NOMAD CHARACTER OF THE TRIBE — THEIR GENERAL CHARACTER — DISTINCT FROM THE BOSJESMAN TRIBE — THEIR HORSES AND CATTLE — GOVERNMENT — DRESS OF THE KORANNAS — SINGULAR MODE OF DANCING — DESIRE OF OBTAINING KNOWLEDGE — THE MUSICAL ALPHABET — “AULD LANG SYNE” — TENACIOUS MEMORY OF A YOUNG KORANNA — HIS GROTESQUE APPEARANCE — FONDNESS FOR MEDICINE — THE NAMAQUA TRIBE — CHARACTER OF GREAT NAMAQUA-LAND — VICISSITUDES OF THE CLIMATE — EFFECT ON THE INHABITANTS — AFRICANER, AND HIS HISTORY — DRESS OF THE NAMAQUAS — THEIR IDEAS OF RELIGION — SUPERSTITIONS — STORY OF A NAMAQUA HUNTER AND A BOSJESMAN WOMAN — RAIN-MAKING — HEALING THE SICK — THE DOCTOR’S PANACEA — POLYGAMY AND DIVORCE — CATTLE-TRAINING — CRUELTY TOWARD THE INFIRM AND AGED — ADOPTION OF PARENTS.

In accordance with the plan of this work, we will now glance slightly at a few of the more conspicuous tribes which inhabit Southern Africa from the Cape to that part of the continent which is occupied by the negro races.

Among the offshoots of the Hottentots is a tribe called indifferently Kora, Koraqua, Korans, or Korannas. On account of their nomad habits, it is impossible to fix any particular locality for them, and besides it often happens that they extend their peregrinations into the territories of tribes more adherent to the soil, and for a time are as completely mixed up with them as if they belonged to the same tribe. Owing to their want of civilization, and general manners, some travellers have considered them as a rude tribe of Bosjesmans, but they have been satisfactorily proved to belong to the Hottentots.

They seem to be quiet and well-behaved, and possessed of much curiosity. Burchell relates one or two anecdotes of the latter quality, and gives an amusing description of their astonishment at the sight of a colored drawing which he had made of a yellow fish. One of them had struck one of these fishes, and Burchell had borrowed it in order to make a colored drawing of it. When the owner came to take it back, he happened to glance at the drawing, and was struck dumb with amazement, gazing at it with mouth and eyes wide open. At last he found his tongue, and called his companions to see the new wonder. At the sight of the drawing, they behaved much as a company of monkeys might be supposed to conduct themselves, turning the paper to look at the back of it, feeling it with their fingers, and being quite unable to comprehend how an object could at once be rounded to the eye, and flat to the touch.

Of the general character of the Koranna Hottentots, Dr. Lichtenstein has written so admirable an analysis in so small a compass, that I cannot do better than give his own words:—

“These Korans are the oldest original inhabitants of the country; they are a tolerably numerous race, mild, and well-disposed, speaking almost the same language that was formerly spoken by the Hottentot tribes within the colony, but which has not hitherto been sufficiently known by the Europeans to acquire from it much insight into the ancient customs and habits of the people. They still live, after the manner of their forefathers, in small villages or kraals, in huts of a hemispherical form, and are slothful by nature, so that they are not so successful in breeding cattle—though their country is extremely well adapted to it, as the stronger and more industrious Kaffir tribes. With these, who are their nearest neighbors, they live on very good terms; but a perpetual warfare subsists between them and the Bosjesmans; the latter are hated by them to excess.

“The Korans have hitherto been very erroneously confounded with the Bosjesmans, but they are a totally distinct people, having their principal residence on the banks of the Narb and Vaal rivers, northeast from where we now were, and south of the Bechuana country. They are divided into several tribes, the principal of which are called the Kharemankis and the Khuremankis. In their size and corporeal structure they resemble the Hottentots very much, but the cheek and chin bones are less prominent, and the whole face is more oval than some other of the Hottentot tribes. They have all a kind of voluptuous expression about the mouth, which, united with a peculiar wild roll of the eye, and a rough, broken manner of speaking, give them altogether the appearance of intoxication, nor indeed are they falsified by it, since they are truly a voluptuous race, deficient in bodily strength, and destitute of martial courage.

