WE are in the midst of mountains, or, rather, high hills. Kraals are scattered all around us, and most of the heathen here never heard the Gospel before. There are four white workers here.
We had a pleasant Sunday. In the morning no one came to “church” ―which, by the way, is a plain mud circular hut, thirty feet in diameter, and covered with thatch—as the people were all away at a “meat feast”!
This is a great attraction. The feast in question was arranged thus: old man was ill, and the witch doctor said the spirits of the ancestors were thirsty for blood; so an ox was killed and hung up in a kraal all night, and the blood was allowed to soak into the earth. This the spirits were supposed to drink up. On the following day the people from the neighboring kraals came to eat the meats.
They say that this act of eating the meat is prayer. No words are used, but the act of eating constitutes the prayer! No wonder they are fond of praying! About one hundred people turned up to the feast, and, as we had heard about it early on Sunday morning, we dropped down upon them as they were cooking the food, which had been dragged along the dirty ground, and looked filthy.
As this process was going on we thought it well to gather the people for a meeting in the open air―the more so as the men were beginning to drink Kaffir beer and were getting noisy.
The women are not allowed to go near the cattle kraal, which is a large circular space railed in by wooden posts, so we got the men to come up to the women’s part. About eighty out of the hundred gathered round us, and after singing, and after reading a prayer, I spoke through our native interpreter (John Gasa) on “We must all die, and are as water spilled upon the ground, which cannot be gathered up again; neither doth God respect the person of any man; yet doth He devise means that His banished be not expelled from Him.” This opened up the subjects of death, the future life, the certainty of sin’s punishment, and, above all, of the Atonement.
The rain began to fall for a few moments while I was dwelling on the words “we are as water spilled on the ground, that cannot be gathered up again,” which afforded a good object-lesson for the people, for I showed them that, though the water could not be gathered up, it did not cease to exist, but joined the river down the valley close to us. The natives declare that when they die there is the end—the water is spilled on the ground —but this illustration seemed to help them to see that death is not the end at all. Banishment by the chief is a thing they understand, and so is the idea of a great headman having his sin winked at, while a smaller man is punished for his offence. They listened very well, but it is impossible to give any adequate idea of the darkness of these people.
In the afternoon we went to a kraal, but the people said they had no sin and were all right, for they sent their children to the services. All the time they knew perfectly well that they had never sent any of their children to the services! But any excuse satisfies them. Then they will say they are serving the same God as we are, while I was dwelling on the words “we are as water spilled on the ground, that cannot be gathered up again,” which afforded a good object lesson for the people, for I showed them that, though the water could not be gathered up, it did not cease to exist, but joined the river down the valley close to us.
The natives declare that when they die there is the end―the water is spilled on the ground―but this illustration seemed to help them to see that death is not the end at all. Banish though in a different way. A very different way, indeed! They have not the slightest sense of the sin of lying or stealing.
The white people at Umtata (thirty-five miles away) ask us if we ever yet saw a Pondo converted, or if we ever expect to see such an utterly impossible thing. They think us absolutely foolish in thinking such a thing possible. But I must stop, as my lamp is going out and I have to be up at four tomorrow to start off early to a distant kraal.