THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 Ex Libra 
 
 SIR MICHAEL SADLER 
 
 ACQUIRED 1948 
 
 WITH THE HELP OF ALUMNI OF THE 
 SCHOOL OF EDUCATION
 
 A GROUP AT LIKOMA.
 
 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE 
 IN NYASALAND 
 
 BY THE REV. G. H. WILSON, M.A. 
 
 Deus lo volt ! 
 
 THE UNIVERSITIES' MISSION TO CENTRAL AFRICA 
 9 DARTMOUTH STREET, WESTMINSTER, S.W.I
 
 Preface 
 
 THERE are some happy beings, no doubt 
 of finer clay, who go through life with 
 a serene confidence. They always seem to 
 know the right course, as though by divine 
 inspiration, and are never at a loss. With me 
 things have been very different. Whenever 
 I have had to make an important decision in 
 my life, it has been made at the cost of a 
 bitter inward struggle. More than ever in my 
 life was this the case when I felt the first 
 promptings to offer myself for missionary work. 
 Was it my duty or was it not ? I could not 
 tell. Moreover, probably through my own 
 dulness, I was quite unable to picture to myself 
 what sort of life a missionary priest's might be. 
 I felt that I ought to have some idea, for it 
 seemed an important factor in solving the pro- 
 blem. Then I was lucky enough, though I ought 
 not to call it luck, to come across Miss Gertrude 
 Ward's inimitable letters. It was that book, 
 I think, which led me to offer myself to The 
 Universities' Mission to Central Africa. I am not 
 so foolish as to think that I have Miss Ward's 
 pen, but I would fain do something of the same 
 
 5 
 
 662744
 
 6 PREFACE 
 
 sort for my own diocese. For this reason, after 
 fifteen years of experience, I have made some 
 attempt to draw a picture of our very happy 
 life in the diocese of Nyasaland. It has been 
 written at odd times, mostly at night. It must 
 needs, therefore, be scrappy and uneven, and 
 can have no literary merit. Such as it is, I 
 offer it in the hope that it may help some one, 
 who is in the same fix as I was, and who wants 
 to know something of the actual life out here, 
 before he sums up on the great question. 
 
 I should like to add that, though I have 
 written entirely about my own Mission and 
 Diocese, it is not because I selfishly disregard 
 the interests of other Missions. I am trying to 
 present a picture of a small part of the Mission 
 field, well aware how small it is, because I 
 happen to know about it. I do most earnestly 
 sympathize with every effort to spread abroad 
 the knowledge of the love of God in Christ 
 in every land and in every race. 
 
 I have written from my own personal experi- 
 ence, with but little advice from others. Some, 
 doubtless, will not agree with all that I have 
 said. I alone am responsible for what is written. 
 I alone must bear the blame for all that is 
 amiss. 
 
 G. H. WILSON. 
 
 MPONDA'S. 
 June 8, 1920.
 
 Contents 
 
 I THE COUNTRY . 
 
 II THE PEOPLE 
 
 III THE VILLAGE . 
 
 IV THE DIOCESE . 
 V THE STATION 
 
 VI MEDICAL WORK . 
 
 VII TRAVELLING 
 
 VIII NATIVE CHRISTIANS 
 IX THE MISSIONARY
 
 List of Illustrations 
 
 A GROUP AT LIKOMA .... Frontispiece 
 A LAKESIDE VILLAGE .... Facing page 34 
 THE s.s. "CHAUNCY MAPLES" AT OLD 
 
 LANGENBERG ,,44 
 
 A MOTHER AND BABY .... 60 
 
 MAP OF EAST CENTRAL AFRICA . . page 94 
 
 MAP OF LAKE NYASA .... ,,95
 
 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN 
 NYASALAND 
 
 The Country 
 
 THE diocese of Nyasaland nominally covers 
 a very large area, but our work for the 
 most part lies on, or not very far from, the 
 great Lake Nyasa. The size of the lake generally 
 comes as a surprise to English folk, accustomed 
 to think in terms of our own Lakeland or, at 
 most, of the Swiss Lakes. It is about 360 miles 
 long rather longer, in fact, than from Berwick- 
 on-Tweed to Southampton stretching roughly 
 from the latitude 93o' to I43o' S. It is about 
 sixty miles wide at the broadest part, but 
 generally a good deal less. It forms a long 
 strip of water running almost due north and 
 south, except that about fifty miles from the 
 southern end a broad arm stretches out towards 
 the south-west to a distance of about forty-five 
 miles from the main waters of the lake. The 
 water is, of course, fresh, and in places it is very 
 
 9
 
 io A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 deep. It will be easily understood that such a 
 large sheet of water is apt to become very rough 
 at times (at least/ for such small craft as ply 
 on the lake up to the present). The strong 
 wind is the south wind, called Mwela by the 
 natives. This often blows with great violence 
 in the cooler months, from May to the end of 
 July, and sometimes for several days together. 
 The other wind most dreaded by the natives 
 is the north-wester, which often springs up with 
 great suddenness in the early part of the rainy 
 season. It comes with tremendous fury, but 
 generally only lasts for a short time. Even in 
 a short time it lashes the fresh water into angry 
 waves, enough to be very dangerous for canoes. 
 At other times the lake is more often calm than 
 not, lying a lovely blue under the tropical sun. 
 At night it is almost always calm, except when 
 the Mwela is blowing. One can generally see 
 the flares of the fishermen, often far out at sea, 
 and one can often hear the peculiar signal for 
 drawing the net, made by tapping the canoe 
 with a paddle, carried a tremendous distance 
 through the still night. 
 
 The Lake country seems to me to be extra- 
 ordinarily beautiful. With the exception of a 
 part of the western side, there are generally 
 hills close to the shore. These are wooded, 
 sometimes right down to the water's edge. It 
 is impossible to describe the beauty of these
 
 THE COUNTRY n 
 
 woods, and they are so different from what I 
 had expected a tropical forest to be. I thought 
 to find enormous trees above, through which 
 the sunlight could scarcely find its way, and be- 
 low an impenetrable jungle. As a matter of fact, 
 the trees are small but they are extraordinarily 
 graceful in shape, while the undergrowth, though 
 tiresome enough to walk through, is not very 
 dense. Indeed, after the bush-fires, when the 
 new grass is sprouting, one sees green glades 
 of bright-looking turf such as one might find 
 in an English park. Of course, there are bigger 
 trees. There is the baobab, a sort of a hippo- 
 potamus of a tree, of enormous bulk and quaint 
 shape. Also in the river valleys magnificent 
 timber trees are to be found, and very beautiful 
 these valleys are. But it is the forest-clad hills 
 that seem to me the most lovely. Crags of 
 grey granite stand out, just as the limestone 
 rocks do in my own Derbyshire hills. They 
 stand always the same, or almost always, for 
 in the rainy season one often sees glittering 
 patches, where water trickles over them. But 
 the forests themselves are always changing. 
 I can never make up my mind at which season 
 I love them best. In July and August the 
 trees stand bare of leaves, of a delicate silver 
 grey, except a sort of plane tree, whose white 
 trunk stands out here and there in startling 
 contrast. In the spring the forest shows every
 
 12 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 colour from the palest green, through orange and 
 red, to purple. Even trees of the same species 
 growing side by side put forth their new leaves 
 of widely different colours. Then there are the 
 dark, rich greens of summer, as beautiful again 
 in another fashion. Lastly, autumn brings its 
 amazing wonder of colour. Truly Africa is a 
 fair place. 
 
 I am no naturalist, so I had better not attempt 
 to describe the creatures that haunt these 
 woods, yet even to an unscientific person they 
 are intensely interesting. There are antelopes 
 of all sizes, from the huge eland to the tiny 
 klipspringer. There are elephants, though 
 indeed I have never seen one. Often enough I 
 have seen their tracks and the fearful devasta- 
 tion wrought where they have passed. There 
 are birds of all colours, and some which sing 
 quite passably, though they cannot equal the 
 English nightingale or blackbird. There are 
 dangerous beasts, too, both lions and leopards. 
 Snakes also abound, a few dangerous, but mostly 
 quite harmless. It must not be thought that 
 these beasts are a great danger to Europeans. 
 I have never heard, since I came into the 
 country, of a European being hurt by a lion 
 or a leopard, except when hunting them. With 
 natives it is very different. They live in frail huts, 
 they have no lamps to carry about at night, 
 they often sleep out when on a journey, they
 
 THE COUNTRY 13 
 
 have to watch their fields by night. There is 
 a sad tale of natives killed by wikj beasts every 
 year. I have never heard in my time of*a single 
 person, native or European, dying of a snake 
 bite. There are baboons and monkeys, platoons 
 of them, wild dogs and pigs. There are butter- 
 flies and other insects ah me ! how many ! 
 bats and lizards, an innumerable multitude of 
 creatures. At night what sounds one hears 
 when one camps in the forest ! One may hear 
 the fateful note of the horned owl bird of 
 ill omen in native folklore the appalling howl 
 of the hyena, the curious treble pipe of the 
 wild dog, the deep bass roar of the lion and 
 countless other sounds, recognized and un- 
 recognized, which tell of the teeming life of the 
 forest. A naturalist would surely find this 
 country an earthly paradise. 
 
 The climate of Nyasaland has been badly 
 maligned, as it seems to me. To the feelings 
 it is almost perfect. It is never desperately 
 hot. The heat is seldom above 96 or 97 
 in the shade, though I have known it a good 
 deal hotter. The cold is seldom below 52. 
 Oddly enough, this feels very cold, and a new- 
 comer will be surprised to find how real is the 
 need of thick clothes at times in this tropical 
 country. I speak, however, of the lake-level. 
 There have been frosts at Mtonya, and I have 
 myself seen 111 in the shade at Port Herald,
 
 14 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 I admit a strong dislike for the rainy season, 
 but then I haj^ a good deal of travelling about 
 to do. ^Even then we have some sun most 
 days, sometimes for many days, to the grievous 
 destruction of crops. The rains are roughly 
 from November to the end of April in the Lake 
 district. Here at Mponda's thirty inches is 
 not a bad fall. At Kota Kota they expect 
 seventy inches. My last year at Likoma we 
 had forty-five inches, which was a record fall 
 up to that time. But the rain doesn't last 
 very long, nor, as we have seen, does it rain all 
 the time. It is merely a time when one expects 
 rain, much as one expects rain almost at any 
 time in England. Certainly, as far as feelings 
 go, I would not wish for a better climate. 
 Of course, there is malaria, but modern medical 
 science has done wonders in prevention and 
 also in curing us again when we do get fever. 
 There are also other tropical diseases, such as 
 dysentery. But my own opinion is though I 
 daresay it isn't worth much that the real 
 danger lies in the fact that somehow the country 
 does take a good deal out of one. Maybe the 
 food is not very nourishing, or perhaps we need 
 " a brave north-easter " now and then. Any- 
 way, most people get thin in Nyasaland and also 
 most people get rather nervy, even though they 
 escape all tropical diseases. That seems to me 
 to be the reason why we should be rather more
 
 THE COUNTRY 15 
 
 careful than we have been to refuse folks who 
 are not reasonably strong. It is not fair on 
 them or on the Mission to let them come out, 
 and indeed break-downs have been too frequent 
 in the past. But I don't believe that any 
 normally healthy person has much to fear for 
 his health's sake, if only he will not run foolish 
 risks and will take reasonable precautions.
 
 II 
 The People 
 
 THE district round Lake Nyasa is very 
 thickly populated for Africa. Almost 
 every little bay on the lake has its village, or 
 even several villages. There is a succession of 
 villages on the banks of the streams that flow 
 into the lake, right up into the hills. Even 
 streams which appear to run dry in the dry 
 season often have their villages, and the village 
 folk get water by digging deep pits in the 
 apparently dry bed of the stream. 
 
 This population is made up of a large number 
 of tribes. I could not possibly enumerate 
 them myself, and if I could it would be un- 
 necessary for our present purpose. It is perhaps 
 better to consider those peoples with whom the 
 Mission comes in contact according to their 
 languages, for language in this country is not 
 always a clue to the tribe. For instance, the 
 Angoni (Zulu) have almost entirely dropped 
 their own tongue and now talk a sort of Chi- 
 Nyanja. The Mission works among four 
 
 16
 
 THE PEOPLE 17 
 
 languages which, of course, are all dialects of 
 the Bantu family. Far the largest part of 
 our work lies among those speaking different 
 forms of Chi-Nyanja, whom we may perhaps 
 call Nyasas (Wa Nyanja), if we remember that 
 it is a linguistic not a tribal name. To the 
 south-east live Yaos, speaking Yao. I am 
 inclined to think those who speak Yao are 
 much more of one tribe than those who speak 
 Chi-Nyanja, though I know small Yao-speaking 
 villages whose folk call themselves Yaos, but 
 who are not really of that tribe. Up north, in 
 conquered German territory, we have two more 
 dialects. I don't know what are their proper 
 names. For convenience they are called by us 
 Wa Manda and Wa Mpoto. Amongst one folk 
 we have a large number of stations, amongst 
 the others only four or five. Though I can give 
 very little information about these Northerners, 
 it is worth remembering that they are extra- 
 ordinarily ready to receive Christianity, and 
 their importance must not be judged by the 
 scanty information that I can give. For the 
 rest the ground is covered by Nyasas and 
 Yaos. 
 
