Moffat's Third Journey to Mosilikatse

As may be seen from foregoing extracts, missionaries in Bechwanaland were going through a period during which their faith was heavily taxed. With the exception of the neighbouring station of Motito, where Fredoux represented the Paris Society, Kuruman had again become the northernmost outpost of missions on the road to the interior. Ludorf had retired in despair, his Barolong under Montswe having fled to the desert. Edwards and IngUs had been deported by the Boers, and warned never again to enter Bechwanaland, Livingstone had penetrated the enormous and unknown region on the Upper Zambezi, and was practically lost to Bechwanaland, and indeed to South Africa.

But Moffat and Ashton went on with their work at Kuruman. With the former the desire to complete the translation of the whole Scriptures into the Sechwana language had become almost a devouring passion, now that he saw the people capable not only of learning to read, but of reading with intelligence what was printed. Hamilton had been gathered to his rest. Ross and Helmore were on the Vaal River with the Batlaping. Moffat stood alone of the old pioneers. His three coadjutors were of a later generation. But his ardour was not diminished, though he sorrowfully confessed that he was beginning to feel older. Little did he think then that he was to survive two of these comparatively youthful comrades by more than twenty years, as well as his son-in-law, Fredoux, of Motito, and his own son Robert, who at this time was striving as a Government official to serve and benefit the natives.

Towards the end of 1853 the tidings reached Mary Moffat that her beloved father had ended his pilgrimage of ninety years.

Born in 1763 at Dunkeld, the son of a Highland farmer, he grew up deeply imbued with the Covenanter spirit, every mountain and glen reminding him of his persecuted forefathers. After attaining the age of manhood he set his face southward, and eventually settled in Lancashire, having married, in spite of his anti-episcopal leanings, Mary Gray, a lady of that communion, a woman of strong piety. He himself came under the influence of Roby, of Manchester, and became a decided Christian and an ardent promoter of the cause of missions. It was a severe trial to his attachment to that cause to be called upon to part with his only daughter; but after a struggle he and his wife gave her up. Her mother did not live long enough to see how highly honoured her daughter was to become; but he was privileged for more than thirty years to watch her labours, and to thank God that he had been able to consecrate her to this work. Between father and daughter during the whole of that period there subsisted a most tender affection, which neither time nor distance seemed to cool. In his early days a prosperous man, he was latterly impoverished by the fault of others; but by the kindness of some of the most faithful friends who ever graced that name he was never allowed to want; and though bereft of all his children, he was attended to the last hour of his life by one who had served his departed wife, and had promised her never to leave him. For twenty years she discharged her trust, until the day when she stood at his grave with a little company of those who, for his own and for his daughter’s sake, had tenderly watched over him in his dechning years, and amply made up for the absence of his own kindred, who were represented by two of his grandchildren only.

It was becoming apparent that intense application to the work of translating the Old Testament was telling upon Moffat’s health in a manner that could not be misunderstood. He had again and again received a cordial invitation from the Directors of the Society to intermit his work and to pay a visit to the coast, or even to England; but his eyes were turned towards the interior. Northwards there was no European representative of the Church. Two or three native teachers were all that remained, and their footing was precarious, to remind men of the late missions among the Bahurutse, Bakhatla, and Bakwena, which had been swept away by the Boers. Moffat could not but think with sadness of the doors lately so wide open now closed to the gospel. Again, the question was beginning to arise. What had become of Livingstone, who so Ions before had started for Linyanti, and of whom nothing was known at Kuruman but that he had in a sense burnt his boats by sending back the native servants who had accompanied him from the south, and was thus perfectly alone among the tribes on the Zambezi?

In addition to all this messages had been coming of late years from Mosilikatse, chief of the Matebele, to his old friend Moshete, or Ramary. It will be remembered that some fifteen years before Mosilikatse had emigrated northwards, and had drifted out of ken. The advancing explorers of later years ascertained that he had settled in the country on the southern watershed of the Zambezi River, and roving bands of Matebele had been met on the outskirts of the country. The predatory disposition of the tribe had made it impossible for them to have any immediate neighbours; and the Matebele were thus secluded from the world by a zone of uninhabited country roamed over by game and beasts of prey. Not long after his departure to this remote region the Boers, emboldened by what seemed to them a sign of fear, had thought by a rapid and well-organized expedition to make a raid into the new country which Mosilikatse had chosen for his retreat. At first it seemed as though they would be successful, but in a few hours the alarm was sounded far and wide, and the invaders, or rather their advance party on horseback, found it necessary to abandon what spoil in cattle they had obtained, and the expedition returned with the conviction that, for the present at least, the Matebele were best left alone; and for years after even their whereabouts became a matter of uncertainty.

