Shoshong, the capital of the eastern Bamangwatos, is undoubtedly the most important town in any of the independent native kingdoms in the interior of South Africa. In the main valley of the interesting Bamangwato heights lies the bed of an insignificant stream which is full only after the summer rains, and which receives a periodically-flowing brook, called the Shoshon. On this the town is situated, so that it would seem that Shoshong is the ablative of Shoshon, i.e., on the Shoshon.

Ten years ago, before the war broke out between the various members of the royal family, Shoshong with its 30,000 inhabitants held the highest rank of any town throughout the six Bechuana countries, (viz. those of the Batlapins, Barolongs, Banquaketse, Bakuenas, and the eastern and western Bamangwatos) where the strength of the ruling power is usually centred in their capital for the time being. The population of Shoshong is now scarcely a fifth part of what it formerly was, a falling-off to be attributed to Sekhomo, who was king of the eastern Bamangwatos at the time of my first visit; not only was he the promoter of the civil war, which cost the lives of many of the people, but he was the means of causing a division of the tribe, which resulted in the migration of the Makalakas. Under the rule of Khame, Sekhomo’s son, decidedly the most enlightened of the Bechuana princes, the town is manifestly reviving, and if during the next few years it should remain free from hostilities on the part of the Matabele Zulus, it may be expected to rise again into its old pre-eminence amongst Bechuana towns. For white men, traders, hunters, and explorers alike, it is and always must be a place of the utmost importance, and that for the following reason: there are three great highways that lead into the four southernmost Bechuana kingdoms, viz., from Griqualand West, from the Transvaal, and from the Orange Free State; the whole of these unite at Shoshong, whence they all branch off again, one to the north, towards the Zambesi, another to the north-east to the Matabele and Mashona countries, and another to the north-west, to the country of the western Bamangwatos and to the Damara country, so that it follows as a matter of necessity that the admittance of a traveller into Central Africa from the south depends upon his reception by Khame at Shoshong.

The valley of the Bamangwato highland is five or six miles wide, and overgrown with grass and bushwood; it is partly cultivated, and at its point of union with the Shoshong pass it is speckled over with some hundreds of thatched cylindrical huts, about twelve feet in diameter, and rarely more than seven feet in height, some of them overgrown with the rough dark foliage of the calabash-gourd.

Approaching the town from the south, we noticed three farmsteads and five detached brick houses about 600 yards before we entered the place. These houses were built with gables, and had much more of an European than of a Bamangwato aspect. We learnt that they were called “the white man’s quarters,” being occupied during part of the year by English merchants, who come to transact business with the natives, and, in years gone by, supplied provisions to the hunters, to be paid for on their return in ivory and ostrich-feathers. Amongst the firms of this character, the most important, I believe, was that of Messrs. Francis and Clark, but, like other inland traders, they must latterly have experienced very unfavourable times.

Hitherto the king has refused to allow Europeans to purchase any land, but has permitted them to occupy the sites of their premises gratuitously.

The chief thing that struck me as we approached the town was the number of residences that had been abandoned, although in many of these repairs were now going on. In one place I observed some women daubing clay with their bare hands over a wall six feet high, made of stakes as thick as their arms driven about a foot into the ground, and fastened together with grass; while close by was a lot of children, varying from six to ten years old, busily preparing the material for their mothers’ use; these youngsters evidently enjoyed their occupation vastly; they were dressed in nothing beyond their little aprons of beads or spangles, and accomplished their task by treading down the red clay in a shallow trench, chanting continually a kind of song, which was not altogether unmusical; an old woman whose scraggy limbs, parchment-skin, and general mummy-like appearance did not say much for the amount of care bestowed upon her, was pouring water into the trench from the vessels which stood beside her.

In other places women were clambering on to the newly-constructed roofs, and making them tidy by pulling off the projecting stalks, or were putting the finishing touch to their work by fastening thin bands of grass all over the thatch.

All along the paths, in the courtyards, and especially at the hedges, crowds of inquisitive women with infants in their arms, and clusters of small children around them, had assembled to criticize the makoa (white men) and freely enough they passed their opinions about us. Most of them wore several strings of large dark blue beads round their necks, and the breasts of most of them were bare, although occasionally they had cotton jackets or woollen handkerchiefs, the prevailing colours being red and black; nearly all of them had skirts reaching to the knees, if not to the ankles.