 There are certain things that are worth 
 remembering about these two divisions. Speak- 
 ing of them as we meet them, the Yaos are cer- 
 tainly the more advanced politically. They are 
 organized in large divisions under great chiefs,
 
 i8 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 , though if the man who occupies the traditional 
 position of the great chief happens for the 
 moment to be a feeble person, the organization 
 becomes very loose. Nyasas, on the contrary, 
 are organized in separate villages. For instance, 
 they would not be greatly moved if a neighbour- 
 ing village were raided, except for feelings of 
 natural pity or for fear that their own turn 
 might come next. Hence, when Yaos and 
 Nyasas have clashed, the Yaos have been 
 generally victorious, for obviously the large 
 tribe has an overwhelming advantage over the 
 single village. Certainly this shows the political 
 superiority of the Yaos, though I doubt if it 
 necessarily proves the personal superiority often 
 claimed by Yao admirers. Also, once in my 
 knowledge, Nyasas, fighting Yaos on equal 
 terms, were completely victorious. On the 
 other hand, I think that Nyasa morals are 
 unquestionably higher than those of the Yaos, 
 but this may be owing to the effect of a low 
 type of Islam. Of this I shall hope to speak 
 later. Here one may note that Nyasas are mostly 
 heathen and Yaos are in the main Moslems 
 that is, of course, where they have not yet 
 accepted Christianity. 
 
 Having mentioned these differences, I shall 
 now speak of the general characteristics which 
 are met with in both peoples, for to a great 
 extent they are- the same. Now I hear people
 
 THE PEOPLE 19 
 
 say sometimes that they can distinguish at 
 once between a Nyasa and a Yao by their 
 appearance. I should very much like to test 
 this claim. I admit readily that there is a 
 difference, but I could not myself undertake to 
 distinguish at sight between a Nyasa and a 
 Yao, except in rare cases where the difference 
 was very marked. It is often amusing, too, to 
 hear Europeans, both missionaries and others, 
 claiming that the tribe amongst whom their 
 lot is cast is far the superior. I have lived and 
 worked among both and, if I live another 
 year, I shall have spent an equal length of 
 time amongst each people. I still cannot tell 
 the difference between them at sight, and I am 
 still at a loss to know which of the two I like 
 best. 
 
 These people are not black, but a sort of 
 chocolate colour. One good priest of our 
 Mission used to tell his cook to roast coffee 
 beans till they became not black but the colour 
 of his own arm a very sound maxim for 
 roasting coffee, and the reader will see at once 
 the colour of the cook. I think myself there is 
 a great deal to be said for the colour. In 
 children it is really beautiful. In adults, too, 
 it will bear comparison with our own pale 
 faces, for a European complexion does not 
 look its best in Central Africa. I never realized 
 this till my first trip home. I remember
 
 20 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 standing amazed at the beauty of the com- 
 plexion of the Southampton dock-hands not 
 generally, I suppose, regarded as a high type 
 of English complexion ! The natives almost 
 always have soft, brown eyes. Our greys and 
 greens seem inexpressibly fierce to them. I 
 admit that the nose and lips are hard to defend, 
 but in spite of this I have certainly seen beautiful 
 faces amongst them, and some even noble. 
 To me the African face is generally very attrac- 
 tive. They have beautifully white teeth and a 
 charming grin, and have also an open air of 
 frankness which is very engaging, an air which 
 is conspicuously lacking among the Eastern 
 peoples. If this frank air makes the simple 
 new-comer think that the African is but a 
 shallow person, easy to be understood, he will 
 find himself grievously mistaken. The African 
 is simply a born actor, indeed I think he is 
 acting most of the time, sometimes I fear with 
 real intention to deceive, more often in naive 
 unconsciousness. In figure the African is often 
 magnificent. He is not very tall, shorter a 
 good deal on an average than the Englishman, 
 but he is commonly beautifully built. The 
 women, especially the young ones, carry them- 
 selves splendidly, sometimes with a load on 
 their heads and a baby on their backs. Some 
 people tell me that they find the African 
 repulsive. I cannot understand that myself.
 
 THE PEOPLE 21 
 
 I think it must be some unconscious prejudice 
 at the back of their mind. For my own 
 part, from the very first I felt a great at- 
 traction towards the Africans of Nyasaland. 
 
 When one comes to consider the character 
 of these folk I think that again one must admit 
 that they are a very lovable people. Of course, 
 I don't mean that their character is perfect, 
 far from it, but when one fairly considers their 
 opportunities I think they will bear favourable 
 comparison with other races. I do not pretend 
 to give an analysis of African character, that 
 would indeed be a rash thing to do, but one 
 cannot live many years amongst people of 
 another race without acquiring certain definite 
 ideas about them. I give these for what they 
 are worth. At least they may be found interest- 
 ing, and I should like to think that some of 
 my readers may some day have an opportunity 
 of correcting my impressions by their own 
 experience. 
 
 There seem to me to be two special failings 
 in the African character which constantly show 
 themselves. I will mention these first and be 
 done with them. In the first place the African 
 seems to lack something, some stiffness of 
 character, some backbone I do not know what 
 to call it. This is often very exasperating to 
 an Englishman, for it makes some of the best 
 Africans fail one just when one least expects
 
 22 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 it. It is not that they lose their heads at a 
 crisis. Some do, of course, but I have myself 
 seen a native show splendid presence of mind 
 in moments of difficulty and also of danger. 
 It is not that they lack staying power. Can any 
 one who has travelled in Central Africa ever 
 forget his carriers, weary, patient and enduring ? 
 The pathos of it ! Perhaps an example will 
 best show what I mean. My teacher is a good 
 fellow and has a real zeal for his work I speak 
 generically but if he happens to feel unwell 
 in the morning he simply drops everything. 
 He has certain quite important duties to do, 
 but he just lets them go. He does not live fifty 
 yards away, yet he would not think of sending 
 me a message. I should probably find out 
 before school-time, but if I did not there would 
 be no bell and no school. Nor could he be 
 brought to see that he was in the least blame- 
 worthy. This, of course, is not a very serious 
 case, but I fear it would be just the same where 
 really important issues were involved. Then 
 think of the contrast. The European, in the 
 first instance, would generally fight against 
 his illness as long as he could. When obliged 
 to give in he would try his best to arrange so 
 as not to leave all his work in confusion. I 
 suppose our religion and civilization have ground 
 into us the importance of duty, while the African 
 does not as yet feel a very strong sense of duty.
 
 THE PEOPLE 23 
 
 No doubt he will improve, but at present, even 
 in some of the best, men whom I regard as 
 real friends, I fancy I see traces of this lack, 
 whatever it be. 
 
 The second failing comes as a shock to one. 
 At first one is greatly struck by the honest 
 expression of the African face. As a matter 
 of fact dishonesty, in word and deed, is a notable 
 characteristic of the Central African folk.* I 
 say this very sadly, but with deep conviction. 
 In village life I do not believe that there is 
 any disgrace attached to dishonesty, unless 
 it be found out. I am not speaking so much 
 of the relations between Africans and Europeans, 
 though there it is distressing enough. But 
 still one can admit some excuse. We seem 
 inordinately rich and also selfish, and more- 
 over the climate tries the temper. I do not 
 think it seems very wrong to a native to help 
 himself to our superfluous wealth, which seems 
 to him selfishly hoarded. Nor dp I think it 
 unnatural that they should use deceit to avoid 
 or appease our fierce wrath. What really 
 hurts me is the plundering of some poor old 
 widow's field, the sneaking of hardly earned 
 coppers from a companion in the dormitory, 
 the robbing of some poor traveller. In a 
 native court lying is carried to a fine art. It 
 
 * This statement would not be endorsed by every one 
 in the U.M.C.A. PusrtsHERS.
 
 24 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 is a disgrace to give away your own side by 
 speaking the truth. It is as bad as for an 
 English public school boy to sneak. However, 
 one hopes that Christianity will alter this. 
 Indeed it is doing so, but slowly, I am sorry to 
 say. I fear it cannot be disputed that this is a 
 marked trait of Africans in general, though 
 one is thankful to have known many who 
 are exceptions, the more honour to them. 
 
 We have told the worst, and even these 
 bad traits could be paralleled among many 
 so-called higher races. No doubt, too, there 
 are many other faults, such as are found in 
 other peoples, immorality, drunkenness and 
 such like. Where are they not found ? But 
 when one has said all this, I am still convinced 
 that the natives of Central Africa are a most 
 lovable people. Let us now consider their 
 good points. 
 
 The first thing that strikes one is their 
 cheerfulness. They don't seem to have too 
 much to make them cheerful, but they make 
 the best of things. They live almost entirely 
 in the present, so that when all is well they are 
 full of careless happiness. Perhaps because 
 they are so thoughtless they are soon cast down. 
 In sickness, as we saw before, they collapse. 
 A death in the village casts a shadow over the 
 whole place. Travellers who hurry through 
 Africa speak as if a native's life was a supremely
 
 THE PEOPLE 25 
 
 happy one. I do not think it is at all, but 
 they make the best of it, and it is a very good 
 trait in their character. Your passing traveller 
 does not see much of the seamy side of native 
 life. How should he ? 
 
 Perhaps connected with their happy disposi- 
 tion is their extraordinary good temper. It 
 is true that, when once roused, the African 
 temper rises almost to a frenzy. Indeed that 
 may be partly why he has had to learn to keep 
 it under control, unless greatly exasperated, 
 for village custom demands heavy damages 
 for blows, heavier still if blood flow. Even 
 if this be so to some extent, I am sure that they 
 are also naturally good-tempered. I have often 
 watched boys playing 1 football, and in dead 
 earnestness too, but I have very seldom seen 
 any one lose his temper. In this large and some- 
 what unruly village how seldom there is a 
 serious fight ! Even then it is nearly always 
 caused by drink. There is incomparably less 
 quarrelling here than in some of our slums at 
 home. 
 
 Africans, too, are extraordinarily ready to 
 forgive, as soon as their momentary indigna- 
 tion has passed off. It is astonishing how they 
 forgive us Europeans our blunders and mistakes. 
 I do not often whip a boy, but for one or two 
 serious offences a whipping is the recognized 
 punishment. It is the last thing, short of
 
 26 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 expulsion. I once whipped a boy for a flagrant 
 offence. Soon after his complete innocence 
 was suddenly established by a strange chain of 
 coincidences. I at once apologized and gave 
 him a present to show my regret. Indeed I 
 made all possible amends, for I was horribly 
 ashamed of myself. Now I don't believe the 
 boy ever bore me a moment's ill will. He 
 knew that I was acting justly, as far as I could 
 see, and he seemed to think it rather splendid 
 of me to own up and make amends. He forgave 
 me readily enough. It was not nearly so easy 
 for me to forgive myself. 
 
 Unselfishness is another splendid trait in 
 the African character. If you give some sugar 
 or salt to a boy, he shares round to the last 
 grain. ' The man who eats alone " is a pro- 
 verbial term of contempt. In native eyes we 
 seem fearfully selfish. If you have some cigar- 
 ettes and smoke one, keeping the rest by you, 
 when you know that all around would like one, 
 it seems almost brutal. You might at least 
 pass round the lighted one for all to have a 
 suck ! The African is really unselfish and 
 feels the keenest shame if he has been betrayed 
 into an act of selfishness. A woman once came 
 to me in the greatest distress, for she felt that 
 she had committed an appalling sin. She had 
 refused a traveller water, who came to her 
 house to beg a drink as he passed by. I may
 
 THE PEOPLE 27 
 
 say that she has to fetch every drop of water 
 from quite a distance in a great earthen pitcher, 
 which she carries on her head. There was no 
 doubt at all that the poor woman was really 
 overwhelmed with the sense of shame. It is 
 true that she was not a raw native. She was a 
 Christian and one of the best. Now I wonder 
 how many European Christians would have 
 felt the sting of conscience for driving a 
 tramp from the door, even though they 
 had but to turn a tap to satisfy his 
 wants. 
 