“Their clothing consists of a mantle of prepared skin, made either from the hides of their cattle, or from those of the antelopes: it is smaller, and of a somewhat different form from that worn by the Bechuanas, and is never made of several small skins sewed together. A favorite mode with them is to scrape figures of various kinds on the hairy side of these mantles. They trade with the Bechuanas for ornaments for the ears, neck, and arms.

“The cattle are held in high estimation by them; they take much more care of these creatures than the other tribes, or than most of the colonists. They are so much celebrated for training the oxen as riding and draught animals, that the Bechuanas acknowledge them to be in this instance their masters, and purchase of them those that they use for riding. These animals go an exceedingly good trot or gallop, and clear a great deal of ground in a very short time. There is no occasion ever to be harsh with them; ’tis sufficient to touch them with a thin osier. The rider never neglects, when he dismounts, to have the animal led about slowly for a quarter of an hour, that he may cool by degrees. The bridle is fastened to a wooden pin, stuck through the nose, and a sheep’s or a goat’s skin serves as a saddle. On this the rider has so firm a seat, that he is in no danger of being thrown by even the wildest ox.

“The Korans do not apply themselves at all to agriculture; their dwellings are spherical huts, very much like those of the Koossas, but not so spacious. Some skins and mats, on which they sleep, some leather knapsacks, and a sort of vessel somewhat in the form of cans, which are cut out of a piece of solid wood, with some calabashes and bamboo canes, compose the whole of their household furniture. Most of them wear a knife of the Bechuana manufactory, in a case slung round their necks, with a small leather bag, or the shell of a tortoise, in which is the pipe, the tobacco and the flint for striking fire.

“They have no fixed habitation, but often move from one place to another, always carrying with them, as is the custom among the other tribes, the staves and mats of which their huts are built. All their goods and chattels are packed together within a very small compass on the back of the patient ox; and thus a whole Koran village is struck and in full march in a few moments. Their form of government is the same as with the other Hottentot tribes; the richest person in the kraal is the captain or provost; he is the leader of the party, and the spokesman on all occasions, without deriving from this office any judicial right over the rest. His authority is exceedingly circumscribed, and no one considers himself as wholly bound to yield obedience to him, neither does he himself ever pretend to command them. Only in case of being obliged to defend themselves against a foreign enemy he is the first, because, being the richest, he suffers most from the attack.

“Plurality of wives is not contrary to their institutions; yet I never heard of anybody who had more than one wife. They are by nature good-tempered; but they are indolent, and do not take any great interest for others; less cunning than the Hottentot, therefore easy to be deceived in trafficking with them; and, from their simplicity, easily won to any purpose by the attraction of strong liquors, tobacco, and the like luxuries.”

On the next page is an illustration of a Koranna chief dressed as described by Lichtenstein. The kaross worn by the individual from whom the portrait was taken was so plentifully bedaubed with red earth and grease, that it left traces of his presence wherever he went, and, if the wearer happened to lean against anything, he caused a stain which could not easily be removed. Suspended to his neck is seen the all-pervading Bechuana knife, and exactly in front is the shell of a small tortoise, in which he kept his snuff.

The leathern cap is universal among them as among other Hottentots, and as the fur is retained, it can be put on with some degree of taste, as may be seen by reference to the portrait. The use of sibilo is common among the Korannas, and, like other Hottentot tribes, the women load their hair so thickly with this substance, that they appear to be wearing a metal cap. Their language is full of clicks, but not so thickly studded with them as that of the Hottentots, and in a short time any person who understands the ordinary Hottentot dialect will be able to learn that of the Korannas.

These tribes have a dance which is very similar to that of Bosjesmans, a drum being used, made of a joint of aloe over which an undressed sheepskin is stretched. The women sit on the ground in a circle, with their arms stretched toward the dancer, and singing a song very much resembling the “Aye-O” of the Bosjesmans. The dancer leans against two sticks, as if they were crutches, twines his arms around his body, and sways himself backward and forward, bending first toward one of the women, and then toward another, until he loses his balance, and as he falls is caught in the outstretched arms of the woman who happens to be nearest to him. Of course, she falls on the ground with the shock, and as soon as they can rise to their feet he resumes his place in the circle, replaces the sticks under his arms, and dances with renewed vigor, while she takes her seat again, in order to catch him if he should happen to fall again in her direction.

