algoa bay—kafirs on the coast—difficulties regarding servants.
standing on the shores of algoa bay, with the “liverpool of south africa”—port elizabeth—at my back, i attempted to realise what must have been the scene, in the memorable “1820,” when the flourishing city was yet unborn, when the whole land was a veritable wilderness, and the sands on which the port now stands were covered with the tents of the “settlers.”
some of the surroundings, thought i, are pretty much as they were in those days. the shipping at anchor in the offing must resemble the shipping that conveyed the emigrants across the sea—except, of course, these two giant steamers of the “donald currie” and the “union” lines. the bright blue sky, too, and the fiery sun are the same, and so are those magnificent “rollers,” which, rising, one scarce can tell when or where, out of a dead-calm sea, stand up for a few seconds like liquid walls, and then rush up the beach with a magnificent roar.
as i gazed, the scene was rendered still more real by the approach from seaward of a great surf-boat, similar to the surf-boats that brought the settlers from their respective ships to the shore. such boats are still used at the port to land goods—and also passengers, when the breakers are too high to admit of their being landed in small boats at the wooden pier. the surf-boats are bulky, broad, and flat, strongly built to stand severe hammering on the sand, and comparatively shallow at the stern, to admit of their being backed towards the beach, or hauled off to sea through the surf by means of a rope over the bow.
as the surf-boat neared the shore, i heard voices behind me, and, turning round, beheld a sight which sent me completely back into the 1820 days. it was a band of gentlemen in black—black from the crowns of their heads to the soles of their feet, with the exception of their lips and teeth and eyes. here was the simon pure in very truth. they were so-called red kafirs, because of their habit of painting their bodies and blankets with red ochre. at this time the paint had been washed off, and the blankets laid aside. they were quite naked, fresh from the lands of their nativity, and apparently fit for anything.
shade of othello!—to say nothing of apollo—what magnificent forms the fellows had, and what indescribably hideous faces! they were tall, muscular, broad-shouldered, small waisted and ankled, round-muscled, black-polished—in a word, elegantly powerful. many of them might have stood as models for hercules. like superfine cloth, they were of various shades; some were brown-black, some almost blue-black, and many coal-black.
they were coming down to unload the surf-boat, and seemed full of fun, and sly childlike humour, as they walked, tripped, skipped and sidled into the water. at first i was greatly puzzled to account for the fact that all their heads and throats were wrapped up, or swathed, in dirty cloth. it seemed as if every man of them was under treatment for a bad cold. this i soon found was meant to serve as a protection to their naked skins from the sharp and rugged edges and corners of the casks and cases they had to carry.
the labour is rather severe, but is well paid, so that hundreds of kafirs annually come down from their homes in the wilderness to work for a short time. they do not, i believe, make a profession of it. fresh relays come every year. each young fellow’s object is to make enough money to purchase a gun and cattle, and a wife—or wives. as these articles cost little in africa, a comparatively short attention to business, during one season, enables a man who left home a beggar to return with his fortune made! he marries, sets his wives to hoe the mealies and milk the cows, and thereafter takes life easy, except when he takes a fancy to hunt elephants, or to go to war for pastime. ever after he is a drone in the world’s beehive. having no necessity he need not work, and possessing no principle he will not.
as the boat came surging in on the foam, these manly children waded out to meet her, throwing water at each other, and skylarking as they went. they treated the whole business in fact as a rather good jest, and although they toiled like heroes, they accompanied their work with such jovial looks, and hummed such lilting, free-and-easy airs the while, that it was difficult to associate their doings with anything like labour.
soon the boat grounded, and the kafirs crowded round her, up to their waists sometimes in the water, and sometimes up to the arm-pits, when a bigger wave than usual came roaring in. the boat itself was so large that, as they stood beside it, their heads barely rose to a level with the gunwale. the boatmen at once began to heave and roll the goods over the side. the kafirs received them on their heads or shoulders, according to the shape or size of each package—and they refused nothing. if a bale or a box chanced to be too heavy for one man, a comrade lent assistance; if it proved still too heavy, a third added his head or shoulder, and the box or bale was borne off.
