Chapter VI

Tuys orders me to remain in camp during the celebration--I visit the royal kraal--Feasting, dancing, and combats to the death--Butchery of young women--Buno and Tuys wrestle for gold--How Tuys became rich--A "legal execution" in Swaziland--The unfaithful wife expiates her sin--How Tuys shoots--Father gathers information by mental suggestion.

I finally returned to our camp much upset by the orgy of slaughter and sorry that I had forced Tuys to take me with him on this trip. He remained with Buno until time for supper and then came into camp to eat. I noticed that, although he was ordinarily a big eater, Tuys had little appetite that night. However, he drank quite heavily and left soon after dusk with a number of bottles of gin. As he went he advised me to remain in camp.

"You are not used to this country, lad," he said, roughly but kindly. "To-night there will be a big celebration and much drunkenness. When the king is drinking he is likely to be careless and things may happen that you would not like to remember. You stay in camp and I'll be back before long."

I promised Tuys to do as he asked, in spite of the fact that I was very curious to see what might take place. As night came on hundreds of fires were lighted and I could hear the Swazis beginning to sing. Every now and then shouts reached us, and there seemed to be every indication that it would be a wild night. Curiosity impelled me to send Sibijaan out on a scouting expedition. He was also eaten up with curiosity, but wanted me to come along. However, I still remembered my promise to Tuys and would not go.

After a little Sibijaan returned, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Thousands and thousands of warriors are at the royal kraal," he announced. "There are great fires everywhere and every one is drinking tswala. The warriors are dancing and the king's fire is the biggest of all. The witch-doctors are there, too, and are going to make magic to-night!"

I was intensely interested in all this. It seemed a shame that I was going to miss it. On second thoughts I decided that I was foolish to have made the long trek into Zombode if I did not see the whole celebration. I wanted to be able to tell those at home all about it, so I decided to sneak out of camp and watch a while.

Playing at war had taught me to hide as much as possible, and soon I slipped out of the tent and started for the royal kraal. There seemed to be thousands of natives all about me, each band gathered around a fire. They were dancing and singing and eating, particularly eating. The Swazi always eats whenever possible, and a number of cattle had been slaughtered to provide a feast in honor of Oom Tuys.

I crept closer to the royal kraal and soon could see the glow from the king's fire. It was surrounded by hundreds of huts and many kraals, but I managed to get close enough to see the flames. A dense mass of warriors were on three sides of the fire, and on the other I could discern Buno and Tuys. All the warriors were dancing and chanting, and it was an awe-inspiring sight. In a little while the dancing stopped and two warriors sprang before the king and began to fight. I was close enough to see their actions and hear the blows when knob-kerrie struck shield with a hollow thump.

The fight was short. One suddenly fell, struck down with a cunning blow from his opponent's knob-kerrie, and a second later I saw the winner stab the prostrate figure again and again with his assegai. A moment later another pair fought, and this battle ended as did the other with the death of the loser. There were several more fights, each ending fatally. At each victory wild shouts would go up from the bloodthirsty audience. For a small boy it was a thrilling show.

After the last combat there was a pause. Soon the murmuring of the expectant thousands died down and I felt that they were waiting for more excitement. A moment later a number of girls, all naked, were led out from behind the royal hut. They were lined up in front of Buno and Tuys, and I could see the witch-doctor talking to the king. This lasted a few minutes and then the former began to dance, doing what might be called the "Dance of Death."

Suddenly he halted, then dived at one of the girls and threw her roughly to her knees. The others fell back hurriedly and several warriors caught hold of the girl and stretched her on the ground. Another man joined the group and the girl began to shriek, her voice seeming to echo from hut to hut. It was a shriek of utter despair, and I could feel myself tremble.

The man stood high above the girl and raised his right hand above his head. I could see the flash of steel, for he held a great curved knife. A moment he stood thus, the girl shrieking all the while. The crowd seemed to catch its breath and I felt as though I should choke. Down flashed the knife, and the victim shrieked louder and more shrilly than ever. It was enough! I turned and fled blindly. I don't know how I got there, but I blundered into camp shaking like a leaf and threw myself on my blankets.

Next morning Tuys told me, quite casually, that Buno had entertained him by having some girls cut open while they still lived. I then knew that I had not been dreaming. Despite Tuys's advice, I had seen something I "would not like to remember." Tuys told me of other things that happened at the celebration, and I am thankful I did not see them. They cannot be told, but for utter cruelty, cruelty of the most depraved and bestial kind, they are without equal.

