Chapter XV: Satu receives a Title

The King sends for medicine--He is told to apply to St. Catherine--The
King’s promise--Bakula bids farewell to his white friend--King’s
deputy goes with us to Satu’s town--Ceremony of conferring the
title--Killing a leopard--Satu redeems his brother--Releases his
niece from a hateful marriage--A story: "Appearances are sometimes
Deceptive"--A chief asks for Satu’s niece in marriage--Marriage
money is paid--The wedding--Satu gains a new slave.

One day Bakula was chatting with the white man in his house when a head man arrived from his majesty, saying: “The King has many pains in his stomach, and he wants some medicine to stop them. Will you send some?”

“No,” replied the white man, “I will not send him any. For several weeks I attended the King during his severe illness, and immediately on his recovery he, at the request of the padres, went to their church and thanked St. Catherine for his restoration to health. Go and tell him that as he thanked St. Catherine for his recovery, he must now ask St. Catherine for medicine to stop the pains in his stomach.”

The messenger could hardly repress a smile as he said: “That is only fair,” and hurried off to deliver his message.

“Will you not send some medicine?” asked the King’s nephew, who was standing by.

“Yes, perhaps by and by, but not just yet,” replied the white man. “He has eaten too much, and colic is the result. It will not hurt him to bear the gripings for a time; and then I will send him some medicine and advice. You know,” continued the speaker, “that I went at sunrise every morning for five weeks to wash his foul, sloughing sore, and bind it in clean bandages; and he was grateful for all that was done for him, and often said that I had saved his life, and now I want to teach him that these saints who have rotted away to dust generations ago cannot help him.”

By now the messenger returned to say that the King will not go to St. Catherine again if the white man will send him some medicine at once.

To him the missionary replied: “Tell the King he had better wait a little longer before making such a conditional promise. St. Catherine may be busy somewhere else, and cannot come to Congo just now, even for a King. You see, she must have a lot to do in all parts of the world, and as she is only a saint, and not God, she cannot be everywhere at once.”

Off went the man with the message, and this time he could not suppress his laughter.

“Tell the cook-boy to make some hot water quickly,” said the white man to a boy who was squatting near the door.

The King’s nephew, in apologetic tones, said: "The King’s position is a very difficult one. He loves Vianga, Yoani, Bentele, Alli[50] and you very much. You English were the first to bring God’s palaver to him and his people, every day you cure them of their diseases with your medicines, and you teach them all kinds of good ways; but the padres give him bales and bales of cloth and many boxes of beads. You know he is always greedy for trade goods and fine clothes; and these he receives in abundance from the Roman Catholic padres, hence when they asked him to go to their church to thank St. Catherine for his recovery, he was afraid to refuse them, although he believes in his heart what you frequently told him: that God blessed your medicine to his restoration. To show how he loves you English teachers, listen to what happened about a month ago. All the padres went to the King and told him that he was to order all his people to attend their church, and never again to go to your services. They were angry because their church was nearly empty every Sunday. They threatened to leave the town immediately, and that would mean a stoppage of all their presents, if he did not issue the order they requested. The King absolutely refused to command his people to attend either service, and said: ‘They shall be free to go wherever they like.’"

Footnote 50:

Revs. T. J. Comber, John Hartland, W. H. Bentley, and H. E.
Crudgington.

“I have always felt sorry for the trying position of the King,” said the white man, “and fully sympathize with him in his difficulties; but he is, as we say in English, trying to sit on two stools, and that is always very uncomfortable to the sitter, and most irritating to the stools.”

Just then three head men came hurrying into the house to beg again for some medicine, and to promise on behalf of the King that he would never again thank St. Catherine for what she did not, and could not accomplish. So the white man called for the hot water, and, mixing a glass of physic, sent it to the King.

In a short time the man returned with the report that the King felt better directly he drank the medicine.

“What was it you gave him?” he asked of the white man.

