Another Shiré boat-song is _Wachenjera kale_, which, when I heard it, I took for a very _à propos_ improvisation, having, I suppose, utterly forgotten the following passage from Livingstone’s _Zambezi Expedition_, which I must have read, but which struck me as quite new when I came across it a few months later. ‘In general they [the men of Mazaro or Vicenti on the Lower Zambezi] are trained canoe-men, and man many of the canoes plying to Senna and Tette; their pay is small, and, not trusting the traders, they must always have it before they start.... It is possible they may be good-humouredly giving their reason for insisting on being invariably paid in advance in the words of their favourite canoe-song, “Uachingere [uniformity in spelling African words is, even now, not much more than a pious aspiration], uachingere kale,” “You cheated me of old,” or “Thou art slippery, slippery truly.”’ I prefer the former rendering; and, moreover, my men repeated the _Wachenjera_ thrice. There seemed to be no more of the song. A very pretty corn-pounding song heard at Blantyre is as follows:— Gu! gu! ndikatinka nkasinja. Mai! tate! Zandia, gu! Mwanawe uliranji? Kuchenjera kwa amako, Kundikwirira pa moto, Kuti ine ndipsyerere. It is not easy to get a satisfactory translation of this, though the words, on the face of them, are not very difficult. ‘_Gu! gu!_ (the sound of the pestle descending into the wooden mortar)—I am going to pound corn; father! mother! Zandia! _gu!_ (I take Zandia to be a proper name). You, child, why are you crying?—They are clever (or, they cheated me) at your mother’s—to cover me up on the fire that I might be burnt—Zandia!’ The ‘child’ addressed is perhaps the corn in the mortar, which cries out and complains of being crushed (‘burnt’), or it may be meant of some maize-cobs put down to roast while the pounding is going on, which may be heard popping and crackling. Several songs I have taken down are full of allusions to local chiefs and events of which I did not succeed in getting the explanation; they show, at all events, how passing incidents are commemorated and kept in mind. One speaks of ‘Mandala, who ran away from the flag’ (_mbendera_—the Portuguese _bandeira_), and ‘Gomani (_i.e._ Chekusi), who died (or, no doubt, “was kilt entirely”—he being still alive at the time of recitation) in the _dambo_.’ This may refer to one of the many wars between Chekusi and Chifisi, or Bazale.