The women, by the way, are liable to that extraordinary conformation which has already been mentioned when treating of the Hottentot, and to European eyes their beauty is not increased by it, though a native sees nothing remarkable in it. It is a curious fact that this development should occur in the country which produces an analogous formation in the sheep, whose bodies are thin and meagre, but whose tails are of enormous size, and little but masses of pure fat.

Their names are, as far as can be ascertained, nicknames, given to them on account of any remarkable incident that may have happened to them, and, in consequence, variable from day to day.

Mr. Moffatt, speaking as a missionary, has a very high opinion of the Koranna tribe. He found them docile, good-tempered, and not only willing, but impatiently desirous of gaining knowledge. After preaching and attending the sick all day, in the evening he began to teach some of the younger Korannas the rudiments of learning, when some of the principal men heard of the proceeding, and insisted on being taught also. The whole scene which followed was very amusing.

“It was now late, and both mind and body were jaded, but nothing would satisfy them; I must teach them also. After a search, I found among some waste paper a large sheet alphabet with a corner and two letters torn off. This was laid on the ground, when all knelt in a circle round it, and of course the letters were viewed by some just upside down. I commenced pointing with a stick, and, when I pronounced one letter, all hallooed out to some purpose. When I remarked that perhaps we might manage with somewhat less noise, one replied that he was sure the louder he roared, the sooner would his tongue get accustomed to the ‘seeds,’ as he called the letters.

“As it was growing late, I rose to straighten my back, which was beginning to tire, when I observed some young folks coming dancing and skipping toward me, who, without any ceremony, seized hold of me. ‘Oh! teach us the A B C with music!’ every one cried, giving me no time to tell them it was too late. I found they had made this discovery through one of my boys. There were presently a dozen or more surrounding me, and resistance was out of the question. Dragged and pushed, I entered one of the largest native houses, which was instantly crowded. The tune of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ was pitched to A B C, each succeeding round was joined by succeeding voices until every tongue was vocal, and every countenance beamed with heartfelt satisfaction. The longer the song, the more freedom was felt, and ‘Auld Lang Syne’ was echoed to the farthest end of the village. The strains which inspire pleasurable emotions into the sons of the North were no less potent among the children of the South. Those who had retired to their evening’s slumber, supposing that we were holding a night service, came; for music, it is said, charms the savage ear. It certainly does, particularly the natives of Southern Africa, who, however degraded they may have become, still retain that refinement of taste which enables them to appreciate those tunes which are distinguished by melody and softness.

“After two hours’ singing and puffing, I obtained permission, though with some difficulty of consent, and greater of egress, to leave them, now comparatively proficient. It was between two and three in the morning. Worn out in mind and body, I laid myself down in my wagon, cap and shoes and all, just to have a few hours’ sleep preparatory to departure on the coming day. As the ‘music-hall’ was not far from my pillow, there was little chance of sleeping soundly, for the young amateurs seemed unwearied, and A B C to ‘Auld Lang Syne’ went on till I was ready to wish it at John o’ Groat’s House. The company at length dispersed, and, awaking in the morning after a brief repose, I was not a little surprised to hear the old tune in every corner of the village. The maids milking the cows, and the boys tending the calves, were humming the alphabet over again.” Perhaps this fine old tune may be incorporated into Koranna melodies, just as the story of “Jane Eyre” has taken a place among Arab tales.

During this sojourn among the Korannas, Mr. Moffatt observed a singular instance of retentive memory. He had just finished a sermon, and was explaining portions of it to groups of hearers, when his attention was attracted by a young man who was holding forth to a crowd of attentive hearers. On approaching the spot, he was more than surprised to find that this young man was preaching the sermon second-hand to his audience, and, more than this, was reproducing, with astonishing fidelity, not only the words of a discourse which he had heard but once, but even the gestures of the speaker. When complimented on his wonderful powers of memory, he did not seem at all flattered, but only touched his forehead with his finger, saying, that when he heard anything great, there it remained. This remarkable youth died soon afterward, having been previously converted to Christianity. When preaching, he presented a singular, not to say grotesque appearance, being dressed in part of one leg of a quondam pair of trousers, a cap made of the skin stripped from a zebra’s head, with the ears still attached, and some equally fantastic ornament about his neck. The contrast between the wild figure and the solemnity of the subject, which he was teaching with much earnestness, was most remarkable.

