.”

After that they became companions. The hare proposed that they should
fasten each other’s tails, and the inkalimeva agreed. The inkalimeva
fastened the tail of the hare first.

The hare said: “Don’t tie my tail so tight.”

Then the hare fastened the tail of the inkalimeva.

The inkalimeva said: “Don’t tie my tail so tight;” but the hare made no
answer. After tying the tail of the inkalimeva very fast, the hare took
his club and killed it. The hare took the tail of the inkalimeva and
ate it, all except a little piece which he hid in the fence.

Then he called out: “The fat belonging to all the animals has been
eaten by the inkalimeva.”

The animals came running back, and when they saw that the inkalimeva
was dead they rejoiced greatly. They asked the hare for the tail, which
should be kept for the chief.

The hare replied: “The one I killed had no tail.”

They said: “How can an inkalimeva be without a tail?”

They began to search, and at length they found a piece of the tail in
the fence. They told the chief that the hare had eaten the tail.

He said: “Bring him to me.”

All the animals ran after the hare, but he fled, and they could not
catch him. The hare ran into a hole, at the mouth of which the animals
set a snare, and then went away. The hare remained in the hole for many
days, but at length he managed to get out without being caught.

He went to a place where he found a bushbuck (imbabala) building a hut.
There was a pot on the fire with meat in it.

He said to the bushbuck: “Can I take this little piece of meat?”

The bushbuck answered: “You must not do it.”

But he took the meat and ate it all. After that he whistled a
particular tune, and there fell a storm of hail which killed the
bushbuck. Then he took the skin of the bushbuck, and made for himself a
mantle.

After this the hare went into the forest to get himself some weapons to
fight with. While he was cutting a stick the monkeys threw leaves upon
him. He called to them to come down and beat him. They came down, but
he killed them all with his weapons.


    This story terminates so abruptly that I have little doubt about
    its being merely a fragment. There is a story very similar to it,
    in which a pool of water is guarded by different animals in turn,
    all of which are deceived by the jackal.



STORY OF LION AND LITTLE JACKAL.


Little Jackal one day went out hunting, when he met Lion. Lion proposed
that they should hunt together, on condition that if a small antelope
was killed it was to be Little Jackal’s, and if a large one was killed
it was to be Lion’s. Little Jackal agreed to this.

The first animal killed was a large eland. Lion was very glad, and said
to Little Jackal: “I will continue hunting while you go to my house and
call my children to carry the meat home.”

Little Jackal replied: “Yes, I agree to that.”

Lion went away to hunt. When he had gone, Little Jackal went to his own
house and called his own children to carry away the meat. He said:
“Lion takes me for a fool if he thinks I will call his children while
my own are dying with hunger.”

So Little Jackal’s children carried the meat to their home on the top
of a high rock. The only way to get to their house was by means of a
rope.

Lion caught nothing more, and after a time he went home and asked his
wife where the meat was. She told him there was no meat. He said: “Did
not Little Jackal bring a message to my children to carry meat?”

His wife replied: “No; he has not been here. We are still dying with
hunger.”

Lion then went to Little Jackal’s house, but he could not get up the
rock to it. So he sat down by the water and waited. After a time Little
Jackal came to get water. He was close to the water when he saw Lion.
He at once ran away, and Lion ran after him. He ran into a hole under a
tree, but Lion caught his tail before he got far in. He said to him:
“That is not my tail you have hold of; it is a root of the tree. If you
do not believe me, take a stone and strike it, and see if any blood
comes.”

Lion let go the tail, and went for a stone to prove what it was. While
he was gone for the stone, Little Jackal went far into the hole.

When Lion returned, he could not be found. Lion lay down by the hole
and waited. After a long time Little Jackal wanted to come out. He went
to the entrance and looked round, but he could not see Lion. To make
sure, he said: “Ho, I see you, my master, although you are in hiding.”

Lion did not move from the place where he lay concealed. Then Little
Jackal went out, and Lion pursued him, but he got away.

Lion watched for him, and one day, when Little Jackal was out hunting,
he came upon him in a place where he could not escape. Lion was just
about to spring upon him, when Little Jackal said softly: “Hush! do you
not see that bushbuck on the other side of the rock? I am glad you have
come to help me. Just remain here while I run round and drive him
towards you.”

Lion did so, and Little Jackal made his escape.

At another time there was a meeting of the animals, and Lion was the
chief at the meeting. Little Jackal wanted to go too, but there was a
law made that no one should be present unless he had horns. So Little
Jackal took wax out of a nest of bees, and made horns for himself with
it. He fastened the horns on his head, and went to the meeting. Lion
did not know him on account of the horns. But he sat near the fire and
went to sleep, when the horns melted.

Lion looked at him and saw who it was. He immediately tried to catch
him, but Little Jackal was quick, and sprang away. He ran under an
overhanging rock and sang out: “Help! help! this rock is falling upon
me!”

Lion went for a pole to prop up the rock that he might get at Little
Jackal. While he was away, Little Jackal escaped.

After that they became companions again, and went hunting another time.
They killed an ox. Lion said: “I will watch it while you carry the
pieces away.”

Lion gave him the breast, and said: “Take this to my wife.”

Little Jackal took it to his own wife. When he returned, Lion gave a
shin, and said: “Take this to your wife.”

Little Jackal took the shin to Lion’s house. Lion’s wife said: “I
cannot take this, because it should not come here.”

Little Jackal thereupon struck Lion’s wife in the face, and went back
to the place where the ox was killed. Lion gave him a large piece of
meat, and said: “Take this to my wife.”

Little Jackal took it to his own wife. This continued till the ox was
finished. Then they both went home. When Lion arrived at his house he
found there was weeping in his family. His wife said: “Is it you who
sent Little Jackal to beat me and my children, and is it you who sent
this shin? Did I ever eat a shin?”

When Lion heard that, he was very angry, and at once went to Little
Jackal’s house. When he reached the rock. Little Jackal looked down and
said: “Who are you, and what is your name, and whose son are you, and
where are you from, and where are you going to, and whom do you want,
and what do you want him for?”

Lion replied: “I have merely come to see you. I wish you would let the
rope down.”

Little Jackal let down a rope made of mouse skins, and when Lion
climbed a little way up, the rope broke, and he fell and was hurt. He
then went home.



PROVERBS AND FIGURATIVE EXPRESSIONS.


