THE STAFF OF LIFE IN KAFFIRLAND — HOW A DINNER IS COOKED — BOILING AND GRINDING CORN — THE KAFFIR MILL, AND MODE OF USING IT — FAIR DIVISION OF LABOR — A KAFFIR DINNER-PARTY — SINGING IN CHORUS — ACCOUNT OF A KAFFIR MEETING AND WAR-SONG — HISTORY OF THE WAR-SONG, AND ITS VARIOUS POINTS EXPLAINED — TCHAKA’s WAR-SONG — SONG IN HONOR OF PANDA — HOW PORRIDGE IS EATEN — VARIOUS SPOONS MADE BY THE NATIVES — A USEFUL COMBINATION OF SPOON AND SNUFF-BOX — THE GIRAFFE SPOON — HOW THE COLORING IS MANAGED — PECULIAR ANGLE OF THE BOWL AND REASONS FOR IT — KAFFIR ETIQUETTE IN DINING — INNATE LOVE OF JUSTICE — GIGANTIC SPOON — KAFFIR LADLES — LOCUSTS EATEN BY KAFFIRS — THE INSECT IN ITS DIFFERENT STAGES — THE LOCUST ARMIES AND THEIR NUMBERS — DESTRUCTIVENESS OF THE INSECT — DESCRIPTION OF A FLIGHT OF LOCUSTS — EFFECT OF WIND ON THE LOCUSTS — HOW THE INSECTS ARE CAUGHT, COOKED, AND STORED — GENERAL QUALITY OF THE MEAT OBTAINED IN KAFFIRLAND — JERKED MEAT, AND MODE OF COOKING IT — THE HUNGER-BELT AND ITS USES — EATING SHIELD — CEREMONIES IN EATING BEEF — VARIOUS DRINKS USED BY THE KAFFIR — HOW HE DRINKS WATER FROM THE RIVER — INTOXICATING DRINKS OF DIFFERENT COUNTRIES — HOW BEER IS BREWED IN SOUTHERN AFRICA — MAKING MAIZE INTO MALT — FERMENTATION, SKIMMING, AND STRAINING — QUANTITY OF BEER DRUNK BY A KAFFIR — VESSELS IN WHICH BEER IS CONTAINED — BEER-BASKETS — BASKET STORE-HOUSES — THE KAFFIR’S LOVE FOR HONEY — HOW HE FINDS THE BEES’ NESTS — THE HONEY-GUIDE AND THE HONEY-RATEL — POISONOUS HONEY — POULTRY AND EGGS — FORBIDDEN MEATS — THE KAFFIR AND THE CROCODILE.

We have now seen how the Kaffirs obtain the staple of their animal food by the cattle-pen and hunting-field, and how they procure vegetable food by cultivating the soil. We will next proceed to the various kinds of food used by the Kaffirs, and to the method by which they cook it. Man, according to a familiar saying, has been defined as par excellence the cooking animal, and we shall always find that the various modes used in preparing food are equally characteristic and interesting.

The staff of life to a Kaffir is grain, whether maize or millet, reduced to a pulp by careful grinding, and bearing some resemblance to the oatmeal porridge of Scotland. When a woman has to cook a dinner for her husband, she goes to one of the grain stores, and takes out a sufficient quantity of either maize or millet, the former being called umbila, and the latter amabele. The great cooking pot is now brought to the circular fireplace, and set on three large stones, so as to allow the fire to burn beneath it. Water and maize are now put into the pot, the cover is luted down, as has already been mentioned, and the fire lighted. The cooking pot is made of clay, which is generally procured by pounding the materials of an ant-hill and kneading it thoroughly with water.

Her next proceeding is to get her mill ready. This is a very rude apparatus, and requires an enormous amount of labor to produce a comparatively small effect. It consists of two parts, namely, the upper and lower millstones, or the bed and the stone. The bed is a large, heavy stone, which has been flat on the upper surface, but which has been slightly hollowed and sloped. The stone is oval in shape, and about eight or nine inches in length, and is, in fact, that kind of stone which is popularly known under the name of “cobble.”

When the corn is sufficiently boiled, and the woman is ready to grind it, she takes it from the pot, and places it on the stone, under which she has spread a mat. She then kneels at the mill, takes the stone in both hands, and with a peculiar rocking and grinding motion reduces it to a tolerably consistent paste. As fast as it is ground, it is forced down the sloping side of the stone, upon a skin which is ready to receive it. This form of mill is perhaps the earliest with which we are acquainted, and it may be found in many parts of the world. In Mexico, for example, the ordinary mill is made on precisely the same principle, though the lower stone is rudely carved so as to stand on three legs.

It is more than probable that the operation of grinding corn, which is so often mentioned in the earlier Scriptures, was performed in just such a mill as the Kaffir woman uses. The labor of grinding the corn is very severe, the whole weight of the body being thrown on the stone, and the hands being fully occupied in rolling and rocking the upper stone upon the lower. Moreover, the labor has to be repeated daily, and oftentimes the poor hard-worked woman is obliged to resume it several times in the day. Only sufficient corn is ground for the consumption of a single meal; and therefore, so often as the men are hungry, so often has she to grind corn for them.

The boiled and ground corn takes a new name, and is now termed “isicaba;” and when a sufficient quantity has been ground, the woman takes it from the mat, puts it into a basket, and brings it to her husband, who is probably asleep or smoking his pipe. She then brings him a bowl, some clotted milk, and his favorite spoon, and leaves him to mix it for himself and take his meal, she not expecting to partake with him, any more than she would expect him to help her in grinding the corn.

