CHAPTER VIII

The Women of Toro

Although undoubtedly belonging to one and the same parent stock, as a race the Batoro are in features superior to the Baganda, but physically inferior owing to the different conditions under which their lives have been lived. Women, both high and low, until within recent years, were practically the slaves of the Baganda households, and even now are expected to do the cultivating and cooking of the food. Before the sun has risen the Baganda women start on their digging in their banana plantations or potato fields. This has developed their muscles and at the same time had a healthy effect on the mind, for no one can handle nature without consciously or unconsciously being influenced by it for good.

The Batoro women, on the other hand, have been merely the chattels of the home. The upper classes scorned menial work and left it to their dependents and peasant folk. The middle class did no more than was absolutely essential, which generally resolved itself into cooking the one meal for the day. Their homes offered no occupation for them. The rude grass huts possessed no furnishing, for their wants were of the simplest. Bark cloth stripped off the wild fig tree and beaten out into a soft texture, or animals skins, provided them with clothing by day and covering at night. Their water vessels consisted of the hollowed out gourds that grow round their huts. One cooking pot sufficed for the household. A plaited grass mat took the place of mattress over a bed of reeds strung across a wooden framework and built in along the side of the hut. Grass covered the floor of every house—seldom changed and never aired. Soot and cobwebs hung in festoons round the inside, as there are no chimneys in the huts to carry away the smoke from the open fire in the centre of the floor.

In recent years the upper class women have discarded the bark-cloth as apparel for white calico and coloured prints. When these garments show signs of wear the general custom is neither to wash nor change them for fear of hastening their end, but clean draperies are thrown over them when the wearer appears in public.

Some of the women can work very prettily with grass and fibre. Having discovered various vegetable dyes, they are able to make very attractive designs in basket-work by dyeing the grass different colours. The fibre they make into string and then form beautiful knotted bags in which they have their gourds. It was only by living some time among them that we discovered these hidden trophies of a spasmodic industry. Very few care about rousing themselves and devoting the time and care needed for this work; the fault of the women is their inherent laziness; the generality of them desire nothing so much as to sit still and do absolutely nothing. They are so fond of begging, begging, begging, but when you suggest their _working_, off they go and you never see them any more. Others will remain in their homes ill for days, and no one will have the energy to come down and ask for medicine. An industrial exhibition was suggested by two of our missionaries in 1903, and will be held every year, it is hoped. Most ingenious bee-hives and rat traps were brought in as exhibits, besides all sorts of grass and string work, painted bark cloths and gourds, and so on. The novelty of the exhibition caused great excitement among the people, and the schoolroom was packed to its utmost capacity with competitors and others. His Majesty, Daudi Kasagama, opened the proceedings with an earnest appeal to his people to make the show an even greater success next time by increasing the number of exhibits and raising the standard of proficiency.

[Illustration: THE BATORO AT HOME.

_Photo by D. V. F. Figueira, Mombasa._]

Before the advent of Christianity there had been nothing to break the dull monotony of the women’s existence. As they sat, day after day, huddled together in their dirty little grass homes, their conversation scarcely ever ventured outside the well-beaten track of real or imaginary sickness, and the usual revolting topics that polygamy and heathenism suggest. Modesty, reserve, shame and sensitiveness were not known among them. One’s whole nature recoils from the recollection of Africa’s lost womanhood.

Girls are sometimes betrothed as infants but do not marry till they have reached the age of 14 or 15. The husband is judged rarely according to his merit—that receives small consideration—but chiefly according to his means. The girl’s value is determined by her rank or physical appearance. Her parents or master fix her price at so many heads of cattle or goats. A peasant woman can be had as cheap as one goat; should the husband be fortunate enough, in course of time, to possess a sheep or second goat, he will sometimes take it and his wife and exchange them for a stronger and better woman who will be able to do more work for him, or add more variety, quality or quantity to the day’s menu. A peasant, living on the mission hill, married one of our women, and coming to the missionary in charge, fell down on his knees and eloquently praised him for his gift of potatoes, bananas, and beans. The European looked rather perplexed, and at last had to own up that the present had not come from him. “Oh yes, Master,” answered the man, “it was you who gave me my wife.”

When we arrived in Toro in 1900 there was quite a goodly number of baptised women, including Vikitoliya, the Queen Mother, Damali, the Queen, several of the Chiefs’ wives and ladies of the royal households. Several of these had been taught to read before the arrival of the European missionary, by King Kasagama, who was baptised in 1896 during a prolonged visit to Uganda. On his return to Toro he had become a true missionary King, and gathering his women around him day after day in his courtyard he instructed them in the things he had been taught, while the men went to the two Baganda Evangelists in the little reed church.