The language of a Kaffir is adorned with figurative expressions, some
of which are readily understood by an Englishman, but others, when
literally interpreted, are to us meaningless. Such expressions,
however, are found upon inquiry to refer to some circumstance in their
mode of living, or some event in their traditional history, which makes
the meaning very clear. A few of their commonest proverbs and
figurative expressions are here given:—

Isikuni sinyuka nomkwezeli.

A brand burns him who stirs it up.

This proverb is an exact equivalent to our English one, Let sleeping
dogs lie.

Njengo mdudo ka Mapassa.

Like the marriage feast of Mapassa.

This saying is used to denote anything unusually grand. The marriage
festivities of one of the ancients, Mapassa by name, are said to have
been carried on for a whole year.

Ishwa lomhluzi wamanqina.

Misfortune of soup made of shanks and feet.

Applied to any person who never does well, but is always getting into
scrapes. The kind of soup spoken of is very lightly esteemed by the
Kaffirs.

Akuko mpukane inqakulela enye.

One fly does not provide for another.

A saying of the industrious to the idle, meaning that each should work
for himself as the flies do.

Kude e-Bakuba, akuyiwanga mntu.

Bakuba is far away, no person ever reached it.

Bakuba is an ideal country. This proverb is used as a warning against
undue ambition, or as advice to be content with that which is within
reach. It is equivalent to our English saying, It is no use building
castles in the air.

Kuxeliwe e-Xukwane apo kumaqasho makulu.

They have slaughtered at Kukwane where much meat is obtainable.

According to tradition, there was once a very rich chief who lived at
Kukwane (near King William’s Town), and who was in the habit of
entertaining strangers in a more liberal manner than any who went
before or who came after him. This proverb is used to such as ask too
much from others, as if to say, It was only at Kukwane that such
expectations were realized.

Qabu Unoqolomba efile.

I rejoice that Kolomba’s mother is dead.

The mother of Kolomba was, according to tradition, a very disagreeable
person. This saying is used when anything that one dreads or dislikes
has passed away.

Izinto azimntaka Ngqika zonke.

It is not every one who is a son of Gaika.

Gaika was at the beginning of this century the most powerful chief west
of the Kei. This proverb signifies that all are not equally fortunate.

Uyakulila ngasonye uxele inkawu.

You will shed tears with one eye like a monkey.

A warning used to deter any one from being led into a snare of any
kind. It is said that when a monkey is caught in a trap he cries, but
that tears come out of one eye only.

Lukozo lomya.

It is the seed of the umya (a species of wild hemp).

This saying is applied to any thing or person considered very
beautiful. The seed referred to is like a small jet black bead.

Udhle incholo.

He has drunk the juice of the flower of the wild aloe.

Said of a dull, sleepy person. This juice when drunk has a stupefying
effect, and benumbs the limbs so as to make them powerless for a time.

Indonga ziwelene.

The walls have come into collision.

Said of any dispute between persons of consequence.

Uvutelwe pakati nje nge vatala.

He is ripe inside, like a water-melon.

Said of any one who has come to a resolution without yet expressing it.
From its appearance it cannot be said with certainty whether a
water-melon is ripe or not.

Isala kutyelwa siva ngolopu.

A person who will not take advice gets knowledge when trouble overtakes
him.

Uyakuva into embi eyaviwa ngu Hili wase Mambalwini.

You will find out what Hili of the Amambalu experienced.

Hili, or Tikoloshe, is, according to the belief of the Kaffirs, a
mischievous being who usually lives in the water, but who goes about as
a human dwarf playing tricks upon people. He milks the cows when no one
is watching them. He causes women to fall in love with him, for he is
of a very amorous disposition towards the female sex. The uncivilized
Kaffirs, even at the present day, do not doubt the existence of such a
being. It is said that a long time ago there was a man of the Amambalu
who had good reason to suspect that his wife had fallen in love with
Hili. He accordingly pretended to go upon a journey, but returned in
the middle of the night and fastened his dogs at the door of his hut.
He then went inside and kindled a fire, when, as he anticipated, he
found Hili there. The man called his neighbours, who came with sticks
and beat Hili till he was unable to move. They then tied him up in a
bundle, fastened him to the back of the woman, and sent her away to
wander wherever she liked.

This saying is applied as a warning to people to avoid doing wrong,
lest the punishment of Hili overtake them.

Ulahla imbo yako ngopoyiyana.

You have cast away your own for that which you are not sure of.

This proverb is equivalent to the English one, A bird in the hand is
worth two in the bush.

Yimbabala yolwantunge.

He is a buck of an endless forest.

A saying applied to a shiftless person, one who never continues long in
any occupation.

Uzipembela emoyeni.

You are lighting a fire in the wind.

Said to any one who favours strangers in preference to relatives, or to
their disadvantage.

Yintlolela yombini.

A spy for both.

Said of a talebearer.

Akuko ramncwa lingagqimiyo kowalo umxuma.

There is no beast that does not roar in its den.

This proverb means that a man recognises no superior in his own
establishment. It is the Kaffir equivalent for, Every cock crows on his
own dunghill.

Inja yomoya.

A dog of the wind.

A saying applied to any one who has no settled plan of living.

Ukaka kampetu.

The shield turned the wrong way.

This saying is applied to any one who goes over from one party to
another. It is a common expression for one who turns evidence against
accomplices in crime.

Ngumpa wezala.

It is a cob stripped of maize in an ashpit.

Said of a worthless character.

Isinama ndokunamatela.

I, the adhesive grass, will stick fast to you.

The isinama is a kind of grass that sticks to one’s clothing when it is
touched, and can hardly be brushed off afterwards. This proverb is used
as a warning to any one to avoid a bad habit or an unworthy companion
that cannot easily be got rid of.

Alitshonanga lingenandaba.

The sun never sets without fresh news.

Amaqotyazana angalaliyo emzini.

They are people of experience who do not sleep at a strange place.

This proverb is used in praise of one who is smart in going a message,
or who performs any duty at a distance quickly.

Wokolwa yeyokosa.

You will prefer roasted meat.

This saying is applied to any one who is boasting immoderately, as a
warning that if he does not take care he will get into trouble, when he
will be glad to take whatever comes to hand. He will prefer roast meat
because it is easily cooked, and he will have neither time nor means to
boil it. This saying is also used as a threat, as if one said, I will
punish you thoroughly.

Kuhla ngamqalamnye.

Throats are all alike in swallowing.

This proverb is used when one asks another for anything, and implies,
If you do not give to me now, I will not give to you when I have
anything that you would like a share of.

Omasiza mbulala.

