There seems little doubt that Barrow’s idea of the origin of the Kaffir tribes in this country is a just one. He imagines them to be the descendants of those Arabs known to us by the name Bedouin. “These people” says he, “penetrated into every part of Africa. Colonies of them have found their way into the islands of Southern Africa, where more difficulties would occur than in an overland journey to the Cape of Good Hope. By skirting the Red Sea, and turning to the southward, the great desert of sand, which divides Africa into two parts, would be avoided, and the passage lies over a country inhabited, as far as is known, in every part.” The circumstance of their having short hair, would seem to militate against their Arabic origin; but their intermixture with the Hottentots and other nations along the coast may have produced this. Barrow adds, “Their skill in music is not above the level of the Hottentots.”
The latter have a most perfect ear for music, and cannot resist dancing and chorussing to a tune that pleases them. I have never heard the Kaffirs evince any disposition to sing, unless I except the monotonous drawl which the women utter for the men to dance to. Of the Fingo evensong, I shall have occasion to speak by and by.
It is already well-known that the Bosjemen and Hottentots are the aborigines of the whole of this part of South Africa. As one great proof of this, we find the names of the rivers are in the Hottentot language, between which and the Kaffir there is no affinity. It may, by the bye, be observed, that the Bosjeman and Kaffir languages have one thing in common,—a singular click, varying in its sound according to the letter pronounced: thus, C, T, R, and Q, appear to be the letters uttered in clicks—T is uttered between the teeth, like teh; the R also resembles T in its pronunciation; Q is produced by a click nearer the front of the teeth than is requisite for the pronunciation of the C, which in its turn resembles the noise made in imitation of drawing a cork, and when two Kaffirs, Fingoes, or Bushmen, are conversing together on any subject that excites them to unusual rapidity of speech or gesticulation, the effect is extraordinary.
I desire not to lengthen my work with long quotations from other writers, though to do so with that experience which a residence in the country must give, would be to compile a useful and entertaining chapter; but by here and there comparing what I see of these wild people with what I have read, much may be gathered together that will throw a light on matters connected with them in their present domestic state, if such a term may be applied to a who are not yet tamed, and who, I doubt, never will be so. Like the lion, the tiger, the panther, and all the roaming tenants of the bush, the mountain, or the kloof, the Kaffir has become identified with the country to which he now belongs; and, though here and there one or two may be brought to understand the meaning of good principle, as a body, the Kaffirs will fulfil the destiny of their great progenitor, Ishmael, of whom it has been decreed by God, that his descendants shall “have their hands against every man, and every man’s hand against them.” Even though a man be brought up among Christians from his youth, and accustomed to his dress by day, and his bed by night, in manhood he will most joyfully return to his kraal, his kaross, and his mat. The daughter of Cobus Congo (Konky) is a striking instance of this. Educated in the house of an excellent missionary, taught the value of principle, Konky is now married to a chief who has many other wives; she wears the kaross, and rides an unsaddled horse, after the same fashion as her husband and his cortège. If, however, the missionaries fail generally in the one grand object of converting the Kaffirs and Fingoes to Christianity, many among them may be brought to some degree of civilisation. Already those who have been prevailed upon to learn to read (the difficulty lies in getting them to learn at all,) are diligent, and thirst for knowledge; as they progress in this, their communion with Europeans becomes more intimate, gradually they may acquire a wish to be clothed, and this may be of consequence to our manufactories. Already the English blanket, greased till it becomes the colour of ochre, begins to supersede the skin kaross; and the common brown coverlid is another favourite drapery of the Kaffir. A printing press is established at D’Urban (a missionary station near Fort Peddie); and, besides the translation of the Bible, a periodical is published monthly, containing articles suited to the taste, comprehension, and habits of the native.
I have imagined that if some profitable employment were set on foot among them it would have a beneficial effect; but I understand that wool-combing was tried, which would have added to their cattle flocks of sheep, besides promoting habits of industry; but this failed,—their idleness is incorrigible. The principal articles of our manufacture coveted by them are fire-arms. There was before the late war some ill-devised and worse-executed law for the prevention of the sale of these, but it was of small effect. Even assegais made in England have been sent out here, but the Kaffirs object to our manufacture of iron, as being too malleable, preferring that prepared at their own primitive forges. I have heard it remarked that the bellows they use in forging are proof of their having sprung from a race more skilled in the arts of civilisation than themselves. Two pieces of hide are sown together in the form of a pointed bag; the wide part at top is stretched open by two sticks; in the point at the bottom, also open, is inserted a bullock’s horn, filed at the point, through which passes the air, which is admitted by opening and shutting the bellows at the wide end.
To enter upon a minute description of Kaffir habits, customs, ceremonials, and superstitions, would be to exceed my limits. I prefer confining myself to the results of my personal observations, which, however, from my long residence in Kaffirland, will embrace many points left unnoticed by writers who have merely travelled through the country.
Chapter V.
The Kaffirs—their Superstitions
The Kaffirs have no idea of a future state, and many can hardly be taught to believe that there are countries beyond their own. Some have a crude idea that Europeans, particularly the English, live on the waters in ships. Even to their own chiefs, and people who have been in England, they will give no credence. A Kaffir believes only what he sees. Latterly, they have become more inquisitive, and ask questions, wondering “if the Queen of England is like other human beings!”
They are so exceedingly superstitious that the more cunning members of their community take advantage of a weakness common to all, but possessed in a greater degree by some than by others. The system of “eating-up,” as it is called, arises from the prevalence of superstition, and may be thus described. A man, who, from his knowledge of herbs and practice among the sick, is considered and denominated a doctor, entertains, perhaps, a spite against some individual. He hears that another is sick,—if a chief so much the better for his purpose,—or perhaps he may employ some nefarious means to injure the health of a man by whom he intends to be employed. The chief, then, falls sick, naturally, or by foul means; meanwhile, the “doctor” has not been idle, he has carried to some hiding-place some herbs, skin, or something of this kind, and has buried it in a nook. Soon after comes the summons for him. He goes. The patient is suffering, and the mode of questioning the sick man is singular enough. With a grave face and solemn air, the doctor begins his inquiries,—“Does his head ache?” “No.” “Has he a sore throat?” “No.” “Pain in the shoulders?” “No.” “In the chest?” “No.” “In the arms?” “No.” And so on, till the part affected is touched. Then the pain is acknowledged, and there is a long pause. No one ventures to speak, save the doctor and the patient. At last, the former asks the invalid who has bewitched him? All disease is looked upon as the effect of magic, from their total ignorance of a Providence. The patient replies, he does not know. It is not improbable, indeed, he may be leagued with the doctor; or, if he be a chief, that he may have resolved on possessing