 I think far the most striking point in the 
 African character is their family affection. It 
 is simply wonderful and naively taken for 
 granted. They stand by one another through 
 thick and thin, at home and abroad. When 
 separated they love to write and receive letters. 
 They will go long journeys to see a distant 
 kinsman, especially if he be ill. This affection 
 is not limited to one small family circle, but 
 it extends to kinsfolk so distant that we find 
 it hard to express the relationship. Death 
 makes an appalling breach in the circle. The 
 wailing after a death is a dreadful sound and, 
 for the time at least, the sorrow is genuine. I 
 admit that so thoughtless a 'people soon forget, 
 but that is only what one would expect. They 
 love their children just as much as we do, 
 possibly more. This intense love often shows
 
 28 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 itself in an unfortunate way, for they seldom 
 correct small children and they are apt to get 
 spoilt. Often enough I have pressed a woman 
 to insist on an urchin of seven or eight coming 
 to school. She replies in despair, " But he 
 refuses," as if that settled the question. They 
 love them too much to punish their children, 
 but, though they are unwise, it is real love. 
 A friend of mine was once speaking to a native 
 who had just returned from the Somali campaign. 
 He had been serving in the King's African 
 Rifles. My friend expected him to enlarge on 
 such things as big guns and maxims and those 
 sort of horrors, which must have been a terrible 
 experience to a village lad. But the horror 
 that seemed most to dwell in his mind was 
 that he had seen Somali women fleeing from the 
 enemy, who threw their babies away into the 
 bush in their terror. That seemed to him the 
 accursed thing. He added, as a very natural 
 corollary, " But we beat them and made them 
 take them up again." All through the village 
 relationships, it is the family which counts ; 
 the individual is only important as one of 
 the family. If a lad is earning wages, it is to a 
 large extent for the family, and he is expected 
 to share round, and he admits the claim. One 
 must remember, however, that the family is 
 not constituted like ours. The father is outside. 
 He has no rights in the children. They belong
 
 THE PEOPLE 29 
 
 to the mother's family. Native custom makes 
 the most careful provision for the protection of 
 the mother and children in the interests of 
 their family. Inheritance goes not to a man's 
 own son, but to his sister's son ; that is, it 
 remains in the family and does not pass to the 
 mother's family, according to native ideas. 
 But though the family be differently consti- 
 tuted, the family tie is real enough and it is 
 enormously stronger than the ordinary family 
 tie in Europe. Christianity is rapidly changing 
 the organization of the family. It is possible 
 that it may for a time weaken its force, 
 where the Christianity is not very sincere, 
 but I have not noticed a sign of this. It 
 merely seems to bring the father into the 
 circle, who was before outside. 
 
 There is one fact which, as an Englishman, 
 I take great pride in telling. During the whole 
 Central African campaign in the late war, 
 whatever happened, none of the ist King's 
 African Rifles (our Nyasaland battalions) ever 
 ran away. In ordinary life natives are ready 
 enough to run away, especially when they 
 see no particular reason for standing their 
 ground, but I always felt that there was real 
 courage behind. When trained by British 
 officers, as all military men tell me, they made ' 
 magnificent soldiers. This is not only true 
 of the old ist/ist, a splendidly disciplined
 
 30 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 regiment, but it is equally true of the newer 
 second battalion and also of the latest raised 
 third. All honour to them and to their officers 
 who led them !
 
 Ill 
 
 The Village 
 
 THE centre of African life is the village. 
 A European has to get away from his 
 conception of a village as a place where so many 
 folks happen to dwell, because of work or 
 inclination or what not, and from this mere 
 fact of dwelling together, become an organized 
 community. In Africa the village is the home 
 of a clan, together with its slaves. We 
 commonly speak of slaves, but I think it would 
 be more proper to call them " serfs." If the clan 
 is large, parts of it may live in different actual 
 localities, but in native eyes it is one village. 
 It is quite common round Mponda's for a 
 village to be divided into two or three parts. 
 Part of Malunga's village live by the lake 
 and part in the hills, twenty miles away, but 
 both parts together make up Bolela the 
 village name. Hence to live, as folk live at 
 home, amongst strangers, perhaps not even 
 known by name, is simply inexplicable to a 
 native it is more, it is horrible and unnatural. 
 
 31
 
 32 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 The village is like a large family, of which the 
 chief is father and he rules in patriarchal 
 fashion over it. The slaves are the property 
 of the family. They have generally come into 
 the family either as prisoners of war or as 
 payment for some crime. This cannot happen 
 now under British rule, so there are only the 
 descendants of slaves. I don't think slaves 
 are ever sold now. A few years ago a big 
 Yao chief in the Portuguese hills sent a present 
 of a slave wife to a chief in these parts. That 
 is the nearest approach to slave-dealing that 
 I have met myself, and that was so unusual that 
 it caused a tremendous sensation. I speak 
 with caution, for it is difficult to be certain, 
 but I don't think these slaves are badly used, 
 on the whole. Of course, they are still slaves 
 and have no part in the village politics. It 
 may seem strange to English ears to hear that 
 there are still slaves under the British flag. It 
 is quite true that any slave may go before the 
 magistrate and claim his freedom. If he knows 
 his own ancestral clan, certainly he can go 
 there and live as a free man. Even then, if 
 it were too near, it might be dangerous. If 
 he does not know his own folks, he is at a stand- 
 still. He cannot go and live in another village. 
 He would merely become the slave of new 
 masters in another clan. An African without 
 a village is one of the most desolate creatures
 
 THE VILLAGE 33 
 
 on earth. If he has no folk of his own, his only 
 niche in society, such as it is, is his position 
 of slave in the village of his masters, and he 
 had far better stay there. Things, however, are 
 changing. I suppose he might now make 
 his way to South Africa and begin life afresh 
 in one of those native conglomerations near 
 some large town. 
 
 The village 1 is generally a picturesque object. 
 From the lake one sees a bright stretch of 
 sand in some bay or other convenient spot, 
 behind which there lies a collection of huts. 
 A few of larger size will stand out, the huts of 
 the leading men of the community. One of 
 these will be the chief's. Generally a shady 
 tree has been left near the chief's house, or he 
 has built his house purposely near to one. 
 There he holds his court. Also the village 
 dances and other public functions are held there. 
 It is the "agora" or "forum" of the African 
 village. On the sand just clear of the water 
 there will be two or three dug-out canoes. 
 Above again it is likely that a large fishing- 
 net is spread out. This is the common property 
 of the village, and men are generally to be seen 
 mending such rents as have been made during 
 the last night's fishing. Still higher up, almost 
 
 1 I have described a lake-side village. An inland vil- 
 lage is much the same if you take away the canoes and 
 fishing nets.
 
 34 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 among the huts, there is generally a shelter, 
 just a thatched roof standing on poles. Under 
 the shadow of this shelter one sees a few old 
 men, twisting fibre into string (by rubbing 
 it on their thighs) for mending the net, or for 
 making a new one. Behind the huts lies the 
 village field and behind that again the forest. 
 Sometimes the forest is close behind the village, 
 and then you must seek the village field farther 
 away. All around the great common field, 
 at the edge of the forest, are little thatched 
 shelters. They are generally placed on higher 
 ground, perhaps on an old ant-hill, so as to 
 command a view. Often they are raised on 
 poles, as much as 10 or 12 feet. Night and day 
 the fields must be watched, from the sowing, 
 in November or December, until the maize 
 is safely stored at the end of May. Baboons 
 and monkeys are ever on the watch to sneak 
 in by day. Wild pigs may swarm in by night. 
 Then as the grain forms and ripens, birds must 
 be scared away. One day or one night may 
 be long enough to destroy most of the crop, 
 if the villagers neglect to watch. The principal 
 crop is the maize. There is also millet, some- 
 times running nearly up to 20 feet. This is 
 eaten in porridge and is often used to make gruel 
 for the sick, but its main purpose is for brewing 
 beer. If there be a marshy spot, there will also 
 be rice. Between the maize stalks, beans and
 
 THE VILLAGE 35 
 
 pumpkins of many sorts are grown. Monkey- 
 nuts have a patch all to themselves. 
 
 The houses are built of poles, sunk into the 
 ground and about 18 inches apart. Between 
 them the space is filled in with reeds, or some- 
 times millet stalks or even strong grass. The 
 whole is generally plastered over with ant-mud, 
 within and without. The floor, too, and the 
 space under the eaves is also mudded. The 
 roof is thatched with grass, and the eaves hang 
 over, making a sort of .verandah. Some houses 
 are round and some oblong, but the chief's 
 is generally oblong in these parts. Behind 
 is a courtyard, shut in with a grass fence, 
 for the sake of privacy. Here the woman 
 generally does her pounding, and often the 
 cooking, too. There is little furniture within. 
 There are sleeping mats, often a bedstead just 
 a wooden frame tightly strung with palm-leaf 
 ropes and exceedingly comfortable. There are 
 also pitchers and an earthen cooking-pot and 
 various baskets. There is a hoe and an axe, 
 with a very narrow blade. In the lakeside 
 villages, or in a village near a large stream, 
 there will be small nets and a fish trap. This 
 last is a really clever piece of work, made of 
 split bamboo. In the courtyard is the inevitable 
 mortar, for pounding maize, fashioned out of 
 the bole of a tree, together with two or three 
 heavy pestles.
 
 36 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 The most important question in village life 
 is the food supply. Work is begun in the fields 
 in September or even earlier. The ground 
 has to be cleared of weeds first. The Yao 
 villages in the hills change their fields every 
 few years. If it is very far, the whole village 
 moves too. They then ruthlessly cut down 
 acres of beautiful trees. They use what they 
 want for building purposes and firewood, and 
 pile the rest in heaps and burn it. This is a 
 tremendous undertaking with their tiny axes, 
 and they often begin operations before the 
 harvest in the previous year. As soon as the 
 rains are thought to have begun in earnest 
 the seed is sown, it may be in November, but 
 more generally in December. When the rains 
 are very late they may not be able to sow until 
 January. When the corn is getting ripe, the 
 old store-houses are repaired and new ones 
 built. They look rather like little huts on 
 short legs. The roof is movable and can be 
 lifted off to get out the contents, and there is a 
 rough ladder attached. Then comes the harvest. 
 Up till now, both men and women share in 
 the work. Now it is the women who carry 
 the maize home in large baskets and pour it into 
 the store. Thenceforth it is in the woman's 
 charge. No man may venture to go to the 
 store to help himself. Custom absolutely forbids 
 it. An offended lady may refuse supplies
 
 THE VILLAGE 37 
 
 to her lord for days, and, if he has only one lady, v 
 he is in a sorry plight. It is the woman who 
 takes the grain out of the store, puts it to soak 
 and ferment for several days, then dries it on 
 a mat in the sun and afterwards pounds it 
 in the mortar, and finally prepares the porridge. 
 On Likoma this porridge is generally made of 
 cassava, treated in much the same way. With 
 this porridge a relish is eaten, beans or fish 
 or, on very rare occasion, meat. In the lake- 
 side villages it is the men's business to provide 
 fish. Whenever the weather is fit, some of the 
 men spend part of the night fishing. Sometimes 
 small private nets are used, but more often the 
 big common net of the village. In that case 
 the chief, or one of the head-men, divides the 
 catch. When the food is cooked, the men eat 
 first by themselves, afterwards the women. 
 A boy new to table work is amazed at our 
 custom of helping the ladies first. He is 
 equally amazed that we leave food uneaten 
 on the table. One meal a day in the evening 
 is the usual custom in the village. That should 
 be porridge. It is not a meal if there is not 
 porridge. At the same time, when they may 
 be come at, other things are often eaten between 
 times, such as maize or monkey-nuts, roasted 
 casually over a fire of grass or what not. Folks 
 often go about gnawing sugar cane, or the sweet 
 stalk of the millet. Just before the harvest,
 
 38 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 everybody is munching green corn, and grievous 
 pains in the middle prostrate youngsters on all 
 hands. 
 
 But the regular supply of food is often 
 interrupted by some mischance befalling the 
 fields. As has been seen above, the beasts of 
 the forest may cause great havoc. Besides 
 baboons, monkeys and pigs, there are the bigger 
 game. Herds of buck may do much mischief. 
 Elephants are especially dreaded. Not only 
 will they invade the gardens, but they will 
 come into the village and overset the stores, as 
 happened close to us here about a month ago. 
 The villagers told me that they lit flares of 
 grass and beat tin cans, but the elephants 
 took not the least notice. But the weather is 
 the worst danger. A spell of dry weather in 
 the rainy season, when the crops are young, is 
 disastrous. Or too heavy rain may wash 
 whole gardens away. Every year brings the 
 villagers face to face with this anxiety. It 
 must be remembered that there is no means 
 of importing food, and it is impossible to save 
 surplus stock for long in their primitive stores. 
 Even though there may be plenty of food 
 in a neighbouring district, transport is so 
 difficult that it is hard to keep up the supply 
 in the area of scarcity. Practically the only 
 means of transport is by carrier. Last year one 
 saw on the roads an unending stream of weary
 
 THE VILLAGE 39 
 
 men and women, carrying loads of food from 
 the district round Lake Malombe to the hungry 
 villages in this neighbourhood. 
 
