CHIEF CHARACTERISTICS OF KAFFIR ARCHITECTURE — PREVALENCE OF THE CIRCULAR FORM — INABILITY OF THE KAFFIR TO DRAW A STRAIGHT LINE — GENERAL FORM OF THE KAFFIR’S HUT — THE INCREDULITY OF IGNORANCE — METHOD OF HOUSE-BUILDING — PRECAUTION AGAINST INUNDATION — FEMALE ARCHITECTS — MODE OF PLANNING A HUT — KAFFIR OSTENTATION — FRAGILITY OF THE HUT — ANECDOTE OF WARFARE — THE ENRAGED ELEPHANT, AND A DOMESTIC TRAGEDY — HOW THE ROOF IS SUPPORTED — SMOKE AND SOOT — THE HURDLE DOOR — HOW IT IS MADE — SCREENS FOR KEEPING OFF THE WIND — DECORATIONS OF DINGAN’s HOUSE — AVERAGE FURNITURE OF THE KAFFIR HUT — THE KRAAL, ITS PLAN AND PRINCIPLES OF CONSTRUCTION — KNOWLEDGE OF FORTIFICATION — CHIEF OBJECT OF THE KRAAL — TWO MODES OF MAKING THE FENCE — THE ABATTIS AND THE CHEVAUX DE FRISE — SIZE OF THE KRAAL — THE KING’S MILITARY KRAAL OR GARRISON TOWN — VISIT TO ONE OF PANDA’S KRAALS — THE HAREM, ITS INMATES AND ITS GUARDIANS.

The architecture of these tribes is very simple, and, although slightly variable in different localities, is marked throughout by similar characteristics. On looking at any specimen of Kaffir architecture, the spectator is at once struck with one peculiarity, namely, that all his buildings are circular. It is a remarkable fact that the Kaffir does not seem to be capable of marking out a straight line, and whether he builds a hut, or erects a fence, he takes the circle as his guide. A Kaffir’s attempts to erect a square enclosure, or even to build a fence in a straight line, are ludicrous failures. With Europeans the case is different. A settler who desires to build a fence wherein to enclose his garden, or a stockade within which his house and property can remain in safety, invariably builds on the rectilinear principle, and makes the fence in the form of a square. He would feel himself quite fettered if he were forced to build a circular enclosure, whereas the Kaffir would be as much at a loss if he were obliged to build a square edifice. Indeed, though the European could, at the cost of some trouble, build a circular house, and would make his circle true, the Kaffir would utterly fail in attempting to make a building of a square or an oblong form.

One of my friends, who has travelled much among the Kaffir tribes, and gone among villages whose inhabitants had never seen an European building, told me that it was hardly possible to make the natives comprehend the structure of an European house. The very shape of it puzzled them, and the gable ends and the ridged roof seemed so strange to them as to be scarcely credible. As to the various stories in a house, several rooms on a story, and staircases which lead from one to the other, they flatly declined to believe that anything of the kind could exist, and thought that their guest was trying to amuse himself at the expense of their credulity. They did believe in the possibility of St. Paul’s cathedral, on account of its domed roof, but they could not be induced to believe in its size. They defended their position by argument, not merely contenting themselves with assertions. Their chief argument was derived from the impossibility of such a building sustaining its own weight. The only building materials of which they had any experience were the posts and sticks of which their own houses were made, and the reeds wherewith they were thatched. Sometimes a very luxurious house-owner would plaster the interior with mud, producing that peculiar style of architecture which is popularly called “wattle-and-daub.” They could not comprehend in the least that stone could be used in building dwelling-houses; and the whole system of cutting stone into rectangular pieces, and the use of bricks, was equally beyond their comprehension. Mortar also was an inexplicable mystery, so that on the whole they decided on discrediting the tales told them by the white man.

A Kaffir house (see page 155) looks just like an exaggerated beehive. It is of precisely the same shape, is made of nearly the same materials, and has a little arched door, just like the entrance of a beehive, through which a man can barely creep on his hands and knees. The structure of these huts is very simple. A circle is drawn of some fourteen feet in diameter, and around it are stuck a number of long, flexible sticks. These sticks are then bent over at the top and tied together, so as to form a framework very like a common wire mousetrap. A reed thatching is then laid over the sticks, and secured in its place by parallel lashings. These lashings are made of “monkey-ropes,” or the creepers that extend their interminable length from tree to tree, and are found of every size, from a cable to a packthread. They twist themselves into so rope-like a shape, that many persons have refused to believe that they have not been artificially made. The rows of lashing are about eighteen inches apart. In shape, the hut is exactly like the well-known snow house of the Esquimaux.