In the month of May, 1854, Moffat again bid farewell for a season to his faithful partner. It was a great relief to her anxieties that he was provided with very suitable and pleasant company. Two young men — one the late James Chapman, and the other Samuel Edwards, son of Edwards the missionary, long Moffat’s coadjutor at Kuruman — were to accompany him for purposes of trade. He was not as strong as he had been in times past; the journey was to a comparatively unknown country seven or eight hundred miles away, and might be extended even further, and he would in all probability, as proved actually the case, not see the face of a single white person from his departure to his return, except of those who went with him. Their company proved most acceptable and helpful to him, and they in turn obtained access for trade to a country from which they must otherwise of necessity have been excluded.

It was necessary for them to keep a westerly route in order to avoid as far as possible interception by the Boers, who had declared that no Englishman, whether trader or missionary, should travel into the interior without their permission, which in this case would certainly not have been given. The route lay within

the confines of the Kalahari Desert, and involved dragging for days through heavy sand and with great scarcity of water. At Kanye the travellers found the various sections of the Bangwaketsi tribe, who had for years been scattered, again reunited on the spot where long before Moffat had visited the chief Makaba. This circumstance is a remarkable instance of a feature characteristic of the Bechwanas. The Bangwaketsi, themselves at one time a dominant and warlike tribe under Makaba, were scattered in the great battle in which he fell, encompassed by a host of invaders from the east. Scarcely had his people recovered from this crushing blow when they were again driven into exile by the onslaught of the Matebele, and scattered in parties, hundreds of miles apart, mostly as refugees with other tribes. Yet in the course of time they were to be found gathered together, a compact people, under the grandson of Makaba, on the same spot. A similar history might be given of nearly all other Bechwanas.

Above the frowning precipices of Lithubaruba Moffat found Sechele and his people. They had retired to this mountain fastness after the attack of the Boers at Kolobeng. Sechele was in a position of more than ordinary difficulty. His teacher, Livingstone, had been taken from him, and he was alone, or almost alone, among his people as a Christian. After the attack of the Boers he had made the journey all the way to Cape Town to lay the case before the Queen’s representative, confident in the justice of his cause. He had been coldly received, and had been led to believe that the English, whom he had always hitherto regarded as the faithful friends of the black man, were in sympathy rather with his oppressors. Had it not been for the steady and consistent friendship of those at the Cape who were missionary at heart, he would have found himself a destitute stranger in a strange land. In after years he was never tired of telling of the kindness of these, particularly the Rev. William Thompson, whose judicious advice and aid were of untold value to him. He came back to his own people to find his influence as a chief impaired. He was discredited as the friend of the white people, at whose hands the Bechwana tribes were suffering these things. He had already severely tried the patience of the great heathen majority of his people by his adoption of Christianity and his violation of the unwritten law of custom, which was a sort of religion to them in the absence of any other. It was wonderful that he clung tenaciously to the faith into which he had been baptized by Livingstone. It was not wonderful that, while trying to be at once chief and teacher, he swerved from the high standard required in converts.

77?^ VELLERS GROPING THEIR WA V. 203

and that there was too much diplomacy and paltering with heathenism.

Moffat’s heart was grieved by much that he saw and heard; he forbad the chief to continue his ministrations from the pulpit, and arranged for a native teacher to take up his abode in the Bakwena town until the way appeared more clearly. He then went on his way across a hundred and twenty miles of desert country to Shoshong, the residence of Sekhomi, chief of the Bamangwato tribe. From Shoshong he had to cross a wilderness without road or chart, Sekhomi for his own reasons was unwilling to let the way be opened to Matebeleland, but confined himself to withholding guides and warning the few scattered Bushmen and Bakalahari on in front against giving aid. Consequently the travellers had to betake themselves to the use of the compass, directing their course over an unknown country in a general north-easterly direction.