It took us about an hour to make our way through the labyrinth of huts before we entered the glen that contains the town. This glen is about 400 yards wide at its mouth, but gradually converges to a narrow rocky pass; at first sight, indeed, it presented the appearance of a cul-de-sac, but the semblance was only caused by the western side of the steep pass projecting so far as to conceal the eastern, which is covered with rugged crags, and called the monkey-rock. The pass has played an important part in the history of the town.

The mission-house of the London Missionary Society lies on the side of the pass, and as we went towards it we saw three groups of houses on the right, forming the central portion of the town, of which another section lies in a rocky hollow on the other side.

High above the river-bed on the steep to the left, could be seen the ruins of a European building, the remains of the Hermannsburg Mission Chapel, which had been used as a rampart in one of the native battles, and had been all but destroyed. The mission had previously withdrawn from Shoshong and been replaced by the London Missionary Society, of which the buildings are very comfortable, and form an important settlement, as besides the chapel and school, they include the dwellings occupied by the married native students.

At the time of my first visit to Shoshong, the principal of the mission was Mr. Mackenzie, one of the noblest-hearted men I ever met with in South Africa; since 1876, when he removed with his school to Kuruman, his place has been vacant, but his associate, Mr. Hephrun, still continues to reside at Shoshong in another house.

Having been kindly entertained at tea by Mr. Mackenzie and his wife, we started off under his escort to pay our respects to the king, who, we were told, was waiting to receive us in the kotla. We saw throngs of women in the pass under the monkey-rock carrying vessels full of water from the spring in the centre of the glen; their garment generally was a sort of toga of untanned skin, with the hair inside, fastened round the body, and leaving the right hand free to balance their pitchers on their heads, which they did so adroitly, that not a drop was spilled upon the roughest roads. The dress was commonly adorned profusely with bead ornaments and strips of leather, and the calves of the women’s legs were covered with rings of beads and brass-wire.

The king’s residence, as usual, was built round the kotla, and on our way thither, we had the opportunity of observing the respectful greetings which our conductor received from every one who met us, young and old. The place was a circular space enclosed by a fence of strong stakes, the entrance being on the south side, opposite to which was an opening leading to another smaller enclosure, which was the king’s cattle-kraal, where his farm stock was kept at night, the horses being accommodated in the kotla itself. Every night the entrances are made secure with stakes, and in times of war large fires are kindled and kept blazing inside.

I have the utmost pleasure in recording my obligations to Mr. Mackenzie. He is an accomplished man, the author of “Ten Years North of the Orange River,” but his kindly attentions to myself have made me regard him with a sincere affection. I was introduced to him through having been asked to convey some letters to him in 1874 by his fellow-workers in Molopolole, and his courteous reception of me, and his subsequent kindness in the time of illness, have so endeared the remembrance of his name, that I count it as one of the chief recompenses of all my hard experience that I became acquainted with him. I regard him thoroughly as a messenger of love.

As missionary in Shoshong during the incessant discords in the royal family, he had a most difficult position to maintain. But he was the right man in the right place: with much circumspection he acted as mediator between the contending parties; gifted with discretion, and full of sympathy for all that is noble, he succeeded in smoothing down many difficulties, and arousing something like a proper sense of justice and humanity. It is entirely owing to him that Sekhomo’s son, Khame, is now one of the best native sovereigns in the whole of South Africa.

I had placed our waggon at the south-east end of the town, where it was quickly surrounded by an inquisitive crowd, and there I left it while I paid my visit to the king.

We were soon in the royal presence, and seated upon stools set for us in the kotla.

Except his begging propensities, I had no cause to complain of Sekhomo’s behaviour to myself during my short sojourn in his town. He was a man above middle height, rather inclined to be stout, but with nothing in either his appearance or comportment to distinguish him from any of the courtiers who attended him, or to mark him out in any way as the ruler of an important tribe. A small leather lappet was fastened round his loins, and a short mantle of the same material hung from his shoulders; this mantle, amongst the eastern Bamangwatos, is usually made of hartebeest skin, tanned smoothly except in five spots, and sometimes ornamented in the lower corner with a black circle cut from the skin of the sword-antelope, and trimmed round the neck with glass beads.

My first visit to the king was very brief. After the interchange of a few formal phrases, which Mr. Mackenzie interpreted, I took my leave under an engagement to come again on the following day; but before entering upon the details of my intercourse with Sekhomo and his subjects, I may introduce a few episodes in the history of the Bamangwatos.

