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Seven Years in South Africa.

the panels of the waggon. Their dishonesty, as I have said, is ingrained, so thoroughly has it been instilled into them or forced upon them by the Matabele. During any conversation with them it is advisable to keep them at a distance, and to take care that at least one servant is left on each side of the waggon, and that even he is prohibited from talking with them. When, however, they find themselves baffled, and obliged to retire without securing any plunder, or when any of them has been detected in a theft, they will go back to their people, and declare that it is of no use trying to rob the white man, because he has “a good medicine;” meaning that he possesses a charm which enables him to see what is going on in one place while he is engaged in another.

In addition to their other disgusting qualities all the Makalakas south of the Zambesi, especially those under Matabele rule, are indescribably dirty. With the exception of those who have been in service under white men, I believe the majority of them have not washed for years, and I saw women wearing strings upon strings of beads, several pounds in weight, of which the undermost layers were literally sticking to their skins.

Since their subjugation to the Matabele, their mode of building their huts has very much degenerated, and most of their little villages are not much better than collections of ruins. Some few of them may be said to be fairly industrious; but almost the sole remaining virtue at all conspicuous in this sunken people is their extreme modesty and decorum, which is hardly equalled in any other of the South African tribes.