“Only some peppermint, hot water and sugar,” replied the missionary. “You tell the King from me,” he continued, “that he is not to eat so much.”

Bakula informed his white friend that he had come to bid him good-bye, for at “cock-crow” in the morning he and his party would be starting back for their town.

“Will you not come and live with me, and let me teach you God’s palaver?” asked the white man of the lad.

“For many reasons,” replied Bakula, “I would like to come and learn to read, write, do carpentry and hear more about God; but this station is a long way from my home, and my family will not let me come so far. My uncle lives in the Ngombe district, and perhaps they will let me go to the mission school there.”

“Well, you can learn there as well as here; but I should have liked you to live with me,” and there was a note of tenderness in the teacher’s voice, and tears were not far from his eyes as he spoke to the lad. And after a quiet talk with my owner about what he had heard at the services, and expressing the hope that they would see each other again soon, the white man and Bakula separated, never to meet again on earth.

Bakula had frequently tried to induce Old Plaited-Beard to have some conversation with the white man, but had failed every time, not through lack of earnestness and persistency on Bakula’s part; but because of the old man’s superstitious fear and hatred of white men. The discussions on the subject had been long and often loud, and when Old Plaited-Beard was unsuccessful in proving his charges of witchcraft against the white man, or failed in proving that the white man bought up dead bodies and sent them to Mputu, he then fell back on another accusation: that the white men had come to steal their country from them.

On one occasion Bakula led the white man towards the place where Old Plaited-Beard was sitting; but no sooner did the superstitious old man see him coming in the distance than he ran into the inner room of the nearest house, and would not come out until he was assured that the white man had gone.

Early next morning Bakula and his party, accompanied by Kapitau and some followers, started on their return journey. On the road Old Plaited-Beard and the Kapitau had long talks, and although the prejudiced views of the old man were received with coldness by the King’s deputy, yet in one point they agreed, and that was “that the white man would rob them of their country and make them all slaves.”[51]

Footnote 51:

See note 40, p. 353.

Wherever we stayed for a night the people paid most humble homage to Kapitau, as representing the King, and supplied him with plenty of food and palm-wine; consequently every evening was spent in feasting and drinking, and there was scarcely a night that the elders of the party went to bed sober.

On arriving at Satu’s town Kapitau and his companions received a great ovation. The people crowded the road to set eyes on the man who had been sent by the great King of Congo to confer a title on their own chief. They vied with each other in shouting, clapping, and beating their mouths. Drums were thumped, ivory horns blown, and guns fired; and the din was such that it seemed more like pandemonium let loose for a riot than a friendly welcome to an honoured visitor and guest. To show due respect to the King’s deputy a good house was given him, and an abundant supply of food. In two or three days the party was rested and the necessary preparations for the ceremony were completed.

On the appointed day a large crowd gathered, composed of Satu’s mother’s clan, who were especially called. Those members of his father’s clan who desired to be present were welcomed, but all other clans were carefully excluded. The assembly formed a large circle, in the centre of which a leopard’s skin was spread and a seat placed on it.

The Kapitau went up to Satu, who was sitting among his people, and hooking his index finger in the little finger of Satu’s left hand, led him up to the leopard’s skin, and walking him round it as far as the tail, told him to step over it. Then, leading him to the front of the chair, he seated him in it, whereupon the crowd of onlookers slapped the loosely closed fists of their left hands with the palms of their right hands.

The Kapitau put on the new noble’s head some _lemba-lemba_ leaves, and wetting his hands with palm-wine, pressed them to Satu’s temples, to the back and front of his head, to his shoulders and to his knees. This was to make him throb with life, wise in the head, strong in body and legs. This ceremony was repeated three times, and a blessing was pronounced in the following words: May you be happy and lucky, and when you speak may your words be heard (_i. e._ obeyed) by the people. And again the crowd shouted and clapped.

