MRS. W. H. ANDERSON by MRS. W. H. ANDERSON

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Mar 11, 1915

MRS. W. H. ANDERSON

By MRS. W. H. ANDERSON

The Native of the Kraals as I Know Him—No. 4

MRS. W. H. ANDERSON

One never knows what to expect. The missionary must be ready for all emergencies. One morning we got up and found that two herdboys had run off in the night, in the afternoon the police came and arrested two, and that night one went away, so we were left with only one herdboy. We had to send out to the villages. The natives are as “unstable as water.”

Mr. Anderson was getting some stone to build a house, and he had two boys, considerably larger than himself, with him. He asked them to put a stone on the wagon, and they would not lift it. He said, “I can put it on myself, and you are larger than I.” “Well,” they said, “it is your house you are building.” They have no interest in anything for any one else. We can always tell by the way a boy walks, wherever we see him, whether he is on business for himself or some one else.

These people cannot hide a mischief. One day a native hid himself in the house of a white woman for the purpose of stealing. She had been away for a while, and when she returned it was dusk. When she lighted the lamp, there he sat under the curtain, which was around a little table, with his feet out.

One time Elder Tripp missed some salt. The native loves salt. Elder Tripp did not know who the culprit was; but while he was about his work, he ran across one of a pair of socks which he had sold to a native, filled with salt. He called him up and asked him where those socks were that he had sold to him. “I don’t know, I can find only one this morning.” “Well, here it is: I found it with salt in it.” “O, yes, I remember now,” the native replied. “Yesterday a boy was coming from Bulawayo who had some salt, and he gave me some, and I had nothing to put it in, so I took off my sock and put it in that.” Elder Tripp was pretty sure that it was not that way, but what could he say? He resolved to investigate further. After all was quiet that night, he went to the salt bag and carefully put a piece of gunny sack over the salt, then put fresh red paint on it, and closed the bag again. Of course he was up early the next morning to see his salt bag. He called up all the boys and told them to hold their hands straight out in front of them, which they did. He began to look at each boy’s hands. One fellow began to put his behind him, but Elder Tripp insisted that all hold them out until he had a good look. Finally it came that fellow’s turn, and sure enough, there was the paint. He turned to the rest and said, “Do you see that?”—“Yes.” “Come with me.” He took them to the salt bag. “Do you see that?”—“Yes.” “Do you see where that fellow had his hand last night?” No, he had not been in the salt bag; the paint was there, but he did not know how it got there.

Another time Elder Tripp and Mr. Anderson were building some huts, and wanted some thatch grass with which to roof them. One day a girl brought a bundle of it, and when she received her pay she was told to take the bundle out and put it on the pile with the rest. She took it out and walked around the pile, and then came back in and had some more to sell. She knew that they could not identify the grass, but she forgot that she brought the same face back, and they could identify that.

You ask if there are no good qualities in our black brothers. Yes, there are, but it takes the gospel to bring them out. There is nothing in their dealings with one another or in their home life to bring out these qualities. So when they first come to us, we have to work hard and patiently with them. In general, the native mind is keen; and if the missionary can get the native before he begins to smoke native tobacco, which is far worse than what the white man smokes, he can usually make a good boy of him. After the natives smoke this for a year or so, it is almost impossible to teach them the simplest words and numbers. It is a common sight to see wee children and their mothers smoking, and of course this seriously affects the children, and accounts for so many imbeciles among them. We had a boy here in school two years, and at the end of that time he did not know one letter from another. There are many whom we cannot take above the second grade, and very few above the fourth. They simply have not the mental capacity. The face looks bright, and to teach them to work is not so difficult. But for so many generations past their forefathers have not studied that it is hard to stir up their minds to grasp ideas.

The natives as we find them here in the interior are very independent, shiftless, and improvident. They live to eat when there is plenty, and go without when there is famine. They like to abstain from work as long as they can, and when they think the mfundesa is not likely to appear on the scene, they have a “little time all their own.”

One day the herdboy lost a little calf, so Mr. Anderson with several boys went in search of it, after sending the other boys to their work. Chunga, for that was the lad’s name, was sent for the oxen with which we wished to cultivate. I must say that it was a warm day, and a pretty pool of water was tempting, but we were very busy and could hardly afford to spend the time. He did not expect the mfundesa that way, so off went his clothes for a swim. But to his great surprise the mfundesa appeared. Out he came, with clothes in hand, and ran for the place where he first started. He was called back, and this conversation followed: “Did I send you down here to swim?” “I have not been swimming.” Having had no time to dress himself, there he stood in nature’s garb. “What were you doing in the water?” “I wasn’t in the water.” “Where did that water come from that is on your back?” Looking up in the heavens and seeing no clouds, he replied, “I don’t know where it came from.” With that he was sent on his errand.

They think the white man is a very queer being because he wants so much work done. It is very interesting to sit where one can listen to them as they discuss him while sitting around the camp fire at night. Yes, the makua is a great person. He has so much wisdom.

When the British South African Company installed a cylinder saw for sawing trees into plank, it was so wonderful to the natives that they came day after day to see “how fast it sawed, and so smooth, too.” One day the curiosity of one boy got the better of him. He stepped around and put his finger on the saw, to see how fast it went, when to his utter astonishment he saw his finger fall to the floor. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, and he was not seen there again. They always give the white man a new name, and every native, far and near, knows him by that name. It is always suggestive of some trait of character; as, Manyepa, baldhead; Atontola, quietness, one who talks but little. But they are ever talking of the makua’s wisdom.