For eighteen days they groped their way through a region new to them all, but in spite of Sekhomi’s prohibition they received some guidance from the scattered children of the wilderness, of whom they met with a few even in this desolate land, until they had crossed the Shashe, a broad river-bed filled with white crystalline sand, after crossing which they had to trust to their own ingenuity. The following extracts from Moffat’s journal will give some idea of their travelling:

“July Ztli, Saturday. — Our guides returned, and we proceeded in the direction they had pointed out, but they professed not to know the country beyond. We had not gone far before we found ourselves embayed in hills, with a river on the left, the banks of which would not allow us to pass. After some twisting and turning and running to the tops of hills to look out, we got on till we were again obliged to turn down to the river or to retrace our steps and strike out in another direction. The bed of sand was about twenty yards across, plenty ot water in pools and hollows, but the passage down the bank was bad. After crossing the river we found the other side with our course northward good. We halted at noon to allow the oxen to drink, as they had had no water since yesterday morning, and we were uncertain about the future. We afterwards continued our course, but finding it lead us too far to the left we struck into an opening in the hills through which we passed with difficulty, cutting down trees and rolling stones out of the way, but the waggons had to rattle over boulders hid in the long grass through which we have sometimes to wade as if through water. After struggling on till near sunset we halted within reach of the river, surrounded by hills near and distant, but no signs of human abode or of any living thing except a solitary bird. In one or two places we saw where human beings must have bivouacked long ago, but with the exception of an occasional jackal or hyaena howl all is silence and solitude.

“July <^th, Sabbath. — This morning the wind as usual strong from the east, with a thick, gloomy sky, as if it would be a pour of rain. It continued cloudy most of the day. About an hour before sunset the under clouds cleared away, and the upper layer collected away eastward, over which a bright moon rose to cheer us, for her presence is most welcome to travellers in a land like this. We had our services as usual. We could see nothing human in the hills and vales around. It is ten days since we saw an abode or hut. It is comforting to feel assured that we have been remembered to-day by God’s praying people at the Kuruman.

‘■’■July loth. — After examining our course and the rocky descent to the river Enkwezi, and the rather suspicious-looking hills beyond, we resolved not to run the very great risk of getting our waggons broken. While getting all things ready one of the men was sent ahead to examine a northerly course through some hills of coarse sandstone. He returned with a favourable report, and we started northward, with a good deal of winding to avoid trees and large blocks of stone which ever and anon lay in our path. After travelling some miles, and having again turned into another opening in the hills in a north-easterly direction, footpaths were seen, and soon after voices were heard in a defile. Sam and another proceeded on horseback to the spot, and came upon some Bamangwato, who appeared at first sadly afraid, but were induced to come to the waggons. We gave them some flesh of a gnu we had shot, and got two of them to direct us to a large village of the same people, where there was one of Mosilikatse’s Indunas and some cattle. With grateful hearts we saw that all was right, and that much sooner than we had expected.”

In spite of their anxiety to proceed it was several days before the travellers reached headquarters. The Induna in charge of the outpost was sadly exercised in his mind. The long-looked-for friend of Mosilikatse had indeed come, but the Induna was afraid of a mistake, and in one respect Moffat was greatly changed — the long black beard was gone. However, messengers were despatched to announce his arrival, and an answer came that the party was to proceed, which they did for several days.

July 22nd, Saturday. — Last night, after we were all fast asleep, men arrived from Mosilikatse with an ox to be slaughtered, and an injunction to hasten forward, as his heart longed exceedingly to see me. We set off again early next morning. We passed several towns from which the people rushed out to us, walking alongside of the waggons for miles, staring at me as though they would look their very eyes out. In the forenoon we drew near the royal residence. One after another with shield and spear came running to say that the chief was waiting. Sam and I walked on before the waggons, taking little notice of the fuss around us. We of course expected some such display as I had aforetime seen. We entered an immense large fold, and following a headman were led to the opposite side, where sat some fifty or sixty warriors. The town seemed to be new, or half finished. There was nothing like the order or cleanliness I had seen before. We stood for some minutes at a door or opening in the fence leading to some premises behind. In the meantime Mosilikatse had been moved from his house to this doorway. On turning round, there he sat — how changed I The vigorous, active, and nimble chief of the Matebele, now aged, sitting on a skin, lame in the feet, unable to walk or even to stand. I entered, he grasped my hand, gave one earnest look, and drew his mantle over his face. It would have been an awful sight for his people to see the hero of a hundred fights wipe from his eyes the falling tears. He spoke not, except to pronounce my name, Moshete, again and again. He looked at me again, his hand still holding mine, and he again covered his face. My heart yearned with compassion for his soul. Drawing a little nearer to the outside so as to be within sight of Mokumbate, his venerable counsellor, he poured out his joy to him.

“Meanwhile Sam had come up, but he, like me, had anticipated a very different scene, neither of us having heard a word of Mosilikatse’s indisposition. We sat some time with him, while he would expatiate on my unchanged friendship, on which he said he had always relied.”