When the European missionary arrived he found a large body of eager women as well as men, ready to be prepared for Baptism. Vikitoliya was one of the first whose heart responded to the new religion of love and holiness, as she listened to the earnest words of the King—her son. She is a woman of considerable influence and of decided intellectual ability. Her features present none of the negrotic characteristics, but on the contrary they are sharply defined and somewhat aquiline; her expression, sweet and pleasing, betokens her kindness of heart and gentleness of disposition. She has built for herself an imposing two-storied mud house with a verandah and balcony all round. From the inside doorway hang reed and bead curtains which she made herself after seeing a Japanese model in a European’s house.

She lives about two miles from the capital, and in order to encourage her people to learn to read and attend daily Bible classes she erected on her estate a church, which holds about 400 people. I rode over there one Sunday morning as I had been asked to stand as godmother to the first little son of the sister of the King. When I arrived the Church was crowded—it is a large cane building, with innumerable poles inside to support the walls and roof. It contains no stained glass windows, but the blue cloudless sky, tall, waving banana trees, and the graceful grasses of the Indian corn with its golden heads of grain, made a charming background to the aperture windows and helped the soul in its flight toward God perhaps more than such exquisitely elaborate windows as are seen at Notre Dame, which always struck me with their rich colouring. At the west end stood the font, a black native pot fixed to a wooden packing case which was draped in Turkey twill. Who could help being impressed as the words “Suffer the little children to come unto me” sounded out in the foreign tongue, and a sweet, wee thing, lying on white flannel worked with pink silk, was brought forward by its delighted royal grandmother. At the east end were spread the sacred memorials of our Redemption, speaking with such force of that one Sacrifice which uplifts and unites all nations under Heaven.

Vikitoliya possessed a peculiar love and reverence for our late Queen, after whom she was named. She never tired of listening to stories of the “great white Queen,” and it was her ambition to strive to be to her people something of what Her late Majesty had been to her subjects. Never shall I forget her grief and that of all the leading women when the news of her death reached us. Immediately they came down to us to sympathize, and were at first quite silent in their grief, then with tears running down her cheeks, the dusky Queen subject said, “Your sorrow is our sorrow, we have lost our Mother, our friend.” It is wonderful the influence that such a reign of purity and righteousness has had even on far off Africa, rousing the best chivalry and patriotism in the hearts of its people, and inspiring them to nobler ends.

Christianity is doing for Toro what it has done for every other country where it has effectually entered—it is raising its women from their depths of degradation and beautifying their lives, cleansing and refining their speech and habits. Clean, tidy homes are now seen, and carefully cultivated land in place of the pestilential filth and gaunt elephant grass. Happy family life is springing up among the people, and everywhere there is a stir and progressive vigour.

Upon the Christian women as well as the men has been laid the responsibility of doing something toward spreading the knowledge of Christ among the surrounding heathen. At first a district visitors’ band was organized to go two and two into the near villages when the daily classes in the church were over. They took their books, and either collected the villagers together or entered their houses and taught them their letters and syllables, after having read and spoken to them. I used frequently to go out with them to see what progress they were making; a shrieking bodyguard would at once attach itself to me under pretence of frightening the wild animals off! Our arrival was always hailed with delight, and a dirty mat that acts as bed, couch, and footscraper was generally politely placed for me on which to be seated. The small children generally showed their appreciation of the white lady by opening their commodious mouths as wide as possible and screaming prodigiously. It took one a very long time to find them attractive, they so sadly needed a rub down with Pears’ soap or Monkey Brand.

Sometimes I found 100 or 150 natives eagerly struggling with their reading sheets, all squeezed into an infinitesimally small hut. Somehow they always found room for the European, for they were very impatient to be questioned by her and passed on to a higher class. When the reading lesson was over we used to have a short service with them, and it was exceedingly impressive to listen sometimes to the young Christian women speaking to them naturally of Christ’s love. They never attempted an impossible address or delivered a thorough out-and-out sermon, but with touching simplicity told in their own language what was a living and real thing to them. It seemed impossible to believe that so wonderful a change could have taken place in these Batoro women in so short a time. When the visit was over, all the women, children, and some of the men used to tear off in front to the neighbouring huts to inform them that the European was passing, so on my homeward journey I was accompanied by excited, chattering men and women and a crowd of naked little folk, many of them bringing small offerings of flowers, beans, or eggs to deposit at our door.

Although these folk can make plenty of noise they can make very little music. They have never been educated up to it. The royal band has been their only conservatoire of music, and their few songs were connected with drink or plunder, themes scarcely conducive to the highest poetry. But their singing is great. You should have heard a singing class I used to have on Saturday mornings. About twenty of the ladies used to turn up and exercise their vocal powers. They only knew a few of Sankey’s most unmusical hymns, and to these they resigned themselves with a fixed expression and still more fixed attitude, without making the slightest facial movement. They produced a curious grunt through their nasal organ, quite irrespective of time, key, or tune. I sacrificed myself to making the most hideous grimaces it is possible to form my features into, in order that they might imitate, and so bring a few muscles into action. But neither tonic sol-fa nor any other tonic would bring about results, so I gave up the class very hoarse from my efforts.