As the Kaffir is eminently a social being, he likes to takes his meals in company, and does so in a very orderly fashion.

When a number of Kaffirs meet for a social meal, they seat themselves round the fire, squatted in their usual manner, and always forming themselves into a circle, Kaffir fashion. If they should be very numerous, they will form two or more concentric circles, all close to each other, and all facing inward. The pot is then put on to boil, and while the “mealies,” or heads of maize, are being cooked, they all strike up songs, and sing them until the feast is ready. Sometimes they prefer love songs, and are always fond of songs that celebrate the possession of cattle. These melodies have a chorus that is perfectly meaningless, like the choruses of many of our own popular songs, but the singers become quite infatuated with them. In a well known cattle song, the burden of which is E-e-e-yu-yu-yu, they all accompany the words with gestures. Their hands are clenched, with the palms turned upward; their arms bent, and at each E-e-e they drive their arms out to their full extent; and at each repetition of the syllable “yu,” they bring their elbows against their sides, so as to give additional emphasis to the song. An illustration on page 145, represents such a scene, and is drawn from a sketch by Captain Drayson, R. A., who has frequently been present in such scenes, and learned to take his part in the wild chorus. As to the smoke of the fire, the Kaffirs care nothing for it, although no European singer would be able to utter two notes in such a choking atmosphere, or to see what he was doing in a small hut without window or chimney, and filled with wood smoke. Some snuff gourds are seen on the ground, and on the left hand, just behind a pillar, is the Induna, or head of the kraal, who is the founder of the feast.

The number of Kaffirs that will crowd themselves into a single small hut is almost incredible. Even in the illustration they seem to be tolerably close together, but the fact is, that the artist was obliged to omit a considerable number of individuals in order to give a partial view of the fireplace and the various utensils.

One African traveller gives a very amusing account of a scene similar to that which is depicted in the engraving. In the evening he heard a most singular noise of many voices rising and falling in regular rhythm, and found it to proceed from an edifice which he had taken for a haycock, but which proved to be a Kaffir hut. He put his head into the door, but the atmosphere was almost too much for him, and he could only see a few dying embers, throwing a ruddy glow over a number of Kaffirs squatting round the fireplace, and singing with their usual gesticulations. He estimated their number at ten, thinking that the hut could not possibly hold, much less accommodate, more than that number. However, from that very hut issued thirty-five tall and powerful Kaffirs, and they did not look in the least hot or uncomfortable. The song which they were singing with such energy was upon one of the only two subjects which seem to inspire a Kaffir’s muse, namely, war and cattle. This particular composition treated of the latter subject, and began with “All the calves are drinking water.”

A very graphic account of the method in which the Kaffirs sing in concert is given by Mr. Mason, who seems to have written his description immediately after witnessing the scene, and while the impression was still strong on his mind:—

“By the light of a small oil lamp I was completing my English journal, ready for the mail which sailed next day; and, while thus busily employed, time stole away so softly that it was late ere I closed and sealed it up. A fearful shout now burst from the recesses of the surrounding jungle, apparently within a hundred yards of our tent; in a moment all was still again, and then the yell broke out with increased vigor, till it dinned in our ears, and made the very air shake and vibrate with the clamor. At first we were alarmed, and looked to the priming of our pistols; but, as the sounds approached no nearer, I concluded that it must be part of some Kaffir festival, and determined on ascertaining its meaning; so, putting by the pistol, I started, just as I was, without coat, hat, or waistcoat, and made my way through the dripping boughs of the jungle, toward the spot from whence the strange sounds proceeded.

“By this time the storm had quite abated; the heavy clouds were rolling slowly from over the rising moon; the drops from the lofty trees fell heavily on the dense bush below; thousands of insects were chirping merrily; and there, louder than all the rest, was the regular rise and fall of some score of Kaffirs. I had already penetrated three hundred yards or more into the bush, when I discovered a large and newly erected Kaffir hut, with a huge fire blazing in its centre, just visible through the dense smoke that poured forth from the little semicircular aperture which served for a doorway. These huts of the Kaffirs are formed of trellis-work, and thatched; in appearance they resemble a well rounded haycock, being, generally, eight or ten feet high at the vertex, circular in form, and from twenty to twenty-five feet broad, with an opening like that of a beehive for a doorway, as before described.

“But, as it was near midnight, it seemed to me that my visit might not be altogether seasonable. However, to have turned back when so near the doorway might have brought an assagai after me, since the occupants of the hut would have attributed a rustling of the bushes, at that late hour, to the presence of a thief or wild beast. I therefore coughed aloud, stooped down, and thrust my head into the open doorway, where a most interesting sight presented itself.

“Fancy three rows of jet-black Kaffirs, ranged in circles around the interior of the hut, sitting knees and nose altogether, waving their well oiled, strongly built frames backward and forward, to keep time in their favorite ‘Dingan’s war-song;’ throwing their arms about, and brandishing the glittering assagai, singing and shouting, uttering a shrill piercing whistle, beating the ground to imitate the heavy tramp of marching men, and making the very woods echo again with their boisterous merriment.

“My presence was unobserved for a moment, until an old gray-headed Kaffir (an Umdodie) pointed his finger toward me. In an instant, the whole phalanx of glaring eyes was turned to the doorway; and silence reigned throughout the demoniac-looking group. A simultaneous exclamation of ‘Molonga! Molonga!’ (white man! white man!) was succeeded by an universal beckon for me to come in and take a place in the ring. This of course I complied with; and, having seen me comfortably seated, they fell to work again more vociferously than ever, till I was well near bewildered with the din, and stifled with the dense smoke issuing from the huge fire in the centre of the ring.”

