by Jane Andrews
THE LITTLE DARK GIRL.
In this part of the world, Manenko would certainly be considereda very wild little girl. I wonder how you would enjoy her for aplaymate. She has never been to school, although she is more thanseven years old, and doesn't know how to read, or even to tell herletters; she has never seen a book but once, and she has never learnedto sew or to knit.
If you should try to play at paper dolls with her, she would make veryfunny work with the dresses, I assure you. Since she never wore a gownor bonnet or shoes herself, how should she know how to put them on tothe doll? But, if she had a doll like herself, I am sure she wouldbe as fond of it as you are of yours; and it would be a very cunninglittle dolly, I should think. Perhaps you have one that looks somewhatlike this little girl in the picture.
Now I will tell you of some things which she can do.
She can paddle the small canoe on the river; she can help to hoe theyoung corn, and can find the wild bees' honey in the woods, gather thescarlet fruit when it is fully ripe and falls from the trees, and helpher mother to pound the corn in the great wooden mortar. All this, andmuch more, as you will see, Manenko can do; for every little girl onthe round world can help her mother, and do many useful things.
Would you like to know more of her,--how she looks, and where shelives, and what she does all day and all night?
Here is a little round house, with low doorways, most like those of adog's house; you see we should have to stoop in going in. Look at theround, pointed roof, made of the long rushes that grow by the river,and braided together firmly with strips of mimosa-bark; fine, softgrass is spread all over this roof to keep out the rain.
If you look on the roof of the house across the street you will seethat it is covered with strips of wood called shingles, which are laidone over the edge of the other; and when it is a rainy day you can seehow the rain slips and slides off from these shingles, and runs anddrips away from the spout.
Now, on this little house where Manenko lives there are no shingles,but the smooth, slippery grass is almost as good; and the rain slidesover it and drips away, hardly ever coming in to wet the peopleinside, or the hard beds made of rushes, like the roof, and spreadupon the floor of earth.
In this house lives Manenko, with Maunka her mother, Sekomi herfather, and Zungo and Shobo her two brothers.
They are all very dark, darker than the brown baby. I believe youwould call them black, but they are not really quite so. Their lipsare thick, their noses broad, and instead of hair, their heads arecovered with wool, such as you might see on a black sheep. This woolis braided and twisted into little knots and strings all over theirheads, and bound with bits of red string, or any gay-looking thread.They think it looks beautiful, but I am afraid we should not agreewith them.
Now we will see what clothes they wear.
You remember Agoonack, who wore the white bear's-skin, because shelived in the very cold country; and the little brown baby, who worenothing but a string of beads, because she lived in the warm country.Manenko, too, lives in a warm country, and wears no clothes; but onher arms and ankles are bracelets and anklets, with little bits ofcopper and iron hanging to them, which tinkle as she walks; and shealso, like the brown baby, has beads for her neck.
Her father and mother, and Zungo her brother, have aprons and mantlesof antelope skins; and they, too, wear bracelets and anklets likehers.
Little Shobo is quite a baby and runs in the sunshine, like his littlesister, without clothes. Dear little Shobo! how funny and happy hemust look, and how fond he must be of his little sister, and ourlittle sister, Manenko! We have all seen such little dark brothersand sisters. His short, soft wool is not yet braided or twisted, butcrisps in little close curls all over his head.
In the morning they must be up early, for the father is going to hunt,and Zungo will go with him. The mother prepares the breakfast, smallcakes of bread made from the pounded corn, scarlet beans, eaten withhoney, and plenty of milk from the brown cow. She brings it in a deepjug, and they dip in their hands for spoons.
