Lake Ngami/Chapter 35
CHAPTER XXXV.
The people who dwell on the shores of the Lake are, as before said, called Batoana,[1] under the rule of Lecholètébè. They are a small tribe of that large family of "blacks" known as Bechuanas, who, as a whole, are probably the most widely distributed and the most powerful of all the dark-colored nations in Southern Africa. The Batoana have not been long dwellers in the Lake regions; they came as conquerors under Lecholètébè's father. Having dispossessed the aborigines, they reduced them to a state of slavery, giving them a name corresponding to their condition, viz., Bakoba or Makoba, that is, "serfs." These people, however, style themselves Bayeye, or "Men;" and by that appellation I shall hereafter call them.
In giving a general description of the manners and customs, religious rites, superstitions, &c., of the Bechuanas—the parent stock, as shown, of the Batoanas—I shall also have described those of the latter tribe; for, though they may differ in some respects, they agree in the main.
"The government of the people is at once both monarchical and patriarchal, and comparatively mild in its character. Each tribe has its chief or king, who commonly resides in the largest town, and is held sacred from his hereditary right to that office. A tribe generally includes a number of towns or villages, each having its distinct head, under whom there are a number of subordinate chiefs. These constitute the aristocracy of the nation, and all acknowledge the supremacy of the principal one. His power, though very great, and in some instances despotic, is, nevertheless, controlled by the senior chiefs, who, in their pichos or pitshos (their Parliament or public meetings), use the greatest plainness of speech in exposing what they consider culpable or lax in his government. An able speaker will sometimes turn the scale even against the king.***These assemblies keep up a tolerable equilibrium of power between the chiefs and their king; but they are only convened when it is necessary to adjust differences between tribes—when a predatory expedition is to be undertaken—or when the removal of a tribe is 
THE BECHUANA PICHO.
contemplated, though occasionally matters of less moment are introduced."[2]
The language used by the natives on public occasions, and more especially by the chiefs, is often powerful, eloquent, shrewd, and fluent, and would do honor to the best educated European. Take the following speech as an example, which contains the address of the famous Basuto king, Mosheshe, to his people, when congratulating them on the happy event of having received three worthy missionaries among them:
"Rejoice, you Makare and Mokatchani! you rulers of cities, rejoice! We have all reason to rejoice on account of the news we have heard. There are a great many sayings among men. Among them some are true and some are false; but the false have remained with us and multiplied; therefore we ought to pick up carefully the truths we hear, lest they should be lost in the rubbish of lies. We are told that we have all been created by one Being, and that we all spring from one man. Sin entered man's heart when he ate the forbidden fruit, and we have got sin from him. These men say that they have sinned; and what is sin in them is sin in us, because we come from one stock, and their hearts and ours are one thing. Ye Makare have heard these words, and you say they are lies. If these words do not conquer, the fault will lie with you. You say you will not believe what you do not understand. Look at an egg! If a man break it, there comes only a watery and yellow substance out of it; but if it be placed under the wing of a fowl, a living thing comes from it. Who can understand this? Who ever knew how the heat of the hen produced the chicken in the egg? This is incomprehensible to us, yet we do not deny the fact. Let us do like the hen. Let us place these truths in our hearts as the hen does the eggs under her wings; let us sit upon them, and take the same pains, and something new will come of them."
The language of the Bechuanas (the plural of Mochuana, a single individual) is called Sichuana, an adjective implying any thing belonging to the nation. It is exceedingly soft and mellifluous, owing to there being few syllables that end with a consonant. The only exceptions are "nouns in the ablative case, plural verbs, verbs definite, and the interrogatives why, how, and what, all of which end with the ringing n."
The first acquaintance of Europeans with the Bechuanas dates from an early period of the history of the Cape Colony. There is reason to believe that this nation once extended as far as the Orange River, but at the present day none of the tribes are found beyond the 28th parallel of south latitude.
The Bechuanas (as already mentioned in the history of the Damaras) believe that they originally sprang from a cave, said to exist in the Bakone country, where the footmarks of the first man may still be seen in the rock.