According to traditions collected by Mr. Mackenzie the Bamangwatos are descended from the Banguaketse. I have already described how the Baharutse became subdivided, and migrated from their ancestral home. After a similar subdivision had subsequently led to the formation of the two tribes of the Banguaketse and the Bakuenas, the Bamangwatos disengaged themselves from the former of these, and took possession of a territory north of the Bakuenas, right away to the Zambesi and the Chobe. During the lifetime of Matifi, Sekhomo’s great-grandfather, a fresh rupture took place, resulting in the establishment of two distinct Bamangwato communities, the western on Lake Ngami and the eastern at Shoshong.

Of the eastern empire, the founder was Towane, the younger of Matipi’s two sons; Khame, the elder son, maintaining his rule in the old Bamangwato highland. Towane, in his revolt, carried off his father with him, but he treated him so badly, that the aged man sought refuge once again with Khame; but Khame, although he allowed him to enter into his territory, would not grant him permission to reside in the town, a refusal that distressed him so sorely, that he died of a broken heart. The spot where he was buried is now regarded by the Bamangwatos with much veneration.

The most upright of the seven Bamangwato kings whose names have been handed down was Khari; of him it is reported that he was bold and warlike and prudent in council, governing his dependents the Makalahari, the Madenassanas, and the Masarwas with a gentle rule. So respected was he by the neighbouring tribes, that several of them, such as the Makalakas and some of the more eastern Mashonas paid him voluntary tribute. Unfortunately, his ambition, a characteristic only too common amongst Bechuana princes, led him to destruction, and introduced a complete anarchy into his dominions. Honoured as he was in his own country, respected by his allies, feared by his foes, he coveted a yet wider power, and in grasping at his aim courted his own fall. He formed a design against one of the inferior Mashona chiefs, but the Mashonas, already acquainted with the military tactics of the Bamangwatos, adroitly divided their army into two sections; the younger regiments were directed to advance and attack, and then to feign a retreat; the elder troops were to be in readiness to close in at the rear and to surround the enemy in Zulu fashion. The stratagem succeeded perfectly; the Mashonas brought their pretended flight to a sudden end, and turned upon their pursuers. Khari and his people had been lured into an ambuscade, and not only was he himself ruthlessly massacred, but his whole army was all but annihilated.

Immediately upon this disaster, the surviving chieftains in the town proceeded to take steps for putting one of Khari’s sons upon the throne. This created considerable opposition, but before the civil war that was threatening had time to develop itself, the country was invaded by the Basuto tribe of the Makololos from the Orange River district, who carried off with them all the members of Khari’s family into the north, where they were founding a new settlement on the Chobe. The prisoners succeeded after a while in effecting their escape, and Sekhomo, Khari’s eldest son by birth (although not being the child of the chief wife, he was not the proper heir to the throne) lost no time in scouring the country and collecting stragglers as adherents to himself. He gathered together a force so considerable, that not only did he repel an attack of the Makololos, but he cut to pieces their reserve force in the Unicorn Pass; a victory so decisive, that it gained for him the allegiance of most of the chiefs, who, at his instigation, murdered his step-brother, the true heir. Another brother, Matsheng, was saved from a similar fate by the queen-mother, who gave him timely warning to save himself by flight.

The one victory was followed up by others, and it was not long before the Bamangwatos under Sekhomo felt themselves strong enough to make a successful stand against the Matabele Zulus, who for the last thirty years had been in the habit of invading the Bechuana countries for the purpose of plunder; they recaptured much of the cattle that had been carried off, and so impressed was the Matabele king, Moselikatze, with their military skill that he long hesitated to attack them, and when he next ventured to molest them he found them more than a match for him; he sent forty armed Zulus to demand tribute from Sekhomo, but his messengers were all put to death, so that he did not make any further attempt to disturb them during the next twenty years, during which the Bamangwatos brought their cattle as far as the Matliutse. In March, 1862, at the instigation of Kirekilwe, a fugitive sub-chieftain of the Bamangwatos, the Matabele king renewed hostilities; some Makalahari while tending cattle on the Matliutse and Serule were put to death, and a village on the eastern Bamangwato heights was destroyed, only two men escaping to carry the news to Shoshong. Without delay Khame and Khamane, the king’s sons, set off to avenge the injury; they routed two companies of the Matabele without difficulty, but were almost overpowered by a third company which had been attracted to the scene by the sound of fire-arms, and although they killed some forty of their adversaries, they lost at least twenty of their own men, and had some difficulty in making a safe retreat to Shoshong. Encouraged by this temporary advantage the Matabele came on to the Francis Joseph Valley, and to the hills immediately overhanging Shoshong; they laid waste some fields, but had not the audacity to enter the Shoshon pass; after many endeavours to entice the Bamangwatos into the open plains, they were obliged to retire, and although they carried off with them a considerable quantity of cattle, Sekhomo started off in pursuit, and recovered it all within a fortnight.