When the folk had exhausted themselves into quietness the Kapitau asked loudly three times: “Do you know this man’s name?” and the people replied each time: “No, we do not know his name!” Then the King’s deputy exclaimed loudly: “It is _Ngudi a nkama Katendi_.” The men and women, hearing this, rounded their mouths with pursed lips, and beat them with the extended fingers of their right hands, making thereby a long series of _Wo! Wo! Wo!_ and again the drums were beaten, guns fired, and ivory trumpets sounded until the very air seemed to quiver with discordant noises.

The Kapitau then instructed the new noble how he was to deport himself as a man of high rank. In future he must not, when walking, visiting, hunting or trading, carry anything except his walking-stick or gun. In fact, he was never again to carry anything like a boy or an ordinary man. Should any person meet him bearing any article, save his stick or gun, such a person may take away the said article and either keep it for himself or sell it. Should he shoot any game he must send some one for it, for if he attempted to bring it into the town himself, the first to meet him may deprive him of his spoils. He must never, under any circumstances, gather firewood or fetch water; and, lastly, the new noble must never beat his wives, and should he so far forget himself as to do so, he may be mulcted in a fine of several fowls or one goat. These instructions completed, a bracelet was put on his arm as a sign of his new and important rank.

Satu gave the Kapitau four pieces of cloth and a pig to compensate him for his trouble; and a great feast of pigs, goats and palm-wine was prepared for the people in honour of the occasion. The night was occupied with gluttony, dancing, immorality and drunkenness, for men and women, boys and girls were reeling about in maudlin intoxication all over the town. Fortunately they had nothing but palm-wine to drink, which never makes the drinkers quarrelsome, like the fiery waters supplied by traders.

Only chiefs are permitted to own and use leopards’ skins, and when one of these animals is slain there is considerable local excitement as to which chief will gain possession of the skin by his largesse to the fortunate slayer of the brute.

The other week a leopard was killed in our neighbourhood, and the lucky man who shot it had it carried from chief to chief in the district. The front and back paws were tied, and a pole was passed through the legs and hoisted on to the shoulders of some men. In this ignominious fashion--dangling from a pole--the prize was hawked from place to place. One chief gave four kegs of gunpowder (worth 16_s_.); another gave seven blankets (worth 21_s_.); another, who already owned a leopard skin, and could not afford a second, presented eight looking-glasses (worth 5_s_.); and thus each gave, not knowing what the others had given. Satu gave four blankets, three kegs of powder, and two rugs (worth in all 30_s_.), and thus exceeded the others in generous presents. Directly it was known who gave the largest sum to the leopard slayer, Satu went and put his foot on the beast, and thus established his claim to it. The animal was removed and in due time skinned. It could not be flayed until it was trodden on by its future owner.

The leopard after it is killed is always referred to with great respect as _Mfumu_, or chief; and after the carcass has made the circuit of the chiefs it is carried back to the hunter’s town, and two or three days are given wholly to festivities. Guns are fired, drums are beaten, the people dance and sing songs in honour of the slayer of _Mfumu_, and much palm-wine is drunk. The leopard is then flayed and eaten. Some ate the flesh believing they would become lithe, cunning and strong like the leopard, but others refused to eat it from a superstitious fear of spots--like the leopard’s--breaking out on their own skins.

The gifts presented by the various chiefs paid the expenses of the festivities, and Satu sat on this skin when he was invested with the high rank of a noble. If the skin had been given to a chief out of the district in which the hunter killed the animal it would have been resented as an insult, and the towns and villages would have combined to fight the hunter’s town or enforced the payment of a heavy fine.

Satu’s deceased brother was a very poor trader, and had such frequent losses on his trading journeys that on one occasion he was compelled to “pawn” one of his younger brothers to a neighbouring chief to pay his many debts. He had borrowed fifty pieces of cloth on his brother, and although he frequently afterwards possessed more than that number, and in fact died worth more than three hundred pieces, yet he never troubled to redeem his brother, but left him in servitude. As a “pledge in pawn” the brother received no pay from the one who held him, no matter how hard he laboured.