If we are to credit the testimony of some missionaries, the Bechuanas have no notion of a Superior Being. It is a strong argument in favor of this hypothesis that no word in their language properly denotes God. Speaking of these people, Mr. Moffat says: "I have often wished to find something by which I could lay hold on the minds of the natives; an 'altar to the unknown God,' the faith of their ancestors, the immortality of the soul, or any religious association; but nothing of this kind ever floated in their minds. 'They looked on the sun with the eyes of an ox.' To tell the greatest of them that there was a Creator, the Governor of the heavens and earth—of the fall of man, or the redemption of the world—the resurrection of the dead, and immortality beyond the grave, was to tell them what appeared to be more fabulous, extravagant, and ludicrous than their own vain stories about lions, hyænas, and jackals. To tell them that these (referring, of course, to the different elements of our creed) were articles of our faith would extort an interjection of superlative surprise, as if they were too preposterous for the most foolish to believe."
"'What is the difference?' said a native one day to the writer just quoted, pointing to his dog, 'between me and that animal? You say I am immortal, and why not my dog or my ox? They die; and do you see their souls? What is the difference between man and beast? None, except that man is the greater rogue of the two!'
"They could not see that there was any thing in our customs more agreeable to flesh and blood than in their own, but would, at the same time, admit that we were a wiser and a superior race of beings to themselves. For this superiority, some of their wise heads would try to account; but this they could only do on the ground of our own statement, that God made man.
"A wily fellow, who was the oracle of the village in which he dwelt, once remarked, after hearing me enlarge on the subject of creation, 'If you verily believe that one Being created all men, then, according to reason, you must also believe that, in making white people, he had improved on his work. He tried his hand on Bushmen first, and he did not like them, because they were so ugly, and their language like that of frogs. He then tried his hand on the Hottentots; but these did not please him either. He then exercised his power and skill, and made the Bechuanas, which was a great improvement; and at last he made the white people. Therefore,' exulting with an air of triumph at the discovery, 'the white people are so much wiser than we are in making walking houses (wagons), teaching the oxen to draw them over hill and dale, and instructing them also to plow the gardens, instead of making their wives do it, like the Bechuanas.'"
Dealers in the black art are numerous among the Bechuanas, who place the most implicit confidence in the sayings and prescriptions of the wizards. This applies more especially to those persons who devote themselves to the study of "rain-making."
The rain-maker possesses an influence over the minds of the people superior even to that of their king, who is likewise compelled to yield to the dictates of these "arch-officials." They are, in general, men of natural talent and ingenuity. Indeed, it is probable that, in the full consciousness of their superiority, they are emboldened to lay the public mind prostrate before their mysteries. Being, moreover, usually foreigners, they take good care to magnify prodigiously their feats abroad. Each tribe has one rain-maker, and sometimes more. The wizards are also doctors; and, at times, they assume the office of sextons by superintending the disposal of the dead, it being generally believed that the ceremonies practiced by these impostors have some influence over the watery treasures floating in the skies. It not unfrequently happens that the rain-maker prohibits the usual form of interment, and perhaps orders the dead to be dragged to a distance to be devoured by beasts of prey.
Mr. Moffat, in his "Missionary Labors and Scenes in Southern Africa," has given at some length a very striking account of one of these rain-makers, which amply illustrates the immense influence exercised by them over the ignorant and superstitious mind, as also the craft and ingenuity of the men themselves, in order to effect their purpose. It is in substance as follows:
Having for a number of years experienced severe droughts, the Bechuanas at Kuruman held a council as to the best measures for removing the evil. After some debate, a resolution was passed to send for a rain-maker of great renown, then staying among the Bahurutsi, two hundred miles N.E. of the station. Accordingly, commissioners were dispatched, with strict injunctions not to return without the man; but it was with some misgivings as to the success of their mission that the men started. However, by large promises, they succeeded beyond their most sanguine expectations.
During the absence of the embassadors the heavens had been as brass, and scarcely a passing cloud obscured the sky, which blazed with the dazzling rays of a vertical sun. But, strange to relate, the very day that the approach of the rain-maker was announced, the clouds began to gather thickly, the lightning darted, and the thunder rolled in awful grandeur, accompanied by a few drops of rain. The deluded multitude were wild with delight; they rent the sky with their acclamations of joy, and the earth rang with their exulting and maddening shouts. Previously to entering the town, the rain-maker sent a peremptory order to all the inhabitants to wash their feet. Scarcely was the message delivered before every soul, young and old, noble and ignoble, flew to the adjoining river to obey the command of the man who they imagined was now collecting in the heavens all his stores of rain.