As the result of all this the Bamangwatos rose in importance. They were manifestly establishing their superiority over the Matabele, hitherto regarded as the stoutest and most invincible of warriors, and the consequence was that numbers of Makalalas, Batalowtas, Mapaleng, Maownatlalas, and Baharutse, came as fugitives from the Matabele district and craved permission to settle on the Bamangwato heights.

But in order to convey a correct conception of the order of events, it is necessary to relate the proceedings of Matsheng, who, as I have already mentioned, had saved his life by flight. He had betaken himself to the Bakuenas, and had been taken prisoner by the Matabele on one of their marauding expeditions, and although once released, he had again fallen into their hands, and had been trained and treated by them as a “lechaga,” or common soldier.

Sechele had for a long time been anxious to establish his own claim over the Bamangwatos, as being descended from his people, the Banguaketse, but finding himself unable to assert his pretensions openly, he tried secretly to enlist the sympathies of the Bamangwatos in behalf of Matsheng, and so far did he succeed that by Dr. Moffat’s influence he obtained the release of the captive, and gave him a pompous reception, a proceeding that had such an effect upon Churuku, the man next in importance to Sekhomo, that he declared himself to have espoused the cause of Matsheng, who was accordingly installed at Shoshong as king, Sechele being rewarded for his services with ostrich-feathers and ivory. The dethroned Sekhomo fled to Sechele, who received him with open arms.

Matsheng, however, did not long retain the position to which he had been raised. He had been brought up as a Matabele soldier, and his spirit of despotism was far too strong for the conservative instincts of the Bamangwatos; his arrogance and cruelty soon cost him his throne, Churuku being the very first to revolt against him and to restore Sekhomo to his former power. Again Matsheng returned to Sechele, who received him with unvarying courtesy and kindness. All this happened in 1859, consequently before the attack of the Matabele that I have described.

It may be interesting to know that although Matsheng was universally regarded as Sekhomo’s step-brother, he was not really the son of his father Khari; he was the son of the acknowledged queen, but he was not born until some years after Khari’s death; the rank, however, of the first-born and legitimate son was conceded to him, whilst Sekhomo, a son by a wife of the second grade, though older in years, was reckoned as illegitimate.

It was in 1864 that Sekhomo frustrated Sechele’s attack upon Shoshong. In the following year, when the “boguera” was being celebrated, and Sekhomo observed that neither of his two sons was taking part in the ceremonial, he was so angry that he caused them to be “enchanted” by the molois for a whole year, a proceeding on his part that had no other effect than enlisting the sympathies of the younger regiments on their behalf. His rage reached its height when Khame, who had married Churuku’s daughter, not only refused for himself, but prohibited his wife from taking any share in the rites of the boguera, a time-honoured institution which Sekhomo positively insisted on as indispensable for any one aspiring to be acknowledged as a future queen. He would have liked to procure the assassination of Churuku, but he dared not seek his assassins amongst the Bamangwatos, nor could any Matabele fugitive be induced to undertake the task. He tried all manner of threats and persuasions to alienate their adherents, and even determined upon an assault upon the huts where his sons resided. Getting together a number of his partisans, he bade them fire; not a man, however, would obey his orders, and when he raised his own gun to take aim, it was struck out of his hand. Dreading the vengeance which he felt sure would follow upon his deed, he ran off and took refuge with his mother; but his sons, so far from exacting retribution, agreed to keep him upon the throne upon the sole condition that he would commit no further act of hostility against themselves or any other members of the Christian community. Although Sekhomo did not hesitate to give the required pledge, it was only in accordance with his character that he should continue to devise clandestine schemes against the objects of his hatred.

Accordingly, before long, he sent to Sechele’s quarters and invited Matsheng to come and join him in a conspiracy against his sons. In March he made his attack, having by this time gained so many of the Bamangwatos to his side, that Khame and Khamane, after holding out as long as they could in the ruins of the chapel, were obliged to retreat with their followers to the mountains.

