nada the lily-第3节

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than　this　wagon；　we　will　go　and　ask　Zweete。　Bring　a　bottle　of

squareface　and　some　snuff　with　you　for　presents。〃



An　hour　later　he　stood　in　the　hut　of　Zweete。　Before　him　was　a　very

ancient　man；　a　mere　bag　of　bones；　with　sightless　eyes；　and　one　hand

his　leftwhite　and　shrivelled。



〃What　do　you　seek　of　Zweete；　my　white　father？〃　asked　the　old　man　in　a

thin　voice。　〃You　do　not　believe　in　me　and　my　wisdom；　why　should　I　help

you？　Yet　I　will　do　it；　though　it　is　against　your　law；　and　you　do　wrong

to　ask　me；yes；　to　show　you　that　there　is　truth　in　us　Zulu　doctors；　I

will　help　you。　My　father；　I　know　what　you　seek。　You　seek　to　know　where

your　oxen　have　run　for　shelter　from　the　cold！　Is　it　not　so？〃



〃It　is　so；　Doctor；〃　answered　the　White　Man。　〃You　have　long　ears。〃



〃Yes；　my　white　father；　I　have　long　ears；　though　they　say　that　I　grow

deaf。　I　have　keen　eyes　also；　and　yet　I　cannot　see　your　face。　Let　me

hearken！　Let　me　look！〃



For　awhile　he　was　silent；　rocking　himself　to　and　fro；　then　he　spoke：

〃You　have　a　farm；　White　Man；　down　near　Pine　Town；　is　it　not？　Ah！　I

thought　soand　an　hour's　ride　from　your　farm　lives　a　Boer　with　four

fingers　only　on　his　right　hand。　There　is　a　kloof　on　the　Boer's　farm

where　mimosa…trees　grow。　There；　in　the　kloof；　you　shall　find　your　oxen

yes；　five　days'　journey　from　here　you　will　find　them　all。　I　say　all；

my　father；　except　three　onlythe　big　black　Africander　ox；　the　little

red　Zulu　ox　with　one　horn；　and　the　speckled　ox。　You　shall　not　find

these；　for　they　have　died　in　the　snow。　Send；　and　you　will　find　the

others。　No；　no！　I　ask　no　fee！　I　do　not　work　wonders　for　reward。　Why

should　I？　I　am　rich。〃



Now　the　White　Man　scoffed。　But　in　the　end；　so　great　is　the　power　of

superstition；　he　sent。　And　here　it　may　be　stated　that　on　the　eleventh

day　of　his　sojourn　at　the　kraal　of　Zweete；　those　whom　he　sent　returned

with　the　oxen；　except　the　three　only。　After　that　he　scoffed　no　more。

Those　eleven　days　he　spent　in　a　hut　of　the　old　man's　kraal；　and　every

afternoon　he　came　and　talked　with　him；　sitting　far　into　the　night。



On　the　third　day　he　asked　Zweete　how　it　was　that　his　left　hand　was

white　and　shrivelled；　and　who　were　Umslopogaas　and　Nada；　of　whom　he

had　let　fall　some　words。　Then　the　old　man　told　him　the　tale　that　is

set　out　here。　Day　by　day　he　told　some　of　it　till　it　was　finished。　It

is　not　all　written　in　these　pages；　for　portions　may　have　been

forgotten；　or　put　aside　as　irrelevant。　Neither　has　it　been　possible

for　the　writer　of　it　to　render　the　full　force　of　the　Zulu　idiom　nor　to

convey　a　picture　of　the　teller。　For；　in　truth；　he　acted　rather　than

told　his　story。　Was　the　death　of　a　warrior　in　question；　he　stabbed

with　his　stick；　showing　how　the　blow　fell　and　where；　did　the　story

grow　sorrowful；　he　groaned；　or　even　wept。　Moreover；　he　had　many

voices；　one　for　each　of　the　actors　in　his　tale。　This　man；　ancient　and

withered；　seemed　to　live　again　in　the　far　past。　It　was　the　past　that