That day only the women were about until nearly noon. The king and his warriors were sleeping off the debauch of the night before. Shortly after midday Tuys took me with him to the royal kraal, where we found Buno showing little evil effects of the orgy. I noticed that Tuys wore his great leather hunting-coat with wide pockets, and I was surprised at this because it was a warm day. However, I soon learned the reason.

In war the Swazis fight after a method all their own. The opposing impis, or regiments, draw up on either side of the battlefield and after much dancing, yelling of battle-cries, and other excitement, individual warriors dash into the middle-ground challenging individual opponents from the other side. These meet and fight it out to the death. The combats are divided into three phases. The first consists of fighting with the long knob-kerrie; the second, with the short knob-kerrie; and the final, which is the death blow, with the short spear]

He acted as Regent to the Swazi nation]

Buno was very agreeable and even joked with me about my poor shooting of the day before. He little knew how proud I was that I had shot badly. Tuys and he were on the best of terms and joked with one another, each boasting of his strength. Finally Buno ended the pleasantries with a challenge.

"Let us go to the rock, Oom Tuys," he said, "and we'll soon see who is the strongest man in Swaziland. This time I know I can throw you, and you will make small profit out of this trip."

"That remains to be seen, O King," Tuys warned him. "I feel stronger than ever to-day, but it seems to me that you are quite shaky. Don't you think you'd better wait a day or two before tackling me?"

"No, no! Now is the time!" declared Buno most emphatically. "If you cannot wrestle any better than you shot yesterday, I shall have little trouble in throwing you."

This was all very interesting to me. I felt that I would like to be big enough to wrestle Buno and break his neck. However, he and Tuys seemed to be very joyful over the coming match and there was no ill feeling between them.

After Tuys and Buno had had several drinks, we all started out for the rock. I had heard of this rock before. It was a great flat-topped slab on which Buno was accustomed to sleep during the hottest hours of the day. The Swazis call it "The King's Couch," and Buno would bask on it while the sun blazed down on his naked body with all the fire of mid-summer.

Tuys had several of his servants with him, each one carrying a small but very heavy canvas sack. I asked him what these were, but he told me to wait and I would see. The rock was about a quarter of a mile from the royal kraal, and we soon reached it.

Then came the unexpected, which invariably happened where Tuys was concerned. We climbed upon the rock and while Buno and the rest of us looked on, Oom Tuys slit the canvas sacks and poured two thousand sovereigns on the rock!

The gold made quite a large pile and shone brightly in the warm sun. Tuys counted it, with Buno seeming to keep careful check on him. Finally the count was finished and they agreed that it was all there--two thousand glittering gold pieces!

"Now we shall wrestle for it," said Buno, pointing to the gold. "We'll soon see who is the better man, who is the strongest man in Swaziland. Come on, Oom Tuys!"

Tuys waved to me to get off the rock, and we jumped down to the ground. It was, perhaps, the strangest sight I had yet seen. There stood those two great men, waiting for an opportunity to get a favorable grip. Presently they began to circle round and round, each trying to catch hold of the other. The pile of gold lay between them.

Suddenly Buno rushed at Tuys. Tuys stepped to one side and jostled him as he went by. Without changing position, Tuys reached down and grabbed up two handfuls of gold. He was shoving it into the pockets of his leather coat when Buno was upon him. Buno forced him back and grabbed up some of the gold, which he shoved into his loin-cloth.

They were very strong men and the wrestling was the roughest imaginable. Each time one gained an advantage he would grab for the gold. I soon saw that Tuys was getting the better of it. His pockets were sagging with gold, while Buno, being practically naked, had no place to store what he was able to seize. The contest finally ended with both flat on the rock, locked in each other's arms. They tussled for a time and, as neither could gain the advantage, decided to quit. Both were exhausted and hardly able to get to their feet. However, they were the best of friends, although Tuys had most of the gold.

Then I understood the saying among the Boers that Tuys would soon be a rich man if Oom Paul continued to send him with the monthly payments to King Buno.

There was only a small celebration that night, although Tuys spent the evening with the king and much gin was drunk. Tuys returned early to camp and told me that we would visit the Place of Execution the next day and then return to Rietvlei. I went to sleep full of anticipation.

