CHAPTER XXIII
THE KRAAL JAZI
Now I shall pass over all the Zulu record of the next four years,
since after all it has nothing to do with my tale and I do not
pretend to be writing a history.
Sir Garnet Wolseley set up his Kilkenny cat Government in
Zululand, or the Home Government did it for him, I do not know
which. In place of one king, thirteen chiefs were erected who
got to work to cut the throats of each other and of the people.
As I expected would be the case, Zikali informed the military
authorities of the secret hiding-place in the Ingome Forest where
he suggested to Cetewayo that he should refuge. The ex-king was
duly captured there and taken first to the Cape and then to
England, where, after the disgrace of poor Sir Bartle Frere, an
agitation had been set on foot on his behalf. Here he saw the
Queen and her ministers, once more conquering, as it had been
prophesied that he would by her who wore the shape of Mameena at
the memorable scene in the Valley of Bones when I was present.
Often I have thought of him dressed in a black coat and seated in
that villa in Melbury Road in the suburb of London which I
understand is populated by artists. A strange contrast truly to
the savage prince receiving the salute of triumph after the
Battle of the Tugela in which he won the kingship, or to the
royal monarch to whose presence I had been summoned at Ulundi.
However, he was brought back to Zululand again by a British
man-of-war, re-installed to a limited chieftainship by Sir
Theophilus Shepstone, and freed from the strangling embrace of
the black coat.
Then of course there was more fighting, as every one knew would
happen, except the British Colonial Office; indeed all Zululand
ran with blood. For in England Cetewayo and his rights, or
wrongs, had, like the Boers and their rights, or wrongs, become a
matter of Party politics to which everything else must give way.
Often I wonder whether Party politics will not in the end prove
the ruin of the British Empire. Well, thank Heaven, I shall not
live to learn.
So Cetewayo came back and fought and was defeated by those who
once had been his subjects. Now for the last scene, that is all
with which I need concern myself.
At the beginning of February, 1884, business took me to Zululand;
it had to do with a deal in cattle and blankets. As I was
returning towards the Tugela who should I meet but friend Goza,
he who had escorted me from the Black Kloof to Ulundi before the
outbreak of war, and who afterwards escorted me and that
unutterable nuisance, Kaatje, out of the country. At first I
thought that we came together by accident, or perhaps that he had
journeyed a little way to thank me for the blankets which I had
sent to him, remembering my ancient promise, but afterwards I
changed my opinion on this point.
Well, we talked over many matters, the war, the disasters that
had befallen Zululand, and so forth. Especially did we talk of
that night in the Valley of Bones and the things we had seen
there side by side. I asked him if the people still believed in
the Inkosazana-y-Zulu who then appeared in the moonlight on the
rock. He answered that some did and some did not. For his part,
he added, looking at me fixedly, he did not, since it was
rumoured that Zikali had dressed up a white woman to play the
part of the Spirit. Yet he could not be sure of the matter,
since it was also said that when some of Cetewayo's people went
to kill this white woman in the Black Kloof, Nomkubulwana, the
Princess of Heaven herself, rose before them and frightened them
away.
I remarked that this was very strange, and then quite casually
asked him whom Zikali had dressed up to play the part of the dead
Mameena upon that same occasion, since this was a point upon
which I always thirsted for definite intelligence. He stared at
me and replied that I ought to be able to answer my own question,
since I had been much nearer to her who looked like Mameena than
any one else, so near indeed that all present distinctly saw her
kiss me, as it was well known she had liked to do while still
alive. I replied indignantly that they saw wrong and repeated my
question. Then he answered straight out--
"O Macumazahn, we Zulus believe that what we saw on that night
was not Nombe or another dressed up, but the spirit of the witch
Mameena itself. We believe it because we could see the light of
Zikali's fire through her, not always, but sometimes; also
because all that she said has come true, though everything is not
yet finished."
I could get no more out of him about the matter, for when I tried
to speak of it again, he turned the subject, telling me of his
wonderful escapes during the war. Presently he rose to go and
said casually--
"Surely I grow old in these times of trouble, Macumazahn, for
thoughts slip through my head like water through the fingers.
