III
In the end, as may be guessed, Dorcas, who was a good and faithful
little soul, accompanied her husband to the Sisa country. Tabitha went
also, rejoicing, having learned that in this happy land there was no
school. Dorcas found the journey awful, but really, had she but known
it, it was most fortunate, indeed ideal. Her husband, who was a little
anxious on the point, had made the best arrangements that were
possible on such an expedition.
The wagon in which they trekked was good and comfortable, and although
it was still the rainy season, fortune favoured them in the matter of
weather, so that when they came to the formidable river, they were
actually able to trek across it with the help of some oxen borrowed
from a missionary in that neighbourhood, without having recourse to
the dreaded rope-slung basket, or even to the punt.
Beyond the river they were met by some Christian Kaffirs of the Sisa
tribe, who were sent by the Chief Kosa to guide them through the
hundred miles or so of difficult country which still lay between them
and their goal. These men were pleasant-spoken but rather depressed
folk, clad in much-worn European clothes that somehow became them very
ill. They gave a melancholy account of the spiritual condition of the
Sisas, who since the death of their last pastor, they said, were
relapsing rapidly into heathenism under the pernicious influence of
Menzi, the witch-doctor. Therefore Kosa sent his greetings and prayed
the new Teacher to hurry to their aid and put a stop to this state of
things.
"Fear nothing," said Thomas in a loud voice, speaking in Zulu, which
by now he knew very well. "I /will/ put a stop to it."
Then they asked him his name. He replied that it was Thomas Bull,
which after the native fashion, having found out what bull meant in
English, they translated into a long appellation which, strictly
rendered, meant /Roaring-Leader-of-the-holy-Herd/. When he found this
out, Thomas flatly declined any such unchristian title, with the
result that, anxious to oblige, they christened him "Tombool," and as
"Tombool" thenceforward he was known. (Dorcas objected to this name,
but Tabitha remarked sagely that at any rate it was better than
"Tomfool.")
This was to his face, but behind his back they called him /Inkunzi/,
which means bull, and in order to keep up the idea, designated poor
Dorcas /Isidanda/, that being interpreted signified a gentle-natured
cow. To Tabitha they gave a prettier name, calling her /Imba/ or
Little Flower.
At first Dorcas was quite pleased with her title, which sounded nice,
but when she came to learn what it meant it was otherwise.
"How can you expect me, Thomas, to live among a people who call me 'a
mild cow'?" she asked indignantly.
"Never mind, my dear," he answered. "In their symbolical way they are
only signifying that you will feed them with the milk of human
kindness," a reply which did not soothe her at all. In fact, of the
three the child alone was pleased, because she said that "Opening
Flower" was a prettier name than Tabbie, which reminded her of cats.
Thenceforward, following a track, for it could not be called a road,
they advanced slowly, first over a mountain pass on the farther side
of which the wagon nearly upset, and then across a great bush-clad
plain where there was much game and the lions roared round them at
night, necessitating great fires to frighten them away. These lions
terrified Dorcas, a town-bred woman who had never seen one of them
except in the Zoo, so much that she could scarcely sleep, but oddly
enough Tabitha was not disturbed by them.
"God will not let us be eaten by a lion, will He, Father?" she asked
in her simple faith.
"Certainly not," he answered, "and if the brute tries to do so I shall
shoot it."
"I'd rather trust to God, Father, because you know you can never hit
anything," replied Tabitha.
Fortunately, however, it never became necessary for Thomas to show his
skill as a marksman, for when they got through the bushveld there were
no more lions.
On the fourth day after they left the river they found themselves upon
gentle sloping veld that by degrees led them upwards to high land
where it was cold and healthy and there were no mosquitoes. For two
days they trekked over these high lands, which seemed to be quite
uninhabited save by herds of feeding buck, till at length they
attained their crest, and below them saw a beautiful mimosa-clad plain
which the guides told them was the Sisa Country.
"The Promised Land at last! It makes me feel like another Moses," said
Thomas, waving his arm.
"Oh, isn't it lovely!" exclaimed Tabitha.
"Yes, dear," answered her mother, "but--but I don't see any town."
This indeed was the case because there was none, the Sisa kraal, for
it could not be dignified by any other name, being round a projecting
ridge and out of sight. For the rest the prospect was very fair, being
park-like in character, with dotted clumps of trees among which ran,
or rather wound, a silver stream that seemed to issue from between two
rocky koppies in the distance.
These koppies, the guides told them, were the gates of Sisa Town. They
neglected to add that it lay in a hot and unhealthy hill-ringed hollow
beyond them, the site having originally been chosen because it was
difficult to attack, being only approachable through certain passes.
Therefore it was a very suitable place in which to kraal the cattle of
the Zulu kings in times of danger. That day they travelled down the
declivity into the plain, where they camped. By the following
afternoon they came to the koppies through which the river ran, and
asked its name. The answer was /Ukufa/.
"/Ukufa?/" said Thomas. "Why, that means Death."
"Yes," was the reply, "because in the old days this river was the
River of Death where evil-doers were sent to be slain."