Satu, on the other hand, was a keen, successful trader, and had accumulated a great amount of native wealth. Consequently, as a rich man and a noble, he was expected by public opinion to redeem his brother out of bondage. One of Satu’s first acts after his dignity was conferred on him was to take the fifty pieces of cloth, a calabash of palm-wine and a _white_ goat; and, calling Bakula and others to carry the goods and accompany him as witnesses, went to the town where his brother was held in slavery.

On reaching the town he sent for the pawnbroker or holder, who came at once followed by a few friends, who all paid homage to Satu as a great noble. The natives bowed to the King and rendered homage three times at each of the three places as they approached; but to Satu they bowed only once at each place as they drew near.

When all were seated, the calabash of wine was handed round and solemnly drunk by the two principal men and their witnesses. The fifty pieces of cloth were counted out and handed over, and the _white_ goat was presented. This _white gift_ was called _nkusw’ a mpemba_, or a being rubbed white. On receiving this _white_ goat the man who held the pawn in pledge arose to his feet and rubbed some chalk with his fingers by the side of the right ear of the pawn. The ceremony is complete, the pawn is redeemed, and the chalk is a sign that he is _clean_ from his bondage, and there is nothing more against him. Satu and his brother embraced each other and returned together to their town. The slur of slavery now being wiped out of the family, no one would again taunt them with it.

Satu now turned his attention to help his only niece. It appears that when she was a baby only one or two days old, a man of middle age entered her mother’s house, and dropped a bead into the saucepan that stood by the fire, and from which the hot water was taken to wash the baby. The dropping in of the bead gave the man a claim on the girl to become his wife when old enough. No one else could marry her unless the girl were released by the payment of a heavy sum for breach of custom.

When the child, Sono, reached the age of seven, her deceased uncle had acknowledged the claims of the “bead dropper” to his niece’s hand by asking him to pay ten pieces of cloth as marriage money. He could and should have asked more, but he was in difficulty, and glad to accept any sum he could get. As Sono came to realize the small amount that was given for her, she became angry with her uncle and with the man who regarded her as his cheaply bought wife; and this feeling was increased by the girls and boys in her town jeering at her for not being worth more than the price of two pigs.

When she arrived at a marriageable age she refused to marry the old man, and had repeatedly begged her uncle to release her by returning the marriage money and another ten pieces as interest for the use of the money for the past ten years. Her deceased uncle, who was then the head of her family, had refused to part with so much cloth merely to gratify the whim of a girl, and, besides, he always pleaded poverty.

There seemed no prospect of release for her from a very hateful marriage with an old man who already possessed twelve wives--most of whom had bad, quarrelsome tempers, and would make her life miserable. She had determined to kill herself[52] as her only means of escape; but now that another and richer uncle was head of the family she renewed her appeal with success.

Footnote 52:

See note 41, p. 354.

The bridegroom-elect was a crafty old man who thoroughly recognized the advantage of an alliance with so great a family if he could coerce the girl into marrying him, or the possibility of making some money out of the breaking of the covenant should her uncle support her in her continued refusal of him.

He therefore feigned surprise when he was requested to release Sono from her betrothal to him, and asked in anger: “Was he not great enough to become a member of Satu’s family! Was he not a great man himself, and owned twelve wives! What objection had lord Satu to him?”

Satu did not attempt to argue these matters with the old man, but went straight to the point by asking how much he wanted before he would release his niece.

“Well,” replied the man, “I paid ten pieces of cloth, besides palm-wine, and various odds and ends of trade goods, worth in all fifteen pieces, as marriage money, and your family has had the use of that amount for ten years; so I shall not take less than one hundred pieces of cloth to release her from the betrothal.”

“That is a ridiculous price to put on her,” retorted Satu angrily. “I will give you twenty-five pieces, one pig, one keg of gunpowder, one calabash of palm-wine, and one soldier’s coat.”

