VI
The great drought fell upon Sisa-Land like a curse from Heaven. For
month after month the sun beat fiercely, the sky was as brass, and no
rain fell. Even the dews seemed to depart. The springs dried up. The
river Ukufa, the river called Death, ceased to flow, so that water
could only be found in its deepest hollows. The pool beneath the Rock
of Evildoers, the Death Rock, sank till the bones of those who had
been murdered there many years before appeared as the crocodiles had
left them. Cattle died because there was no grass; cows ceased to give
their milk even where they could be partially fed and watered, so that
the little children died also. Even in the dampest situations the
crops withered, till at last it became certain that unless rain fell
within a month, before another cold season had gone by there would be
starvation everywhere. For the drought was widespread, and therefore
corn could not be sent from other districts, even if there were cattle
to draw it.
Every day Thomas put up prayers for rain in the church, and on two
occasions held special services for this purpose. These were better
attended than any others had ever been, because his congregation felt
that the matter was extremely urgent, affecting them all, and that now
was the time when, whatever happened to the heathen, good Christians
like themselves should be rewarded.
However this did not chance, since the drought went on as fiercely as
before.
Menzi was, of course, a rain-doctor, a "Heaven-herd" of the highest
distinction; one who, it was reputed, could by his magic cause the
most brazen sky to melt in tears. His services had been called in by
neighbouring tribes, with the result, it was rumoured, that those
tribes had been rewarded with partial showers. Also with great
ceremony he had gone through his rites for the benefit of the heathen
section of the Sisa people. Behold! by some curious accident on the
following day a thunderstorm had come up, and with it a short deluge
of rain which sufficed to make it certain that the crops in those
fields on which it fell would keep alive, at any rate for a while.
But mark what happened. As is not uncommon in the case of thunder
showers, this rain fell upon the lands which the heathen cultivated on
one side of the koppie, whereas those that belonged to the Christian
section upon the other side received not a single drop. The unjust
were bedewed, the just were left dry as bones. All that they received
was the lightning, which killed an old man, one of the best Christians
in the place. The limits of the torrent might have been marked off
with a line. When it had passed, to the heathen right stood pools of
water; to the Christian left there was nothing but blowing dust.
Now these Christians, weak-kneed some of them, began to murmur,
especially those who, having passed through a similar experience in
their youth, remembered what starvation meant in that country.
Religion, they reflected, was all very well, but without mealies they
could not live, and without Kaffir corn there would be no beer.
Indeed, metaphorically, before long they passed from murmurs to
shouting, and their shouts said this: Menzi must be invited to
celebrate a rain-service in his own fashion for the benefit of the
entire tribe.
Thomas argued in vain. He grew angry; he called them names which
doubtless they deserved; he said that they were spiritual outcasts. By
this time, being frantic, his flock did not care what he said. Either
Menzi must come, they explained, or they would turn heathen. The Great
One in the sky could work as well through Menzi as through him,
Tombool or anybody else. Menzi /must/ come.
Thomas threatened to excommunicate them all, a menace which did not
amount to much as they were already excommunicating themselves, and
when they remained obstinate, told them that he would have nothing to
do with this rain-making business, which was unholy and repugnant to
him. He told them, moreover, that he was certain that their wickedness
would bring some judgment upon them, in which he proved to be right.
The end of it was that Menzi was summoned, and arrived with a
triumphant smile, saying that he was certain he could put everything
in order, and that soon they would have plenty of rain, that is, if
they all attended his invocations and made him presents suitable to so
great an occasion.
The result was that they did attend them, man, woman and child, seated
in a circle in that same old kraal where the witch-doctor had so
marvellously shown pictures upon the smoke. Each of them also brought
his gift in his hand, or, if it were a living thing, drove it before
him.
Thomas went down and addressed them in the midst of a sullen silence,
calling them wicked and repeating his belief that they would bring a
judgment on their own heads, they who were worshipping Baal and making
offerings to his priest.
After he had talked himself hoarse, Menzi said mildly that if the
Teacher Tombool had finished he would get to business. Why should the
Teacher be angry because he, Menzi, offered to do what the Teacher
could not--save the land from starving? And as for the gifts to
himself, did not White Teachers also receive pay and offerings at
certain feasts?