Almost I had forgotten what I wished to say to you. The other
day I met Zikali, the Opener of Roads. He told me that you were
in Zululand and that I should meet you--he did not say where,
only that when I did meet you, I was to give you a message. This
was the message--that when on your way to Natal you came to the
kraal Jazi, you would find him there; also another whom you used
to know, and must be sure not to go away without seeing him,
since that was about to happen in which you must take your part."
"Zikali!" I exclaimed. "I have heard nothing of him since the
war. I thought that by now he was certainly dead."
"Oh! no, Macumazahn, he is certainly not dead, but just the same
as ever. Indeed it is believed that he and no other has kept all
this broth of trouble on the boil, some say for Cetewayo's sake,
and some say because he wishes to destroy Cetewayo. But what do
I know of such matters who only desire to live in peace under
whatever chief the English Queen sends to us, as she has a right
to do having conquered us in war? When you meet the Opener of
Roads at the kraal Jazi, ask him, Macumazahn."
"Where the devil is the kraal Jazi?" I inquired with irritation.
"I never heard of such a place."
"Nor did I, therefore I cannot tell you, Macumazahn. For aught I
can say it may be down beneath where dead men go. But wherever
it is there certainly you will meet the Opener of Roads. Now
farewell, Macumazahn. If it should chance that we never look
into each other's eyes again, I am sure you will think of me
sometimes, as I shall of you, and of all that we have seen
together, especially on that night in the Vale of Bones when the
ghost of the witch Mameena prophesied to us and kissed you before
us all. She must have been very beautiful, Macumazahn, as indeed
I have heard from those who remember her, and I don't wonder that
you loved her so much. Still for my part l had rather be kissed
by a living woman than by one who is dead, though doubtless it is
best to be kissed by none at all. Again, farewell, and be sure
to tell the Opener of Roads that I gave you his message, lest he
should lay some evil charm upon me, who have seen enough evil of
late."
Thus talking Goza departed. I never saw him again, and do not
know if he is dead or alive. Well, he was a kindly old fellow,
if no hero.
I had almost forgotten the incident of this meeting when a while
later I found myself in the neighbourhood of the beautiful but
semi-tropical place called Eshowe, which since those days has
become the official home of the British Resident in Zululand.
Indeed, although the house was not then finished, if it had been
begun, Sir Melmoth Osborn already had an office there. I wished
to see him in order to give him some rather important
information, but when I reached a kraal of about fifty huts some
five hundred yards from the site of the present Residency, my
wagon stuck fast in the boggy ground. While l was trying to get
it out a quiet-faced Zulu, whose name, I remember, was Umnikwa,
informed me that Malimati, that is Sir Melmoth Osborn's native
name, was somewhere at a little distance from Eshowe, too far
away for me to get to him that night. I answered, Very well, I
would sleep where I was, and asked the name of the kraal.
He replied, Jazi, at which l started, but only said that it was a
strange name, seeing that it meant "Finished," or "Finished with
joy." Umnikwa answered, Yes, but that it had been so called
because the chief Umfokaki, or The Stranger, who married a sister
of the king, was killed at this kraal by his brother, Gundane, or
the Bat. I remarked that it was an ill-omened kind of name, to
which the man replied, Yes, and likely to become more so, since
the King Cetewayo who had been sheltering there "beneath the
armpit" of Malimati, the white lord, for some months, lay in it
dying. I asked him of what he was dying, and he replied that he
did not know, but that doubtless the father of the witch-doctors,
named Zikali, the Opener of Roads, would be able to tell me, as
he was attending on Cetewayo.
"He has sent me to bid you to come at once, O Macumazahn," he
added casually, "having had news that you were arriving here."
Showing no surprise, I answered that I would come, although
goodness knows I was surprised enough, and leaving my servants to
get my wagon out of the bog, I walked into the kraal with the
messenger. He took me to a large hut placed within a fence about
the gate of which some women were gathered, who all looked very
anxious and disturbed. Among them I saw Dabuko the king's
brother, whom I knew slightly. He greeted me and told me that
Cetewayo was at the point of death within the hut, but like
Umnikwa, professed ignorance of the cause of his illness.