“But you are now a great chief, and a noble of high rank,” contended the old man, “and any one will give sixty pieces of cloth for your niece as marriage money in order to marry into so grand a family. I will not take a fathom less than ninety pieces. Let me tell you a story of a girl who refused her betrothed for frivolous reasons, and was badly treated by her chosen husband.” The old man then related this story, called

“Appearances are Sometimes Deceptive.”

“Once upon a time a girl was betrothed by her parents to a Mr. Hawk, and for a time she was satisfied with her sweetheart; but by and by she complained that his face was too black. Her parents tried to teach her that a man was not to be accepted simply because he had a beautiful face, nor rejected for only possessing a very plain, black one; but she would not listen to them.

“One day she put on her ornaments and best cloths, and went to the market, where she met a young man whose name was Oily-face,[53] because it was polished so brightly with palm-oil.

Footnote 53:

See note 42, p. 354.

“Mr. Oily-face’s country was a long way off, and when he left home he had a nasty body covered with pimples and scabs, and his eyes bulged out. As he passed through the towns he borrowed a face, some hair, new teeth and a nice skin; consequently when he reached the market he looked a very pleasant young man.

“This Mr. Oily-face saw the girl standing in the market, and said to her: ‘I would like to marry you.’ She looked at him, and seeing he had a beautiful light skin, well-plaited hair, and nice white teeth, she said: ‘All right, come and see my parents.’

“When they reached her town she said to her family: ‘Here is a young man who wants to marry me.’ Oily-face looked so bashful, and showed such respect to the girl’s mother, that they were all pleased with him. Very soon they were married, and shortly after started for Oily-face’s country.

“They had not gone very far on the road when some one called out: ‘Oily-face, return my hair.’ Another shouted: ‘Give me back my teeth.’ In another town a man requested Oily-face to return the face that he had lent him; and another said: ‘Give me back my stomach and take your own; it eats too much.’ Thus at last he was reduced to his own nasty body, pimply skin and bulging, ugly eyes.

“After walking many days they reached their town, and the people came round asking Oily-face where he had procured his wife. He told them that she had come from a far country which was ten days’ journey away. They welcomed her, but next morning they surrounded the house wishing to eat her.

“She came outside and said: ‘Wait, don’t eat me yet; but beat your drums and I will dance.’

“So she danced all day to amuse them, and sang a song about a Mr. Hawk being very good, with beautiful, curving feathers; and how sorry she was for not accepting him as her husband. Every morning they wanted to kill and eat her; but she danced and sang to please them.

“One day Mr. Hawk passed that way, and, looking down, saw the woman, heard her song, and felt full of pity for her. He told her parents of their daughter’s danger, and promised to save her. Next day, therefore, he flew off, swooped down, and carried her back to her own family, who were glad to receive her amongst them again. After a time she married Mr. Hawk, and never any more found fault with the colour of his face.”

“There,” continued the narrator, “your niece will be sorry she did not marry me when she is badly treated by some dandy who has borrowed his beauty from other people. Give me eighty pieces of cloth and I will release her.”

To him Satu replied, with a laugh: “I will take care that no such dandy marries my niece and carries her off to a distant country. Besides, my niece is not so foolish as to make friends with any swells (_etoko dia fioti_) on the market.” Satu offered twenty-eight pieces and the other articles, and asserted that he would not put another fathom on the price.

They argued about the affair all that afternoon and for the two succeeding days, and at last it was agreed that Satu should pay thirty-five pieces of cloth to the old man, one pig, one keg of gunpowder, one soldier’s coat, one gun, and a calabash of palm-wine, and thus the palaver was settled to every one’s satisfaction.

A month or two after the release of Sono, a young chief of a neighbouring village arrived, followed by a man carrying a large calabash of palm-wine. Bakula greeted him, and walked with him to Satu’s house. There the young man asked for Satu, who, on appearing, received homage from the chief and inquired his business.

“I very much wish to marry your niece, Sono,” replied the young man, “and I have brought a calabash of palm-wine to start the negotiations. Will you drink it?”