Dingan’s war-song, which is here mentioned, is rather made in praise of Dingan’s warlike exploits. To a Kaffir, who understands all the allusions made by the poet, it is a marvellously exciting composition, though it loses its chief beauties when translated into a foreign language, and deprived of the peculiar musical rhythm and alliteration which form the great charms of Kaffir poetry. The song was as follows:—

If the reader will refer to the song in honor of Panda, which is given on page 90, he will see the strong resemblance that exists between the two odes, each narrating some events of the hero’s early life, then diverging into a boast of his great wealth, and ending with a list of his warlike achievements.

Mr. Shooter mentions a second song which was made in honor of Tchaka, as, indeed, he was told by that renowned chief himself. It was composed after that warlike despot had made himself master of the whole of Kaffirland, and the reader will not fail to notice the remarkable resemblance between the burden of the song, “Where will you go out to battle now?” and the lament of Alexander, that there were no more worlds to conquer.

I have already mentioned that in eating his porridge the Kaffir uses a spoon. He takes a wonderful pride in his spoon, and expends more trouble upon it than upon any other article which he possesses, not even his “tails,” pipes, or snuff box, being thought worthy of so much labor as is lavished upon his spoons. Although there is a great variety of patterns among the spoons manufactured by the Kaffir tribes, there is a character about them which is quite unmistakable, and which points out the country of the maker as clearly as if his name were written on it. The bowl, for example, instead of being almost in the same line with the stem, is bent forward at a slight angle, and, instead of being rather deep, is quite shallow. It is almost incapable of containing liquids, and is only adapted for conveying to the mouth the thick porridge which has already been described. Several of these spoons are represented on page 103, drawn from specimens in my collection.

Fig. 1 is a spoon rather more than two feet in length, cut from a stout branch of a tree, as is shown by the radiating circles, denoting the successive annual deposits of woody fibre. The little dark mark in the bowl shows the pithy centre of the branch. The end of the handle is made to represent the head of an assagai, and the peculiar convexity and concavity of that weapon is represented by staining one side of the blade black. This staining process is very simply managed by heating a piece of iron or a stone, and charring the wood with it, so as to make an indelible black mark. Part of the under side of the bowl is stained black in a similar manner, and so is a portion of the handle, this expeditious and easy mode of decoration being in great favor among the Kaffirs, when they are making any article of wood. The heads of the wooden assagais shown on page 103 are stained in the same fashion. According to English ideas, the bowl is of unpleasantly large dimensions, being three inches and a quarter in width. But a Kaffir mouth is a capacious one, and he can use this gigantic instrument without inconvenience.

Fig. 2 represents a singularly elaborate example of a spoon, purchased from a native by the late H. Jackson, Esq. It is more than three feet in length and is slightly curved, whereas the preceding example is straight. The wood of which it is made is much harder than that of the other spoon, and is therefore capable of taking a tolerably high polish. The maker of this spoon has ornamented it in a very curious manner. Five rings are placed round the stem, and these rings are made of the wire-like hairs from the elephant’s tail. They are plaited in the manner that is known to sailors as the “Turk’s-head” knot, and are similar to those that have been mentioned on page 101 as being placed on the handle of the assagai. In order to show the mode in which these rings are made, one of them is given on an enlarged scale.

At the end of the handle of the spoon may be seen a globular knob. This is carved from the same piece of wood as the spoon, and is intended for a snuff box, so that the owner is doubly supplied with luxuries. It is cut in order to imitate a gourd, and, considering the very rude tools which a Kaffir possesses, the skill displayed in hollowing it is very great. Round the neck of the opening is one of the elephant’s hair rings, and at the bottom there is some rather deep carving. This odd snuff box is ornamented by being charred, as is the bowl and the greater part of the stem.

Sometimes the Kaffirs exert great ingenuity in carving the handles of their spoons into rude semblances of various animals. On account of its long neck and legs and sloping back, the giraffe is the favorite. Fig. 1 on page 103 shows one of these spoons. It is rather more than a foot in length, and represents the form of the animal better than might be supposed from the illustration, which is taken from the front, and therefore causes its form to be foreshortened and the characteristic slope of the back to be unseen. It is made of the acacia wood, that being the tree on which the giraffe loves to feed, and which is called by the Dutch settlers “Kameel-dorn,” or camel-thorn, in consequence. The peculiar attitude of the head is a faithful representation of the action of the giraffe when raising its head to browse among the foliage, and the spotted skin is well imitated by application of a red-hot iron.

In some examples of the giraffe spoon, the form of the animal is much better shown, even the joints of the legs being carefully marked, and their action indicated. Sometimes the Kaffir does not make the whole handle into the form of an animal, but cuts the handle of the usual shape, and leaves at the end a large block of solid wood, which he can carve into the required shape. The hippopotamus is frequently chosen for this purpose, and so is the rhinoceros, while the hyæna is always a favorite, apparently because its peculiar outline can easily be imitated in wood.