We broke camp early next morning. I had expected that we would accompany Buno to the cliff beyond Sheba's Breasts, but Tuys told me that the king and his impi had left during the night. All Swazis walk whenever they travel, keeping up a steady pace that covers much ground. When we started for the Place of Execution, Buno and his warriors were at least fifteen or twenty miles ahead of us.

Tuys gave orders that our party should camp in the Valley of Heaven while he and I pushed on and caught up with the king. It was nearly noon before we saw them climbing the slopes of Sheba's Breasts. There seemed to be several thousand in the king's party. In a little while, by hard riding, we caught up with them. There were two full impis, in their midst a number of naked savages without arms or headdresses. I asked Tuys about these men.

"They are prisoners," he informed me. "We are going to see them die. That is why we are climbing these infernal hills. Beyond Sheba's Breasts we have another mountain to climb and then we shall reach the Place of Execution. Let's hurry and catch Buno!"

We found the king at the head of his impis, accompanied by several of the indunas, striding along over ground that gave even our horses trouble. He greeted Tuys affectionately as usual and had a pleasant word for me.

Tuys asked him why the prisoners were going to be executed.

"They have had their trial," he said, "and they are all guilty. They must die! I have said it!"

That seemed to settle the matter, and I asked Tuys about the trial and how it had taken place. From his long and intimate acquaintance with Swaziland and its customs he was able to tell me all I needed to know.

"Every moon there is a court at Zombode," he informed me. "The indunas are the jury and decide whether the prisoner is guilty or not. Prisoners are brought before them charged with stealing, non-payment of debts, disloyalty to the king, and countless other things, including witchcraft. When the indunas have heard a case they bring in a verdict of guilty or innocent, and then the king passes sentence. My friend, Buno, always decides that death is the proper punishment, and allows the person bringing the charge to take the possessions of the prisoner after he has had first pick. Many of those who will be executed to-day would only receive a whipping if they were in our country, instead of Swaziland. But Buno has no sympathy with law-breakers and I think he rather enjoys the executions."

After passing Sheba's Breasts we went down a steep trail to a little valley, and then climbed the sharp ascent to the Place of Execution. From the Breasts to the top of the cliff is almost a two-hour trek. On the top is a small plateau. From this to the bottom is a sheer drop of more than five hundred feet. At the bottom is a short slope of broken rock.

The impis were drawn up in column facing the edge, with Buno and his indunas in front. We had left our horses at the top of the trail and now joined the king's party. After pacing up and down for a few moments Buno turned and addressed his warriors. He told them that the prisoners had forfeited their lives on account of their wickedness and it was only just that they should die. He ended in this fashion:

"But the king is merciful. These jackals ought to be killed by torture. Instead, I, Buno the King, have decreed that they shall die after the time-honored custom of our people!"

While he spoke I watched the prisoners. There were about forty of them, and every one held his head high, as though not afraid to die. Each bore himself proudly, more like a victor than one about to die a fearful death.

When Buno had finished there was a slight stir among them and one was left standing alone. With his eyes straight in front of him, his body erect, he walked swiftly forward. In a second he had reached the edge. Throwing up his arms, he leaped forward and was gone!

One after another the others followed. There was no hesitation, no drawing back. It was terrible, yet glorious! These savages, with no promise of a here-after which included a Valhalla or Heaven, went to their death like heroes.

When the last one had gone the silent tension was broken by the rustling of shields and shuffling of feet. The king then felt impelled to make another address. He had got as far as, "Thus do I, the king, destroy the enemies of my people--" when there came a violent commotion and a woman's cry.

Through the warriors dashed a young and handsome woman. She wore nothing, and in that brief moment I could see from the lines in her face that she had suffered much.

Tuys and the king leaped forward to intercept her, but were too late. She threw up her hands with a shriek and went over the edge!

Tuys and I were much excited by this, but Buno and his indunas seemed to be rather annoyed. Buno explained that women had done this before and seemed to regard their action as a desecration of the Place of Execution. After many questions Tuys found out all about it and explained to me.

"This was new to me," he said, as we climbed down from the cliff, "and I thought I knew all there was to know about the Swazis. But I never before heard about women throwing themselves off the Place of Execution.

