We
Selected A Spot For Our Camp, Our Men Cooked The Dinner As Usual, And
We Were Quietly Eating It, When Scores Of Armed Men, Streaming With
Perspiration, Came Pouring Into The Village.
They looked at us, then
at each other, and turning to the chief upbraided him for so
needlessly sending for them.
"These people are peaceable; they do
not hurt you; you are killed with beer:" so saying, they returned to
their homes.
Native beer has a pinkish colour, and the consistency of gruel. The
grain is made to vegetate, dried in the sun, pounded into meal, and
gently boiled. When only a day or two old, the beer is sweet, with a
slight degree of acidity, which renders it a most grateful beverage
in a hot climate, or when fever begets a sore craving for acid
drinks. A single draught of it satisfies this craving at once. Only
by deep and long-continued potations can intoxication be produced:
the grain being in a minutely divided state, it is a good way of
consuming it, and the decoction is very nutritious. At Tette a
measure of beer is exchanged for an equal-sized pot full of grain. A
present of this beer, so refreshing to our dark comrades, was brought
to us in nearly every village. Beer-drinking does not appear to
produce any disease, or to shorten life on the hills. Never before
did we see so many old, grey-headed men and women; leaning on their
staves they came with the others to see the white men. The aged
chief, Muata Manga, could hardly have been less than ninety years of
age; his venerable appearance struck the Makololo. "He is an old
man," said they, "a very old man; his skin hangs in wrinkles, just
like that on elephants' hips." "Did you never," he was asked, "have
a fit of travelling come over you; a desire to see other lands and
people?" No, he had never felt that, and had never been far from
home in his life. For long life they are not indebted to frequent
ablutions. An old man told us that he remembered to have washed once
in his life, but it was so long since that he had forgotten how it
felt. "Why do you wash?" asked Chinsunse's women of the Makololo;
"our men never do."
The superstitious ordeal, by drinking the poisonous muave, obtains
credit here; and when a person is suspected of crime, this ordeal is
resorted to. If the stomach rejects the poison, the accused is
pronounced innocent; but if it is retained, guilt is believed to be
demonstrated. Their faith is so firm in its discriminating power,
that the supposed criminal offers of his own accord to drink it, and
even chiefs are not exempted. Chibisa, relying on its efficacy,
drank it several times, in order to vindicate his character. When
asserting that all his wars had been just, it was hinted that, as
every chief had the same tale of innocence to tell, we ought to
suspend our judgment.
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