For about a month fighting went on in a desultory way without bringing decided advantage to either party, when Sekhomo, with the assistance of some Makalahari, stormed the peaks of the mountains to which his sons had withdrawn. They held out firmly for more than a week, when the want of water compelled them to make a complete surrender. Khame distinctly refused, however, to return to paganism; his life was spared, but no mercy was shown to his followers, many of them, including Churuku, being ruthlessly slaughtered.

In May, Matsheng reappeared in Shoshong once more to assert his claim. Khame and Khamane openly avowed their opposition, but did not take up arms. Sekhomo, too, was weary of his step-brother, and again resorted to stratagem. He called an assembly, inviting both his sons and Matsheng to his kotla, intending to get them to enter first, when they might be surrounded and disposed of at a single blow; but they got scent of his design, and took care to enter last, so that the plot was defeated. A second scheme failed as totally as the first; his friends deserted him, and he was compelled to fly. Thus Matsheng was for the second time declared ruler of the Bamangwatos.

Sekhomo fled from quarter to quarter. He first betook himself to the Manupi in the country of the Banguaketse; then to the Makhosi, whence he was expelled by Sechele’s order, and finally he took refuge with Khatsisive at Kanye.

Matsheng had no sooner again felt his feet as sole governor, than he fell into his old ways, and showed himself a thorough autocrat. He set to work to undermine the influence of Khame and Khamane, declared that Christianity was hostile to the welfare of the tribe, and persevered in every possible way in doing violence to the religious sentiments of his people. Finding his instructions disregarded, he determined to dispose of Khame. He dared not use violent means, and the only course that suggested itself was to call in the aid of the molois; but neither did the operation of magic prove effectual, nor did he succeed in getting some poison, for which he applied to a European trader.

His reign at last came to an untimely end. Whilst Khame was on a visit to Khatsisive he met Sechele, who furnished him with troops to enable him to expel Matsheng. An encounter took place in the Francis Joseph valley, at the mouth of the Shoshon pass, in which Matsheng was worsted, the engagement being remarkable for the circumstance that Matsheng’s allies, the Matabele, under the command of Kuruman, the son of Moselikatze, fought on horseback. Prepared for this, Khame posted his best marksmen as advanced skirmishers behind the bushes so effectually, that the mounted Matabele, once dispersed, were exposed to a concealed fire, and unable to recover themselves. Kuruman deserted in the very middle of the fight, and Matsheng, with all his followers, after plundering the house of Mr. Drake, a trader in the district, fled in great disorder.

From that day forward the legitimate ruler was never again seen in Shoshong. He retired first to the Mashwapong heights on the central Limpopo in the eastern Bamangwato land, but was not allowed to remain in peace. Khamane drove him from his refuge, and he retreated to the Mabolo Mountains. After his expulsion Khame was declared king, and for a time there seemed some chance of the bitter feuds coming to an end.

Khame, however, appeared incapable of learning by experience. His soft heart revolted at the thought of keeping Sekhomo in banishment, and after exacting a promise from him that he would keep the peace, he recalled him to Shoshong, when he very soon resumed his old devices. First of all he promoted dissension between the two brothers, by awarding Khamane not only the cattle taken from Matsheng, but by assigning him a village of the Manansas, a people of the Albert country, the mountain district south of the Victoria Falls. Khamane unfortunately suffered himself to be beguiled by his father’s wiliness; his ambition to secure the sovereign power led him to turn a deaf ear to Khame’s representations, neither would he be swayed by the remonstrances of Mr. Mackenzie, who tried hard to bring about such a good understanding as might promise a lasting peace in the land.

To avoid further collision, Khame now migrated with a very considerable proportion of the Shoshong population, settling on the River Zooga, in the territory of the western Bamangwatos, where he was received with much cordiality and regarded with esteem and affection by the Batowanas. Unfortunately his people began to be decimated by fever, so that before long he had no alternative but to make his way back to his own country.

Such was the state of affairs on my first arrival at Shoshong.

My first concern now was to replenish my stock of provisions, which was very low. I found this a much more difficult matter than I expected, and it was only by Mr. Mackenzie’s assistance that I was able to procure the simplest and most indispensable articles. It was of itself a difficulty quite enough to make me renounce all intention of extending my journey as far as the Zooga, or Botletle.