For a long while, over an hour I should think, I sat there
outside the hut, or walked to and fro. Until darkness came I
could occupy myself with contemplating the scenery of the
encircling hills, which is among the most beautiful in Zululand
with its swelling contours and rich colouring. But after it had
set in only my thoughts remained, and these I found depressing.
At length I made up my mind that I would go away, for after all
what had I to do with this business of the death of Cetewayo, if
in truth he was dying? I wished to see no more of Cetewayo of
whom all my recollections were terrific or sorrowful. I rose to
depart, when suddenly a woman emerged from the hut. I could not
see who she was or even what she was like, because of the gloom;
also for the reason that she had the corner of her blanket thrown
over her face as though she wished to keep it hidden. For a
moment she stopped opposite to me and said--
"The king who is sick desires to see you, Macumazahn." Then she
pointed to the door-hole of the hut and vanished, shutting the
gate of the fence behind her. Curiosity overcame me and I
crawled into the hut, pushing aside the door-board in order to do
so and setting it up again when I was through.
Inside burned a single candle fixed in the neck of a bottle,
faintly illuminating that big and gloomy place. By its feeble
light I saw a low bedstead on the left of the entrance and lying
on it a man half covered by a blanket in whom I recognized
Cetewayo. His face was shrunken and distorted with pain, and his
great bulk seemed less, but still without doubt it was Cetewayo.
"Greeting, Macumazahn," he said feebly, "you find me in evil
case, but I heard that you were here and thought that I should
like to see you before I die, because I know that you are honest
and will report my words faithfully. I wish you to tell the
white men that my heart never really was against them; they have
always been the friends of my heart, but others forced me down a
road I did not wish to travel, of which now I have come to the
end."
"What is the matter with you, King?" I asked.
"I do not know, Macumazahn, but I have been sick for some days.
The Opener of Roads who came to doctor me, because my wives
believed those white medicine-men wished me dead, says that I
have been poisoned and must die. If you had been here at first
you might perhaps have given me some medicine. But now it is too
late," he added with a groan.
"Who then poisoned you, King?"
"I cannot tell you, Macumazahn. Perhaps my enemies, perhaps my
brothers, perhaps my wives. All wish to have done with me, and
the Great One, who is no longer wanted, is soon dead. Be
thankful, Macumazahn, that you never were a king, for sad is the
lot of kings."
"Where, then, is the Opener of Roads? "I asked.
"He was here a little while ago. Perhaps he has gone out to take
the King's head" (i.e., to announce his death) "to Malimati and
the white men," he answered in a faint voice.
Just then I heard a shuffling noise proceeding from that part of
the hut where the shadow was deepest, and looking, saw an
emaciated arm projected into the circle of the light. It was
followed by another arm, then by a vast head covered with long
white hair that trailed upon the ground, then by a big, mishapen
body, so wasted that it looked like a skeleton covered with
corrugated black skin. Slowly, like a chameleon climbing a
bough, the thing crept forward, and I knew it for Zikali. He
reached the side of the bed and squatted down in his toad-like
fashion, then, again like a chameleon, without moving his head
turned his deep and glowing eyes towards me.
"Hail, O Macumazahn," he said in his low voice. "Did l not
promise you long ago that you should be with me at the last, and
are you not with me and another?"
"It seems so, Zikali," I answered. "But why do you not send for
the white doctors to cure the king?"
"All the doctors, white and black, in the whole world cannot cure
him, Macumazahn. The Spirits call him and he dies. At his call
I came fast and far, but even I cannot cure him--although because
of him I myself must die."
"Why?" I asked.
"Look at me, Macumazahn, and say if I am one who should travel.
Well, all come to their end at last, even the
'Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born.'"
Cetewayo lifted his head and looked at him, then said heavily--
"Perchance it would have been better for our House if that end
had been sooner. Now that I lie dying many sayings concerning
you come into my mind that I had forgotten. Moreover, Opener of
Roads, I never sent for you, whoever may have done so, and it was
not until after you came here that the great pain seized me. How
did it happen," he went on with gathering force, "that the white
men caught me in the secret place where you told me I should
hide? Who pointed out that hidden hole to the white men? But
what does it matter now?"