If Satu had refused to drink the wine the young chief would have taken it away, knowing that there was not the smallest hope of him ever marrying into Satu’s family; but Satu did not refuse the wine; he accepted it, and sat down and drank it with the suitor for his niece’s hand.

Having drunk the wine, Satu sent for some food, so that the young chief might refresh himself for his return journey; and without giving him a decided answer he told his niece’s admirer to come back in four days. So far Satu had not pledged himself, but had simply listened favourably to the suit.

On the appointed day the chief, carrying more palm-wine, returned to Satu, who, having drunk the wine, informed the aspirant to his niece’s hand that he was quite willing to regard him as a suitable husband for Sono if all other matters could be arranged; and that the marriage money would be fifty pieces of cloth, two blankets, one pig, fifty brass rods, and five round looking-glasses.

This large sum was asked on the ground that Satu wanted a guarantee that the suitor for his niece was wealthy before he would admit him into so great a family.

The young man was staggered at the price demanded; and tried to reduce it, without success. He was, however, enamoured of the lady, and at last promised to collect the various goods. But it required repeated trading expeditions about the country and to the coast before the young chief had added sufficient to his savings to pay the marriage money and meet the expenses of the wedding.

A few months passed, and Satu received word that the young chief had gathered the cloth and other articles; and requesting him to come and inspect them. This Satu did, and being satisfied with the quality of the cloth and the size of the pig, he arranged to return for the goods on a certain day and to bring the girl’s father[54] to be introduced to him.

Footnote 54:

See note 43, p. 354.

The day arrived, and with it Satu and the girl’s father, accompanied by a man carrying their calabashes of palm-wine. The young man called some of his friends to help him drink the wine, and to act as witnesses. The uncle’s wine was drunk first, as he is always of more importance in these marriage transactions than the father, mother, or even the girl herself. After the uncle’s calabash was finished the father’s wine was drunk. The “money” was then counted, and the two blankets and one or two pieces of cloth were given to the father, but the rest was claimed[55] by the uncle.

Footnote 55:

See note 44, p. 355.

Up to the present neither the girl nor her mother are supposed to have been consulted; but he would be indeed a foolish swain who went far in the “palaver” without knowing something of the girl’s feelings towards him, or sending presents to the girl’s mother.

This young man was well acquainted with the girl’s favourable regard for him, for had she not received little presents[56] from him? He knew, too, that his future mother-in-law was on his side, for he had acted generously towards her; hence, when questioned on the matter, she readily agreed[57] that the marriage could take place at once.

Footnote 56:

See note 45, p. 355.

Footnote 57:

See note 46, p. 356.

The young chief had seven wives already, consequently he was well versed in the rites and ceremonies of marriage. At these affairs there is generally a pretence at carrying off the bride; hence on the wedding-day the bridegroom, accompanied by many friends, went to the bride’s town, and as they drew near they beat their drums, shouted loudly, fired guns, and made as much noise as possible, as though they were attacking the town. There was a sham struggle, and at last the girl was carried off. This great ado was regarded as an honour to the girl, and a proof of the bridegroom’s position.

On returning to his own village the bridegroom told his friends to bring the drums and plenty of palm-wine, and on that and the succeeding three days goats and pigs were killed and eaten, palm-wine was drunk, and guns fired. The bride went without food the day before the wedding, and as a new wife she was not allowed to eat in sight of her husband for three months.

When the crowd had gone the elders met and gave the girl into the hands of the young chief, and they taught them both in the presence of witnesses. To the young woman they said: “You are to respect your husband and his family; and you are to behave yourself properly in your house. You have never had thieving or witchcraft palavers in the past; continue without them, and conduct yourselves properly towards each other.”

To the young man they said: “You are to respect your wife and her family; you must not speak harshly to her, nor treat her as a slave, nor stamp on her things, nor tread her beneath your feet.”

