in the virus was passed with a needle through their
tails. Sometimes after this process the tails swell
and fall off; and up country a tailless ox has a
value peculiarly his own. It is always rather a
sickly time for the poor beasts, but as we only lost
two out of thirty-six from this disease we voted it
successful.
I think Kanya is the first place where one realises
that one is iff savage Africa. Though it is under
British protection it is only nominally so, to prevent
the Boers from appropriating it. Batuen, the chief,
is still supreme, and, like his father, Gasetsive, he is
greatly under missionary influence. He has stuck up
a notice on the roadside at the entrance to the town
in Sechuana, the language of the country, Dutch, and
English, which runs as follows: ‘ I, Batuen, chief of
Ba-Ngwatetse, hereby give notice to my people, and
all other people, that no waggons' shall enter or leave
Kanya on Sunday. Signed, September 28th, 1889.’
If any one transgresses this law Batuen takes an ox
from each span, a transaction in which piety and
profit go conveniently hand in hand.
Kanya is pleasantly situated amongst low hills
well clad with trees. It is a collection of huts divided
into circular kraals hedged in with palisades, four to
ten huts being contained in each enclosure. These
are again contained in larger enclosures, forming
separate communities, each governed by its hereditary
sub-chief, with its kotla or parliament circle in its
midst. On the summit of the hill many acres are
covered with these huts, and there are also many in
the valley below. Certain roughly-constructed walls
run round the hill, erected when the Boers threatened
an invasion; but now these little difficulties are past,
and Batuen limits his warlike tendencies to quarrelling
with his neighbours on the question of a border line,
a subject which never entered their heads before the
British influence came upon them.
All ordinary matters of government and justice
are discussed in the large kotla before the chiefs own
h u t ; but big questions, such as the border question,
are discussed at large tribal gatherings in the open
veldt. There was to be one of these gatherings of
Batuen’s tribe near Kanya on the following Monday,
and we regretted not being able to stop and witness
so interesting a ceremony.
The town is quite one of the largest in Bechuana-
land, and presents a curious appearance on the
summit of the hill. The kotla is about 200 feet in
diameter, with shady trees in it, beneath which the
monarch sits to dispense justice. We passed an idle
afternoon therein, watching with interest the women
of Batuen’s household, naked save for a s k in loosely
thrown around them, lying on rugs before the palace,
and teaching the children to dance to the sound of
their weird music, and making the air ring with their
merry laughter. In one corner Batuen’s slaves were
busy filling his granaries with maize just harvested.
His soldiers paraded in front of his house, and kept
their suspicious eyes upon us as we s a t; many of
them were quaintly dressed in red coats, which once
had been worn by British troops, and soft hats with