The people who rescue and kill.

This saying is applied to Europeans. It first arose from the heavy
demands made by Lord Charles Somerset upon the Gaikas in return for
English protection, but the Kaffirs maintain that we have acted up to
the description ever since. It is sometimes put in this form, The
people who protect with one hand and kill with the other.

Kukuza kuka Nxele.

The coming of Nkele.

Nkele (the lefthanded), or Makana, one of the most remarkable men that
Kaffirland has produced, rose by his own merits from a private station
to be the leader of the Ndlambe clans in the second decade of this
century. It was he who united them against the English after Lord
Charles Somerset invaded their country with a view of compelling them
to recognise a chief whom they detested. He led in person the attack
upon Grahamstown, and only retreated after the flower of his forces was
swept away. To obtain peace for his people, he voluntarily surrendered
to the English troops, and was sent as a prisoner of state to Robben
Island. In attempting to make his escape from the island in a boat, he
was drowned. But the Kaffirs would not believe that Makana was dead,
for they deemed him immortal. All through the wars of 1835, 1846–7, and
1851–2, they looked for his reappearance to lead them to victory. Ten
years ago his personal ornaments were still in preservation at a
village near King William’s Town, but about that date the hope of his
return was generally abandoned. Injunctions which Makana laid upon his
countrymen are still implicitly obeyed. Before his time the corpses of
common people were not usually interred, but by his orders it has been
done ever since.

The saying implies anything long expected, but which never occurs. It
is now in general use, though it is only of a few years’ standing.

Ilizwe lifile.

The land is dead.

A saying which implies that war has commenced.

Ubukulu abubangwa.

One does not become great by claiming greatness.

This proverb is used to incite any one to the performance of noble
deeds. It means, a man’s actions, not his talk and boasting, are what
people judge of his greatness by.

Kuhlangene isanga nenkohla.

The wonderful and the impossible have come into collision.

A saying applied to any intricate question.

Yinkungu nelanga.

The mist and the sun are together.

A saying denoting a very great number.

Lunyawo lwemfene.

It is the foot of a baboon.

A saying denoting a treacherous person.

Sova singasemoyeni.

We shall hear, we are on the side towards which the wind blows.

The saying denotes, we shall soon know all that is going on.

Umke namangabangaba aselwandhle.

He has gone in pursuit of the (fabulous) birds of the sea.

A saying applied to one whose ambitious aspirations are not likely to
be realized.

Umona wasemlungwini ubandeza icitywa ungaliqabi.

They prevent us from getting red clay from the pit, and they do not use
it.

This saying is used of Europeans, to denote that they act as the dog in
the manger towards the Kaffirs. It has unfortunately become a very
common expression.

Usela ngendebe endala.

You drink out of the old cup.

The indebe is a drinking vessel made of rushes. The saying is used to a
wealthy man, and means, You use a vessel handed down to you from your
ancestors.

Ukasela eziko.

You are creeping on your knees to the fireplace.

This saying is used as a warning to any one who is following a course
that must lead to ruin. It is as if one said, You are like an infant
crawling towards the fire circle (in the middle of a Kaffir hut), who
is sure to get burnt.

Ukuhlinza impuku.

To skin a mouse.

A saying which implies, to do anything secretly. A mouse can be skinned
without any one seeing it, but an ox cannot.

Yeyele ngelomkono.

It has stuck fast by one of the front legs.

This saying is used when one has committed oneself to any matter of
importance. An animal cannot extricate itself easily when fast by one
of its front legs.

Ugqada mbekweni.

One who eats the remains of a meal without first obtaining permission.

This saying is used of an uncalled-for expression of opinion.

Ukaulela inkawu ziyakasela.

You disturb monkeys on their way to drink.

This saying is used to express uncalled-for interference.

Umafa evuka njengenyanga.

It dies and rises like the moon.

Said of any question that springs up again after it is supposed to be
settled.

Akuko nkanga idubula ingeti.

There is no wormwood that comes into flower and does not wither.

A proverb descriptive of the life of man.

Unyawo alunampumlo.

The foot has no nose.

This proverb is an exhortation to be hospitable. It is as if one said,
Give food to the traveller, because when you are on a journey your foot
will not be able to smell out and avoid a man whom you have turned from
your door, but to your shame it may carry you to his.

Uzicandele umgalagala.

You have exposed yourself.

This saying is applied as a warning not to give anything to an
importunate person, as he would very likely be encouraged thereby to
continue asking for more.

Inkala ixingetyeni.

The crab has stuck fast between the stones at the entrance of its hole.

Said of any one who is involved in difficulties of his own creation, or
of one who raises an argument and is beaten in it.

Ubopelele inja enkangeni.

He has fastened a dog to a shrub.

This saying is used to denote a very greedy person, one who is so
greedy as to fasten his dog to a shrub that the animal may not beg for
food while he is eating. The shrub denoted is the very common one that
is covered with yellow flowers at midsummer.

Yimbini yezolo yakwa Gxuluwe.

Guluwe’s two of yesterday.

This is a saying of any one who goes away promising to return, and does
not do so. It had its origin in an event which happened five
generations back. Guluwe was a hunter of great renown, who crossed the
Kei with Khakhabay, the great-grandfather of the late Sandile. No man
was ever so skilful and successful in the pursuit of game as he. But
when Khakhabay took possession of the Amatolas, which he purchased from
the Hottentot chieftainess Hoho, he found them infested by great
numbers of bushmen. One day Guluwe, who had two young men with him,
killed an eland, but while he was still shouting his cry of triumph:
“Tsi! ha! ha! ha! ha! the weapons of Khakhabay!” he was surprised by a
number of these inhuman abatwa. They said: “Look at the sun for the
last time, you shall kill no more of our game.” Guluwe offered them a
large quantity of dacha (a species of wild hemp, used for smoking) for
his ransom. One of the abatwa was unwilling to spare him, but all the
rest agreed. They kept him with them while he pretended to send the two
young men for the dacha, but privately he told them not to return. The
bushmen then commenced to eat the eland. They ate that day, and all
that night, never ceasing to watch Guluwe. The next morning they asked
him when the young men would be back with the dacha, and he replied
that he did not expect them before sunset. The abatwa, gorged with
meat, then lay down to sleep, all except the one who advised that
Guluwe should not be spared. That one watched a while longer, but at
length he too was overcome by drowsiness. Guluwe then with his assagai
put one after another to death, until, forgetting himself, he shouted
his cry: “Tsi! ha! ha! ha! ha! Izikali zika Rarabe!” This awakened the
bushman who had advised that he should be killed; he now sprang to his
feet and escaped, calling out as he ran with the speed of the wind: “I
said this Guluwe of the Khakhabays should be destroyed; you who are
dead have perished through not following my advice.”