Then, making a gesture of despair, Thomas returned to his house, and
with Dorcas and Tabitha watched the savage ceremony from the edge of
the cliff that overhung the river, or rather what had been the river.
He could not see much of it because they were too far away, but he
perceived those apostate Christians prostrating themselves at Menzi's
order, probably, he reflected, to make prayers to the devil. In fact
they were not doing this, but only repeating Menzi's magical chants
with appropriate gestures, as for countless ages their forefathers had
done upon similar occasions.
Next an unfortunate black goat was dragged forward by the horns, a
very thin black goat, and its throat was cut over a little fire, a
sacrifice that suggested necromancy of the most Satanic sort.
After this Thomas and his family went back into the house and shut the
windows, that they might not hear the unholy shoutings of the
misguided mob. When they went out again Menzi had departed, and so had
the others. The place was empty.
The following day was Sunday, and Thomas locked the church on the
inner side, and read the service with Dorcas and Tabitha for sole
congregation. It was a melancholy business, for some sense of evil
seemed to hang over all three of them, also over everybody else, for
the Christians went about with dejected looks and not one person spoke
to them. Only Ivana came at night as usual to sleep with Tabitha,
though even she said nothing.
Next morning they woke up to find the heavens black with clouds,
heavy, ominous clouds; the truth being that the drought was drawing to
its natural end. Thomas noted this, and reflected bitterly how hard it
was that this end should not have come twenty-four hours earlier. But
so events had been decreed and he was helpless.
By midday it began to rain, lightly at first, and from his rock he
could see the people, looking unnatural and distorted in that strange
gloom, for the clouds had descended almost to the earth, rushing
about, holding out their hands as though to clasp the blessed moisture
and talking excitedly one to the other. Soon they were driven into
their huts, for the rain turned into a kind of waterspout. Never had
such rain been known in Sisa-Land.
All that afternoon it poured, and all the night with ever-increasing
violence; yes, and all the following morning, so that by noon Thomas's
rain-gauge showed that over twelve inches had fallen in about twenty-
four hours, and it was still raining. Water rushed down from the
koppie; even their well-built house could not keep out the wet, and,
to the despair of Dorcas, several of the rooms were flooded and some
of the new furniture was spoiled. The river beneath had become a
raging torrent, and was rising every hour. Already it was over its
banks, and the water had got into the huts of the Chief's kraal and
the village round it, so that their occupants were obliged to seek
safety upon the lower rocks of the koppie, where they sat shivering in
the wet.
Night came at last, and through the darkness they heard cries as of
people in distress. The long hours wore away till dawn, a melancholy
dawn, for still it rained, though more lightly now, and no sun could
be seen.
"Father," cried Tabitha, who, clad in oilskins, had gone a little way
down the road, "come here and look."
He went. The child pointed to the village below, or rather what had
been the village, for now there was none. It had gone and with it
Kosa's kraal; the site was a pool, the huts had vanished, all of them,
and some of the roofs lay upon the sides of the koppie, looking like
overturned coracles. Only the church and the graveyard remained, for
those stood on slightly higher ground by the banks of the river.
A little while later a miserable and dejected crowd arrived at the
mission-house, wrapped up in blankets or anything else that they had
managed to save.
"What do you want?" asked Thomas.
"Teacher," replied the Chief Kosa, with twitching face and rolling
eyes, "we want you to come down to the church and pray for us. Our
houses are gone, our fields are washed away. We want you to come to
pray for us, for more rain is gathering on the hills and we are
afraid."
"You mean that you are cold and wish to take refuge in the church, of
which I have the key. You have sought rain and now you have got rain,
such rain as you deserve. Why do you complain? Go to your witch-
doctor and ask him to save you."
"Teacher, come down to the church and pray for us," they wailed.
In the end Thomas went, for his heart was moved to pity, and Dorcas
and Tabitha went with him.
They entered the church, wading to it through several inches of water,
and the service of intercession began, attended by every Christian in
the place--except a few who were drowned--a miserable and heartily
repentant crowd.
While it was still in progress suddenly there was a commotion, and
Menzi himself rushed into the church. It was the first time he had
ever entered there.
"Come forth!" he cried. "Come forth if you would save your lives. The
water has eaten away the ground underneath this Heaven-house. It
falls! I say it falls!"
Then he peered about him in the shadowed place till he found Tabitha.