The impostor proclaimed aloud that this year the women must cultivate gardens on the hills and not in the valleys, for the latter would be deluged. The natives, in their enthusiasm, saw already their corn-fields floating in the breeze, and their flocks and herds return lowing homeward by noonday from the abundance of pasture. He told them how, in his wrath, he had desolated the cities of the enemies of his people by stretching forth his hand and commanding the clouds to burst upon them; how he had arrested the progress of a powerful army by causing a flood to descend, which formed a mighty river, and stayed their course. These, and many other pretended displays of his power, were received as sober truths, and the chief and the nobles gazed on him with silent amazement. The report of his fame spread like wildfire, and the rulers of the neighboring tribes came to pay him homage.
In order to carry on the fraud, he would, when clouds appeared, command the women neither to plant nor sow, lest the seeds should be washed away. He would also require them to go to the fields, and gather certain roots and herbs, with which he might light what appeared to the natives mysterious fires. Elate with hope, they would go in crowds to the hills and valleys, collect herbs, return to the town with songs, and lay their gatherings at the magician's feet. With these he would sometimes proceed to certain hills, and raise smoke; gladly would he have called up the wind also, if he could have done so, well knowing that the latter is frequently the precursor of rain. He would select the time of new and full moon for his purpose, aware that at those seasons there was frequently a change in the atmosphere. But the rain-maker found the clouds in these parts rather harder to manage than those of the Bahurutsi country, whence he came.
One day, as he was sound asleep, a shower fell, on which one of the principal men entered his house to congratulate him on the happy event; but, to his utter amazement, he found the magician totally insensible to what was transpiring. "Hela ka rare! (halloo, by my father!) I thought you were making rain," said the intruder. Arising from his slumber, and seeing his wife sitting on the floor, shaking a milk-sack in order to obtain a little butter to anoint her hair, the wily rain-maker adroitly replied, Do you not see my wife churning rain as fast as she can?" This ready answer gave entire satisfaction; and it presently spread through the length and breadth of the town that the rain-maker had churned the shower out of a milk-sack.
The moisture, however, caused by this shower soon dried up, and for many a long week afterward not a cloud appeared. The women had cultivated extensive fields, but the seed was lying in the soil as it had been thrown from the hand; the cattle were dying from want of pasture, and hundreds of emaciated men were seen going to the fields in quest of unwholesome roots and reptiles, while others were perishing with hunger.
All these circumstances irritated the rain-maker very much, and he complained that secret rogues were disobeying his proclamations. When urged to make repeated trials, he would reply, "You only give me sheep and goats to kill, therefore I can only make goat-rain; give me fat slaughter oxen, and I shall let you see ox-rain."
One night a small cloud passed over, and a single flash of lightning, from which a heavy peal of thunder burst, struck a tree in the town. Next day the rain-maker and a number of people assembled to perform the usual ceremony on such an event. The stricken tree was ascended, and roots and ropes of grass were bound round different parts of the trunk. When these bandages were made, the conjuror deposited some of his nostrums, and got quantities of water handed up, which he poured with great solemnity on the wounded tree, while the assembled multitude shouted "Pula! pula!" The tree was now hewn down, dragged out of the town, and burned to ashes. Soon after, the rain-maker got large bowls of water, with which was mingled an infusion of bulbs. All the men of the town were then made to pass before him, when he sprinkled each person with a zebra's tail dipped in water.
Finding that this did not produce the desired effect, the impostor had recourse to another stratagem. He well knew that baboons were not very easily caught among rocky glens and shelving precipices, and, therefore, in order to gain time, he informed the men that, to make rain, he must have a baboon; moreover, that not a hair on his body was to be wanting; in short, the animal should be free from blemish. After a long and severe pursuit, and with bodies much lacerated, a band of chosen runners succeeded in capturing a young baboon, which they brought back triumphantly and exultingly. On seeing the animal, the rogue put on a countenance exhibiting the most intense sorrow, exclaiming, "My heart is rent in pieces! I am dumb with grief!" Pointing, at the same time, to the ear of the baboon, that was slightly scratched, and the tail, which had lost some hair, he added, "Did I not tell you I could not bring rain if there was one hair wanting?"