 The politics of the village are simple. The 
 chief is the centre of authority, and behind him 
 are the head-men. The chief is not the son of 
 his predecessor, but his sister's son. There are 
 generally more than one in the right relation- 
 ship and then the village chooses. They seem 
 to follow the old Anglo-Saxon custom of 
 choosing the ablest man of the royal race- 
 though the royal race is reckoned on a different 
 principle. Of legislation there is little. There 
 are temporary orders, but they, in a small way, 
 rather resemble our orders-in-council. A recog- 
 nized body of custom takes the place of the 
 law. This is very complicated and covers 
 every possible contingency in life. It is abso- 
 lutely binding. I never yet heard of a man 
 venturing to defy custom. Hence the chief's 
 duty, as a judge, is to decide questions in his 
 court according to custom. Each side tries to 
 prove that he has. custom on his side. If he 
 succeeds, that settles the question. A native 
 court is really a very wonderful thing. Each 
 side has its spokesman, who takes the place of 
 our barrister, and wonderful orators they are. 
 Witnesses are not separated, but give evidence 
 as they are called. First one spokesman 
 explains his case and then the other, but that
 
 40 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 is not the end. They go on in turn, sometimes 
 for hours, until at last they agree that they 
 have had " enough words." Then the chief 
 takes one of the orators in hand and questions 
 him very rapidly, taking him through his case 
 with a running fire of questions, which only 
 need an answer of yes or no. Sometimes it is 
 not the chief himself who questions. He may 
 depute one of his head-men who are sitting 
 with him. They are extraordinarily clever in 
 questioning and, if there be anything shady in 
 the case, it generally comes out, upon which 
 the opposition laugh with intention in high glee. 
 Then comes the opposition's turn, and the other 
 side marks the discrepancies with derisive 
 laughter. Finally the chief, or the head-man 
 deputed by him, sums up and gives judgment. 
 I cannot say how far custom is apt to change 
 in normal times. During the war the whole 
 system of village life was brought into sharp 
 contact with European civilization and no 
 doubt the shock was tremendous. Wherever 
 a European goes he seems to carry some subtle 
 power of change. Whether it be the govern- 
 ment official, the missionary, the planter or the 
 trader each is working for change, whether he 
 knows it or not. It is too early to assess the 
 effect of the war, but at least it must mean an 
 enormous amount of change. I feel that the 
 whole present condition of native life is likely
 
 THE VILLAGE 41 
 
 to be radically affected in the next few years. 
 This is a matter of great anxiety to all who love 
 Africans, for I cannot feel at all certain that 
 this change must necessarily be for the better.
 
 IV 
 
 The Diocese 
 
 THE history of the diocese can be read in 
 the general history of the Mission. One 
 may, perhaps, just mention the principal facts, 
 for convenience. Our first missionaries, though 
 they aimed at settling on the lake, never got 
 there and finally failed to establish themselves 
 in the Shire Highlands or at Morambala. It is 
 a tragic story of a splendid struggle against 
 tropical disease at a time when medical science 
 could not give very much help. Bishop Tozer 
 had to withdraw to Zanzibar, at that time 
 the centre towards which all East African 
 interests tended. His eyes were still turned 
 towards the lake, but meanwhile it was hoped 
 that the missionaries might get more experience 
 to fight the climate, and also might learn some- 
 thing of the languages of the interior amongst 
 the crowds of strangers and slaves in Zanzibar. 
 Bishop Steere once more planned an advance 
 to the lake. Archdeacon Johnson and Mr. 
 
 42
 
 THE DIOCESE 43 
 
 Janson were his messengers. I wish Arch- 
 deacon Johnson could be persuaded to write 
 the history of those days. They arrived in 
 1882 at the lake and since then the work has 
 gradually grown. In 1895 Nyasaland and 
 Zanzibar became separate dioceses, each having 
 its own bishop. 
 
 The head-quarters of the diocese are at 
 Likoma Island about half-way up the lake. 
 Here is the Cathedral Church, and the Bishop 
 has his permanent home there, though much 
 of his time is necessarily spent in travelling 
 about his diocese. The doctor also has his 
 head-quarters at Likoma and the central store 
 of the medical department. The diocesan 
 library and the printing press are naturally at 
 head-quarters. At the north end of the island, 
 at Makalawe, St. Michael's Training College 
 for teachers is now permanently established. 
 St. Andrew's Theological College is at the 
 opposite end, at Nkwazi, but during the 
 war the college had to be closed. Likoma 
 Island is a station apart. One has every 
 reason to hope that in a few years it will be 
 altogether a Christian island. Though the 
 head-quarters of the Mission are at Likoma, 
 the treasurer and the general store are at 
 Mponda's, as being more nearly in touch 
 with the outside world. The engineering shop 
 is at Malindi, which thus becomes the head-
 
 44 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 quarters of the steamers. There is to be an 
 engineer permanently in charge of this shop for 
 the future. 
 
 The principle on which the diocese is organ- 
 ized is to have a number of head-stations, from 
 each of which a large district is worked. Before 
 the war the s.s. Chauncy Maples, and before 
 her the s.s. Charles Janson, were practically 
 movable head-stations, from which a large 
 district was worked along the lake shore and, 
 in some cases, stretching far inland. When the 
 war broke out, the steamers were commandeered, 
 and after that the Chauncy Maples was under 
 repairs. The steamer district is to be divided, 
 for it had grown to unmanageable proportions. 
 In the districts worked from the head-station 
 or steamer are a number of sub-stations. Each 
 of these is provided with a resident teacher. 
 He conducts the school, teaches the hearers 
 and catechumens, takes services on Sunday 
 and short prayers on week-days, and generally 
 presides over the Christian community, often a 
 very small one. It is his business also to keep 
 in touch with the villagers, to encourage the 
 children to come to school and to influence the 
 elders, as far as possible, to listen to the 
 Christian message. 
 
 It will be seen at once that these native 
 teachers play a very important part in our 
 work. They are selected from the most promis-
 
 THE DIOCESE 45 
 
 ing boys in the different schools. They must 
 pass an entrance examination before entering 
 college, which is an intellectual test, and they 
 must have the recommendation of their priest- 
 in-charge, which means that he has assured 
 himself that the boy is one who may be reason- 
 ably expected to show the right moral qualities 
 of a teacher. They then enter St. Michael's 
 College, where they have a course of three 
 years, with a break of a year at the end of the 
 second year in residence. During the year's 
 break they are put under some experienced 
 teacher, so as to learn the practical part of the 
 work, before going back for their last year at 
 college. Every effort is made to imbue these 
 students with a right spirit, for their work is 
 to a large extent ministerial work. The chapel 
 is the centre of the college, and their work as 
 messengers of the gospel is kept continually 
 in view. When the teacher leaves college with 
 his final certificate he is set to work, at first 
 generally under an older teacher. When he is 
 married he can be put in charge of an out- 
 station. It is unfortunately quite impossible 
 to put an unmarried boy or even a widower to 
 live alone in charge of an out-station. There 
 would always be danger, but apart from that, 
 native custom makes it all but impossible. It 
 has been seen above that the food is the 
 woman's business. It is most improper for
 
 46 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 a woman to cook food for a man who is not 
 her husband or a near kinsman. An un- 
 married teacher can only be put with another 
 teacher, whose wife can cook for both, and if 
 they eat together there is no scandal. It is 
 from the teacher class that we look for our 
 future ministry. We have already seven na- 
 tive priests and two deacons, besides a number 
 of senior teachers, commissioned as readers or 
 evangelists. 
 
 The diocese, with all its organizations, is for 
 one purpose, the evangelization of the native 
 Africans, so it may be well here to say some- 
 thing of the religion of the people to whom we 
 preach. The work of the diocese is divided 
 sharply into two very different kinds. In some 
 parts we are preaching to heathen, in others 
 to Mohammedans. As I have said before, the 
 Nyasas are mostly heathen and the Yaos mostly 
 Moslems. This is only a rough division, for 
 there is a good deal of Islam amongst the 
 Nyasas at Kota Kota and in the Monkey Bay 
 district and farther south. There are also 
 exceptions among the Yaos, but they are much 
 more insignificant. 
 
 I have found it very difficult to learn any- 
 thing very definite about the beliefs of the 
 heathen. I am inclined to think that they are 
 rather vague themselves, though a heathen 
 native would be apt to be reserved about his
 
 THE DIOCESE 47 
 
 religion when speaking to a mission "padre." 
 Certainly they believe in a supreme God, perhaps 
 in one God, but it is difficult to be quite sure 
 of the latter statement, for they certainly believe 
 in evil spirits in a way which reminds one of the 
 daemons or lesser gods of Greek mythology. 
 Still one is on solid ground when one starts 
 from their belief in a supreme God. Their 
 relations with God seem to consist mostly of 
 deprecation. To escape misfortune, bodily and 
 spiritual, is their chief concern. They believe 
 that spirits live on after death in the form of 
 ghosts, and they are horribly afraid of them. 
 I doubt if the native worries himself much 
 about the future. As in material things, he 
 lives in the present. Death is so very appalling 
 to him that he puts all thoughts of it as far 
 away as may be. It is of ill omen to use the 
 word. Used carelessly it may involve a curse. 
 Children are often called by names in which 
 the word death is found, such as " Little 
 death," " He dies to-morrow," or "He dies 
 for nothing." I think that this is done under 
 the idea of avoiding evil by affecting to expect 
 it. No one who has ever heard the wailing 
 after a death in the village can doubt that it 
 brings dismay and horror to the survivors as 
 well as grief. One may say, it seems to me, 
 that the religion of the heathen consists of a 
 vague belief in a supreme God and a multi-
 
 48 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 tude of evil spirits, and an anxious desire to 
 escape ill by means of charms and propitiatory 
 invocations. Beyond this one must add a 
 vague idea of survival in a spirit world beyond 
 the grave. 
 
 With Islam all is different. Their beliefs are 
 definite enough theoretically. I am apt to 
 doubt how far these professed beliefs have 
 really sunk into the native mind. It is the 
 custom to rail at Islam and the reasons are 
 obvious, but I must confess that to me it seems 
 for men a distinct step up from heathenism. 
 Even in its debased form, as we see it here, it 
 does produce some characters who command 
 our respect. And it is a very debased form 
 which we meet in Nyasaland. Mostly folks are 
 very ignorant about Moslem doctrines. I have 
 more than once asked a village Moslem teacher 
 to read his prayer-board for me, and he has 
 done so, tracing his finger from left to right. 
 I can't read Arabic myself, but I know it runs 
 the other way. Rammadan is observed and 
 folks even fast to some extent. All join in the 
 excitement, when Rammadan is over. Prayers 
 are said in the mosques, especially on Fridays 
 and in Rammadan. There is a mosque in most 
 of the villages in these parts, generally a tiny 
 reed-and-pole hut. The Koran rules about 
 intoxicants seem to be quite ignored. The 
 women take a distinct share in the worship at
 
 THE DIOCESE 49 
 
 the mosque, which is good, but rather surprising, 
 when one considers the position which they 
 hold. Somehow Islam has got into the position 
 of a native religion, while Christianity is dis- 
 tinctly regarded as European and foreign. I 
 don't know whether it is by chance that Mos- 
 lems have got into this position or by craft, 
 but it is a disaster of the greatest moment to 
 missionaries. For when I admitted that Islam 
 is a step up, I mean that it is an isolated step, 
 not a step on a ladder. It blocks the way to 
 anything higher. Also, though it produces some 
 fine characters, it has had a sadly bad effect 
 on general morals. With the heathen a mar- 
 riage is a breakable contract, but divorce is a 
 very serious business. The parties must appear 
 before the village court. Damages are assessed. 
 Finally a reed is split down the middle before 
 the assembly, and then the union is dissolved. 
 A Moslem may tell his wife to go at any moment, 
 and that is the end of the union. The result 
 is that the marriage tie is appallingly slight. 
 Folks change their partners continually, and 
 just such a degradation of morals follows as 
 one would expect. For the women especially 
 this state of things is disastrous. Their stan- 
 dard of morals is very much lower than that 
 of the heathen women and, what is worse, they 
 seem quite content with it and to have no 
 higher aspirations. One would have expected
 
 50 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 that the women would have resented bitterly 
 being treated as chattels and dismissed at plea- 
 sure, but they do not seem to do so. Islam, 
 such as it is, has a great attraction for Africans. 
 Partly, as we have seen above, it comes to 
 them as an African religion for Africans, which 
 alone gives it a tremendous power. Then un- 
 doubtedly it does give a heathen more intelli- 
 gent and definite relations with God. It teaches 
 that the one great God does really rule and does 
 care for his people, at least for Mohammedans. 
 It is attractive, too, to human frailty in that it 
 makes no great demands and is able to effect 
 a compromise with existing customs in a way 
 which Christianity cannot do. It allows a low 
 moral tone and gives religious sanction to it. 
 This means a great deal to a race which has 
 never learnt to practise self-control or even to 
 regard it as a virtue to be desired. Here, too, 
 where the connexion with Zanzibar and the 
 coast is still remembered, it gives a man an 
 appreciable social lift. This does, perhaps, help 
 a little towards self-respect, but it also ministers 
 to a very sour kind of spiritual pride. It will 
 easily be seen that Islam is a very serious 
 enemy to Christianity. I have tried to speak 
 fairly of it and to recognize such merits as it 
 has, but as a Christian missionary I regret 
 the spread of Islam very much. It is at most 
 but a step up from heathenism, and as a stum-
 
 THE DIOCESE 51 
 
 bling-block to any further advance, especially 
 towards Christianity, its influence is simply 
 deplorable. 
 