In August of each year is held in Toro a Teachers’ Conference. All other work is suspended and the native teachers come in from all the villages and distant districts. In 1901 we decided to invite the women who were church members, so that a united Women’s Conference might be held for the deepening of spiritual life, and discussing methods of work.

We had three separate meetings for women, at each of which a native and a European spoke. The subjects treated were:—1st Meeting—The work of teaching for Baptism and Communion—its methods and responsibilities. 2nd Meeting—The work of visiting and teaching in the gardens—its methods and its importance. 3rd Meeting—The organization of women’s work, and farewell word.

On the last day, at the close of a very solemn afternoon gathering, one woman rose from among the large number present, and in a trembling voice said, “My heart pains me for those around in darkness, and I want to go and teach them of Christ’s love.” A great stillness fell on the meeting, and Damali, the Queen, scarcely able to steady her voice, closed in prayer, thanking God for having called one from among them to be a missionary and asking that others might hear the voice. On the third day nine more women had come to offer themselves as missionaries. One was Ana Kageye, the head woman of the Royal household, one of the leading women of the country. Before coming to us she had been to the King, and received his permission for her to leave him for God’s service. She had, before her conversion, led a desperately wicked life, and, being old and so steeped in witchcraft, one almost supposed her to be beyond the power of reformation. She had first heard of Christ from Kasagama’s lips, and although her eyes were then getting somewhat dim with age, she learned from the King to read the Bible for herself. From that time a complete change came over her whole life and appearance, so that her scarred face became quite attractive. Since then she had proved a most indefatigable teacher and helper in all Church work.

A class was at once arranged for instructing these candidates morning and afternoon for six months in St. Matthew, St. John, Acts, the Pauline Epistles, and a sketch of Old Testament history. At the end of that period they were examined for one whole week. During that time their excitement and anxiety were strained to their highest pitch; they refused to eat at mid-day for fear they might become incapable of hard thinking, and were found in their places at class nearly one hour before the appointed time. After the first week old Ana Kageye took pity on their troubled appearances, and insisted they should all go to her house after the morning class and she would give them a substantial meal. Out of twelve who were questioned two reached ninety-eight per cent. marks and the lowest did not fall below seventy-five per cent. After that they were brought before the Native Church Council and ten were assigned to stations. Two (one being Ana Kageye) were located as foreign missionaries to distant Ankole, two to a hill station four days’ journey away on a southern ridge of Ruwenzori, and the remaining six villages two and three days away. This was a brave step for these Batoro women to take, after having led such indolent and sheltered lives, and in spite of the intense joy that filled their heads, they did not leave without tears in their eyes as they bade good-bye to all their friends for the first time. Surely they teach a lesson to many in favoured England who have not yet faced their personal responsibility to the unreached heathen.

All of these first women teachers did splendidly. After six months’ work they returned for a few weeks, as no native worker is allowed to remain at his post without coming in for occasional rest and restrengthening. The deadly influences of heathenism might prove too strong for such young Christians if they were to live away from helpful surroundings. Eight of the ten again returned to their work, and the other two were married and afterwards went out as teachers with their husbands.

Ana Kageye at first found the women of Ankole eager to learn to read, but not so quick to believe the new religion she brought to them. One day a young Princess fell sick, and their own cures failing she was carried up to the European doctor temporarily stationed at the Government fort. When it was declared by him to be almost a hopeless case the natives gave up all idea of her recovery, saying that if the white man could not cure her nothing would.

Good, brave old Ana then came forward and told them again of the Living God who hears and answers prayer, and they answered together “If your God will heal her we will believe.” The young dying Princess was thereupon carried to Ana’s little grass house, and as night fell the fires died down in every hut but the one in which the sick girl lay, and all night long the faithful old servant of God, as she watched by the bedside, wrestled in prayer for the life before her. What a wonderful act of faith was witnessed that night in the little hut in Darkest Africa! This woman so recently brought to know God even dared through faith to prove her God before these heathen. As the day dawned the women gathered round the hut expecting to mourn over the dead body, but the God of Life had come forth and revealed His power, the girl’s unconsciousness had passed off and she had taken the first step to recovery. The result was that after Ana had been working there nine months she had instructed and prepared for baptism the first five women of Ankole.

Is it not worth leaving home and friends to search among the dust and mire of that dark Continent and find such gems, even if they be but few? “They shall be mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels.”