are extremely rare. With clubs and sticks the thief is
driven away from his home and from his tribe; in short,
he is drummed out. Thus, or rather let me say, by natural
instinct, good behaviour is a typical distinction of the
people.
The traveller cannot help being impressed by the air of
freedom which these primitive men and women breathe.
They have a total want of anxiety; their children are as
plump and round as distended bladders, no matter whether
they are the offspring of a chief or of a slave.*
Suppose, for the time being, that the cultured blessings
of civilisation give place to matters material, how infinitely
preferable does the life of a Makorikori appear when compared
with the struggle of a poor man in a crowded city of
Christendom! The children of the latter are penned in
narrow slums; they grow up stunted in body and depraved
in mind, and anon the deep lines of care or crime appear
prematurely upon their youthful brows.
The civilised poor man is not half so happy as the
untutored savage, although the latter lives far beyond the
sound of church bells. Can it be that heathen freedom
and plenty in the wind-swept wilderness are preferable to
civilised starvation in the polluted atmosphere of a rotten
hovel ? The subject is worthy of consideration.
* * * * * * *
The light of day is becoming dim. I look upon the
peaceful and interesting scene of this sequestered retreat of
the aborigine. Excepting the careless hand of chance, no
influence has changed the even routine of the people’s lives
for generations past.
The naked herd-boys, with spears and “ kerries,” are
* I have, however, seen children from Mashona villages, after a
Matabeli raid, so thin as to remind one of living skeletons.
driving the crowding cattle, which emerge from the gloom
of the forest, into the rolling meadow beneath, and up the
steep ascent towards the town. Long lines of women-folk
are carrying in the produce of the gardens; happy children
romp about, with a thick coating of dust upon their tiny
but plump bodies, which makes them look like animated
pods of clay. Slowly, and with a wearied gait, far behind
the rest, older women follow, their shrunk and feeble forms
denoting that their sun has nearly set. They still strain,
however, under heavy loads of wood, their bodies covered
with dust, and their ancient noses coloured with snuff.
One by one the crowd enter the narrow portals, and soon
all are within the rock-girt citadel. No sound is heard save
the lowing of the cattle, varied sometimes by the merry
ripple of careless voices, and even these die away with the
fading light.
Oh, happy and favoured Inyota! Long may the gentle
winds of peace and freedom caress your mountain home |
Darkness quietly steals over the scene. Once more the
town is hushed in sleep. The short day is again spent, and
is a cypher in the illimitable numbers of the past. Soothed
by the silence of the surroundings I sink to rest. Before
the morning dawns we must be up and away, bidding a long
farewell to Inyota’s tranquil land.