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Updated: June 1, 2025
Kalaza shouldered his stick and went off quickly in the direction of the native location. Maliwe drove home his flock at sunset, and penned them safely in the kraal, which was constructed of heavy thorn bushes. The old kapater goat, which acted as bellwether of the flock, strode proudly into the enclosure, well ahead of the others, and took his station on a rock which rose up in the middle.
When he reached a certain spot he paused, and began probing in the loose dung with his stick. He then called out to Jim Gubo, who joined him, and the skin and other remains of the slaughtered animal were soon brought to light. Maliwe, when confronted with his master, looked him straight in the face.
He also said, that although a Fingo, he always preferred the society of Kafirs, and that for this reason he had come to spend the night with Maliwe instead of with the Fingoes in the village location. By and by the mealies began to "pop" in the pot, so guest and host began to chew them. "It is sad to be old and have such bad teeth," said Kalaza, as he paused in his chewing.
"Tell me about Maliwe," he said. "Maliwe," replied Jim, "is the shepherd of Gert Botha, whose farm is near the Gangili Hill, where the two rivers join." Kalaza pondered for a few seconds, and then asked: "But what makes you think he steals?" "Well, you know what a Kafir is. Maliwe lives alongside the sheep, in a hut on the mountain all alone. The kraal is far from the homestead.
A man emerged from the darkness, keeping the dog at bay with his kerrie. Maliwe, seeing nothing suspicious about the stranger, called off the dog, which retired still growling into the hut. The man approached. "Greeting, Maliwe," he cried. "Do you not know me?" "Greeting," replied Maliwe, "but I do not know you. "Hear him," cried the visitor. "He does not know me.
On this he lay down, chewing his cud and surveying the sheep which lay thickly around him. Maliwe then closed the gate, tied it securely with a reim, and pulled several large bushes against it. He then walked on to his little hut, situated only a few yards distant.
"There is one man whom I know to be a thief, but though I have tried to, over and over again, I cannot catch him." "Who is that?" "Maliwe, the son of Zangalele, the Kafir whose brother Tambiso gave evidence against you when you were tried by the judge." Here the beady eyes of Kalaza gave a kind of snap, and he leant forward with an appearance of increased interest.
He has been in Botha's service since just after he was circumcised, three years ago. He gets a cow every year as wages, and each cow as he receives it is given to old Dalisile, who lives on another part of Botha's farm, and whose daughter Maliwe is paying lobola for. They say he means to earn two more cows and then to marry the girl. But I fear he is hopeless."
Gert Botha, after a three years' experience of Maliwe's honesty and carefulness, very seldom took the trouble to count his sheep. "Friend of my father," said Maliwe, "I have never yet taken what belonged to another. If you say my father stole, it may be so but such must have happened when he was young. He is now dead. When I was a lad he told me he would kill me if I stole."
His pipe finished, Maliwe arose and fetched a musical instrument from the hut. This consisted of a stick about three feet long, bent into a bow by a string made of twisted sinews. About eight inches from one end was fixed a small dry gourd, with a hole large enough, to admit a five shilling piece cut out of the side furthest from the point of attachment.
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