CHAPTER VII.

THE MISSION STATION.

Fortunately we had seen too much of Africa to expect a carpeted room and a cushioned chair at Blantyre. We had slept so often in “shielins” incomparably worse than a Scotch hen-house, that we did not care what kind of roof covered us. “If you want to make a man happy,” it is said, “strive not to increase his comforts but to lessen his desires.” An experience like ours recommended the proverb; and as we stood for a minute (we would have sat if there had been a spare chair) “glowrin frae’s” in what we might call our own “fowl-house,” we saw that we should have many opportunities for exercising self-denial. When our friends in Scotland had tried to dissuade us from going to Africa, they had pointed out how prudent the men were who go no farther in mission work than to address drawing-room meetings. Still, we were quite contented. We had been promised the prayerful sympathy of the Church at home, and now we knew most of our difficulties. At least we thought so, and were happy, but “Dici beatus ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet”. Blantyre, although highly praised at home, did not possess many attractions for the newcomer. On our first introduction to the manse we perceived that it contained two rooms. In the larger of these there was nothing but a huge table, which was noteworthy in many respects. It was the only one we had seen for a month, and with the exception of a board used by the artisans, it was the only table within a hundred miles. It had to serve too in surgical cases: when any poor native had to undergo an operation, it was on this that the doctors had to place him. The smaller room we may describe as a bedroom, though when we were first ushered into it, it contained neither bedstead nor bed, and boasted only of one small chair of the rudest description. In our hut there were two doors, but neither of them had a lock, and one had no fastening at all. When we learned that thieves and wild beasts were frequent visitors, we began to barricade doors and windows with chairs, books, and buckets. At this moment, however, as our luggage had not yet arrived, we were safe from theft, unless we should be served as were certain members of the Universities’ Mission, who had their very coat buttons cut off. There were three other inhabited houses built on the same plan as ours, but none of them were so well furnished! While there was one efficient door in the manse, and perhaps another in the doctor’s house, the artisans’ had no doors at all, but mattings of grass were propped up in the doorways at night. Chairs were a great rarity; I do not think there were more than four in the whole station, old boxes doing duty instead.

[Illustration: THE BLANTYRE MISSION.]

But although our houses were only mud huts they had an English finish about them and were very acceptable to those that had wandered so long. Writing at this time I said:—“The present houses promise to last only for about three years, so that in a short time we must make brick, with a view to more permanent dwellings. Rats and white ants annoy us considerably. With the former we are constantly at war, assisted by traps, and cats, and a tame owl. Sometimes a gun is used when half-a-dozen of them may be killed by a single discharge. They are so troublesome from their great numbers, that we must try phosphorus paste or some such poison. White ants come up through the floor, and attack books or clothes, rendering them quite useless in a single night. When a person wants a skeleton for a specimen, he has only to put down the animal near these ants, and in a short time he finds nothing but the bones. Smaller ants creep everywhere. One method of placing our food out of their reach is to put it in a box suspended by a rope from the ceiling. In our house there was, by and by, an apology for a cupboard the legs of which had to be placed in water, but notwithstanding this precaution these insects made a bridge over the bodies of their drowned companions and covered our breakfast fowl in such numbers that the fowl itself actually could not be seen. One of their most annoying tricks is to visit a sleeper in bed. More terrible still are the large red ants (salau). Their attack has made many a traveller leave his bed and stand in the smoke of a fire for the remainder of the night. They bite furiously, and do not let go their hold even after the head is severed from their body. When a European happens to stand among them he has to rush into the house at once, and divest himself of all his clothing. After he has apparently destroyed all his enemies, he has some difficulty in taking their heads away from his skin. According to the natives they will kill an elephant. Entering his nostrils they cause such irritation that the animal commits suicide by dashing against trees and rocks; and then the ants enjoy the carcase. They attack their victims with much skill, waiting till they have spread themselves all over his body, and then working by well understood signals. When on the march, the smaller ants go in the middle, while the larger who are the ‘soldiers’ line the sides. On a disturbance the soldiers hasten to the scene of danger. The average line of march is hardly an inch broad but may be half a mile long. They go very closely probably about 30 being on every square inch. When they threaten to enter a house the best way of diverting them is by putting fire on their path. Sometimes the Missionaries had to stand a siege for a few hours from these formidable armies.”