He had often said that, if they could procure him the heart of a lion, he would show them he could make rain so abundant that a man might think himself well off to be under shelter, as when it fell it might sweep whole towns away. He had discovered that the clouds required strong medicines, and that a lion's heart would do the business. To obtain this, the rain-maker well knew, was no joke. One day it was announced that a lion had attacked one of the cattle outposts not far from the town, and a party set off for the twofold purpose of getting a key to the clouds and disposing of a dangerous enemy. The orders were imperative, whatever the consequences might be. Fortunately, the lion was shot dead by a man armed with a gun. Greatly elated by their success, they forthwith returned with their prize, singing the conqueror's song in full chorus. The rain-maker at once set about preparing his medicines, kindled his fires, and, standing on the top of a hill, he stretched forth his hands, beckoning to the clouds to draw near, occasionally shaking his spear, and threatening them with his ire should they disobey his commands. The populace believed all this, and wondered the rain would not fall.
Having discovered that a corpse which had been put into the ground some weeks before had not received enough water at its burial, and knowing the aversion of the Bechuanas to a dead body, he ordered the corpse to be taken up, washed, and re-interred. Contrary to his expectation, and horrible as the ceremony must have been, it was performed. Still the heavens remained inexorable.
Having exhausted his skill and ingenuity, the impostor began to be sorely puzzled to find something on which to lay the blame. Like all of his profession, he was a subtle fellow, in the habit of studying human nature, affable, acute, and exhibiting a dignity of mien, with an ample share of self-complacency, which he could not hide. Hitherto, he had studiously avoided giving the least offense to the missionaries, who he found were men of peace, who would not quarrel. He frequently condescended to visit them, and in the course of conversation would often give a feeble assent to their opinion as to the sources of that element over which he pretended to have sovereign control. However, finding all his wiles unavailing to produce the desired result, and notwithstanding the many proofs of kindness he had received from the missionaries, he began to hint that the reverend gentlemen were the cause of the obstinacy of the clouds! One day it was discovered that the rain had been prevented by Mr. Moffat bringing a bag of salt with him from a journey that he had undertaken to Griqua-town. But finding, on examination, that the reported salt was only white clay or chalk, the natives could not help laughing at their own credulity.
From insinuations he proceeded to open accusations. After having kept himself secluded for a fortnight, he one day appeared in the public fold and proclaimed that he had at last discovered the cause of the drought. After keeping the audience in suspense for a short time, he suddenly broke forth, "Do you not see," he asked, "when clouds cover us, that Hamilton and Moffat looked at them? Their white faces scare them away, and you can not expect rain so long as they are in the country." This was a home stroke. The people became impatient, and poured forth their curses against the poor missionaries as the cause of all their sorrows. The bell, which was rung for public worship, they said, frightened the vapors; the prayers even came in for a share of the blame. "Don't you," said the chief one day rather fiercely to Mr. Moffat, "bow down in your houses, and pray and talk to something bad in the ground?"
But to shorten a long story: after exposing the missionaries to much risk and danger by his insinuations and accusations, the tables were turned in their favor. The rain-maker was now suspected; his gross impositions were unveiled, and he was about to pay the penalty of death—the well-merited reward for his scandalous conduct—when Mr. Moffat generously interfered, and, through his presence of mind and humanity, succeeded in saving the life of one who had so often threatened his own, and who would not have scrupled to take it, could he thereby have served his purpose. Death, however, soon overtook him, for he was eventually murdered among the Bauangketsi nation.
Mr. Moffat concludes his remarks on the career of this notable rain-maker by the following observation:
"It is a remarkable fact that a rain-maker never dies a natural death. I have known some, and heard of many, who had, by one means or other, fallen a prey to the fury of their disappointed employers; but, notwithstanding this, there was no want of successors. There is not one tribe whose people have not imbrued their hands in the blood of these impostors, whom they first adore, then curse, and lastly destroy."
Polygamy exists to an almost unlimited extent. A man may have as many wives as he chooses, provided he can pay for such privilege the usual fees, which vary according to the wealth of the husband.
Like the Damaras, the Bechuanas practice circumcision. From an early age upward, even to manhood, the males are circumcised. Children, however, born of parents previously to their having been operated upon, can not inherit regal power. The ceremony being performed, the youth is anointed, and at once assumes the character, air, and dress of a man. He is also considered fit to carry arms.