NOTES.


STORY OF THE BIRD THAT MADE MILK.

(a) The word amasi, translated milk, means that kind of fermented milk
which is used by the Kaffirs. When taken from the cow, the milk is put
into a skin bag, where it ferments and acquires a sharp acid taste.
When poured out for use by the master of the household, who is the only
one permitted to touch the milk-sack, a portion is always left behind
to act as leaven. Amasi is very nutritious; it forms one of the
principal articles of food of the Kaffirs, and is relished by most
Europeans in Kaffirland. In warm weather, especially, it is a pleasant
and wholesome beverage.

(b) Among the Kaffirs the work of cultivating the ground fell entirely
upon the women in olden times. The introduction of the plough has
caused a change in this respect, but to the present day the planting
and weeding is performed by females.

(c) Ikùba, a pick or hoe. Before the advent of Europeans, the largest
implement that was made was this instrument for breaking up the ground.
It was of nearly the same shape as a European hoe; but in place of
having an eye, into which a handle could be fastened, it was made with
a top like a spike, which was driven into the large knob of a long and
heavy club. It was at best a clumsy tool.

(d) Kaffir law recognises the right of individuals to possess landed
property. The chief allots a piece of ground to a family, by whom it is
retained and held in possession as long as it is cultivated. It is
forfeited by abandonment for a long time without assigning sufficient
cause. It cannot be sold. Pasture land is held in common.

(e) Itunga, a basket used to milk the cows in. It is woven so nicely as
to be watertight. The Kaffirs are expert in making baskets and mats,
but never attempt to dye any of the materials of which they are
composed, or otherwise to ornament them. They use mats as we use
dishes, to eat from.

(f) The potter’s art is now being lost by the Kaffirs. The large jars
are being replaced by wooden casks purchased from Europeans, and iron
pots have already come into general use.

(g) The Kaffir house has only one opening, which is low and narrow, but
which serves for door, window, and chimney.

(h) The fireplace is a circle in the centre of the hut. It is made by
raising a ring on the hard and smooth ant-heap floor. Round it the
inmates sleep, while the back of the hut, or the side opposite the
entrance, is used as a store room. There the jars and other household
utensils would usually be placed.

(i) Intambo, a riem, or thong of untanned oxhide.

(j) Equivalent to saying that they journeyed for three days.

(k) There are no crocodiles in the rivers of the present Amaxosa
country, but the reptile and its habits are well known to the people by
hearsay. According to their traditions, the tribe migrated from the
north-east. It is not unlikely that the Xosa belief in a water-spirit
which has power to charm people and entice them into rivers to their
destruction, may have originated in the fact of their having come from
a country where these destructive animals were common, as the spirit
and the reptile have the same name. In this story it is seemingly a
crocodile that appears, but very shortly we learn that it is really a
man who has been bewitched and forced to assume that appearance.

(l) Boys “enter manhood,” or acquire the privileges of men, by a
ceremony similar to the ntonjane.

(m) Up to this point there is nothing to indicate that the girl knew he
was not in reality a crocodile, but here it is evident that she was
aware he was a man under the power of a charm, for she uses a proper
name when speaking of him, as is indicated by the prefix U.

(n) The inference from this is that his enemies had bewitched him and
made him assume the appearance of a crocodile, but that the young woman
on account of her good qualities and great love for him had power to
dispel the charm, and by licking his face had enabled him to resume his
proper form as a man.



THE STORY OF FIVE HEADS.

In this story some liberty is taken with the Kaffir marriage
ceremonies, a description of which will serve as a key to much that is
contained in several of these tales. The whole of the ceremonies are
included in the term umdudo, a word derived from the verb ukududa,
which means to dance by springing up and down, as ukuxentsa means to
dance by moving the upper part of the body. The dance at a marriage is
considered of more importance than any of the others, and is therefore
frequently practised until skill in its performance is attained.

The marriage of a young Kaffir woman is arranged by her father or
guardian, and she is not legally supposed to be consulted in the choice
of a husband. In point of fact, however, matches arising from mutual
love are not uncommon. In such cases, if any difficulties are raised by
the guardians on either side, the young people do not scruple to run
away together, after which their relatives usually come to an
arrangement. Yet instances are not wanting of girls being compelled
against their wishes to marry old men, who have already perhaps five or
six wives. Kaffir ideas of some kinds of morality are very low. The
custom is general for a married woman to have a lover who is not her
husband, and little or no disgrace attaches to her on this account. The
lover is legally subject to a fine of no great amount, and the husband
may give the woman a beating, but that finishes the penalty.

That which makes a Kaffir marriage binding in their estimation, is not
the performance of a ceremony, but the transfer of a certain number of
cattle, as agreed upon, from the husband or his friends to the father
or guardian of the woman. In practice the umdudo is often deferred to a
convenient season, yet the woman is considered not less a wife, and her
children not less legal, provided always that the transfer of cattle
has taken place according to agreement. This system of transfer of
cattle is of great advantage to a Kaffir female. It protects her from
gross ill-treatment by her husband, as violence gives a woman’s
relatives a right to claim her divorce without restoring the cattle. It
creates protectors for herself and her children in the persons of all
the individuals among whom the cattle are shared. And lastly, it gives
her the status of a married woman in the estimation of her people,
whereas, if no cattle are transferred, she is not regarded by them as
having the rank of a wife.

Marriages are absolutely prohibited between people of the same family
title. This peculiarity seems to indicate that the tribes and clans of
the present day are combinations of others that were dispersed before
their traditional history commenced. A man may marry a woman of the
same clan that he belongs to, provided she is not a blood relative; but
he may not marry a woman whose father’s family title is the same as his
own, even though no relationship can be traced between them, and the
one may belong to the Xosa and the other to the Pondo tribe. As an
instance, we will take a man who belongs to, say, the Dushane clan of
the Xosa tribe, and whose family title is the Amanywabe. Among the
Tembus, the Pondos, the Zulus, and many other tribes, are people with
this same family title. They cannot trace any relationship with each
other, but wherever they are found they have ceremonies peculiar to
themselves. Thus the customs observed at the birth of a child are
exactly the same in every part of the country among people of the same
family title, though they may never have heard of each other, while
neighbours of the same clan, but of different family titles, have these
customs altogether dissimilar. All the children take the family title
of the father, and can thus marry people of the same family title as
the mother, provided they are not closely related in blood.