The Mission Station was situated on a knoll, and well exposed to all the cool breezes. The wind is never high; seldom can a man get his hat blown off. But occasionally there are whirlwinds which toss native baskets in the air to a height of several feet. A “cloudless sky” has been often mentioned as a characteristic of a happy land, but here one does not appreciate the metaphor. There are large grasshoppers which the natives catch for food, as also many small birds which the schoolboys shoot with blunted arrows.

_African Fever._ All of us, not excepting the doctor himself, paid the penalty for passing through the fever region. We thought that after reaching Blantyre our troubles were to be at an end. A week passes after our arrival, and still no fever; surely we are all right now. Only let a man get a chill, and he will soon discover. A person passes along our clay floors without his boots of a morning, and the thing is done,—he may take any preventive measure he chooses, but the fever will take its course.

Our illness began ten days after our arrival, and we were laid aside for about three weeks. During this time all the other Europeans on the Station were also ill, and no one was able to take care of another. Dr. Macklin often rose from a sick bed to do what he could. One of our greatest difficulties was to get food. The cooking of the natives when left to themselves exceeded anything we had yet encountered. Besides, the black people did not understand a word we said. If we asked for a glass of milk they would bring a tin of biscuits, after that they would try a tin of butter, and then in despair they would bring in an armful of books! But it is when the invalid begins to recover that he misses the comforts of his native land. There are certain things that a sick man must have at home that he cannot get here: he sees this at once and there is no use of fretting over it. Not only is the invalid bereft of home comforts, but he is subjected to a great many annoyances. He hears the jackals and the hyænas screaming round the station, and a single night is sufficient to convince him that these creatures have most powerful lungs. Besides, a lion may be sitting coolly in the verandah. The roads round the mission are marked each morning with the footprints of animals of all kinds. The station is just in the middle of a dense bush, which has not been cleared farther than was absolutely necessary. As one looks out at a window he may see large buck at about 100 yards from him.

_Artisans._—The first thing that struck us as we approached the station, was the paleness of the four or five Englishmen that were standing to welcome us. The effect of this was heightened by their contrast with the hundreds of black faces that surrounded them. Members of the Free Church Mission were there too. Most of the young men felt their isolated position, all had suffered severely from fever, and already death had been thinning their ranks. An air of stillness, not to say of sadness, overhung the place. After we had recovered from attacks of fever; there was a magic lantern entertainment, where through an interpreter I acted as demonstrator. I can never forget Dr. Macklin’s remark, that “there was more fun and laughing that night, both among natives and Europeans, than he had seen since the Mission began”. The men were all of that age when hope is strongest in the human soul, but they had met with much to discourage them. As the dawn of Christmas morn reminded a man of the festivities of the season, and of his friends in the far off home, he found himself lying in bed overcome by weakness, but obliged to hold up an umbrella to shield his blankets from the rain. All had felt what it is to undergo long periods of sickness while destitute of every comfort. The Directors at home, who were entrusted with the Church collections found it necessary to cut down the Mission expenditure. The poor fellows in Africa, though separated from friends and weakened by sickness, had this grim fact ever staring them in the face. The watchword was, “Man, think of the bawbees at the Kirk door!” On one occasion, it had been settled that they must retrench. They could not afford to pay the ordinary price for fowls. On Christmas morning a native came to the Mission, wishing to sell a beautiful cock. It seemed as if Providence had designed them a special treat for the festive season. They began to try to purchase this “tambala,” but, alas, the owner was obstinate. He expected the old price. Economy was supreme, but said one, “I was very sorry as I looked after the man going away with our dinner!”

