The White Hecatomb, and Other Stories. W. C. Scully

last words? Be a father to Songoza. Advise him. He is young and headstrong—perhaps the years may bring him wisdom. Bear with him for the sake of my people, to whom I have tried to be a father.”

      “I will bear with a lot for your sake,” said the Magistrate. “Now good-bye, old friend. I know you are brave, and that you fear nothing for yourself. You will be all right—wherever you go to. I will try and influence Songoza for good, and I will protect your little son Gqomisa. Good-bye … old friend …”

      The Sepulture

      The old chief died next morning just as the day was breaking. Immediately after his death the women and most of the men left the hut and dispersed silently. No one was allowed to enter the hut in which the body lay, and all inquiries were answered with the statement, “The chief is very near death,” or “Our father is about to draw his last breath.” As day wore on a round pit, three feet in diameter and about six feet deep, was dug on a ridge which overhung the “great place.” Every one then knew that the chief was no more, but custom forbade the fact of his death to be acknowledged.

      At the same time another excavation was being secretly dug deep in the heart of a large forest in an adjoining valley. This was the real grave. Among the more important Bantu clans the last resting-place of the chief is always kept a profound secret. The object of this is to prevent an enemy obtaining the bones and, by their means, working magic against the tribe.

      In the middle of the night, the dead body, with the legs flexed and the knees bound up to the chin, was borne out of the hut by Dogolwana and three other old men. It was carried by means of two poles between which it was slung after the manner of a sedan chair. Avoiding the footpaths, they hurried the dead chief up the side of the mountain, and then plunged into the forest, stumbling over rocks and dead trees in their course. The hoarse bark of the bush-bucks challenging each other echoed across the ravine, the jackals yelled at the stars from the grassy hill-tops, and the brown owls moaned from the tall yellow-wood trees. Every now and then unseen forest creatures would rustle through the undergrowth, or a frightened loorie flutter away, breaking its bright plumage against the branches in the darkness. In the broken fringe of cliff over the river-way a leopard made a dash at a troop of sleeping baboons which, having heard the alarm-call of the sentinel, darted away and escaped with hoarse roarings.

      When the bearers paused to rest, as they frequently did, the forest seemed full of awful whisperings. It contained the graves of the dead chief’s ancestors—secret places known to no living man. It seemed to the bearers as if the spirits of the dead were abroad in the rustling darkness, mustering to welcome a long-waited-for companion—a son and subject made peer by the patent of death.

      They found the open grave. A pit had been sunk, and a large, dome-shaped excavation made in its side. Dogolwana had already been chosen for the awful but honourable task of entering this chamber after the body had been placed there, and finally disposing of the latter for its long rest. The Kafirs have the most intense horror of a dead body, and the man who enters the grave-chamber with a dead chief becomes a chief himself immediately upon emerging—so highly is the dead esteemed.

      The body of Umsoala was placed on a mat, in a sitting posture, facing the “great place,” where the herd of black cattle that he had loved so well were kraaled every night. The left hand had been bound across the breast, with the open palm inwards. The right hand and arm had been allowed to stiffen in a flexed position, and in the hand a spear was placed, the handle resting on the ground and the blade pointing upwards. At his side were an earthen pot, a calabash, and a wooden pillow.

      The face of the lateral excavation was then filled up with stones, the builders saying the while in low tones: “Watch over us.”

      “Remember your people in the place to which you have gone.”

      “Do not forget that we are your children.”

      After the building up of the excavation was finished, the grave was filled in with earth, and then bushes and twigs were strewn on it so as to conceal as far as possible all signs of its existence. After this, Dogolwana and his companions separated, and returned to the “great place,” each by a different course.

      Just before day broke, a bright flame suddenly leaped to the sky—the chief’s hut had been set alight in several places at once. Soon a mass of flame-shot smoke climbed into the still morning air, in the form of a massive fiery column with an immense black capital.

      When day broke, old Dogolwana and his companions could be seen just completing the filling in of the other grave, which had been dug on the ridge at the back of the “great place.” Over it they piled heavy stones, and afterwards they dragged bushes up and built a surrounding kraal-fence. Within the enclosure thus formed cattle would be folded for about two years. A small hut was built in the immediate vicinity, and here the watchers of the grave took up their abode. According to native custom these are authorised to beat and rob any stranger coming near the grave. The persons of the watchers are sacred, and they are not subject to actions at law, nor can they be put to death for any crime during the period of their watching. The kraal surrounding the grave is an inviolable sanctuary even for the worst criminals, and the cattle folded there may never be killed, nor can their progeny be in any way disposed of until the very last one of the original cattle has died.

      The Killing of Kèlè

      In due course, Songoza was duly declared chief of the Amagamedse. In an address to the assembled people, the Magistrate highly extolled the old chief, and exhorted his successor to follow Umsoala’s example. Songoza was reticent; he stood with the other sons of the late chief around him, and listened quietly to the Magistrate’s words. The assembly dispersed in silence. It was evident that the memory of the dead man was not held in esteem. As a matter of fact he had of late years rendered himself unpopular by leaning towards civilised methods and ideas, and discouraging the grosser forms of superstition. Songoza was known to be reactionary, but as the tribe would have acknowledged no one else, Government was constrained to recognise him as his late father’s successor.

      Two days afterwards, a messenger came hurrying in from old Dogolwana to report that Songoza had swooped down and driven off the herd of black cattle belonging to little Gqomisa. The Magistrate thereupon sent for Songoza, who, after considerable pressure, consented to return them, so they were restored, under police supervision, to old Dogolwana.

      The country of the Amagamedse was a border territory, and just over its bounds lay the country of the Unonclaba, an independent native state. A few months after the death of Umsoala, Songoza began to profess great friendship for Kèlè, the son of old Dogolwana. There took place no function at Songoza’s “great place” (each chief, on his accession, chooses a “great place” for himself) to which Kèlè was not specially invited, and several of the chief’s cattle were assigned to him to milk, according to the custom known as “ ’Nquoma.”

      Songoza arranged to add to his harem a girl of the Unondaba tribe, the daughter of a petty chief who dwelt about ten miles from the border, and when the first instalment of the “lobola” cattle were sent, Kèlè was one of those selected to take charge of and deliver them. Three men besides Kèlè were sent, namely, Pandule, Sogogo, and Rali.

      Just about this time Songoza’s mother, Manolie, became ill. She lay on a mat and coughed. On the fourth day of her illness her pains became very great, and she kept pressing her hand to her right side and saying that there was fire within her body. After this she wandered in her mind for several days. At intervals she partially regained her senses, and then she kept calling to the chief, her son, to find out who had bewitched her. So Songoza sent men with an ox to Hloba, a renowned witch-doctor, who lived at Xabakaza, with a message asking him to “smell out” the person who had bewitched Manolie.

      Kèlè, with his three companions, started with the “lobola” cattle on the day after the messengers went to Hloba. They crossed the border, and slept at a kraal about five miles from the dwelling of the bride-elect. Here a goat was killed for them, and they feasted late into the night. Next morning they arose, lit a fire, and began cooking the remainder of the goat’s flesh in a