The reader will probably have noticed the angle at which the shallow bowl is set, and it appears to make the spoon a most inconvenient instrument. If held after the European fashion, the user would scarcely be able to manage it at all, but the Kaffir has his own way of holding it, which is perfectly effective. Instead of taking it between the thumb and the forefinger, he grasps the stem with the whole hand, having the bowl to the left, and the handle to the right. He then dips the shallow bowl into the tenacious porridge, takes up as much as it will possibly hold, and inserts the whole of the bowl into his mouth, the convex side being uppermost. In this position the tongue can lick the spoon quite clean, so as to be ready for the next visit to the porridge.

If a number of Kaffirs are about to partake of a common meal, they always use a common spoon. Were each man to bring his own with him, and all to dip in the pot at once, it is evident that he who had the largest spoon, would get the largest share, than which nothing would be more distasteful to the justice loving Kaffir, besides giving rise to a scene of hurry, and probably contention, which would be a breach of good manners. So the chief man present takes the spoon, helps himself to a mouthful, and hands the clean spoon to his next neighbor. Thus the spoon goes round in regular order, each man having one spoonful at a time, and none having more than another.

This love of justice pervades all classes of Kaffirs, and even adheres to them when they are partially civilized—a result which does not always take place when the savage has taken his first few lessons in the civilization of Europe. Some time ago, when a visitor was inspecting an English school for Kaffir children, he was struck by the method adopted in giving the scholars their meals. Porridge was prepared for them, and served out by one of their own nation, who used the most scrupulous accuracy in dividing the food. She was not content with giving to each child an apparently equal share, but went twice or thrice round the circle, adding to one portion and taking away from another, until all were equally served. Not until she was satisfied that the distribution was a just one, did the dusky scholars think of beginning their meal.

Sometimes the Kaffirs will amuse themselves by making spoons of the most portentous dimensions, which would baffle even the giants of our nursery tales, did they endeavor to use such implements. One of these gigantic spoons is in the collection of Colonel Lane Fox. It is shaped much like fig. 1, in the illustration at page 103, and if very much reduced in size would be a serviceable Kaffir spoon of the ordinary kind. But it is between five and six feet in length, its stem is as thick as a man’s arm, and its bowl large enough to accommodate his whole head.

At fig. 2 of the illustration on the upper part of same page may be seen an article which looks like a spoon, but rather deserves the name of ladle, as it is used for substances more liquid than the porridge. It is carved from a single piece of wood, and it is a singular fact that the maker should have been able to carve the deeply grooved handle without the aid of a lathe. If this handle be turned round on its axis, so that the eye can follow the spiral course of the grooves, it becomes evident that they have been cut without the use of any machinery. But the truth of their course is really wonderful, and the carver of this handsome handle has taken care to darken the spiral grooves by the application of a hot iron. This remarkable specimen was brought from Africa by the Rev. J. Shooter, and the illustration has been taken from the specimen itself.

Two more similar ladles are illustrated on page 155. The uppermost figure represents a ladle about fourteen inches in length. The pattern has no pretence to elaborate detail; but the whole form is very bold and decided, and the carver has evidently done his work thoroughly, and on a definite plan. The black marks on the stem and handle are made by a hot iron, and the under surface of the bowl is decorated with two triangular marks made in the same manner.

At figure 2 of the same illustration is shown a rather remarkable ladle. It is eighteen inches in length, and the bowl is both wide and deep. It is made from the hard wood of the acacia, and must have cost the carver a considerable amount of trouble. In carving the ladle, the maker has set himself to shape the handle in such a manner that it resembles a bundle of small sticks tied together by a band at the end and another near the middle. So well has he achieved this feat that, when I first saw this ladle, in rather dim light, I really thought that some ingenious artificer had contrived to make a number of twigs start from one part of a branch, and had carved that portion of the branch into the bowl, and had tied the twigs together to form the handle. He has heightened the deception, by charring the sham bands black, while the rest of the handle is left of its natural color. Figs. 3 and 4 of the same illustration will be presently described.

There is an article of food which is used by the natives, in its proper season, and does not prepossess a European in its favor. This is the locust, the well-known insect which sweeps in countless myriads over the land, and which does such harm to the crops and to everything that grows. The eggs of the locust are laid in the ground, and at the proper season the young make their appearance. They are then very small, but they grow with great rapidity—as, indeed, they ought to do, considering the amount of food which they consume. Until they have passed a considerable time in the world, they have no wings, and can only crawl and hop. The Kaffirs call these imperfect locusts “boyane,” and the Dutch settlers term them “voetgangers,” or “foot-goers,” because they cannot fly. Even in this stage they are terribly destructive, and march steadily onward consuming every green thing that they can eat.

Nothing stops them in their progress short of death, and, on account of their vast myriads, the numbers that can be killed form but an insignificant proportion of the whole army. A stream of these insects, a mile or more in width, will pass over a country, and scarcely anything short of a river will stop them. Trenches are soon filled up with their bodies, and those in the rear march over the carcasses of their dead comrades. Sometimes the trenches have been filled with fire, but to no purpose, as the fire is soon put out by the locusts that come crowding upon it. As for walls, the insects care nothing for them, but surmount them, and even the very houses, without suffering a check.

When they become perfect insects and gain their wings, they proceed, as before, in vast myriads; but this time, they direct their course through the air, and not merely on land, so that not even the broadest river can stop them. They generally start as soon as the sun has dispelled the dews and warmed the air, which, in its nightly chill, paralyzes them, and renders them incapable of flight and almost unable even to walk. Toward evening they always descend, and perhaps in the daytime also; and wherever they alight, every green thing vanishes. The sound of their jaws cutting down the leaves and eating them can be heard at a great distance. They eat everything of a vegetable nature. Mr. Moffatt saw a whole field of maize consumed in two hours, and has seen them eat linen, flannel, and even tobacco. When they rise for another flight, the spot which they have left is as bare as if it were desert land, and not a vestige of any kind of verdure is to be seen upon it.

