Wool-Sheep Would, Without Doubt, Thrive On
These Highlands.
Part of the Upper Shire valley has a lady
paramount, named Nyango; and in her dominions women rank higher and
receive more respectful treatment than their sisters on the hills.
The hill chief, Mongazi, called his wife to take charge of a present
we had given him. She dropped down on her knees, clapping her hands
in reverence, before and after receiving our presents from his lordly
hands. It was painful to see the abject manner in which the women of
the hill tribes knelt beside the path as we passed; but a great
difference took place when we got into Nyango's country.
On entering a village, we proceeded, as all strangers do, at once to
the Boalo: mats of split reeds or bamboo were usually spread for us
to sit on. Our guides then told the men who might be there, who we
were, whence we had come, whither we wanted to go, and what were our
objects. This information was duly carried to the chief, who, if a
sensible man, came at once; but, if he happened to be timid and
suspicious, waited until he had used divination, and his warriors had
time to come in from outlying hamlets. When he makes his appearance,
all the people begin to clap their hands in unison, and continue
doing so till he sits down opposite to us. His counsellors take
their places beside him. He makes a remark or two, and is then
silent for a few seconds.
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