As, during the wet season, the rain pours down in torrents, the huts would be swamped for several months but for the precaution which the natives take of digging round each hut a trench of some eighteen inches or two feet in depth, and the same in breadth. This trench is about six inches from the wall of the hut, and serves to keep the floor dry. The reader may remember that all European soldiers are taught to dig a trench round each hut while they are under canvas, the neglect of this precaution being sure to cause both great inconvenience and unhealthiness.

The woman generally marks the outline of her hut in a very simple manner. She takes a number of flexible sticks, and ties them together firmly with leathern thongs, or the rough and ready string which the Kaffirs make from rushes by tearing them into strips and rolling them on the leg with the palm of the hand. Three or even four sticks are usually joined together, in order to attain sufficient length. She then pushes one end deeply into the ground, bends the other end over so as to make an arch, and pushes that into the ground also. This arch becomes the key to the whole building, settling its height and width. Another arch is set in the ground at right angles to the former, and the two are lashed together at the top where they cross, so that a rough kind of skeleton of the hut is made in a very short time.

On the roof of the hut may sometimes be seen the skulls of oxen. This ornament is highly characteristic of the Kaffir. The high value which he sets on his cows is not surpassed by the love of the most confirmed miser for his gold. But there is another trait of the Kaffir mind, which is even stronger than avarice, and that is ostentation, to which his cattle become of secondary consideration. Unwilling as he is to kill any of the cattle which constitute his wealth, and which he values scarcely less than his own life, he will, on certain occasions, slaughter one, and give a feast to his neighbors, who are sure to praise him in terms suitable to the magnificence—i. e. the quantity—of the banquet. He is nearly certain to be addressed as Father, and perhaps some of the more enthusiastic, when excited by beef, beer, and snuff, may actually hail him as Chief. The slaughter of an ox is therefore a great event in the life of a Kaffir, and is sure to act as a step toward higher rank. Lest the memory of such an event should fade away as soon as the banquet has been ended, the proud donor takes the skull of the slaughtered ox and places it on the roof of his hut, where it remains as a sign that the owner of the dwelling is a man of property, and has been able to spare one of his oxen to serve as a feast for his friends.

The building being now finished, the opening which serves as a door is cut on one side, its edges guarded with plaited twigs, and the Kaffir desires no better house. Though it has no window, no chimney, and no door that deserves the name, he would not exchange it for a palace, and many instances have been known where Kaffirs who have been taken to European cities, have travelled much, and been tolerably educated, have flung off their civilized garments, re-assumed the skin-dress of their nation, and gone off to live in huts instead of houses. The whole structure is necessarily very fragile, and the walls cannot endure much violence. A curious example of their fragility occurred some time ago, when one chief made a raid upon the village of another. A number of men had taken refuge in a hut, from which it was not easy to drive them. Assagais were hurled through the sides of the hut, and did much damage to the inmates. The survivors tried to save themselves by climbing up the framework of the hut and clinging to the roof, but the slight structure could not support their bodies, and by yielding to their weight betrayed them to the watchful enemies without.

The upper illustration on page 63 represents the interior of an exceptionally large hut, being, in fact, the principal residence of a chief. Very few huts have more than four supporting posts. On the left may be seen two of the large store baskets, in which milk is kept and made into “amasi,” while just beyond the first basket is a sleeping mat rolled up and resting against the wall. Some large earthenware pots, such as are used in cookery, are seen at the farther end of the hut, and a calabash rests against one of the posts. To the roof are hung bunches of maize, according to the curious Kaffir custom, which seems to ignore the fact that every thing on the roof of a hut is soon blackened with soot, owing to the smoke from the fire. Whether large or small, all the houses are made on exactly the same principle, and except for their superior size, and the ox skulls which decorate them, the houses occupied by chiefs have nothing to distinguish them from those which are inhabited by their dependants.

Against brute foes the hut is sometimes but a frail protection. On one occasion an elephant was attracted by a quantity of millet, which was stored within a fence. He pushed his way through the useless barrier, and began feeding on the millet. There was a fire in one of the huts, and the elephant, instead of being scared by it, became angry, knocked the house to pieces, and walked over the ruins, trampling to death a woman who was lying asleep. Her husband nearly shared the same fate, but managed to roll out of the way, and then to escape by creeping between the legs of the angry elephant.