spoke　to　his　listener；　telling　of　deeds　long　forgotten；　of　deeds　that

are　no　more　known。



Yet　as　he　best　may；　the　White　Man　has　set　down　the　substance　of　the

story　of　Zweete　in　the　spirit　in　which　Zweete　told　it。　And　because　the

history　of　Nada　the　Lily　and　of　those　with　whom　her　life　was

intertwined　moved　him　strangely；　and　in　many　ways；　he　has　done　more；

he　has　printed　it　that　others　may　judge　of　it。



And　now　his　part　is　played。　Let　him　who　was　named　Zweete；　but　who　had

another　name；　take　up　the　story。







CHAPTER　I



THE　BOY　CHAKA　PROPHESIES



You　ask　me；　my　father；　to　tell　you　the　tale　of　the　youth　of

Umslopogaas；　holder　of　the　iron　Chieftainess；　the　axe　Groan…maker；　who

was　named　Bulalio　the　Slaughterer；　and　of　his　love　for　Nada；　the　most

beautiful　of　Zulu　women。　It　is　long；　but　you　are　here　for　many　nights；

and；　if　I　live　to　tell　it；　it　shall　be　told。　Strengthen　your　heart；　my

father；　for　I　have　much　to　say　that　is　sorrowful；　and　even　now；　when　I

think　of　Nada　the　tears　creep　through　the　horn　that　shuts　out　my　old

eyes　from　light。



Do　you　know　who　I　am；　my　father？　You　do　not　know。　You　think　that　I　am

an　old；　old　witch…doctor　named　Zweete。　So　men　have　thought　for　many

years；　but　that　is　not　my　name。　Few　have　known　it；　for　I　have　kept　it

locked　in　my　breast；　lest；　thought　I　live　now　under　the　law　of　the

White　Man；　and　the　Great　Queen　is　my　chieftainess；　an　assegai　still

might　find　this　heart　did　any　know　my　name。



Look　at　this　hand；　my　fatherno；　not　that　which　is　withered　with

fire；　look　on　this　right　hand　of　mine。　You　see　it；　though　I　who　am

blind　cannot。　But　still；　within　me；　I　see　it　as　it　was　once。　Ay！　I　see

it　red　and　strongred　with　the　blood　of　two　kings。　Listen；　my　father；

bend　your　ear　to　me　and　listen。　I　am　Mopoah！　I　felt　you　start；　you

start　as　the　regiment　of　the　Bees　started　when　Mopo　walked　before

their　ranks；　and　from　the　assegai　in　his　hand　the　blood　of　Chaka＇1＇

dropped　slowly　to　the　earth。　I　am　Mopo　who　slew　Chaka　the　king。　I

killed　him　with　Dingaan　and　Umhlangana　the　princes；　but　the　wound　was

mine　that　his　life　crept　out　of；　and　but　for　me　he　would　never　have

been　slain。　I　killed　him　with　the　princes；　but　Dingaan；　I　and　one

other　slew　alone。



＇1＇　The　Zulu　Napoleon；　one　of　the　greatest　geniuses　and　most　wicked

　　　　men　who　ever　lived。　He　was　killed　in　the　year　1828；　having

　　　　slaughtered　more　than　a　million　human　beings。ED。



What　do　you　say？　〃Dingaan　died　by　the　Tongola。〃



Yes；　yes；　he　died；　but　not　there；　he　died　on　the　Ghost　Mountain；　he

lies　in　the　breast　of　the　old　Stone　Witch　who　sits　aloft　forever

waiting　for　the　world　to　perish。　But　I　also　was　on　the　Ghost　Mountain。

In　those　days　my　feet　still　could　travel　fast；　and　vengeance　would　not

let　me　sleep。　I　travelled　by　day；　and　by　night　I　found　him。　I　and

another；　we　killed　himah！　ah！



Why　do　I　tell　you　this？　What　has　it　to　do　with　the　loves　of

Umslopogaas　and　Nada　the　Lily？　I　will　tell　you。　I　stabbed　Chaka　for