Then the young man went to one of the witnesses, and taking him by the wrist, rubbed a bullet on the palm of the witness’s hand, and said: “I have heard all the words spoken, and if I destroy the marriage may I die by this bullet.”

The young woman then stepped forward and shyly took the same oath. This ceremony completed, the witnesses went into Sono’s house and arranged the hearthstones, and instructed the bride in the duties of a wife.

The young chief, in anticipation of his marriage, had built a house for his new wife, because every wife had her own house in which to live and be mistress. The Congo man is too ’cute to put two women in one house; perhaps he has learned by bitter experience the unwisdom of it, and no matter how many wives he may be fortunate enough to marry, he builds a house for each, and one for himself.

Sono, coming as she did from a town which was half a day’s journey from her new home, had no farm from which she could draw her supplies of food for herself and husband, in supporting whom she had now to take an eighth share. So a few days after the marriage she went with the other women, her fellow-wives, and they helped her to clear a patch of ground, hoe it, and plant it with seasonable seeds and roots. In return for their kindness she assisted them in weeding their farms.

It was the custom for the bridegroom to supply his bride with all the necessary food until her farm was matured and yielding; and from that time to give her meat and fish as frequently as possible, while she found her own vegetable food and a share of his. It was also the man’s duty to present each of his wives with at least one good cloth every year, and more if he were a wealthy man.

Sono settled down fairly comfortably with her husband and seven fellow-wives. She had her farm to cultivate, a house of her own, an occasional bit of meat or fish sent her from her husband; what more could she want?

One morning our town was aroused by the firing of guns and shouts of _Nkombo! Nkombo!_ (Goat! Goat!)

Bakula ran out of the house and joined most vigorously in the shouting.

We saw a man covered with perspiration and panting with running. He hurried by to the chief’s _lumbu_ or enclosure, and fell at the feet of Satu, where he paid most humble homage, covering his face with dirt.

As soon as he gained his breath he said: “I have been badly treated by my master Dimbula, who frequently beat me severely with his whip. See, here are the marks!” and he showed some deep wales across his back, legs and chest. “He not only thrashed me,” he continued, “but he robbed me of the small earnings to which by right of custom I am entitled. I have therefore run away from him to you. Will you accept of me?” and he looked beseechingly at Satu, for now his very life depended on the answer. If Satu refused him, and handed him back to Dimbula as a runaway slave, it was most probable that his master, in his rage and shame, would kill him.

Satu considered the matter, and at last, to the relief of the poor wretch, called for a piece of goat’s flesh, and giving half to the slave, ate the other half himself.

The crowd that had gathered, directly they saw the piece of goat’s meat eaten, shouted: _Nkombo! Nkombo!_ (Goat! Goat!) and fired off a salvo with their guns.

The slave was practically now a free man. The piece of goat eaten by Satu was a pledge that he would protect the man who had eaten with him from ever falling again into the hands of his old master, even though he had to use the last brass rod, or shed the last drop of blood he possessed, in so doing. And the slave, by the eating of his piece of goat, was bound, as long as life lasted, to Satu as _a free man_.

On the next market day Satu took the whilom slave and showed him on the market as one who had “eaten his goat,” and was now no longer a slave. Dimbula was present, and was chagrined to witness the whole affair; but he was compelled by custom to accept from Satu the merely nominal price of a slave. In selling a slave ordinarily the seller gets as much as he can, and generally makes a good profit on the exchange; but in a transaction of this kind he must take what is offered as the equivalent of a slave, and be satisfied.

Dimbula was a man of ungovernable passions, and it was not the first time that his slaves had escaped from his cruelty by “eating goat” with neighbouring chiefs; while, on the other hand, no slaves had ever run to him for protection or to “eat goat” with him. His fierce, hasty temper was well known and feared.

Slaves free in this way take the name of _Nkombo_, or Goat; and these “goats” are very highly prized by chiefs, as they become very faithful followers of those with whom they have “eaten the goat.”