"Mzaan Bakoor, this is how it is. You know the Swazis are very strict with their women. If a wife, no matter if she be one of thirty or forty wives, has anything to do with any man but her husband, her life is forfeited. Also the child, if there be one, must die. If there is no child, she dies alone. It is the husband's right to kill the unfaithful wife. If he does so, no one has anything to say and he is not held for murder. But he can do worse than kill his wife. He can refuse to kill her, and then she becomes an outcast and the prey of any one. She may even be killed by her people, for there have been cases where Swazi women have killed an unfaithful wife when the husband refused to slay her.

"Always, if she can escape, the woman will take to the hills. There her condition is as bad as it can be. She has to live on berries and what game she can catch, and her life is miserable. She is an outcast, and men who are caught going to her in the hills share her degradation.

"This woman who died to-day was the youngest wife of a little chief who refused to kill her when he found that she was faithless. She escaped to the hills some weeks ago and lived the life of a hunted beast. Finally she must have made up her mind to end it all. It is fortunate for her that she had not been taught by the missionaries that she had a soul!"

That is the moral code of Swaziland. In all the years I have known the Swazis I have never heard of its being broken without the death penalty. However, civilization will some day reach into Swaziland and then this code will disappear. That will be the end of the Swazis.

We reached camp to find the long shadows of the setting sun dropping across the Valley of Heaven. Buno bade Tuys an affectionate farewell and the impis gave us the royal salute as they started up the hill for Lebombo.

This was the first time I saw King Buno, and he left me memories that nothing can ever efface. I saw him again next year and was in Lebombo when he died and Queen Labotsibeni was appointed regent.

Nothing much happened on our return journey to the Valley of Reeds, except that Oom Tuys showed me how he could shoot. During the second day's trek we ran up on the high veldt for a space and jumped some springbok. They sprang up suddenly out of the brown grass, as they always do, and went off like a streak of light.

After one or two had escaped, Tuys told me to kill the next.

"Let's see if you can shoot like a Boer," he said, bantering me. "Let's see if you would starve to death if you were lost on the veldt!"

A few moments later I had my chance. My Mauser rested across my saddle when the antelope jumped, and a second later I blazed away. I made three perfectly clean misses. Looking back, I realize that the heavy military rifle was too much for me--it was too weighty.

Tuys said: "Poor Mzaan Bakoor, you will die hungry. Now watch me get the next!"

And he did. His rifle was in its sheath, barrel under his leg and stock alongside the pommel of the saddle. I never saw quicker action. The unlucky springbok seemed to rise with the motion of Tuys's arm as he snapped his Mauser out of its case to his shoulder, all in one motion. On its fourth or fifth jump the antelope met the dum-dum bullet and dropped. Its back was broken and the knife did the rest.

"That is the way a Boer shoots!" Tuys boasted. "If you miss your meat, you go hungry. Your rifle must follow the springbok when he jumps, and you get him at the top of his leap. He cannot change direction in the air and you pull your trigger softly so that your aim is not broken. If you jerk, as you did a minute ago, you miss. Remember that, lad!"

As we rode into Rietvlei on the last day Tuys gave me a serious talking to. He was worried over what I had seen at Lebombo.

"You know that we have seen some things at Buno's kraal that must not be told," he cautioned me. "The British, and even our own people, would be much excited if they heard that you had given a rifle to Buno. They would hold you and me accountable for the men he killed in the shooting match. Also, they would ask many questions about the women who were killed that night I made you stay in camp. They would think that the gin we gave Buno made him do these things, and we would have much trouble.

"You must not know anything about these things. When you tell about your trip, you must only tell things that will not make trouble. If you don't, I will never take you with me again. What's more, I'll tell Buno, and he will kill you if you ever go to Swaziland again!

"Slim Gert will ask you questions, and your mother, too. If any of your brothers are at home, they will want to know about your trip. Now remember, you must only tell the things that are safe to tell."

He also advised me to threaten Sibijaan with everything under the sun if he talked too much. His own servants he was not afraid of--they had been with him before and knew what would happen to them if they talked. I told Sibijaan what to expect if he talked, and he promised to tell nothing. He kept his promise about as well as might have been expected of a kaffir.

Mother and father were at home when we reached Rietvlei, and were very glad to see me back. I was glad to again look out on the peaceful green fields of our wonderful farm, but keenly disappointed that I dared not give a true account of our adventures. It was some story for a small boy to have to bottle up!