On the 9th, I was favoured with a visit from the king and his linyakas, an honour subsequently repeated so often as to become a positive nuisance, as henceforward, so long as we stayed in the place, we had to receive his majesty and his council of “black crows” once a day, and occasionally twice. When he arrived, Sekhomo would keep on shaking my hand, while his factotum, who could speak Dutch, would be perpetually begging for something in his master’s name. The king at other times would stand with his arms akimbo, his myrmidons squatting around him in a semicircle and imitating everything he did; if he laughed, they laughed; if he gaped, they gaped; if he yawned, they yawned; and one day, when his majesty burnt his mouth with some tea that was too hot, they all puckered up their faces as if they likewise were experiencing the pain; when he turned to go home, they rose and followed him in single file, like a flock of geese.

One day I received a visit from a travelling Dutch hunter, who was returning with his family from a six months’ excursion in the Zooga and Mababi districts; during that time he had killed twenty-one elephants and fifteen ostriches. He recounted two interesting adventures that he had with lions, in one of which his little son had played quite an heroic part. His object in coming to me now was to consult me professionally, as three of his children were lying ill with intermittent fever.

According to Mr. Mackenzie’s estimate, Sekhomo’s actual revenue was equivalent to about 3000l. a year, and consisted of cattle, ivory, ostrich-feathers, and skins. He had no state-expenditure whatever. The free Bamangwatos were allowed the produce of their herds, such ostrich-feathers as were of inferior quality, and one tusk of every elephant that they killed.

Throughout our stay in Shoshong the downpour of rain was almost incessant; nevertheless, our waggon was constantly besieged by a crowd of visitors and workpeople, so that quite a brisk trade was carried on; this, on one occasion, was slightly interrupted by our bullocks becoming suddenly restive.

In the midst of the general peace the population was thrown one morning into a state of disturbance by the intelligence that hostile Matabele were on their way to the place. The residents were seized with a panic, the king came hurrying down to me in a state of excitement, and borrowed one of my guns, which, as I might have expected, I had considerable difficulty in getting back again. He showed me his palladium, an amulet made of a lion’s claw, which was supposed to render him invulnerable; he had at once given orders that his people should betake themselves to the heights overhanging the town. Everybody, therefore, with all speed, was collecting his few effects and preparing to drive the sheep and cows to the hills. The state of confusion reached its height when the report of fire-arms was heard close outside the town, but although it was soon ascertained that the shots had only been fired at a stray hyæna, it was long before the apprehension could be allayed that the Matabele were commencing an assault. Next day a Boer hunter from the western Matabele country, a son of the renowned elephant-hunter Pit Jacobs, who resides on the Tati River, came into the place, and assured the people that there was not the least foundation for their alarm; but so completely had the impression of their danger got possession of them that his representations received no credit whatever, and even the European traders began to take measures for defence. Under the circumstances, Mr. Mackenzie advised me to take my departure as quickly as I could, as although there was nothing likely to happen to compromise my personal safety, there was no answering for the security of my property.

When Sekhomo heard that we were going away, he expressed his regret that we, whom he regarded as his friends, should be forsaking him in his trouble. As a parting gift I gave him a blue woollen dress for one of his seven wives, and he in return presented me with a bundle of grey ostrich-feathers.

In no other native town throughout my journey did I succeed so well as here in making additions to my ethnographical collection. The resident traders showed some annoyance at my proceedings, but I managed to exchange nearly all the goods I had in my waggon for various objects of local handicraft. I obtained a great many assegais and hatchets, some daggers, knives, kiris, and sticks, wooden pillows, pots, pans, spoons, magic dice of various materials, as well as a large variety of snuff-boxes, gourd-vessels, articles for the toilet, ornaments, aprons, cups, dolls, and toys made of clay. Perhaps the most noteworthy amongst my acquisitions were some of Sekhomo’s war and rain drums, a little ivory fetish, some kiris made of rhinoceros horn, and several whistles. I bartered away some of my skins of pallah-antelopes, leopards, lynxes, and caracals, and for a small extra payment had some of them back again after they had been converted into garments. The Bamangwato workmanship differs very little from that of all other Bechuana tribes; their huts, though somewhat smaller and more slightly built, are most like those of the Barolongs, but they have larger corn-bins of unbaked clay than any I saw elsewhere.