"How horrible!" said Dorcas, for unfortunately she had overheard and
understood this conversation.
By the side of the river was a kind of shelf of rock that was used as
a road, and over this they bumped in their wagon, till presently they
were past the koppies and could see their future home beyond. It was a
plain some miles across, and entirely surrounded by precipitous hills,
the river entering it through a gorge to the north. In the centre of
this plain was another large koppie of which the river /Ukufa/, or
Death, washed one side. Around this koppie, amid a certain area of
cultivated land, stood the "town" of the Christian branch of the Sisa.
It consisted of groups of huts, ten or a dozen groups in all, set on
low ground near the river, which suggested that the population might
number anything between seven hundred and a thousand souls.
At the time that our party first saw it the sun was sinking, and had
disappeared behind the western portion of the barricade of hills.
Therefore the valley, if it may be so called, was plunged in a gloom
that seemed almost unnatural when compared with the brilliant sky
above, across which the radiant lights of an African sunset already
sped like arrows, or rather like red and ominous spears of flame.
"What a dreadful place!" exclaimed Dorcas. "Is our home to be here?"
"I suppose so," answered Thomas, who to tell the truth for once was
himself somewhat dismayed. "It does look a little gloomy, but after
all it is very sheltered, and home is what one makes it," he added
sententiously.
Here the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the Chief and
some of the Christian portion of the Sisa tribe, who having been
warned of its approach by messenger, to the number of a hundred and
fifty or so had advanced to meet the party.
They were a motley crowd clad in every kind of garment, ranging from a
moth-eaten General's tunic to practically nothing at all. Indeed, one
tall, thin fellow sported only a battered helmet of rusty steel that
had drifted here from some European army, a /moocha/ or waistbelt of
catskins, and a pair of decayed tennis-shoes through which his toes
appeared. With them came what were evidently the remains of the church
choir, when there was a church, for they wore dirty fragments of
surplices and sang what seemed to be a hymn tune to the strains of a
decadent accordion.
The tune was long and ended in a kind of howl like to that of a
disappointed jackal. When at length it was finished the Chief Kosa
appeared. He was a middle-aged man, become prematurely old because he
had lived too fast in his pre-Christian days, or so report said. Now
he had a somewhat imbecile appearance, for his fingers twitched and
when he spoke his mouth jerked up at the corners; also he kept looking
over his shoulder as though he were afraid of something behind him.
Altogether he inspired Thomas with no confidence. Whatever else he
might be, clearly he was not a staff for a crusader to lean upon.
Still he came forward and made a very nice speech, as a high-bred
native noble, such as he was, can almost invariably do. With many
pious expressions he welcomed the new Teacher, saying that he and his
people, that is those of them who were Christians, would do their best
to make him happy.
Thomas thanked him in appropriate language, adding that he on his part
would do his best to promote their welfare and to save their souls.
Kosa replied that he was glad to hear it, because these needed saving,
since most of the Sisa people were now servants of the devil. Since
the last /Umfundisi/, or Teacher died, they had been walking the road
to hell at a very great pace, marrying many wives, drinking gin and
practising all kinds of witchcraft under the guidance of the /Isanusi/
or doctor, Menzi. This man, he added, had burned down the church and
the mission-house by his magic, though these had seemed to be
destroyed by lightning.
With a proud gesture Thomas announced that he would soon settle Menzi
and all his works, and that meanwhile, as the darkness was coming on,
he would be glad if Kosa would lead them to the place where they were
to sleep.
So they started, the accordion-man, playing execrably, leading the
way, and trekked for about a mile and a half till they came to the
koppie in the centre of the plain, reaching it by following the left
bank of the river that washed its western face.
Passing between a number of tumbled walls built of loose stones, that
once in bygone generations had sheltered the cattle of Chaka and other
Zulu kings, they reached a bay in the side of the koppie that may have
covered four acres of ground. Here by the edge of the river, but
standing a little above it, were the burnt-out ruins of a building
that by its shape had evidently been a church, and near to it other
ruins of a school and of a house which once was the mission-station.
As they approached they heard swelling from within those cracked and
melancholy walls the sound of a fierce, defiant chant which Thomas
guessed must be some ancient Zulu war-song, as indeed it was. It was a
very impressive song, chanted by many people, which informed the
listeners that those who sung it were the King's oxen, born to kill
the King's enemies, and to be killed for the King, and so forth; a
deep-noted, savage song that thrilled the blood, at the first sound of
which the accordion gave a feeble wail and metaphorically expired.
"Isn't that beautiful music, Father. I never heard anything like that
before," exclaimed Tabitha.
Before Thomas could answer, out from the ruined doorway of the Church
issued a band of men--there might have been a hundred of them--clad in
all the magnificent panoply of old-time Zulu warriors, with tall
plumes upon their heads, large shields upon their arms, kilts about
their middles, and fringes of oxtails hanging from their knees and
elbows. They formed into a double line and advanced, waving broad-
bladed assegais. Then at a signal they halted by the wagon and uttered
a deep-throated salute.