Marriage proposals may come from the father or guardian of the young
woman, or they may first be made by the man himself or the relatives of
the man who wishes to take a wife. The father of a young man frequently
selects a bride for him, and intimates his wish by sending a messenger
to make proposals to the girl’s father or guardian. In this case the
messenger takes some cattle with him, when, if the advances are
favourably received, an assagai is sent back, after which the relatives
of the young people discuss and finally arrange the terms of the
marriage. If the proposal comes from the girl’s father, he sends an
assagai, which is accepted if the suit is agreeable, or returned if it
is not.

When the preliminary arrangements are concluded, a bridal procession is
formed at the young woman’s kraal, to escort her to her future home. It
consists of her relatives and all the young people of both sexes who
can get away. It leaves at such a time as to arrive at its destination
after dark, and endeavours to reach the place without attracting
notice. The bridal party takes with it a cow, given by the bride’s
father or guardian to confer fortune upon her, and hence called the
Inqakwe. This cow is afterwards well taken care of by the husband. The
party has also an ox provided by the same person, as his contribution
towards the marriage feast. On the following morning at daylight the ox
is killed, when a portion of the meat is taken by the bride’s party,
and the remainder is left for the people of the kraal. The bridegroom’s
friends then send messengers to invite the people of the neighbourhood
to the feast, and as soon as these arrive the dancing commences.

In the dance the men stand in lines three, four, or more rows in depth,
according to their number, and at a little distance behind the women
stand in the same order, that is, they are ranged as follows:—


                     ——————————————————————
                             LINES
                     ——————————————————————
                               OF
                     ——————————————————————
                              MEN.
                     ——————————————————————

                          OPEN SPACE.

                     ——————————————————————
                            LINES OF
                     ——————————————————————
                             WOMEN.
                     ——————————————————————


The men stand with their heads erect and their arms locked together.
They are nearly naked, but wear ornaments of brass around their waists.
The trappings of the war dance are altogether wanting. The women are,
however, in full dress, for their part consists only in singing. When
all are ready, a man who has been selected for the purpose commences to
sing, the others immediately join in, and at a certain note the whole
of the men rise together from the ground. The dance consists merely in
springing straight up and coming down with a quivering of the body; but
when the men warm to it, it gives them great satisfaction. The song is
very monotonous, the same note occurring at every rise from the ground.
This dancing, with intervals of rest and feasting, continues as long as
the bridegroom’s relatives supply oxen for slaughter. A day suffices
for a poor man, but a rich man’s marriage festivities may last a week
or upwards.

On the closing day the bridegroom and his friends march from one hut,
while the bride and her party march from another, so as to meet in
front of the entrance to the cattle kraal. The bride carries an assagai
in her hand, which she throws so as to stick in the ground inside the
kraal in an upright position. This is the last of the ceremonies, and
the guests immediately begin to disperse, each man taking home the
milk-sack which he had brought with him. In olden times ox-races
usually took place on the closing day; but this custom is now falling
into neglect.



THE STORY OF TANGALIMLIBO.

This is a favourite story, and is therefore very widely known.
Sometimes it happens that native girls are employed as nurses by
Europeans, and that little children are taught by them to sing, or
rather chant the song of the cock, so that this story may even be like
“an old acquaintance with a cheerful face” to many of our own race who
have grown up on the frontier.

The original of the first song is:—


    Uyalila, uyalila, umta ka Sihamba Ngenyanga.
    Wenziwe ngabomu Sihamba Ngenyanga,
    Ngabantu abantloni. Sihamba Ngenyanga.
    Bamtuma amanzi emini. Sihamba Ngenyanga.
    Waba kuka ngetunga, laza latshona. Sihamba Ngenyanga.
    Waba kuka ngomcepe, waza watshona. Sihamba Ngenyanga.
    Waba kuka ngexakato, laza latshona. Sihamba Ngenyanga.


That of the second is:—


    Ndiyi nkuku nje ndingebulawe. Kukulu ku-u-u.
    Ndize kubika u-Tangalimlibo. Kukulu ku-u-u.
    U-Tangalimlibo ufile. Kukulu ku-u-u.
    Ukelele umntu ntloni amanzi. Kukulu ku-u-u.
    Ibe kutunywa inkomo, yakonya. Kukulu ku-u-u.
    Yaba kutunywa inja, yakonkota. Kukulu ku-u-u.


Among the Kaffirs a childless woman finds little or no favour. In many
cases she would be treated by her husband in exactly the manner
described in this tale, so that by becoming a mother she might say from
the bottom of her heart, with Elizabeth of old, that “her reproach was
taken away from among men.” Sometimes she is returned by her husband to
her parents, a proceeding commonly adopted when she has a marriageable
sister who can be given to him in exchange. The husband is required,
however, before repudiating his wife, to go through the customary
ceremonies, which are described in the following case tried before me
when acting as a border magistrate in 1881:—A, a Kaffir, sued B,
another Kaffir, to recover the value of a heifer lent to him two years
before under these circumstances. B’s wife, who was distantly related
to A, had been married more than a year without bearing a child. B
thereupon applied to him for a heifer, the hair of the tail of which
was needed by the doctor of the clan to make a charm to put round the
woman’s neck. He had lent him one for the purpose, and now wanted
payment for it. The defence was that A, being the woman’s nearest
relative who had cattle, was bound to furnish a heifer for the purpose.
The hair of the tail was needed, the doctor had made a charm of it and
hung it round the woman’s neck, and she had thereafter given birth to a
son. The heifer could not be returned after being so used. In this
case, if the plaintiff had been so nearly related to defendant’s wife
as to have participated in the benefit of the cattle given by her
husband for her, he could not have justified his claim under Kaffir
law; but as he was very distantly connected, he got judgment. The
feeling entertained by the Kaffirs about the court in this instance was
that B had acted very ungratefully towards A, who had not even been
present at the woman’s marriage feast, but who had cheerfully acted in
conformity with the custom which requires that a charm must be made out
of the hair of the tail of a heifer belonging to a relative of a
childless wife, in order to cause her to bear children.