A very excellent description of a flight of locusts is given by Mr. Cole, in his work on South Africa:—

“Next day was warm enough, but the wind was desperately high, and, much to my disgust, right in my face as I rode away on my journey. After travelling some ten miles, having swallowed several ounces of sand meanwhile, and been compelled occasionally to remove the sand-hills that were collecting in my eyes, I began to fall in with some locusts. At first they came on gradually and in small quantities, speckling the earth here and there, and voraciously devouring the herbage.

“They were not altogether pleasant, as they are weak on the wing, and quite at the mercy of the wind, which uncivilly dashed many a one into my face with a force that made my cheeks tingle. By degrees they grew thicker and more frequent. My progress was now most unpleasant, for they flew into my face every instant. Flung against me and my horse by the breeze, they clung to us with the tightness of desperation, till we were literally speckled with locusts. Each moment the clouds of them became denser, till at length—I am guilty of no exaggeration in saying—they were as thick in the air as the flakes of snow during a heavy fall of it; they covered the grass and the road, so that at every step my horse crushed dozens; they were whirled into my eyes and those of my poor nag, till at last the latter refused to face them, and turned tail in spite of whip and spur. They crawled about my face and neck, got down my shirt collar and up my sleeves—in a word they drove me to despair as completely as they drove my horse to stubbornness, and I was obliged to ride back a mile or two, and claim shelter from them at a house I had passed on my route; fully convinced that a shower of locusts is more unbearable than hail, rain, snow, and sleet combined. I found the poor farmer in despair at the dreadful visitation which had come upon him—and well he might be so. To-day he had standing crops, a garden, and wide pasture lands in full verdure; the next day the earth was as bare all round as a macadamized road.

“I afterwards saw millions of these insects driven by the wind into the sea at Algoa Bay, and washed on shore again in such heaps, that the prisoners and coolies in the town were busily employed for a day or two in burying the bodies, to prevent the evil consequence that would arise from the putrefying of them close to the town. No description of these little plagues, or of the destruction they cause, can well be an exaggeration. Fortunately, their visitations are not frequent, as I only remember three during my five years’ residence in South Africa. Huge fires are sometimes lighted round corn-lands and gardens to prevent their approach; and this is an effective preventive when they can steer their own course; but when carried away by such a wind as I have described, they can only go where it drives them, and all the bonfires in the world would be useless to stay their progress. The farmer thus eaten out of house and home (most literally) has nothing to do but to move his stock forthwith to some other spot which has escaped them—happy if he can find a route free from their devastation, so that his herds and flocks may not perish by the way.”

Fortunately, their bodies being heavy in proportion to their wings, they cannot fly against the wind, and it often happens that, as in the old Scripture narrative, a country is relieved by a change of wind, which drives the insects into the sea, where they are drowned; and, as Mr. Cole observes, they were driven by the wind into his face or upon his clothes, as helplessly as the cockchafers on a windy summer evening. Still, terrible as are the locusts, they have their uses. In the first place, they afford food to innumerable animals. As they fly, large flocks of birds wait on them, sweep among them and devour them on the wing. While they are on the ground, whether in their winged or imperfect state, they are eaten by various animals; even the lion and other formidable carnivora not disdaining so easily gained a repast. As the cool air of the night renders the locusts incapable of moving, they can be captured without difficulty. Even to mankind the locusts are serviceable, being a favorite article of food. It is true that these insects devour whole crops, but it may be doubted whether they do not confer a benefit on the dusky cultivators rather than inflict an injury.

As soon as the shades of evening render the locusts helpless, the natives turn out in a body, with sacks, skins, and everything that can hold the expected prey, those who possess such animals bringing pack oxen in order to bear the loads home. The locusts are swept by millions into the sacks, without any particular exertion on the part of the natives, though not without some danger, as venomous serpents are apt to come for the purpose of feeding on the insects, and are sometimes roughly handled in the darkness.

When the locusts have been brought home, they are put into a large covered pot, such as has already been described, and a little water added to them. The fire is then lighted under the pot, and the locusts are then boiled, or rather steamed, until they are sufficiently cooked. They are then taken out of the pot, and spread out in the sunbeams until they are quite dry; and when this part of the process is completed, they are shaken about in the wind until the legs and wings fall off, and are carried away just as the chaff is carried away by the breeze when corn is winnowed. When they are perfectly dry, they are stored away in baskets, or placed in the granaries just as if they were corn.

Sometimes the natives eat them whole, just as we eat shrimps, and, if they can afford such a luxury, add a little salt to them. Usually, however, the locusts are treated much in the same manner as corn or maize. They are ground to powder by the mill until they are reduced to meal, which is then mixed with water, so as to form a kind of porridge. A good locust season is always acceptable to the natives, who can indulge their enormous appetites to an almost unlimited extent, and in consequence become quite fat in comparison with their ordinary appearance. So valuable, indeed, are the locusts, that if a native conjurer can make his companions believe that his incantations have brought the locusts, he is sure to be richly rewarded by them.

