ABOUT the time when I was beginning to realise how actual
mission work differed from the romantic ideas of it too commonly entertained
at home, and overcharged with which many enter the field, a notable
missionary—A. M. Mackay—far away in Uganda was writing these words:—“Current
ideas at home as to mission work are, I fear, very different; but I have not
heard of any part of Africa, east or west, where the native bearing to the
Missions is different from what it is in this neighbourhood. It is a system
of beggary from beginning to end, and too often of suspicion, and more or
less hostility too. Only when these first adverse stages are passed can we
expect to do any real good. Disarming suspicion and securing friendship are
a slow process, but an absolutely necessary one. They are most wearisome and
trying to the faith and temper of those engaged in the task, while they
yield no returns to show in mission reports; yet on their success depends
the future of our work. Hereabout we are so far from the reaping stage, that
we can scarcely be said to besowing. We are merely clearing the ground, and
cutting down the natural growth of suspicion and jealousy, and clearing out
the hard stones of ignorance and superstition. Only after the ground is thus
in some measure prepared and broken up, can we cast in the seed with hope of
a harvest in God’s good time.”
These are words of truth and soberness, as every real worker
can testify from his own experience. At this time, being unable to move
about among the villages with any degree of freedom, we were often compelled
to pass the time on the station, and were assailed by overbearing and
impudent men and women, clamouring for whatever they saw with us which they
coveted. To say we were annoyed is to use a mild term for our experience.
From morning till night the house was beset by natives begging. They allowed
us no privacy, and our rooms were darkened by a crowd pressing round the
windows and flattening their noses against the panes. If one ventured out
his steps were dogged by a clamouring mob. Any attempt to divert their
attention from begging by showing pictures, explaining the working of
apparatus, or manufacture of articles, was treated with indifference. Time
was of no value to them, and so for many a long day the vicinity of our
house was the meeting-place of all who sought diversion through watching the
white man, or begging for the clothes off his back. Men who could have been
well clothed appeared in rags, which they took pains to show. Others would
come in a nude state, hoping to appeal to us thereby. When they wanted cloth
and beads they complained of hunger, which they indicated by drawing
themselves in and simulating an empty stomach. If one offered them food they
disdainfully rejected it, and explained that their hunger was for calico.
Their importunity and arrogance were at times almost maddening, and
sometimes the only relief got was by shutting up the house and going away to
spend a few hours on Njuyu mountain and leaving them alone. We could not
reason them out of their begging habits. They could not entertain our view
of the disgraceful and undignified habit. They would say in flattering
terms, “We are praising you by begging. Do men beg from people who are poor
and mean?”
But while the annoyance was great, their unreasonableness and
selfishness made it well-nigh impossible to bring any sort of benefit within
their reach. When we began to make bricks for housebuilding, and were
thereby able to put some cloth in circulation among them, the work was
repeatedly stopped by some head-man or combination of natives, who desired
that they only should have the benefit of it. The very people who had been
the friends of the Mission at first became our enemies, and did all in their
power to compel us to submit to their demands to supply them with whatever
they wanted. They had given up the spear and had been coming to our Sunday
service, but as we would not enrich them with earthly possessions they
turned against us, and reviled us for having cheated them, as they were now
poorer than when they followed their own ways. Three brothers, Chisevi,
Injomane and Baruke, the heads of the neighbouring villages, became openly
hostile and threatened to go to Bandawe with war, because we would not pay
them for being at peace with us. Injomane—the murderer of his own mother,
cruel and treacherous—set out and attacked a village near Bandawe. On his
return the war-party made a demonstration at the station, by engaging in
war-dances, and speaking against the Mission and the “news.” The effect of
these war-parties going out was that we were left without mails and supplies
at times, as the Tonga at Bandawe, on whom we had to depend for carriers,
were afraid to venture on the road.
From the native point of view, those members of the Chipatula
clan who had befriended the Mission, and had been the means of our gaining
an entrance to the country, were right in attributing their position to
their friendship for us. They were the sons of a once powerful chief who had
lost his kingdom. They hoped that through the Mission they might regain
their former position. They had heard and accepted Dr Laws’s statement, that
by serving God they would attain to greater riches than by using the spear.
They did not apprehend the spiritual aspect of the case and gave expression
to the only need they felt. Their expectations had been disappointed and
they had, in befriending the Mission, become to a certain extent outcasts
from the Ngoni who were all along opposed to the settlement of the Mission.
They had not learned to work and now that their spears brought them nothing,
they were indeed poorer in all that they valued. It was often a trying
situation to meet their attacks and to quiet their feelings, and in it all
we saw how not the words of man but the Divine Spirit, can reveal to men
their spiritual state and make plain to them the Word of Life. It was
peculiarly hard on William Koyi, when alone among them, to hear the Gospel
accused in this way, and with a better intention than judgment he made
presents to them to keep them quiet. He was discovering that it was an
unsafe kind of peace which was thus produced, and when I arrived the whole
question was discussed. We resolved that such a practice must be stopped.