The roof of the hut is not wholly dependent for support on the flexible sticks which form its walls, but is held up by a post or two, on the top of which is laid a cross-beam. This arrangement also permits the owner of the hut to hang to the beam and posts sundry articles which he does not wish to be injured by being thrown on the ground, such as gourds, baskets, assagai-shafts, spoons, and other implements.

Ranged carelessly round the hut are the rude earthenware pots, in which the Kaffir keeps his beer, his milk, and present stores of grain. The floor of the hut is always kept scrupulously clean, and is generally as hard as stone, being made of well-kneaded clay laid very smoothly, and beaten until it is quite hard. The best clay for this purpose is obtained from the nests of the white ant, which are beaten to pieces, then pounded, and then mixed very carefully with water. In a well-regulated hut, the women are very careful of their floor, and rub it daily with flat stones, until it is not only smooth, but even polished.

Just within the entrance is the primitive fireplace. This, like almost everything which the Kaffir makes, is circular in form, and is made usually of mud; its only object is to confine the embers within a limited space.

Cooking is not always carried on in the ordinary house, nor is the fire kept constantly. In a permanent kraal there are cooking huts erected for that one special purpose, and not used for any other. They may be called demi-huts, as their only object is to guard the fire from the effect of wind. They are circular, like all ordinary huts, but their walls are only four feet or so in height, and are carefully daubed with a mixture of clay and cowdung, so as to form a most efficient protection against the wind. The smoke from the fire is allowed to escape as it can. Some of it contrives to force its way between the interstices of the thatch, as may be seen by reference to the illustration on page 63. Some of it circles around the walls and pours through the door-way, but the greater part of it settles, in the form of soot, upon the interior of the hut, blackening everything within it. When the Kaffirs wish to season the wood of their assagai-shafts or knobkerries, they stick it into the roof of the house, just above the fireplace, exactly as bacon is cured in the smoke.

A curious reference to this custom is made in a song composed in honor of Panda, King of the Zulu tribes. When Dingan murdered his predecessor Tchaka, he killed other chiefs at the same time, but was persuaded to leave Panda alive—

Reference is here made to the custom of leaving sticks and shafts in the sooty roof.

At night, the entrance of the hut is closed by a simple door made of wicker work, and looking much like the closely-woven sheep hurdles which are used in some parts of England. With the exception that the Kaffir always sits down at his work, the mode of making these doors is almost identical with that which is employed by the shepherds in this country.

The Kaffir begins by choosing some straight and tolerably stout sticks, and driving them into the ground at regular distances from each other. These are intended as the supports or framework of the door. He then takes a quantity of pliant sticks, like the osiers of our basket makers, and weaves them in and out of the upright stakes, beating them down continually to make them lie closely together. When the door is completed, the upright sticks are cut off to the proper length, and it can then be fitted to the hut. If the reader has any acquaintance with military affairs, he may remember that gabions are made in precisely the same manner, except that the upright stakes are placed in a circle, and not in a straight line. In order to keep the wind from blowing too freely into their huts, the Kaffirs make screens, which are placed so as to shelter the entrance. These screens are made of sticks and rushes such as the door is made of, only of lighter materials, and their position can be shifted with every change of wind.

Some of the permanent houses are built with a great amount of care, and occupy at least a month in their construction. In most of them the interior view is much the same, namely, the domed roof, supported by four posts placed in the form of a square, with the fireplace exactly in the centre. The natives will often expend much time and trouble in decorating their permanent mansions, and Mr. Christie tells me that he has seen the very posts thickly encrusted with beads. Of course they soon become blackened by the smoke, but a quick rub of the palm of the hand brings out the colors anew. One of Dingan’s huts, which was visited by Retief, the Dutch colonist, was most beautifully built, and supported by twenty-two pillars, each of which was entirely covered with beads.

The huts are, from the nature of the material of which they are made, exceedingly inflammable, and it sometimes happens that if one of the houses of a village take fire, the whole of them are consumed in a very short time. Fortunately, they are so easily built that the inconvenience is not nearly so great as is the case when European houses are burned. Moreover, the furniture which they contain is so limited in quantity and so simple in material, that it can be replaced without much difficulty. A mat or two, a few baskets, a pillow, a milking pail, one or two rude earthenware pots, and a bundle of assagais, constitute an amount of property which is not to be found in every hut.