These hardships naturally caused irritation and discontent. The party for the Government, while making the best of the circumstances, had often to face the hungry Opposition—and the proverb says, “A hungry man’s an angry man”. The speech, “Now, you must not think that I am standing over the provisions like a dog set to keep you from them,” would call forth the reply, “It looks very like it!” But the evil was beyond the power of the Government and the Opposition, both parties being to some extent made victims. Such evils generally begin at home. Persons sent out are told that everything will be done to mitigate their hard lot. Bright promises are held before their eyes, perhaps not by the Directors formally, but by certain of their members. Some of these would be found in the young men’s path at every turning, loudly shouting, “Peace and plenty”. I know nothing more painful than the action of such irresponsible go-betweens. The Directors as a body, cannot, of course, approach the various individuals. What they do, is to refer in an off-hand manner to some of their most zealous members, who take upon them the task of giving information, without first informing themselves, and the result is the most complete deception. Promises are made in good faith, and seem most reasonable in themselves, but the very men that volunteer to give such pledges, have no power to fulfil them, and once the man is abroad, he finds that he has been outwitted. Such hardships as are inevitable, are often a milder item in Mission life, and are always borne with greater cheerfulness, than such as are inflicted through culpable misrepresentation and carelessness.

Men whose hearts are not in the work have little patience during such trials, while even earnest workers are liable to be made discontented while always hearing the grumbling of others, and knowing that it is not without cause. Still amidst much to dishearten them these poor fellows had their day dreams. Hope, the last goddess to forsake the miserable, hovered about their home in the desert. A good story is told of a small party whose walk brought them by chance to the banks of a beautiful rivulet. Amidst the impressive vastness of the African forest, and all the rare scenes of a new country, their hearts were ready to admit most brilliant hopes. As one of them looked about the rivulet he fell on something whose effect was magical. All at once his manner became dignified, the tones of his voice changed, at last he had found a balm for his sorrows. “It’s gold! yes, gold! we need never lift a hammer again.” But alas! the vision of splendour was not realized. It gave place to the usual wrangling about rations, and the proverb “Golden dreams make one awake hungry” was painfully appropriate.

It is most essential for a Church to see that when a band of artisans is sent to places so isolated, every cause of irritation should be avoided; when this is not done the results may be serious. When a great play is acted on this world’s theatre it is one thing to sit as a spectator, and another to be admitted behind the scenes. When I read, as a little boy, of Waterloo, and such celebrated battles, I thought everything connected with the victorious party must be great, and good, and glorious,—that every soldier and officer must be a model of virtue and excellence. But once I met with a Waterloo veteran, and my pre-conceived opinions received a cruel shock. This man told me with the greatest complacency, as if it had been the merest matter of course, that soldiers were put under the strictest discipline, that many of them were men that required this, that frequent quarrels took place, and that many a soldier welcomed a battle as an opportunity for killing not the public enemy, but some private enemy who belonged to his own side and fought in his own regiment! Though man has heavenward aspirations, it is true, alas! that he standeth upon the earth.

We arrived at Blantyre at a very critical period of the Mission’s history. A few months before, an able Missionary on quitting the settlement, said that he left it either to “sink or swim,” and hinted that the former alternative was not improbable. Many of the artisans did not wish to continue in the service of the Mission, believing that they would find it better to become traders and chiefs among the natives.

All the artisans had an enormous influence in the country. In the service of the Mission, they had hundreds of native workmen under their charge. In a private capacity each had one or two black butlers, not to speak of cooks and clothes-washers! Some were large landed proprietors on their own account. They found that any chief would give 1000 acres without a moment’s hesitation, and some of them had acquired whole tracts of territory. But their riches lay lightly on their hearts, and a visitor to the station would not have found out that such freeholds had been acquired. Except in a moment of confidence, no artisan would speak of his great fortune, and unless specially informed we could not have distinguished the man that possessed miles of land, from the man that had not a foot. But it had been mooted at home that some missionaries held land in their own name. Letters which had been quite unintelligible at the time, showed that there was an alarm over the ridiculous subject. Artisans that bargained about large tracts of country were still in the Mission, and did no more good or harm by the transaction than they would have done by acquiring a freehold in the moon!