As time went on matters did not improve. When our
determination not to pay anyone for coming to hear the Word preached, or to
give presents in answer to the demand of those who came to beg, became
evident to them, they used other methods in trying to coerce us. Our cattle
were stolen from the herds when feeding, or from the fold at night, and we
were never able to detect the thief. Trees brought in for firewood or
housebuilding disappeared; clothing hung out to dry was stolen, and our
fields and gardens cleared of produce. As we were living among them on
sufferance, there was no healthy sentiment to which w'e could appeal when
wrong was done to us. If we could not detain the thief in the very act there
was no case. During the rainy season we frequently suffered from
cattle-stealing. On a night when rain was falling heavily, the fold would be
entered and the best beast taken out and driven far away before morning, the
heavy rain obliterating all trace of the route taken. The time of service or
prayer-meeting was chosen for entering the corn-field and garden, and
stripping them of our food supply. It would have been very easy at any time
to produce a rupture between us and the natives by a want of forbearance on
our part, and yet there were circumstances at times, in which it was
impossible not to defend our property though not by force of arms. On their
part they made war demonstrations on the slightest occasion. The cattle-herd
may have allowed our cattle to stray into a native’s garden, and he and his
friends would come to the station armed and perform a war-dance as a
preliminary to opening the case. Nothing was so effectual in overpowering
them on such occasions as quietly to allow them to dance till they were
satisfied, and then calmly say “Good morning.” When the season for
beer-feasts came round we had to live through much that was exceedingly
trying to flesh and blood, and could only be endured for the Lord’s sake.
The beer, which was brewed from a kind of millet, was considered “ripe”
after so many hours’ fermentation, and in order to annoy us it was
frequently made so as to mature on Sabbath. Then early in the morning the
guns would be fired or a horn blown to inaugurate what would be a day’s
debauch, and the people congregated for the orgie. As the hours wore on and
the drunken natives began to dance and sing, the sacred day was filled by
unhallowed sounds, while towards evening what had begun as friendly song and
repartee, ended often in fighting and bloodshed. Our quiet was not only
broken by these sounds from the villages, but sometimes a band of drunken
youths, or men and women, would come to the service or to our door and
assail us wdth foul song and epithet, or engage menacingly in war-dances.
In July 1885 an attempt was made by Injo-mane (before
mentioned) to frighten us into resiling from our position on the question of
presents, and the issue of which considerably strengthened our hands. A
party of Tonga had come up from Bandawe with letters and goods. When they
had gone a few miles on their return journey, Injomane and a party of his
young men attacked them. They were robbed of all their clothing and their
weapons, and some of them wounded. Chisevi, a brother of Injomane, came to
the station and informed us of the threatened attack, hinting that while he
had a good heart to us himself, he had, for the sake of his position, to
appear at times as our enemy, and that we would no doubt see how he esteemed
us and reward him for informing us. Before we had time to act for the
protection of our Tonga carriers, one of them who had escaped without wound
returned to give us information. The others, wounded and robbed, escaped
into the bush, not daring to come back through the villages in a nude state.
We considered that the case should be taken to the chief, in order that we
might see of what value were the words of the chief and councillors in
protecting us. Mr Koyi and I thereupon went to Mombera and made complaint,
pointing out that protection to us must mean also protection to any in our
service. Mombera, with his natural shrewdness, asked us why those who had
brought us into the country had now turned against us. We said that they
were harassing us because we would not satisfy their demands for cloth and
beads. He was very angry and called the Chipatulas “rats,” saying that it
was only our presence that preserved them from the attack of his army. He
desired to send an army over to punish them, but we proposed that he should
send a councillor to make an investigation and call the people together to
inform them that we must be protected.
Ng’onomo, his prime minister, being the councillor for the
district in which we lived, was sent to hold a court. All the villagers were
called up, and although Injomane and Chisevi (who had informed us) denied
all knowledge of the affair, after a whole day’s talk, Ng’onomo decided that
Injomane had done wrong and that the cloth and spears should be returned. We
were asked if the punishment was full enough, and we had opportunity of
expressing our regret that the people in whose interests we had come should
not admit us to their friendship, and permit us to carry on our work for
their good. After warning the people against annoying us, Ng’onomo declared
the indaba at an end. An ox was killed, and the judge, prosecutor, and
defendants all feasted together in amity. The Chipatulas had feared other
treatment, as they had sent away all their herds and goods, so that they had
another exhibition of our forbearance and desire to do them good.
If we had been asked by carping critics at this time, “What
are the results of your work?” we could not have pointed to a single
convert, although the Mission had been already three years in the district.