"Nothing at all, O Son of Panda," answered Zikali, "even less
than it matters how I escaped the spear-head hidden in your robe,
yonder in my hut in the Black Kloof where, had it not been for a
certain spirit that stood between you and me, you would have
murdered me. Tell me, Son of Panda, during these last three days
have you thought at all of your brother Umbelazi, and of certain
other brethren of yours whom you killed at the battle of the
Tugela, when the white man here led the charge of the Amawombe
against your regiments and ate up three of them?"
Cetewayo groaned but said nothing. I think he had become too
faint to speak.
"Listen, Son of Panda," went on Zikali in an intense and hissing
voice. "Many, many years ago, before Senzangacona, your
grandfather, saw the light--who knows how long before--a man was
born of high blood in the Dwandwe tribe, which man was a dwarf.
Chaka the Black One conquered the Dwandwe, but this man of high
blood was spared because he was a dwarf, an abortion, to whom
Chaka gave the name of the
'Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born,' keeping him about him
to be a mock in times of peace and safety, and because he was
wise and learned in magic, to be a counsellor in times of
trouble. Moreover, Chaka killed this man's wives and children
for his sport, save one whom he kept to be his 'sister.'
"Therefore for the sake of his people and his butchered wives and
children, this wizard swore an oath of vengeance against Chaka
and all his House. Working beneath the ground like a rat, he
undermined the throne of Chaka and brought him to his death by
the spears of his brethren and of Mopo his servant, whom Chaka
had wronged. Still working in the dark like a rat, he caused
Dingaan, who stabbed Chaka, to murder the Boer Retief and his
people, and thus called down upon his head the vengeance of the
Whites, and afterwards brought Dingaan to his death. Then Panda,
your father, arose, and his life this
'Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born' spared because once
Panda had done him a kindness. Only through the witch Mameena he
brought sorrow on him, causing war to arise between his children,
one of whom was named Cetewayo.
"Then this Cetewayo ruled, first with his father Panda and
afterwards in his place, and trouble arose between him and the
English. Son of Panda, you will remember that this Cetewayo was
in doubt whether to fight the English and demanded a sign of the
Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born. He gave the sign,
causing the Inkosazana-y-Zulu, the Princess of Heaven, to appear
before him and thereby lifting the spear of War. Son of Panda,
you know how that war went, how this Cetewayo was defeated and
came to the 'Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born' like a
hunted hyena, to learn of a hole where he might hide. You know,
too, how he strove to murder the poor old doctor who showed him
such a hole; how he was taken prisoner and sent across the water
and afterwards set up again in the land that had learned to hate
him, to bring its children to death by thousands. And you know
how at last he took refuge beneath the wing of the white chief,
here in the kraal Jazi, and lived, spat upon, an outcast, until
at length he fell sick, as such men are apt to do, and the
Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born was sent for to doctor
him. And you know also how he lies dying, within him an agony as
though he had swallowed a red hot spear, and before him a great
blackness peopled by the ghosts of those whom he has slain, and
of his forefathers whose House he has pulled down and burned."
Zikali ceased, and thrusting his hideous head to within an inch
or two of that of the dying man, he glowered at him with his
fierce and fiery eves. Then he began to whisper into the king's
ear, who quivered at his words, as the victim quivers beneath the
torturer's looks.
At that moment the end of the candle fell into the bottle which
was of clear white glass, and there burned for a little while
dully before it went out. Never shall I forget the scene
illumined by its blue and ghastly light. The dying man lying on
the low couch, rocking his head to and fro; the wizard bending
over him like some grey vampire bat sucking the life-blood from
his helpless throat. The terror in the eyes of the one, the
insatiable hate in the eyes of the other. Oh! it was awful!
"Macumazahn," gasped Cetewayo in a rattling whisper, "help me,
Macumazahn. I say that I am poisoned by this Zikali, who hates
me. Oh! drive away the ghosts! Drive them away!"
I looked at him and at his tormentor squatted by him like a
mocking fiend, and as I looked the candle went out.
Then my nerve broke, the cold sweat poured from my face and I
fled from the hut as a man might from a scene in hell, followed
by the low mocking laugh of Zikali.