Meat, when it can be obtained, is the great luxury of a Kaffir. Beef is his favorite meat; but he will eat that of many of the native animals, though there are some, including all kinds of fish, which he will not touch. With a very few exceptions, such as the eland, the wild animals of Southern Africa do not furnish very succulent food. Venison when taken from a semi-domesticated red deer, or a three-parts domesticated fallow deer, is a very different meat when obtained from a wild deer or antelope. As a general rule, such animals have very little fat about them, and their flesh, by reason of constant exercise and small supply of food, is exceedingly tough, and would baffle the jaws of any but a very hungry man.

Fortunately for the Kaffirs, their teeth and jaws are equal to any task that can be imposed upon them in the way of mastication, and meat which an European can hardly manage to eat is a dainty to his dark companions. The late Gordon Cumming, who had as much experience in hunter life as most men, used to say that a very good idea of the meat which is usually obtained by the gun in Kaffirland may be gained by taking the very worst part of the toughest possible beef, multiplying the toughness by ten, and subtracting all the gravy.

The usual plan that is adopted is, to eat at once the best parts of an animal, and to cure the rest by drying it in the sun. This process is a very simple one. The meat is cut into thin, long strips, and hung on branches in the open air. The burning sunbeams soon have their effect, and convert the scarlet strips of raw meat into a substance that looks like old shoe-leather, and is nearly as tough. The mode of dressing it is, to put it under the ashes of the fire, next to pound it between two stones, and then to stew it slowly in a pot, just as is done with fresh beef. Of course, this mode of cooking meat is only employed on the march, when the soldiers are unable to take with them the cooking-pots of domestic life.

Sometimes, especially when returning from an unsuccessful war, the Kaffirs are put to great straits for want of food, and have recourse to the strangest expedients for allaying hunger. They begin by wearing a “hunger-belt,” i. e. a belt passed several times round the body, and arranged so as to press upon the stomach, and take off for a time the feeling of faint sickness that accompanies hunger before it develops into starvation. As the hours pass on, and the faintness again appears, the hunger-belt is drawn tighter and tighter. This curious remedy for hunger is to be found in many parts of the world, and has long been practised by the native tribes of North America.

The hungry soldiers, when reduced to the last straits, have been known to eat their hide-shields, and, when these were finished, to consume even the thongs which bind the head of the assagai to the shaft. The same process of cooking is employed in making the tough skin eatable; namely, partial broiling under ashes, then pounding between stones, and then stewing, or boiling, if any substitute for a cooking-pot can be found. One of the missionaries relates, in a manner that shows the elastic spirit which animated him, how he and his companions were once driven to eat a box which he had made of rhinoceros hide, and seems rather to regret the loss of so excellent a box than to demand any sympathy for the hardships which he had sustained.

We now come to the question of the liquids which a Kaffir generally consumes. Ordinary men are forced to content themselves with water, and there are occasions when they would only be too glad to obtain even water. Certain ceremonies demand that the warriors shall be fed plenteously with beef during the night, but that they shall not be allowed to drink until the dawn of the following day. At the beginning of the feast they are merry enough; for beef is always welcome to a Kaffir, and to be allowed to eat as much as he can possibly manage to accommodate is a luxury which but seldom occurs.

However, the time comes, even to a hungry Kaffir, when he cannot possibly eat any more, and he craves for something to drink. This relief is strictly prohibited, no one being allowed to leave the circle in which they are sitting. It generally happens that some of the younger “boys,” who have been but recently admitted into the company of soldiers, find themselves unable to endure such a privation, and endeavor to slip away unobserved. But a number of old and tried warriors, who have inured themselves to thirst as well as hunger, and who look with contempt on all who are less hardy than themselves, are stationed at every point of exit, and, as soon as they see the dusky form of a deserter approach the spot which they are guarding, they unceremoniously attack him with their sticks, and beat him back to his place in the circle.

On the march, if a Kaffir is hurried, and comes to a spot where there is water, he stoops down, and with his curved hand flings the water into his mouth with movements almost as rapid as those of a cat’s tongue when she laps milk. Sometimes, if he comes to a river, which he has to ford, he will contrive to slake his thirst as he proceeds, without once checking his speed. This precaution is necessary if he should be pursued, or if the river should happen to be partially infested with crocodiles and other dangerous reptiles. (See engraving No. 2 on p. 145.)

Kaffirs are also very fond of a kind of whey, which is poured off from the milk when it is converted into “amasi,” and which is something like our buttermilk to the taste. Still, although the Kaffirs can put up with water, and like their buttermilk, they have a craving for some fermented liquor. Water and buttermilk are very well in their way; but they only serve for quenching thirst, and have nothing sociable about them. Now the Kaffir is essentially a sociable being, as has already been mentioned, and he likes nothing better than sitting in a circle of friends, talking, grinding snuff or taking it, smoking, and drinking. And, when he joins in such indulgences, he prefers that his drink should be of an intoxicating nature, therein following the usual instincts of mankind all over the world.

There are few nations who do not know how to make intoxicating drinks, and the Kaffir is not likely to be much behindhand in this respect. The only fermented drink which the genuine Kaffirs use is a kind of beer, called in the native tongue “outchualla.” Like all other savages, the Kaffirs very much prefer the stronger potations that are made by Europeans; and their love for whisky, rum, and brandy has been the means of ruining, and almost extinguishing, many a tribe—just as has been the case in Northern America. The quantity of spirituous liquid that a Kaffir can drink is really astonishing; and the strangest thing is, that he will consume nearly a bottle of the commonest and coarsest spirit, and rise at daybreak on the next morning without even a headache.