The huts of the Kaffirs are generally gathered together into little groups, which are popularly called “kraals.” This is not a Zulu or a Hottentot word, and is probably a corruption of the word “corral.” There are two modes of forming a kraal, and the particular mode is determined by the locality. The Kaffir tribes generally like to place their kraal on the side of a hill in the vicinity of the bush, in order that they may obtain plenty of building material. They are, however, sufficiently acquainted with the principles of fortification to clear a large space around their dwellings, so that, in case they should be attacked, the enemy cannot conceal his movements from the defenders.

The first care of a Kaffir is to protect his beloved cows, and for that purpose a circular space is enclosed with a high fence, made very strongly. The fence is about six or seven feet in height, and is made in a simple and very effective manner. The fence which surrounds the cattle and the huts is mostly made in one of two modes—at all events, in the more southern part of the country, where timber is exceedingly plentiful. The tribes on the north of Kaffirland, who live where timber is comparatively scarce, build their walls of large stones piled on one another, without any mortar, or even mud, to fill up the interstices. The southern tribes use nothing but wood, and form the walls by two different methods. That which is commonly employed is very simple. A number of trees are felled, and their trunks severed a few feet below the spot whence the branches spring. A great number of these tree tops are then arranged in a circle, the severed ends of the stems being inward, and the branches pointing outward. In fact, the fence is exactly that species of rapid and effective fortification called, in military language, an “abattis.” If the branches of a tree are very large, they can be laid singly on the ground, just as if they were the entire heads of trees.

In some cases, where the kraal is more carefully built, the fence is formed of stout poles, which are driven into the ground, in a double row, some three feet apart, and are then lashed together in such a way that their tops cross each other. In consequence of this arrangement, the fence stands very firmly on its broad basis, while the crossing and projecting tops of the poles form a chevaux de frise as effectual as any that is made by the European soldier. If the enemy try to climb the fence, they can be wounded by spears thrust at them from the interior; and if they succeed in reaching the top, the sharp tips of the poles are ready to embarrass them.

The entrance to this enclosure is just wide enough to allow a cow to pass; and in some places, where the neighborhood is insecure, it is so narrow that there hardly seems to be space enough for the cattle to pass in and out. Each night it is carefully closed with poles and sticks, which are kept just within the entrance, so as to be ready to hand when wanted. Opposite to the entrance, and at the further extremity, a small enclosure, also with circular walls, is built. In this pen the larger calves are kept, the younger being inmates of the huts, together with the human inhabitants. By the side of this enclosure a little gap is left in the fence, just large enough for a man to squeeze himself through, and not large enough to allow even a calf to pass. This little aperture is the chief’s private door, and intended for the purpose of saving time, as otherwise, if the chief were inspecting his cattle, and wished to go to his own hut, he would be obliged to walk all round the fence. The Zulu name for the space within this fence is “isi-baya.”

Around the isi-baya are set the huts which constitute the kraal. Their number is exceedingly variable, but the general average is from ten to fourteen. Those which are placed at either side of the entrance to the isi-baya are devoted to the servants, while that which is exactly opposite to it is the habitation of the chief man. There are mostly a great many kraals belonging to one tribe, and it often happens that several neighboring kraals are all tenanted by the members of one family and their dependants. For example, when the son of a chief attains sufficient consequence to possess several wives and a herd of cattle, he finds that the paternal kraal is not large enough to afford to each wife the separate hut to which she is entitled; so he migrates with his family to a short distance, and there builds a kraal for himself, sometimes so close to that of his father that he connects them by means of a short fenced passage. The chief hut may easily be known, not only by its position, but by its larger dimensions. Some of the other huts are occupied by married men, some by his wives, some by his servants; while at least one hut is reserved for the use of the unmarried men, or “boys,” as they are called.

This is all that is needed to complete a kraal, i. e. the circular isi-baya, and the huts round it. But, in situations where plenty of wood can be found, the Kaffir architect erects a second fence, which encloses all the huts, as well as the isi-baya, and has its entrance in exactly the same position, i. e. opposite to the chief’s hut. The distant view of one of these doubly-fenced kraals, when it happens to be situated on the slope of a hill, is extremely curious, and would scarcely give a stranger an idea of a village.