It will be observed that the woman speaks of those whose names are
unmentionable. According to Kaffir custom no woman may pronounce the
names of any of her husband’s male relatives in the ascending line. She
is bound to show them the greatest respect, and implicitly to obey
their commands. She may not sit in the house where her father-in-law is
seated, she may not even pronounce any word in which the principal
syllable of his name occurs. Thus, a woman who sang the song of
Tangalimlibo for me used the word angoca instead of amanzi for water,
because this last contained the syllable nzi, which she would not on
any account pronounce. She had therefore manufactured another word, the
meaning of which had to be judged of by the context, as standing alone
it is meaningless.

The beer-drinking company on the mats under a tree, the escort of the
bride to her husband, and the wedding feast are true to the life.

The idea of the Kaffir with regard to drowning is also shown very
distinctly in this tale. He believes that a spirit pulls the person
under water, and that this spirit is willing sometimes to accept an ox
as a ransom for the human victim. How this belief works practically may
be illustrated by facts which have come under my own cognizance.

Some time in 1875, a party of Kaffir girls went to bathe in a little
stream not far from the place where I was then living. There was a deep
hole in the stream, into which one of them got, and she was drowned.
The others ran away home as fast as they could, and there told a story
how their companion had been lured away from their side by the spirit
calling her. She was with them, they said, in a shallow part, when
suddenly she stood upright and said, “It is calling.” She then walked
straight into the deep place, and would not allow any of them to touch
her. One of them heard her saying, “Go and tell my father and my mother
that it took me.” Upon this, the father collected his cattle as quickly
as possible, and set off for the stream. The animals were driven into
the water while the man stood on the bank imploring the spirit to take
the choicest of them and restore his daughter. The failure to get the
exchange effected is still attributed by the relatives of the drowned
girl to the absence of one skilful to work with medicines.

On another occasion, a Kaffir was trying to cross one of the fords of a
river when it was in flood. He was carried away by the current, but
succeeded in getting safely to land some quarter of a mile or so
further down. Eight or ten lusty fellows saw him carried off his feet,
but not one made the slightest effort to help him. On the contrary,
they all rushed away frantically, shouting out to the herd boys on the
hill sides to drive down the cattle. As might be supposed, the escape
of the man from being drowned was then attributed to his being in
possession of a powerful charm.

Besides these spirits, according to the belief of the Kaffirs, there
are people living under the water, pretty much as those do who are in
the upper air. They have houses and furniture, and even cattle, all of
their domestic animals being, however, of a dark colour. They are wiser
than other people, and from them the most skilful witchfinders are
supposed to obtain a portion of the knowledge of their art. This is not
a fancy of children, but the implicit belief of grown-up men and women
at the present day. A knowledge of this is of great service to those
who have to do with Kaffirs. As an instance, a woman came to me in
July, 1881, to beg assistance. A child had died in her village, and the
witchfinder had pointed her out as the person who had caused its death.
Her husband was absent, and the result of her being “smelt out” was
that no one would enter her hut, share food with her, or so much as
speak to her. If she was in a path every one fled out of her way, and
even her own children avoided her. Being in the colony she could not be
otherwise punished, but such treatment as this would of itself, in
course of time, have made her insane. She denied most emphatically
having been concerned in the death of the child, though she did not
doubt that some one had caused it by means of witchcraft. The
witchfinder was sent for, and, as the matter was considered an
important one, a larger number of Kaffirs than usual appeared at the
investigation. On putting the ordinary tests to the witchfinder he
failed to meet them, and when he was compelled, reluctantly, to admit
that he had never held converse with the people under the water, it was
easy to convince the bystanders that he was only an impostor.



STORY OF THE GIRL WHO DISREGARDED THE CUSTOM OF NTONJANE.

A large proportion of Kaffir tales have a similar termination with many
English ones; the heroine gets married to a prince. These show that a
desire for worldly rank is as great in the one people as in the other.
Most Kaffir tales are destitute of moral teaching from our point of
view. What recommendation, for instance, has the girl in this story to
the favour of the young chief?

The custom which the chief’s daughter disregarded is the following:—

When a Kaffir girl arrives at the age of puberty, messengers are sent
by her father to all the neighbouring villages to invite the young
women to attend the “Ntonjane.” The girl in the meantime is kept
secluded in the house of an aunt, or other female relative, and her
father does not see her. Soon parties are seen coming from all sides,
singing as they march. The first party that arrives halts in front of
the cattle kraal, where it is joined by those that come after. When the
girls are all assembled, the father chooses an ox to be slaughtered.
The meat is cooked, and men and women come from all directions to the
feast. The men then instruct the women to dress the girls for the
dance, and when this is done they are ranged in rows in front of the
cattle kraal. They are almost naked having on only a girdle round the
waist, and an apron, called cacawe, made for the occasion out of the
leaves of a certain plant. In their hands they hold assagais, using
them as walking sticks.

When all is ready, four of the girls step out of the front row and
dance, the rest singing; and when these are tired four others step out,
and so on, until all the girls present have danced. The spectators then
applaud the best dancer, or if they do not at once unanimously fix upon
the same person, the girls dance until all present agree.

The girls then give room to the men and women, who form themselves in
lines in the same manner, and dance until it is decided which of them
surpass the others. The dancing is continued until sunset, when the men
and women return home, leaving the party of girls (called the “jaka”)
who remain overnight.

Next day dancing is resumed in the same order, the guests usually
arriving very early in the morning.

If the girl’s father is a rich man three oxen are slaughtered, and the
ntonjane is kept up for twelve days. On the thirteenth day the young
woman comes out of the house where she has all the time been living
apart from her family. If the girl is a chief’s daughter the ntonjane
is kept up for twenty-four days. All the councillors send oxen to be
slaughtered, that there may be plenty for the guests to eat.

The following ceremony takes place on the occasion of a chief’s
daughter coming out of the house in which she was concealed during the
twenty-four days:—

A son of her father’s chief councillor puts on his head the two wings
of a blue crane (the indwe), regarded by the Kaffirs as an emblem of
bravery only to be worn by veterans in time of war. He goes into the
house where she is, and when he comes out she follows him. They march
towards the kraal where the dancing took place, the girl’s mother, the
jaka, or party of young women, the girl’s father, and his councillors,
forming a procession. More cattle are slaughtered for the “indwe,” and
then dancing is renewed, after which the girl drinks milk for the first
time since the day when she was concealed in the house. Large skins
containing milk are sent from different kraals to the place where the
ntonjane is held. Some milk is put into a small vessel made of rushes,
a little of it is poured on the fireplace, the aunt, or other female
relative, in whose charge the girl was, takes the first mouthful, then
she gives the milk to the girl, who, after having drunk, is taken to
her mother’s house. The people then disperse, and the ntonjane is over.

