This thought pleased her much and she thereupon took another drink, which practically emptied the bottle. Of course I do not know that she had consumed the first half of that bottle, but she certainly drank enough in our presence to intoxicate any normal person. It was strange, but it did not seem to have much effect on her. When she spoke and drank, I noticed that her teeth were perfect. This, at the age of more than one hundred years, is a great tribute to the Swazi custom of cleaning the teeth with charcoal or sand after each meal. There was nothing private about our interview. While we talked indunas came and went and the women were always in the hut. In addition, both Lomwazi and Debeseembie were on hand all the time. After we had exhausted all our compliments and small talk, Tuys broached the subject of permission to take pictures of Sebuza's coronation. Here we ran against what seemed to be an insuperable obstacle. It was impossible to make either the queen or Lomwazi understand what I wanted. They had no conception whatever of what a photograph meant and motion-pictures were entirely beyond their comprehension. Both Tuys and I tried in every way to make them understand, but it was hopeless. Finally I decided that the only thing to do would be to take a picture of Lomwazi or the old queen and show Lomwazi what I was talking about. I persuaded him to get Labotsibeni to allow herself to be carried outside the hut into the sunlight, and there I took a picture of her. Then I photographed Lomwazi, Debeseembie, and a group of others. I explained to them that I would show them the pictures the next day, as I hoped to have them developed and printed by that time. After the picture-taking we went back inside the hut, and then the old queen became more friendly and told me her troubles. It seems she suffered with rheumatism in the shoulders and back. This was due to the fact that her upper body was usually bare and that she laid in the draught between the openings of the hut. When cold, she would cover herself with a magnificent fur rug, but this did not help her rheumatism much. On hearing of her aches and pains, Tuys's evil genius gave him an inspiration and he proceeded to get me into a pretty pickle. "Nkosikaas, you are in great good luck that we came to see you," he told her. "Mzaan Bakoor is a great white witch-doctor and makes the muti (medicine) that cures such pains as you have. He will make the muti for you and will cure you!" Labotsibeni appeared much cheered by this suggestion. I was not, however. I had no medicines with me and would gladly have kicked Tuys for making the offer. Shortly after this we left the queen, with the understanding that I was going to make the medicine that would cure her rheumatism and would bring it to her as soon as it was ready. When we got back to our camp I blessed Tuys with a real Boer outburst of profanity.