It has been mentioned that Mr. Moffatt was engaged in attending upon the sick. This is an invariable part of a missionary’s duties, as the natives have unbounded faith in the medicinal powers of all white men, and naturally think that those who come to heal their souls must know how to heal their bodies. Fortunately, their faith makes them excellent patients, and is in itself the best cure for affections of a nervous character, to which all men seem liable, no matter what may be the color of their skin. They are passionately desirous of medicine, and it is impossible to mix a draught that can be too nauseous for them; in fact, the more distasteful it is, the greater they think its efficacy. On one occasion, a woman came for some medicine for her husband who was ill, and two very little doses were given her, one to be taken at sunset and the other at midnight. However, she settled that point by immediately taking both draughts herself, stating that it would equally benefit her husband whether he or she happened to take it.

The termination of the word Namaquas shows that it is a Hottentot term, and consequently that the people who bear that name belong to the Hottentot nation. The suffix Qua is analogous among the Hottentots to the prefix Ama among the Kaffir tribes, and signifies “men.” Thus the terms Namaqua, Griqua, Koraqua, Gonaqua, &c., signify that those tribes are branches of the Hottentot nation. Namaquas themselves, however, prefer to be called by the name of Oerlam, a word of uncertain derivation.

The Namaquas, unlike the Korannas, can be referred to a totally distinct locality, their habitation being a large tract of country on the southwest coast of Africa, lying north of the Orange River, or Gariep, and being called from its inhabitants Great Namaqua-land. It is a wild and strange country—dry, barren and rugged, and therefore with a very thinly scattered population, always suffering from want of water, and at times seeming as parched as their own land. For several consecutive years it often happens that no rain falls in a large district, and the beds of the streams and rivers are as dry as the plains. Under these circumstances, the natives haunt the dried water-courses, and, by sinking deep holes in their beds, contrive to procure a scanty and precarious supply of water at the cost of very great labor. Sometimes these wells are dug to the depth of twenty feet, and even when the water is obtained at the expense of so much labor, it is in comparatively small quantities, and of very inferior quality. Branches of trees are placed in these pits by way of ladders, and by their means the Namaquas hand up the water in wooden pails, first filling their own water-vessels, and then supplying their cattle by pouring the water into a trough. This scene is always an animated one, the cattle, half mad with thirst, bellowing with impatience, crowding round the trough, and thrusting one another aside to partake of its contents. A similar scene takes place if a water-hole is discovered on the march. A strong guard, mostly of women, is placed round the precious spot, or the cattle would certainly rush into it in their eagerness to drink what water they could get, and trample the rest into undrinkable mud.

In this strange country, the only supplies of rain are by thunderstorms, and, much as the natives dread the lightning, they welcome the distant rumble of the thunder, and look anxiously for its increasing loudness. These thunderstorms are of terrific violence when they break over a tract of country, and in a few hours the dry watercourses are converted into rushing torrents, and the whole country for a time rejoices in abundant moisture. The effect on vegetation is wonderful. Seed that have been lying in the parched ground waiting in vain for the vivifying moisture spring at once into life, and, aided by the united influence of a burning sun and moist ground, they spring up with marvellous rapidity. These storms are almost invariably very partial, falling only on a limited strip of country, so that the traveller passes almost at a step out of a barren and parched country, with scarcely a blade of grass or a leaf of herbage, into a green tract as luxuriant as an English meadow.

The geological formation is mostly granite, and the glittering quartz crystals are scattered so profusely over the surface, that a traveller who is obliged to pursue his journey at noon can scarcely open his eyes sufficiently to see his way, so dazzling are the rays reflected on every side. In many parts the ground is impregnated with nitre, which forms a salt-like incrustation, and crumbles under the feet, so that vegetation is scarcely possible, even in the vicinity of water. There seem to be few inhabited lands which are more depressing to the traveller, and which cause more wonder that human beings can be found who can endure for their whole lives its manifold discomforts. Yet they appear to be happy enough in their own strange way, and it is very likely that they would not exchange their dry and barren land for the most fertile country in the world.

The euphorbia best flourishes in the ravines, but, from its poisonous nature, adds little to the comfort of the traveller. Even the honey which the wild bees deposit in the rocks is tainted with the poison of the euphorbia flowers, and, if eaten, causes most painful sensations. The throat first begins to feel as if cayenne-pepper had been incautiously swallowed, and the burning heat soon spreads and becomes almost intolerable. Even in a cool country its inward heat would be nearly unendurable, but in such a place as Namaqua-land, what the torture must be can scarcely be conceived. Water seems to aggravate instead of allaying the pain, and the symptoms do not go off until after the lapse of several days.

