Two Men In A Swift Canoe Steal Quietly Down On The Sleeping
Animal.
The bowman dashes the harpoon into the unconscious victim,
while the quick steersman sweeps the light craft back with
His broad
paddle; the force of the blow separates the harpoon from its corded
handle, which, appearing on the surface, sometimes with an inflated
bladder attached, guides the hunters to where the wounded beast hides
below until they despatch it.
These hippopotamus hunters form a separate people, called Akombwi, or
Mapodzo, and rarely - the women it is said never - intermarry with any
other tribe. The reason for their keeping aloof from certain of the
natives on the Zambesi is obvious enough, some having as great an
abhorrence of hippopotamus meat as Mahomedans have of swine's flesh.
Our pilot, Scissors, was one of this class; he would not even cook
his food in a pot which had contained hippopotamus meat, preferring
to go hungry till he could find another; and yet he traded eagerly in
the animal's tusks, and ate with great relish the flesh of the foul-
feeding marabout. These hunters go out frequently on long
expeditions, taking in their canoes their wives and children,
cooking-pots, and sleeping-mats. When they reach a good game
district, they erect temporary huts on the bank, and there dry the
meat they have killed. They are rather a comely-looking race, with
very black smooth skins, and never disfigure themselves with the
frightful ornaments of some of the other tribes.
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