Nor did my naturalist’s collection fail to gain some curious contributions. Amongst the lizards I found a beautiful striped sort, with a metallic lustre of brown, dark green, and blue; and some of other kinds, without stripes, that seemed particularly tame.

Before describing my return journey, I will append some further details of Bechuana customs to those which I have given in the previous chapter.

As a rule a heathen Bechuana has but one wife, though the more well-to-do not unfrequently have two; the number allowed to the sub-chieftains varies from three to six; the kings being permitted to have more, although not so many as those in the Marutse empire. A man of competent means presents his newly-married wife with several head of sheep or oxen.

On entering a town, a traveller picks up some of the stones in his path, and after throwing them into a bush, or laying them in a forked branch of a tree, breathes a prayer that he may reach the end of his journey in safety.

The skin, horns, or flesh of a sacred animal, such as the duykerbock among the Bamangwatos or the crocodile among the Bakuenas, are not allowed to be touched.

An owl, sitting upon a hut, is considered of evil omen; and the linyakas are called in to purify the spot that has been defiled by the touch of the bird.

An animal observed to do anything that according to Bechuana notions is unusual, is at once considered dangerous, and must be either killed or submitted to the treatment of a linyaka. For instance, if a goat should spring upon a housetop, it would be immediately struck with an assegai; or if a cow in a cattle-kraal should persist in lashing the ground with its tail, it would be pronounced not to be an ordinary cow, but would be considered “tiba,” and as such sure to bring disaster, disease, or death upon its owners. A rich man would forthwith have the animal put to death; but a poor man is permitted to sell it either to a white man, or to one of another tribe. It is only in cases of this kind that a Bechuana parts with his cows at all.

Ordinarily no woman is allowed to touch either a cow or a bullock; the tending of cattle, except in Hottentot families, being always assigned to boys and men.

As I have already implied, the Bechuana form of government is to a certain extent constitutional; all legislation or decisions of public importance having to be discussed in the “pitsho” or assembly-house; it must be acknowledged, however, that in most cases, especially those in which the king has any influence with the sub-chiefs, every question is settled by a foregone conclusion. As with other Bantu peoples, the king (the morena or koshi) is practically paramount in all public functions; the chiefs that are associated with him belonging either to his own tribe or being such as have fled to him for protection, or have obtained leave to settle in his land. Khatsisive and the chiefs of the Manupi and western Baharutse may be cited as examples of this; they occupy separate villages, at divers distances apart, some of them lying close together and others being a considerable way from the royal residence. Wherever they are, each of these villages has a small enclosure which represents the kotla, and where the matters to be discussed in the royal kotla are submitted to preliminary debate; and when the king wants to gather a general concourse of chiefs for important business he sends a messenger, who lays a bough of a tree in the enclosure, which is understood to be a summons.

When war is contemplated, the council is generally held in the outskirts of the town in preference to the kotla, as being less likely to be overheard; the name given to such a council is “letshulo,” the same that is used for the hunt instituted by the linyakas for the purpose of procuring rain.

Under the presidency of their chiefs all the inhabitants of a village are at liberty to attend the council, and as every minute circumstance is discussed with the most unlimited freedom the clatter of voices is often something extraordinary.

When a meeting has been called to administer justice, it must be confessed that the first thing taken into account is whether the accused is a favourite at court; in that case, as often as not, he is allowed to depart scot free. When a theft has been committed, a royal herald is sent through the town, who at once announces the fact, and declares the king’s intention to punish the offender; the threat, more often than not, has the effect of inducing the culprit to lay the stolen goods under cover of night in some public place, whence they may be restored to their owner. Very frequently the services of the linyakas are called in, the magic dice are thrown, and other devices adopted to detect the offender.

I may mention one of the linyakas’ modes of operation in these cases. After a full investigation of the matter, all the parties suspected are summoned to the kotla. The linyaka places them in a circle and walks round them several times, monotoning as he goes, “The thief who has done this deed must die to-day.” He next sends for a bowl of maize-pap, which he doles out with a wooden spoon, saying over every spoonful, “The thief that swallows this pap shall die to-day.” This done, he proceeds to make a careful scrutiny of each separate countenance, and then retires to throw his mysterious dice. In a short time he cries aloud, “I have found the thief!” Going once more round the circle, he compels every one in succession to open his mouth, the result ordinarily being that all but one has swallowed the mouthful. In his fear of bringing the curse of death upon himself, the culprit has retained the pap in his mouth, intending to spit it out at the first chance, the precaution he uses of course revealing his guilt.