The chief was almost helpless with dropsy. It was a happy beginning to his renewed intercourse with his old friend that the means adopted for his restoration were wonderfully blessed, and in a short time he was walking about again with something of his old vigour. Moffat remained nearly three months. He found the Matebele in much the same condition in which they were when he had seen them last, more than fifteen years before, on the Marikwa River. His short visits and the transient efforts of various missionaries to gain an influence had left little impression of a religious kind on the minds of the people. The greater part of those who were in the prime of life on the occasion of his earlier visits had passed away in heathen darkness. The rank and file of the nation were now the young men and women who had grown up in captivity, belonging to the Bechwana, Makalaka, and Mashuna tribes, upon whom the ruthless Matebele had fallen in their migrations. There were two captives of a different sort, a Griqua boy and girl, whose release Moffat had vainly sought before. These were of course grown up. William was a man of some influence, and in command of a considerable number of warriors. He still remembered a little Dutch, the language of his childhood, and speedily became more ready in the use of it, and a great assistance in interpreting and in giving information such as could be obtained from no one else in the country. His cousin, Troi, still retained some faint recollections of her father,

2o6 A JOURNEY WITH MOSILIKATHE.

and cherished a desire to see her friends again. The tyrant, in deference to the entreaties of Moffat, allowed her to return in his train, and she was restored to her family like one brought back from the dead after a captivity of nearly twenty years.

With much greater difficulty Moffat accomplished one of the principal objects of his journey: to ascertain something about the circumstances in which Livingstone might be placed, and to forward to him letters and supplies. For some time he was wholly occupied in putting the old chief through a course of medical treatment. The success which attended his efforts in this direction gave him a great advantage; but even with this gained, it was hard to persuade Mosilikatse to take any steps which would send to open up communication northwards. The motto of the Matebele and their chief was — isolation. At last, wearied out by Moffat’s importunities, a small party was sent off to the Zambezi to come within touch of the Makololo, and to make inquiries as to what had become of the Doctor. But this was not enough to meet Moffat’s views, and at last he obtained consent to himself starting for the north-west To his surprise Mosilikatse determined to accompany him, and accordingly for many days this strange sort of royal progress continued. It was slow and not very favourable to the object Moffat had in view, but it gave an opportunity of much more constant and closer intercourse between the chief and the missionary, and broke down the objection of the former to the preaching of the gospel to himself and his people.

After travelling several days and reaching the farthest outposts of the Matebele, in the direction of the Victoria Falls, it was found that there were insuperable obstacles to further progress with waggons. The country was waterless, and there were belts of jungle infested with the tsetse — the fly so destructive to cattle. What might have been done by Moffat himself, had he been alone, was out of the question for him, encumbered as he was with Mosilikatse and his retinue of aged counsellors, wives, and some hundreds of men, with cattle for slaughter. Probably this was all clear enough to the crafty old chiefs own mind. He could not bear the thought of Moshete going on to people beyond him. This is a feeling to be commonly observed in these native chiefs, and is one of the obstacles which bar the way of most travellers in the interior.

Having got so far, and when it became plain that there was nothing for it but to turn back, Moffat was determined to carry out at least a part of his wish, and at last the chief was persuaded to send on a party of men to whom the supplies for Livingstone were committed. These supplies had been made up into bundles for carrying on men’s shoulders. It afterwards proved that these men faithfully discharged their trust. As privileged persons, carrying the packages of a missionary, they crossed the border country in safety, and descended into the valley of the Zambezi, where there were none but their sworn enemies, the Makololo, and at last presented themselves on the south bank of the river at a spot where they could shout across to an island in the river and announce their errand. Small as their party was, they could get no one to approach them, for treachery was still suspected. They laid their packages on the bank, delivered their message across the stream, and departed hungry and tired and footsore. The Makololo, finding them really gone, took the bundles they had brought, placed them on an island, and built a roof over them, and there they were when Livingstone returned some months afterwards from his journey to St. Paul de Loanda on the west coast, thankful, indeed, for the letters and supplies which reached him by this strange kind of parcels delivery.

As the time drew near for departure, Moffat lost no opportunity of speaking to the chief and his people on matters of eternal importance. Many were the warnings and exhortations addressed to those to whom such words were strange. The result can never be known till the day when all things shall be made manifest; but as the missionary prepared to bid farewell, it was with a heart oppressed with an awful weight in the sight of such abject, grovelling degradation mingled with nobler and affecting traits of character. The long return journey of seven hundred miles was accomplished without notable event. Moffat parted with his genial and valuable fellow-traveller, Mr. Edwards, at the Bamangwato, and reached home in safety