Outside the women and others were gathered in the gloom. I told
them to go to the king, who was dying, and blundered up the slope
to search for some white man. No one was to be found, but a
Kaffir messenger by the office told me that Malimati was still
away and had been sent for. So I returned to my wagon and lay
down in it exhausted, for what more could I do?
It was a rough night. Thunder muttered and rain fell in driving
gusts. I dozed off, only to be awakened by a sound of wailing.
Then I knew that the king was dead, for this was the Isililo, the
cry of mourning. I wondered whether the murderers--for that he
was poisoned I had no doubt--were among those who wailed.
Towards dawn the storm rolled off and the night grew serene and
clear, for a waning moon was shining in the sky. The heat of
that stiffing place oppressed me; my blood seemed to be afire. I
knew that there was a stream in a gorge about half a mile away,
for it had been pointed out to me. I longed for a swim in cool
water, who, to tell truth, had found none for some days, and
bethought me that I would bathe in this stream before I trekked
from that hateful spot, for to me it had become hateful. Calling
my driver, who was awake and talking with the voorloopers, for
they knew what was passing at the kraal and were alarmed, I told
them to get the oxen ready to start as I would be back presently.
Then I set off for the stream and, after a longish walk,
scrambled down a steep ravine to its banks, following a path made
by Kaffir women going to draw water. Arrived there at last I
found that it was in flood and rising rapidly, at least so I
judged from the sound, for in that deep, tree-hung place the
light was too faint to allow me to see anything. So I sat down
waiting for the dawn and wishing that I had not come because of
the mosquitoes.
At length it broke and the mists lifted, showing that the spot
was one of great beauty. Opposite to me was a waterfall twenty
or thirty feet high, over which the torrent rushed into a black
pool below. Everywhere grew tall ferns and beyond these graceful
trees, from whose leaves hung raindrops. In the centre of the
stream on the edge of the fall was a rock not a dozen feet away
from me, round which the water foamed. Something was squatted on
this rock, at first I could not see what because of the mist, but
thought that it was a grey-headed baboon, or some other animal,
and regretted that I had not brought a gun with me. Presently I
became aware that it must be a man, for, in a chanting voice, it
began to speak or pray in Zulu, and hidden behind a flowering
bush, I could hear the words. They were to this effect--
"O my Spirit, here where thou foundest me when I was young,
hundreds of years ago" (he said hundreds, but I suppose he meant
tens), "I come back to thee. In this pool I dived and beneath
the waters found thee, my Snake, and thou didst wind thyself
about my body and about my heart" (here I understood that the
speaker was alluding to his initiation as a witch-doctor which
generally includes, or used to include, the finding of a snake in
a river that coils itself about the neophyte). "About my body
and in my heart thou hast dwelt from that sun to this, giving me
wisdom and good and evil counsel, and that which thou hast
counselled, I have done. Now I return thee whence thou camest,
there to await me in the new birth.
"O Spirits of my fathers, toiling through many years I have
avenged you on the House of Senzangacona, and never again will
there be a king of the Zulus, for the last of them lies dead by
my hand. O my murdered wives and my children, I have offered up
to you a mighty sacrifice, a sacrifice of thousands upon
thousands.
"O Umkulu-kulu, Great One of the heavens, who sentest me to
earth, I have done thy work upon the earth and bring back to thee
thy harvest of the seed that thou hast sown, a blood-red harvest,
O Umkulu-kulu. Be still, be still, my Snake, the sun arises, and
soon, soon shalt thou rest in the water that wast thine from the
beginning of the world!"
The voice ceased, and presently a spear of light piercing the
mists, lit upon the speaker. It was Zikali and about him was
wound a great yellow-bellied snake, of which the black head with
flickering tongue waved above his head and seemed from time to
time to lick him on the brow. (I suppose it had come to him from
the water, for its skin glittered as though with wet.) He stood
up on tottering feet, staring at the red eye of the rising sun,
then crying, _"Finished, finished with joy!"_ with a loud and
dreadful laughter, he plunged into the foaming pool beneath.
Such was the end of Zikali the Wizard, Opener of Roads, the
"Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born," and such was the
vengeance that he worked upon the great House of Senzangacona,
bringing it to naught and with it the nation of the Zulus.