 In the religion of the non-Christian natives, 
 both Moslem and heathen, there are two points 
 which any one, who has tried to understand 
 them, must have noticed. 
 
 The first point is that they seem to lack a 
 sense of sin. Perhaps this does not quite 
 express what I mean, for natives are extra- 
 ordinarily ready to confess a fault, if one can 
 only keep one's own quick European temper 
 under control and deal kindly and patiently 
 with them. What I mean is that they have no 
 sense of guilt for past sin. They do not seem 
 to feel that anything is seriously wrong with 
 themselves. There is none of that haunting 
 conviction that something is vitally wrong with 
 men, which was such a striking feature in the 
 Graeco-Roman world in the first days of the 
 Church, a conviction that makes a man welcome 
 the idea of redemption. An appeal to such a 
 feeling leaves a native quite cold. That much 
 is wrong with external things he is quick to 
 recognize, but he does not realize at all how 
 much is wrong with himself. Any one will see 
 at a glance that this makes the missionary's 
 work very hard. It is not on this point that one 
 can find any leverage to lift the native from his 
 present position,
 
 52 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 The second point is this. Whatever Islam 
 may teach, the old superstitions linger on, as 
 they do in the Church to some extent, and I 
 am persuaded that the chief factor in native 
 religion, whether Moslem or heathen, is fear. 
 All their lives they stand in deadly fear of 
 charms and witchcraft. To them these things 
 are terribly real. I learnt only the other day 
 that a Moslem here has been driven from his 
 village, because his boy was taken by a crocodile 
 and he is supposed to have had some occult 
 part in it. I had another striking instance of 
 the reality of their belief in witchcraft. Soon 
 after I left Likoma five canoes started to cross 
 over to the western side of the lake. They 
 were overtaken by a storm and two canoes were 
 lost and twenty-two people drowned. I wrote 
 a word of sympathy to the old chief, for he was 
 rather a friend of mine. He wrote back, or 
 rather he got some one else to write for him, for 
 of course he cannot write himself, telling me all 
 about the disaster and the names of his people 
 who were drowned. Then he said, " And we 
 know who did it. We went to the magistrate 
 at Chinteche to bring a case against them. But 
 he said, ' It is the hand of God, there is no case.' 
 But (nampo kaya) that is as it may be." Now 
 that old man is as sure that his enemies caused 
 that storm by witchcraft as we are that two 
 and two make four. There is another form of
 
 THE DIOCESE 53 
 
 witchcraft which causes unspeakable terror. 
 There is supposed to be a secret society, and I 
 believe there is, who dig up dead bodies and 
 are said to perform the most ghastly rites. 
 These people are credited with fearful powers. 
 Again, as we have seen above, there is always 
 anxiety about food. A failure of the rains 
 means famine. Now it is held that there are 
 evil-disposed persons who can prevent the rain 
 by secret practices. Moreover wild beasts are 
 a really serious danger, but superstition adds 
 further horrors. No non-Christian native 
 doubts that it is possible for a man to as- 
 sume the form of a wild beast, just as the old 
 Anglo-Saxons believed in werwolves. Now I 
 am not particularly fond of having a man- 
 eating lion about the place myself, but just 
 think what it would be if I thought that this 
 lion was after me, endowed with all the cun- 
 ning and malice of some special enemy. It 
 is amusing to see natives jump, startled at 
 some sudden noise, but at the same time to me 
 it is unspeakably pathetic, for it seems to tell 
 of the age-long reign of terror under which 
 they and their ancestors have lived. It is 
 this terror that seems to me to be at the 
 bottom of all their charms and incantations, 
 and to be the main factor in whatever religion 
 they have.
 
 The Station 
 
 THE head-station is the home of us European 
 workers. It is astonishing how one gets 
 attached to one's station. We are all quite 
 sure that our own is the best and dislike moving 
 to anotho* vjery much. Though, when we do 
 move, we soon find that after all our new station 
 is the best. The regular staff for each station, 
 according to the Bishop's scheme, consists of 
 the priest-in-charge, a layman, a nurse and a 
 lady teacher. Where the work is larger this 
 minimum staff must be augmented. In others, 
 alas, at present it falls short. Any one who 
 knows anything of our work will see at once 
 that the Bishop is right when he says that this 
 ought to be the minimum staff on every head- 
 station. 
 
 We live almost a family life. Each one of us 
 has our own separate house. It is built of brick 
 or stone and consists of two rooms. There is a 
 common dining-room, where we take all our 
 meals together. This seems an admirable plan. 
 
 54
 
 THE STATION 55 
 
 It is not only a great saving of expense, but 
 insures cheerful, social meals, which prevents 
 one from getting too much wrapped up in the 
 cares of one's work. Unfortunately it has one 
 drawback, for it means a great deal of work for 
 the housekeeper, generally the nurse, who has 
 already more than enough to do. To run the 
 housekeeping successfully and economically is 
 no easy task. It is just one of those side-shows 
 in missionary life which are but little noticed, 
 and yet we owe a tremendous debt to those who 
 unceasingly attend to our wants. It is of great 
 importance to health in this exacting country 
 to have our simple meals well cooked and nicely 
 served. The cook and table-boys can turn out 
 quite a successful meal, but they need con- 
 stantly looking after. When this is done native 
 table-boys are very deft and attentive, if not 
 flurried. 
 
 At most of our stations the dining-room is in 
 some central position. The ladies' houses are 
 on one side, and somewhere within reach are 
 the girls' dormitory, the girls' school and the 
 women's hospital. The church is generally a 
 little to itself, for it is obvious that one does 
 not want a general congregation dispersing 
 through the European part of the station or 
 through the women's quarters. On the other 
 side are the men's houses, the boys' dormitory 
 and school, the teacher's house and the men's
 
 56 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 hospital. A spare house for native travellers 
 is also a necessity, for Christians passing through 
 naturally come to the Mission to sleep. The 
 surgery is, if possible, somewhere between the 
 two hospitals. I hope to say something about 
 the medical work later. The dormitories are a 
 feature of station life which needs explanation. 
 All the pupils of our schools feed at home, with 
 few exceptions. At present I have only three 
 feeding on this station. One is a boy from a 
 distance, who is learning the surgery work and 
 two are cripples, cast off by their own kinsfolk. 
 But all Christians and catechumen boys sleep 
 on the station. In the village no unmarried 
 boy sleeps at home with his parents. As early 
 as at the age of six or seven they have to turn out. 
 They sleep in common houses, unmarried men of 
 all ages, and, as may be supposed, these bachelor 
 houses are often not very desirable places. 
 We follow the native custom, but insist that our 
 Christian and catechumen boys should sleep in 
 a common house or dormitory on the station, 
 away at least from the worst temptations of 
 village life. One can do a good deal in the 
 way of securing decency and we have regular 
 prayers for the boys, which no doubt are a great 
 help. It is not quite the same with the girls, 
 though they, too, have sometimes common 
 houses. They generally, however, sleep in a 
 sort of out-house annexed to their parents' hut.
 
 THE STATION 57 
 
 Here, and I think at most big stations, it is 
 found best that the Christian and catechumen 
 girls should sleep in a dormitory on the station, 
 under the care of one of the ladies. We have 
 boys' dormitories in the same way at our out- 
 stations, but I have never ventured on a girls' 
 dormitory. Teachers change and go for holi- 
 days, so at times there would be no supervision, 
 and in any case the responsibility is more than 
 I dare undertake. 
 
 The schools form a very important part of our 
 work. In all times missionaries have done well 
 to get hold of the children. It is a great thing 
 if the teacher has the gift of making school 
 bright and interesting, for, unless a child's 
 parents are Christians, one can exert very little 
 pressure to induce children to come. It is a 
 source of wonder to me that they come as well 
 as they do. We teach the three R's and just a 
 smattering of English. The top classes are rather 
 more advanced, for it must be remembered that 
 it is from these we hope to recruit our teaching 
 staff. Of course, above all we teach the Bible 
 stories and simple Christian doctrine. There is 
 generally a special course of lessons for Christian 
 children. We charge no fees at all in our 
 schools. I am sometimes inclined to wonder 
 whether natives might not value our teaching 
 more if they paid a trifle for it. It would 
 probably lessen our numbers, but this might be
 
 58 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 compensated by increased earnestness of those 
 who persevered. On the whole, I should prefer 
 to go on with our present system in this Moham- 
 medan district. The Scotch and Dutch Re- 
 formed Missions charge school fees, and I am 
 told that it works well. I only know by actual 
 experience the work of the United Free Church 
 of Scotland, and the education side of their work 
 is wonderful. One of the staff told me that 
 the school fees in the Bandawe district amounted 
 to 70 in a single year, an amazing tribute to 
 the intelligence of the natives of the district 
 (Atonga) and still more to the good work 
 of the missionaries. That was years ago, 
 and doubtless the work has increased since 
 then. 
 
 In these schools we have a constant supply of 
 young people coming on towards baptism. 
 Since the war our schools have been under a 
 cloud in this Moslem district, where opposition 
 is much stronger of late, but even here, though 
 our numbers are small, we have recruits still 
 coming on. For the elders we rely on village 
 preaching, the influence of our medical work, 
 and such personal influence as it is possible to 
 bring to bear on them. When first people are 
 attracted to our teaching they are written 
 down as " hearers." They are under no 
 promise, for as yet they are in no position to 
 make one, for they do not know enough. They
 
 THE STATION 59 
 
 simply come to learn about Christianity. They 
 have classes twice a week, to which the school 
 children come, as well as adults, and also such 
 patients as happen to be in hospital and are 
 fit to come. They continue to hear for a period 
 of from one to two years. By that time, if they 
 have paid attention at classes, they know a 
 little about Christianity. If they feel dis- 
 inclined to accept Christianity, they can give 
 it up without disgrace. If they really seek to 
 become Christians, they are then definitely 
 enrolled as catechumens. There is a short 
 service in church; they make simple promises. 
 When I can get them, I generally give a small 
 brass cross to be worn round the neck. It is a 
 reminder to themselves and it is also a protec- 
 tion, for every one in the village knows that 
 there are things which those who have professed 
 Christianity cannot do. As catechumens they 
 can now come to a part of the service in church, 
 but they sit behind a rail by themselves, not 
 with the Christians. Like the hearers, they have 
 their classes twice a week, but now it is a course 
 of definite preparation for baptism. They are 
 expected to come fairly regularly for two more 
 years. It is regularity in attending the classes 
 which is a great point when the time comes for 
 choosing catechumens for baptism. This is not 
 quite the mechanical test which it seems to be 
 at first sight. To be regular and punctual .is
 
 60 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 not an easy thing for a native. If one has come 
 regularly for two years, it is no bad sign that he 
 is really in earnest. 
 
 One of the chief causes of anxiety, before I 
 came to Africa, was the fear that I should be 
 horribly puzzled as to how to present Chris- 
 tianity to the heathen. As one realizes that 
 these poor folk live in the bondage of fear, fear 
 of things physical, of witchcraft, of death that 
 they have no hope for the future and only look 
 to grow up, and pass away in their old age into the 
 unknown darkness, through the awful doors of 
 mysterious death one feels with a rush what 
 Christianity has to offer. There are no doubt 
 many other avenues of approach, but one can 
 never be wrong in using this one. One realizes, 
 perhaps, as never before the meaning of the 
 Light which came to lighten every man, for 
 native Africans indeed sit in darkness and the 
 shadow of death. 
 
 At last comes baptism, a day poignant with 
 hope and fear. At any rate, one may practically 
 take it for granted that for the time at least 
 the candidates are in deadly earnest. They are 
 clad in a white robe, marked with a scarlet cross. 
 They assemble with their godparents in the 
 catechumens' part of the church. They have 
 been carefully taught the meaning of the pro- 
 mises and they make them solemnly enough. 
 Then follows the rite, the men first and then
 
 A MOTHER AND BABY.
 