On account of their privations, which they are constantly obliged to endure, the inhabitants are, as a rule, almost hopelessly ignorant, and without the martial spirit which distinguishes so many tribes which inhabit Southern Africa. Still, the celebrated chief, Africaner, contrived to make good soldiers out of the Namaquas, and under his leadership they made his name dreaded throughout a large portion of South-western Africa. He revolutionized the ordinary system of warfare, which consisted in getting behind bushes and shooting arrows at each other, by which much time was consumed and little harm done, and boldly led his men on at the run, driving his astonished antagonists out of their sheltering places. In this way he subdued the neighboring tribes, especially the Damaras, who looked upon him as a sort of wild beast in human form.

Not only did he fight against native enemies, but matched himself successfully against the Dutch Boers, in this case having recourse to stratagem when he knew he could not succeed by open force in face of such an enemy. On one occasion, when the Dutch forces had made a raid on Africaner’s territory, and carried off all his cows, he pursued them, swam a river at dead of night, fell upon the unsuspecting enemy as they slept, killed numbers of them, and recovered all his own cattle, together with those belonging to the assailants. It will be seen therefore that the military spirit is not wanting in the Namaqua character, but that it merely slumbers for want of some one to awake it.

In former days they may possibly have been a warlike nation, inasmuch as they possessed rather peculiar weapons, namely, the bow and arrow, and an enormous shield made of the entire skin of an ox, folded singly. They also used the assagai, but in the present day civilization has so far penetrated among them that the only weapon which they use is the gun, and it is many years since a Namaqua has been seen with the ancient weapons of his nation.

Like other Hottentots, the Namaquas are fond of wearing European apparel, and, as usual in such cases, look very bad in it. The men are merely transformed from respectable savages into disreputable vagabonds, and to them it is not so very unsuitable, but to the women it is peculiarly so, owing to the odd manner in which they paint their faces. A girl, dressed in her little skin apron and ornamented with coils of leathern thongs, may paint her face as much as she pleases without appearing grotesque. But nothing can look more ridiculous than a girl in a striped cotton dress, with a red handkerchief round her head, and the outlines of her cheeks, nose, and eyelids defined with broad stripes of blue paint. The costume of the men resembles that of the women, minus the skin apron, the place of which is taken by the ends of the leathern thongs. The Namaquas are very fond of bead-work, and display some taste in their designs. They are not contented with buying glass beads from Europe, but manufacture those ornaments themselves. The mode of manufacture is simple enough. A resinous gum is procured, moistened thoroughly, and kneaded with charcoal. It is then rolled between the hands into long cylinders, which are cut up into small pieces, and again rolled until a tolerably spherical shape is obtained. They also have a great love for glittering ornaments made of metal, and decorate themselves profusely with native jewelry, made of polished iron, brass, and copper. They also tattoo their skins, and make great use of the buchu perfume.

As the Namaquas have not been accustomed to exercise their minds on any subject except those immediately connected with themselves, it is found very difficult to drive any new ideas into their heads. Some writers say that many of them have no names, and not a single one has the least idea of his own age, or of counting time by years. Indeed, counting at all is an intellectual exertion that is positively painful to them, and a man who knows the number of his fingers is scarcely to be found among them. Such statements are often the result of ignorance, not of the savages, but of their visitors, who must needs live among them for years, and be thoroughly acquainted with their language, before they can venture to generalize in so sweeping a fashion. Mr. Moffatt, who did live among the Namaquas, and knew their language intimately, says that he never knew a man who had not a name, and that mere children are able to count beyond the number ten.

Of religion they appear to have but the faintest glimmering, and it is more than suspected that even their rude and imperfect ideas on the subject are corruptions of information obtained from Europeans. Superstitions they have in plenty, some of them resembling those which are held by the tribes which have already been mentioned.