Leaping at her, he threw his long thin arms round her and bore her
from the church. The others began to follow swiftly, and as Menzi
passed the door carrying Tabitha, there came a dreadful rending sound,
and one of the walls opened, letting in the light.
All fled forth, Thomas still in his surplice and his soul filled with
bitterness, for as he went it came into his mind that this must be a
farewell to that cherished church reared with so much love, cost and
labour.
Outside the building on a patch of higher land, an upthrown plateau of
rock, where presently all gathered beyond the reach of the waters,
stood Menzi and Tabitha. Thomas looked at him and said:
"Doubtless you think that your spells have worked well, Witch-doctor,
for see the ruin about us. Yet I hold otherwise, and say, 'Wait till
the end!' To set a rock rolling down a hill is easy for those who have
the strength. But who knows on whom it will fall at last?"
"You speak foolishly, Teacher," answered Menzi. "I do not think that
my spells have worked well, for something stronger than I am has
spoiled them. Mayhap it is you, Teacher, or the /Great-Great/ whom you
serve in your own fashion. I do not know, but I pray you to remember
that long since on the smoke of my magic fire I showed you what would
come about if you re-built the Heaven-house upon this place. But you
said I was a cheat and would not be warned. Therefore things have gone
as the Spirits appointed that they should go. Your Christians made me
gifts and asked me to bring rain and it has come in plenty, and with
it other things, more than you asked. Look," and he pointed downwards.
The church was falling. Its last foundations were washed away. Down it
came with a mighty crash, to melt into the flood that presently filled
the place where it had been. Its collapse and the noise of it were
terrible, so terrible that the Christians gathered on the rock uttered
a heart-rending wail of woe. The spire, being built upon a deeper bed
because of its weight, stood longer than the rest of the fabric, but
presently it went also.
Thrice it seemed to bow towards them, then it fell like a child's
castle. Reckoning its height with his eye, Thomas saw that it could
not reach them where they stood, and so did the others, therefore no
one stirred. As the tower collapsed the clock sounded the first stroke
of the hour, then suddenly became silent for ever and vanished beneath
the waters, a mass of broken metal.
But the bell on which it had struck was hurled forward by the sway of
the fall like a stone from a sling. It sped towards them through the
air, a great dark object. Men ran this way and that, so that it fell
upon the rock where none stood. It fell; it flew to pieces like an
exploding shell, and its fragments hurtled over them with a screaming
sound. Yet as it chanced the tongue or clapper of it took a lower
course, perhaps because it was heavier, and rushing onwards like a
thrown spear, struck Menzi full upon the chest, crushing in his breast
bone.
They bore him up to the mission-house, since there was nowhere else
whither he could be taken. Here they laid him on a bed, leaving the
woman, Ivana, to watch him, for they had no skill to deal with such
injuries as his. Indeed, they thought him dead.
For a long while Menzi lay senseless, but after night had fallen his
mind returned to him and he bade Ivana bring Tabitha to him, Tabitha
and no one else. If she could not or would not come, then Ivana must
bring no one else, for if she did he would curse her and die at once.
There were discussions and remonstrances, but in the end Tabitha was
allowed to go, for after all a fellow-creature was dying, and this was
his last wish. She came, and Menzi received her smiling. Yes, he
smiled and saluted her with shaking but uplifted arm, naming her
/Inkosikazi/ and /Umame/, or Mother.
"Welcome, Maiden Imba. Welcome, Little Flower," he said. "I wish to
say good-bye to you and to bless you; also to endow you with my
Spirit, that it may guard you throughout your life till you are as I
am. I have hated some of the others, but I have always loved you,
Little Flower."
"And I have loved you too, Menzi," said Tabitha, with a sob.
"I know, I know! We witch-doctors read hearts. But do not weep, Little
Flower. Why should you for such as I, a black man, a mere savage
cheat, as your father named me? Yet I have not been altogether a
cheat, O Imba, though sometimes I used tricks like other doctors, for
I have a strength of my own which your white people will never
understand, because they are too young to understand. It only comes to
the old folk who have been since the beginning of the world, and
remain as they were at the beginning. I have been wicked, Little
Flower, according to your white law. I have killed men and done many
other things that are according to the law of my own people, and by
that law I look for judgment. Yet, O Imba, I will say this--that I
believe your law to be higher and better than my law. Has it not been
shown to-day, since of all that were gathered on the rock yonder I
alone was struck down and in the hour of my victory? The strongest law
must be the best law, is it not so? Tell me, Little Flower, would it
please you if I died a Christian?"