 THE STATION 61 
 
 the women. The priest then moves to the 
 catechumens' barrier and admits them one by 
 one into the congregation of Christ's flock, and 
 they pass on to take their place with their 
 Christian brethren. I wish I could describe 
 what it means to the missionary priest. He has 
 worked and prayed for these new Christians for 
 so long. The day has come when he sees his 
 work crowned. But behind his thankfulness 
 there is the knowledge of all that lies before 
 them, amongst the awful temptations of an 
 African village. They are admitted Christ's 
 soldiers and servants, and it is a grim fight 
 indeed before them. 
 
 Lastly I come to the church. We follow 
 native custom as far as possible. There are no 
 seats. The people sit on large mats. Also 
 the men sit on one side and the women on the 
 other, just as they would do naturally in the 
 village. The native tongues lend themselves 
 admirably to music, for all vowels are long and 
 all syllables are open, none end with a consonant. 
 Central Africans are very much at home in 
 church. The mothers bring their babies. If 
 these infants are taken with a peculiarly noisy 
 fit of screaming, they are taken outside to be 
 comforted. Punctuality is not a strong point, 
 and people go in and out in a very casual manner. 
 Of course, this is not very desirable but at least 
 there is no question, they feel at home in their
 
 62 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 Father's house. Also they are all bare-footed 
 and move very deftly, so there is no distressing 
 clatter. There is a sung Eucharist every Sunday 
 and Holy Day at 7 o'clock. Thairis the prin- 
 cipal service of the day and there is a sermon. 
 Immediately after this comes the catechumens' 
 class. My native deacon takes this, while we 
 hungry Europeans must needs have breakfast. 
 At about half-past nine Mattins follow. My 
 fellow padre, or the deacon, or my great stand- 
 by, my lay brother a licensed Lay-Reader 
 takes this service. I am engaged taking the 
 hearers' class under a big tree. The regular 
 hearers attend and odd people from the village 
 come and listen. We have an English evensong 
 and address at 4.15, followed immediately by 
 native evensong. We have a daily Eucharist 
 in English, except on Thursdays when it is in 
 the native tongue, and a daily Mattins and 
 evensong also for the natives. Besides these 
 services we have daily sext and compline in 
 English. On Fridays we have a sung native 
 Litany, just at the close of school a very popular 
 service. These arrangements have to be broken 
 into from time to time, especially where there 
 is but one priest. He is bound to be away 
 frequently to minister to the out-stations. But 
 in spite of this drawback I think we may be 
 thankful for our church privileges. My fellow 
 missionaries will, I'm sure, agree with me that
 
 THE STATION 63 
 
 it is in the church and before the altar that we 
 find the centre of our work and that it is there 
 we get strength and inspiration to carry us 
 through.
 
 VI 
 Medical Work 
 
 THE medical work is a very important part 
 of our organization. Our Master's own 
 example in the first place consecrates all such 
 work. It is also the one concrete example 
 of what we mean by Christian charity, which 
 cannot be misunderstood. I think that both 
 these points should be kept in view. It is a 
 very pitiful thing to see sick or maimed people 
 in this country. The natives have little or 
 no idea of nursing, though I'm sure they do their 
 best, and every sort of discomfort is added 
 to that of illness. One sees poor emaciated 
 creatures lying on a mat on the hard floor, 
 with no blanket or pillow, though often a 
 kinsman will support the aching head upon his 
 knee. The only invalid diet which they know 
 is a washy sort of gruel that looks most unin- 
 viting. It is not only in serious illness that 
 they are to be pitied. They know nothing 
 of the body and a touch of fever, or even a bad 
 cold, which can make one feel horribly ill, 
 makes them think that they are in great danger 
 
 64
 
 MEDICAL WORK 65 
 
 and is apt to prostrate them utterly. For 
 the same reason they will often neglect a serious 
 illness which does not happen for the moment 
 to cause them acute discomfort. Moreover, 
 here at Mponda's, there are cases of crocodile 
 wounds with terrible frequency. I cannot think 
 how people ever get away when once gripped 
 by those horrible jaws. But they do, and then 
 the terrible wounds almost always become 
 septic, even when no bones are broken. How 
 should a poor soul treat a horrible septic wound 
 in the village ? A man must be hard-hearted 
 indeed, if he does not long to help these poor 
 things in their sickness. Then there is the 
 other point. In helping such one is surely 
 preaching the Gospel as words alone never 
 will. I may preach and teach, but at the back 
 of his mind the native thinks, I believe, that 
 after all it is my business, an odd one to be 
 sure, but doubtless there is some advantage 
 behind it. When they see the nurses spending 
 themselves to allay their pain, strangers, too, 
 who seek no reward, it must indeed be a wonder- 
 ful thing. Think, too, what it means in this 
 Moslem district. There are no Mohammedan 
 hospitals. The sick Moslem may have jeered 
 at the Mission when in health. He comes 
 humbly enough for help when sick, and it 
 must make a great impression on him as 
 indeed I know that it does.
 
 66 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 We have unfortunately but one doctor in 
 the diocese, attached to the Mission. His 
 head-quarters are at Likoma, but he goes round 
 to the other stations as often as possible. On 
 some stations we are fortunate enough to be 
 within reach of Government doctors. We, at 
 Mponda's, owe a great debt of gratitude to 
 successive Government doctors stationed at 
 Fort Johnston. They have constantly shown 
 themselves glad to help us whether Europeans 
 or natives. It was the same during the war. 
 The military doctors were extraordinarily kind 
 to us. I certainly owe my own life to the 
 kindness of a doctor in the King's African 
 Rifles. But, while we are so lucky in this way, 
 other stations are out of reach of a doctor. 
 It would seem as if we ought to have at least 
 one other, especially as the doctor is bound, 
 like other people, to take his leave from time to 
 time. 
 
 This lack of doctors leaves the nurses with very 
 heavy responsibilities. I have avoided all per- 
 sonalities as far as possible, but I cannot forbear 
 to say how fortunate the Mission has been in 
 its nurses, ever since I have known the diocese, 
 and we have every reason to be proud of them. 
 It is a matter of profound thankfulness that 
 this should be so, for the work makes great 
 demands upon them. We need not only nurses 
 of high professional skill, but we need those
 
 MEDICAL WORK 67 
 
 who are missionaries at heart, and more, those 
 who have the gift of getting on well with natives 
 and inspiring them with confidence. For one 
 so gifted there is an almost unlimited scope of 
 usefulness in Nyasaland. One is glad to think 
 that such work is going on at all our stations. 
 Everywhere the old prejudice against European 
 treatment has broken down. No one hesitates 
 to seek our help in serious cases. A patient 
 grievously torn by a crocodile is brought straight 
 to our surgery, and the most painful treatment 
 is submitted to with confidence. Only the other 
 day I saw an amusing instance of this confidence. 
 One of our local chiefs, as I happen to know, 
 is very hostile to Europeans. He is naturally 
 a Moslem, Mohammedanism being regarded 
 as the native religion as against Christianity, 
 the foreign religion. He is therefore much 
 set against the Mission and once prevented 
 me from opening a school in one of his dependent 
 villages, where the people were really keen 
 on having one. However, a violent earache 
 brought him a humble suppliant to the Mission 
 and I watched him meekly submitting to the 
 English nurse's treatment, with some amuse- 
 ment. I hear that the treatment was entirely 
 successful. I wonder if it will make any 
 difference in his attitude to the Mission. 
 
 The nurses have native dressers under them. 
 One or more is being trained on every station.
 
 68 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 I am told that these boys are very useful and 
 that one at least is really clever. Whether 
 we shall be able to train our boys to attain 
 to still higher qualifications remains to be seen. 
 As it is, this part of the work must be not a 
 little interesting. 
 
 In a short time we hope to have permanent 
 hospitals, that is of brick or stone, on every 
 station. These are generally plain buildings 
 with a fire-place and a cement floor. At 
 Mponda's we now have iron bedsteads strung 
 with palm-leaf rope. We have room for twenty- 
 two or twenty- three men. Our new women's 
 hospital was begun as soon as post-war condi- 
 tions allowed. The war came just as we were 
 about to begin it, and it has been waiting ever 
 since. I shall be very thankful to see our 
 women patients better housed. The surgery, 
 which is close by, should also be a better building 
 when funds permit. This is crowded every 
 morning and evening with patients of all 
 sorts. I suppose that the characteristic ulcer- 
 ated sore is far the commonest complaint. 
 
 There is no fixed fee, and no serious case is 
 ever sent away, but the patients are expected 
 to bring some form of offering. Sometimes 
 they bring pennies, sometimes chickens or eggs. 
 Others bring a bunch of corn-cobs or millet. 
 The Indian traders are often patients at the 
 surgery, and they always seem very grateful
 
 MEDICAL WORK 69 
 
 and gladly make a substantial offering. I 
 always feel rather sorry for these exiles. I 
 once let one of them have some milk, when he 
 was sick, and his gratitude was quite over- 
 whelming. 
 
 All this work must be having a profound 
 influence. It will not show all at once. Every 
 year is making our medical work better known 
 and more appreciated throughout the district. 
 Often, going through some strange village, I 
 am jiailed by some one whom I recognize as 
 an old hospital patient. He invariably sends 
 his salaams to the nurse. It is a case of casting 
 bread on the waters, we do not see immediate 
 results, but it must certainly bring a rich harvest 
 some day.
 
 VII 
 Travelling 
 
 A LARGE part of a missionary's life, 
 especially if he be a priest, is spent in 
 travelling. If there were no other reason, 
 he is bound to go round his out-stations at 
 least once a month to celebrate for his Chris- 
 tians. Where there are few or no Christians as 
 yet, as is the case on newly-opened out-stations, 
 the teacher and his wife have special claims 
 on us in their isolated position, and have a right 
 to expect reasonable opportunities of making 
 their communions at least. But this is not 
 the only reason. One ought to keep in touch, 
 as far as possible, with these outlying parts. 
 Africans have not the same staying powers as 
 Europeans in methodical work, and one must 
 do what one can to encourage them. I do not 
 mean that they always get slack and lazy, but 
 a teacher is apt to get discouraged at times, 
 especially among these difficult Mohammedans 
 in our own Yao district. Also there are cases 
 cropping up continually with which the teacher 
 
 70
 
 TRAVELLING 71 
 
 cannot deal and which he must refer to his 
 "padre." These are often unpleasant enough 
 to deal with, but they only get worse if one's visit 
 is delayed. I know nowhere where the policy 
 of grasping the nettle is more important than 
 in Africa. You may take it for granted that 
 all troubles which are not met and dealt with 
 at the earliest opportunity grow worse in the 
 meantime. 
 
 A journey in Africa is not like a journey in 
 England. In the first place you will generally 
 have to walk. In the next place you will 
 find no accommodation at the journey's end, 
 except a bare roof to cover you. Everything 
 you want you must take with you. African 
 food does not suit an English stomach. It 
 would make things much easier in every way 
 if it did. As it is you cannot get food on the 
 way, except such raw materials as eggs and 
 chickens or fish, if it be by the lake. You 
 may also get African sweet potatoes and pump- 
 kins in their season, and at times bananas. 
 Some people generally take a tent. I never 
 do myself. It means at least two more loads 
 and those heavy ones. I trust to hiring a 
 native house or sleeping in the Mission school. 
 At worst I have slept in the open, but I confess to 
 being a bit of a coward, and I don't like it. 
 A fire burns down so quickly and, if one is 
 asleep, one does not notice it, and I admit that,
 
 72 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 when the fire burns down, I am a little shy of 
 creatures. There still remain quite enough 
 things to carry, without a tent. One needs 
 quite a staff of men for one's journey " ulendo," 
 as it is called by black and white alike, all 
 through Nyasaland. 
 
 I generally manage with four carriers. The 
 first carries the heaviest load, a tin box. In 
 this box I carry a change of clothes and such 
 matters, and also my church things. It should 
 be fairly water-tight, or you will have a sorry 
 time in the rains. It should not be very big, 
 not too big for a one-man load. It should be 
 provided with a lock. You may want to send 
 your loads on ahead and in any case you cannot 
 always be sitting on it, and it is really important 
 to have your money safe. Even if you are one 
 of those careless people, who do not seem to 
 mind the loss, and are rich enough to replace 
 the Mission money yourself, you have no sort 
 of right to put temptation in the way of weak 
 vessels, to whom a few shillings, or even a few 
 pence, seem riches. Number two carries a 
 bed bag, with a light camp-table, an "X 
 table " I always use. You will need blankets 
 in the cool season, both above and below. The 
 damp cold comes through a canvas bed in a 
 very distressing manner, and a native hut does 
 not keep this damp cold out as a solid house 
 does. You must also take a mosquito net.
 