In front of their lines was a little withered old fellow who carried
neither shield nor spear, but only a black rod to which was bound the
tail of a /wildebeeste/. Except for his /moocha/ he was almost naked,
and into his grey hair was woven a polished ring of black gum, from
which hung several little bladders. Upon his scraggy neck was a
necklace of baboon's teeth and amulets, whilst above the /moocha/ was
twisted a snake that might have been either alive or stuffed.
His face, though aged and shrunken, was fine-featured and full of
breeding, while his hands and feet were very small; his eyes were
brooding, the eyes of a mystic, but when his interest was excited
their glance was as sharp as a bradawl. Just now it was fixed on
Thomas, who felt as if it were piercing him through and through. The
owner of the eyes, as Thomas guessed at once, was Menzi, a witch-
doctor very famous in those parts.
"Why are these men armed with spears? It is against the law for
Kaffirs to carry spears," he said to the Chief.
"This is Portuguese Territory; there is no law in Portuguese
Territory," answered Kosa with a vacant stare.
"Then we might be all murdered here and no notice taken," exclaimed
Thomas.
"Yes, Teacher. Many people have been murdered here: my father was
murdered, and I dare say I shall be."
"Who by?"
Kosa made no answer, but his vacant eyes rested for a little while on
Menzi.
"Good God! what a country," said Thomas to himself, looking at Dorcas
who was frightened. Then he turned to meet Menzi, who was advancing
towards them.
Casting a glance of contempt at Kosa, of whom he took no further
notice, Menzi saluted the new-comers by lifting his hand above his
head. Then with the utmost politeness he drew a snuff-box fashioned
from the tip of a buffalo-horn out of a slit in the lobe of his left
ear, extracted the wooden stopper and offered Thomas some snuff.
"Thank you, but I do not take that nastiness," said Thomas.
Menzi sighed as though in disappointment, and having helped himself to
a little, re-stoppered the horn and thrust it back into the lobe of
his ear. Next he said, speaking in a gentle and refined voice:
"Greeting, Teacher, who, the messengers tell us, are called Tombool in
your own language and in ours /Inkunzi/. A good name, for in truth you
look like a bull. I am glad to see that you are made much more robust
than was the last Teacher, and therefore will live longer in this
place than he did. Though as for the lady-teacher----" and he glanced
at the delicate-looking Dorcas.
Thomas stared at this man, to whom already he had taken a strong
dislike. Then moved thereto either by a very natural outburst of
temper, or perchance by a flash of inspiration, he replied:
"Yes, I shall live longer than did my brother, who died here and has
gone to Heaven, and longer I think than you will."
This personal remark seemed to take Menzi aback; indeed for a moment
he looked frightened. Recovering himself, however, he said:
"I perceive, Teacher Tombool, that like myself you are a witch-doctor
and a prophet. At present I do not know which of us will live the
longer, but I will consult my Spirits and tell you afterwards."
"Pray do not trouble to do so on my account, for I do not believe in
your Spirits."
"Of course you do not, Teacher. No doctor believes in another doctor's
Spirits, since each has his own, and there are more Spirits than there
are doctors. Teacher Tombool, I greet you and tell you at once that we
are at war over this matter of Spirits. This tribe, Teacher, is a
cleft log, yes, it is split into two. The Chief there, Kosa, sits on
one half of the log with his Christians; I sit on the other half with
the rest, who are as our fathers were. So if you wish to fight I shall
fight with such weapons as I have. No, do not look at the spears--not
with spears. But, if you leave me and my following alone, we shall
leave you alone. If you are wise I think that you will do well to walk
your own road and suffer us to walk ours."
"On the contrary," answered Thomas, "I intend that all the Sisa people
shall walk one road, the road that leads to Heaven."
"Is it so, Teacher?" Menzi replied with a mysterious smile.
Then he turned his head and looked at the darkling river that just
here, where it ran beneath an overhanging ledge of the koppie, was
very deep and still. Thomas felt that there was a world of meaning in
his look, though what it might be he did not know. Suddenly he
remembered that this river was named Death.
After Menzi had looked quite a long while, once more he saluted as
though in farewell, searching the faces of the three white people,
especially Tabitha's, with his dreamy eyes and, letting them fall,
searching the ground also. Near to where he stood grew a number of
veld flowers, such as appear in their glory after the rains in Africa.
Among these was a rare and beautiful white lily. This lily Menzi
plucked, and stepping forward, presented it to Tabitha, saying:
"A flower for the Flower! A gift to a child from one who is
childless!"
Her father saw and meditated interference. But he was too late;
Tabitha had already taken the lily and was thanking Menzi in his own
tongue, which she knew well enough, having been brought up by Zulu
nurses. He smiled at her, saying:
"All Spirits, black or white, love flowers."
Then for a third time he saluted, not the others, but Tabitha, with
more heartiness than before, and turning, departed, followed by his
spearmen, who also saluted Tabitha as they filed in front of her.
It was a strange sight to see these great plumed men lifting their
broad spears to the beautiful bright-haired child who stood there
holding the tall white lily in her hand as though it were a sceptre.