"Yes, very much," said Tabitha, fixing upon this point at once and by
instinct avoiding all the other very doubtful disputations. "I will
bring my father."
"Nay, nay, Little Flower. Your father, the Teacher Tombool, swore in
his wrath that he would not come to visit me even if I lay dying, and
now that I am dying he shall keep his oath and repent of it day by day
till he too is dying. If I am to die a Christian, you must make me one
this moment; /you/ and no other. Otherwise I go hence a heathen as I
have lived. If you bring your father here I will die at once before he
can touch me, as I have power to do."
Then Tabitha, who although so young had strength and understanding and
knew, if she thwarted him, that Menzi would do as he threatened, took
water and made a certain Sign upon the brow of that old witch-doctor,
uttering also certain words that she had often heard used in church at
baptisms.
Perhaps she was wrong; perhaps she transgressed and took too much upon
her. Still, being by nature courageous, she ran the risk and did these
things as afterwards Ivana testified to the followers of Menzi.
"Thank you, Little Flower," said Menzi. "I do not suppose that this
Christian magic will do me any good, but that you wished it is enough.
It will be a rope to tie us together, Little Flower. Also I have
another thought. When it is known that I became a Christian at the
last then, if /you/ bid them, Little Flower, the 'heathen-herd' will
follow where the bull Menzi went before them. They are but broken
sherds and scorched sticks" (i.e. rubbish) "but they will follow and
that will please you, Little Flower, and your father also."
Here Menzi's breath failed, but recovering it, he continued:
"Hearken! O Imba! I give my people into your hand; now let your hand
bend the twig as you would have it grow. Make them Christian if you
will, or leave them heathen if you will; I care nothing. They are
yours to drive upon whatever path you choose to set their feet,
/yours/, O Imba, not Tombool's. Also, I, who lack heirs, give you my
cattle, all of them. Ivana, make known my words, and with them the
curse of Menzi, the King's child, the /Umazisi/, the Seer, on any who
dare to disobey. Say to those of my House and to my people that
henceforth the Maiden Imba is their lady and their mother."
Again he paused a little, then went on:
"Now I charge my Spirit to watch over you, Little Flower, till you die
and we come to talk over these matters otherwhere, and my Spirit as it
departs tells me that it will watch well, and that you will be a very
happy woman, Little Flower."
He shut his eyes and lay still a while. Then he opened them again and
said:
"O Imba, tell your father, the Teacher Tombool, from me that he does
not understand us black people, whom he thinks so common, as you
understand us, Little Flower, and that he would be wise to go to
minister to white ones."
After this, once more he smiled at Tabitha and then shut his eyes
again for the last time, and that was the end of the witch-doctor
Menzi.
It may be added that after he had rebuilt the church for the second
time, and numbered all the "Menzi-herd" among his congregation, which
he did now that "the bull of the herd" was dead, as Menzi had foretold
that he would, if Tabitha, whom he had "wrapped with his blanket,"
decreed it, Thomas took the sage advice of his departed enemy.
Now, in the after years, he is the must respected if somewhat feared
bishop of white settlers in a remote Dominion of the Crown.
Thomas to-day knows more than he used to know, but one thing he has
never learned, namely that it was the hand of a maid, yes, the little
hidden hand of Tabitha, that drove all "Menzi's herd" into the gates
of the "Heavenly Kraal," as some of them named his church.
For Tabitha knew when to be silent. Perhaps the Kaffirs, whose minds
she could read as an open book, taught her this; or perhaps it was one
of the best gifts to her of old Menzi's "Spirit," into whose care he
passed her with so much formality.
This is the story of the great fight between Thomas Bull the
missionary and Menzi the witch-doctor, who was led by his love of a
little child whither he never wished to go; not for his own soul's
sake, but just because of that little child.
Menzi did not care about his soul, but, being so strange a man, for
some reason that he never explained, for Tabitha, his "Little Flower,"
he cared very much indeed. That was why he became a Christian at the
last, since in his darkened, spell-bound heart he believed that if he
did not, when she too "went down" he would never find her again.
