Prospecting parties going northwards tarried at Port
Victoria for a rest, and came over to see the wondrous
ruins of Zimbabwe. Englishmen, Dutchmen from the
Transvaal, Germans, all sorts and conditions of men
came to visit us, and as temporary custodians of
the ruins we felt it our duty to personally conduct
parties over them, thereby hearing all sorts and conditions
of opinions as to the origin of the same. One
of our friends told us that they reminded him forcibly
of the Capitol of Pome; another, of a religious turn of
mind, saw in them an exact parallel to the old walls of
Jerusalem; and a Dutchman, after seeing over them,
told me that he was convinced that they must be just
‘ one tousand year old, and built in the reign of Queen
Shabby.’ The names of King Solomon and the Queen
of Sheba were on everybody’s lips, and have become
so distasteful to us that we never expect to hear them
again without an involuntary shudder.
Thus our two months’ stay at Zimbabwe can in
no way be said to have been dull. We had our daily
work from eight in the morning till sundown, with
an hour at midday for luncheon and repose. Out of
the working days we lost nine from rain, a curious
soaking misty rain which always came on with a high
south-east wind, and always, oddly enough, with
a rise in the barometer, very exceptional, we were
told, at that season of the year. Over these days I
would willingly draw a veil; they were truly miserable
and always resulted in fresh outbreaks of fever
amongst us. With the exception of these nine days
the weather was simply delicious, fresh, balmy, and
sunny; after sundown and our evening meal we
would sit around our camp fire discussing our finds
of the day and indulging in hopes for the morrow.
Most of our white men were musical, and beguiled
the monotony of the evening hours by a series of
camp concerts, which made us intimately acquainted
with all the latest music-hall ditties. Occasionally
rations of Cape brandy, better known as dop, would
be sent out to the B.S.A. men in our employ; then the
evening’s fun became fast and furious, and on two
occasions caused us no little anxiety. Luckily these
rations were always consumed on the night of their
arrival, and though the following morning revealed a
headache or two, and an occasional attack of fever,
we always rejoiced to see the bottles empty and to
know that the orgy would not be repeated for perhaps
a fortnight. .
Umgabe is the dynastic name of the petty chief
whose territory includes the Zimbabwe ruins; he
recognises the suzerainty of Chibi, but is to all intents
and purposes a free ruler. He came the day after
our arrival to visit us, and then we were introduced
to the Makalanga custom of hand-clapping. The
mysterious meaning attached to this hand-clapping I
was afterwards able in a measure to fathom.1 On the
arrival of a chief or grand induna the hand-clapping
is a serious undertaking, and has to go on incessantly
until the great man is seated and bids them stop.
Umgabe was glad to see us, he said, and had no intention
of interrupting pur proposed work, provided
1 Chap. IX.