EARLY one morning, we heard drums, horns, and other crude instruments of music. Upon investigation, we found that a great company were on their way to thank the spirit of the deceased rain doctor for the rain he had sent them. We were anxious to see what they did and how they did it, so we went over to the grave.
We found about two thousand natives going through almost every maneuver imaginable. They had enormously big drums, rams' horns, calabashes with pebbles in them, little tins strung on a string so as to jingle, knobkerries, assagais, and guns. They wore garments of every description and make, big headgears of feathers, bunches of colored feathers, brass tacks, beads, collarets of lion and jackal skins.
The men danced and marched together. Every little while, two or three ran out, spearing and stabbing the spirits, and going through various antics, jumping and pawing the air, while their eyes bulged out as from fright. All the time, the crowd was swaying, leaping, shouting, drumming, and tooting. Each new arrival would paw the air and stab the spirits for a while, then fall into the procession.
The women followed on behind, singing and dancing. The dancing I imagined was like the "turkey trot" and the "tango" that we read about in civilized countries.
After two or three hours of this, they were tired; and then beer was brought, and all sat down in front of the grave, and "thanked" by clapping their hands for a few moments as each supply was brought. Later they danced again.
This is thanking for rain. When they cry for rain, they have a different ceremony; and when they mourn for the dead, a different one still.
Heathenism! Is its real meaning known?—Never, until it is actually seen. It makes the heart sick. This pen picture is so feeble! But how sad that heathenism is real, and that millions are dying in its grasp, with no hope, and without God!
O friends, why is money spent for luxuries when these heathen need the gospel? Where are the strong young men and women to give the blessed tidings of salvation to these poor benighted souls? Oh, if you could only understand!