All the meat is eaten, and to-day the men must go out over the broad,grassy fields for more. They will find the beautiful young antelope,so timid and gentle as to be far more afraid of you than you would beof them. They are somewhat like small deer, striped and spotted, andthey have large, dark eyes, so soft and earnest you cannot help lovingthem. Here, too, are the buffalo, like large cows and oxen with stronghorns, and the great elephants with long trunks and tusks. Sometimeseven a lion is to be met, roused from his sleep by the noise of thehunters; for the lion sleeps in the daytime and generally walks abroadonly at night. When you are older you can read the stories of famouslion and elephant hunters, and of strange and thrilling adventures inthe "Dark Continent."
It would be a wonderful thing to you and me to see all these strangeor beautiful animals, but Zungo and his father have seen them so manytimes that they are thinking only of the meat they will bring home,and, taking their long spears and the basket of ground nuts and mealwhich the mother has made ready, they are off with other huntersbefore the sun is up.
Now the mother takes her hoe, and, calling her little girl to help,hoes the young corn which is growing on the round hill behind thehouse. I must tell you something about the little hill. It looks likeany other hill, you would think, and could hardly believe that thereis anything very wonderful to tell about it. But listen to me.
A great many years ago there was no hill there at all, and the groundwas covered with small white ants. You have seen the little ant-housesmany a time on the garden-path, and all the ants at work, carryinggrains of sand in their mouths, and running this way and that, as ifthey were busy in the most important work. Oh, the little ants arevery wise! They seem to know how to contrive great things and arenever idle. "Go to the ant; consider her ways, and be wise," said oneof the world's wisest men.
Well, on the spot where this hill now stands the white ants began towork. They were not satisfied with small houses like those which wehave seen, but they worked day after day, week after week, and evenyears, until they had built this hill higher than the house in whichI live, and inside it is full of chambers and halls, and wonderfularched passages. They built this great house, but they do not livethere now. I don't know why they moved,--perhaps because they didn'tlike the idea of having such near neighbors when Sekomi began tobuild his hut before their door. But, however it was, they went, and,patient little creatures that they are, built another just like it amile or so away; and Sekomi said: "The hill is a fine place to plantmy early corn."
There is but little hoeing to do this morning, and, while the workgoes on, Shobo, the baby, rolls in the grass, sucking a piece ofsugar-cane, as I have seen children suck a stick of candy. Haven'tyou?
The mother has baskets to make. On the floor of the hut is a heap offine, twisting tree-roots which she brought from the forest yesterday,and under the shadow of her grassy roof she sits before the doorweaving them into strong, neat baskets, like the one in which the mencarried their dinner when they went to hunt. While she works otherwomen come too with their work, sit beside her in the shade, andchatter away in a very queer-sounding language. We couldn't understandit at all; but we should hear them always call Manenko's motherMa-Zungo, meaning Zungo's mother, instead of saying Maunka, which youremember I told you is her name. Zungo is her oldest boy, youknow, and ever since he was born she has been called nothing butMa-Zungo,--just as if, when a lady comes into your school, the teachershould say: "This is Joe's mother," or "This is Teddy's mamma," sothat the children should all know her.
So the mother works on the baskets and talks with the women; butManenko has heard the call of the honey-bird, the brisk little chirpof "Chiken, chiken, chik, churr, churr," and she is away to the woodto follow his call, and bring home the honey.
She runs beneath the tall trees, looking up for the small brown bird;then she stops and listens to hear him again, when close beside hercomes the call, "Chiken, chiken, chik, churr, churr," and there sitsthe brow
n bird above a hole in the tree, where the bees are flying inand out, their legs yellow with honey-dust. It is too high for Manenkoto reach, but she marks the place and says to herself: "I will tellRa when he comes home." Who is Ra? Why, that is her name for "father."She turns to go home, but stops to listen to the wild shouts and songsof the women who have left the huts and are coming down towards theriver to welcome their chief with lulliloo, praising him by suchstrange names as "Great lion," "Great buffalo."
The chief comes from a long journey with the young men up the riverin canoes, to hunt the elephant, and bring home the ivory tusks,from which we have many beautiful things made. The canoes are full oftusks, and, while the men unload them, the women are shouting: "Sleep,my lord, my great chief." Manenko listens while she stands under thetrees,--listens for only a minute, and then runs to join her motherand add her little voice to the general noise.
