Campaigning in Kaffirland; Or, Scenes and Adventures in the Kaffir War of 1851-52King, William Ross
History
Campaigning in Kaffirland; Or, Scenes and Adventures in the Kaffir War of 1851-52
King, William Ross
South Africa -- History -- Frontier Wars, 1811-1878
A party of _headmen_ and older warriors, seated cross-legged in their
tents, ceremoniously smoked the _dagha-pipe_, a kind of hookah, made of
a bullock's horn, its downward point filled with water, and a reed stem
let into the side, surmounted by a rough bowl of stone, which is filled
with the _dahga_, a species of hemp, very nearly, if not the same, as
the Indian _bang_. Each individual in the circle receives it in turn,
opens his jaws to their full extent, and placing his lips to the wide
open mouth of the horn, takes a few pulls and passes it on. Retaining
the last draught of smoke in his mouth, which he fills with a decoction
of bark and water from a calabash, he squirts it on the ground by
his side through a long ornamented tube in his left hand, performing
thereon, by the aid of a reserved portion of the liquid, a sort of
boatswain's whistle, complacently regarding the soap-like bubbles, the
joint production of himself and neighbour. It appeared to be a sign of
special friendliness and kindly feeling to squirt into the same hole.
For a few shillings and a little tobacco, we obtained a number of
handsome ornaments taken from the huts of some of the members of the
Gaika Royal Family, such as bracelets, karosses, &c., with the singular
head-dresses, _umnqwazi_, made of otter skin and beautiful bead work,
which are the insignia peculiar to female royalty in Kaffirland.
Next day we returned to Fort Hare, and encamped on the plain at some
distance from the walls. Here we expected to have had a short rest
after the incessant marching and countermarching of the last few days,
as the morrow would be Sunday, but were doomed to be disappointed, for
soon after sunrise tents were again struck, and as the early chapel
bell tolled for first service, we marched through the straggling
village of Alice, the clean Sunday dressed settlers wishing us
"God-speed," and the young Fingoes, as usual, dancing round our Pipers
in ecstasies of delight. The 91st were left behind to garrison the Fort.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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