This ceremony is frequently attended with gross licentiousness. The
girls of the jaka are allowed by immemorial custom to select
sweethearts, and this liberty often leads to depravity.



THE STORY OF SIMBUKUMBUKWANA.

Charms and medicines for the cure of diseases are classed together by
the Kaffirs. Some of the women as well as of the men have really a
wonderful knowledge of the properties of herbs and roots. They are
acquainted with various vegetable-poisons and with their antidotes, and
not unfrequently make use of them.

A case recently came before me for investigation, in which a Kaffir
woman was suspected of having administered poison to another person. In
her hut a great variety of roots and dried herbs was found. These were
carefully separated, and then persons skilled in such matters were
brought to give evidence as to their properties. Anything like
collusion was impossible, yet each one without hesitation stated what
each medicine was to be used for, and all agreed.

One plant was for curing stomach-ache, another acted as an emetic, a
third cured the sting of a venomous insect, and so on. But among them
was a plant to be chewed when crossing a stream, to prevent the river
spirit from biting a person. Another was a root to be used to gain the
favour of a judge during a trial. The method of using this last was as
follows:—

A portion of it was to be placed upon some coals, over which the man
was to sit, covering himself and the fire with his mantle so as to be
thoroughly smoked. During the trial another portion was to be kept in
the mouth.

Not the slightest distinction was made by the witnesses between these
different kinds of “medicines.”

The Kaffir is a perfect slave to charms, and hardly ever undertakes any
matter of importance without using them.



THE STORY OF SIKULUME.

The game called Iceya is mentioned in this story as being played in the
rock that became a hut. The games with which Kaffir boys are accustomed
to amuse themselves are, as a rule such as require a large amount of
exertion of legs, arms and lungs. In the European towns, and at Mission
stations, they have generally adopted the English game of cricket, but
at their own kraals they still practise the sports of their ancestors.

At a very early age they commence trials of skill against each other in
throwing knobbed sticks and imitation assagais. They may often be seen
enjoying this exercise in little groups, those of the same age keeping
together, for there is no greater tyrant in the world than the big
Kaffir boy over his younger fellows. Commencing with an ant-heap at a
distance of ten or fifteen yards, for a target, they gradually become
so perfect that they can hit an object a foot square at double and even
treble that distance. The knobbed stick and the imitation assagai are
thrown in different ways, the object of the first being to inflict a
heavy blow upon the mark aimed at, while that of the last is to pierce
it. This exercise strengthens the muscles of the arms, and gives
expansion to the chest. The result is that when the boys are grown up
and become men, they are able to use their weapons without any further
training. When practising, they keep up a continual noise, and if an
unusually successful hit is made the thrower shouts the common Kaffir
cry of exultation, Tsi! ha! ha! ha! ha! Izikali zika Rarabe! (The
weapons of Khàkhàbay).

Kaffir boys above the age of nine or ten years are fond of shamfighting
with sticks. They stand in couples, each with a foot advanced to meet
that of his antagonist, and with a cudgel elevated in the right hand.
Each fixes his eye upon the eye of his opponent, and seeks to ward off
blows as well as to inflict them. In these contests pretty hard strokes
are sometimes given and received with the utmost good humour.

A game of which they are very fond is an imitation hunt. In this, one
of them represents a wild animal of some kind, a second acts as a
hunter, and the others take the part of dogs in pursuit. A space is
marked off, within which the one chased is allowed to take breath, when
he is said to be in the bush. He tries to imitate as closely as
possible the animal he is representing. Thus if he is an antelope he
simply runs, but if he is a lion he stands and fights.

The calves of the kraal are under the care of the boys, and a good deal
of time is passed in training them to run and to obey signals made by
whistling. The boys mount them when they are eighteen months or two
years old, and race about upon their backs. When the boys are engaged
in any sport, one of the number is selected by lot to tend the calves.
As many blades of grass as there are boys are taken, and a knot is made
on the end of one of them. The biggest boy holds the blades between the
fingers and thumb of his closed hand, and whoever draws the blade with
the knot has to act as herdsman.

They have also a simple game called hide and look for.

If they chance to be disinclined for active exercise, they amuse
themselves by moulding clay into little images of cattle, or by making
puzzles with strings. Some of them are skilful in forming knots with
thongs and pieces of wood, which it taxes the ingenuity of the others
to undo. The cleverest of them sometimes practise tricks of deception
with grains of maize. They are so sharp that although one is sure that
he actually sees the grain taken into the right hand, that hand when
opened will be found empty and the maize will be contained in the left,
or perhaps it will be exhibited somewhere else.

The above comprise the common out-door sports of boys up to the age of
fourteen or fifteen years. At that time of life they usually begin to
practise the different dances which they will be required to take part
in when they become men. These dances differ one from another almost as
much as those practised by Europeans.

The commonest indoor game of the Kaffirs is the one called Iceya. This
can be played by two persons or any number exceeding two. The players
sit in a circle, and each has a little piece of wood, a grain of corn,
or something of the kind. It must be so small that it can easily be
concealed in a folded hand, and no player must have more than one. If
there are many players they form themselves into sides or parties, but
when they are few in number one plays against the rest. This one
conceals the toy in either of his hands, and throwing both arms out
against an opponent he announces himself either as an Inhlangano (one
who meets), or an Ipambo (one who evades). His opponent throws his arms
out in the same manner, so that his right hand shall be opposite the
first player’s left, and his left opposite the first player’s right.
The clenched hands are then opened, and if the toys are found to meet,
the first player wins if he has called himself an inhlangano, or loses
if an ipambo. If the toys do not meet, the case is reversed. When there
are many players, one after another is beaten until two only are left.
This part of the game is called the Umnyadala (the winding up). Those
two then play against each other, and the one who is beaten is said to
be left with the umnyadala, and is laughed at. The winner is greeted as
the wearer of the tiger skin mantle. In playing, the arms are thrown
out very quickly, and the words are rapidly uttered, so that a stranger
might fancy there was neither order nor rule observed. Young men and
boys often spend whole nights playing the Iceya, which has the same
hold upon them as dice upon some Europeans.

Next to the Iceya, the most popular indoor game with Kaffir children is
the Imfumba. One of the players takes a grain of maize, or any other
small substance, in his hands, and pretends to place it in the hands of
the others, who are seated in a circle around him. He may really give
it to one of them, or he may keep it himself. One is then selected to
guess in whose possession it is. [2]

The last of the Kaffir indoor games is called Cumbelele. Three or four
children stand with their closed hands on top of each other, so as to
form a column. They sing “Cumbelele, cumbelele, pangalala,” and at the
last la they draw their hands back sharply, each one pinching with his
thumb nail the hand above.

