Lords," he
went on in another voice, "I greet you in the name and presence of my
children. Son Tamas, I greet you also; you have done your mission well.
Listen, now--you are weary and would rest and eat; still, bear with me,
for I have a word to say. Look around you. You see all my tribe, not
twenty times ten above the age of boys, we who once were countless as
the leaves on yonder trees in spring. Why are we dead? Because of the
Amandabele, those fierce dogs whom, two generations ago, Moselikatse,
the general of Chaka, brought up to the south of us, who ravish us and
kill us year by year.
"We are not warlike, we who have outlived war and the lust of slaying.
We are men of peace, who desire to cultivate the land, and to follow our
arts which have descended to us from our ancestors, and to worship
the Heavens above us, whither we depart to join the spirits of our
forefathers. But they are fierce and strong and savage, and they come
up and murder our children and old people, and take away the young women
and the maidens to be slaves, and with them all our cattle. Where are
our cattle? Lobengula, chief of the Amandabele, has them; scarce a cow
is left to give milk to the sick or to the motherless babe. And yet he
sends for cattle. Tribute, say his messengers, deliver tribute, or my
impi will come and take it with your lives.
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