To all appearance it was a failure. From the chief and the councillors we
had stolid indifference, and direct veto against educating the children, or
moving about to preach the Gospel; and from many of our near neighbours we
were receiving marks of base ingratitude and opposition. But was no work
being done and no good being accomplished? Of stated work there was not
much. We were denied access to every village save two outside the area of
Hoho, as the district in which we lived was called. On the station we were
meeting daily with men and women, and youths and maidens, who were employed
in housebuilding. To these we had opportunity of speaking about spiritual
things. There were the boys in the house as servants who were collected for
worship and oral instruction every day. A few young men outside began to
take an interest in these services and attended. From them grew a stated
service on the Sabbath, to which by and by others came, and although open
preaching of the Word had been proscribed, we gradually came out more boldly
and our service was tolerated, and in turn became an object of interest to
others abroad. Only a few of the women came, and the men were fully armed.
The service was often very uproarious. The dogs snarled and
fought with each other, and when this took place the “ backers ” of the
different dogs whistled and encouraged them. Often audible remarks followed
the reading of passages or parts of the address. Sometimes a man would get
up and declare that it was all lies, and demand cloth as they had heard
enough of the Gospel. Some came out of curiosity; others came having the
impression that we gave cloth to all who attended; and sometimes spies were
sent by the chief’s councillors to see and report what was done. This was
known to us for some time, but we did not think any evil would come of it,
until the rumour got abroad that we were inciting the slaves to revolt
against their masters. Mr Koyi had the burden of anxiety for he heard all
that was being said, and was always either the preacher or interpreter, as I
had not then acquired the language. The rumour arose from the Tumbuka
slaves having begun to attend the meetings, and afterwards discussing the
teaching of the ten commandments in the villages. Their masters began to be
suspicious, and for a time we feared that our service would be stopped. “
The common people heard us gladly,” and were realising that in the Gospel
there were hopes unfolded for them which found a response in their hearts.
We were called to account by the councillors, but were able to satisfy them
as to what was said and done, protesting that we had no desire to interfere
in their tribal relationships or to upset the authority of the chief.
As young men we were used in exercising an influence on the
young men very particularly, and gradually gathered round us a band of half
a dozen, who began to speak in defence of our work. They even met together
for prayer and singing of hymns, and were in consequence marked out for
persecution. They were called “bricks,” in derision, as they worked with us
and favoured us. They were often set upon by others, and had many a hard
day, while yet but imperfectly taught in the Word. But it was the beginning
of fruit, and came to brighten our labours. To show how the changed
behaviour of those lads led them into trouble, the following instance is
given. The child of one of them was ill. Although the grandfather was a
native doctor, the father called me to attend his boy. He was suffering from
croup. It being the custom for the father not to appear in the presence of
his mother-in-law, he could not enter the hut where she was. After treating
the child I went away, but on my next visit I could not find my patient. It
had been carried out into a maize field. I saw the poor thing struggling for
breath, and soon after it died. The “smelling-out” doctor was called to
discover the cause of death. He decided that the spirits were angry, and
wanted to punish the father for forsaking the beliefs of the old people and
listening to our preaching. He had also been neglecting to offer sacrifices
to the ancestral spirits. So strong is their faith in their doctors that all
this was believed, and our young disciple had to suffer persecution.
While the direct evangelistic work was circumscribed, there
was practically no limit to the medical work which I carried on in the
district ruled by Mombera. At first people came in crowds. Those who were
sick expected to be healed immediately, and those who were not sick expected
medicine to keep them well. Many cases of a very trivial nature were
treated, but there was a value in the work apart from the relief given to
the individual. For instance, if a slave were sick and unable to work, no
care was taken of him. Such were sought out, and often a master had a useful
servant restored to his service. He put a value on this, and was favourably
impressed with this part of our work. It was easy to get a hearing from such
as he on the other aspects of our work afterwards. A poor woman, left to die
as an evil-doer if she failed in her “hour of nature’s sorrow,” when saved,
together with her infant, by treatment of the proper kind, would thenceforth
be well disposed towards us and our work. A wife represented so many cattle,
and her husband would appreciate the benefit of our work and be our friend.
Little children, relieved from pain and sickness, understood the practical
nature of the work, and would always respond to our words. In such ways, up
and down the country, the work was quietly and surely influencing the
people, and while there was yet nothing to tabulate for reports, the future
harvest was being insured.
Many things compelled the people to talk of us and our work,
and it was plain that while there was no sign of liberty being given to
teach the children and preach throughout the tribe, the feeling among the
people that we were not being sufficiently trusted was gaining ground. We
took advantage of any opportunity to renew our application to be allowed to
open schools. Sometimes that led to their discussing the question, and at
other times it led to threats to withdraw all permission to preach. We began
to be more respected, as those who had received benefit were bold to declare
it, but we did not seem to have made any impression on the chief and
councillors. They continued to declare that they would never receive the
Word of God, while the common people said that until the heads of the tribe
did so they could not. The reason why the head-men would not countenance our
work was no doubt because they knew that the result of it would be to
overthrow their power over the slaves, and to crush the war spirit in their
children ; also, because they were in the hands of the witch-doctors, whom
they trusted to the utmost as the only channel of communication with the
ancestral spirits. Those witch-doctors were against us as they saw their
craft to be in danger.