After supper my father sent for me, and I went to his office in the wing of the house which he used for administrative work. I had my doubts about the interview that I knew was about to take place, because my father has a way of getting the truth when he wants it. He is not known as "Slim Gert" for nothing.

On the top of his desk lay a sjambok, or rawhide whip. It caught my eye and he saw me look at it.

"Now, son, tell me about your trip," he said. "What did you see? What happened? Yesterday a Swazi came here and said that Buno had made a celebration for Tuys and you." As he asked the question his keen eyes searched my soul.

I was in an awful pickle. If I told the truth, Tuys would be my enemy for life. If I lied to my father, he would never forgive me and I'd hate myself forever! The cruel whip did not enter into my calculations, because my father never struck us. It could not concern me.

I hesitated for a moment only and then sacrificed my further chances of going with Oom Tuys to Swaziland. I told the truth. Father listened and seemed to be checking up what I said. He asked one or two questions which refreshed my memory, and I told him everything.

"Thank you for so accurate an account, son," he said, when I had finished. "I wanted to be sure that what I had heard was so. Sibijaan was here a little while ago and--" He picked up the whip and tossed it into a drawer.

Next day I saw Sibijaan. I asked him why he had told father about the killings at Lebombo.

"Ou Baas holds the sjambok in his hand when he talks to me," he said quite simply. "He knew lots about Lebombo already. I'd sooner be killed by Oom Tuys some day than by your father now. I could not lie to Ou Baas."

Neither could I, but nevertheless I upbraided Sibijaan for breaking the promise he had made to me that he would not tell about our trip. In fact, I consoled myself for losing my further chances of visiting Swaziland with Oom Tuys by giving Sibijaan a good beating.

He could fight, but was not as strong as I, and the thrashing made no difference in our friendship. Of course the fight took place in private; it would never have done to let our impi know that we had fallen out for even a moment.

Later I found out that father had received some pointed enquiries from the government in regard to Oom Tuys's activities in Swaziland. He wanted to know first hand, if possible, what the "White King of Swaziland" really did when he made his periodical trips to Buno's kraal. The information, however, was only for his own benefit, since he would not betray one of our people.

A month later Oom Tuys stopped at Rietvlei as usual before making his regular trip to Lebombo. That night I was with father when he sat talking with him. I feared that father would ask questions about our trip, but he approached the subject in quite another way.

"I have heard from various kaffirs that your last trip to Swaziland was a bad business," he said to Tuys. "The government also has asked me about it. Of course I know nothing, since you have told me nothing," and he eyed Tuys keenly.

"They say it was a bad business?" Tuys remarked in a blustering way. "Well, they don't know what they're talking about! Buno was only happy to receive the tribute and he may have taken a little too much gin. That's about all there was to it. Who the devil are those busybodies who don't mind their own business?"

Then he looked at me, but I met him eye to eye. I had expected the encounter and was ready for him. Father, however, realizing the situation, began talking again.

"Kaffirs will lie," he said, "and there have been a number of Swazis here during the last month. Of course I don't believe them, but some of the officials who have to create work to hold their jobs have been asking questions."

"Tell them to go to Swaziland and find out," said Tuys, laughing heartily. "They daren't go. If they did, they'd never come back. Buno would answer them, and they wouldn't worry about making any long-winded reports when he had done with them!"

Tuys knew that he was the only white man who dared enter Swaziland then. He also knew that the stories told by kaffirs did not carry much weight and would never be accepted for action by the government.

"It would be well, Tuys," father said at the end of the talk, "if you would induce Buno not to make so much noise when he gives his next party in your honor. His hospitality is too bloody to be healthy for either you or him."

Tuys did not question me about the matter when he saw me alone next morning. He evidently refused to entertain the thought that I might have betrayed him. If I had not met his eye the night before, however, he would have been sure I was guilty. He did not comment on the matter, and I know now that, in his daredevil way, he did not lose any sleep over it. In those days, too, it must be remembered that it did not cause much stir when a native chief killed a few of his followers. It was much more serious if he killed the men of another chief, since this might mean war and wars were always disturbing.

Tuys had nothing to say on his return from Swaziland, but it must have been a successful trip for I saw him hand my father a heavy canvas sack to put in his safe until morning. He must have done well in the royal wrestling match.