It will be seen in an engraving opposite, that the central portion of the kraal is given to the isi-baya, and that the Kaffirs devote all their energies toward preserving their cows, while they seem to look with comparative indifference on the risk of exposing themselves or their fragile huts to the inroads of the enemy. As has already been stated, the size of the kraal varies with the wealth and rank of its chief man, and, owing to its mode of construction, can be gradually enlarged as he rises to higher dignities and the possession of more cattle. In shape, however, and the principle of construction, kraals are alike, that of the king himself and the newly-made kraal of a younger son being exactly the same in these respects.

The king’s kraals, however, are of enormous dimensions, and are several in number. Panda, for example, has one kraal, the central enclosure of which is nearly a mile in diameter. This enclosure is supposed to be filled with the monarch’s cows, and is consequently called by the name of isi-baya. Practically, however, the cattle are kept in smaller enclosures, arranged along the sides of the isi-baya, where they can be watched by those who have the charge of them, and whose huts are placed conveniently for that purpose. The vast central enclosure is used almost exclusively as a parade ground, where the king can review his troops, and where they are taught to go through the simple manœuvres of Kaffir warfare. Here, also, he may be seen in council, the isi-baya being able, to accommodate an unlimited number of suitors.

Around the isi-baya are arranged the huts of the warriors and their families, and are placed in four or even five-fold ranks; so that the kraal almost rises to the dignity of a town, having several thousand inhabitants, and presenting a singularly imposing appearance when viewed at a distance. At the upper portion of the kraal, and at the further end from the principal entrance, are the huts specially erected for the king, surrounded by the other huts containing his harem. The whole of this part of the kraal is separated from the remainder by lofty and strong fences, and its doors are kept by sentinels especially set aside for this purpose. In some cases, the warriors to whom this important duty is confided are not permitted to wear clothes of any kind, and are compelled to pass the whole of the time, day and night, when on guard, without even a kaross to cover them. This rule lies rather heavily upon them in the winter nights, when the cold is often severe, and the wind sweeps chillily around the fence of the isi-baya.

However, the young ladies will sometimes contrive to evade the vigilance of the sentries, when their attention is otherwise engaged, as is amusingly shown in a few remarks by Mr. Angas. He had gone by Panda’s invitation to see him at one of his great kraals:—“Last night we slept at the new military kraal, or garrison town, of Indabakaumbi, whither the king had sent word by message that he would be waiting to receive us. The Inkosikasi, or queen, of the kraal sent us a small quantity of thick milk and a jar of millet, and soon afterward made her appearance, holding two of the king’s children by the hand, for whom she requested a present of beads. The children were remarkably pretty, nicely oiled, and tastefully decorated with girdles of blue and scarlet beads. The old lady, on the contrary, was so alarmingly stout, that it seemed almost impossible for her to walk; and that it required some considerable time for her to regain the harem at the upper end of the kraal was made manifest by some fifty of the king’s girls effecting their escape from the rear of the seraglio, and sallying down the slope to stare at us as we rode away from the kraal. The agility of the young ladies, as they sprang from rock to rock, convinced us that they would be all quietly sitting in the harem, as though nothing had happened, long before the Inkosikasi gained her dwelling.”

At that time Panda had thirteen of these great military kraals, each serving as the military capital of a district, and he had just completed a fourteenth. He takes up his residence in these kraals successively, and finds in each everything that he can possibly want—each being, indeed, almost identical in every respect with all the others. As a general rule, each of these military kraals forms the residence of a single regiment; while the king has many others, which are devoted to more peaceful objects.

It has already been mentioned that the women live in a portion separated from the rest of the kraal, and it may almost be said that they reside in a small supplementary kraal, which communicates by gates with the chief edifice. As the gates are strongly barred at night, it is necessary that the sentinel should enter the sacred precincts of the harem, for the purpose of closing them at night, and opening them in the morning. For this purpose, certain individuals of the sentinels are told off, and to them alone is the delicate duty confided. The Kaffir despot does not employ for this purpose the unfortunate individuals who guard the harems in Turkey, Persia, and even in Western Africa. But the king takes care to select men who are particularly ill-favored; and if any of them should happen to be deformed, he is sure to be chosen as a janitor. Mr. Shooter’s servant, when talking with his master on the subject, mentioned several individuals who would make excellent janitors. One of them had a club-foot, another had a very protuberant chest, while a third had bad eyes, and was altogether so ugly that he would never succeed in procuring a wife. The matrimonial adventures of this man will be narrated in a future page. His uniform failures in procuring a legitimate wife were exceedingly ludicrous and mortifying, and quite justified the opinion expressed by his companion.