The females have also their "religious" festival about the same age as the boys, and, for a certain period, are under the tuition of matrons, who indoctrinate them in all the duties of wives—passive obedience being especially inculcated. As a last ordeal, they are made to carry a piece of heated iron, in order to show that their hands are fit for labor. They are then lubricated with grease; the lower part of their hair is shaven off, and the remainder profusely bedaubed with a paste of butter and sebilo (dark, shining ochre). They now adopt the usual female dress. "Raised thus from comparative infancy to what they consider womanhood, they view themselves with as much complacency as if they were enrobed in the attire of a daughter of an Eastern potentate. They have reached nearly to a climax in their life, for they expect soon to be married; to be a mother they consider the chief end of a woman's existence."
The Bechuanas generally bury their dead. The ceremony of interment, &c., varies in different localities, and is influenced by the rank of the deceased; but the following is a fair specimen of the way in which these obsequies are managed.
On the approaching dissolution of a man, a skin or net is thrown over the body, which is held in a sitting posture, with the knees doubled up under the chin, until life is extinct. A grave is then dug—very frequently in the cattle-fold—six feet in depth, and about three in width, the interior being rubbed over with a certain large bulb. The body, having the head covered, is then conveyed through a hole made for the purpose in the house and the surrounding fence, and deposited in the grave in a sitting position, care being taken to put the face of the corpse against the north. "Portions of an ant-hill are placed about the feet, when the net which held the body is gradually withdrawn. As the grave is filled up, the earth is handed in with bowls, while two men stand in the hole to tread it down round the body, great care being taken to pick out every thing like a root or pebble. When the earth reaches the height of the mouth, a small twig or branch of an acacia is thrown in, and on the top of the head a few roots of grass are placed. The grave being nearly filled, another root of grass is fixed immediately over the head, part of which stands above ground. When this portion of the ceremony is over, the men and women stoop, and with their hands scrape on to the little mound the loose soil lying about. A large bowl of water, with an infusion of bulbs, is now brought, when the men and women wash their hands and the upper part of their feet, shouting 'Pùla! pùla!' (Rain! rain!) An old woman, probably a relative, will then bring the weapons of the deceased (bow, arrows, war-axe, and spears); also grain and garden-seeds of various kinds; and even the bone of an old pack-ox, with other things. They finally address the grave, saying, 'These are all your articles.' The things are then taken away, and bowls of water are poured on the grave, when all retire, the women wailing 'Yo! yo! yo!' with some doleful dirge, sorrowing without hope."
"The ancients were of opinion that the face was always the index of the mind. Modern physiognomists have gone a step farther, pretending that a fine form, perfect in all its parts, can not contain a crooked or an imperfect mind." Judging the mind of a Bechuana by such a rule, it would not be pronounced deficient in talent. Nor is it. But, though the Bechuanas are a very superior race of men, they frequently conceal cunning and duplicity under an open and dignified exterior. Any act, no matter how disgraceful, if attended with success, will make them perfectly happy. "The Bechuana character is frank and sociable, which, however, does not appear to rise from benevolence of disposition, so much as from a degree of etiquette, and habits arising from relationship and docility." Like most barbarians, their political wisdom consists in duplicity and petty cunning, and their ordinary wars are merely predatory incursions upon weaker neighbors for the purpose of carrying off cattle with as little exposure as possible of their own lives.
They are exceedingly vindictive and revengeful; but if the injured party be propitiated with gifts, and the enemy acknowledge the error of his doings, apparent cordiality and unanimity generally succeed to the most inveterate hatred.
From the king to the slave, theft is a prevailing vice with the Bechuanas, and, from what I have seen of them, I am confident that the wealthiest and the most exalted among them would not hesitate to steal the shirt off one's back, could he effect it without being compromised. Their pilfering habits know no bounds, and they carry on the game with much dexterity. When grouped about our camp-fires I have known them to abstract the tools with which we have been working; nay, indeed, the very knives and forks from our plates. Once they actually took the meat out of the pot as it was boiling on the fire, substituting a stone! They will place their feet over any small article lying on the ground, burying it in the sand with their toes, and, if unable to carry it away at the time, they return to fetch it at a more convenient period.