Their idea of the coming of death into the world is one of these odd notions. It seems that in former days, when men were first made, the hare had no cleft in its lip. The moon sent a hare to the newly created beings with this message: “As I die, and am born again, so you shall die and be born again.” The hare, however, delivered the message wrongly, “As I die and am not born again, so you shall die and not be born again.” The moon, angry at the hare’s disobedience, threw a stick at it as it fled away from his wrath, and split its lip open. From that time the hare has a cleft lip, and is always running away. In consequence of this legend, the Namaquas will not eat the hare. They have such a horror of it, that if a man should happen even to touch a fire at which a hare has been cooked he is banished from his community, and not readmitted until he has paid a fine.

During the terrible thunderstorms which occasionally pass over the country, the Namaquas are in great dread of the lightning, and shoot their poisoned arrows at the clouds in order to drive it away. This is illustrated on page 271. As may be imagined, there is no small danger in this performance, and a man has been killed by the lightning flash, which was attracted by his pointed arrow. Other tribes have a similar custom, being in the habit of throwing stones or other objects at the clouds.

As far as can be ascertained, their only notion of a supreme being is one who is the author of death and inflicter of pain, and one consequently whom they fear, but cannot love. Still, all statements of this nature made by savages must be received with very great caution, owing to the invincible repugnance which they feel toward revealing any portion of their religious system. They will rather state anything than the truth, and will either invent a series of imaginative stories on the spur of the moment, or say whatever they think is likely to please their interrogator. Even if they are converted to Christianity, sufficient of the old nature remains to render them averse to speaking on their former superstition, and they will mostly fence with the question or evade it rather than tell the whole truth.

Being superstitious, they have, of course, sorcerers in plenty. Besides the usual pretensions of such personages, they claim the power of voluntary transmigration, and their followers implicitly believe that they can assume the form of any beast which they choose to select. They fancy, however, that their own sorcerers or witch doctors share this power with the Bosjesman race. Mr. Anderson quotes the following legend in support of this statement. “Once on a time a certain Namaqua was travelling in company with a Bushwoman carrying a child on her back. They had proceeded some distance on their journey when a troop of wild horses (zebras) appeared, and the man said to the woman, ‘I am hungry, and as I know you can turn yourself into a lion, do so now, and catch us a wild horse that we may eat.’ The woman answered, ‘You will be afraid.’

“‘No, no.’ said the man, ‘I am afraid of dying of hunger, but not of you.’

“Whilst he was speaking, hair began to appear at the back of the woman’s neck, her nails assumed the appearance of claws, and her features altered. She set down the child. The man, alarmed at the change, climbed up a tree close by, while the woman glared at him fearfully; and, going to one side, she threw off her skin petticoat, when a perfect lion rushed out into the plain. It bounded and crept among the bushes toward the wild horses, and, springing on one of them, it fell, and the lion lapped its blood. The lion then came back to the place where the child was crying, and the man called from the tree, ‘Enough! enough! Do not hurt me. Put off your lion’s shape. I will never ask to see this again.’ The lion looked at him and growled. ‘I’ll remain here till I die!’ exclaimed the man, ‘if you do not become a woman again.’ The mane and tail began to disappear, the lion went toward the bush where the skin petticoat lay; it was slipped on, and the woman in her proper shape took up the child. The man descended, partook of the horse’s flesh, but never again asked the woman to catch game for him.”

Their notions about the two chief luminaries seem rather variable, though there is certainly a connecting link between them. One account was, that the sun was made of people living in the sea, who cut it in pieces every night, fried the fragments, put them together again, and sent it afresh on its journey through the sky. Another story, as told to Mr. Anderson, is to the effect that the sun is a huge lump of pure fat, and that, when it sinks below the waves, it is seized by the chief of a white man’s ship, who cuts off a piece of it, and then gives it a kick which throws it into the sky again. It is evident that this story has at all events received some modification in recent times.

As to worship, the Namaquas seem to have little idea of it. They are very much afraid of a bad spirit, but have no conception of a good one, and therefore have no worship. Of praise they have not the least conception. So far are they from feeling gratitude to a supreme being, that their language does not possess a word or a phrase by which they can express their thanks to their fellow creatures. Some travellers who have lived among them say that they not only do not express, but do not feel gratitude, nor feel kindness, and that, although they will feign friendship for a superior in order to get what they can from him, they will desert him as soon as he can give no more, and ridicule him for his credulity. In short, “they possess every vice of savages, and none of their noble qualities.” This, however, seems rather too sweeping an assertion, especially as it is contradicted by others of equal experience, and we may therefore calculate that the Namaqua Hottentot is, in his wild state, neither worse nor better than the generality of savages, and that higher, feelings cannot be expected of him until they have been implanted in him by contact with a higher race.