The beer which the Kaffirs make is by no means a heady liquid, and seems to have rather a fattening than an intoxicating quality. All men of note drink large quantities of beer, and the chief of a tribe rarely stirs without having a great vessel of beer at hand, together with his gourd cup and ladle. The operations of brewing are conducted entirely by the women, and are tolerably simple, much resembling the plan which is used in England. Barley is not employed for this purpose, the grain of maize or millet being substituted for it.

The grain is first encouraged to a partial sprouting by being wrapped in wet mats, and is then killed by heat, so as to make it into malt, resembling that which is used in our own country. The next process is to put it into a vessel, and let it boil for some time, and afterward to set it aside for fermentation. The Kaffir has no yeast, but employs a rather curious substitute for it, being the stem of a species of ice-plant, dried and kept ready for use. As the liquid ferments, a scum arises to the top, which is carefully removed by means of an ingenious skimmer, shown at figs. 3 and 4, on page 155. This skimmer is very much like those wire implements used by our cooks for taking vegetables out of hot water, and is made of grass stems very neatly woven together; a number of them forming the handle, and others spreading out like the bowl of a spoon. The bowls of these skimmers are set at different angles, so as to suit the vessel in which fermentation is carried on.

When the beer is poured into the vessel in which it is kept for use, it is passed through a strainer, so as to prevent any of the malt from mixing with it. One of these strainers is shown at fig. 3, on page 67. The specimen from which the drawing was taken is in my own collection, and is a good sample of the Kaffir’s workmanship. It is made of reeds, split and flattened; each reed being rather more than the fifth of an inch wide at the opening and the twelfth of an inch at the smaller end, and being carefully graduated in width. In shape it resembles a jelly-bag, and, indeed, has much the same office to perform. The reeds are woven in the “under three and over three” fashion, so as to produce a zigzag pattern; and the conical shape of the strainer is obtained, not by any alteration in the mode of weaving, but by the gradual diminution of the reeds. These strainers are of various sizes; but my own specimen, which is of the average dimensions, measures fifteen inches in length, and nine in width across the opening.

Beer, like milk, is kept in baskets, which the Kaffirs are capable of making so elaborately, that they can hold almost any liquid as well as if they were casks made by the best European coopers. Indeed, the fineness and beauty of the Kaffir basket-work may excite the admiration, if not the envy, of civilized basket-makers, who, however artistic may be the forms which they produce, would be sadly puzzled if required to make a basket that would hold beer, wine, or even milk.

One of the ordinary forms of beer basket may be seen in the illustration on page 67, the small mouth being for the greater convenience of pouring it out. Others can be seen in the illustration on page 63, representing the interior of a Kaffir hut. Beer baskets of various sizes are to be found in every kraal, and are always kept in shady places, to prevent the liquid from being injured by heat. A Kaffir chief hardly seems to be able to support existence without his beer. Within his own house, or in the shadow of a friendly screen, he will sit by the hour together, smoking his enormous pipe continually, and drinking his beer at tolerably constant intervals, thus contriving to consume a considerable amount both of tobacco and beer. Even if he goes out to inspect his cattle, or to review his soldiers, a servant is sure to be with him, bearing his beer basket, stool, and other luxurious appendages of state.

He generally drinks out of a cup, which he makes from a gourd, and which, in shape and size, much resembles an emu’s egg with the top cut off. For the purpose of taking the beer out of the basket, and pouring it into the cup, he uses a ladle of some sort. The form which is most generally in use is that which is made from a kind of gourd; not egg-shaped, like that from which the cup is made, but formed very much like an onion with the stalk attached to it. The bulb of the onion represents the end of the gourd, and it will be seen that when a slice is cut off this globular end, and the interior of the gourd removed, a very neat ladle can be produced. As the outer skin of the gourd is of a fine yellow color, and has a high natural polish, the cup and ladle have a very pretty appearance.

Sometimes the Kaffir carves his ladles out of wood, and displays much skill and taste in their construction, as may be seen by the specimens. Occasionally the beer bowl is carved from wood as well as the ladle; but, on account of its weight when empty, and the time employed in making it, none but a chief is likely to make use of such a bowl. One of these wooden bowls is shown at fig. 2, in the illustration on page 67, and is drawn from a specimen brought from Southern Africa by Mr. H. Jackson. It is of large dimensions, as may be seen by comparing it with the milkpail at fig. 1. The color of the bowl is black.

It is rather remarkable that the Kaffir who carved this bowl has been so used to baskets as beer vessels that he has not been able to get the idea out of his mind. The bowl is painfully wrought out of a single block of wood, and must have cost an enormous amount of labor, considering the rudeness of the tools used by the carver. According to our ideas, the bowl ought therefore to show that it really is something more valuable than usual, and as unlike the ordinary basket as possible. But so wedded has been the maker to the notion that a basket, and nothing but a basket, is the proper vessel for beer, that he has taken great pains to carve the whole exterior in imitation of a basket. So well and regularly is this decoration done, that when the bowl is set some little distance, or placed in the shade, many persons mistake it for a basket set on three wooden legs, and stained black.

At fig. 5 of the same illustration is an example of the Kaffir’s basket-work. This is one of the baskets used by the women when they have been to the fields, and have to carry home the ears of maize or other produce. This basket is very stout and strong, and will accommodate a quantity of corn which would form a good load for an average English laborer. But she considers this hard work as part of woman’s mission, asks one of her companions to assist in placing it on her head, and goes off with her burden, often lightening the heavy task by joining in a chorus with her similarly-laden friends. Indeed, as has been well said by an experienced missionary, in the normal state of the Kaffir tribes the woman serves every office in husbandry, and herself fulfils the duties of field laborer, plough, cart, ox, and horse.