I have suffered cruelly from their thievish propensities. When at the Lake they deprived me of almost the whole of my wardrobe, besides numerous other articles. Not liking to make a disturbance, and knowing the uselessness of complaining, I bore my misfortunes for a time with patience; but there is a limit to every thing. Finding, one morning, that a bag containing no less than forty pounds of shot (a most invaluable treasure to me) had disappeared in a mysterious manner, I could no longer restrain my rage. We tracked the thief to the water, but here, of course, all our efforts to follow him farther were frustrated. I then proceeded direct to the chief, and represented to him, in the strongest colors, the abominable conduct of his people, who robbed me with impunity under his very eyes, adding that their behavior was the more flagitious, as I had loaded both him and his men with presents, and treated them with undeviating kindness. To my astonishment and disgust, he laughed outright in my face, and told me that he could not control his men in this respect. Indeed, his own relations would play him the same trick.
"So much the more disgraceful to you," I remarked, adding that he might rest assured I would take good care to tell my countrymen of the villainous conduct of the people at Lake Ngami.
"Well," he replied, "I really can not assist you in this matter, but will give you wholesome advice, and my authority for acting on it; that is, to hang on the nearest tree the first man you catch stealing."
He said this with so much coolness, indifference, and good-humor, that I could not, vexed as I was, refrain from smiling; and, half reconciled, I turned away from him, exclaiming, "Well, Lecholètébè, you are an incurable rogue!"
That the people really did purloin articles from their own chief I had an instance when at the Lake. Entering a trader's hut one day, I observed some beautiful hippopotamus teeth, and on inquiring how he had become possessed of them, he replied, "Why, Lecholètébè has just asked the same question. They were stolen from the chief by his own uncle this very morning, who sold them to me as his individual property not above half an hour ago."
The attire of the Bechuanas is scanty enough. Those, however, who have had much intercourse with Europeans begin to adopt their mode of dress; but the women, contrary to custom, are very tenacious of their peculiar toilet, apparently preferring the garb of mother Eve. The appearance of the ladies is masculine, and far from prepossessing. Their figures are usually short, stout, and clumsy, which is still farther increased by the vast numbers of beads worn by the more wealthy, which hang in cumbrous coils round the waist and neck. Their wrists, arms, and ankles, moreover, are encircled by rings of copper, iron, and brass, of various forms and sizes. They delight in finery, and besides the decoration of their own persons, they profusely ornament their skin, shirts, and cloaks, the whole being bedaubed with masses of fat and red ochre. "Their naturally woolly hair is twisted in small cords, and matted with the above substances into apparently metallic pendules, which, being of equal length, assume the appearance of a skull-cap or inverted bowl of steel."
Notwithstanding the Bechuanas acknowledge us to be a superior race to themselves, they have no hesitation to pronounce many of our habits and customs both clumsy and troublesome. They laugh at us for putting our legs and arms into bags, and using buttons for the purpose of fastening bandages round our bodies, instead of suspending them as ornaments from the neck or hair of the head. Once initiated in the use of these things, however, they are but too glad to benefit by them. To wash the body instead of lubricating it with grease and red ochre seems to them a disgusting custom, and cleanliness about one's food, house, bedding, &c., often creates their mirth and ridicule.
The Bechuanas are great snuff-takers, and they indulge in the luxury to excess. Sharing the contents of your snuff-box with a stranger is almost the greatest compliment that can be paid to him. Knowing their propensity in this respect, I brought with me a large supply, but, on my arrival at the Lake, was astonished to find that they scarcely deigned to look at it. I soon discovered the cause of their singular abstinence, which arose simply from the article not being sufficiently pungent. Unless it forces tears into their eyes, they look upon snuff as worthless.
The way in which the Bechuanas themselves manufacture snuff is singular enough. A piece of tobacco being presented to a man, two stones are forthwith procured, between which the weed is carefully ground, and, when of sufficient fineness, a quantity of wood-ash is added, which, to their nostrils, constitutes the very perfection of snuff. When the amalgamation of the ingredients is perfected, every one present presses eagerly forward to have a pinch. Each fills the palm of his hand with the mixture, and scoops it into the nose with a peculiarly shaped iron or ivory spoon, hung round the neck, drawing every grain leisurely up into the nostrils in such abundance as to force big tears into the eyes, thus proving the extent of the enjoyment. "Worse than barbarian would that man be esteemed who would wantonly interrupt a social party so employed." Their greasy fingers constitute their handkerchiefs on such occasions, and their faces, after one of these "snuff-floods," may not inaptly be likened to a dewy and furrowed field. Their snuff-boxes are either the kernel of the palm-fruit, hollowed out, or a diminutive gourd, and, like the ladles, are suspended round the neck, though sometimes they are secured to the arm above the elbow.