Rain-making is practised by Namaqua witch doctors, as well as by the prophets of the Kaffir tribes, and the whole process is very similar, deriving all its efficacy from the amount of the fee which the operator receives. These men also practise the art of healing, and really exercise no small amount of ingenuity. They have a theory, and, like theorists in general, they make their practice yield to their theory, which is, that the disease has insinuated itself into the patient in the guise of some small reptile, and must be expelled. They seem to be clever conjurers, for they perform the task of exorcism with such ingenuity that they have deceived, not only the credulous, but the sharper gaze of Europeans.

One such performance was witnessed by a Dutchman, who fully believed that the operation was a genuine one. A sheep was killed as soon as the doctor arrived, and the sinews of the back rolled up and made into a kind of pill, which was administered to the patient, the rest of the animal being the fee of the doctor. The mysterious pill was then left for a day or two to transform the disease into a visible shape, so that it could be removed before the eyes of the spectators. On the return of the doctor, he solemnly cut some little holes in the stomach of the patient, from which there issued, first a small snake, then a lizard, and then a whole series of smaller creatures. As is the case among the Kaffirs, the richer a patient is, the larger is the animal required for the production of the sacred pill. If he be a man of no particular consequence, a goat or a sheep will work the charm, while, if he should happen to be a chief, not a disease will condescend to assume bodily form unless instigated by an ox or a cow.

The witch doctors have another theory of disease, namely, that a great snake has shot an invisible arrow into the sufferer. Of course, this ailment has to be treated in a similar manner. The reader may perhaps call to mind the very similar superstition which once prevailed in England, namely, that cattle were sometimes shot with fairy arrows, which had to be extracted by the force of counter-charms. The great panacea for diseases is, however, a sort of charm which requires several years for its production, and which has the property of becoming more powerful every year. When a man is initiated into the mysteries of the art, he puts on a cap, which he wears continually. In the course of time it becomes saturated with grease, and is in a terribly filthy condition. Not until then is it thought to possess healing properties; but when it is in such a state that no one with ordinary feelings of cleanliness would touch it, the hidden virtues are supposed to be developed. The mode of administering the remedy is by washing a little portion of the cap, and giving the patient the water to drink. One of the chiefs, named Amral, assured Mr. Anderson that he possessed a cap of this kind, which was absolutely infallible, he would not use it unless every other remedy failed, but, whenever he did so, the cure was certain.

The Namaquas have great faith in amulets and charms of various kinds, the strangest of which is a rather curious one. When a chief dies, cattle are sacrificed, in order to furnish a great feast. One of the sons of the deceased succeeds his father in the chieftainship, and, in recognition of his new rank, the fat and other choice portions are brought to him as they had been to his father in his lifetime. The young chief places the fat on his head, and allows it to remain there until the fat has been melted out of it by the sun’s rays, and only the enclosing membrane remains, dry and shrivelled. This is thought to be a powerful charm, and is held in great estimation. The reader will notice the fact that there seems to be in the mind of the Namaquas some connection between the head and the power of charming.

On the tombs of chiefs the Namaquas have a habit of flinging stones, each throwing one stone upon it whenever he passes by. Why they do so, they either cannot or will not tell—probably the latter; but in process of time, the heap attains a considerable size. This is the only superstition which gives any indication of their belief in a future life, for they have a kind of dim notion about an invisible but potent being, whom they name Heitjeebib, or Heitjekobib, who, they think, is able to grant or withhold prosperity. Spirit though he be, they localize him in the tombs, and the casting of stones has probably some reference to him.

Like other savage nations, they have certain ceremonies when their youth attain manhood, and at that time the youth is instructed in the precepts which are to govern his life for the future. These are rather of a negative than a positive nature, and two very important enactments are, that he must never eat the hare, and must cease from sucking the goats. The latter injunction requires a little explanation. As long as the Namaquas are children, they are accustomed to visit the female goats, drive away the kids, and take their place. This, however, is considered to be essentially a childish occupation, to be abandoned forever when the boy seeks to be admitted among the men.