Basket-work is used for an infinity of purposes. It is of basket-work, for example, that the Kaffir makes his curious and picturesque storehouses, in which he keeps the corn that he is likely to require for household use. These storehouses are always raised some height from the ground, for the double purpose of keeping vermin from devastating them, and of allowing a free passage to the air round them, and so keeping their contents dry and in good condition. Indeed, the very houses are formed of a sort of basket-work, as may be seen by reference to Chapter VII.; and even their kraals, or villages, are little more than basket-work on a very large scale.

Almost any kind of flexible material seems to answer for baskets, and the Kaffir workman impresses into his service not only the twigs of pliant bushes, like the osier and willow, but uses grass stems, grass leaves, rushes, flags, reeds, bark, and similar materials. When he makes those that are used for holding liquids, he always uses fine materials, and closes the spaces between them by beating down each successive row with an instrument that somewhat resembles a very stout paper-knife, and that is made either of wood, bone, or ivory. As is the case with casks, pails, quaighs, and all vessels that are made with staves, the baskets must be well soaked before they become thoroughly water-tight.

One of these baskets is in my own collection. It is most beautifully made, and certainly surpasses vessels of wood or clay in one respect; namely, that it will bear very rough treatment without breaking. The mode of weaving it is peculiarly intricate. A vast amount of grass is employed in its construction, the work is very close, and the ends of the innumerable grass blades are so neatly woven into the fabric as scarcely to be distinguishable. Soon after it came into my possession, I sent it to a conversazione, together with a large number of ethnological curiosities, and, knowing that very few would believe in its powers without actual proof, I filled it with milk, and placed it on the table. Although it had been in England for some time, and had evidently undergone rather rough treatment, it held the milk very well. There was a very slight leakage, caused by a mistake of the former proprietor, who had sewed a label upon it with a very coarse needle, leaving little holes, through which a few drops of milk gradually oozed. With this exception, however, the basket was as serviceable as when it was in use among the Kaffir huts.

Honey is a very favorite food with the Kaffirs, who are expert at attacking the nests, and removing the combs in spite of the attacks of the bees. They detect a bees’ nest in many ways, and, among other plans for finding the nest, they set great value on the bird called the honey-guide. There are several species of honey-guide, two of which are tolerably common in Southern Africa, and all of which belong to the cuckoo family. These birds are remarkable for the trust which they instinctively repose in mankind, and the manner in which they act as guides to the nest. Whenever a Kaffir hears a bird utter a peculiar cry, which has been represented by the word “Cherr! cherr!” he looks out for the singer, and goes in the direction of the voice. The bird, seeing that the man is following, begins to approach the bees’ nest, still uttering its encouraging cry, and not ceasing until the nest is found.

The Kaffirs place great reliance on the bird, and never eat all the honey, but make a point of leaving some for the guide that conducted them to the sweet storehouse. They say that the honey-guide voluntarily seeks the help of man, because it would otherwise be unable to get at the bee-combs, which are made in hollow trees, thus being protected in secure fortresses, which the bird could not penetrate without the assistance of some being stronger than itself. And as the bird chiefly wants the combs which contain the bee-grubs, and the man only wants those which contain honey, the Kaffir leaves all the grub-combs for the bird, and takes all the honey-combs himself; so that both parties are equally pleased. Whether this be the case or not, it is certain that the bird does perform this service to mankind, and that both the Kaffir and the bird seem to understand each other. The honey-ratel, one of the largest species of the weasel tribe, and an animal which is extremely fond of bee-combs, is said to share with mankind the privilege of alliance with the honey-guide, and to requite the aid of the bird with the comb which it tears out of the hollow tree. It is remarkable that both the ratel and the honey-guide are so thickly defended, the one with fur, and the other with feathers, that the stings of the bees cannot penetrate through their natural armor.

It is rather curious, however, that the honey-guide does not invariably lead to the nests of bees. It has an odd habit of guiding the attention of mankind to any animal which may be hiding in the bush, and the wary traveller is always careful to have his weapons ready when he follows the honey-guide, knowing that, although the bird generally leads the way to honey, it has an unpleasant custom of leading to a concealed buffalo, or lion, or panther, or even to a spot where a cobra or other poisonous snake is reposing.

Although honey is much prized by Kaffirs, they exercise much caution in eating it; and before they will trust themselves to taste it, they inspect the neighborhood, with the purpose of seeing whether certain poisonous plants grow in the vicinity, as in that case the honey is sure to be deleterious. The euphorbia is one of these poisonous plants, and belongs to a large order, which is represented in England by certain small plants known by the common denomination of spurge. One of them, commonly called milky-weed, sun-spurge, or wort-spurge, is well known for the white juice which pours plentifully from the wounded stem, and which is used in some places as a means of destroying warts. In our own country the juice is only remarkable for its milky appearance and its hot acrid taste, which abides in the mouth for a wonderfully long time; but in Africa the euphorbias grow to the dimensions of trees, and the juice is used in many parts of that continent as a poison for arrows. Some of them look so like the cactus group that they might be mistaken for those plants; but they are easily known by the milky juice that pours from them when wounded, and by the fact that their thorns, when they have any, grow singly, and not in clusters, like those of the cactus. The white juice furnishes, when evaporated, a highly poisonous drug, called euphorbium.