One of the greatest effects of the medical mission work was
that, by it, the empiricism of the native doctors was overthrown, and the
common people, ignorant and superstitious, were rescued from the bondage of
their shrewd but deceitful incantations. Native doctors fail in diagnosis
more than in power to heal. Yet in the presence of the majority of diseases
they are helpless, and in that case they fall back on the professed will of
the spirits that the patient is to die.
Towards the end of this year (1885), having received
encouragement from a sister of the chief who was head of a village called
Chinyera, about five miles from the station, we built a round hut there and
Mr Williams went to live in it. When this came to the chiefs ears he sent
for us, and asked if the country had been given over to us that we had begun
to occupy it. We referred him to his sister who had invited us, and we heard
no more of it although it led to increased bitterness among the councillors.
We had thus actually, without formal liberty, opened our first sub-station
and widened the area of our influence. Mr Williams conducted a small service
in his hut, and Mr Koyi remained with me at Njuyu doing the same work. But
during all those months we were the subject of continual discussion among
the people. Sometimes a councillor would spend half a day on the station
speaking on things in general and evidently having some errand which he was
unwilling to reveal. In going away he would ask, “ How long are you going to
stay among us seeing we are refusing your message ? ” What to make of us or
what to do with us, was evidently a problem which they could not solve. They
were no doubt irritated by hearing of the prosperity of their former slaves,
the Tonga, under the Mission at Bandawe. We were considered to be standing
in the way of their compelling their return to bondage, and over and over
again disquieting news of what they were saying and plotting reached us. It
was a common occurrence for a section of the army to be called up for review
and to get secret orders. Not only our own position, but the position of our
brethren at Bandawe gave us anxiety on such occasions. Sometimes the
Chipatulas would suddenly show us great kindness, and inform us that
Mombera’s army was to attack them and us. On several occasions the
neighbours set watch at night and made preparations against being attacked.
Our friends at Bandawe had anxious times too, on our account. Once the
letter-carriers coming up were informed of the expected attack at a village
on the outskirts of the tribe, and in fear returned to Bandawe without
coming near us, and our friends were left in doubt as to our safety.
It was in the end of 1885 that the first expressed evidence
was given that the Gospel was winning its way into any heart. At the close
of the boys’ meeting on a Sunday evening, Mr Koyi had the joy of hearing
from Mawalera, who had been in his employment, that he wanted to pray to
God. After he had poured out his heart in broken accents others joined in
the exercise, asking that God would teach them to pray, and give them hearts
to love and fear Him.
Notwithstanding this new joy and the strength it brought us,
we were soon in deep anxiety on account of the persecution which was
levelled at the youths who had begun to confess Christ among their fellows.
In Matabeleland no sooner did a native confess Christ than the chief ordered
his execution, and at that time we were reading about the burning of
converts at Uganda. We told our young friends these things and asked them to
count the cost. They were not borne up by any unusual emotion, but they
expressed themselves prepared to witness for Christ. The occasion was seized
by Chisevi, one of the Chipa-tula clan (our neighbours already referred to)
as suitable for our overthrow on account of our refusal to enrich them. He
went secretly to Mombera and informed him of what had taken place. Mombera
showed his aversion to the informer and his great friendship for us, by
receiving the report without a word. Afterwards on a visit to the station he
referred to it, and the conduct of the boys was defended by Mr Koyi, and
beyond the persecution which the boys met with, no evil resulted as we
feared might have been the case at the time.
The year had seen our hearts bowed down in sorrow by the
death of our brother Sutherland, whose life and work are referred to at
length in another chapter. We had now at its close the joy of seeing the
ingathering of the first-fruits of the work, in which he was for a time
associated with Messrs Koyi, Williams, and myself, before another cloud was
cast over us by the death of Mr George Rollo, who had just come from
Scotland to begin work at Bandawe. He arrived on Mission duty at Njuyu on
December 21st, suffering from fever, which, with one day’s intermission,
continued till the 28th when he died. As marking the attitude of the people
towards us, when Mombera came to know of his illness he requested us to take
him away lest he should die in their country, and when he died we were
accused of bringing him to the station to die, in order to involve them in
trouble which they ignorantly feared might come to them on account of the
death. They proposed that we should take the body away and bury it at
Bandawe, but eventually a grave was opened near the station, and the
object-lesson of a Christian burial given to the natives, who gathered
together at a distance and looked on. |