As far as is known, there are few, if any, matrimonial ceremonies among the Namaqua Hottentots. When a man wishes to marry any particular woman, he goes to her parents and simply demands her. If the demand is acceded to, an ox is killed outside the door of the bride’s house, and she then goes home to her new husband. Polygamy is permitted among this people, and, as is the case in other countries, has its drawbacks as well as its advantages. In a country where the whole of the manual labor is performed by the women, such a state is necessary, each woman being a sort of domestic servant, and in no sense the equal companion of the man. Its drawbacks may be summed up in the word “jealousy,” that being a failing to which the Namaqua women are very subject, and which generally finds its vent in blows. If a man becomes tired of his wife, he needs no divorce court, but simply cuts the conjugal knot by sending the woman back to her family. She has no redress; and, however much she and her parents may object to the proceeding, they cannot prohibit it.

In peaceful arts they have some skill, especially in training oxen. This is a difficult process, and is managed with great care. The young animal is first induced to step into the noose of a rope which is laid on the ground, and, as soon as it has done so, a number of men seize the other end of the rope, and, in spite of his struggles, hold the animal tightly. Sometimes the infuriated animal charges at them, and in that case they let go the rope and scatter in all directions, only to renew their hold when the fury of the animal is exhausted. Another rope is then thrown over his horns, and by sharply pulling this and his tail, and at the same time jerking his leg off the ground, the trainers force the animal to fall. His head is then held on the ground, and a sharp stick thrust through his nostrils, a tough leathern thong being then attached to each end of the stick, and acting as a bridle.

The more an ox struggles and fights, the more docile he becomes afterward, and the more is he valued, while an ox which is sulky, especially if he lies down and declines to rise, is never of much use. Loads, carefully graduated, are then fastened on his back, beginning with a simple skin or empty bag, and ending with the full burden which an ox is supposed to carry. The hide rope with which the burden is lashed on the back of the ox is often one hundred and fifty feet in length, and consequently passes round and round the body of the animal.

The chief difficulty is, to train an ox that will act as leader. The ox is naturally a gregarious animal, and when he is associated with his fellows, he never likes to walk for any distance unless there is a leader whom he can follow. In a state of nature the leader would be the strongest bull, but in captivity he finds that all are very much alike in point of strength, while their combative powers have been too much repressed to allow any one animal to fight his way to the leadership. Very few oxen have the qualities which enable them to be trained as leaders, but the Namaquas, who have excellent eyes for the chief points of an ox, always select for this purpose the animals of lightest build and most sprightly look, so that they may keep their followers at a brisk pace when on the march. Their activity would naturally induce them to keep ahead of their companions, so that the Namaquas merely assist nature when they select such animals to serve as leaders.

The dreadful practice of abandoning the aged prevails in Namaqua-land. A slight fence is built round the unfortunate victim of so cruel a custom, who is then abandoned, having been furnished with a little food, fire, and water, which are destined to play the part of the bread and water placed in the tomb of an offending vestal. Travellers through this country sometimes come upon the remains of a small fence, within which are a heap of ashes, the remains of a water vessel, and a heap of whitened bones, and they know that these are the memorials of an old Namaqua who has been left to perish with hunger and thirst. Such persons must be very old when they succumb to such a death, for some have been known to live to the age of ninety, and now and then a centenarian is found.

It is hardly credible, though true, that the Namaquas are so used to this parricidal custom that they look at it with indifference. They expect no other fate if they themselves should happen to live until they are so old as to be an incumbrance to their people, and the strangest thing is the acquiescence with which those who are thus abandoned resign themselves to their fate. Mr. Moffatt mentions an instance where an old woman, whom he found in a most pitiable state of suffering, refused to be taken away by him and fed. It was the custom of the tribe, she said; she was already nearly dead, and did not want to die twice.

Their amusements are so similar to those which have already been mentioned that there is no need to describe them separately. As to work, the men do little or nothing, preferring to lounge about in the sun for days together, and will sit half dead with hunger and thirst, rather than take the trouble to go and look for food and water. They have an odd way of comparing a man who works with the worms of the ground, and that comparison is thought to be a sufficient reason why a man should not work.

One very curious custom prevails among the Namaquas. Those who visit them are expected to adopt a father and mother, and the newly-made relations are supposed to have their property in common. This is probably a native practice, but the Namaquas have had no scruple in extending it to Europeans, finding that in such cases a community of goods becomes rather a lucrative speculation.