Chiefs fawned upon Europeans or rather on their goods. They would promise anything or everything for the present of an old coat. When they made a grant of land to one man and received his “present,” they saw nothing inconsistent in giving the same land to a second man, or more correctly to a second “present”. Soon these chiefs were better understood, and however willing the artisans were to keep on good terms with these “great ones,” their constant begging was too much for human patience. The sneaking beings were found to be a perfect nuisance. They put themselves on the footing of beggars, and the most unpretentious of the Europeans had to treat them as such.

The artisans set themselves to train the natives to work. It was difficult at first, but they showed considerable firmness. Some of them believed that the native despised leniency, and formed the opinion that the more they kicked him the more they were respected. This was an unfortunate interpretation of the servility of the African. The plan more frequently adopted was to dismiss any obstinate man without payment, the only danger being that the whole squad would have to be thus treated. Many were slaves, and as they might have to give over their wages to a master, they were not at all sorry to be dismissed. Often masters and slaves would work side by side under the European artisan who did justice to all without respect of persons.

The industrial work was prosecuted with vigour, many natives being employed in making roads. When the bugle sounded on Monday morning, there was a rush of hundreds of men and women who had come to receive employment. One artisan stood ready to select as many workers as he wanted, and he was soon hidden from view as the people crowded around him. Before enrolling the candidates he looked at their hoes and axes, and rejected such as had inferior tools. He rejected also women that had babies on their backs, but when this became known to a native mother, she handed her child to some one else until her name was once on the book. As the native names were sometimes very long, the artisan had a great demand on his powers of writing. “And what’s your name?” he asks. “Unechemtyosyamaguluwe.”[4] “Tut, man, the half of that will do!” is the rejoinder; and a high sounding name like Emmanuel is reduced to Emma.

_Visitors._—For several days after our arrival there was great excitement. Our larger room had four windows, which were thrown open to admit the air, and every morning a crowd gathered at each window to see the white lady! The natives of the Chiri Highlands had seen white men before, but they had scarcely realised that women too would be disfigured by this strange complexion. Some visitors asked an introduction to the newcomer on the ground that “they were women too”. We had to shake hands with all the groups. This was not a native salutation, but we wished to be cordial towards our black brothers and sisters. After grasping a score of dark hands, our own partook of a similar hue. A stranger might feel inclined to wash his hands after the ceremony, but he would return to find that more visitors had come, and that the whole process had to be repeated. The natives are not much inconvenienced by “matter out of place”. Even persons that came from working clay would advance and hold out their hands. But they had good excuse. At this season they had no water on the spot except a little for softening their clay, nor had they any towels. Their loin-cloth seemed often too scanty for wiping the fingers. But in later times when we visited the villages, we have seen women run off to wash their hands, that the English lady might have a proper welcome.

_Neighbours._—I began to confine myself so closely to the acquisition of the language and work in the Mission School, that for a long time I knew nothing of the district round Blantyre. The first occasion on which I saw a little of the country was on a visit to Sochi in company with Dr. Macklin, who went to settle several quarrels with Kapeni, the chief of the country. In going along I was astonished to find so many villages. When the villagers saw us, they made a point of hasting up to say “Morning, morning!” (which is their usual salutation to Englishmen). The males seemed to have all their time at their disposal. With the exception of one who was sewing a piece of cloth, we saw nothing to show that the men did any work at all. But the women were pounding corn or working in the fields.