Toys, as playthings, are few in number. Bows and arrows are sometimes
seen, but generally boys prefer an imitation assagai.

The nodiwu is a piece of wood about six or eight inches long, an inch
and a half or two inches wide, and an eighth or a quarter of an inch
thick in the middle. Towards the edges it is bevelled off, so that the
surface is convex, or consists of two inclined planes. At one end it
has a thong attached to it by which it is whirled rapidly round. The
other end of the thong is usually fastened to a small round piece of
wood used as a handle. The nodiwu, when whirled round gives forth a
noise that can be heard at a considerable distance. Besides the use
which it is put to by the lads, when a little child is crying inside a
hut its mother or nurse will sometimes get a boy to make a noise with a
nodiwu outside, and then induce the child to be still by pretending
that a monster is coming to devour it. There is a kind of superstition
connected with the nodiwu, that playing with it invites a gale of wind.
Men will, on this account, often prevent boys from using it when they
desire calm weather for any purpose. This superstition is identical
with that which prevents many sailors from whistling at sea.



THE STORY OF HLAKANYANA.

I have greatly reduced this story in bulk by leaving out endless
repetitions of exactly the same trick, but performed upon different
individuals or animals. In all other respects it is complete. The word
Hlakanyana means the little deceiver.



THE STORY OF DEMANE AND DEMAZANA.

Among the natives of South Africa relationship is viewed differently
from what it is by Europeans. I have more than once heard Kaffirs
accused of falsehood because they asserted one person to be their
father or mother at one time and a different person at another time.
Yet they were telling the truth according to their ideas. A common
complaint concerning native servant girls is that they claim every
other person they meet as a brother or a sister. Now, from their point
of view, what we should term cousins are really brothers and sisters.
It is not poverty of language, for they have words to express shades of
relationship where we have none, but a difference of ideas, that causes
them to use the same word for father and paternal uncle, for brother
and cousin, etc. Bawo is the word used in addressing father, father’s
brother, or father’s half-brother. Little children say Tata. But there
are three different words for father, according as a person is speaking
of his own father or uncle, of the father or uncle of the person he is
speaking to, or of the father or uncle of the person he is speaking of.
Speaking of my father, bawo is the word used: of your father, uyihlo;
of his father, uyise. Malume is the brother of any one called mother.
Ma is the word used in addressing mother, any wife of father, or the
sister of any of these. The one we should term mother can only be
distinguished from the others, when speaking of her, by describing her
as uma wam kanye—i.e., my real mother; or uma ondizalayo—i.e., the
mother who bore me. Speaking of my mother, ma is the word used: of your
mother, unyoko; of his or her mother, unina. A paternal aunt is
addressed as dadebobawo—i.e., sister of my father. Mnakwetu is the word
used by females in addressing a brother, half-brother, or male cousin.
Males, when addressing any of these relations older than themselves,
use the word mkuluwa; and when addressing one younger than themselves
say mninawe. Dade is used in addressing a sister, a half-sister, or a
female cousin. Females, when speaking to any of these relations younger
than themselves, usually say msakwetu. Mtakama is an endearing form of
expression, meaning child of my mother. Bawomkulu is the address of a
grandfather. Makulu is grandmother. Mtshana is the son of a sister.



THE RUNAWAY CHILDREN.

There are three or four versions of this story, but all agree in the
main points. In one, it is the grandmother of the children who is the
cannibal, in another, it is their mother, and in a third it is the
husband of their aunt. One version makes Magoda escape with the
children, and introduces a great deal of obscenity. The parts referring
to the bird and the manner of the children’s delivery are the same in
all. So also is the episode of the broken pot, but the conversation
between the two girls differs in some respects.

When a Kaffir woman is married, her husband’s parents give her a new
name, by which she is known to his family ever after. Upon the birth of
her first child, whether son or daughter, she is frequently called by
every one else after the name given to the child, “the mother of
so-and-so.”

The ntengu is rather larger than a swallow, and is of a bright
bluish-black colour. It may often be seen on the backs of cattle,
seeking for insects on which it feeds.



THE GIRL AND THE MBULU.

The mbulu is a fabulous creature, firmly believed in by little folks.
It can assume the human form, but cannot part with its tail. One of its
peculiarities is that it never speaks the truth when it is possible to
tell a falsehood.



THE STORY OF LONG SNAKE.

In this story the girls are represented as taking fermented milk to the
man. This is not in accordance with ordinary Kaffir usage, which
prohibits females from serving out milk. But Long Snake, though a man,
has been bewitched and obliged to assume the appearance of a serpent,
retaining however the faculties of a human being.

Kaffir women grind, or rather bruise, millet by putting it on a flat
stone, before which the worker kneels, and crushing it with a small
round stone held in the hands. When several are working near each other
of an evening, they usually lighten their labours by a rude chant. The
bruised substance is mixed with water, and formed into small loaves of
very insipid bread.



THE STORY OF KENKEBE.

In the above story Kenkebe is represented as the personification of
selfish greed. In this character his name has passed into a common
proverb—


    Sibayeni sonke, Kenkebe.
    We are all bridegrooms, Kenkebe.


This saying is used to any one who does not readily share food with
others. It means, we are all entitled to a portion, you greedy one. A
Kaffir, when eating, commonly shares his food with any others who may
be present at the time.



STORY OF LION AND LITTLE JACKAL.

This story is very likely of Hottentot origin. It is generally told by
the Kaffirs, but I have observed that it is a special favourite in
places only where there is a very strong tinge of Hottentot blood.

It is capable of indefinite extension by the narrator, but the tricks
of Little Jackal are always very silly ones. The above are among the
best of them.



FOOTNOTES


[1] Words without meaning, but used to express contempt, being merely a
repetition of the sound ngci.

[2] A Kaffir who went with the mission party from Lovedale to Lake
Nyassa, and remained there several years, informs me that he found the
Imfumba the commonest game of the children in that part of Africa. When
he had learned the language of the people there, he was surprised to
hear many of the common Kaffir folklore stories told nearly as he had
heard them related by Gaika women when he was a boy.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Kaffir Folk-Lore : A selection from the traditional tales current among the people living on the eastern border of the Cape Colony with copious explanatory notes" ***


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