one fellow, like a black hercules, put his wrapper on his head, and his head under a bale, which i thought would crush him down into the surf, but he walked ashore with an easy springing motion, that showed he possessed more than sufficient power. another man, hitting hercules a sounding smack as he went by, received a mighty cask on his head that should have cracked it—but it didn’t. then i observed the boatmen place on the gunwale an enormous flat box, which seemed to me about ten feet square. it was corrugated iron, they told me, of, i forget, how many hundredweight. a crowd of kafirs got under it, and carried it ashore as easily as if it had been a butterfly. but this was nothing to a box which next made its appearance from the bowels of that capacious boat. it was in the form of a cube, and must have measured nine or ten feet in all directions. its contents i never ascertained, but the difficulty with which the boatmen got it rested on the side of the boat proved its weight to be worthy of its size. to get it on the shoulders of the kafirs was the next difficulty. it was done by degrees. as the huge case was pushed over the edge, kafir after kafir put his head or shoulder to it, until there were, i think, from fifteen to twenty men beneath the weight;—then, slowly, it left the boat, and began to move towards the shore.
assuredly, if four or five of these men had stumbled at the same moment, the others would have been crushed to death, but not a man stumbled. they came ashore with a slow, regular, almost dancing gait, humming a low monotonous chant, as if to enable them to step in time, and making serio-comic motions with arms and hands, until they deposited safely in a cart a weight that might have tested atlas himself!
it seemed obvious that these wild men, (for such they truly were), had been gifted with all the powers that most white men lay claim to,—vigour, muscle, energy, pluck, fun, humour, resolution. only principle is wanted to make them a respectable and useful portion of the human family. like all the rest of us they are keenly alive to the influence of kindness and affection. of course if your kindness, forbearance, or affection, take the form of action which leads them to think that you are afraid of them, they will merely esteem you cunning, and treat you accordingly; but if you convince a kafir, or any other savage, that you have a disinterested regard for him, you are sure to find him grateful, more or less.
one family with which i dined gave me to understand that this was the result of their own experience. at that very time they had a kafir girl in training as a housemaid. servants, let me remark in passing, are a cape difficulty. the demand is in excess of the supply, and the supply is not altogether what it should be, besides being dear and uncomfortably independent. i suppose it was because of this difficulty that the family i dined with had procured a half-wild kafir girl, and undertaken her training.
her clothes hung upon her in a manner that suggested novelty. she was young, very tall, black, lithe as an eel, strong as a horse. she was obviously new to the work, and went about it with the air of one who engages in a frolic. but the free air of the wilderness had taught her a freedom of action and stride, and a fling of body that it was not easy to restrain within the confined precincts of a dining—room. she moved round the table like a sable panther—ready to spring when wanted. she had an open-mouthed smile of amused good-will, and an open-eyed “what-next—only-say-quick—and-i’ll-do-it” expression that was impressive. she seized the plates and dishes and bore them off with a giraffe-like, high-stepping action that was quite alarming, but she broke or spilt nothing. to say that she flung about, would be mild. it would not have been strange, i thought—only a little extra dash in her jubilant method of proceeding—if she had gone head-foremost through the dining-room window for the sake of bearing the mutton round by a shorter route to the kitchen.
the family expected that this girl would be reduced to moderation, and rendered faithful—as she certainly was intelligent—by force of kindness in a short time.
of course in a country thus circumstanced, there are bad servants. the independence of the totties is most amusing—to those who do not suffer from it. i was told that servants out there have turned the tables on their employers, and instead of bringing “characters” with them, require to know the characters of master and mistress before they will engage. it is no uncommon thing for a domestic to come to you and say that she is tired and wants a rest, and is going off to see her mother. indeed it is something to her credit if she takes the trouble to tell you. sometimes she goes off without warning, leaving you to shift for yourself, returning perhaps after some days. if you find fault with her too severely on her return, she will probably leave you altogether.
this naturally tries the temper of high-spirited mistresses—as does also the incorrigible carelessness of some servants.
a gentle lady said to me quietly, one day, “i never keep a servant after slapping her!”
“is it your habit to slap them?” i asked with a smile.
“no,” she replied with an answering smile, “but occasionally i am driven to it. when a careless girl, who has been frequently cautioned, singes one’s linen and destroys one’s best dress, and melts one’s tea-pot by putting it on the red-hot stove, what can flesh and blood do?”
i admitted that the supposed circumstances were trying.
“the last one i sent off,” continued the lady, “had done all that. when she filled up her cup of iniquity by melting the tea-pot, i just gave her a good hearty slap on the face. i couldn’t help it. of course she left me after that.”
i did not doubt it, for the lady was not only gentle in her manner, and pretty to boot, but was tall and stout, and her fair arm was strong, and must have been heavy.