The Bechuanas smoke, but it can hardly be said to be a fashionable vice among them. This is, at least, as regards the men, for the women, on the contrary, are inveterate smokers, a habit (as already mentioned when speaking of the Hill-Damaras) often productive of serious bodily disorders.
The occupations of the men consist chiefly in going to war, hunting, preparing fur and skins for carosses, milking the cows, &c., while those of the women are by far the heaviest—namely, the erection of houses, collecting and bringing fuel, tilling, sowing, reaping, thrashing and grinding the corn, not to mention the heavy task of rearing a family. While cultivating the ground, I have often seen a woman with one or two babies fastened to her back under a scorching sun. Yet, notwithstanding all these exhausting and galling duties, they would be amazed were a person to tell them that a state of "single blessedness" would be preferable to that of being the drudge of a haughty and indolent husband.
"While standing near the wife of one of the grandees," writes Mr. Moffat, "who, with some female companions, was building a house, and making preparations to scramble, by means of a branch, on to the roof, I remarked that they ought to get their husbands to do that part of the work. This set them all into a roar of laughter. Mahuto, the queen, and several of the men drawing near to ascertain the cause of the merriment, the wives repeated my—to them—strange and ludicrous proposal, when another peal of mirth ensued. Mahuto, who was a sensible and shrewd woman, stated that the plan, though hopeless, was a good one, as she often thought our custom was much better than theirs. It was reasonable that woman should attend to household affairs and the lighter parts of labor, while man, wont to boast of his superior strength, should employ his energy in more laborious occupations; adding, she wished I would give their husbands medicine to make them do the work."
The Bechuanas who inhabit the shores of the Ngami are rich in sheep and goats, but possess comparatively few horned cattle. Like other tribes of that nation, they are excessively fond of their oxen, but more particularly prize their cows, which scarcely any thing can induce them to part with. Indeed, they will readily give ivory, when plentiful, in exchange for cows.
Gardening and agriculture are much practiced by the Bechuanas. These occupations are conducted in nearly a similar manner as that described among the Ovambo. The vegetables and the grain are also very much the same.
The only marketable articles as yet ascertained at the Lake are ostrich feathers, furs and skins of various sorts, rhinoceros horns, and ivory (elephant and hippopotamus). The staple articles of exchange are beads, and more especially ammunition. Clothing is as yet but very little in demand, the people not being sufficiently advanced in civilization to care for such a luxury. Even beads are not sought after with the avidity they used to be, such quantities having of late been exported to the Lake country that (to use a vulgar, but very emphatic expression of Lecholètébè) "the women," who chiefly wear beads, "grunt under their burdens like pigs." No visitor, however, should be entirely without them. All large beads are useless. Small beads of the following colors, pink, dull white, light green, brick-colored, light blue, dark blue, and yellow, are chiefly in demand.
The Bechuanas of the Lake are fond of the chase, and almost daily parties are sent out to provide for the chief’s table. But, though possessed of a great number of fire-arms, few of the men have as yet attained any proficiency in their use. By far the greater portion of animals slain are obtained by means of pitfalls dug by the Bushmen and the Bayeye along the banks of the rivers. As many as thirty to forty pitfalls may be seen extending in one continuous line.
Though the finny tribe is pretty numerous in the Lake and its rivers, none of the Bechunas take the trouble to catch them. The conquered race, the Bayeye, however, are very expert and industrious fishermen.
- ↑ Some of the notions entertained of these people before the existence of the Ngami was known to Europeans are curious and amusing. Captain Messum, in an article in the Nautical Magazine on "the exploration of Western Africa," says that he had heard the inhabitants of the Lake regions represented as monsters, with only one eye in the centre of the forehead, and feeding on human flesh, as the giants of old used to take their breakfasts. "A baby was nothing; they swallowed it whole."
- ↑ Moffat.