the　sake　of　my　sister；　Baleka；　the　mother　of　Umslopogaas；　and　because

he　had　murdered　my　wives　and　children。　I　and　Umslopogaas　slew　Dingaan

for　the　sake　of　Nada；　who　was　my　daughter。



There　are　great　names　in　the　story；　my　father。　Yes；　many　have　heard

the　names：　when　the　Impis　roared　them　out　as　they　charged　in　battle；　I

have　felt　the　mountains　shake　and　seen　the　waters　quiver　in　their

sound。　But　where　are　they　now？　Silence　has　them；　and　the　white　men

write　them　down　in　books。　I　opened　the　gates　of　distance　for　the

holders　of　the　names。　They　passed　through　and　they　are　gone　beyond。　I

cut　the　strings　that　tied　them　to　the　world。　They　fell　off。　Ha！　ha！

They　fell　off！　Perhaps　they　are　falling　still；　perhaps　they　creep

about　their　desolate　kraals　in　the　skins　of　snakes。　I　wish　I　knew　the

snakes　that　I　might　crush　them　with　my　heel。　Yonder；　beneath　us；　at

the　burying　place　of　kings；　there　is　a　hole。　In　that　hole　lies　the

bones　of　Chaka；　the　king　who　died　for　Baleka。　Far　away　in　Zululand

there　is　a　cleft　upon　the　Ghost　Mountain。　At　the　foot　of　that　cleft

lie　the　bones　of　Dingaan；　the　king　who　died　for　Nada。　It　was　far　to

fall　and　he　was　heavy；　those　bones　of　his　are　broken　into　little

pieces。　I　went　to　see　them　when　the　vultures　and　the　jackals　had　done

their　work。　And　then　I　laughed　three　times　and　came　here　to　die。



All　that　is　long　ago；　and　I　have　not　died；　though　I　wish　to　die　and

follow　the　road　that　Nada　trod。　Perhaps　I　have　lived　to　tell　you　this

tale；　my　father；　that　you　may　repeat　it　to　the　white　men　if　you　will。

How　old　am　I？　Nay；　I　do　not　know。　Very；　very　old。　Had　Chaka　lived　he

would　have　been　as　old　as　I。＇2＇　None　are　living　whom　I　knew　when　I　was

a　boy。　I　am　so　old　that　I　must　hasten。　The　grass　withers；　and　the

winter　comes。　Yes；　while　I　speak　the　winter　nips　my　heart。　Well；　I　am

ready　to　sleep　in　the　cold；　and　perhaps　I　shall　awake　again　in　the

spring。



＇2＇　This　would　have　made　him　nearly　a　hundred　years　old；　an　age　rarely

　　　　attained　by　a　native。　The　writer　remembers　talking　to　an　aged　Zulu

　　　　woman；　however；　who　told　him　that　she　was　married　when　Chaka　was

　　　　king。ED。



Before　the　Zulus　were　a　peoplefor　I　will　begin　at　the　beginningI

was　born　of　the　Langeni　tribe。　We　were　not　a　large　tribe；　afterwards；

all　our　able…bodied　men　numbered　one　full　regiment　in　Chaka's　army；

perhaps　there　were　between　two　and　three　thousand　of　them；　but　they

were　brave。　Now　they　are　all　dead；　and　their　women　and　children　with

them；that　people　is　no　more。　It　is　gone　like　last　month's　moon；　how

it　went　I　will　tell　you　by…and…bye。



Our　tribe　lived　in　a　beautiful　open　country；　the　Boers；　whom　we　call

the　Amaboona；　are　there　now；　they　tell　me。　My　father；　Makedama；　was

chief　of　the　tribe；　and　his　kraal　was　built　on　the　crest　of　a　hill；

but　I　was　not　the　son　of　his　head　wife。　One　evening；　when　I　was　still

little；　standing　as　high　as　a　man's　elbow　only；　I　went　out　with　my

mother　below　the　cattle　kraal　to　see　the　cows　driven　in。　My　mot