 TRAVELLING % 
 
 Even on these rare occasions, when there seem 
 to be no mosquitoes about, you should put it 
 up, unless you want bats flapping in your face 
 or noisome insects falling on you from the roof. 
 Once I got in late and very tired, and I did 
 not bother to put up the net. A scorpion fell 
 from the roof, and got me, too. Of course, it 
 was quite dark and I couldn't think what had 
 happened. I thought I had touched some fire. 
 I hastily struck a match, with tingling finger, 
 and caught sight of the beast running for its 
 life. It escaped, moreover, somewhere in the 
 blankets and I expected more trouble, but I 
 was too tired to search -and, as a matter of fact, 
 nothing further happened. Your bed-bag 
 should have a bar lock. That does not prevent 
 a reckless thief, for he merely slits the canvas, 
 as happened to me once at Zomba, and I lost 
 two beautiful new blankets. But it does 
 stop your boys borrowing them, if you send 
 your loads on a day ahead. I feel rather selfish 
 in cold weather, but I do not like having my 
 blankets borrowed, or even the thought of it. 
 Number three carries a camp-bed, an " X bed," 
 tied up with a chair. This sounds rather 
 luxurious, but it would not do so to any one 
 who knows the insect life of Africa. Unless 
 you want ants crawling into the corners of 
 your eyes and mouth while you are asleep, take 
 a camp-bed. There are also worse than ants,
 
 74 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 ah ! how much worse but I will draw a veil. 
 Happily, these creatures generally seem loath 
 to climb a camp-bed, unless, for your sins, 
 you are sick and have to lie there for some length 
 of time. Number four carries the commissariat. 
 Now this needs thought, for except an earthen 
 cooking-pot, you can get nothing to help you 
 in the village. A native cooking-pot, too, is, 
 to say the least of it, greasy. When I once 
 forgot to take any sort of vessel in which to boil 
 water, I made shift with a cigarette tin. I 
 made tea, in three boilings, and even boiled 
 two tiny African eggs, or rather my boy did, 
 but even he seemed to find it awkward, though 
 he plays recklessly with live coals in his bare 
 hands with impunity as a rule. You must be 
 careful then to take a kettle, a pot, a frying 
 pan and a teapot, and also crockery. Neither 
 must you forget tea, sugar, salt and such. The 
 house-keeper here is good enough to put up my 
 food basket for me when I go travelling, and it 
 is rare to find anything short. Over the top 
 of the basket go two washhand basins, one for 
 the ordinary purposes of a wash, and the other 
 for the kitchen department. For a bath there 
 are convenient streams on my own j ourneys. But 
 besides these four carriers, you must have a 
 cook. He generally acts as overseer or " kapi- 
 tao " of the whole caravan. He cannot be 
 expected to wash up and do odd jobs, so you
 
 TRAVELLING 75 
 
 must take a boy, too. My house-boy always 
 goes with me and he is just a school-boy. 
 His business also is to carry the hurricane lamp. 
 In a country where the sun always sets about 
 six o'clock a lamp is highly important, especially 
 if you have to sleep without a door, as one often 
 does in Mission schools. I always hope that 
 a little light in the doorway will scare away 
 wild beasts, but I should feel rather more 
 comfortable at times if I felt sure of this. 
 
 Another thing to consider is that all these 
 folks must have food, " posho " as it is called. 
 When there is plenty of food about, it is simple 
 enough. One just gives them a penny a day, 
 according to the length of the journey, with 
 something over. Then they do well enough. 
 In times of scarcity you must take food with 
 you, which means adding to your numbers. 
 But, at whatever cost, never run the risk of 
 being unable to feed your carriers. That is 
 the deadly sin of " ulendo " work. You can 
 go short at a pinch yourself, for you have no 
 load to carry. They cannot, or even if they can, 
 and they are wonderfully plucky, they ought 
 not to have to do so. You will need simple 
 medicines and quinine for yourself. I always 
 take a flask of brandy with me. Natives are 
 subject to fearful attacks of colic, especially 
 in the green maize season. A little brandy 
 seems to put them right. Let not the astute
 
 76 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 reader smile and think that the wily carrier 
 has only to feign a stomach-ache to get brandy 
 out of the simple missionary. It has only 
 happened four or five times in fifteen years, 
 but when it does happen, you may want it 
 badly. I was once miles away from anywhere 
 in the bush and one of my carriers went down 
 with colic. The rest had gone on and we were 
 all by ourselves. I felt in a most unpleasant 
 fix. However, a dessertspoonful of brandy 
 allayed the trouble and, after a rest, the plucky 
 fellow went on. I couldn't have carried the 
 load myself half a mile. I was thankful indeed 
 for the brandy then. 
 
 When I go to my more distant out-stations, 
 I always send my loads off the day before. 
 The walk by oneself next day through the 
 forest is wonderfully interesting. One meets 
 all sorts of people on the path, and they love to 
 pass a word or two. I am something of a 
 gossip and enjoy these chats. There are all 
 sorts of birds and beasts to be seen. One sees 
 antelopes occasionally. Once one nearly ran 
 into me. As I said before, the country is very 
 beautiful. I love wandering along alone, at 
 one's own pace, enjoying the real Africa, far 
 from everything that ever smacks of Europe. 
 I am glad to say that I have only twice seen 
 dangerous beasts, for I never bother to carry 
 a rifle, and they appeared at least as anxious to
 
 TRAVELLING 77 
 
 avoid me as I was to avoid them. In each 
 case it was a crafty-looking leopard, who stole 
 across the path, crouching low, and, seeing 
 me, bolted again into the bush. Of course, I 
 speak of daytime. I do not go wandering 
 about at night without a rifle. 
 
 When one arrives at one's destination there is 
 plenty to do. After a rest and a cup of tea, 
 a good many cups in the hot weather, there are 
 various troubles to consider, which the teacher 
 comes to report. It may be necessary to call 
 several people if it be a subject that needs 
 talking out. The sick must needs be visited, 
 if there be any. The school must be looked at 
 and perhaps examined. It may be well to 
 hold a village -preaching. The space near the 
 chief's house is generally the best place and 
 evening the best time. Nearly always enough 
 people will collect to listen, if only to look at 
 a European, to examine his boots and his 
 clothes. Anyway, there are always children. 
 It is a very moving scene in the dusk. There 
 are the children nearest, the boys not in the 
 least shy, the girls rather more timid and a 
 little further off. Then there are the ordinary 
 grown up people, and amongst them a few poor 
 old creatures. One thinks how much they need 
 the message and how it might brighten their 
 lives. One longs to know the right word 
 which might touch a chord in their hearts.
 
 78 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 Before one leaves there is the Eucharist in the 
 early morning. Often it is in a tiny building, 
 and it is but a small flock that gathers round. 
 But we plead the one, all-sum cient sacrifice, 
 just the same that is being offered in all the 
 splendid churches of Christendom. 
 
 I should add that it is very important to be 
 polite to the chief. I am on terms of friendship 
 with all the chiefs in the villages where I have 
 work. I am really fond of most of them, 
 though one or two of them are rather tiresome 
 people. I am sure that it is a duty to show them 
 respect. When young men reach such a pitch 
 of culture that they can read and write, they 
 are apt to look down on their elders. Such 
 things are known even in England. This is 
 not only very bad for our Christian youths, 
 but it. is also very bad policy. The missionary 
 then ought to show all due respect to the 
 responsible ruler of the village. It is right that 
 he should, and it will help the younger genera- 
 tion. I hope our Christians will win influence 
 in the village by strength of character and by 
 being good citizens of their small community. 
 I do not want them to be a tiresome anarchical 
 element in village life. It is well to give the 
 chief a small prize occasionally. I only give 
 two or three shillings myself. I don't want 
 him to think that it is his interest to have boys 
 at school, merely for the sake of presents.
 
 TRAVELLING 79 
 
 In that case he would just send a few slave- 
 boys. Of course, I should be glad enough to 
 get them, but I want the others, too, who will 
 some day have all the influence of free men 
 in the village. 
 
 A missionary must expect a few discomforts 
 on his travels, but now that all able-bodied 
 men have experienced war service, these should 
 seem small enough. The wet weather is cer- 
 tainly unpleasant. A native path, through 
 tall, wet grass, is rather dreary, if one has many 
 miles to plod. It is also very unpleasant if 
 one has no opportunity of drying one's things 
 and one has to put on wet boots and clothes 
 again for next day's tramp. It is tiresome, 
 too, if one goes sick, especially if one be far away. 
 But when all is said, an " ulendo " is a pleasant 
 change and is certainly nothing for an active 
 body to worry about.
 
 VIII 
 Native Christians 
 
 NOW it is a fair question to ask, What 
 sort of Christians do native Africans 
 make ? I can only answer that in many ways 
 they are very unsatisfactory. But this answer 
 does not cover the ground. One must ask 
 further, What do you expect ? Now to that 
 question I should answer without hesitation 
 that they are a great deal better than I should 
 have expected. One must consider that they 
 are the first, or in a few places the second, 
 generation of Christians. That means that the 
 whole background of their lives, their villages 
 and the customs in which they live are hea- 
 then or Mohammedan. One must remember 
 that a sense of guilt before God is a new 
 lesson and one hard to learn. They live very 
 much in the present and are little awed by the 
 prospect of future punishment. They have 
 to learn that God wants a pure heart that a 
 man may rise from his fallen state to be God's 
 own loved child and may find his highest 
 
 80
 
 NATIVE CHRISTIANS 81 
 
 happiness in the beauty of holiness which is 
 God. That God is justice as well as love is 
 another lesson difficult to learn. Of course, 
 the native Christian has been taught all this, 
 but it is only partly assimilated. Now it is 
 difficult to build up a Christian character 
 until these foundations have been laid. He is 
 in process of assimilating, but in the meanwhile 
 the Christian character is only in the process 
 of being built up. Take away the knowledge 
 of these things from us, or suppose we were only 
 beginning to assimilate them, should we be 
 likely to be startling examples of the work of 
 grace ? 
 
 Again, I wonder how many of us can form any 
 adequate conception of the temptation in which 
 they live. One would be appalled at the idea of 
 submitting a pure-minded English boy or girl 
 to such temptation. In the war one saw only 
 too sadly how fatal these temptations were to 
 many a white man, with a thousand years of 
 Christianity behind him. As I sit in my room 
 at night, I can often hear the drums at four 
 or five different beer-drinkings, going on at the 
 same time. There I know is drunkenness and 
 orgies, euphemistically called "dances," and 
 many other deeds of darkness. The noise only 
 bores you and me. To my native boy it is 
 about the only form of amusement he knows. 
 He knows what the particular rhythm implies.
 
 82 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 He knows that probably his kinsfolk are there* 
 Also the wretched rub-a-dub-dub is music 
 to him and brings to his mind a picture of a 
 bravely burning fire, of laughter and good cheer 
 and the vice, ell, he is only just getting a 
 firm hold of the fact that it is vice at all. Add 
 also the natural impulse to follow the crowd, 
 even stronger here than it is in England. 
 Nor does any one, least of all in youth, find it 
 easy to bear ridicule and the jeers at the odd 
 European teaching that would fain ban the 
 brave old customs of his fathers. Do you 
 wonder if he sometimes fall ? I don't. 
 
 Then there is the marriage question. His 
 brothers, his father, his uncles, all his clan have 
 married several wives and changed them again 
 as often as it seemed good to them. His own 
 mother has haply had three or four husbands 
 in her time and likely enough all are still alive. 
 He is in process of learning that this is wrong 
 and of learning of the love that is but one, 
 that ideal union between man and wife, which 
 is even a type of the union between the Divine 
 Son of God and his Church. He is learning, 
 good lad, but how when the sudden pinch comes, 
 the first serious quarrel of his married life ? 
 I don't know which is in fault, but both honestly 
 think it is the other. The girl runs off home. 
 He has perhaps struck her and she is trembling 
 with pain and indignation. She shrieks insults
 
 NATIVE CHRISTIANS 83 
 
 at him, that she has done with him, that he 
 had better seek another. Bitter wrath rises 
 in his heart as he hears her insults. Even 
 then there would be hope, but a crowd of jeering 
 onlookers tell him to be a man and not to stand 
 it. Others are telling the girl to show a proper 
 spirit. And, ah me, how they talk all the time, 
 for the African has the gift of tongues, as I 
 verily believe no other race has. Do you wonder 
 that they find it hard to forgive one another 
 all at once, and are apt, at any rate until the 
 exasperation has had time to wane a little, 
 to make other unions, just to show their inde- 
 pendence, unions which in the eyes of all their 
 non-Christian kinsfolk are just as good and 
 just as respectable as the marriage made in 
 church ? They know that we say it is wrong. 
 In calm moments they too know that it is 
 wrong. But it is not burnt into- them as it 
 has been burnt into us and ours for centuries. 
 Then there is the question of dishonesty. 
 In the village if a man gets into trouble because 
 he will not tell a lie, people merely think what 
 a blockhead he must be. Everybody lies, in 
 private life or in the court, and everybody takes 
 it for granted. As I said before, the African is 
 a born actor. If he wants to do so, no Miltonic 
 Belial could lie more sweetly. It is the same 
 with stealing. I once heard a casual conversation 
 in a village thirty-five miles away. The whole
 
 84 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 group were laughing over and unquestionably 
 admiring the amazing performances of a trans- 
 cendent thief. What was my horror to find that 
 the hero was a Christian, a boy of one of my 
 villages here ! He was a boy whom I had 
 baptized myself, the pity of it ! Not that I 
 was under any delusions about that young 
 man. I knew long before that he was a heart- 
 breaking failure. But I did not know that he 
 was a popular hero, just as really as Robin 
 Hood was to our own ancestors and without 
 his excuses. Do you wonder that it takes 
 time to drive home into African hearts the 
 beauty of honesty ? 
 