On reaching the chief’s village we asked for him, but he could not be found. It was thought that he was afraid to show himself. One by one his villagers gathered round till they formed a great assemblage. Some had bows, others knives, and one had a gun, so that they had nothing to fear. We were without weapons of any kind, only an Englishman is always believed to carry a great supply of war medicine. After we had waited a long time, the old chief appeared with a large clear knife in his hand. He sat down at a great distance; when asked to come near he said “No”. Some time ago he had sent the Mission a present which had not been accepted, and he “was ashamed to have it returned”. Our interpreter went over and induced him, after much persuasion, to come beside us; then he sat down on a skin under a large tree. After being introduced, I went up to shake hands with him, and I am not sure whether the poor old man did not regard me with suspicion, for while he gave me his left hand, he held his knife very firmly with the right. Such was my first acquaintance with the king of the country. The sending back of the present was then discussed. The Mission had two complaints against Kapeni: (1) His men had carried off from Blantyre a slave woman that had come there for protection. (2) One of the Blantyre lads when hunting in the district of Sochi came to a village where the chief’s son and certain companions were drinking beer, and they took away his gun and gave him a beating. But the inhabitants of this village feared that the matter would not end well. They reasoned that the outrage had been done in _their_ town, and that the English would come with guns and inflict a severe punishment upon them. Accordingly they took back the gun and returned it to the Blantyre lad, whom they escorted home. The old chief of course denied any knowledge of these facts. He had just “heard about them”. After a little talking, matters were settled in a friendly way, and we ended by inviting the chief over to Blantyre. He said he wished to see the white lady, and to hear the harmonium which had just come, and he bargained to be gratified in these respects. He was much astonished when told that the lady, or “Donna,” never _went out_—he thought it strange that she should not be seen hoeing the fields and pounding corn.

On our way home we passed the village where the gun had been taken, and the doctor invited the men that restored it to come and see how the English people valued their friends. On an appointed day they came and received a present of calico. The chief of Sochi also paid his visit and brought a present of fowls, receiving in return a blanket and a piece of calico.

_Interpreters._—When we arrived there were two interpreters—Tom and Sam. They had been in a slave gang which was liberated by Bishop Mackenzie. Tom remembered his capture. He was playing beside a stream with his little sister when a man seized him. He knew the reason at once. “The man wanted to take me to the coast and sell me for calico.” “Why did you not scream?” “Can’t scream, they put flour on my mouth.” Thus the boy was separated from his parents and his home, and the little stream that he played beside, at once and for ever. He could never tell where was the home of his infancy; only he believed that it “was far away in the Yao country”. Sam’s story was much the same; and they both remember how glad they were when met by the white men who set them free. They had acquired a knowledge of the English language at Capetown, and had seen a great deal of civilised life there—perhaps a great deal too much. To these young men I had to look for instruction in the native tongue. I early recognised that I need not expect to do the people any good unless I could speak to them. During our voyage up the river I collected a few words and formed a scheme of the verb. But on attempting to make some use of this material I was told that the Blantyre people did not understand my Chinyasa because they spoke Yao. I felt as if the interpreter had been playing a practical joke upon me. Here I had a note-book filled with this Chinyasa, and I was now coolly told that it would be of no use! I began next to find that some Yao words were the same as their Chinyasa equivalents, and this made me reserve my manuscript with more hope.

[Illustration: NATIVE FEMALE (TRIBAL MARKS, TATOOS AND LIP RING).]

For some days after recovering from fever I was unable to walk to school, and I got Katunga, a big chief who came in to tell us about Doto Livisto (Dr. Livingstone), to point out the names of common objects as mountain, tree, &c. He laughed very heartily at my imitation of his words. In beginning to form a vocabulary, I took a Dictionary and went over it day after day with the interpreters, noting down all the native words I could find. I also wrote a translation of several passages of Scripture from their lips. But I found they often had difficulties. When I wished to translate the “Hail master” of Judas, they said that there was no word for “Hail,” but (referring to English salutations recently introduced) they assured me I would make nothing of it unless I said “Morning Master”. The “kissed him” was a similar puzzle. For _kiss_ they gave me one word which, as I afterwards discovered, meant _to bite_, and another which meant to _smell_! They could come no nearer the idea. No mother here kisses her child. One has only to look at the photograph of a native female to see that she cannot kiss.