The chief is very proud and happy to bring home such a load; beforesunset it will all be carried up to the huts, the men will dress intheir very best, and walk in a gay procession. Indeed, they can'tdress much; no coats or hats or nicely polished boots have they to puton, but some will have the white ends of oxen's tails in their hair,some a plume of black ostrich feathers, and the chief himself has avery grand cap made from the yellow mane of an old lion. The drum willbeat, the women will shout, while the men gather round a fire, androast and eat great slices of ox-meat, and tell the story of theirfamous elephant-hunt. How they came to the bushes with fine, silveryleaves and sweet bark, which the elephant eats, and there hiding,watched and waited many hours, until the ground shook, with the heavytread of a great mother-elephant and her two calves, coming up fromthe river, where they had been to drink. Their trunks were fullof water, and they tossed them up, spouting the water like a fineshower-bath over their hot heads and backs, and now, cooled andrefreshed, began to eat the silvery leaves of the bushes. Then thehunters threw their spears thick and fast; after two hours, the greatcreature lay still upon the ground,--she was dead.
So day after day they had hunted, loading the canoes with ivory, andsailing far up the river; far up where the tall rushes wave, twistedtogether by the twining morning-glory vines; far up where thealligators make great nests in the river-bank, and lay their eggs,and stretch themselves in the sunshine, half asleep inside their scalyarmor; far up where the hippopotamus is standing in his drowsy dreamon the bottom of the river, with the water covering him, head and all.He is a great, sleepy fellow, not unlike a very large, dark-brown pig,with a thick skin and no hair. Here he lives under the water all day,only once in a while poking up his nose for a breath of fresh air. Andhere is the mother-hippopotamus, with her baby standing upon her neck,that he may be nearer the top of the water. Think how funny he mustlook.
All day long they stand here under the water, half asleep, sometimesgiving a loud grunt or snore, and sometimes, I am sorry to say,tipping over a canoe which happens to float over their heads. But atnight, when men are asleep, the great beasts come up out of the riverand eat the short, sweet grass upon the shore, and look about to seethe world a little. Oh, what mighty beasts! Men are so small and weakbeside them. And yet, because the mind of man is so much above theirs,he can rule them; for God made man to be king of the whole earth, andgreater than all.
All these wonderful things the men have seen, and Manenko listens totheir stories until the moon is high and the stars have almost fadedin her light. Then her father and Zungo come home, bringing theantelope and buffalo meat, too tired to tell their story until thenext day. So, after eating supper, they are all soon asleep upon themats which form their beds. It is a hard kind of bed, but a good one,if you don't have too many mice for bedfellows. A little bright-eyedmouse is a pretty creature, but one doesn't care to sleep with him.
These are simple, happy people; they live out of doors most of thetime, and they love the sunshine, the rain, and the wind. They haveplenty to eat,--the pounded corn, milk and honey, and scarlet beans,and the hunters bring meat, and soon it will be time for the wildwater-birds to come flocking down the river,--white pelicans and brownducks, and hundreds of smaller birds that chase the skimming fliesover the water.
If Manenko could read, she would be sorry that she has no books;and if she knew what dolls are, she might be longing every day for abeautiful wax doll, with curling hair, and eyes to open and shut. Butthese are things of which she knows nothing at all, and she is happyenough in watching the hornets building their hanging nests on thebranches of the trees, cutting the small sticks of sugar-cane, orfollowing the honey-bird's call.
If the children who have books would oftener leave them, and studythe wonders of the things about them,--of the birds, the plants, thecurious creatures that live and work on the land and in the air andwater,--it would be better for them. Try it, dear children; open youreyes and look into the ways and forms of life in the midst of whichGod has placed you, and get acquainted with them, till you feel thatthey, too, are your brothers and sisters, and God your Father andtheirs.