A criminal on his first conviction of theft has to restore double or fourfold what he has stolen; on being repeatedly convicted he is sentenced to have the tips of his fingers scalded off; an incorrigible offender has to lose the whole of his hand. Murder is usually considered a capital offence; but a man under sentence of death may redeem his life by paying a sum of money, or its equivalent in kind, to the victim’s next-of-kin.

During the time of Matsheng’s rule a singular case occurred of a man killing his brother from avarice. The aged father had announced his intention of leaving the bulk of his property to his elder son, and the younger determined to get rid of his brother, hoping thereby to inherit the whole. “Brother,” he said to him one day, “did you not hear our father say that the linyaka wanted a monkey’s skin to restore him the use of his limbs? Will you go with me to the hills and shoot a monkey?” The elder brother acquiesced, and they started off together. An hour brought them to the foot of the rise, when the younger suggested that it would be better for them to begin to scour the hill from opposite directions, a proposition to which the elder brother readily assented. An old woman was gathering berries on the hill, and observing the peculiarity of the young man’s movements could not help suspecting that he intended some mischief, and following him unperceived saw that, instead of going straight up the hill, he crept round to the right and as soon as he came within sight of his brother, took deliberate aim and shot him dead. In pretended consternation, he returned to the town, relating how by miserable misadventure he had shot his poor brother, supposing him to be an ape in the bushwood. The old woman hurried to Matsheng and gave her evidence as to the real facts of the case so clearly, that instead of furthering his scheme to become his father’s heir, the wretch was by the king’s order carried back to the scene of his crime, and was there himself shot with his brother’s gun.

Among other customs which seem to belong more or less to all the Bantu tribes with whom I came in contact, there are some which remind us of the Mosaic law. Held as of the highest importance by the heathen Bechuana is the rite of circumcision; until it has been submitted to, no youth is supposed to have arrived at man’s estate, and no woman is considered of marriageable age. The ceremony, however, does not universally or necessarily indicate the attainment of a state of maturity, as is the case with the breaking off of the front teeth by the Matongas and Mashukulumbe; it is rather an initiation into the system of hardening which every youth is required to undergo before he is counted worthy of the titles of “mona” or “ra” which betoken a man’s estate.

Called the “boguera,” the observance is put into force upon boys after they have reached their ninth year. The ceremony is performed at intervals varying from two to five years, according to the extent of a tribe; the period of its exactment being held to be a time of great festivity in the towns. If the boys do not present themselves voluntarily, they are brought under compulsion, and as a preparatory office they are smeared all over with a solution of chalk; the girls wear nothing but belts made of pieces of reed or aprons of genets’ tails, their breasts and faces being also whitened with chalk. The solemnization of the rite takes place outside the town, old men acting as operators with the boys and old women with the girls.

The boguera happened to be celebrated at the time of my visit to Shoshong, so that I had the best opportunity of becoming acquainted with its details. Singing as they go, the young people of both sexes, accompanied by the linyakas, proceed beyond the town to the appointed spot, where the boys are put through a drill in manly exercises, and the girls are formally initiated into domestic duties, such as carrying wood and fetching water; throughout their performances they keep up their monotonous chant; and as their figures are all white by the application of chalk, nothing can be imagined much more grotesque than the appearance they present as they go through their series of gymnastics.

The boys are next marched off in detachments to the kotla, where they have all to be beaten with rods. Bare of all clothing, except their little girdle and their sandals, which they are permitted to hold in their hands, they are placed in two rows, back to back, and made to kneel down whilst a man, generally their next-of-kin, stands in front of each and proceeds to deliver his lashes, which the lads parry as best they can by the dexterous manipulation of the sandals; they are required to keep on singing, and to raise each foot alternately, marking the measure of the chant.

All the youths who submit to the boguera at one time are formed into a company, and the more sons a Bechuana can bring to the ceremony, the prouder he is. A chief will generally try to introduce a son of his own or of a near relative to take command of the troop, and an esprit de corps is frequently excited which sometimes has a beneficial effect upon the quarrels that arise at court. The friendship thus formed often remains unbroken, in spite of the commander avowing himself a Christian and being baptized.

The girls, so long as the ceremonial lasts, are not allowed to sleep; to keep them awake they are made to spend the night sitting upon wooden corn-pounders, of which the equilibrium is so unstable that the first attempt to get a wink of sleep sends the damsel toppling over.