Notwithstanding their residence at Cape Town these men were often unable to translate the most ordinary English into their own tongue, and yet they were better interpreters than any we could expect to train for several years. When I once tried hard to find a word for _guilty_, they could give nothing but the word _bad_. One gentleman said that they had occasionally been offenders in Cape Town. He was sure that if I followed the usual legal forms, and mentioned the sentence of working for a month at the docks, they had sufficient experience to tell me! But though I supposed cases as like this as I could without betraying the matter, I failed to get the information required. What I most deplored was that if these men had got the word in the middle of an address, it would have given them no trouble! From the translations I wrote down I afterwards formed a conception of how they would treat such an expression as, “His delight is in the Law of the Lord”. They would break it up into two sentences, of which the first would be “Light is low,” and the second some very unintelligible statement about God. I could not have believed that such nonsense was possible unless I had actually come into contact with it. The African interpreter who said, ‘The salvation of the soul is a great sack,’ is I fear quite an average specimen of his class. But this is due more to the difficulties of the English language than to any natural incapacity in the African. I have employed many to translate from one negro dialect to another and they could do this very well. The native congregations that listened to the interpreters must have been much puzzled at first. Once they heard an address on the healing of the leper—and every time the word ‘leper’ occurred it was rendered ‘leopard’.

When the magic lantern was used for the entertainment and instruction of the natives, they at first looked on with fear. When told “This is a man that lived long ago,” they actually thought that people were brought back from the dead. But soon they enjoyed seeing English people and English buildings. One day we showed them ‘the house of John Knox’. The interpreter of course had never before heard of such a man, but he was not the person to hesitate, and he said, “This is the house of John the Ox!” (John Ng’ombe).

Still in telling people how to hoe and to carry grass and on all ordinary occasions, the aid of interpreters was most useful. They were also much valued for their advice in difficulties that arose with the natives. They understood matters of this kind better than Europeans did. When I arrived they were just making ready to leave the country and their departure was a great loss to the Mission.

_School._—Next to the acquisition of the language came school work. This had formerly occupied about two hours in the forenoon, but I introduced an afternoon school. At first we felt teaching very hard, owing to the heat, and often we were almost fainting. But we succeeded in keeping our pupils interested. Had we possessed books in the native language we might have done much more good, for our pupils must have found it a hard task to read English. But in a short time we introduced a little of the African. One of my first attempts was to write out a simple English verse with a Yao translation. Mrs. Macdonald printed this in large letters, and in a short time the pupils could both read and sing,

“Set thou thy trust upon the Lord, And be thou doing good; For so thou in the land shalt dwell, And verily have food.”

When I asked which of the verses was best, Anyasa pupils said they liked the English, but the majority of the school preferred—

“Tululani mtima wenu Mulungu, Tendani yambone mowa gosepe Iyoyo somchitama muchilambo Mwambone somchikola yakulia.”

The words of this other verse were much longer, but they conveyed a meaning to the natives, while the English words conveyed none. Notwithstanding all that I could do with the interpreters, the translation would come out in eleven syllables. Now there was a puzzle to find a tune. It happens that a metre like this is common in Scottish songs, and we tried an adaptation of the “Flowers of the Forest,” which acted admirably. I never saw any melody tell so much on the natives. It actually brought tears to their eyes the first day we sang it. The harmonium was a great attraction in the school. The children seemed more amendable to music than their parents. The old folk were fond of coming to hear this wonderful instrument, but when something lively was played they frequently looked grave, while they were almost certain to laugh at a plaintive air! Only the great novelty of the instrument itself affected them so much at first, that they could not appreciate emotional effects. The pupils began to do a little arithmetic. The numerical system in central Africa is quinary. Hence the English notation puzzled them at first, but not so greatly as might have been expected. As natives seldom count, their own numerical system had not engaged their thoughts so much as to oppose the new one. In the Yao language there are three distinct methods of numeration. One of these calls in the aid of the human voice in order to bring out certain numerical distinctions, and would require a ventriloquist to do justice to it!

But it is high time to point out that the Minister himself had now gone to school, and to describe his progress thereat. Looking back upon this period I may now characterise it as follows:—First “half”—Darkness; Second “half”—Groping; Third “half”—Efforts at making a fire; Fourth “half”—Beginning to see the bystanders; Fifth “half”—Forming friendships; Sixth “half”—Instructing our friends; Seventh “half”—Farewells.