 But if African Christians are sadly apt to 
 fall, albeit under the most grievous temptation, 
 they are also apt to repent. When their con- 
 science honestly condemns them, when they 
 have had time to think calmly over things, 
 they do most sincerely repent. The best thing 
 is to walk in the straight path, but, if one has 
 erred, the next best thing is to turn and repent. 
 Even those who have tied themselves up in a 
 permanent state of sin, say a bigamous marriage, 
 are by no means filled with fierce hostility 
 towards God and the Church, which must needs 
 cast them out. They look back wistfully enough. 
 They grieve that they can meet no more in 
 the congregation of their Christian brethren. 
 No, they have not the strength often enough to
 
 break the bonds of their sin, but they half long 
 to do so. I had such a case only a while ago. 
 We had here an elder of the Church (or church- 
 warden) who, after long faithfulness married 
 bigamously, not without serious provocation 
 from his real Christian wife. He knew he was 
 wrong. He used to look bitterly ashamed of 
 himself when I chanced to meet him. He 
 grieved, I am sure of it, over his position. 
 Then he was stricken down by influenza and 
 soon it became clear that death was at hand. 
 As I knelt by him he gasped out what seemed 
 to be penitence, but he was almost inarticulate. 
 I shall never forget the scene. He lay in an 
 untidy hut. He was dripping wet, for in native 
 ignorance he had had cold water poured over 
 him to allay the burning fever. He was in 
 agony of body, but I am sure that he was in 
 greater agony of mind. The wistful look on 
 his face, as he tried to make me hear, wrung 
 one's heart. He was a mission failure, I suppose, 
 but I still hope and I dare not condemn. 
 
 I admit that there are many failures amongst 
 our African Christians, but there are also many 
 penitents. On the whole, however, I am 
 convinced, as I said before, that they are 
 better than one would expect. Do Europeans 
 never fail ? Moreover, there are, thank God, 
 some at least who are of the salt of the earth. 
 Also there are many, many who in spite of all
 
 86 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 temptations, in spite of being of the first 
 generation of Christians, in spite of all, live 
 pure and honest lives. They are, perhaps, not 
 of the most deeply spiritual sort, but they are 
 faithful. Indeed, I believe that in serious 
 temptation, even in cruel persecution, they 
 would still be faithful. To me African Christians 
 are wonderful. Even if they were far, far 
 worse, it would but give point to the old prayer, 
 " Come over and help us."
 
 IX 
 
 The Missionary 
 
 WHEN one is trying to decide whether 
 one is called to missionary work, I am 
 assuming in this case in Central Africa, there 
 are certain things which I feel one ought to 
 know. It is true that they are mostly obvious 
 enough. One might easily guess them at home, 
 but somehow one doesn't. 
 
 The first consideration is health. I put it 
 first, for it is the one that weighs most with 
 one's friends. I take it that if a body is not 
 reasonably strong he will regard this as a 
 perfectly clear intimation that his work does 
 not lie in an exacting climate in tropical Africa. 
 But so much is talked at home about that 
 awful scourge, malaria, that even the strongest 
 begins to think that it is little short of martyr- 
 dom to come out to Africa at all. As a matter 
 of fact, an ordinary attack of malaria is not a 
 very serious business. I speak, of course, as a 
 layman, not as a doctor, but I am sure that a 
 doctor would say the same. The fever runs 
 
 87
 
 88 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 its course and one lies in bed till it is over, 
 and then one feels all right again. Nor does it 
 leave one in the prostrate condition which 
 influenza does, unless one gets a succession of 
 fevers, but that is no more common than any 
 other serious illness at home. For my own part, 
 I have felt just as wretched with a heavy cold 
 at home as I have ever felt with a fever in 
 Africa. I admit that I am one of the lucky 
 ones. Headache is, I suppose, the worst part 
 of fever, but I have never had a headache in 
 my life. Still, folks who have headaches with 
 fever no doubt have headaches with colds at 
 home. Certainly there are other tropical 
 diseases which are bad enough dysentery, black- 
 water fever and tick-fever but these one does 
 not expect to get. Malaria, such as it is, you 
 are pretty sure to get. In spite of all precautions, 
 there are few who get through the first two 
 years without it. 
 
 This brings me to such precautions as one 
 ought to take. I am convinced that it ought 
 to be a serious matter of conscience to obey 
 the medical rules. You will sometimes meet 
 people who jeer at quinine. They say that 
 they never have fever and they don't touch 
 quinine. There are, no doubt, a few peculiarly 
 constituted in this respect, just as there are 
 other sorts of freaks. Also, no doubt, medical 
 science has still much to learn. Still, the broad
 
 THE MISSIONARY 89 
 
 fact remains that after careful research in all 
 parts of the world/ covering millions of in- 
 dividuals, scientific men have arrived at certain 
 conclusions and give us certain advice. The 
 soundness of their teaching has been proved 
 by the almost miraculous change which it has 
 brought in tropical countries. Such as it is, 
 it is the best advice we have, and for a layman 
 to jeer at it seems to be mere conceit. God 
 has given us only one life, and we have no right 
 whatever to throw it away. Nor ought one 
 to take foolish and unnecessary risks. It is 
 surprising how reckless otherwise sensible people 
 can be. I once knew a bishop, no less, who 
 shall be nameless, who got soaked to the skin, 
 clad in white drill, and he was not for taking 
 the trouble of changing his clothes. It was 
 warm and he said he didn't mind. I worried 
 him till he went and changed, but he did it a 
 thought resentfully. There are times when one 
 must take risks, just as anywhere else, and in 
 that case there is nothing more to be said. 
 I was once sent for to baptize a catechumen 
 who was suddenly taken ill. He lived more 
 than a mile away and it was pouring with 
 heavy, tropical rain. I was myself suffering 
 from dysentery, though I didn't know it. Of 
 course, I had to go. But to have taken that 
 walk for nothing would surely have been 
 criminal.
 
 90 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 When I first thought of coming out here the 
 thing I most dreaded was the appalling isolation, 
 as it seemed to me. Not only would one be 
 away from one's friends, but from the world, 
 its interests, its politics and everything that 
 goes to make up civilization. Now one must 
 grant that one misses books. That is a really 
 serious deprivation. But even so one can have 
 a certain number of books sent out to one, and 
 one can get books from the diocesan library at 
 Likoma, though seldom of the latest. For the 
 rest I found isolation almost as much a bugbear 
 as fever. I don't know if I unconsciously 
 regarded natives as things, as machines. To my 
 astonishment I found them human, I found 
 myself in a new world, a real live place full of 
 human interests. Mponda's village has about 
 the same population as my own little town in 
 Derbyshire, and it is just as full of all manner 
 of interests, indeed in some ways fuller, for 
 one comes on so much that is new and un- 
 expected. As soon as one gets a little over the 
 language difficulty there need be no fear of 
 isolation. Could anything at home equal such 
 a drama as this, at any rate in pre-war days ? 
 I once sat under a tree by the lake-side and 
 listened to the story of a raid which had taken 
 place while I was away on leave. The narrator 
 was one of the warriors who had taken part 
 in the defence. As he sat he pointed tc, the
 
 THE MISSIONARY 91 
 
 places of interest in the story. It was like a 
 passage of Homer, except that it was full of 
 close personal interest, not a long-told tale. 
 The teller's voice vibrated with emotion at 
 each crisis of the story. He began in anxious 
 tones to describe the searchings of heart in 
 his own village when they heard shots and 
 saw the flames in the next village, a kindred 
 village of their own. His tone became firmer 
 as they resolved on pursuit. It rang in triumph 
 as he told of the victorious fight. It fell again 
 almost into a minor key as he told of the dead, 
 and especially of a poor woman speared by her 
 brutal captor when he found that there was no 
 escape. It is true that one does not often 
 come upon exciting incidents ' like this, but 
 nor does one meet them in England, or did 
 not in pre-war days. No, there is far too much 
 human interest in an African village. One need 
 not be isolated. Also, while entering into this 
 new world, one does not really lose touch with 
 the old. One gets newspapers, albeit six or 
 seven weeks late at least. But there is no 
 vital necessity that a man must lose interest 
 in affairs if he does not get the news next 
 morning. Were English people bored with the 
 news of Waterloo because it did not come for 
 a fortnight after the battle ? I think that I 
 take as much interest in politics, home or 
 foreign, as ever I did, except that 'from this
 
 92 A MISSIONARY'S LIFE IN NYASALAND 
 
 distance home politics often look rather petty, 
 but that may be really a juster view. I read 
 of religious and social questions as eagerly as 
 ever I did. Nay, even at my age, I still rejoice 
 when Oxford wins a boat race or when St. 
 John's goes up a place on the river. When on 
 leave last year I watched Oxford's interesting 
 victory at Lords with much the same feelings 
 as I watched a 'varsity match twenty years 
 ago. I am sure no one need fear becoming an 
 isolated fossil out here. If he does become one 
 he is the sort of man who would have become 
 a fossil in London or Paris. 
 
 When a man comes to Africa he must expect 
 to meet with difficulties. In the first place 
 there is the language. Neither Chi-Nyanja nor 
 Yao are hard as languages go, I think, but 
 they must be learnt. Moreover, the European 
 will never have done learning. Behind the 
 language there is a still greater difficulty, and 
 that is to get at the point of view of the native. 
 The background of his life is so different from 
 ours. All his customs and ways of looking at 
 life are new to us. However, half the danger 
 is gone if a man is sensible and knows when he 
 doesn't know. Nor when one makes a mistake 
 must one lose heart, for one meets difficulties 
 everywhere. If we were to lose heart there is 
 no one else out here to take our place. Also, 
 every year will bring fuller knowledge and fuller
 
 THE MISSIONARY 93 
 
 usefulness to the man who humbly tries to do 
 his best. 
 
 Every man must decide for himself in the 
 last resort as to what he believes to be God's 
 will, but I am sure that if in the end he finds 
 that his lot is cast in Africa he will find it a 
 fair place. All he can do, with his head or his 
 hand, all he has ever learnt, will come in useful 
 here. Here, too, he will find the battle well- 
 defined, and will see his duty plain before him 
 as one seldom can among the puzzling questions 
 at home. He will find it a good country to 
 live in. I will go further, for I know something 
 of death in Africa. If it be good for a man 
 that death should find him following God's 
 calling with a stout heart, then I say that 
 Africa is also a good country to die in. 
 
 Printed in Great B itain by Butler & Taaner, Frome and London
 
 KotaKota 
 
 goo 
 Msumba 
 MtenguU 
 
 NYASA
 
 . The . 
 
 Universities' Mission to 
 Central Africa. 
 
 Proposed by Livingstone, 1 857. C. F. Mackenzie, First Bishop, 
 January, 1, 1861. 
 
 President THE RIGHT REV. BISHOP GORE. 
 
 Head Office: 9 DARTMOUTH STREET, 
 WESTMINSTER, S.W.L 
 
 SPHERE. 
 
 Between the Equator in the North and the River Zambesi 
 in the South. 
 
 DIOCESES. 
 
 Zanzibar, Nyasaland and Northern Rhodesia. 
 
 OBJECTS. 
 
 To free Africans from heathenism and Mohammedanism, 
 to build up an African Church, to maintain schools and 
 training colleges, teach handicrafts and nurse the sick. 
 
 NEEDS. 
 
 (a) More priests and lay workers to fill vacancies and for 
 the extension of the work. 
 
 (b) A largely increased income to meet increased charges 
 and the loss on exchange. 
 
 MAGAZINES. 
 
 "Central Africa" (2J.). "African Tidings" (Id.). 
 Monthly. 
 
 SECRETARY 
 
 ' Rev. CANON TRAVERS, U.M.C.A., 9 Dartmouth Street, 
 Westminster, S.W.I. 
 
 Catalogue of publications sent free on request. 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF C AUFORIOA 
 U)S ANGELF*
 
 , 
 
 ^^-i I" 
 
 tn. UV^ 
 
 n ^.x V -)-K 
 
 . 
 
 ,. cUvU ^ U -' 
 
 i 
 
 I' <-'-
 
 
 888